In Good Hands by Kathy Lyons Read Free Book Online Page B

of outright deception, but she damn well wasn’t telling the whole story. No one upended their lives like that without something major happening.
    â€œSo you came to Chicago to do what? Let me guess, was there a guy involved?”
    â€œDefinitely no guy—I’d broken up with my last boyfriend at least a year earlier. And frankly, I’ve always been too focused on medicine for relationships. No, I came out here to visit Mary.”
    When he frowned, not placing the name, she filled in the clues for him.
    â€œShe’s your plant lady. The one with rheumatoid arthritis. Those muffins are for her,” she said, pointing to the box on the floor.
    â€œAh. Right. Sorry.” He remembered, he just couldn’t put a face to the name.
    â€œAnyway, she was one of my first patients a long time ago. So when I hopped into my car and started driving, I ended up on her doorstep. And then I stayed.”
    â€œDoing what?”
    â€œBesides filling in for her?”
    She waited a moment, studying his face for something. In the end, he just raised his hands in surrender. “What am I missing?”
    â€œI’m the fill-in plant lady. You saw me this afternoon after your lunch appointment.” As he continued to stare, her lips curled up in a smile. “I knew you didn’t recognize me. Picture me like this…” She lifted her hair into a ponytail. “Now add a shapeless sundress and hemp sandals.”
    It took him a moment, but he got there. And he felt his eyes widen in shock. “Oh, my God! That’s you? The baggyplant lady I see sometimes? The one who could be pretty if she just made an effort?” He bit his tongue, then gestured to her clothing. “But then I guess you already know that you’re gorgeous when you make the effort.”
    She waved off the compliment with a too-casual gesture. “I happen to think I’m beautiful even when I don’t make the effort. Beauty comes from within.”
    Roger shook his head. “In your case, beauty comes from inside and outside.”
    She took the compliment gracefully with a regal nod of her head, but something still didn’t sit right. He leaned forward.
    â€œSo you’ve given up medicine all together? Just to water plants?”
    She shook her head. “No, no. Like I said, I do research. And before you ask, it’s not the kind of research you’re thinking of. No laboratory funded by a pharmaceutical grant. No Ph.Ds and definitely no Bunsen burner in sight.”
    He nodded like he understood her. Which he didn’t. “So what kind of research?”
    â€œNew age.”
    It took him a moment to process her words. And even then it was another moment beyond that. Meanwhile, she was cringing. Not obviously. Just a little, as if she expected him to start mocking her. He didn’t. During his mother’s last year, she’d explored crystals and aromatherapy and more. He never saw that it made any difference except to her. It gave her something to focus on before her death, something to explore. In many ways, he believed it gave his mother some peace before the end. In fact, when she’d finally died, he’d thought she was just meditating there for a moment.
    â€œSo you’re researching the effects of what? Crystals? Acupressure? Qigong?”
    She straightened, obviously surprised that he hadn’t startedlaughing. “I tried those. They haven’t produced the results I’m looking for. So I’m looking at other modalities now.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    â€œEnergy healing. No needles. No herbs or crystals. Just—”
    â€œPrayer.”
    She shrugged. “Some people call it that.” She tilted her head. “You sound like you know something about it.”
    â€œMy mother spent the last year of her life on alternative healing. I got the tour along with her.”
    â€œAnd?” she pressed. “You don’t seem to be