From the Heart

would ever forgive her for her method of ending it. Kasey rose from the bed. She still had a plane to catch.
    When she saw the note on the dresser, she stared at it. It might be better not to read it, to pretend she hadn’t seen it. What could he say to her now that wouldn’t bring the pain flooding back? But she reached for it before she could stop herself. She opened it and read:
Kasey,
    An apology for last night would mean little, but I have nothing else to offer. Anger is no excuse for what happened. I can only tell you I regret it more than anything I’ve ever done.
    I’m leaving you a check for your services of the last month. I hope you realize what you’ve given me, because I don’t have the words to tell you.
    Jordan
    Kasey read the letter through once, then again. She’d been right to think it would bring pain. She crumpled it in her hand, then dropped it on the floor. Regret it, she thought and slowly picked up the check that had been laid beneath the note. She was cold now. She had little emotion left to spend. Briskly she scanned the amount and gave a quick laugh.
    “Generous, Jordan. You’re a generous man.” She tore the check methodically into tiny pieces and let them drift to the floor. “That ought to drive your accountant crazy.” She wasn’t going to cry again. There weren’t any tears left. With a shuddering sigh, Kasey reached for a cigarette.
    “Montana,” she decided all at once. “Montana will have six feet of snow and be cold as hell.” Now wasn’t the time to go home, she thought. It would be too easy to fall apart at home. Dashing to the phone, Kasey prepared to change her plans.
     
    Dr. Edward Brennan switched off the ignition on his old Pontiac. The sun was beginning to set, and he’d put in a full day. His back let him know it. Getting old, he mused as he sat. There’d been a day when he could have delivered three babies, plucked out a pair of tonsils, set a broken tibia and inoculated three families against flu before lunch without slackening speed. But he was seventy and thinking it was time to slow down.
    Maybe it was time to take on an associate, someone young with fresh ideas. Dr. Brennan liked fresh ideas. He smiled a moment and watched the sunset. Too bad Kasey hadn’t taken to medicine. She’d have made a hell of a doctor. What a bedside manner she would have had.
    There were orange streaks shooting through the trees on his mountain. He was very proprietary about his little section ofland. His mountain, his sunset. He felt that way when he sat alone. It was a good feeling and kept him going.
    Opening the car door, he lifted out the bundle of homemade bread and preserves that Mrs. Oates had pressed on him when he had treated her boy for chicken pox. He would enjoy his fee with a cup of coffee. After, he thought as he stretched his tired back, he might just have a glass of the illegal whiskey Mr. Oates had slipped him before he had left. Oates had the best still on the east side of the mountain.
    The door to his house was never locked, and he pushed it open, already tasting the bread.
    “Hello, Pop.”
    Dr. Brennan jolted, then stared at the woman seated behind his kitchen table. “Kasey!” He was stunned to find her and surprised that she hadn’t jumped up to rush to him for a fierce hug and noisy kiss. It was her traditional way of greeting him, whether they had been parted for a day or a year. “I thought you were still in Tennessee.”
    “Nope, I’m right here.” She smiled at him, then glanced at the bundle he carried. “Smells like fresh bread. Part of your fee?”
    “Mrs. Oates,” he answered, crossing the room to set the bundle on the table.
    “Ah.” Kasey grinned up at him. “Then you’ll have something a little more lively from Mr. Oates, I imagine. How’s your stomach lining?”
    “Sturdy enough for a glass or two.”
    She laid a hand on his. “How are you, Pop?”
    “Fine, Kasey.” He was studying her face carefully with a mixture of affection and professionalism. Something was not quite right. He squeezed her hand in return. She’d tell him when she was ready, in her own way. He’d known her too long to expect anything else. “What about you? What have you been up to? I haven’t had one of your six-page letters in nearly a month.”
    “Not too much.” She gave a half shrug. “I spent a couple of weeks in Montana. I got a terrific coat there; it would keep you warm in the Aleutians. I joined the Phiefer team for a