****
At Ryan Delaney Clinic on Monday, Bobbi finished her last patient of the day and sped through the paperwork in record time, then sprinted to the conference room to be briefed on last night’s on-call experience. She looked forward to a slow Monday night, as most patients had taken care of medical issues from the weekend by coming to the clinic. But rural folks didn’t abide by suburban- or city-dwellers’ rules. Because they needed to put in a full day’s work, ranchers, farmers, and blue-collar workers might wait until evening to notice an injury or illness. Doctors Lambert and Jaime Garcia-Brown were already discussing last night’s call when Bobbi arrived.
Jaime hailed from eastern Colorado, a hometown boy who had made good in his Hispanic-American family. His energy pulsed around him like electricity. Bobbi wondered how much of his energy arose from his wife being eight months pregnant with their first child.
As she entered, Jaime was speaking. “…two flu and some colds called in early evening. Nothing after that.”
“Any questions, Doctor?” Gen looked at Bobbi.
Bobbi shook her head. “I think I’m good to go.” Dr. Lambert’s auburn hair shone in the light of the conference room. Bobbi noted intelligence in her keen eyes. Yancy Delaney was very lucky to be engaged to this sharp woman.
“You may want to stop the pre-call conferences, Dr. Lambert.” Jaime nodded his head of black, straight hair in agreement. “I think the three of us rural fellows can handle the call situation now after nearly a month. Except for the air evac last week, none of us have run into anything out of our experience.”
“You may be right. But, please be sure you call me if any unusual cases arise, or any strange issues, like the air evac.”
Both the junior doctors nodded their heads.
Bobbi said good night to the two others.
She went home to get some supper, however meager the contents of her kitchen. Ever since she had been a medical student in an apartment on her own, she had yet to master the adult skills of shopping and cooking for herself, a quirk Stephanie seemed to especially criticize. Her fridge held a few leftovers from local fast food places, which, in this small town, didn’t give her many choices. She sighed and grabbed last night’s Tex-Mex leftovers, warmed them in the microwave, and sat on the couch, watching the national news to rest before her night on call. Around ten-thirty, she went to bed with her phone on the nightstand.
At 2:47, the shrill beep of the phone woke her from a sound sleep. Instantly, her training kicked in and she picked up her cell phone. “Yes. Dr. Webster.”
The service gave her a phone number that looked familiar to her. With the light of the phone, she punched in the numbers.
“Doctor, this is Maria, Harold Mendes’s daughter. The hospice nurse is here. My father just died.”
Bobbi squinted in the light of her phone. “What? I’m not sure I heard you. You said your father just died?”
“Yes. Since you are his doctor, the hospice nurse wanted me to inform you.”
Bobbi shook her head and rubbed her brow. “But he just began hospice. I’m so sorry.”
Marie sniffled. “Thank you. Dad was ready to go. He was ninety-nine; his body was failing him. He went the way he wanted to go.” She heard muffled voices over the phone. “Wait, please, Mother Erin wants to speak to you.”
“Hello, Dr. Webster. I want to thank you for understanding Harold’s wishes. He died peacefully without regaining consciousness. I came when Maria called me about an hour ago, to anoint and pray for him.”
Bobbi sat up in bed. “Is there anything you need me to do right now, Rev…er, Mother Erin?”
“Nothing, but thank you, Doctor. I need to go help Maria with some things. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome,” Bobbi answered with a questioning hesitation in her voice. She ended the call and shook her head. “What was that all about?” she mumbled to herself as she rose to go to the bathroom.
Why did they call her? There was no emergency. Nothing for a doctor to do. It could have waited until the morning. And, Bobbi felt more coerced than really acceding to Mr. Mendes’s wishes. Oh well, chalk that one up to another clinical experience. Bobbi’s mind went over the weird phone call.
Then the cute face of Erin O’Rourke came into view. Very cute. Why did she have to be a bible thumper?
Although, from what Bobbi had heard, churches that ordained women were on the liberal side of Christianity. So, maybe she wasn’t one of those Christians—the ones who judged her and her “lifestyle.” What the hell did that even mean? Her lifestyle consisted of eating take-out food and working her ass off for the good of other people. She paid her taxes and tried to live a simple life without undue luxury. Her biggest splurge last year was for camping gear, since, when she left Oregon, she also left her brother Matt’s tent and other equipment.
Back to Erin. She’d also picked up an interesting gaydar ping on Erin. She probably worked in a super-liberal church. Why an out lesbian chose to work in a patriarchal structure like the Christian church gave her pause. The whole idea gave Bobbi shivers, as she turned off her light and wrestled the covers over her weary body. That petite body. Her aggressiveness that night at Mr. Mendes’s house. Bobbi blew out a deep breath. Breathe, in, out, in, out.
Chapter Seven
“Come on in,” Erin said to Dr. Genevieve Lambert and Yancy Delaney, at two o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon in February. She indicated the two old armchairs in her office as she rolled her office chair from behind the desk to join them in a triangle for conversation. “Can I get you anything?”
“Nothing, thank you, Mother Erin,” Yancy said, surveying the small, shabby office. The walls needed paint. The bookshelves were inadequate for the books overflowing onto the floor. The armchairs looked worse for wear. A thin, faded oriental rug completed the shabby-chic design.
Incense had burned in the air recently. Colorful icons drew Yancy’s attention, and she brought herself back to the present. “As you know, my mother, Nina Delaney, recommended you for our upcoming marriage.”
“Yes. I met her at Diocesan Council at my first meeting last month. She’s a real go-getter.”
Yancy grinned. “She’s got a lot of spunk for a sixty-nine-year-old. Keeps pretty busy with several groups.”
Erin looked intently at Yancy and Gen. “Before we start with paperwork and calendars, tell me about you two.”
Gen smiled. “I moved here last year to take the medical director position at Valley View, and met Yancy, who until last week was the president of the board. We started dating, and well…” Gen caught Yancy’s eyes while squeezing her hand. “Anyway, here we are.”
“I can tell you are devoted to each other.” Erin smiled warmly. “So, any previous marriages?”
Yancy took a deep breath and spoke first. “I had a two-year committed relationship. Trish died five years ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Erin peered at Yancy, but gave her a look of understanding, not one of pity, which Yancy found difficult to bear.
Yancy glanced down at Gen and linked their hands in her lap. “Yeah, cancer. She was only forty-one. I had to get over my grief before I could be in another serious relationship.”
“Understandably.” Erin paused, but Yancy kept silent, looking down at their clasped hands. “And what about you, Gen?”
“I am officially divorced for four years now. We were married nine years. She was unfaithful, causing us to have a crisis that we couldn’t overcome.”
Erin nodded. “I see. This was where?”
“We lived in Kentucky. She was a pathologist and I led the Rural Health Initiative for family medicine. We were both at the University.”
Erin nodded while riffling some documents on the desk, then gathered them and a yellow legal pad. “It’s great to meet you two. Before we are done with our weeks together in pre-nuptial counseling, I’ll come to know you fairly well. But, first things first. Do you have an idea of the dates we’re considering?”
Yancy and Gen talked with Erin to set up their date. They then jumped into the discussion of Gen’s Roman Catholic background. Erin explained that the divorce would cause extra paperwork for the bishop’s approval.
“Will there be a problem?” Gen asked.
“No. The bishop deals with divorced people asking for second marriage all the time. And being Roman Catholic doesn’t matter at all.” She smiled warmly.
She’s just like a little pixie, Yancy thought, smiling, taking in Erin’s short, dark brown hair and her petite frame. The whimsical items on her clean desk—a bobble-head Jesus, a Moses finger puppet, and several types of stuffed toy sheep—added to Erin’s charm. She looked like a teenager. How old was she?
After filling out the forms for the bishop’s approval, Yancy and Gen left Erin’s office with a website password to take their online, prenuptial-counseling questionnaire.
“I think this counseling will be fun.” Gen threaded her arm through Yancy’s on the way to the Rover. “And she is the perfect minister to do our wedding.”
“I like her.” Yancy glanced at Gen to gauge her reaction.
“She’s cute. And she’s single. I should set her up with Dr. Webster.” Gen smiled wickedly at Yancy.
“Oh, geez.” Yancy shook her head as she helped Gen into the tall, truck-like car. “Dr. Webster doesn’t strike me as the type to date a priest.”
“You never know until you try,” Gen answered with a twinkle in her eye.
Yancy groaned, but smiled at her fiancée, who, just like her friend Roxie, yearned to see all the single people around her matched up.
Chapter Eight
After her prenuptial appointment, Erin drove over to the hospital to see her favorite parishioner, Charlotte, who’d been admitted with pneumonia. Charlotte Stephens, a sprightly eighty-seven-year-old, kept her on her toes with her wit and biting humor, so she looked forward to seeing her today. Erin had lucked out to have such a grounded, practical woman to work with as her vestry’s senior warden.
As she walked toward Charlotte’s room, she saw the usual postings for an isolation room, requiring her to don a paper gown and latex gloves to enter. Erin stopped and did as directed, then entered to find Charlotte hooked up to an oxygen cannula, looking pale.
“Well, if it isn’t the lady priest.” Charlotte used her pet name for Erin. “Good to see you, Mother.”
“Hi, Charlotte. Thought I would bring communion for you, since you missed Sunday.”
“Didn’t need to go all out for me, kid.” Charlotte patted the bed.
Erin grinned. She bent down and hugged Charlotte lightly. They discussed Charlotte’s pneumonia while Erin took items from her communion kit and laid them out on Charlotte’s rolling table.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Erin whirled around to meet the angry eyes of Dr. Webster.
“She’s giving me communion, you heathen,” Charlotte shot back.
“Those items are not allowed in here. This room has restrictions.” Bobbi pointed to the communion set on the table.
“Well, suck it up, buttercup, ‘cause I’m having communion with my priest.” Charlotte glared at the doctor, breathing hard.
Dr. Webster took two steps and was at Charlotte’s bedside, taking her pulse. “You’re getting riled up, Mrs. Stephens.”
“Damn right I am. I don’t care what that sign says outside my door, my priest is here and all I want is some time to pray and take communion.”
Bobbi pursed her lips and looked daggers between Mrs. Stephens and Erin. Finally, she spoke, pointing to the communion vessels. “Are those items clean?”
“Silver communion vessels are put in boiling water to clean them after each use, Doctor,” Erin replied in an even voice, standing tall at five foot even, and giving her a steady glare. “I would appreciate it if we could have some time together for spiritual care.”
Bobbi spun away and called on her way out, “Don’t overtax the patient. You have ten minutes.”
Erin had detected Bobbi’s ashen look when she approached Mrs. Stephens. Erin smelled a fragrant perfume Charlotte wore. Was it a trigger for the doctor? Erin became intrigued about Dr. Webster’s quick departure.
An hour later, when Erin got home after seeing Mrs. Stephens, she threw her parka on the couch and went immediately to the fridge for a glass of wine. She was madder than a Bears fan after a loss to the Green Bay Packers. That damn doctor. What the hell was wrong with her? And why did she push Erin’s buttons so much? Usually, Erin let the antics of annoying people roll over her.
Erin relived the encounter in Charlotte’s hospital room several times while she sipped her Pinot Noir. Finally, realizing she needed to vent, she rang Julia Wachtmann, her colleague and friend in town, hoping she wasn’t tied up with an evening meeting. Erin was grateful when she answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Julia. It’s Erin. Do you have a minute?”
“Hi. Ray’s making dinner, so I’m good. What’s up?”
“Wow. Ray sounds like he’s doing better.”
“The nephrologist said it was a miracle. They thought his kidneys were shutting down, but after the dialysis, all the blood work started to get back to normal last week, and he bounced back as good as new. The doctor said he’d had a stubborn kidney infection. We’re both a little giddy.” Julia breathed deeply and continued, “So enough about us. What did you need, kiddo?”
“I’m calling to bitch. Do you know Dr. Webster at the clinic? A new resident or something over in Babcock County.”
“Hmm. Don’t know if I’ve run into a Webster. In my hospital visits, I see Dr. Lambert, and that one guy, the cardio guy who has treated one of my people, can’t remember his name. Dr. Lambert’s great. Very personable. Kinda cute, too, don’t you think?”
“She’s marrying the clinic board’s president. Why do straight people try to fix up gay people with the first gay person they meet?”
Julia chuckled. “Sorry. My bad. Who’s this other doctor you’re talking about?”
“That’s why I need an ear to listen to me rant and rave. For one thing, she’s a real stickler for protocol. I had a ninety-nine-year old who had a stroke at home, whom she wanted to hospitalize against his wishes. His daughter and I had to rally on his behalf before she would back down, even though he had a DNR order. Then today, I visited a sweet lady who’s in isolation. I put on the stupid gown and stuff and got ready to give her communion when Dr. Take Charge nearly threw me out of her room, claiming my communion kit was dirty.”
“Sheesh.”
“Yeah. That’s what I said.” Erin sipped her wine. “That M.D. after her name has overpowered her understanding of patients’ needs. She sure needs to be in charge.”
“No ministers are like that, for heaven’s sake.” Julia snickered.
“Oh, shut up. She’s a pain in my backside, that’s for sure.”
Julia waited a beat. “Not to sound too pastoral, but why are you taking this personally?”
“What? I’m not taking it personally. What are you talking about? Wait a minute, you think just ‘cause she’s good looking and a lesbian I have a thing for her!”
“Hold it. How would I know if she’s a good-looking lesbian? You didn’t tell me that.” Julia softly giggled into the phone. “Wow, now I know what’s going on. You told on yourself, my friend.”
Erin held the phone away from the loud laughter hitting her ear and groaned. She had given herself away. Damn. “Okay, smart ass. She is very attractive. But also, she is arrogant. I don’t think she’s my type. Got it?”
“Sure. Sure, whatever you say.” More laughter.
****
Bobbi ran another circuit around the gym before collapsing on a bench, sweat dripping down her T-shirt. All afternoon, she fumed about that annoying elf, Mother Erin. Twice now, the minister had messed with her patients. Today, she had compromised the isolation room with her stuff. Maybe Mr. Mendes would still be alive and well had she not interfered in his treatmen
t.
She was a pain in the butt. Should Bobbi report her to hospital administration? What would she say? That she, Dr. Roberta Webster, couldn’t handle an irritating imp, all five feet of her? Just the thought made her ashamed she’d let Erin get to her.
And why couldn’t she get that cute face out of her mind? Big brown, chocolate-drop eyes, an adorable haircut, everything about her petite and feminine, in contrast to Bobbi’s own muscular, five-foot-eight body. Next to her, Bobbi felt like a clumsy oaf. Just like she did with Stephanie. Damn.
And Mrs. Stephens’ perfume didn’t help. Her heart ramped up. The therapist had told her that small things could set her off, making memories return. She hadn’t expected something like that, and with a patient, too.
But why should any of this matter? She had a dinner date tonight with Amanda from the hospital. Just her style. No ties to bind her. Amanda didn’t remind her of last year. She was safe. Nothing to keep her from her single-minded focus on her work. Amanda, like the few, casual friends with benefits during her residency, didn’t get in the way of her pursuing her goals. Bobbi needed low-maintenance relationships, especially after Stephanie. Nothing, least of all love and its messy consequences, could stand in her way to becoming an excellent rural, family medicine doctor.
No matter how cute, this vexing elf Erin was off the relationship table.
****
As Yancy stepped into the back door of the ranch house, her cell rang. “Hey,” Yancy answered. “Just thinking about you.”
“Are we still on for tomorrow night?” Roxie, Yancy’s best friend, asked.
“Sure. You’re making chili and we’re bringing dessert. I think Gen’s making a raw apple cake.”
“Wow. I love apple cake. Make sure you bring some ice cream. Haven’t had apple cake since my Granny made it when I was a kid.” Roxie waited a beat, then continued. “I’ve asked some other folks to come too.”
Yancy recognized Roxie’s “sneaky voice”. “Okay, let’s hear it, dork.”
Bobbi and Soul Page 5