Bobbi sighed. “One hundred and forty thousand.”
Erin’s heart dropped. “My God.”
“It’s only money,” Bobbi said, shrugging.
“But how can you ever hope to get out of debt? Family practice in rural areas can’t be that lucrative.”
“Actually, family practice docs fall at the bottom among physician salaries, notoriously. Add rural practice, it’s the lowest salary of any physician group.”
“Wow. And you aren’t worried?”
Bobbi shook her head. “I don’t worry about money. I have an old car that suits me fine. I don’t care much about living space—you’ve seen my sparse condo. I don’t like jewelry and I don’t need many new clothes. I live pretty simply. Well, except for my tech habit.”
Erin took this in. “You know that’s a spiritual discipline—simplicity of life.”
“Spiritual, huh? For me, it’s just how I grew up. Not much to spend money on in eastern Oregon. We lived on a ranch about forty miles from the nearest big town. We made our own entertainment, rode horses, played cards in the winter, hiked the mountains in the summer. But we worked hard. My parents weren’t into making a show; they instilled in us a good attitude toward money.”
“They didn’t help you financially with medical school?” Erin wondered how Bobbi had survived.
“They didn’t have the means. I had a couple of scholarships for undergraduate at the state school. I had rural scholarships for medical school and residency. Still, the debt added up. I worked weekends, as an aide at the local hospital during high school and college,” Bobbi said matter of factly. “Did you work during school?”
“No. Mom and Dad insisted I focus on school. They took out parent loans and I took out student loans. Northwestern had scholarships for clergy kids, so that helped.”
They drove into Erin’s driveway. After getting in the door, she took Bobbi’s coat and directed her to the couch.
“Beer or wine?” Erin called from the kitchen.
“Beer,” Bobbi answered.
Erin walked in with two beers and handed one to Bobbi, then took her seat a few inches from Bobbi. She said, “I have a lot of respect for you, Doctor.”
Bobbi grinned. “Why is that? Because I’m poor and not likely to get rich being a physician?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Believe me, I met those guys in med school. The ones who ended up in high-end specialties; the oncologists, urologists. Don’t even ask about the surgeons or those guys and gals who would take over their daddy’s practice with little outlay required. I didn’t hang out with them. I hung out with others like me, the primary care types, family practice, internal medicine, and pediatrics, and some of the obstetrics types too. I always wanted to work with people from cradle to grave, with minor and major problems. Where doctors see people over time, have relationships with families. And don’t think it’s all touchy-feely. I’m big on using my scientific mind. Diagnosis is like a mystery I can solve. Only I get paid to do it. And I get to help people at the same time.” Bobbi drank deeply of her beer. “Also, FYI, the pay isn’t exactly poverty level. I’ll be making six figures this year and next in my fellowship.”
“Gee, puts my measly salary to shame, doesn’t it?” Erin reflected on their conversation. Deciding to move into other topics, she asked Bobbi about her family. “I remember you said you had two brothers, and your mom’s a teacher, your dad a rancher, and they’re all in Oregon?”
“Yep,” Bobbi answered.
“Are you close to them?”
“Mom and I had the usual mother-daughter issues. I didn’t wear dresses; she wanted me to put on makeup. That kind of conflict. But my folks are down to earth, practical types. I am too. I liked the way we were raised. If we did our chores, everything went smoothly. If we talked back or got crazy as teens, it didn’t fly. We knew what was expected of us and we did it. Simple, our life, really.” Bobbi sipped more of her beer. “How about you? Are you close to your folks?”
“I’d say somewhat. My sisters and I like each other, but my life is so different. They’ve got their husbands, and now are starting families, so we don’t have as much to talk about, not much in common with a lesbian priest.” Erin chuckled. “I’m close to my mom, but less so with my dad, even though we share a profession. He advised me during the ordination process, but he didn’t butt in, didn’t tell me how to do my job. I appreciated that. Mom and I joke around a lot. She’s a nurse, you know, the nurturing kind, so that occasionally gets in the way. But overall, I’m happy with my family. We genuinely like each other, which I know sounds corny, but it’s true. Not as much dysfunction as some families. No alcoholics or drug addicts. One sister was diagnosed with post-partum depression last year, but no real mental problems with us. We’re kind of dull and boring, really.”
“I think my youngest brother, the new-age hippie in Portland, might be doing his share of weed, but that’s about it for us. It’s legal in Oregon, but still, I don’t like it. I had a bout with drugs in my teens. Not hard stuff, just weed. I tried some other stuff too and decided I didn’t like it. I guess I’m just a beer gal.” Bobbi finished her beer and plunked it down on the coffee table for emphasis, smiling.
Bobbi’s phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket. “Sorry,” she said, as she rose from the couch and went into the kitchen to answer. When she came back into the living area, Bobbi had a disappointed look on her face. “I’m afraid I have to go. One of my patients was admitted to BCH.”
Erin came to her. “I’m sorry.” She waited a minute, then said, “Listen, you’re on call all weekend. How about I bring some dinner by your house tomorrow? Or wherever you are.”
Bobbi looked surprised. “Holy shit. Oops, sorry. You don’t have to do that. Don’t you have things to do Saturdays?”
“I’m fine. I have to cook anyway. I might as well make it for two.” Erin smiled and shrugged.
Bobbi grinned. “That’d be fantastic. Sometimes I’m scarfing down cardboard pizza from the break room, so real food will be a treat. Thanks a lot, Erin.” Bobbi leaned in to kiss her.
Erin found her lips and kissed Bobbi back, bringing her tongue to taste Bobbi’s lips and gently push between them. Bobbi responded in kind and drew Erin closer in a hug. She brushed her hand down Erin’s back.
Erin began to feel the warmth of Bobbi’s body all along her front. Bobbi felt both soft and muscular. She circled Bobbi’s neck and played with her short curls. Both of their breathing deepened. Erin’s lower core warmed with the telltale sensations of attraction. Her clitoris throbbed. She pushed Bobbi away slightly and ended the kiss. “Wow,” she said softly.
“I need to get to the hospital,” Bobbi muttered into Erin’s hair. “Thanks for the beer. And for the movie.” Bobbi pulled away, put on her coat, and neared the front door. She looked at Erin intently, drew her in for another kiss, then said, “Good night.”
Erin shut the door, sighing like a love-struck kid. “Oh boy, Dr. Webster. We’ve got a long path ahead of us.”
After tonight, she realized she wanted to address the short-term nature of Bobbi’s time in Colorado. Even though she was not one to shelter herself from relationships, she knew she needed not to hurt Bobbi. Bobbi wanted to attain her goal of going back to practice in rural Oregon in less than two years. Erin wanted to be careful with both her and Bobbi’s hearts.
She turned the outside light off and went into the kitchen to check what she could cook for Bobbi and her for dinner tomorrow night.
Chapter Twenty-two
Bobbi heard her phone vibrate on the countertop while she wrapped up her patient charting. She drew her hand over her eyes. She’d been at the clinic seeing Dr. Garcia-Brown’s rescheduled patients all day Saturday, and just finished with the last of the Saturday walk-ins. Her stomach growled from missing lunch. She picked up the phone and answered, noting it was Erin’s number.
“Hey, Doc. This is Erin’s Catering Service. Where are you? Where do you want your dinner deli
vered?”
“Hi,” Bobbi answered and laughed. “I’m still at the clinic. I’ve been so busy today, I forgot I’m getting a genuine meal tonight.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
True to her word, Erin walked into the clinic, carrying a small basket with a cloth covering it. Bobbi smelled wonderful odors wafting up and she tried to peek in. “Smells great. What d’ya have for me?”
“Roast chicken, biscuits, and a salad, with brownies for dessert.”
“Yum,” Bobbi said, rubbing her hands together.
Erin unpacked the basket while Bobbi grabbed paper plates and plastic forks from the break room cabinet. Bobbi helped Erin put food on the plates for each of them. Erin gave them each a biscuit and tossed the salad into two, small, brightly colored, plastic bowls she had brought.
“I’m starved,” Bobbi said. She grabbed utensils and raked food into her mouth, her eyes closing in ecstasy.
Erin ate across from her at the break room table and grinned at Bobbi’s expression. “You’re easy, Doc.”
“What do you mean by that?” Bobbi joked, frowning.
Erin laughed. “Been busy today?”
Bobbi sighed. Between bites, she said, “Been crazy. Dr. Garcia-Brown’s patients were rescheduled from yesterday. I also had the usual Saturday walk-ins. By the way, his wife had a baby girl around two this afternoon, and everyone’s fine. But, I’ve barely had time to breathe.”
Erin shook her head. “Glad you’re able to take a break—”
Bobbi’s phone buzzed. She sighed and answered, walking into the hallway for privacy. Two minutes later, she reentered the break room. “I’ve got to get the exam room ready. A kid probably needing stitches coming in.” Bobbi quirked her head in apology and left Erin.
A few minutes later, Erin popped into the exam room Bobbi had been preparing. “I left the rest of the brownies in the fridge.”
Bobbi looked up from her work and moved to the door. She took Erin into her arms, whispering, “I appreciate you coming over with dinner. Thanks.” She kissed her, hugging her tightly to her body. When Erin pulled away, Bobbi felt the loss of warmth and softness. Erin made Bobbi do a happy dance inside.
Stan led the boy and his parents down the hallway. Bobbi waved to Erin and brought them into the treatment room. “What have we got here, young man?”
****
On Sunday morning, Erin walked into church ready for the late service, seeing about forty people filling the pews. She stood in back, waiting for the pianist to take up the first hymn, when she thought she noticed a familiar head of short, curly, dark blond hair. Bobbi sat in one of the back pews by herself, reading the bulletin, a hymnal open beside her on the pew.
Astounded, Erin finally realized she needed to proceed down the aisle when the first strains of the hymn played.
After the service, Bobbi met her in line with the other parishioners, and shook her hand.
“Mother Erin, good to see you.” Bobbi had a smug smile.
“And I’m astonished to see you.” The line of parishioners behind Erin looked intently at them. “I’ll see you at coffee hour.”
Later, in the small parish hall, Bobbi walked up to Erin, both of them holding Styrofoam cups of hot coffee. Bobbi held a cookie in her other hand.
“I’m so surprised that you’re here,” Erin said.
Bobbi merely smiled enigmatically in return.
“You’re not going to tell me why you’re here?”
“No reason. I had a good sleep last night for a change. I wanted to see what your Sunday looked like. What you might say in a sermon. I liked it, by the way. The sermon.” Bobbi still smirked.
Erin looked at Bobbi askance. “I don’t know that I trust you. You’re not a church person, and I always distrust the motives of those who don’t go to church.”
“Why would you do that? I’d think you’d want new folks coming.” Bobbi ate her cookie and took a sip of the coffee. “Are you free for lunch? I can’t promise I won’t get called in.”
Erin gazed at Bobbi. “I have some things to take care of after coffee hour. Can you give me forty-five minutes?”
Bobbi finished off the cookie in one bite and downed the last of the coffee. “Sure. Can I wait upstairs for you?”
“My office is open. Just go down this hall and to your left. It’s the last door on the right. Can’t miss it.”
“See you later.” Bobbi winked.
Chapter Twenty-three
Bobbi walked around the overstuffed bookshelves in Erin’s office.
Seminary reading looked as bad as medical school. She picked up a very large tome on theology, which seemed to be equivalent in size to Bobbi’s internal medicine textbook. She flipped through the table of contents. God. Creation. Sin. Salvation. Holy Spirit. Church. Sacraments. The list went on. What was Eschatology?
Bobbi sighed, replaced the book, and walked slowly around Erin’s office, looking at icons on the credenza. She smelled a sweet spiciness in the room. The desk was very neatly arranged, but she laughed at the Jesus bobblehead and some finger puppets of guys with beards lying across the front, along with a collection of several stuffed sheep.
“Like my kingdom?” Erin quipped, as she entered the office while taking off her vestments. She hung up her robe.
“It’s full of books. Looks like my apartment when I was in med school. And what’s that smell?” Bobbi asked, watching Erin sit at her desk and rev up her laptop.
“Frankincense. I get it at the local marijuana shop.” Erin grinned. “If you can wait a few minutes, I have to send some emails and update our web site with my sermon.”
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Just be patient, is all.” Erin typed away.
Bobbi sat in one of the old chairs and reread the service bulletin, much of which was in a foreign language to her. Introit. Gloria. Sursum Corda. Sanctus and Benedictus. Even though her Latin was confined to medical terminology, Bobbi could make out some of the words. But why did they still use Latin and Greek? It left her confused.
After a half hour, Erin sighed. “Okay. I think that’ll do it.” She rose from her desk. “Ready? Let’s go next door to my place. I’ll change clothes.” She turned to Bobbi. “Actually, do you mind if we don’t go out for lunch? I’m kinda beat.”
Bobbi looked at Erin’s drooping face. “Dumb me. Of course, you’re tired.”
Erin shrugged. “I usually take my pastoral nap on Sunday afternoon.”
“Geez. I’m sorry. I should’ve realized you’d be taxed after Sunday morning.” Bobbi pondered a second. “I can cook brunch. How would that be? You can relax. Do you have eggs?”
Erin’s eyes brightened. “Really? You’d cook for me? Yes. Yes. Yes.” Erin hugged Bobbi. “I think I love you.” Erin stepped back out of Bobbi’s arms, her eyes wide with shock.
Bobbi smiled, amused at Erin’s statement. She chuckled softly.
“I…Wow, you know what I mean.”
Bobbi was enamored of Erin’s endearing blush. “I got you. You’re happy I’ll cook us some omelets.”
“Whew. Thanks for understanding.”
They got their coats on and walked next door.
Erin went into her room to change, after showing Bobbi the layout of her kitchen and everything she’d need for making brunch. Bobbi found an apron on a hook next to the fridge and collected all her ingredients to make spinach and cheese omelets.
Erin came back dressed in jeans and a top. Bobbi looked down at her feet and raised a brow. “Bunny slippers?”
Erin playfully smacked her arm. “Don’t make fun of a priest’s Sunday afternoon comfort. What do you wear when you get home?”
Bobbi made a show of thinking hard. “Let’s see…normal jeans, normal flannel shirt, normal sneakers. You know, normal stuff.”
“Smartass.” Erin neared Bobbi and rubbed her hand over her back. “Get back to work, chef.”
They both laughed. Bobbi liked the easy banter between them.
In a short while, Bobbi plated her finished omelets and added pieces of toast, while Erin poured the coffee she’d made. They sat across from each other at Erin’s dining table.
Erin said grace. “Thanks. This looks amazing, Bobbi.”
“I forgot I knew how to make these things. I do so little cooking for myself. It’s no fun cooking for one and eating alone.”
“Know what you mean, but I try. My mom instilled that habit of cooking in me.”
“My mom did the opposite. I worked outside with Dad and my brother Matt after school, so we came in tired and hungry. Dinner was always on the table. Even though Mom had to be as tired as we were, coming from a long school day, wrangling third graders.”
“Was there a division of labor by sex on the ranch?”
“Not so much. Dad used me like the boys. And Mom made all of us do housework. We had to keep our rooms clean, the bed made, clothes picked up. When we hit thirteen, we each did our own laundry after we got a laundry basket for Christmas.”
Erin looked surprised. “Impressive.”
Bobbi shook her head, remembering the laundry failures. “I didn’t say we did laundry well. All of us had our share of accidently dyed shirts and shrunken wool socks and sweaters.”
Erin gazed into Bobbi’s face tenderly. “I love to hear you laugh.” She took Bobbi’s hand.
Bobbi rose from her chair and took both of the plates to the sink. She came back and took Erin’s hand to lift her from her chair, then drew her into her arms. “I’ve been wanting to hold you since I saw you this morning in church.”
Erin snuggled and hummed. “This may be better than a pastoral nap.”
Bobbi felt her soft, small body and felt protective. She hugged her more tightly, then bent to kiss her.
They kissed, standing next to the dining table, for some minutes. Bobbi began to heat up, her tongue found Erin’s, and the kisses deepened. “Oh, God,” Bobbi intoned. She felt she was about to enter the zone of no-return.
Bobbi and Soul Page 14