Family Practice (6 page)

“Weird,” Becca muttered. “Who names chickens?”

“My mother, I guess. She’s a little odd that way.”

“How can you name something you’re going to eat?”

“She says it’s a sign of respect and affection to a noble breed of bird,” Callie said with a grin. Her dad snorted but didn’t raise his eyes from his plate.

“It’s creepy,” Becca said and put her fork down with a clatter. “But I suppose I might be interested in how she does that spinning thing.” She didn’t sound overly excited by the prospect of a trip to the farm, but Callie took even her lukewarm interest as a hopeful sign.

“We’ll plan a trip as soon as I can work it into my schedule.”

Becca shrugged. “Okay, but I said maybe, remember. I’m finished eating, Mom. Can I leave the table?”

“
May
I leave the table,” Brandon said in a superior tone. “
Can I leave the table
is bad English, right, Mom?”

“
May
I leave the table,” Becca shot back with a look that boded ill for her twin when they were alone.

“Don’t you want dessert?” Ginger asked.

“No. I’m stuffed.” Becca folded her thin arms across her chest. “I don’t want anything sweet. I’ll get an apple or a banana later. Fruit is better for you than a bunch of stuff made with refined sugar.”

“Mac’s desserts are very good.”

“We’d all be better off with the fruit,” she said stubbornly. “You’re a doctor, Callie. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“I approve of eating fruit,” Callie said diplomatically. “But I love Mac’s desserts. As long as you don’t have them at every meal—”

The art of diplomacy was wasted on Becca. “I still just want an apple.”

Ginger broke the awkward little silence. “Then, yes, you may leave the table.”

Becca left the kitchen without another word.

“Sorry, I apologize for my daughter’s bad manners,” Ginger said, color staining her cheeks.

“She’s practicing to be a teenager a couple of years earlier than normal,” J.R. said with a rueful shake of his head.

“It’s nothing,” Callie said.

“What is for dessert?” Brandon asked above the clatter of a tray full of dirty dishes being loaded into the dishwasher behind them.

“Whatever’s on the menu. You know that.” Ginger began fanning herself with her hand. “It’s so warm in here.”

“Why don’t I commandeer us a table on the porch?” J.R. suggested, taking Ginger’s barely touched plate and stacking it on his own. “We can have orange sherbet and chocolate cookies out there. Mac baked a batch today when I told her Callie was coming for supper. It was always Callie’s favorite dessert when she was the twins’ age.”

“It’s still pretty high on my list.”

Callie was tired and would have preferred to go back to the cottage to be alone for a while, but this was more or less her official welcome-home dinner, so she had to do her best to make it as much of a real family occasion as she could. In the old days, she and J.R. would have taken their cookies up to the cupola room at the top of the building and eaten them while they “spied” on the tourists and townspeople unsuspectingly going about their business on the street below. Now that wasn’t an option. The cupola room had been off-limits since a big storm a few years earlier had damaged the floor. And anyway, it wasn’t just her and her dad anymore. The realization was bittersweet.

“Great, sherbet and cookies all around, then. I’ll ask Mac—”

“I heard!” the older woman hollered from her station behind the grill, where a trio of steaks sizzled and flared. “Orange sherbets and chocolate cookies coming up,” she said, never taking her eyes off the steaks as she moved them off the heat for a short rest before plating.

“Thanks, Mac.” Callie whisked across the kitchen and planted a kiss on her old friend’s cheek. “It’s good to be home.”

Mac brushed off the sentiment with a wave of her spatula. “It’s good to have you home, too, Callie. Really good. The town needs you and so does your dad.” She moved away and began berating the hapless college student who was serving as her sous-chef before Callie could ask her what she meant by that last part of her statement.

“C’mon, Callie,” her dad said, sticking his head around the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the rear of the dining room. “Brandon says there’s a two-top open on the porch. It’ll be a squeeze but we’d better snag it while we can.”

“Coming.” Callie called goodbye to Mac and headed toward the door. She wished they had had a chance to talk before this, but no opportunity had presented itself. Soon, though, she would get her friend’s insights on how things were going between J.R. and Ginger.

“I’ll grab an extra chair,” J.R. said, “and when we’re settled you can fill us in on how you’re getting clinic schedules worked out with Zach.”

* * *

T
HE
SUN
WAS
GONE
,
the long midsummer twilight fading into night along the eastern shore of the lake. Zach heard the call of the little pond frogs start up along the marshy strip of shoreline just outside the business district. Music spilled out of the open doors of the White Pine, filtered by some quirk of atmospherics over the rooftops of the motel and cottages on the water’s edge out to where he was fishing. A country song, all guitars and bass. He couldn’t make out the words; it was more sensation than sound, anyway, far less of a disturbance than the trio of Jet Skis returning to the marina dock a quarter mile away.

He shut the lid on his tackle box, secured the hook on his pole, laid it across the seats and unshipped the oars. The bluegills had quit biting and the mosquitoes had started up. Time to call it a night, Zach decided as he freed the anchor of weeds and started rowing toward the dock. He’d been fishing the secret hole J.R. had told him about in the spring. Formed by an underground spring bubbling up from the sandy bottom of the lake, it attracted bluegills and pumpkinseeds of truly awesome size, but he hadn’t kept any fish this time. Too late to start cleaning them tonight.

He could have used the motor on his boat, too, but the exertion and the pull of the oars through the dark water felt good. He hadn’t been getting enough exercise lately. Maybe that was why he wasn’t sleeping as well as he usually did. If he was smart he’d row the full length of the lake, work out the kinks and make himself good and tired, but he didn’t have lights on the little boat, so that option wasn’t going to work tonight.

Instead, he figured he’d better get himself home to the cottage and into the shower before Callie returned from dinner with her family. He knew that was where she was because Brandon had tracked him down a couple of hours earlier with a message from Mac. The cook had been running short of bluegill fillets and had been willing to pay fifteen bucks a pound if he had any in the freezer of his refrigerator. He did have a couple of bags and he’d told Brandon he’d trade them for a steak dinner or a couple of burgers some night when he didn’t feel like being by himself. Or when the duplex walls seemed to be closing in on him.

That seemed to be happening more often lately, and it wasn’t because of the PTSD. It was because of Callie. He’d thought the soundproofing was pretty good. The two or three short-term renters earlier in the summer hadn’t disturbed his rest, or his peace of mind. But the new resident sure did. He swore he could even smell her shampoo through the bathroom wall if he put his mind to it when he stepped into the shower in the morning.

He pulled deeper on the oars and the boat shot over the water, skirting the lily pads that grew within fifty feet or so of the dock. They were closed for the night, their white and yellow petals furled over their waxy hearts, waiting for the touch of morning sunlight to open again.

Yep, he’d make it an early night. He understood the physician in charge well enough now to realize he’d need all his wits about him in tomorrow’s early-morning face-off with Dr. Callista Layman.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I
S
IT
NECESSARY
to keep two appointment spaces available in the morning and the afternoon for unscheduled cases? We only left one open in the clinic where I worked during my residency.”

“You probably did—but I bet there were several doc-in-a-box clinics and hospital emergency rooms close by, right? And how many of you were there on staff?”

“There were three physicians and two nurse practitioners on staff.”

“And here there’s just the two of us,” Zach pointed out, spreading his hands. “When there are a lot of tourists in town, even that block of time gets used up fast. Usually it’s just sniffles or a sunburn or poison ivy, but no one wants to be sick on vacation in the first place, so to spend half a day driving to Petoskey or Traverse City to the emergency room just makes it worse.”

“Point taken,” she said. And another point lost in their latest sparring match. She bet he was keeping score. She shouldn’t have tried to equate her experience at a busy urban clinic with what went on in White Pine Lake.

“Did you ever consider setting up practice here, I mean before your dad’s SOS brought you back?”

The question caught Callie off guard. “Sure,” she said. “Once I settled on family practice as my specialty, it seemed the logical thing to do, but then, as time went on I realized there were other opportunities out there I wanted to explore.” And by then she had been away from home so long it seemed less familiar and more intimidating.

“For instance?”

He was sitting across from her at the little table positioned by the front window of her half of the duplex, and he seemed to take up a lot of space in the small room. She’d had to stop herself from scooting backward in her chair when he’d sat down twenty minutes earlier, and she still felt as though he was encroaching on her space.

Doc Hottie
. She wished her mother hadn’t called him that. It was far too close to the truth. Maybe if she had been able to keep a bit more distance between them she would stop noticing that he smelled like pine soap and fresh air and a hint of some kind of masculine aftershave that she couldn’t name.

“Well, traveling, for one.” She took a quick breath. She was going to have to start telling people sooner or later. “I’ve got an offer for a two-year contract with a cruise line. They sail the Caribbean in the winter and Mediterranean and Europe in the summer. The salary is minimal, but if I agree to a two-year commitment, they’ll retire almost half my student-loan debt.”

He whistled softly. “That would be a sweet gig.”

“Yes, it would, though I haven’t accepted it yet.”

“Have you mentioned the offer to your dad?”

“No, I haven’t. Not yet, and I’d appreciate it if you keep the information to yourself.” The question struck a nerve; it was just another indication of how her relationship with J.R. had changed since Ginger had arrived on the scene. Before, she would have been on the phone to him the moment she had hung up on the cruise-line headhunter. Instead she had kept it to herself to spare him another thing to worry about, because having her halfway around the world for the next two years would definitely cause him stress.

“I won’t mention it. You’d be a fool not to accept it, though.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

He cocked his head and regarded her with unblinking eyes. “Not sure you’d be advancing your career sailing around the Med for two years in a floating hotel?”

More as if she wasn’t sure she could handle the responsibility alone; she hadn’t done such a great job with the clinic or with her family. Not that she’d admit that to him. She took the opening gratefully. “Possibly. I’m not sure overseeing the aches and pains of overweight, overindulged and overfed tourists is what I put myself through eleven years of medical school for.”

“Ouch,” he said. “Pretty much sums up what I’ve been doing since I got to White Pine Lake?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Callie hadn’t meant to sound so condescending and dismissive. She was only trying to protect herself. She, too, had trained for this kind of a family practice; if not in White Pine Lake, then somewhere else. Was that why she hadn’t jumped at the cruise-line offer the moment her application was accepted? Was that what she really wanted—a rootless, uncommitted lifestyle that didn’t put her skills to the test?

She chose her next words with care. “It isn’t the same at all. What you do here at the clinic is completely different. You treat the whole individual and build a rapport with them and do your best to help them live a long and healthy life.”

“Apology accepted.” His expression was set, though. He didn’t look as if he’d forgiven her tactlessness.

“Would you care for another cup of coffee?” she asked to change the subject.

“Thanks,” he said, standing up, making her even more aware of how completely he dominated the space around him. “I’ll get it myself. Stay sitting.” He took his time pouring a mug from the French press coffeemaker he’d helped her carry in that first night.

She’d done it again, said something to put them both on edge. What was it about the man? She could usually get along with almost anyone. And she couldn’t blame it solely on his alpha-male tendencies. Being an alpha personality was practically a prerequisite in the medical profession.

She found she was staring and decided it would be best to concentrate on something besides the way he moved, all harnessed strength and quiet efficiency. She gazed out the window. A couple of middle-aged guys in a high-end bass boat were casting lures just a few yards from the tethered wooden raft she’d played on as a kid. She wondered if Ginger let Becca and Brandon play on it as she had back in the day. Ginger didn’t seem like a helicopter parent who would consider jumping off an anchored wooden raft too dangerous, but Callie wasn’t sure.

As she watched out the window, two hummingbirds arrived simultaneously to argue over possession of the feeder she’d hung from a hook above the porch railing, swooping and dive-bombing each other. It amazed her how much noise the tiny birds could make. The sound of their wings was the buzzing of a hundred bees. They chattered like angry little squirrels as each of the two females attempted to gain control of the feeder for herself.

“Want a refill?” Zach asked, returning to the table. The movement behind the glass startled the hummers and they took off for the pine trees down the shore, continuing their rivalry in an aerial dogfight that would have impressed a WWI flying ace.

“Thanks, no. I’ve had two. That’s enough for me.”

“Suit yourself.” He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, not khaki colored today, but a warm coppery shade that picked up the highlights of the same hue in his blond hair and the day-old stubble of beard on his chin. A faded scar sliced across his left calf.

Callie suppressed a shiver. The scar came from a bullet wound. She’d seen enough of them working her emergency-medicine rotation. Was that the source of the Purple Heart listed on his service record? She’d come across his résumé while making sure the employee files hadn’t been damaged in the office flood, and she couldn’t resist taking a peek. When had it happened? How? She wondered if they would ever be comfortable enough with each other for her to ask or for him to tell her.

“I really am sorry for that remark about overfed tourists,” she said.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a PA, remember. I can’t go out and practice medicine on my own. I have to go along to get along. I’m used to dealing with M.D.s and their God complexes.”

“I suppose you are.” There was no use denying the truth of what he said. Physician’s assistants were required to be affiliated with an M.D. or a hospital to practice their profession. “Regardless, I don’t care to think of myself as one of those God creatures. It still doesn’t make it right.”

“If had to guess, I’d say I struck a nerve. Playing doctor on a cruise ship? Is it what you really want to do?”

His question startled her into an honest answer. “I’m considering it. I have some time to decide.”

“You realize the committee will probably ask you to stay on. They’d be fools not to. You’re a good doctor. But if you’re determined to go, it will influence the patients I assign to you. I can work with just about any M.D. I get handed, but some of our patients aren’t as flexible. They’re older. They don’t adapt well to change. They’ve already lost Gail, and she was the physician here almost from the day the clinic opened.”

“Everyone is aware I’m only here temporarily.”

“It won’t stop them from being upset when you leave.”

“I understand. I’ll try not to get too close.”

He blew out a breath. “That’s not what I was getting at.”

“Wasn’t it? It doesn’t matter. It’s a good reminder. I’ll keep you informed of my plans.” She pulled her laptop in front of her and opened the lid. “We should get started. I’m ready when you are.”

He hesitated a moment, staring down at his coffee mug before raising his eyes to her face. “Okay. We might as well get this out of the way up front. I would appreciate it if you take...a few...of my more...”

“
Difficult
patients?”

“You could call them that.”

“More specifically, your difficult
female
patients,” she finished for him.

“Yes.” He pushed his coffee mug aside and picked up a pencil, twirling it between his fingers as he avoided her gaze. She had been prepared to stand her ground when the subject came up, but she found the sudden look of discomfiture on his face and the slight reddening of the skin of his throat disarming. “The, um, the ones of a...certain—”

Good heavens, he was blushing. Zach Gibson, uncomfortable, embarrassed, knocked off his stride. She felt sorry for him but it was difficult to keep a smile from sneaking onto her face. Her mother had been right. He was being...
sexually harassed
was probably too strong a term...but certainly he was uncomfortable in at least a few patient relationships. “Premenopausal? Hormonally challenged?”

“You’re enjoying this,” he said, his eyebrows drawing together above those incredibly blue eyes. The color was hard to describe—twilight on a summer day just before moonrise, maybe? Oh, man, what had gotten into her? She sounded as besotted as the women they were discussing. That was not acceptable. “It isn’t only women doctors who find themselves in uncomfortable situations with patients. Let’s just say a couple of them have...boundary issues...”

“Bonnie stays with you in the exam room, doesn’t she?”

“Of course, but let’s just say they’re inventive. I suspect they check her schedule, have emergencies on her day off, that kind of thing.”

“I see,” Callie said.

“In different circumstances I’d refer them to a women’s clinic or an ob-gyn, but that’s not what you do in a rural practice. We’re here to make health care more accessible, not more difficult. And that’s not a dig at your cruise-line offer. It’s the truth, plain and simple.”

She hadn’t considered what they were doing in precisely those terms, but Zach had summed up their specialty very well in a single sentence. “I’ll be happy to take over any patients you believe would be better off under my care, no questions asked.” She sat up a little straighter in her chair and stared fixedly at her laptop. “Want to give me their names?”

He spelled out four names and she dutifully typed them in. Two of them were almost old enough to be his mother, if she remembered them correctly. No wonder he was uncomfortable treating them. “Anyone else?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll inform you if anything else comes up.” He seemed relieved and picked up a dog-eared notebook. No laptop for him but she’d noticed his cell phone was state-of-the-art. “Okay, let’s move on to your other patients. Shall we start with the
A
’s?” Twenty minutes later she had several pages of names and personality sketches, idiosyncrasies, phobias, and likes and dislikes to add to the patient histories she’d find in their charts. A little thrill of excitement danced across her nerve endings. It was as if she had her own well-run practice.

“Now, as far as the acute cases and walk-ins,” he said, breaking into her mental celebration. “I imagine you’ll be handling most of those since your schedule isn’t going to be as full as mine, for the next few weeks, at least.”

“Well, yes, I suppose I will.” She wondered if he really wanted those cases for himself. Deep down inside she couldn’t blame him if he did. He had been trained to cope with situations beyond anything she had ever experienced. He must grow weary some days of encountering nothing more interesting than routine blood pressure and cholesterol checks, but nothing of the kind showed on his face.

Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. He was good at taking things as they came. She wished she was better at it. It would make her life easier all around.

“Bonnie’s a rock when it comes to emergencies. She’s seen it all, and Leola is no slouch at triage. If she says someone has walked in complaining of chest pain and she thinks it’s an MI, you can be darned sure it’s a heart attack, not indigestion from the all-you-can-eat fish fry at the White Pine.” He paused, waiting to see how she would handle that little zinger he’d tacked on to the end of his sentence, but she was ready for him and didn’t react.

“I’ll remember that.” She relaxed her shoulders and smiled.

* * *

W
HAM
! I
T
HIT
Zach
right in the gut, that quick, incandescent smile. It nearly took his breath away. He recovered enough to ask, “Any other questions, Dr. Layman?”

“Not right now. If I have any later, I’ll send you a text.”

He found himself trying to find something witty to say that would make her smile again. He hadn’t been this fixated on getting a girl to smile since eighth grade. He couldn’t remember that girl’s name anymore after so many years, but she had been his first real crush. He might have actually gotten up the nerve to ask her out if he hadn’t been shuffled to yet another foster home halfway through the school year. After that he hadn’t put too much effort into attracting girls, instead concentrating on sports and fantasizing about owning his own car. By the time he was sixteen, he found they were starting to come after him, anyway. That was pretty much how he’d operated in the romance department ever since. Nothing serious. Nothing permanent.