Opposites Attract: His Country Doctor (The Journal of Medical Romances Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

  A smile tugged at my lips, but it didn’t get very far. I glanced down at our hands, noting how mine clung to his. I hadn’t noticed that I’d tightened my grip, but I was squeezing him as if he would jump up and run away if he knew my secret—if he knew what a failure I truly was.

  Something strange happened inside of me. Maybe it was the heavy humidity that wrapped around me like a warm, soothing blanket. Or maybe it was having someone who was attentive and listening, who even sounded like they cared for me—ready to take whatever I laid before him. Or maybe it was the sense that we were the only two people in the world and no matter what I said, it would stay between us forever—but I suddenly wanted to reveal my worst. I wanted to see if Andrew would run away when he found out I had a defect.

  “I’ve wanted to be an orthopedic surgeon—ever since I was that five-year-old girl. I designed my whole life around doing just that. Every class I took every book I read, every camp, every activity, all of it pointed me toward realizing my dream,” I whispered, realizing how big that sky was and how small my life seemed.

  I paused—wondering what Andrew was thinking. When I turned to look, he was watching me, his face smooth and free of judgment but full of that interest I’d seen in him earlier. He lifted our hands a little as if saying, Go on.

  I looked back up at the sky, feeling it easier to talk to a star far away than the man who offered me a listening ear. “I was in my last year of med school and was applying for ortho residencies when I started having these episodes where I would just pass out. If I stood for too long in one place or got overheated, my heart raced and I would lose consciousness. While I was out, it would feel like I was in a fog or a dream or something. Apparently, I would be out for a minute or two, and then I would wake up. It was mortifying. I couldn’t get through a full surgery.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Since a racing heart always preceded the episodes, I went and saw cardiology, who diagnosed me with POTS, or postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. My blood pressure drops due to autonomic nervous system dysfunction, which triggers my heart to speed up to increase my blood pressure.”

  I tucked my free hand into my pocket and wrapped my hand around my house key. It was hard against my palm, yet it reminded me that I had a place of my own. That I’d made it through this tumultuous part of my life and landed on my feet. “They can’t fix my heart, and that made surgery impossible—it flares up every one of my triggers. The gown, cap, and mask alone raise my core temperature, my veins dilate, and away my heart goes. I tried to ignore it at first, but then I passed out in the OR during one of my rotations and smacked my head on a surgical instrument table. When that happened, that was it. I was done. No one could tell a patient that their surgery took an extra half hour because their doctor passed out.” I felt the sting of shameful tears—following right behind them would be the regretful tears, and then the grief tears for having lost my dream.

  Andrew wiped a tear off my cheek. “How did you end up here?”

  I took a deep breath, stopping the rush of everything life had thrown at me. I’d cried enough over the last couple of years. I wanted to move on, but that little girl inside held fast to her dream and refused to let go. “I’d planned on working on bones my whole life, so when it got taken away, I didn’t know what else to do. I had to decide quickly, because the residency deadlines were coming up, so I chose family practice. And I like it, I do, but I just feel like …. I failed or came up short.”

  “You can’t help that your heart has a problem, Harper.” Andrew gently nudged me with his arm. “Everything happens for a reason.”

  I tilted my head. “What did you say?”

  “I said everything happens for a reason.”

  “That is what my mom says,” I whispered. A brush of something went across my arms and raised goose bumps. I wish I could have said it was a breeze, but there wasn’t one. No, this was a feeling of confirmation, like my mom had planted a seed and Andrew had just shown me the start of the plant from that seed. It existed. And there was a reason I hadn’t become what I’d always wanted to be.

  I just couldn’t see the reason behind it all. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  “Well, she’s right,” he said. He rubbed his chin, his eyes moving quickly as if his thoughts traveled too fast to follow. “But at the same time …” He paused as if gathering courage, or maybe trying to catch the caboose that would tell him how to pull this all together. “Grandpa always told me that if you want something, think your way around the problem. So maybe you can’t be a surgeon, but is there something else you could do that’s similar to ortho? Like sports medicine or something where you treat similar injuries, just in a different way?”

  Now my eyes were moving across the stars, trying to keep up with his thoughts. “A different way …?” I searched through the last two years. Once surgery was out of the question, I hadn’t looked any further into the field of orthopedics. I’d been too devastated to take up my usual thorough approach to life and leapt onto the safest path. “To be honest, I never looked at it that way.” I was looking at it now. There could be another option. Sports medicine was an in-demand field, and there were opportunities to advance quickly if you knew your stuff.

  After a bit of comfortable silence, I rolled my head to the side. “Thank you for listening, Andrew. I have never told anyone about that before.”

  “No problem. It’s good to get those feelings off of your chest.” He reached out and brushed his fingers over my cheek.

  Astrid jumped up and woofed at something in the yard. I scrambled for the end of her leash. Next time, I’m leaving you inside.

  “I think someone is telling us she is ready to go inside.” Andrew pushed up on his elbow.

  “You’re probably right.” I did my best to keep my reluctance out of my voice. I could have stayed out there all night long, looking at the stars and talking. “And I have to work tomorrow, so I’d better get some sleep.”

  Andrew gently helped me out of the truck, his hands lingering on my sides before he walked me to the door. “Can I call you sometime?” he ventured.

  “I would really like that.”

  He ran his hand down my arm, then my hand, then my fingers. “Happy 4th of July, Doc.”

  “Happy 4th of July, Andrew.”

  Astrid whined and scratched at the door.

  “All right.” I opened the door and slid inside, leaning against it and sighing. The 4th of July was officially my new favorite holiday.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Andrew

  The next morning, I woke up before my alarm and the world was different. My room seemed bigger. The predawn glow on the horizon was prettier than I remembered. Even my blankets felt softer against my skin.

  And it was all because of Dr. Cahill—no, Harper.

  I tucked my hands behind my head and replayed our evening together. Lying next to her in the bed of my truck and watching the stars had been comfortable, natural, yet … thrilling. She’d felt perfect in my arms during the fireworks display. Even though the sky was full of lights, it was her smile that had lit up my night.

  I had to see her again.

  My body was in complete agreement with my head—which was a first for 5 a.m. The need to talk to Harper, to hear her melodic voice roll over words like they were hot rolls with lots of butter, itched at me. I flung off the covers and dressed quickly.

  Grandpa was at the kitchen table, like he was every morning, the newspaper crinkling in his giant hands.

  “Good morning, Grandpa,” I said, my voice made chipper by the prospect of seeing Harper today. I had no idea how that was going to happen with all I had to do on the farm and her working at the clinic, but where there was a will, there was a way. And boy, did I ever have a strong will today.

  “Good morning to you too.” Grandpa peered over his newspaper and watched me walk over to the fridge. He didn’t usually look up from his news, so he must have caught something in my tone that caused him concer
n.

  Or maybe he’d gotten a call from Grandpa Christiansen about me switching to first base coach and the pretty first baseman behind my sudden change.

  The idea of confessing the feelings rumbling around inside of me to my Grandpa—a mountain of a man who could get kicked by a horse and not curse in pain—had me ducking my head into the refrigerator. Grandpa had given me a lecture about finding a woman and starting a family before it was too late, but that didn’t mean the old man wanted to hear me croon on and on about Harper’s long, pretty hair or her luminous eyes.

  Man, she was beautiful.

  “What are you doing up so early?”

  Was that laughter in Grandpa’s voice? It wasn’t like I was one to sleep in, but I’d rather work late than get up.

  “Not much,” I replied, trying to keep it cool. I didn’t want Grandpa thinking I was making a play for his doctor. That would make both of us uncomfortable. I set the milk on the counter and grabbed a cup, frowning into it as I debated the pros and cons of bringing up my half date with Harper.

  Grandpa would probably tell me to leave her alone—she had important work to do around here. His generation put doctors on a pedestal, for good reason, as they were super smart, had a lot of schooling, and did tasks regular mortals wouldn’t attempt. Like brain surgery. He wouldn’t understand how I could see Dr. Cahill as more than a white coat and stethoscope.

  But she was so much more. She was a woman who cared about people. Someone who could laugh at herself. Someone who cheered others on.

  And she was totally kissable.

  Aunt Meredith bustled in, effectively cutting off all thoughts of kissing. “Good morning, Andrew,” she said. She lifted an eyebrow. “Did you have a good night?” I wasn’t sure how she knew I’d spent the evening with Harper, but there was no mistaking the knowing look in her eye.

  Darn it. I’d parked away from the rest of town—on purpose. Of course, nothing went without notice in this small town. Someone would have seen the two of us walking toward my truck—or even driving away together.

  I shot her a warning look as she poured herself a cup of tea. Grandpa must have put the kettle on her for her. That was a good sign.

  “It was fine,” I said flatly. “My team won the tournament.” That was always something to brag about, and any extra happiness in my voice could be attributed to that. We’d walked away with the winners’ tee shirts. Mine was hanging in my closet, saved for a special day. The winners would wear them with pride to city functions all year long. I couldn’t wait until the Harvest Festival.

  “How were the fireworks?” She sipped her tea, looking at me over the rim.

  “They were great, thanks for asking,” I said through gritted teeth.

  She giggled behind her cup.

  “For heaven’s sake, Meredith, stop badgering the man and let him get to work.” Grandpa snapped the newspaper pages.

  “Is there anything you guys need my help with today?” I asked, trying to change the subject and get Grandpa into a good mood. He’d put the tea on, but he might have overdone it in the process.

  Grandpa sighed and let the paper fall to the table. “I saw Rick out in the barn last night.” He folded his hands together. “He told me he was having a hard time with the mower on the east ridge. I think you need to go take a look at it. Every time he starts trying to monkey with that thing, it costs me a thousand dollars.”

  Rick had come to town about six months ago looking for work. He had a big heart—too big. Someone had swindled him out of his savings, and he’d lost his excavating company. Grandpa had been in a bad way six months ago and needed more hands, so he’d hired him on the spot. It turned out to be a good thing all around. We divided up most of the tasks and communicated through texts. I liked that I didn’t have to watch over his shoulder to make sure things got done. In fact, I hardly saw him, but I knew he’d do his share and then some.

  “I’ll stop there first thing,” I answered, relieved for an excuse to get out of the house. Meredith would tease me all day if I stayed. What was it with women and dating? They stuck their noses as far in as they would go and wanted every little detail. Well, I wasn’t ready to share even a moment of my evening with Harper with someone else. Heck, I’d had a hard enough time sharing with Astrid, who seemed determined to keep me from kissing her owner.

  I grabbed my ball cap and headed for the door. I stopped to put on my boots.

  “Wait!” Aunt Meredith called as she hurried out of the kitchen holding something in her hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you off before you had a chance to eat. Take this.” She shoved a breakfast burrito into my hand. “You have to take care of yourself Andrew, you know, until there's someone else around to do it.” She winked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Thank you for the food, but I’m fine taking care of myself.” I’d lived ten years on my own and hadn’t lost a pound but gained muscle. A dopey grin pulled at my cheeks. I’d noticed Harper noticing those muscles a time or two yesterday. Yes, sir, I’d done a fine job taking care of myself.

  “Oh? What are your plans for lunch?”

  My mind blanked. “Uh …”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “There’s a sack lunch and a water bottle on the entry table. I set them out last night when you didn’t come home before I got to bed. Don’t forget to take them with you.” She went back to the kitchen to make Grandpa's oatmeal and reminded him to check his blood sugar before he ate.

  Surprisingly, Grandpa took out his glucometer, test strip, and lancet, and actually pricked his finger without argument. Things really were changing around here.

  I reached for the lunch bag and flashed back to the countless times I’d done the same exact thing since living here. I glanced down at my stomach. Maybe Aunt Meredith deserved a little more credit for keeping me healthy than I’d dished out. “Thank you!” I called.

  “You’re welcome,” she answered.

  I’d do better in the future.

  I walked out to my blue Ford and climbed inside. It smelled like dust, old leather, and then suddenly the scent of fresh rain. I sniffed, reaching for the scent of her again, trying to weed it out from the others, but it was gone. Disappointed, I turned the key, and the old engine revved to life.

  It didn’t take long to make my way over to the equipment barn. It was set farther away from the house than the horse barn. I liked the layout and planned to do the same thing at my place. Being close to the animals allowed for easy feeding, and I could keep an eye on their health even when we weren’t riding. Having the equipment barn farther away also made sense in that it kept the noise and dust down around the house.

  I turned off the truck and took advantage of the quiet few minutes and reached for my phone to text Harper. I just wanted to say good morning. She’d be up, probably getting ready to leave for work. The clinic didn’t open until 8:30 a.m., but Astrid would need a walk. Maybe I’d catch her out and about and she’d have a second to talk.

  My thumb paused over the screen when all of a sudden I got this sick feeling inside. I hadn’t asked for her phone number. How could I text, call, or ask her on a date when I didn’t even have a way to get a hold of her? Of all of the harebrained mistakes … I felt so stupid. I’d asked if I could call her sometime—she’d even said yes—and then I didn’t follow up and actually put her number in my phone.

  Man! I took off my ball cap and threw it on the dash. She must think I’m a complete idiot. Growling at myself and my stupidity, I yanked open the truck door and threw myself out. “See? The barn’s right where I left it. It’s a good thing I didn’t have to call to find out where it was.”

  It was a good thing I hadn’t told Grandpa about my night. If he found out what I’d done, the teasing would continue for years on end.

  Thinking of Grandpa brought to mind the advice I’d shared with Harper about thinking your way around a problem. There had to be another way to get a hold of Harper. She was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. People had to talk to her. I could just call
the clinic.

  I found the number and dialed, getting a recording that gave me options—none of them actually talking to Harper. I hung up before the beep to leave a message.

  I leaned against the fender and called back. I pressed the number to speak to the receptionist. The receptionist answered, and I gave my name and asked to speak to Dr. Cahill.

  “She’s busy at the moment. Can I take a message?”

  “Uh …” I stalled. I was positive I couldn’t say what I wanted to say to Harper in a message. “It’s a personal matter.”

  “I’ll still need to take a message. She’s with a patient.”

  I gritted my teeth. She wasn’t going to let me through. “I don’t suppose you could give me her cell number?”

  “We’re not allowed to give out the doctors’ contact information.”

  “Of course not.” I bounced my free fist against the side of the truck, trying to figure out how to get past the gatekeeper.

  “I can get you an appointment for this afternoon. She has an opening at 4:40.”

  An appointment was perfect. I could get her phone number and ask her out in person. “That works for me.”

  I thought we were done, and was about to hang up, when she asked, “And what are we seeing you for today?”

  “Um …” I had to think fast. I couldn’t very well say, I want to ask Dr. Cahill on a date. My throat tightened in panic. “A sore throat,” I blurted, going with the first physical symptom I felt.

  “All right,” she replied. “I have you down for an appointment today with Dr. Cahill at 4:40 p.m. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “Nope, that will be perfect,” I said, smiling at the phone. “Thanks for all of your help.” I hung up, feeling much better about the day. Thankfully, the late appointment time would give me plenty of time to get the mower up and running. I might even be able to tackle the rest of the east ridge before going into town.

  Now, I just had to figure out what we were going to do on our date. It wasn’t like there was a lot to do in this one-horse town, so I’d have to be creative. Mowing time was thinking time, and I couldn’t get to the mowing until I got to work on the tractor.