Joy took Sarah’s hands, feeling the frailness of her bones. It would take a lot of work to allay the real fears that stalked this otherwise rational, intelligent twenty-four-year-old. “What you have is a freckle.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “But it’s right there on the end of my nose, where the sun hits it.”
“The way you slather yourself with sun block, and at your age, I don’t think you’ll have a problem with melanoma. I can biopsy the spot if you’re horribly worried about it, but we don’t want an unnecessary scar to mess up that flawless complexion.”
Sarah’s gamine features scrunched. “Am I being a hypochondriac again?”
“Not at all. There’s a problem, and you need treatment, but—”
The phone on the desk buzzed, and Lindsey’s voice came over the intercom. “Dr. Gilbert, there’s a call for you. Sounds urgent. It’s a Dr. Zachary Travis from—”
“Take a message, please.” Joy said the words before the name registered, and she struggled mightily to maintain a professional demeanor in the presence of her patient. Oxygen refused to enter her lungs for a brief moment. Zack? Why would he be calling here? And now, after all this time?
“But he says it’s important,” Lindsay continued. “It’s an emergency and I’ve got him on hold.”
Joy snatched up the receiver with one hand while holding up a finger for Sarah—a silent apology. “Lindsay, remember when we discussed this a couple of weeks ago? Unless the building’s on fire, all calls can wait.” But everything within her wanted to take the call. Zack hadn’t contacted her since breaking the engagement. Why now? “Take a message, please.”
She disconnected and selected a preprinted sheet from a rack of brochures on the wall, then turned back to Sarah. “I’ve spoken about your situation with a colleague of mine, who is a trusted friend. I’ve not given her your name. I won’t do that without your permission.”
Sarah’s face reddened. “You’re not going to see me anymore.”
“Yes I am. As I said, all your physical findings are normal.” Joy gave her patient a tender smile. “That doesn’t rule out a concern I have for you. Dr. Myra Maxwell and I attended the same medical school, and then she continued her education in psychiatry.”
Those soft eyes, which had held trust for Joy after their first encounter, filled instead with hurt confusion.
Joy slid the brochure into Sarah’s hands. “She and I both feel she can help you, and she’s the best.”
The flush on Sarah’s face lightened a little as she studied the glossy tri-fold that exhibited Myra Maxwell’s picture. Straight, black hair and the tanned olive tones of her skin showed a Cherokee heritage. Joy recalled the day they’d both gone to have professional photos taken. Nothing Joy did would bring a smile to Myra’s face so soon after the tragedy.
There was an infinitesimal slump of Sarah’s shoulders. Silence.
Joy scooted to the periphery of her patient’s personal space, took in the clenched fingers, the wobbling chin. “Sarah, I found out what happened to you. Because of that, your mind can better cope with physical disorders than with the memories.”
For a moment, the only sounds in the exam room were the buzz of the wall clock and the muted rainfall on the roof of the building. The murmur of voices from the outer office filtered through the closed door. Joy watched the delicate rise in the center of Sarah’s throat, strong emotions trying to fight their way out.
“How do you know about that?” Sarah’s voice barely rose above the patter of raindrops.
“Research. I went to the Corrigan Times and found the front-page story about the attack on you and your husband.”
A glimmer of moisture threatened tears. The pale blonde brows drew together. The lines of Sarah’s face scrunched like a child’s.
“Sarah, you experienced a living nightmare.”
The slender shoulders jerked in a single, powerful spasm, eyes squeezed shut tightly, hands grasping the chair arms. “I can’t do this.”
“You can’t continue as you have. You’re not dealing with the original injury, so you will persist in having physical manifestations of—”
Sarah jumped up. “I can’t, Dr. Gilbert. I’m sorry.” She grabbed her purse, pulled open the door, and nearly collided with Weston. The brochure floated to his feet.
Joy followed her out. “Sarah, please.”
But the patient kept going. When Joy tried to follow, Weston blocked her. “You’re not her mother, Dr. Gilbert.”
Something cracked inside her. She gritted her teeth, knowing that if she spoke her mind at this moment she would most certainly lose her job.
He leaned close enough that his mouth was within inches of her ear. “You have paying patients waiting for weeks to get an appointment with you. If you continue your present practice of medicine, there will soon be no clinic to treat anyone.”
Joy stepped away from him and met his gaze. “We both know how much money this place brings in.” She whispered the words for his ears only.
His lids fluttered down for an instant, then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Silence filled the hallway around them. “You’re forgetting who owns this place that pays your generous salary.”
He was right, and she knew it. Time to tread carefully. She ducked beneath his arm and headed to her office, but she heard the sound of his footsteps as he followed her. This discussion wasn’t over.
About the Author
Hannah Alexander is the pen name of a husband-wife writing team, and is the author of thirty-five inspirational novels, novellas and short stories of romance, women’s fiction, suspense and medical drama with a dose of subtle humor. All are set in homey small towns. Thank you so much for taking time to read this novel. If you enjoyed it, Hannah Alexander would very much appreciate a review from you on the site where you purchased it, Goodreads, or other book review sites you enjoy. Reviews are key to future sales, and sales are key to future novels.
Read more about their work and sample chapters at www.HannahAlexander.com
E-book available novels by Hannah Alexander:
Hallowed Halls Series:
Hallowed Halls
Dandelion Moon
A Local Lady
A Lot of Class
The Healing Touch Series:
Second Opinion
Necessary Measures
Urgent Care
Single Titles:
Hidden Motive (contemporary romantic suspense)
The Wedding Kiss (historical romantic suspense)
Copyright 2019 by Hannah Alexander
Published by Hannah Alexander Books
PO Box 1525
Rawlins WY 82301
Cover Created and book formatted by Angela Hunt.
Edited by Joy Sanders, Miralee Ferrell, Mel Hodde, Cheryl Hodde.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without the prior written consent of the publisher.
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