“Did you have any time to put ice on it?”
“A few minutes. Which is the main reason I’m late.”
“Good. That’s the best thing you can do.”
They lapsed into silence and she tried to keep from gawking at him. She loved her job, working with Wendell Sanderson. The man had been nothing but kind to her since the day she came back to Cannon Beach. She hated thinking things would be awkward and uncomfortable with Eli here.
She could handle anything for a few weeks, Melissa reminded herself. Even working for a man for whom she had developed a serious thirst.
“Can you give me the charts of those who have appointments today? I’d like to try familiarizing myself with their files.”
His words were directed to Carmen yet still provided Melissa the reminder she needed. He was her boss and she couldn’t forget that.
“I’ve already pulled the charts of those coming in this morning. They’re on your dad’s desk, since I figured you would be setting up in there,” the office manager replied. “I’ll find the rest and bring them in for you.”
“Thank you.” He gave the woman a polite smile, and Melissa could swear she felt her ovaries melt.
When he walked back down the hallway toward his office, Melissa slumped into one of the chairs in the waiting room.
Oh, this was not good. At all. She might have silently wished for a man this morning, but in truth she didn’t have time for that kind of complication. She had Skye and work and friends, not to mention the online classes she was taking to work toward her nurse practitioner license. There was no room left for her to be stupid about Eli.
“Are you okay?” Carmen asked.
“I will be.”
Eventually.
“He seems nice, doesn’t he?” Tiffany said. “Dr. Sanderson talks about his son like all the time, but I always pictured him different, somehow. Since he’s in the army, I thought he’d have a buzz cut and be all harsh and by the book.”
She hadn’t pictured him at all, hadn’t really given Eli Sanderson much thought over the years. Now she was afraid she would be able to think about little else.
Even her throbbing wrist couldn’t seem to distract her.
* * *
“How did your first day go? Any problems or unique diagnoses you think I need to know about?”
Eli adjusted his dad’s pillow, giving him a stern look. “Your only job right now is to focus on healing from this surgery. I can take care of your patients, got it? You don’t need to worry about them.”
“I have no concerns on that front,” Wendell assured him. “You’re a better doctor than I ever could have dreamed of being at your age.”
Eli knew that was far from true. How could it be? His own dreams were haunted by the ghosts of all those he couldn’t save. Miri. Justine. Those ghosts at least had names and faces, but there were scores of others who drifted through, anonymous and lost.
He let out a breath, wondering when the hell the sense of guilt and loss would leave him. It had been six months but still felt like yesterday.
He turned his attention back to his father, instead of that war-battered market town.
“Dad, I could never be half the doctor you are. We both know that. I’ll be trying my whole life to catch up.”
His father rolled his eyes. “We could be here all day patting each other on the back, but I know what I know. And what I know is that you’re a damn fine doctor and I’m proud to call you my son. There’s no one else on earth I would trust more than you to fill in for me while I’m laid up. When I ask about my patients, it’s only because I’m concerned about them, not because I don’t think you can care for them the way I would.”
His father had been the best doctor Eli knew. Wendell and his genuine concern for his patients had been the main reason Eli had gone to medical school in the first place. He had wanted to help people, to deliver babies and diagnose illnesses and give little kids their first shots.
He had never expected that his first years of practicing medicine would be in a series of emergency shelters and refugee camps, but that was the path he had chosen and he couldn’t regret it.
“If I’m not mistaken, that sweet Julia Garrett was supposed to come in today for a prenatal checkup. She and Will had an early-term miscarriage during her last pregnancy, so I’ve been watching her closely. How did things look today?”
Though he instinctively wanted to tell his father to put all his patients out of his head, Eli knew that wouldn’t happen. Wendell wanted to stay current on all the people he had cared for over thirty-five years of practicing in Cannon Beach. Eli had a feeling that was the only way his father would be able to endure the long recovery from his double knee replacement.
“Everything looked good today. The baby measured exactly where she should be at this stage in the pregnancy, the heartbeat sounded strong and steady, and Julia appears healthy and happy. She didn’t report any unusual concerns.”
“Oh, that’s good. This is her fourth pregnancy—fifth, if you count the baby they lost and sixth if you count the fact that her first were twins—and I wanted her to feel confident and comfortable.”
As far as Eli was concerned, his father was the iconic family physician. Wendell was dedicated to his patients, compassionate over their troubles and driven to provide them the best possible care. He had delivered some of his own patients—like Will Garrett—and was now delivering the second generation and providing care over their children.
Those patients had saved his father, plucking him out of the deep depression Wendell had fallen into after Eli’s mother died following a short but hard-fought battle against breast cancer when Eli was twelve.
They had both been devastated and had dealt with the blow in different ways. Eli had retreated into books, withdrawing from his friends, from baseball, from social activities. His father had done the same, focusing only on his patients and on his son.
The pain of losing Ada Sanderson had eased over the years but hadn’t left completely. Eli suspected it never would.
“And how are you, son? I mean, how are you really. You haven’t talked about what happened with that friend of yours, but I know it still eats at you.”
The question, so intuitive, seemed to knock his own knees out from under him. It had always seemed impossible to conceal his inner struggles from his father’s gimlet gaze. Still, Eli did his best. He had never told Wendell how close he had been to Justine, or how her death and Miri’s had been his fault.
Somehow he managed to summon an expression he hoped resembled a smile. “I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a beautiful time of year to be home in Oregon. I don’t remember the last April I was here. I’m not sure what I’m looking forward to more, watching the spring storms churning across the water or savoring the explosion of flowers.”
Wendell saw right through him, as usual. His father gave him a searching look even as he shifted on his hospital bed to find a more comfortable position.
“After all the exotic places the army has sent you, are you sure you won’t be bored out of your mind treating cold sores and high blood pressure?”
“No. I’m looking forward to that, too, if you want the truth. It will be a nice, calm change of pace. Just what I need to decompress.”
“Maybe this will help you figure out whether you’re going to stay in the military or settle down somewhere and open a practice. Or maybe join a practice that’s already busy with tourists and locals alike.”
Since the day Eli finished his residency, Wendell had been after him to become his partner here.
It had always been in his long-range plan, but how could he walk away now, with this heavy sense of responsibility he carried everywhere? He felt the weight of it even more on his shoulders now, after what happened to Justine. She had been dedicated, compassionate, completely driven to help those in turmoil. Her dedication had been silenced forever and she could no longer carry out her work. He had made a vow to carry on in her place.
“Not all of them. A few of these nurses have been coming to my office since they were children. I’m afraid they know all my tricks by now.”
Wendell was regaling him with a story about the surgeon who had operated on him when Eli heard a slight knock on the door.
A moment later, it was pushed open and a delicate-looking girl of about seven held the door open while cradling a huge cellophane-wrapped basket in the other.
“Hi, Dr. Sanderson,” she said cheerfully, giving his father a winsome smile.
Wendell beamed back at her. “Well, hello there, my dear. Isn’t this a lovely surprise?”
She gave a grin, missing her two front teeth, and held up the basket. “This is for you. My mom was busy talking to her friend at the nurses station and I got tired of waiting for her, so I told her I would come by myself. This thing is heavy.”
“Eli, help my friend Skye out and take that big basket from her before her arms break right off, will you?”
He dutifully rose so he could take the basket out of the girl’s arms and set it on the small table next to his father’s bed.
While he was occupied, the girl stole his chair, the one right next to Wendell’s bedside.
“That stuff is all for you” she said, pointing to the basket. “Even the candy. My mom and I went shopping in three different stores, trying to find all the things you love.”
“That is so sweet of you. Your mother is a treasure and so are you, my dear.”
She giggled. “My grandma says I’m a pill and too big for my britches.”
“I don’t doubt that’s true,” Wendell said.
The girl turned to Eli with a curious look. “Hi,” she said brightly. “I’m Skye Fielding. What’s your name?”
When she identified herself, he gave her a closer look. Skye Fielding. This had to be Melissa’s daughter. He should have picked up the resemblance before she even identified herself. Now he could see she shared the same vivid green eyes with her mother and the same dimple that appeared and disappeared on one side of her mouth.
“This is my son, Elias Alexander Sanderson.”
“Whoa. That’s a big name. It’s…” She counted on her small fingers. “Ten syllables.”
Yes. He was fully aware. Try filling out all those letters on military forms designed for guys named Joe Smith. “You can call me Eli,” he said.
“Hi, Eli.” She settled deeper into his chair, perfectly at home, which he found more amusing than anything he’d seen in a long time. With nowhere else to sit in the room, he leaned against the sink.
“Mom says you got brand-new knees because your old ones hurt you all the time,” she said.
“Old is the key word there,” Wendell muttered.
His father wasn’t that old. He was only in his early sixties and vibrant for his age. Why hadn’t Wendell started dating and married someone? His father was still a handsome man. Judging by all the flowers and cards in his room, he was fairly popular around town, too. Maybe Eli could work on that while he was home.
“My mom says you have to stay here for two whole weeks!”
She seemed positively aghast at the idea.
“It’s not that bad. They have fun things to do all day long. Games and movies and music time. Plus, they serve good food and have free popcorn in the cafeteria.”
Eli had a feeling Wendell was trying to convince himself as much as he was the little girl. His father wasn’t thrilled about the time that loomed ahead of him in the rehabilitation center, but that was the price for his impatience and desire to do both knees at the same time, when he needed daily therapy and his house wasn’t fully accessible.
“Free popcorn! You’re lucky. I love popcorn.”
“So do I, but if I eat all the free popcorn, I might have a tough time getting back on my feet.”
“I guess.” She appeared to consider that. “Do you think I could have some now?”
Wendell laughed. “Maybe. You’ll have to ask your mom. Where do you think she is?”
“Probably still talking to her friend,” Skye said.
A moment later, as if to prove her daughter wrong, Melissa appeared in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled.
He had seen her three times that day, in three different wardrobe changes.
This morning on the beach, she had been wearing running clothes—leggings and a comfortable-looking hoodie, with her hair up in a ponytail. All day he had been aware of her moving around the office in burgundy-colored scrubs and a black cardigan. Tonight, Melissa had changed into jeans and a soft coral sweater and had let her hair down to curl around her shoulders.
He wasn’t sure which version he found more attractive. It was a little like being asked to choose among his favorite ice cream flavors.
“Oh,” she exclaimed, slightly breathless, with a stern look to her daughter. “Here you are. I didn’t know where you went. I was busy talking to Jan and when I turned around, you had completely disappeared.”
He could still see the shadows of unease in her expression and felt a wave of sympathy. He didn’t have children, but he knew that panicked feeling of not being able to find someone you cared for deeply. He had a flashback of running through a panicked crowd, everyone else screaming and trying to escape the market center while he ran toward the chaos and fear. He closed his eyes, trying to scrub it away and return to the moment.
“I told you two times I was going to carry the basket to room forty-one,” Skye informed her mother. “I guess you just didn’t hear me.”
More of Melissa’s fear seemed to seep away and she hugged her child. “I’m sorry, honey. Jan is an old friend of mine from nursing school. I didn’t know she was working here. I’m afraid I got a little distracted, catching up with her.”
“My arms were too tired to keep holding the basket, so I found the room and gave it myself to Dr. Sanderson.”
“I see that. Thanks, kiddo.” She ran a hand over her daughter’s hair and the sweet, tender familiarity of the gesture sent an odd lump rising in his throat.
The unexpected emotions intensified when she leaned forward and kissed Wendell on the cheek.
“And how are you? How are the new knees?”
His father shrugged, clearly pleased at the visit from Melissa and her daughter. “I can’t complain. Though I’m not ready to dance the salsa yet, I can tell they’re already less painful than the old ones. They’ll be even better once I break them in.”
“Don’t be in too big of a rush. How many times have I heard you tell your patients that true healing takes time?”
His father made a face. “Do you know how annoying it is to have your own words thrown back in your face?”
She laughed. “It’s for your own good.”
“I know.” He gestured to the brace she wore. “What happened to your wrist?”
Her gaze shifted to Eli, and he thought he saw a soft brush of color soak her cheeks. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say Fiona was in a strange mood this morning and I fell. But it’s feeling much better. Your son checked it out for me.”
Whether she had wanted him to or not. She didn’t say the words, but he had a feeling she was thinking them.
“That’s good to hear. He’s a good boy and an excellent doctor. I’ve been waiting for him to come back so he can meet you.”
Oh, no. That sounded entirely too much like matchmaking. He had to cut that off before Wendell got any inappropriate ideas.
“We’ve met, Dad. You remember. Melissa and I went to high school together for a year, though I’m older. I knew her ex-husband, too.”
“My dad got married again and his wife is going to have a baby.”
Melissa gave her daughter an exasperated look, and Eli had the feeling she wasn’t thrilled with Skye for sharing that particular nugget of information.
“Yes,” she said. “We’re very happy for t
hem both.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate,” Wendell said. “That makes your visit mean even more. A visit would have been enough, you know. You didn’t have to bring along a huge care package, so heavy your strong seven-year-old daughter could barely carry it.”
“It’s only a few things, I promise. The fancy packaging always makes baskets look bigger than they are.”
Except for that fleeting glance, she seemed to be avoiding looking at him directly. Why? Had he done something wrong that day in the office? There had been a little awkwardness early on, but Eli had thought by the end of the day they had started to establish a bit of a comfortable rhythm.
Skye nudged the basket closer to Wendell. “Open it. I want to see if you like the stuff we picked out.”
“I’m sure I will love everything. It came from you, so of course I will.” He smiled at the girl, who beamed back at him.
His father’s rapport with both Melissa and her daughter didn’t surprise him. Wendell loved people, one reason his staff adored him and his patients returned to him for generations.
“Go on,” Skye pressed. “Open it.”
He helped his father out by setting the basket on Wendell’s lap, then watched as his father went through the contents. There was nothing elaborate, but all the gifts seemed thoughtful and sweet—a paperback mystery he knew Wendell would adore, a book of crossword puzzles, a box of chocolates and a bag of lemon drops, a journal, a soft-looking knit throw that would feel perfect on chilly spring mornings.
His father was delighted with all of it.
“Thank you so very much,” he said after he had unearthed each new delight. “How did I ever get so lucky to have you both in my life?”
“We’re the lucky ones,” Melissa said with a smile.
“I don’t have a grandpa and he doesn’t have a grandkid, so Dr. Wendell said we can both pretend we belong to each other,” Skye informed Eli.
It warmed his heart that Melissa appeared to watch out for his father. She struck him as someone who couldn’t help caring about others. He had witnessed it all day. Even with her own injured wrist, she had been kind and caring to each patient they had seen.
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