“How long have you been here?” Amy asked as she walked beside him to the chairs lining the utilitarian beige walls.
“Just a couple of weeks.” He marked off every day on the Norman Rockwell calendar his part-time nurse assistant had given him as a welcoming gift. He didn’t know whether this would make the time seem to go faster or slower, but he liked to keep track of time.
“Did you find a nice place to stay?” his dancing partner asked.
“Nice enough, yes.” What could he say about a bedroom the size of a supply closet and a kitchen that was part of the living room? It was the back rear apartment in a large Victorian house that had been chopped up into five units a long time ago. At least the rent was cheap, and he was all about saving money until he could get back to Santa Barbara.
When Amy-in-the-awful-dress was seated on one of the folding chairs, it was his cue to thank her for the dance and leave the reception. Although he appreciated the invitation, this wasn’t his kind of party. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and he was more a curiosity than a guest who belonged there.
Instead he sat down beside her, although he wasn’t sure why.
“Still dizzy?” he asked because it was the only excuse he had to hang out with her.
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“You’re the first maid of honor I’ve seen injured in the line of duty,” he said with a smile.
“It wasn’t Mandy’s fault. She’s practically blind without her glasses.”
“You’re a good sport about it.” He reached over and pressed the tape on her bandage more securely to her skin, a totally unnecessary gesture. Was it his fault he felt protective?
“Can I get you something to drink?” He remembered seeing a punch bowl with green foamy stuff in it.
“I’d really like a glass of water,” she admitted diffidently, as though it was too much to request of a stranger.
“Maybe some cake too?” he suggested as he stood to get a drink for her.
“Maybe later, thanks. I’m a little put off by inch-thick frosting,” she said with what could be a sheepish smile.
“Did you have dinner before the wedding?” He surprised himself by asking.
“No, but I’m not hungry. All I really want is to get out of this dress.”
He arched his eyebrows, knowing what a California girl would mean by that.
“No, I didn’t mean … ” Her cheeks flushed, and she shifted her bottom on the hard chair seat.
“Yeah, the color doesn’t do anything for you,” he said to lessen her embarrassment. “I’m going to grab a burger at that diner on the edge of town. Care to join me?”
“Thanks, but I still have to help Mandy get dressed to leave on their honeymoon. She’d be disappointed if I didn’t stay.”
“Where they going?” He couldn’t care less, but against his better judgment, he wanted to prolong their conversation.
“Herbert Hoover’s birthplace in West Bend, Iowa. Judson has always wanted to go there.”
Dan had to stifle a laugh. Of all the places to honeymoon, Hoover’s historical site would be on the bottom of most people’s list. Of course, small-town folk were a different breed, one he was only beginning to know.
“I’ll get that water,” he said.
What he didn’t anticipate was how long it took him to get back to the kitchen. One elderly woman tried to consult with him about arthritis in her hip. Two giggling girls asked if he’d be giving physicals to their school soccer team. The groom sidled up and told him his little problem was better.
By the time he got back with a plastic cup of water, Amy Crane wasn’t where he’d left her. He surveyed the crowd, feeling a little foolish fetching a drink for a woman who wasn’t there.
Maybe it was for the best. She was cute, especially for a pharmacist. They tended to wear wire frame glasses and carry pen protectors in their shirt pockets. At least that was his impression in Iowa City, where he’d gotten his medical degree. The last thing he needed was a crush — make that an attraction — since he was looking at turning thirty in a couple of years.
“Oh, you brought the water,” she said coming up behind him. “I thought maybe you’d left.”
Did she think he’d offer and then duck out? Was that the way a man treated a lady in Heart City, Iowa? A lady! Would women in this town like being called that, or was it as politically incorrect as it was in metropolitan places? He had a lot to learn about small-town life in the Midwest. Unfortunately.
“Thanks,” she said, draining the glass in one huge gulp. “You have no idea how thirsty I was.”
He did now, but at least she wasn’t at all pretentious, sipping as if more than an ounce would wash her away.
“Will your wife be joining you here?” she asked, taking him aback. Why did she think he was married?
“Not any time soon, since I don’t have one.”
She’d managed to hit a sensitive subject. His longtime college girlfriend had broken up with him rather than join him in Iowa. It was for the best — their relationship had been going downhill fast — but it was still novel for a woman to break up with him, and he didn’t like the feeling of being dumped.
“Well, there’s not much for a single person to do here. The Methodist Church has a singles group. We’re fortunate to have a movie theater that shows second runs. There’s a roller skating rink but it’s mostly a hangout for high school kids.” She recited the town’s attractions in the flat tone he associated with the heartland of the country.
“Guess it’s good I’m here to work, not play. I take it you’re one of the singles.” He was fishing, which was ridiculous given his determination not to begin anything he’d regret when it was time to leave.
“I am single, but I don’t go to the singles group. I’ve heard they’re mostly retreads — divorced people looking to try again or single parents.”
“I guess that would count me out too. Sure you won’t join me for a late night snack? I missed lunch, and those little cream cheese sandwiches won’t fill me up.”
“They’re watercress sandwiches. Mandy read in a book that the English are big on them. But no, thanks. I can’t leave this early. It’s in the maid of honor’s rule book.”
“Too bad, but thanks for the dance. You won’t be getting a bill for my first aid.”
“Big of you. Thanks,” she said in a flat voice.
He’d meant it as a joke, but it came out wrong. She’d probably think he was a money-hungry carpetbagger, and she wouldn’t be totally wrong. After scrimping his way through medical school and his internship, he looked forward to having a little extra cash — and keeping up the payments on the seven-year-old van necessary to his practice. According to the terms of his contract, he had to visit patients in the county hospital approximately seventeen miles away. There were also elderly people who might require a house call, a tradition still alive in rural Iowa.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Amy,” he said.
“The same here. People are excited to have a doctor again, even temporarily. I think you’ll like us when you get to know us.”
Did he come across as a misanthropic? Her comment stung a bit. He’d honed his bedside manner until he could be as warm and fuzzy as any doctor.
“Well, see you around,” he said, deciding it was past time to cut off this conversation.
“Just so you know for future reference, Warner’s a full-service drug store,” she said. “There’s a soda fountain and a post office substation along with an extensive inventory of pharmaceuticals. If we don’t have something you prescribe, either Mr. Warner or I will drive to another town to get it at no extra cost to the patient.”
“That’s good to know.” Her spiel sounded like a commercial, but it was good information. “I’ll see you around.”
Or maybe
, he thought, I’ll try to avoid you. So far she was hands down the most attractive woman he’d seen in Heart City. This might be a lonesome gig, but he didn’t want his life complicated by romantic attachments.
CHAPTER 3
“I don’t have to ask if you had a good time at the wedding,” Josie MacDonald said when Amy unlocked the front door of the pharmacy Monday morning.
“Why wouldn’t I have fun? My dress was as flattering as a potato sack, and I was wounded by the bouquet.” She went about the process of opening for the day, turning on the lights while she pretended not to know her friend was talking about the infamous dance with the doctor.
Josie had been a good pal in high school, and they’d renewed their friendship after Amy got her pharmacy degree and started working at Bert Warner’s drug store. Like many who graduated in Amy’s class, the popular blond cheerleader had never left Heart City. Instead, Josie married the high school quarterback and settled for a job clerking in the store.
“Don’t by coy,” Josie teased. “Everyone in town knows you were the only one who danced with that hot new doctor.”
“He was only checking to see if I was all right after I was scratched by the wire in Mandy’s bouquet.” Amy self-consciously touched the small bandage on her forehead, more a token reminder than a necessity.
“A dancing doctor? If that’s how he examines patients, he’s going to be the busiest physician west of the Mississippi River,” Josie said with a little smirk.
Josie was grinning when she went behind the soda fountain to start the first of several pots of coffee. Warner’s was a popular place for work breaks as well as an evening hangout for teenagers. Bert professed to hate the soda fountain business, but he believed it brought a lot of people into the store.
“I was a little dizzy — oh, never mind,” Amy said, going to the pharmacy department at the rear of the building.
Fuming a bit at Josie’s ribbing, she clipped her nametag on the pocket of her starched white jacket, not that all their customers didn’t know her already. Bert said it made her look more professional.
No doubt, Josie was only the first of many who would comment on her dance with Dr. Dan Prince. She wasn’t looking forward to explaining to customers who came into the store, not that anyone would believe how impersonal his attentions had been. Her niece Hannah wasn’t the only one in town who thought she should find a fairy-tale prince.
Bert was more excited than anyone else by the arrival of the new doctor. When people had to go out of town for medical appointments, they were more likely to have their prescriptions filled at one of the big superstores. Of course, Warner’s Pharmacy had a number of loyal customers who wouldn’t trust anyone but the owner for their medicine, but Amy was gradually building trust among them. In fact, the first customer of the day was Mrs. Grady, an octogenarian and outspoken, but sometimes amusing, longtime resident.
“Well, what do you think of him?” she asked as she stomped up to the counter thumping her cane. Usually she banged her empty pill bottle on the counter to indicate she needed a refill, but today she only stared at Amy through big round owlish glasses.
“Are you here for a refill?” Amy asked, pretending she didn’t know the elderly lady was fishing for gossip.
“Fiddlesticks! I’ve got enough of those pink pills to last ’til I’m ninety. Hope that new doc has enough sense to put me back on the little white ones. They’re a lot easier to swallow.”
“Can I help you with something else?” Mrs. Grady wasn’t the easiest customer, but most of the time she amused Amy.
“Tell me about the new doctor! What do you think of him?”
“I’m sure he’s very competent. He graduated from the University of Iowa Medical School.” It wasn’t part of Amy’s job to evaluate medical caregivers, but she knew the elderly woman wouldn’t give up until she said something.
“Oh, I know all that — everybody does. How’s his dancing?”
“Please … ”
“Give it to me straight. Is he as smooth as everyone thinks?”
“He’s very … ” Amy looked up and was stunned to see the subject of Mrs. Grady’s curiosity standing right behind her.
“Very what?” Dan asked in a teasing voice.
“This is Mrs. Grady,” she said to avoid answering. “She has arthritis and high blood pressure. She may decide to consult with you.”
“I’m Dan Prince,” he said, graciously extending his hand to the elderly lady. “My dancing is only fair, but I’m great on a surfboard.”
Amy had an instant vision of the tall, muscular doctor riding a big wave under the California sun. It was a disturbing thought, and she quickly erased it from her mind.
“Pleased to meet you,” Mrs. Grady said, putting her withered hand into his. “Never heard of that surfing thing in Iowa, but the HCCC has a big carnival every July. They’re always looking for someone who doesn’t mind water to sit on the dunking machine.”
“I’m afraid it would be a waste of the doctor’s time,” Amy said, still embarrassed by his sudden appearance.
“Harvey La Font got an ear infection from being dunked a couple of years ago, but folks don’t much like him,” Mrs. Grady said, ignoring Amy and keeping a firm hold on the doctor’s hand. “There was a big line waiting to have a go at him. He’s an outsider, came from Dubuque to run the fast food place on the edge of town. A word to the wise: I’ve heard they mix horse meat in their burgers.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dan said, laying his other hand on top of the elderly woman’s. It was a kind gesture, but it also reminded Mrs. Grady to let go.
“Well, I’ll be on my way,” the old woman said with a suspiciously flirtatious smile.
“How can I help you?” Amy asked when the doctor stood alone on the other side of the prescription counter.
“You can tell me what the HCCC is.” He grinned mischievously.
“Heart City Community Center. It’s a hangout for retired people. You’ll probably be asked to do blood pressure screenings or diabetes testing there.”
“That I’ll be happy to do. I may pass on the dunking machine.”
“Good call,” Amy said, smiling in spite of her reservations about the new doctor. “Is there something I can do for you?”
That came out wrong, she immediately realized, when she saw the gleam in his eyes.
“For now, you can fill this scrip. I was cleaning out brush behind the clinic and picked up some poison oak.” He extended his arm to show her some nasty red blisters. “Apparently I’m super sensitive to it.”
“It doesn’t look too bad. Are you sure you don’t want to treat it with over-the-counter remedies like antihistamines and calamine lotion?”
From the look on his face, she could immediately tell he didn’t like being second-guessed on medications.
“Sorry, of course, you’re the doctor,” she said, embarrassed by her goof. “When there’s no physician in town, people tend to come here for medical advice. Older people, especially, won’t travel out of town for an appointment if I can sell them a patent medicine to relieve their symptoms. Of course, I urge them to see a doctor most of the time.”
He was one of those people who could send messages with his eyes. Amy squirmed under the intense glare of his dark eyes and hurried to fill his prescription.
Ordinarily she would ask whether he had insurance for the prescription, but she was so jittery under his gaze she forgot. Fortunately, he had cash lying on the counter by the time she bagged his medication.
“I hope this helps,” she said, meaning to be polite.
“Do you doubt it will?” he asked.
Was he trying to intimidate her? She snapped out of her timid mode. If there was one thing she’d learned from friends who were nurses, it was that doctors could be bullies with their subordinates. Well, t
his newbie M.D. wasn’t going to get under her skin. She’d suggested a cheaper, safer way to treat his rash, and she didn’t need to apologize for it.
When she moved away without answering, he got the message.
“Sorry to snap at you,” he said. “This rash itches like crazy, and I have my first appointment in less than an hour. My patients won’t have much confidence in a doctor who’s scratching.”
“Good point,” Amy conceded.
“I didn’t ask how your head is,” he said in a more mellow tone.
“It’s fine, thank you.”
“Like I said before, I have to admit you’re the first maid of honor I’ve known who got hurt by a bouquet.” For someone who was tormented by itching, he didn’t seem in a hurry to leave.
She’d forgotten how tall he was. Bert should keep a wooden box for her to stand on behind the counter so she could deal with long, lanky customers who looked like movie stars on an eye-to-eye basis.
“If there’s anything I’ve learned working here, it’s that people can get hurt almost anywhere,” she said, resorting to chitchat to relieve her feeling of awkwardness. “My cousin’s new husband had a run-in with a fishing hook that nearly scuttled the honeymoon.”
She’d wanted to impress him with her worldly knowledge, but she instantly realized she shouldn’t have gossiped about something Mandy had told her in strict confidence.
“I know a little about that,” Dan said.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Sometimes the town’s mania for gossip rubs off on me.”
“I take it you won’t feel a need to broadcast my run-in with weeds.” He picked up his prescription and turned to leave.
“Of course not!” she snapped, more irritated at herself than him.
He did intimidate her — just a little — but not because he was drop-dead gorgeous or smart enough to be a physician. There was a big city aura surrounding him that made her feel like a country bumpkin. Why had he landed in their small community?
Oh yeah, it had to do with the town’s desperation for a doctor and the extremely high cost of getting through medical school. But that didn’t explain why a California hunk had landed in small-town Iowa. Her intuition told her he was going to spend a miserable two years fulfilling his obligation, but his attitude made her mad. Heart City was a nice place. Good people lived there. No one had the right to look down on them.
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