“We may do them now,” Evan decided. “I’ll know more after I examine her.”
He closed the file and grabbed the last one. “Monica Taylor.”
Marta drew a deep breath. “She’s my biggest worry. She always presents with something serious, but I can’t ever find anything wrong. She was in yesterday complaining of chest pain, but her ECG was normal. We sent a blood sample off for heart enzymes, but her results fell within the normal range.”
He flipped through the records. “She comes in frequently with stomach upsets.”
“Yes. Over-the-counter meds seem to help, but the one time I could talk her into having an upper GI, the X-ray was normal.”
“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully as he read through her notes. Marta waited for him to finish, noticing the combination of a woodsy cologne and soap surrounding him. Marta wanted to find fault with the pleasant scent, but couldn’t.
“She certainly presents with a variety of problems,” he finally said. “There’s no rhyme or reason either.”
“I know. I’m afraid I’m missing something.”
“Her complaints seem straightforward. According to your documentation, you’ve checked her thoroughly. Maybe she’s a hypochondriac.”
“Maybe, which is why I wanted a physician’s opinion.”
He leaned back in his chair. “OK. We’ll see how she is when she comes in today.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you explain how things work around here? Appointments, lab tests and all that?”
Marta relaxed. As long as they limited their conversations to medical issues, she could suffer his presence and come through this relatively unscathed. With any luck, he’d soon recognize the futility of waiting for her to open any discussions. He’d tire, then move on, and life for both of them would return to normal.
“About two-thirds of my patients come in for check-ups and monitoring—Coumadin, insulin, digoxin, cholesterol levels and blood pressures. Another third are minor emergencies—sore throats, gashes, an occasional broken arm.”
“What about the major cases?” Evan asked.
“We have a scanner and a police-band radio in the office that connects us to the county emergency medical service. Our volunteer firemen are EMTs and we’re lucky enough to also have one who worked as a paramedic in the city before coming back to New Hope. Between the two of us, we stabilize the patient before sending him on.”
“Then you’re on call all of the time?”
“More or less. It’s generally quiet.”
“But what happens when you leave town?” he pressed.
“As I said, we have a good crop of emergency staff. They’re experienced and know what they’re doing.”
“I read through your protocol book. It’s very thorough.”
She flushed under his praise. “Thanks. I tried to make it as comprehensive as possible. It’s come in handy more than once.”
Ros appeared in the doorway. “Monica and Juanita are here. I haven’t been able to reach the others, but I’ll keep trying.”
“Thanks.” Marta rose. “Are you ready?” she asked Evan.
“You bet.”
For the next hour, Marta was forced to admire both Evan’s medical skills and his manner with patients. What really surprised her was the way he greeted Juanita in Spanish, although he admitted he wasn’t very fluent. Marta grudgingly gave him points for making the effort.
He ordered blood work and urine tests, making his request sound as if they were run-of-the mill procedures in order to keep Juanita from worrying about her elevated blood pressure before she left.
To Monica Taylor, Evan asked the same questions Marta had asked on previous occasions. That in itself was rather gratifying.
“Your heart is fine,” he told the woman. “In fact, you’re in excellent health.”
“Really?” Monica seemed surprised. “Sometimes it feels like it’s racing and then my chest hurts so bad I can’t hardly breathe. Are you sure you can’t find anything wrong with me?”
“I’m positive,” he assured her. “Your pulse rate is fine, I don’t hear any murmurs, the ECG doesn’t show any arrhythmias, and your lungs are clear. Everything seems to be in working order.”
She gave him a dubious look. “If you say so. What do I do if I get chest pain again?”
“By all means, come back,” he told her as he ushered her through the door.
“Well, what do you think?” Marta asked him privately.
“She’s in better shape than a lot of people her age. Does she, by any chance, have someone who checks on her periodically?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then all we can do is exactly what we’ve done today.” Evan paused. “If she lives alone, she may be dwelling on the normal aches associated with growing older. If you think about any pain long enough, you can imagine the worst when it isn’t so.”
“You’re right.”
Evan smiled. “So rest easy. From what I can see, you’ve been thorough in your assessments. I’m impressed.”
Her face warmed under his praise. “Thanks.”
“And I’m not just saying it to flatter you,” he continued. “Some of my med students aren’t as observant as you are.”
“Med students?” she asked.
He nodded. “St Margaret’s is a teaching facility. They all come through my department at one time or another.”
His department! Evan Gallagher wasn’t a run-of-the-mill doctor if he held such an enviable position. His acting as a locum didn’t make sense. He might be friends with Winston, but friendship only went so far.
“Who’s next?” he asked.
“That’s it for today,” she informed him.
“You don’t see patients this afternoon?”
She shook her head. “Not on Wednesdays. From September through May, I act as the district’s school nurse. Since it’s summer and school isn’t in session, I take the afternoon off.”
“Oh.” He headed for the door. “If you should need me, I’m staying at the Lazy Daze Motel. Number Six. Any suggestions on a good place to eat?”
Marta almost felt sorry for Evan. She couldn’t imagine having to eat the diner’s simple food at every meal for weeks on end, especially when his palate was probably used to exotic fare like lobster and quiche. Yet, in spite of her grudging respect for the way he treated her patients, she couldn’t bring herself to offer a home-cooked meal. He’d volunteered to spend his vacation in New Hope, and if he suffered from the lack of amenities then he had no one to blame but himself.
“The Steakhouse Grill is good.”
“I’ll try it,” he said. “By the way, do you know of any apartments to rent?”
“There are a few complexes at the east end of town. They’re not very fancy.”
“As long as it has the basics, I don’t care. Wait, I take that back. A comfortable mattress is a must.”
“Bad back?” she asked, imagining him sprawled across a bed, wearing only a sheet that barely covered his hips.
“No. When you’ve spent as much time in bed as I have lately, comfort is a necessity.”
Good heavens! Was he bragging about his exploits? Her distaste must have showed on her face, because he laughed.
“I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong. I caught hepatitis A from shellfish at a dinner party.”
“I hope you fired the chef.”
“I didn’t hire him,” he said ruefully. “I was wining and dining a prospective donor at an exclusive restaurant, trying to coax him and his wife into contributing to the new wing of St Margaret’s.”
She laughed. “Talk about making an impression.”
He smiled. “I’d made the reservations based upon their recommendation. Naturally, they felt terrible when I got sick and they didn’t.”
“I’m sure.”
“The evening wasn’t a total loss. They made an extremely generous donation to compensate.”
Marta wasn’t surprised. Money had a
way of easing guilt.
“But don’t worry,” he continued. “I’m not contagious. I just haven’t regained my energy.”
“Is that why you were going to Colorado? To recuperate?”
“Partly.” He didn’t offer any more information and although Marta’s curiosity was aroused, she didn’t ask any more questions. She’d already broken her rule about keeping their conversations strictly professional.
Evan’s private life was none of her business. If she ventured there, she’d relax her guard and then, before she knew what had happened, she’d forget that he wasn’t just a locum from nowhere who was here for a few weeks.
Developing a friendship with a man who enjoyed a close relationship with her grandfather was simply asking for trouble.
CHAPTER FOUR
FOR the next ten days, Marta wanted to find fault with Evan…and couldn’t. He was efficient, highly skilled and polite to everyone, including her…and it was driving her to distraction.
On that Friday, Evan had just left for lunch and his usual afternoon off. Marta rummaged through her desk drawer in search of something to settle her stomach.
“Digging for lost treasure?”
Ros’s familiar voice didn’t stop Marta. “Very funny. Have you seen—?”
“No.” Ros wheeled toward the desk.
Marta glanced up. “How can you say no? You don’t know what I want.”
“Yes, I do. Your stomach is on the warpath and you’re looking for your usual solution.”
“All right. I admit it,” Marta grumbled, irritated at Ros’s smug attitude and her ability to read her so accurately. “Have you seen my—?”
Ros held out an empty bottle. “Right here.”
Marta frowned. “I just bought those.”
“I know.” The plastic container thudded against the trash can as she tossed it inside. “Can a person get addicted to antacids?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Marta rolled her eyes. “I’m not addicted.”
“You’re eating them like candy. I may only be a medical secretary, but it seems to me that if you need them that often, you have a real problem.”
“I do. It’s called Evan Gallagher.”
“I can’t imagine why. He’s gorgeous, utterly fantastic to work with and—”
“Spare me your list of his sterling qualities. He’s charmed you and everyone else in town. I’ll bet if he’d ask for the moon, you’d do your best to give it to him.”
Marta returned her attention to the drawer. Surely she could find a loose tablet floating around with the conglomeration of rubber bands, paper clips, staples, stamps and notepads.
“I live to serve,” Ros said cheerfully.
“If he hadn’t agreed to let you analyze his handwriting, you’d hold a far different opinion of the man.”
“I asked because I thought he’d make an interesting character study,” Ros said defensively. “Then maybe you’ll see him as one of the good guys.”
“Fat chance. I don’t want to see him at all. I want him to leave town.” Marta slammed the drawer closed and leaned back in her chair.
“No, you don’t. He’s been too valuable to have around and you know it. Look at what he’s accomplished. He’s adjusted Maria’s insulin and convinced her to quit fudging on her diet. He’s running tests on Mrs Lopez that I’ve never heard of, just so he can get a handle on her high blood pressure. Plus—”
“OK, OK. He’s an adequate doctor to have around.”
“Adequate? Why, he’s fantastic. I didn’t know doctors like him existed!”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Marta said, refusing to broadcast the high regard she held for his medical abilities. If her personal life wasn’t linked to his, she’d worship the ground he walked on like everyone else.
He’d become a familiar sight as he pedaled around town on the mountain bike he’d purchased from The Cycle Center and had thoroughly charmed all who crossed his path. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if the city council decided to build and name a bike trail after him.
Her personal life was definitely the problem. She could be discussing a patient when all of a sudden she’d notice his cologne, the way he stroked his chin with long, lean fingers, or the dimple in his cheek when he smiled. Awareness would strike like a bolt of lightning. Her knees would wobble until her brain began to function again and remind her of his true purpose for being in her clinic. She didn’t have any business being attracted to a man who was literally making her life miserable without even trying.
“I don’t know why you’re tying yourself in knots over him. He’s a friend of your grandad’s. It’s hardly a hanging offense.”
“It should be,” Marta snapped.
Ros shrugged. “I hate to say this, but you’re acting childish…and chicken.”
Marta opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. Ros was right. The insecurity, anger and frustration of the fifteen-year-old girl buried inside her had resurfaced after all these years. Marta had thought she’d laid those feelings to rest long ago, but apparently not.
She sighed, letting her shoulders droop. “Oh, Ros. I don’t know what I’m going to do. The man makes me so nervous I could literally jump out of my skin.”
“What does he do to set you on edge? He’s so polite and calm, never raises his voice and is always friendly. As far as I can tell, he doesn’t have a single irritating habit either.”
“That’s the problem. He’s too nice.” Without a few more faults to focus on, it was getting harder to justify her dislike of him.
Ros raised one eyebrow. “Then by all means, we should run him out of town. You get the tar and I’ll find the feathers. Better yet, let’s form a posse and lynch him!”
Marta threw Ros an exasperated glance. “You know what I mean.”
“No,” Ros said. “I don’t. How can one be too nice?”
“You said it yourself. He’s polite and personable, even when he shouldn’t be.” Marta thought of how last Friday Evan had hunted her down to ask a question about one of her referrals. She’d been so mesmerized by his long eyelashes and the luster of his eyes she’d lapsed into another momentary daydream. Unnerved by her lack of control, she’d told him to read the chart before she’d walked away. She would never, ever have said that to a physician, but she had, and to a man who’d probably forgotten more medical knowledge than she’d ever learned.
“You’d feel better if he yelled at you once in a while?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. I just want to see him…respond.”
“Why? So you can call Dr Campbell and tell him how impossible Dr Gallagher is to work with?”
Marta felt a twinge of embarrassment. “All right. So the thought crossed my mind. I was more in hopes of him getting tired of the cold treatment and leaving on his own.”
Unfortunately, she’d failed miserably at her own plan. She warmed to him on a regular basis and it took an extreme act of will to maintain her icy emotional distance. Their days had as many ups and downs as The Mamba roller-coaster ride at Worlds of Fun. He’d probably diagnosed her as having a case of terminal PMS.
Not that it mattered what he thought, she reminded herself crossly.
Ros shook her head. “I told you. He won’t give up.”
Marta cast a wry glance at Ros. “I’m convinced.”
“OK. We’ve established that you want him to chew you out, but he’s too polite. Now, tell Auntie Ros what the real problem is.”
Marta’s excuse sounded silly, even to herself. “It’s nothing.”
“Of course it’s something, otherwise you wouldn’t have bought enough antacid tablets to send the company stock prices soaring.”
“It’s irrational and ridiculous.”
“Most fears often are.”
Marta hesitated, trying to explain her turmoil when she didn’t have the words. “We’ve talked, but he’s strictly business. And if he does talk about other topics, they’re always about general things, like the weather, or the p
rice of gasoline.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted? If I remember, you declared your grandfather’s name as off-limits.”
Marta nodded. “I know, but even though Evan is playing by my rules, I feel like we’re in a holding pattern, waiting for…something. Then, when I least expect it, after I’ve let down my guard, he’ll move in for the proverbial kill and I won’t have any defenses in place.”
Ros slowly nodded. “I see. The question is, why do you need to protect yourself?”
Because Winston Clay drained every ounce of my self-esteem out of me, she silently answered.
“The first time I saw Winston Clay,” Marta said quietly, forcing herself to remember, “he yelled at me for having the audacity to appear in his office. I’d never felt so insignificant, so unimportant, in my life. When I walked out, I was bound and determined to become someone just as important and successful as he was.”
“Oh, Marta.” Distress filled Ros’s voice. “After knowing you all these years, I had no clue what drove you to work so hard…”
Marta shrugged. “Yeah, well, I don’t like to talk about it.”
Ros fell silent, and when she spoke her voice had softened. “I understand why your stomach is always churning, but you’re going to have to get past this. The situation with your grandfather is eating away at you and it isn’t healthy, physically or emotionally.”
“I know.” However, forgiving Winston was easier said than done.
“If I can tell you’re gobbling those…” Ros motioned to the empty bottle in the trash “…more often than you should, don’t you suppose Dr Gallagher has noticed, too?”
Marta thought of how, just that morning, he’d come upon her slipping a tablet in her mouth. After seeing him frown, she’d expected him to comment, but he hadn’t. Instead, his expression had cleared and he’d only raised an eyebrow as he’d questioned if she’d received the latest lab results on Juanita Lopez.
Oh, he definitely knew the effect he was having on her.
“He’s noticed,” Marta admitted. “He just hasn’t said anything.”
Ros became thoughtful. “By worrying yourself sick, you’re giving your grandfather control over you.”
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