2. Prescription For Love

“My father is a remarkable physician, and a good father. I love him, but like most doctors in his situation, he wasn’t around a lot when we were growing up. When we were hurt, when we were scared, when Kate

” Flann blew out a breath. “Well, anyhow, my mother is the rock our family rests on.”

“Kate?” Abby couldn’t remember anyone mentioning Kate.

“Our sister between Carson and Margie. She died of leukemia when she was eleven.”

“Oh God, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.”

“No reason you should have. My father was there, as much as he could be, but it was my mother who was always there, for everyone, all the time. More than anyone.” Flann grimaced. “More than me, for sure. I

I didn’t handle Kate being sick very well.”

“You couldn’t have been very old yourself.”

“Old enough to be a hell of a lot stronger than I was.” Flann’s voice was tinged with bitterness and self-reproach. “Harper was the strong one. No surprise there. I decided to rebel instead. I was pretty much a jerk, really.”

Abby grasped Flann’s hand and squeezed. “That must have been a terrible time for everyone. And not everyone handles that kind of loss the same, especially not at first.”

“Yeah, well, my mother and Harper did just fine,” Flann said softly. “You’ll like my mother.

You’re like her.”

“I am?” Abby caught her breath. “Why?”

Flann drew their clasped hands onto her thigh, gripping her fingers tightly. Her dark eyes held no levity, only solemn sincerity. “She’s strong, fierce, protective of us. She’s never let any of us down, ever.”

“Thank you,” Abby said softly. “I’m not at all sure I’m that strong, but I’m honored that you think so.”

“I know so.”

The front door opened and a woman looking like a regal version of Harper walked out. She called down to them, “Are you planning to bring her in for breakfast, Flannery, or let her starve out here?”

Flann grinned and pushed open the car door just as Carrie pulled in behind them. “We’re coming,

Mama.”

Abby followed her out, for once as happy as Flann to pretend all that mattered was medicine and an occasional good time. She already liked the serious side of Flann a little too much for comfort, or safety.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Abby climbed the steps to meet Flannery’s mother, more nervous than she had any reason to be. She rarely worried about the impression she made, but this meeting had an air of importance others didn’t. She remembered the way Flann spoke of her mother, with deep affection and a little awe. This woman was Flann’s hero. Abby held out her hand. “It’s good to meet you.”

“I’m sorry it took a night like last night to get us in the same house.” Ida squeezed Abby’s hand in both of hers. “My apologies, Dr. Remy, for not having you out to dinner when you arrived.”

“Oh no, please. Call me Abby, and apologies are not—”

“Nonsense. My daughter knows better. Now go into the kitchen, you two.” Ida slid an arm around Abby’s waist and gently but firmly led her forward.

Helplessly, Abby glanced over her shoulder at Flann, who merely grinned, shrugged, and fell into line.

The kitchen looked completely different than the last time Abby’d seen it. The table had been righted and put back into its original position, the rain-streaked floor scrubbed, the counters wiped down, and the windows cleaned. The one over the sink was cracked, she noted, and the back door stood open to the morning without benefit of the screen door, which was propped against the railing.

“You’ve done a lot of work in here. What else can I help you with?”

“Not a thing,” Ida said. “Blake and Margie pitched in. You can help me best by sitting right there at the table and drinking the coffee I just made.”

“Where is my son? Not in the barn, I hope.” The box of chicks still sat in the corner with the new addition of two lamps shining into it. “I know they were worried about the kittens.”

“I told them the barn was off-limits until Flannery and Harper got a good look at it in daylight. I sent the two of them off to shower. They both looked as if they’d crawled out of a mud pit.” “Uh

” Abby said.

“Separate bathrooms,” Ida said without turning around. She set a flame under a cast-iron pan and laid strips of bacon into it. “What’s wrong with your leg, Flannery O’Connor?”

“Just a scratch, Mama.”

“Then why are you limping?”

Ida hadn’t raised her voice or even glanced at Flann, but Flann actually squirmed in her chair. Abby watched, fascinated, and shook her head when Flann sent her an imploring look.

“A little stiff, that’s all. It’s fine.”

“Mm-hmm.” Ida cracked brown-shelled eggs into a big ceramic bowl. “How are things at the hospital?”

“Under control, Mama.” Obviously relieved at the change in subject, Flann poured coffee for Abby, set a small pitcher of cream next to her cup, and sat next to her. “Abby’s got the ER humming like a watch.”

“Nothing too serious last night, I hope.”