No Good Doctor

by Nicole Snow

  7

  Old Dog, New Tricks (Ember)

  I really don’t know how he does it.

  With summer creeping in, it’s getting hot outside. Standard laws of physics mean that when placed in an environment whose ambient temperature is warmer than freezing, even by one degree, things should change. Ice should melt.

  But not our resident Ice King.

  Even when one day edges toward ninety degrees, he’s still just as frosty, day in and day out.

  It’s almost entertaining to watch. And Pam and I are watching, while we take our lunch break in a little side room that’s mostly used for storage, but at least has a coffee pot, a microwave, and comfy chairs.

  Plus, a really great view of the front lobby.

  Doc stands next to the reception desk, so tall he has to bow his head to meet the eyes of the woman simpering up at him with an armful of wriggling skunk. It’s this adorable little beast, bright-eyed and straight out of Bambi, but holy Toledo, I hope she got its scent glands removed before she adopted it.

  Or I’m not coming off break until she leaves.

  Pam pops a bite of lasagna in her mouth, never taking her eyes off them as she leans in to whisper conspiratorially to me, chewing the whole time. “It’s disgusting, ain’t it?”

  I choke on one of my crispy veggie straws, trying not to laugh, and take a quick swig of my crème soda to wash it down. “Pam. Be nice. I’m sure she’s perfectly sweet.”

  “Oh, I ain’t calling her disgusting, sugar.” She arches a brow pointedly. “I’m saying it’s disgusting he’d even give them the time of day when you’re right here.” She preens, primping her hair. “And me, of course. My Roger wouldn’t mind giving me a hall pass for one night, I’ll tell you what.”

  “Pam!” I splutter, coughing – and this time I have to thump my chest before I can breathe again, wheezing with laughter.

  Then Doc looks over his shoulder, pinning us both with a sharp, disapproving look.

  We freeze. I plaster on my best hey-there-awesomesauce innocent expression, while Pam just smiles warmly and wiggles her fingers. Doc curls his upper lip.

  His back turns stonily to us again, while we collapse against each other in a fit of whispery giggles.

  It shouldn’t be so funny.

  But somehow, over quiet nights, after seeing the adorable curmudgeon underneath that cold exterior...I just can’t find those sternly disapproving looks scary anymore.

  Especially when just today I’ve had to bandage him up for the third time.

  And here I thought I was clumsy.

  But when Doc gets in the zone, he’ll let an animal bite, claw, scratch, or peck him to pieces if it means giving them their care. His appetite just might be endless for the punishment dished out by our wilder patients.

  It’s not all bad. I don’t really mind those quiet moments with his intense green eyes on me, watching while I clean his wounds and try not to linger on running my hands over the fascinating texture of his scars.

  But I flick Pam’s arm, whispering behind my hand. “You’ve got to stop saying things like that.”

  She gives a thin smile. Okay, fine, maybe I’ll admit it’s helped a lot over the last two weeks.

  When I first came here, I was shy and nervous and so sure I didn’t belong.

  I still get shaky around Doc, especially when he stands too close to me, and every tiny goosebump on my body stands up in breathless prickles, but I’m not jumping at every sound anymore or trying to self-efface myself out of the room.

  A lot of it has to do with Pam. Her shameless humor would make anyone feel welcome, I swear.

  And as long as she’s busy teasing me about Doc, I can treat this tight, fluttery feeling in the pit of my stomach like a joke.

  It has to be a joke, right? Nothing could ever happen between us, not in a gazillion years. But the way my heart beats around him, the way my breaths catch when those hard, forbidding looks linger a little longer than I think they probably should...

  Not real.

  It’s not freaking real.

  It’s just me and my imagination, looking for something to anchor my world, after Dad’s death sent it spinning and it never quite slowed down.

  I don’t know if I could ever figure Doc out, anyway.

  He’s such an enigma: so kind to animals, frostily polite to customers, gruffly dismissive with me and Pam.

  I think the only time I’ve ever seen him defrost with an actual human being was the other day when Haley and Warren brought their aging orange tabby Mozart in for a routine checkup and a refresh on his vaccinations. My jaw dropped when Doc greeted Mozart like an old friend, saying they had a ‘special relationship.’ There’d actually been teasing.

  Warren bringing up their old fishing trips, and Doc biting back that he couldn’t call them fishing trips when Warren never actually caught any fish.

  He never smiled. Never laughed. Still that same biting, sardonic tone.

  But there was something about it.

  Something warm, something familiar, something that said Warren and Hay are people who matter in his life, and guess what?

  It makes me happy.

  Really, really happy just knowing that no matter how cold Doc pretends to be on the surface, he has people to care about and people who care about him.

  Not that it’s any of my business, I remind myself.

  After all, it shouldn’t matter to me who is or isn’t in Doc Caldwell’s life.

  But I can’t help a touch of satisfaction when that pretty girl with her skunk slinks away with her tail between her legs, obviously disappointed at being rebuffed. Score one for the Ice King.

  Too bad there’s a little twinge of my disappointment, too. She looks like me.

  Tiny, petite, blonde, though her hair is cut into a cute little pageboy while mine’s like an outdated old Jennifer Aniston if only because I let old layers grow out and never bothered doing anything with it after. Go ahead and judge, but I like a touch of the untamed hippie flower child look when it saves me visits to the salon.

  Still...there’s more than a slight similarity between me and that girl. And if she didn’t even ping his armor when she was trying so hard?

  A snowball on the devil’s skillet has a better chance than I do, just being part of his fringe environment, trying to stay out of his way.

  But my lunch break’s over and at least I’m no longer worried about spooking a skunk with a built-in stink bomb. So with one more playful nudge for Pam, I get up to toss my sandwich bag away and reclaim my lab coat – only to freeze as the bell over the door jingles.

  My ears burn when I hear my name echoing across the reception room in a familiar melodramatically sing-song voice.

  “I’m heeere, Ember darling!”

  Oh, no.

  Oh, God.

  Mom.

  And just like usual, she’s making her entrance like Liza stinking Minnelli.

  That’s the problem when your dad was a music teacher, and your mom’s a former Broadway performer, and even after retiring, it’s still a one-way ticket to cringe-ville.

  She’s always got to put on a show. Old habits and something about dying hard.

  I just know I’ve got to intercept her before she runs into Doc and turns that show into a sideshow.

  If I can just make myself go out there when I’m still locked up in a paralyzed, stiff knot with my fingers clenching against my sweaty palms and my heart thumping far too hard.

  Pam arches a brow, eyeing me skeptically. “I take it you’ve got yourself a visitor?”

  I wince. “Considering she gave birth to me, yeah.”

  “Aw, don’t like your Ma?”

  “I love her,” I offer with a wan smile. “Liking her? Kinda comes and goes.”

  “September Delwen? I know you’re here,” echoes louder from the reception area.

  Shoot me.

  I don’t even have to look to know everyone in the waiting room is probably staring, gawking at my mother, and
she’s probably enjoying it. She loves having an audience, even when that audience is wondering if she needs to be committed. “I saw that horrible trash car of yours out in the parking lot. Don’t make me come looking.”

  “I’m back here, Mom,” I call reluctantly, leaning out the break room door, beckoning to her quickly. Thankfully, Doc seems to have gone to ground with that finely-honed sense for danger, nowhere in sight. “Come here. And lower your voice, please. You’ll spook the animals.”

  Her broad, fiendish grin says she might actually enjoy the scene she’d create – barking and yowling everywhere, hissing, fur puffing, and feathers flying all over the place.

  I won’t lie.

  It’s creepy seeing a face that looks so much like my own, lit up with such devilishly wicked glee.

  Felicity’s words come back to me, and I think this apple didn’t just fall far from the tree. I think it ran right away from it.

  Mom comes sauntering over to me with exaggerated prancing steps, her blue eyes bright, and spreads her arms. “Ember, daaahling. Give your mother a hug.”

  Groaning, I let her sweep me up into a tight hug, and bury my face against her shoulder, hugging her back.

  I do love her.

  She exhausts me, and sometimes we just don’t get each other because we’re so different. That’s another thing that makes it so hard with Dad gone. He was like me – quiet, soft-spoken, restrained.

  But he understood Mom. He complemented her perfectly, and even brought the odd tear to her eye when he’d curl up with her and his guitar. They loved each other so much, real storybook stuff.

  He was love, and he was our translator and intermediary. The glue that made us work, helped us bond together.

  Without him, it’s hardly the same. Mom and I are more like cats and dogs trying to communicate without knowing each other’s language.

  We don’t mean each other any harm, but we tend to accidentally hurt each other anyway.

  “Hi, Mom,” I mumble against her shoulder. “What a surprise. What’re you doing here?”

  “A girl can’t surprise her one and only best daughter?”

  “Um, a little hard not to be your best daughter when I’m the only kid you have.”

  “Ember.” She pulls back, gripping me by the shoulders, staring with a warm smile that only half masks her honest and genuine concern. “I was worried about you here. That’s all.”

  I smile up at her. “I know you were. But I promise there’s no reason to be. This place is so small they only have a few cops. Nothing’s going to happen to me here.”

  “Things happen to vulnerable young ladies everywhere, young lady, and I don’t like the idea that there are barely any officers around to handle it if something does.” She clucks her tongue, then takes a look around.

  Sigh. I can feel Pam watching discreetly from the break room with a sort of good-natured yet entirely carnivorous interest. I just know my mother’s going to be the talk of the local diner and primary gossip spot by evening. “So. This is where you work? It smells like dog.”

  “It’s a vet’s office.” I can’t help a tired laugh. “I like the smell, honestly. Warm, clean fur, and happy animals.”

  “Well, if it’s what you like, dear.” But she’s already distracted, craning to peer out into the waiting area. “And where’s this big bossman of yours, hmmm?”

  “Probably off doing his job. Which I should be, too, if I want to keep mine.” I plaster on my best no-nonsense smile. “I love you, Mom, but really. I was supposed to be back on duty five minutes ago and there are patients waiting to be see—”

  I realize my mother has stopped listening the second the door swings open from the back and the main exam room.

  Doc comes striding out with his cell phone pressed tight to his ear, his face set in those forbidding, fierce lines that make him look so formidable and just a little thrillingly dangerous.

  Holy hell.

  He never gets obviously angry, but there’s a shift that comes over him that makes him vibrate with a dark and masculine energy, seeming to fill the room with his presence and make everyone aware of just how imposing, how strong, how tall this quiet animal doctor and his silently lethal presence truly are.

  Every woman in the room perks up in more ways than one. You’d think the temperature had just dropped fifteen degrees, judging by certain tight t-shirts.

  My mother’s no different, watching this green-eyed slinking serpent of a man with her own eyes wide and her chest heaving, a hand fluttering to her throat and her cheeks turning pink. I’d be horrified seeing my mother this way if I didn’t know a good half of it was a stage act she doesn’t know how to turn off.

  The fluttering coquette. The damsel in distress. The tease.

  But most of all, just the woman who loves being adored by men.

  “Oh my,” she breathes. “That’s Mr. Bossypants?”

  “In the flesh,” I say dryly, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my lab coat.

  It’s excruciating. I wonder if I looked that thunderstruck the first time I met him. But Mom’s actually doing me a favor right now because my fond disgust with her is helping keep my own racing pulse under control, helping stop me from turning into the blushing, silent wreck I usually am around him.

  But I should’ve been more on alert, I suppose, because I don’t get a second to step forward and run interference. Because just as Doc hangs up his phone and slips it into his pocket, my mother thrusts herself into his path.

  Uh-oh.

  He looks preoccupied, stormy, focused, but that doesn’t stop her from bustling forward with her best smile and her hand outstretched.

  “Hi,” she says. “You must be–”

  “Leaving,” he says curtly, without even looking at her outstretched hand. “I’m sorry, you’ll need to see my assistant for the moment.”

  My mother lets out a sweet little falsetto laugh. “Oh, darling, no. I’m not one of your lovely customers. You don’t see the resemblance? We could be sisters, you know.”

  Next thing I know my mother’s arm is around my shoulders and she’s dragging me over to hug against her side and...I think I might just die.

  Sisters?

  Right.

  Closing my eyes, I rub my eyelids, then take a deep breath. Might as well get this over with before I find out if Doc really can lose his temper.

  “Doc, sorry. Mom, Dr. Caldwell, my boss—” I stress, hoping she’ll behave herself, “—and Doc, this is my mom. Barbara Delwen.”

  That makes Doc draw up short. His gaze flicks between us, completely unreadable, before he nods a bit less abruptly.

  “Ms. Delwen,” he says, cool and smooth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and while Ember has been doing a wonderful job here at The Menagerie, I’m afraid I truly can’t stay to exchange pleasantries. Something’s come up. Very important.” His gaze flicks to me over my mother’s head. “Please take the next appointment, Ember. I’ll return before closing.”

  I blink. My throat tightens a smidge. I can’t help but be worried that something’s seriously wrong, but I know he’ll just shut me out if I even try to ask.

  God. I shouldn’t want to find out; this isn’t my business.

  I bite my lip, then nod. “O-okay. I’m on it.”

  “Thanks,” he bites off crisply, and then he actually bows, though briefly and hurried. “Ms. Delwen. Miss Delwen.”

  Then he’s gone, sweeping from the room in that way he has that seems to burn an imprint of his presence behind, leaving even the animals silent in his wake.

  My mother stares after him as the front door swings shut and he vanishes into his truck, barely visible through the glass.

  “Well,” she says. “That was odd.”

  “He’s like that. You get used to it.” Tucking my hair back, I eye her harshly. “Seriously, Mom, what are you doing here?”

  My mother tears herself from watching the door and turns her smile on me once more. “Stop being so suspicious, darling. I was on m
y way to Missoula for a weekend with your Auntie Trish.”

  Palm, meet face. That won’t end well. My mother’s other sister, the staunchly single Patricia, gets on with my mother less like a house on fire and more like one ready to collapse.

  Maybe it was best Mom took a detour to Heart’s Edge.

  But that feeling dries up into nothing but grim dread as her smile widens.

  “But. Well.” Matter-of-fact, but ever-so-sweetly insistent. “Now that I’ve seen the local scenery, I might just stick around a while longer. Take in the sights. Maybe meet someone. You wouldn’t mind letting me stay a while...would you, Ember?”

  I groan.

  She has all the subtly of a rodeo clown. I know what she really means.

  She’s asking if I wouldn’t mind a little competition.

  I’ve already told myself I’m so not in the running for Doc’s attentions. And yet...

  The notion of my mother swooping in on him leaves me unsettled, uncomfortable. I don’t have a right to be possessive.

  I don’t have a right to anything.

  But even as I mumble something agreeable to my mother, anything to get her out the door so I can get back to work where I belong, a stroke of pure insanity crosses my mind.

  I can’t help the resentful, rebellious thought of but he’s mine.

  8

  Wool of Bat, Tongue of Dog (Doc)

  I can’t believe she’s forced my hand like this.

  Arranging a public meeting with Nine. In broad daylight. In the middle of downtown Heart’s Edge.

  Fuck.

  Not only can I not believe she’s forced my hand like this, but I can’t believe Nine would go along with it. Not when he’d likely be arrested on sight or worse.

  It’s probably a goddamn bluff, but it’s a risk I can’t take.

  So here I am, pulling up outside the ARCO that’s the only game in town when it comes to gas and easy convenience store shopping. Her jet-black SUV is parked in front of the pumps.

  With the blackout windows rolled up, I can’t tell if she drove it herself or if she has a driver with her once again.

  But I can tell she’s faking filling up the tank, when I doubt she’d ever condescend to get her hands dirty or risk her manicure.