To Tuscany with Love by Gail Mencini Read Free Book Online

on around. Stillman stared at that watch so hard he thought his eyes would bug out. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the doctor’s face.
    The doctor cleared his throat, a raspy noise that sounded as if he needed a glass of water. Stillman watched another minute go by on the watch. Click-click-click.
    “Your mama, Stillman, she’s resting in heaven now.”
    Stillman nodded. His eyes burned as if he’d gotten soap in them. He could feel the tears and tried to blink them away. They kept coming, and he had to use the back of his wrist to clear them off his face.
    The doctor put his arm across the back of Stillman’s shoulders. The door to the house squeaked open and closed with a thud.
    “Son,” his daddy said, sounding perturbed, “what are you doing settin’ here when there is chores that need doing?”
    Stillman put his hands on the step to push himself up. He felt the doctor’s arm heavy on his shoulders, pushing him down. The doctor’s hand squeezed Stillman’s shoulder. It felt right, somehow, sitting on the step next to him.
    “The chores can wait. You don’t have cows that need milking or animals to be fed. His chores can probably even wait until morning, if need be.”
    “I said now.”
    Stillman tried to push up, but the doctor wouldn’t let him. He felt the big hand pat his shoulder, and then the doctor stood up and turned to face his daddy.
    “I think the boy should come with me tonight,” the doctor said. “I’ll drive him out first thing in the morning. He can do his chores then.” He stepped closer to Stillman’s daddy and lowered his voice, but Stillman could still hear what he said. “That’ll give you a chance to take care of things in the house. You can call the undertaker after we leave. He’s only a child.”
    Stillman was afraid to turn around and look at the two men. He heard his daddy suck in air like Mama’s vacuum and then snort it out.
    “He should be here,” his daddy said. “With me.” The voice wasn’t his Sunday preaching voice, or even his discipline voice that meant the strap. No, this was like the rattlesnake Stillman startled last summer when he crossed the ditch; it had hissed and reared its head up, its tongue flicking in and out.
    “John,” the doctor said, his voice low, but serious, “I’m taking him, and you’re not stopping me. I did you and his mother a favor years ago, so I figure you owe me one or two favors back. You can count this as one.” The doctor’s big shoes stepped across the porch and he knelt beside Stillman. “Come on, son, you’re coming with me.”
    The shakes came over Stillman, as if the weather had turned freezing cold, only it hadn’t.
    “Go on now.” His daddy spit out the words.
    Stillman stood up; afraid his daddy would change his mind, he tumbled down the porch steps and ran to the pickup.
    Later, after a bath in the doctor’s tub—and it wasn’t even Saturday—Stillman stood in the little room that the doctor used as an office, right next to his examination room. Books lined half of one wall. He’d never seen so many books outside of the library. They had worn leather bindings; the doctor must read them often.
    He reached out to touch one. His fingers traced the gold letters on the spine: Anatomy and Physiology . There were two books with that same name, one right next to the other—a worn one and a new one, with a spine that had hardly any creases in it.
    Stillman jumped back from the books when he heard the floor creak behind him. He bowed his head and waited for his punishment.
    But none came. “Which book interests you most?”
    “I don’t know, sir.”
    “Sure you do. Please call me Dr. D.” He chuckled. “Delacroix is a mouthful.” He rested his hand on Stillman’s shoulder. “Was it the Anatomy and Physiology ?”
    Stillman nodded. Then his words jumped right out of his mouth, although he hadn’t intended to speak. “How come you have two? Is one better than the other?”
    Dr. D reached up