Page 84 of Booked for Kidnapping

He laughed. “It’s true. Ask the wife. You can ask Bradley. He’s been checking in on me when you haven’t been looking because he’s almost as much of a worry wart as you are. If he thought it would be a problem, he would have told you.”

I turned my attention to Bradley. “Well?”

“It’s true. If I thought he was at immediate risk of a catastrophic heart attack, I certainly wouldn’t have dragged him onto a plane and made that risk worse. I appreciate how worried you are, though. It’s gratifying.”

Spluttering, I followed Dr. Castor into the sitting room, which reminded me of a tea parlor on some British historical drama. “The outside says Spanish, the inside disagrees with the outside.”

The woman chuckled. “I opted to theme rooms in this home, with something from every country in Europe I’ve lived in. The kitchen is Spanish, representing my home. The living room is Dutch, because I find their culture to be warm and inviting. I picked British for this room to be more formal, although I’ll admit I’ve gone on the cheap in this one.” She pointed at the couch and its pair of matching armchairs. “The whole set, less than five hundred dollars at a discount furniture store, but it positively screams British from a long-gone era, doesn’t it?”

I put some serious thought into worshipping the ground the doctor walked on. “That’s just so sensible.”

“Well, I know how to get my fiancée’s approval; I will be sensible when shopping for furniture.” Bradley pointed at the couch. “Sit, Dad, before Janette decides she’s the one having the heart attack.”

Bradley’s father obeyed, and he grumbled something under his breath. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is,” both Dr. Castor and I stated.

“Dad, I present to you evidence we should talk Janette into evening medical courses so she can continue her volunteer work.”

“Yes, that is definitely going to be used against her when she inevitably complains about the costs of medical schooling and that she doesn’t need additional courses to resume her work in the emergency room.”

I scowled, and I sat on the couch beside Bradley’s father. “I apologize for them, Dr. Castor. They have almost as many issues as I do. That’s why we’re going to be seeing therapists.”

“Therapists are quite useful. I will return shortly with everything you need. I won’t be long.”

Once Dr. Castor left, I bowed my head. “How utterly embarrassing.”

Bradley came over to me, leaned over, and placed his finger under my chin and lifted my head, kissing my forehead. “It’s only expected for you to have some issues, and having anxiety because you’re worried about my father is hardly embarrassing. I found it a little concerning, but then I remembered you’re the kind to need to address things like this immediately, and you couldn’t. And you probably remembered that you’d promised to look at it before you were kidnapped. That’s not your fault. And before you were kidnapped, you weren’t really able to do the work, either. I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll try to do better.”

“You don’t need to try to do better, Janette. You haven’t done anything wrong. And you didn’t pull over and start working right away. You drove all the way here. You just cursed a lot. I might have had an issue if you’d tried to find a place to pull off on that road. But, we came here for this purpose, so, take deep breaths and get ready to work.” Bradley leaned close and whispered in my ear, “I have plans for after we get home following your successful treatment of my father.”

“Don’t you threaten me with a good time, Bradley Hampton.”

He grinned. “That is not a threat. It’s a promise.”

NINETEEN

Who is a good kitty? Ajani is! Ajani is the best kitty.

Within five minutes of Dr. Castor bringing her medical kit, which she stored in a duffle bag meant to be tossed in a trunk if needed, I went to work on my future father-in-law. I ruined his bet, muttering curses within ten minutes. From head to toe, he’d hoarded cholesterol like it might vanish from the face of the earth. I loathed atherosclerosis, and I suspected I’d have to clear out his arteries every year to make sure he didn’t run a risk of clots or heart attack in the future. To complicate matters, the plaque resulting from the atherosclerosis resisted the idea of being removed. Bit by bit, I peeled it away from the artery walls, leaving behind irritation that would heal within a few days.

I would need to monitor him to ensure no clots formed, but the work would take ten minutes every few hours until the risk subsided.

As promised, between my streams of profanities, I gave Dr. Castor a step-by-step explanation of what I did, how I did it, and went on a tirade over how older patients could live longer, healthier lives if only the assholes of society had made use of exsanguinators rather than shun them.

The procedure took ten hours, excluding the hour-long break for me to devour a steak and rice dish loaded up with cry-worthy hot peppers. I hadn’t even noticed Dr. Castor stealing Bradley away to teach him kitchen sorcery, nor had I noticed the arrival of Mrs. Hampton, both of my parents, Meridian, Ren, Beatrice, and my cat.

I’d pay for that later, although I appreciated how my fluffy goddess had taken over my lap and purred for me. I pet her, and she landed a single light nip before nuzzling my hand, which ensured I wouldn’t scold her for issuing a gentle punishment with her teeth. “Who is a good kitty? Ajani is! Ajani is the best kitty.”

Bradley laughed from his place on the nearest armchair. “She’s been there for three hours, and beyond you taking one brief break to give her precisely two strokes, you’ve been occupied elsewhere.”

“I’ll pick my switch when we get home,” I promised upon realizing I’d made everyone wait during my rather meticulous removal of unwanted deposits. “Hi. I’m sorry I was busy and couldn’t come to the door. Or pay you any attention at all.”

My mother smiled, laughed, and came over to kiss my cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for, little girl. However, I don’t know where you learned that language, but I should wash that filth out of your mouth!”

Oops. “Television?” I suggested, although in reality, I’d picked up the language from some of our homeless patrons. It’d taken some time for the worst offenders to learn how to talk in a way that might get them through job interviews, but we all took turns helping them prepare and maximize their chances of getting work.