The Magic In Your Touch

Chapter 13

Nate looked down at the file in his hand. It was his and Amy’s first day back at work in over a week, and the place was swamped.

In a way, he was grateful. As long as Amy was occupied with patients, she wouldn’t have time to hover over him. Between Gale’s calls and visits and Amy’s fussing, Nate was being mothered to death.

When she and Mike got down to Atlanta and found his aunt not only healthy and whole but off visiting relatives in Savannah, Amy immediately connected the phony call to Nate’s attack.

She and Mike spent the whole night at the airport trying to catch the next flight back to Chicago. She went first to Nate’s apartment, freaking out when she saw the swarm of deputies gathering evidence from the ransacked townhouse.

After going to the office and finding much the same thing, she was ready to file a missing person’s report on him. Thankfully, Cindy tracked her down and told her he was with Brandon.

He was always with Brandon. If he wasn’t with him, he was with a deputy. During the last week, Brandon had accompanied Nate everywhere, including going on the many shopping trips needed to replace his ruined wardrobe and personal belongings.

He’d received no more threats since the night of the attack, but Bran was taking no chances. He’d protested Nate’s going back to work, but had finally given in after making Nate promise not to leave the office by himself and not to be caught anywhere alone. This morning, he’d even had one of his men follow Nate to work.

Even though no incriminating evidence was found (the blood on his clothes turned out to be pig’s blood), news of Nate’s near miss had produced one startling side effect: everyone in town knew he was gay. That meant he was fair game for every gay man in town.

Even the straight women, those who had a gay friend or relative, flocked to the re-opened office to put in their bids. So far this morning, Nate had received three offers for dinner and four phone numbers. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet.

Nathan knocked on the door and entered the exam room without checking the name on the chart. He found a little old lady sitting on the exam table, her short legs dangling over the side.

She was wearing a turquoise blouse and an orange skirt. Though Nate was sure he’d never seen her before, there was something familiar about her.

He crossed the room and shook her hand. “Hi. I’m Dr. Morris. So what seems to be the problem, Mrs.,” he glanced down at the chart, “Taylor?” Uh-oh.

Now he knew why she looked so familiar. He’d spent every night of the last week dreaming about eyes the exact same color as those.

She smiled. It should have been a comforting sight coming from a sweet little old lady like her, but for some reason Nate felt like he was about to be questioned by the Spanish Inquisition.

“Actually, Doctor, I think I may have a touch of gout. Runs in my family, you know. Speaking of family, tell me about yours.”

Nate said, “Why don’t we get you checked out first? We can talk about my family later.”

“Of course, dear.” She was silent while Nate examined one of her stocking-clad legs. After a minute she said, “I hope it’s nothing serious. I have to be well enough to keep up with those great-grandchildren of mine. Speaking of grandchildren, I believe you know my grandson.”

Nate almost laughed but caught himself. “Really? Who’s your grandson?”

“Brandon Nash. He’s the sheriff here in Reed. A fine boy, if I do say so. He’s a homosexual, you know.”

Nate was bent over checking her reflexes when she said the last part. The matter-of-fact way she said it caused him to drop the reflex hammer on his toe.

“Are you alright, Doctor.”

“Yes, ma’am. Just a little clumsy today, is all. Mrs. Taylor—”

“Please, call me Abigail.”

“Alright, Abigail. I can’t find any signs of gout. Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Some. Perhaps you should check me over one more time.”

Nate dutifully did as he was told, praying he would find something so he could write her a prescription and send her home. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“So, doctor, I hear you’re a homosexual, too.”

Nate stood up so fast his stethoscope slid from around his neck to the floor with a metallic thud.

“You certainly do have a case of the dropsy’s today, Dr. Morris. Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Such a polite boy, too. Although. . .you never did answer my question.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to get around answering, Nate picked up his stethoscope and said, “Yes, ma’am, I am a homosexual, and I do know Brandon. In fact, I’m staying with him for a few days until the person who vandalized my apartment and office is caught.”

Abigail nodded her head sympathetically. “I heard all about that dreadful business. Imagine targeting someone just because they like men instead of women. What is this world coming to?” She watched as Nate made a notation on her chart. “Doctor?”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I wonder if I might ask you a personal question.”

Nate couldn’t imagine anything any more personal than she’d already asked, but he found himself saying yes, anyway.

“Well, I heard that anal s*x is very popular lately, even among heterosexuals. I thought maybe you could tell me whether or not you enjoy it. My husband and I might like to try it sometime.”

Nate pressed down so hard on the chart he was writing on, the plastic casing of his ball-point pen snapped right in half. Before he could answer her, the door swung open. A furious Brandon stood on the other side.

“Grandma, please tell me you aren’t giving Nate a hard time.”

“Why Brandon, what on earth are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to ask Nate to have lunch with me. Imagine my surprise when I saw your car out front.”

Abigail had the good graces to blush. “I came to have Dr. Morris look at my gout. Runs in the family, you know.”

“Nobody in our family has ever had a case of the gout, you included.”

“There’s a first time for everything. Dr. Morris has been taking excellent care of me. He’s a homosexual just like you are, dear.”

Nate had to hide his grin when he saw Brandon’s jaw start to twitch. “So I’ve heard.”

“Yes. In fact, Dr. Morris was just about to tell me whether or not he likes anal s*x. Grandpa and I are thinking of branching out, so to speak.”

“What?”

“Anal s*x, dear. It’s just like regular s*x except—”

Brandon was across the room in an instant. He gently but firmly lifted Abigail off the table. “Come on, Grandma. I’ll walk you out to your car.”

“Oh, but what about my gout?”

Nate couldn’t help but love the nosy little darling. He kissed her on the cheek just as Brandon was dragging her out of the room. “I think you’re going to be fine, but I’ll call you in an anti-inflammatory and have the pharmacy deliver it just to be on the safe side.”

“Thank you, Dr. Morris.”

“Please call me Nathan or Nate.”

“I’ve never called a doctor by his first name before. Are you sure it’s proper?”

“Actually, it’s one of my rules.”

“Really?”

“Yes, ma’am. I make it a practice never to discuss anal s*x with anyone unless I’m on a first name basis with them.”

Brandon wasted no time hustling her out the door. While he was gone, Nate called the pharmacy and arranged to have Abigail’s prescription sent over. He finished just as Brandon came back in.

Nate motioned him into his office. He sat down behind his desk while Brandon took one of the wingback chairs on the other side.

“On behalf of my entire family, I apologize.”

Nate laughed. “Not necessary. She’s a real cutie. Feisty, but cute. She reminds me a lot of my own grandmother. I imagine she’s heard all about our living arrangements and was curious to know what kind of man her grandson had installed in his house. So, what’s this I hear about lunch?”

“Yeah, about that. . . There’s something you should know.”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out of the best offer I’ve had all day?”

Brandon smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, I’m definitely taking you to lunch, but we have to stop off somewhere first.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Nate, somebody called your landlord this morning claiming to be with the Atlanta P.D. The caller identified himself as Detective Wade. He claimed your grandmother passed away, and he needed to locate you so arrangements could be made. Since your grandmother passed away ten years ago, I think it’s safe to say it’s the same guy who trashed your apartment. Atlanta P.D. has no record of a Detective Wade, and neither do the surrounding counties.”

“Did the apartment manager tell him anything?”

“No. One of our deputies briefed him about giving out information on you. The manager was able to record the call on his answering machine, but I’m afraid the recording isn’t very clear. Before we go to lunch, I’d like for you to go by and listen to it anyway, just in case.”

“Whatever you think is best, Bran.”

Nate stood up and grabbed his jacket. As they were leaving the office, Brandon said, “Before I forget, Grandma wants us to come to dinner two weeks from Sunday after church. The whole family is going to be there.”

“Are they all like her?”

“No. Most of them are worse.”