Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
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Copyright
The Doctor’s Secret
By Heidi Cullinan
Copper Point Medical: Book One
The brilliant but brooding new doctor encounters Copper Point’s sunny nurse-next-door… and nothing can stand in the way of this romance.
Dr. Hong-Wei Wu has come to Copper Point, Wisconsin, after the pressures of a high-powered residency burned him out of his career before he started. Ashamed of letting his family down after all they’ve done for him, he plans to live a quiet life as a simple surgeon in this tiny northern town. His plans, however, don’t include his outgoing, kind, and attractive surgical nurse, Simon Lane.
Simon wasn’t ready for the new surgeon to be a handsome charmer who keeps asking him for help getting settled and who woos him with amazing Taiwanese dishes. There’s no question—Dr. Wu is flirting with him, and Simon is flirting back. The problem is, St. Ann’s has a strict no-dating policy between staff, which means their romance is off the table… unless they bend the rules.
But a romance that keeps them—literally—in the closet can’t lead to happy ever after. Simon doesn’t want to stay a secret, and Hong-Wei doesn’t want to keep himself removed from life, not anymore. To secure their happiness, they’ll have to change the administration’s mind. But what other secrets will they uncover along the way, about Copper Point… and about each other?
For Kwanna Jackson
Acknowledgments
THANKS FIRST and foremost to Dan Cullinan, who put up with ten million medical questions and was the only reason I was able to say, “Yes, I can do a medical trilogy.”
Thank you to Tracy Cheuk and to the commenters on the Formosa forums, who kindly helped me make Hong-Wei more accurate and gave me insight into his life.
Thank you to Anna Cullinan and her mad mapmaking skills, which not only made Copper Point feel more real, but kept me from sending people in ten different directions.
Thank you to Elizabeth North for helping me dream up Copper Point and giving it a home at Dreamspinner Press.
Thank you to my patrons who kept me company as I drafted this work, who peeked at early drafts, and as always gave me the life and love I needed to keep going. Thank you especially to Rosie M, Pamela Bartual, Marie, and Sarah Plunkett.
Thank you to my readers, whether you have just found me or have been along for the ride for all ten years. Let’s make stories for thirty more.
Chapter One
DR. HONG-WEI Wu cracked as he boarded the plane to Duluth.
He’d distracted himself on the first leg of the flight from Houston with a few drinks and the medical journal he’d brought in his bag. He nibbled at the in-flight meal, raising his eyebrow at their “Asian noodles” beneath a microwaved chicken breast.
He realized how long it would be until he ate his sister’s or his grandmother’s cooking again, and his chest tightened, but he pushed his feelings aside and focused on the article about the effects of perioperative gabapentin use on postsurgical pain in patients undergoing head and neck surgery.
When he disembarked at Minneapolis to transfer to his final destination, the reality of what Hong-Wei was about to do bloomed before him, but he faced it with a whiskey neat in an airport bar. Unquestionably he’d require some adjustments, but he’d make it work. If he could succeed at Baylor, he could succeed at a tiny hospital in a remote town in northern Wisconsin.
Except you didn’t succeed. You panicked, you let your family down, and you ran away.
The last of the whiskey chased that nagging bit of truth out of his thoughts, and when he stood in line for priority boarding for his last flight, he was sure he had himself properly fortified once again.
Then he stepped onto the plane.
It had fewer than twenty rows, and either he was imagining things, or those were propellers on the wings. Was that legal? It had to be a mistake. This couldn’t be a commercial plane. Yet no, there was a flight attendant with the airline’s logo on his lapel, and the people behind Hong-Wei held tickets, acting as if this was all entirely normal.
He peered around an elderly couple to speak to the flight attendant. “Sir? Excuse me? Where is first class?”
The attendant gave Hong-Wei an apologetic look that meant nothing but bad news. “They downgraded the plane at the last minute due to low passenger load, so there isn’t technically a first-class section. You should have received a refund on your ticket. If you didn’t, contact customer service right away when we land.”
Hong-Wei hadn’t received a refund, as he hadn’t been the one to buy the ticket. The hospital had. He fought to keep his jaw from tightening. “So these are the seats?” They were the most uncomfortable-looking things he’d ever seen, and he could tell already his knees were going to be squeezed against the back of the person ahead of him. “Can I at least upgrade to an exit row?”
The attendant gave him an even more apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, those seats are sold out. But I can offer you complimentary drinks and an extra bag of peanuts.”
An extra bag of peanuts.
As Hong-Wei stared at his narrow seat on the plane that would take him to the waiting arms of his escorts from St. Ann’s Medical Center, the walls of doubt and insecurity he’d held back crushed down upon him.
You shouldn’t have left Houston. What were you thinking? It’s bad enough you ran, throwing away everything your family sacrificed for. Why did you take this job? Why not any of the other prestigious institutions that offered for you? Why didn’t you at least remain close to home?
You’re a failure. You’re a disgrace to your family. How will you ever face them again?
“Excuse me, but do you mind if I slip past?”
Hong-Wei looked down. A tiny elderly white woman smiled up at him, her crinkled blue eyes clouded by cataracts. She wore a bright yellow pantsuit, clutching a handbag of the same color.
Breaking free of his terror-stricken reverie, Hong-Wei stepped aside. “Pardon me. I was startled, was all. I wasn’t expecting such a small plane.”
The woman waved a hand airily as she shuffled into her seat. “Oh, they always stuff us into one of these puddle jumpers on the way to Duluth. This is big compared to the last one I was on.”
They made commercial planes smaller than this? Hong-Wei suppressed a shudder.
With an exhale of release, the woman eased into the window seat in her row.
More people were piling into the plane now, and Hong-Wei had become an obstacle by standing in the aisle. Consigning himself to his fate, he stowed his carry-on and settled into the seat, wincing as he arranged his knees. When he finished, his seatmate was smiling expectantly at him, holding out her hand.
“Grace Albertson. Pleasure to meet you.”
The last thing he wanted was conversation, but he didn’t want to be rude, especially to someone her age. Forcing himself not to grimace, he accepted her hand. “Jack Wu. A pleasure to meet you as well.”
Ms. Albertson’s handshake was strong despi
te some obvious arthritis. “So where are you from, Jack?”
Hong-Wei matched Ms. Albertson’s smile. “Houston. And yourself?”
“Oh, I grew up outside of St. Peter, but now I live in Eden Prairie. I fly up to Duluth regular, though, to see my great-granddaughter.” She threaded her fingers over her midsection. “Houston, you say. So you were born here? In the United States, I mean.”
“I was born in Taiwan. My family moved here when I was ten.”
“Is that so? That would make you… well, do they call you first- or second-generation? Bah, I don’t know about that stuff.” She laughed and dusted wrinkled hands in the air. “My grandmother came here when she was eighteen, a new bride. Didn’t speak a word of English. She learned, but if she got cross with you, she started speaking Norwegian. We always wondered if she was swearing at us.” Ms. Albertson lifted her eyebrows at Hong-Wei. “You speak English quite nicely. But then I suppose you learned it growing up?”
“I studied in elementary school and with private tutors, but I struggled a bit when I first arrived.”
What an understatement that was. It was good Hong-Su wasn’t here. Even Ms. Albertson’s status as an elder wouldn’t have protected her from his sister’s lecture on why it wasn’t okay to ask Asian Americans where they were from. Though simply thinking of Hong-Su reminded him he wouldn’t be going home to her tonight to complain about another white person asking him where he was from.
Have I made a terrible mistake?
Ms. Albertson nodded sagely. “Well, it’s a credit to you. I never learned any language but English, though my mother told me I should learn Norwegian and talk to my grandmother properly. I took a year of it in high school, but I’m ashamed to tell you I barely passed the course and can’t remember but three or four words of the language now. You must have worked hard to speak as well as you do. I wouldn’t know but that you were born here, from the way you talk.”
Before Hong-Wei could come up with a polite reply, a bag hit him in the side of his head. A steadier stream of passengers had begun to board the plane, and a middle-aged, overweight businessman’s shoulder bag thudded against every seat as the man shuffled an awkward sideways dance down the narrow aisles. Either he didn’t realize he’d hit Hong-Wei or didn’t care, because he continued single-mindedly on… to the exit row.
Well, for that alone, Hong-Wei resented him.
His seatmate clucked her tongue. “Some people have no manners. Is your head all right? Poor dear. Let me have a look at it.”
Definitely a grandmother. Hong-Wei bit back a smile and held up his hands. “I’m fine, but thank you. It’s close quarters in here. I think a few bumps are bound to happen.” Hong-Wei was glad, however, he was in the aisle and not the frail Ms. Albertson.
“Well, scooch in closer, then, so you don’t get hit anymore.” She patted his leg. “I’ll show you pictures of the grandchildren and great-grandchildren I’m flying north to see.”
Not knowing what else to do, Hong-Wei leaned closer and made what he hoped were appropriate noises as Grace Albertson fumbled through her phone’s photo album.
He was rescued when the flight attendant announced they were closing the flight door, and a series of loudspeaker announcements meant for the next several minutes conversation was impossible, so outside of Hong-Wei’s polite decline of Ms. Albertson’s offer of a hard candy, he settled into silence.
The engines were loud as they taxied on the runway, so loud he couldn’t have listened to music even if he had headphones. He wished he’d bought some in the Minneapolis airport, or better yet had made sure to pack some in his carry-on. He supposed he could ask for a headset from the flight attendant, but they were always such poor quality, he’d rather do without.
Headphones were just one thing he should have prepared for. He’d rushed into this without thinking, full of the fury and headstrong nonsense Hong-Su always chided him for. It had felt so important to break away when he’d been in Houston, pressed down by everything. Here, now, with the roar of takeoff in his ears, with nothing but this last flight between him and his destiny, he didn’t feel that sense of rightness at all. He had none of the confidence that had burned so strongly in him, fueling his wild reach into the beyond.
I can be a doctor anywhere, he’d told himself defiantly as he made the decision to take this job. I can do surgery in Houston, Texas, Cleveland, Ohio, or Copper Point, Wisconsin. The farther away I am from the mess I made, the better.
Trapped, helpless in this plane, his defiance was gone, as was his confidence.
What have I done?
He was so consumed by dissolving into dread he forgot about his seatmate until they were in the air, the engines settling down, the plane leveling out slightly as Ms. Albertson pressed something that crinkled into his palm. He glanced down at the candy, then over at her.
She winked. “It’s peppermint. It’ll calm you. Or, it’ll at least give you something to suck on besides your tongue.”
Feeling sheepish, this time Hong-Wei accepted the candy. “Thank you.”
She patted his leg. “I don’t know what’s waiting for you in Duluth that has you in such knots, but take it from someone whose life has knotted and unknotted itself more than a few times: it won’t be as bad as you think it is, most likely. It’ll either be perfectly fine, or so much worse, and in any event, there’s not much you can do at this point, is there, except your best.”
The peppermint oil burst against his tongue, seeping into his sinuses. He took deep breaths, rubbing the plastic of the wrapper between his fingers. Any other time he would say nothing. Here on the plane, though, he couldn’t walk away, and he had no other means to escape the pressure of the panic inside him.
Talking about it a little couldn’t hurt.
“I worry perhaps I didn’t make the right choice in coming here.”
He braced for her questions, for her to ask what he meant by that, to ask for more details about his situation or who the people saying such things were, but she said only, “When you made the choice, weren’t you sure you were right?”
Hong-Wei sucked on the peppermint as he considered how to reply. “I didn’t exactly make a reasoned choice about my place of employment. I all but threw a dart at a map.”
Ms. Albertson laughed. “Well, that explains why you’re so uneasy now. But you still had a reason for doing what you did. Why did you throw a dart at a map instead of making a reasoned decision?”
His panic crested, then to his surprise rolled away under the force of the question, and Hong-Wei chased the last vestiges to the corners of his mind as he rolled the candy around with his tongue. “Because it didn’t matter where I went. Everything was going to be the same. Except I thought… I hoped… if I went somewhere far enough away, somewhere as unlike the place where I’d been as I could possibly get, maybe it would be different.”
“Ah.” She smiled. “You’re one of those. An idealist. Just like my late husband. But you’re proud too, so you don’t want anyone to know.”
Hong-Wei rubbed at his cheek. “That’s what my sister says. That I’m too proud, and my idealism holds me down.”
“Nothing to be ashamed of. We need idealists in the world. No doubt wherever you’re going needs them too. Good for you for taking a leap. Don’t worry too much about it. Even if it’s a disaster, you’ll figure it out, and you’ll make it work.”
“Except I don’t want it to be a disaster. I want to make it right, somehow.” He thought of his family, who had regarded him with such concern when he’d said he was leaving. I want to become someone they can be proud of, instead of the failure I am now.
“Of course you don’t. No one wants trouble. Sometimes a little bit of it isn’t as bad as we think.” Covering her mouth to stifle a yawn, she settled into her seat. “You have to take risks. You’ll never win anything big if you don’t.”
As his seatmate began to doze, Hong-Wei stared at the seat ahead of him, her advice swimming in his head. Take a risk. Without m
eaning to, he’d subliminally internalized this philosophy by accepting this job and moving here. The trouble came with his logical brain trying to catch up.
His whole life, all Hong-Wei had done was study and work. He’d been at the top of his class in high school, as an undergraduate, and through medical school. He’d been praised throughout his residency and fellowship and courted for enviable positions by hospitals from well beyond Baylor’s scope before any of his peers had begun to apply. A clear, practical map for his future had presented itself to him.
He still couldn’t articulate, even to himself, why he’d leapt from that gilded path into this wild brush, navigable only by dubious commercial jet.
Coming to Copper Point—the town seeking a surgeon the farthest north on the map, a town nowhere near any other hospitals or cities of any kind—felt like an escape that settled his soul. He knew nothing about Wisconsin. Something about cheese, he thought he’d heard. What it felt like to Hong-Wei was a clean slate.
Would it truly be different, though? Certainly it wouldn’t be Baylor, but would it be different in the right way?
Grace Albertson had called him an idealist with a smile. Hong-Su had always chided him for it. What he needed from Copper Point was some kind of signal that they valued him, idealism and all. That they appreciated the fact that he could have gone anywhere in the country but he’d chosen them. An indication that here might be the place he could find himself, make something of himself. One small sign to show they understood him. It didn’t seem too much to ask.
Ms. Albertson woke as the plane landed, and Hong-Wei helped her gather her things, then escorted her down the long walkway to the terminal and out through security.
“You seem to have found some of your confidence while I napped,” she observed.
He wasn’t sure about that. “I’ve decided to accept my fate, let’s say.”
She nodded in approval. “Remember, mistakes are the spice of life. If you arrive and it’s a disaster, embrace it. I promise you, whatever you find when you land, if you’re lucky enough to get to my age, when you look back at it from your twilight years, you’ll think of it fondly, so long as you approach it with the right spirit.”
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