The Doctor's Instant Family

by Mindy Neff

  “Grab a coat, Hollywood. Today’s the day we do house calls.”

  “Today’s the day you do house calls.”

  “Come on, Kel, I need you. I’ve been out to the Thurmans a couple of times now. I’m fairly certain Ella’s got mitral valve prolapse, but she refuses to come in for an echocardiogram. She’s not symptomatic—no irregular heartbeat, no migraines, chest pain or panic attacks.” Although Mrs. T did claim the urge to bash Mr. T with the skillet now and again. That probably didn’t count as panic attacks.

  “So, since she won’t come in, I’m thinking she should at least err on the side of caution and take a dose of antibiotics if she plans to have any dental work done. I’d feel a lot better if I had a second opinion, though.”

  “Chance—”

  “Come on, Kel. You might have fun.” The minute he said it, her eyes clouded. Damn it, he was going to find out what was the matter with her. And having her cooped up in the truck with him as he made rounds to folks who couldn’t or wouldn’t come in for treatment was an opportunity he didn’t want to pass up.

  “Please?” He’d resort to begging if he had to. “Come with me and see what country doctoring’s all about.” As a professional, he was pretty certain she wouldn’t be able to resist. He’d seen her immediate interest when he’d described Mrs. Thurman’s symptoms.

  “I need to get home to the girls,” she hedged.

  “We’ll be back by noon. You’re on the clock until one, anyway.”

  She lifted a brow. “Are you pulling the ‘I’m the boss’ routine?”

  He grinned. “I can. I was hoping you’d be curious enough that I wouldn’t have to. You’re a doctor.” He held up his hand when she automatically opened her mouth to argue. “Being a doctor’s not just a job. It’s a mission. It’s part of who we are. Are you going to stand there and deny that I’m right?”

  Kelly heaved a sigh and picked up her coat. “You know, it’s an ugly trait to gloat.”

  “I’ll work on it.” He held the door open for her, locked it behind them, then stowed the two chests in the back seat of his pickup and helped her into the cab.

  She noted that he also had survival gear behind the seat and wondered if he’d ever had to use it. The possibility of getting caught in a blizzard wasn’t such a stretch of the imagination. Montana was a completely different world than California.

  Snow had fallen last night, but not enough to make the roads impassable. When he started the engine, music blared from the radio, and he quickly reached to turn down the volume.

  Kelly glanced over at him with a small smile. “You know that’ll ruin your hearing.”

  “Naw. I figure I’ll outgrow playing it loud before it does any damage.”

  The knobby tires of the truck crunched over a muddy pile of snow as he pulled out onto the street. Sunshine glinted off the decorations on the town Christmas tree, its branches fluttering gently in the breeze. Patches of snow clung to the roofs of the church and the redbrick courthouse.

  Kelly loved looking at the wintry scene. The snow was beautiful, nature’s way of upholstering the countryside in a blanket of white. Puffy clouds hung low in a sky so blue it nearly hurt to look at it. She just wished something so pretty wasn’t so doggone cold.

  She hadn’t had an opportunity to drive around much since she’d come here. Partly because the less she drove on ice-slick roads, the better she liked it, and because she simply hadn’t given any thought to exploring.

  “So where are we going?”

  “About twenty miles up the road and over a ways. Barney Heppermill’s wife called this morning and said Barney was having chest pains. He insisted it wasn’t bad enough to call an ambulance, so we’ll check on him first.”

  “I didn’t take a call from a Heppermill,” she said, glancing at the chart on the seat between them.

  “That’s because she called in on the radio before you got in.” He glanced over at her. “Now, you want to tell me what happened to you between last night and this morning?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  She sighed. Chance was the type of man who got information out a person if he wanted it. He wouldn’t let up until she told him.

  “Kimmy had a bad dream. At least I think that’s what it was. I feel so damned impotent when it comes to my little girl.”

  “Do you think it has to do with the accident?”

  “I suspect so. But I don’t know. I don’t want to probe or bring up bad memories if that’s not what she’s thinking about. On the other hand, I don’t want to ignore it if that is what’s plaguing her little mind.”

  He drove easily, with his wrist resting on the steering wheel, his free hand ready in case he needed to do some fancy maneuvering—or wanted to reach across the cab of the truck and offer comfort.

  Kelly’s younger daughter had wrapped herself around his heart, and he didn’t think she was going to turn it loose anytime soon. He wanted to help her. Maybe it was none of his business, but he wanted to make it his.

  “Do you know how much she saw?” He knew what electrocution could do to a person. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

  “No. I wish to God every day that I did. I don’t know what kind of monsters I’m fighting.”

  “Will you tell me about it?”

  She turned her head, gazed out at the snow-covered prairie. She was silent for so long he thought she wouldn’t answer. At last she spoke.

  “Steve was in Candy’s garage, playing handyman, of all things. The man wouldn’t even change a lightbulb, yet he decided to play Mr. Fix-It, God only knows why.”

  “Candy. Your friend, right?”

  “My ex-friend. Steve’s girlfriend.”

  “I don’t get it. Why the hell would he take his daughter to his girlfriend’s house?”

  “Oh, we were all there. It was very civilized, you see. Candy wasn’t just my best friend, she was Jessica and Kimberly’s godmother.”

  “Ah, hell.”

  “Steve wasn’t there for a tryst, though—they kept that secret well hidden. I didn’t find out about the affair until the funeral. In any case, we were there for dinner and I was in the kitchen putting together a salad. Steve went out in the garage to check out the earthquake strap Candy needed for the water heater—a code requirement when someone’s selling their house, which she was. I have no idea what possessed him to pick up that old drill motor and try to install the part himself. Maybe he wanted to impress Candy with other skills besides the ones in the bedroom. Who knows?”

  She tugged the lapels of her coat closer, and Chance reached over and turned up the heater.

  “I heard Candy screaming. I ran out, and Jessica followed. Kimmy was standing by the workbench, half-hidden, terrified. When I saw the burns on Steve, I knew right away what had happened. I started CPR, but he was already gone.”

  “So Jessica saw, too?”

  “A little bit. My body was pretty much covering him while I was trying to get his heart started again. I remember that Jessica was hiding her face in Candy’s skirt, but Kimmy was just staring. She was in the garage with them the whole time. She could have been playing somewhere, maybe not seen it all. I asked Candy and she didn’t know, couldn’t remember. She was watching Steve. When the electricity got hold of him, she didn’t realize that’s what was happening. She thought he was goofing around.”

  He didn’t know what to say to her. He’d seen death, but it hadn’t been as personal as this. He wondered if he would be as strong as Kelly if he’d gone through such a horrific nightmare.

  And he wondered if he had what it would take to heal her, show her that life wasn’t about betrayal, that there were people you could trust, count on. That she didn’t have to carry the whole load alone.

  She held so much on her slender shoulders it was a wonder she didn’t bow from the pressure. But she was stubborn, led with her chin. As he imagined she’d done all her life—as a gifted kid who’d been isolated beca
use of her special qualities, instead of embraced, and as an adult who’d seen her dreams shatter.

  Kelly knotted her hands in her lap, trying not to dwell on what she couldn’t change, wondering if she would ever stumble on the answers she needed. She felt Chance’s hand cover hers. So warm.

  The squeeze of compassion nearly released the emotions she tried so hard to repress. She wanted to turn her hand over, link her fingers with his. But she kept her hands locked together, and after a minute, Chance removed his.

  “Not much farther,” he said. They turned off the highway and traveled several miles on a road that was hardly more than a rut in the snow.

  A run-down house came into view, the porch sagging, the yard littered with rusted-out cars missing engines and all manner of parts.

  “Barney’s in the salvage business,” Chance said.

  They climbed out of the truck, retrieved their equipment and mounted the porch steps. Chance gave a perfunctory knock on the storm door with its ripped screen, then walked in as though he was visiting family and sure of his welcome.

  Kelly followed, glancing around. She noted the soiled slipcover that didn’t quite hide the sag in the middle of the couch. The Christmas tree that held a place of honor in front of the picture window, a single flat package beneath it wrapped in aluminum foil and tied with a red ribbon. For all its sad state, the house was neat and clean, and quaintly festive.

  “How’re you doing, Barney?” Chance asked.

  “’Bout the same. Been better. Got me a fierce pain right in here.” The old man pounded a fist on his sternum. “Not sure if it’s the old ticker or not.”

  “Well, let’s have a listen.” Chance took the stethoscope Kelly handed him. “Barney, this is my assistant, Dr. Kelly Anderson.”

  “Mighty pretty for a doctor. Puts you to shame, boy.”

  “That she does.” He listened carefully to the heart and lung sounds. Systolic and diastolic pressure were fine, and sinus rhythm was normal. Plenty of gastric activity going on, though.

  “Mm-hmm,” Chance said, “just as I thought. You been eating Bessie’s chili-pepper stew again?”

  “She makes the best in these parts, you know.”

  “I know. But you gotta go easy on it.” He turned to Kelly. “I think a GI cocktail will do the trick.”

  “Do you have the meds for it?”

  He winked. “A good Boy Scout always comes prepared.”

  “You weren’t a Boy Scout.”

  “Damn. How come I keep forgetting that?”

  She shook her head and hid a smile.

  He turned back to his patient. “Barney, have you developed any allergies to medicines since I saw you last?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Well, then, we’re going to give you a semi-pleasant-tasting mixture of stuff with fancy names that’s basically a supercharged antacid. It’ll stop the heartburn, and stomach pain. Should have you feeling up to snuff in no time at all.”

  After Barney took the medicine, Kelly helped pack up their equipment. She saw the older man press a five-dollar bill into Chance’s hand.

  “I’ll send more when business picks up a bit.”

  Chance shook his head. “Not necessary. Your account’s paid up.” The man started to object. Chance put his hand on Barney’s shoulder, saving the man’s pride. “That medicine came to me as free samples from the drug reps. I’m not out any money. We really are square.” He shook Barney’s hand. “You all have a Merry Christmas.”

  As they walked back to the truck, Kelly was silent, thoughtful. She’d known Chance’s well of compassion was huge. Seeing him in action was eye-opening—and humbling.

  His type of doctoring was vastly different from anything she’d encountered in California, where insurance companies dictated the level of care and a seven-minute office visit cost a hundred bucks.

  She thought about the five-dollar bill Chance had tucked into his pocket without even looking at it. She’d already known he treated first and worried about insurance second. It was a wonder his practice could keep its head above water, but amazingly enough, it did just fine.

  “That was sweet, what you did for Barney.”

  He shrugged. “Bessie was driving an hour one way to work in a garment factory. They recently made some cuts, and her job was one of the first to go. She’s been trying to save up to buy her granddaughter a tricycle.”

  Kelly felt her heart squeeze and had the most overwhelming urge to send the Heppermills enough money to buy that tricycle and a Christmas ham, too. Sometimes she got so caught up in her own problems she forgot to count her blessings.

  “What made you decide to practice here in Shotgun Ridge, rather than the city?”

  “I didn’t like the politics in the city. And the violence got to me.”

  “Where did you go to school?”

  “Harvard.” He saw her eyes widen and nearly laughed. It amused him that he had a snootier education than she did, and she was the one who worked in a big city.

  “Money’s never been an issue in my family. My dad made a good living ranching, and my mom made a fortune selling her art. When I went off to college, they moved into the city so Mom could open a gallery.”

  “And you said you had sisters?”

  “Two of them. Both older, married with kids, living in the city.” And continually poking at him because of his single status.

  “Dad retired from ranching—which was taking its toll on his body. They sold the ranch because I didn’t need it. I’d already settled on my choice of career, and the ranch was too big, required time and effort that I wouldn’t be able to give it. All I needed was a small piece of land to keep a couple of horses, someplace close to town and my medical practice.”

  “So did you always know you’d come back here to hang out your shingle?”

  “Probably in the back of my mind. I interned in a busy trauma center where gunshot wounds were the norm.” If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the inconsolable screams of mothers who’d lost sons and daughters.

  “It got to where the patients I didn’t save outnumbered the ones I did. And that’s not what I’d gone through a decade of schooling for.”

  Checking his mirror, he pulled into the next lane to overtake a slow-moving pickup, giving a wave to the driver as he passed.

  “Everything was so impersonal,” he continued. “I kept flashing back to Dr. Monroe coming out to our house when my sister fell under the tractor and nearly lost her leg. Doc was there before the ambulance. He worked like a demon to save the leg. He talked Lisa through the pain, held her hand, distracted her by asking about school and the calf she was raising to enter in the county fair, and about the boy in town who was sweet on her. He’d known all those things about my sister. I couldn’t say the same for a single one of the patients who came in and out of my emergency room.”

  He saw an elk poised at the edge of the road and took his foot off the gas in case the animal decided to dart across the highway.

  “Anyway, the ambulance took Lisa to the hospital where a surgeon repaired her leg, but I remember the gratitude we’d all felt toward Dr. Monroe for being first on the scene. And when she got home, he was the guy who came out to the house to check on her, to drink coffee and talk about life. That’s what I wanted. To know my patients and care. Not have them just be a chart with symptoms. So when Dr. Monroe retired, I took over his practice.”

  Kelly watched Chance easily maneuver the truck around a pile of slushy snow in the road. His looks didn’t fit the image he’d just described, but the man did. The man he was inside.

  He was content. She tried to remember if she’d ever been content. She remembered the nagging discontent she’d felt in her house of stone with security gates and high walls fencing them in from outsiders. She’d been half joking when she’d asked her dad where the old days had gone, the ideal depicted on old TV westerns about families and communities and a simpler life.

  It was alive and well in Shotgun Ridge.

/>   And Chance Hammond, the long, lean, flirtatious cowboy doctor was the modern-day epitome of her deepest, most exciting fantasy.

  She shook herself out of those thoughts, wondered where in the world they’d come from. She hadn’t spent ten years and over a hundred thousand dollars to become a surgeon just to walk away from it.

  Then again, nobody was asking her to.

  THEY SAW SEVERAL more patients over the course of the morning, and the innate doctor in her had Kelly digging in and participating, not merely assisting. She’d agreed with Chance’s assessment of Mrs. Thurman’s heart murmur and was touched when the woman insisted she take home two jars of homemade blackberry jam.

  These house calls had nothing to do with money and everything to do with people’s lives. Sometimes the patients simply wanted to talk. And Chance knew what to talk to them about.

  Just like the man who’d been his role model.

  As they headed back to town, Kelly felt a satisfaction she rarely felt—even after a successful surgery. Because in surgery, most of her patients were simply bone, tissue and organs. She didn’t know if their grandmother had recently died or if their pipes had frozen last winter or if they were still waiting for somebody to show up and fix the roof. She didn’t know their anniversary dates, their kids’ birthdays or that crazy cousin Al had set tongues wagging last Halloween when he’d taken his flasher costume a little too far.

  She thought about young Sally Thurman, a girl of about fourteen, who’d watched Chance with shy adoring eyes the whole time they’d been there.

  “Do you have problems with female patients falling for you?”

  “More often, it’s the females who don’t want me taking care of them. You remember Emily Bodine’s reaction over a prenatal examination.” Though he’d ended up delivering her babies, after all.

  “She went to school with you. That’s understandable.”

  He glanced over at her. “I wouldn’t mind if a certain assistant fell for me.”

  “Your ego astonishes me.”

  “Hey, I’m a man who knows where he’s been and where he’s going…and what he wants.”

  She didn’t need him to interpret that for her. The intensity in his blue eyes said plenty. She couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. That hot kiss on the couch had stirred her up and she hadn’t settled since. It was clear he wanted her. She just wasn’t sure what to do about it.