Читать книгу Kissed By The Country Doc - Melinda Curtis - Страница 11
ОглавлениеNOAH TRUDGED THROUGH the deepening snow to his cabin carrying a bag of dog food.
The limping dog trailed behind him.
A dog. One everyone thought was cute. And no one else would take him? Because he was lame?
It figured.
Noah was reminded of his father’s history of perfection. Every event in Noah’s life that fell short of his standards was met with a pronouncement of the man’s greatness.
You came in fourth in the relay race? My friends and I were state champs.
That’s your SAT math score? My math mark was seventy points higher than that on my first try.
His father had the highest expectations. He’d have taken one look at the laboring dog and contacted the closest animal-rescue facility.
The joke’s on you, Dad.
The truth was, the dog wouldn’t go with anyone else.
Darn dog didn’t know he’d made the wrong choice.
“Don’t expect much,” Noah told the dog when he reached the porch, because he’d been trained to have a polite bedside manner, even when he was in a foul mood.
The dog paused on the top step, panting. Snow clung to his shaggy golden hair as if it had been professionally frosted. His dark brown eyes, which peeked out from beneath overgrown bangs, were filled with things Noah didn’t want—love and trust. With those eyes, he was exactly the kind of dog that should appeal to someone like Ella.
“And don’t think this is permanent.” Noah gave the canine a stern look. “It’s just until you’re back on your feet.” He sighed, put his key in the lock and opened the door. “And now I’m talking to a dog.” Which, on second thought, might be an improvement. He’d been talking to himself since he’d gotten here.
He hurried inside, closed the door quickly behind them and just as hastily hung up his outerwear on hooks—knit cap, scarf, jacket. The dog sat at his feet, leg thrust out at an awkward angle.
“Did you forget we had an appointment, Doc?”
Noah jumped in the midst of removing his gloves. He quickly tugged them back in place and turned toward the corner, where the exam room was located. “I thought I locked the door.”
“You did.” A wiry old woman wearing a yellow knit cap over her coarse gray hair sat on the exam-room table, partially hidden by a privacy screen. “I know where the spare key is.”
Why don’t I know where the spare key is?
Noah’s pulse rate peaked, then began its descent into normal. Thankfully, the important stuff—the medicines and equipment—was locked in cabinets. He doubted there was a spare key to those, but he made a mental note to ask Mitch about keys regardless. “Odette, you don’t have an appointment today.” Or any day, for that matter.
The dog hobbled over and sniffed Odette’s feet, which were covered in red-and-blue hand-knit socks.
Odette patted the dog on the head. “Doc, dying patients need daily appointments.”
“You’re not dying.” She was just old and in need of some company. “Go back to your arts and crafts.”
She harrumphed, and then muttered, “Arts and crafts,” as if he’d referred to her quilting and knitting in a derogatory manner.
Which in hindsight, he might have. Her continued presence was getting on his nerves. His neighbor came by so often, she didn’t comment on his gloves anymore.
The dog sat at the base of the table and wagged his tail, more than willing to accept a visitor. Why couldn’t Noah have rescued a territorial guard dog?
“Doc Carter knew I was dying.” Odette huffed, thin shoulders slumping. “She was nice to me.”
Noah stalked over to the exam area, and grabbed the blood-pressure cuff and his stethoscope.
The canine panted and wagged his fluffy tail as if to say, You have to be nice to her, too, because she’s old and alone.
He scowled at the dog. “I’m paid to keep Second Chance residents healthy. Kindness is extra.”
The dog stopped panting, closed his mouth and stared at Noah in disbelief.
Noah shrugged and said to the dog, “Don’t look at me like that. Kindness never healed anybody.”
“Aha!” Odette fairly crowed with satisfaction. “You agree I’m down to my last days.”
“No. I was...” Talking to a dog because the isolation of Second Chance is getting to me?
That admission wouldn’t go over well. He wrapped the cuff around Odette’s arm with difficulty, relying on his left hand to pull it snug. He had to hand-pump the unit, because every piece of medical equipment in the cabin was at least ten years old and behind in technological advances. He still had to use an oral thermometer to take a patient’s temperature!
Odette went rigid, held her breath and leaned away from the cuff. “My brother always told me getting old was a chore.”
“Don’t tense up or we’ll have to do this again.”
“I’ll just look at your therapy dog.” Staring down, Odette visibly relaxed.
Noah felt her forehead—not hot—then relieved the pressure on the valve and watched the gauge fall.
“He has such sweet eyes. What’s his name?”
“Dog.” Noah removed the armband and picked up his stethoscope, instructing her to breathe deeply as he listened to her lungs. He checked her skin for elasticity. “Your blood pressure is normal. Your lungs are clear. You’re hydrated.” He retrieved her file from a drawer and dutifully logged the date, her numbers and his assessment—normal. Why did she insist she was on death’s door? “Are you having hurtful thoughts? Are you depressed? Is it hard to get up in the morning?”
“No, no and no.”
“Odette.” He gave the old woman his most serious expression, the one he used to use when he told sports stars they had to agree to an intense postsurgery therapy regime if they wanted him to operate. “I think you’ll live another day.”
Odette fell back on the exam table as if this was the worst news ever. “How can you say that?”
“Because you have no history of any disease and you walked over here through two feet of snow, not to mention you ascended an incline.” His was the highest cabin on this stretch of road. “If you were dying, the dog would’ve found you buried in a drift, not in here.” He took hold of Odette’s shoulder and raised her to a sitting position. “Come on. I’m sure you’ve got a project or two waiting for you at home.”
“I do.” She perked up, a smile revealing layers of wrinkles on her face. “I’m tackling homemaker quilt blocks today. Eight points plus four Y-seams. It’s very challenging.” She slid off the end of the table and walked to the bench where she’d left her snow boots and jacket, pausing to look out the big plate glass window to the buildings on the river side of the road. “There are visitors at the inn.”
“Yes.” He got out a towel and dried the dog off, taking his time before saying more. “The Monroes have arrived. Four of them. In a Hummer.”
“Roy will be happy.” Odette looked far from happy. “What are they like?”
“Why don’t you go see for yourself? I’m busy.” He picked up the paperback thriller he’d been reading for the last two months, sat down in his living room recliner and then glanced back at the dog.
As if released from the “stay” command, the shaggy beast came over and sat next to him, putting his muzzle on the arm of the chair and staring up at Noah with worshipful, big brown eyes.
There’s nothing left to worship here, big fella.
“You aren’t busy. You’re going to hold that book and then stare out at the valley like you and Roy do every day.” Because there were big picture windows in the north and east corners of the cabin, Odette had an unobstructed view of Noah’s front room from her small cabin to the north, as well as Roy’s, which was about fifty feet south of Noah’s. “Tell me about the Monroes.”
“If you’re curious, you know where to get your answers.” He extended the footrest on his recliner. “Or you can use those binoculars of yours.”
The dog inched closer, put a paw on Noah’s arm and kept moving forward, as if he’d inch his way right into Noah’s lap.
“Don’t even think about it.” Noah blocked him with an elbow.
“I can’t go down there with all those strangers.” Odette paced with sturdy, healthy steps.
“Don’t be such a drama queen. They’re checking into the inn. Go ask Ivy or Roy their impressions if you don’t want to see them.”
“You’re impossible. You and that dog. You’ll both be happy just staring out the window while this old lady withers in front of your very eyes.” Odette put on her jacket and her snow boots with vigor and then she was gone, slamming the door behind her.
Snow was beginning to fall. Noah watched Odette walk along the path she created to his cabin every day. She turned on her porch, made a rude gesture at him and then disappeared inside her home.
Then it was just Noah, the dog, the book whose plot he couldn’t remember and silence. It was in the daily silence of Second Chance that Noah missed practicing orthopedics, missed solving the puzzle of a body’s injury, missed the satisfaction of seeing patients hobble in and walk out months later.
His four-legged friend whined softly.
Noah wasn’t sure if it was from the desire to be in his lap or if the dog was in pain.
That leg...
“Come on, dog.” Noah removed his black gloves, went to the supply cabinet and rummaged around until he found a neoprene elbow brace with Velcro fasteners. He slid it clumsily on the dog’s injured back leg because neither the dog nor his weak right hand cooperated. Finally, he got it in place.
“I know what you need, but that brace will make walking easier.” Noah toggled through his phone until he pulled up a video of himself performing knee surgery on a basketball player, the basketball league’s rookie of the year from two years ago. His own alma mater had requested the rights to film the surgery to use to teach doctors. In the film, Noah’s hands moved with steady skill and smooth dexterity.
He tried to recreate the motions with his right hand—holding the knife, performing a precise cut, using a tendon stripper. His fingers felt feeble and clumsy, stretching the thick, jagged scars painfully. His hand curled into a shape Captain Hook would have been satisfied with, but one Noah hated.
Ella had acknowledged his gloved hands with nothing but a polite look. Such a non-reaction whereas every other woman he’d spent time with had made an issue of it.
Noah tossed his phone onto the coffee table and stared down at the dog. “What did it matter whether or not Ella made a big deal about the gloves?” She’d flinch away from the horrific scars on his hand, the same as any woman with any sense would.
The dog pushed his big head beneath Noah’s scarred right hand, unfazed by the ugliness of Noah’s flesh.
“I can’t help you, mutt,” Noah said, weaving his fingers into the soft golden fur at the back of the dog’s neck. “You tore your ACL.” And Noah was no longer a surgeon to the sports stars, not to mention he wasn’t an orthopedic veterinarian.
He stared out the window toward what he could see of the Sawtooth mountain range beneath the low clouds, pet the lost dog and watched the snow make everything in Second Chance look idyllic, when in fact it was anything but.
* * *
“KIDS! KIDS!” PENNY CRIED, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her face to the frosted glass. She wore a footed pink sleeper and a severe case of blond bedhead. “Sed, Mom. Sed.”
The road had disappeared beneath several feet of snow. The sun peeked through thinning gray clouds. Two stories below them, several children rode plastic sleds and inner tubes down a gentle slope beside the inn, one that plateaued long before reaching the river.
“Go see.” Coughing, Penny tugged Ella’s hand and faced the door, wanting out.
“We need clothes and food first.” If not breakfast, at least something in her stomach.
“Cos.” Penny dropped Ella’s hand and turned her attention to the sleeper’s zipper.
While she was occupied, Ella donned snow pants and a thick yellow sweatshirt, applying light makeup using the mirror in the cramped bathroom, which had barely enough space for a person to turn around in, but still managed to be charming. It had dark wood paneling and green fixtures from the forties—a pedestal sink, toilet and short bathtub-shower combo you could sit in if your knees were completely bent.
The log walls were similar to the walls of the home they’d be vacating in a few short weeks—round and yellow. The main room was small, too, with a queen bed framed with six-inch-diameter logs and dressed in a star quilt made with red and black blocks. The curtains were faded lace and didn’t block out any sunlight. It was quaint.
The kids outside shouted with joy.
“Cos,” Penny wailed, falling to her bottom on the thick carpet as she tried to peel herself out of the sleeper.
“I’ll help.” Ella made quick work of the sleeper, put a fresh diaper on her daughter and then dressed Penny in a pair of blue long johns to go under her pink snowsuit. “And now we brush hair and teeth.”
“Want sed, Mom. Want kids.” Penny ran back to the window to reassure herself the kids were still outside.
A half hour and a hurried start of coffee (for Ella), applesauce (for Penny) later, and the pair was outside in their snow gear, joined by Sophie and her two boys. The twins were already down at the bottom of the hill, having borrowed someone’s inner tube. Penny had stopped to make a snow angel nearby.
“Can I take Penny for a ride?” Gabby asked. She wore a purple jacket that made her pale red hair look blond. At Ella’s nod, the preteen put Penny in her lap and they tobogganed down the hill.
Penny’s joyful shriek combined with the hill full of happy children and the cocoon of being with Monroes made Ella want to sing with happiness. She wasn’t quite brave enough to belt out a tune in front of an audience, so she hummed, starting with Grandpa Harlan’s call to action, “Are you ready, Hezzie?”
“Now that we’re here, what’s your plan of attack?” Sophie didn’t take her eyes from her boys, who were prone to find trouble. “How are you going to evaluate the value of Second Chance in the middle of winter?”
“I have the plat map of the parcels before Grandpa Harlan purchased them and the deeds, but—” Ella waved to Penny “—I didn’t count on everything being buried in snow. I have to look at the state of each roof, the electrical, the plumbing.” And more. Ella sighed, not wanting to let down the family. “Do you think Shane will shovel a path to all the buildings for me?”
“He would if you told him we’d get out of town quicker.” Sophie pushed her sunglasses higher on her nose. She’d braided her light brown hair into two short pigtails that stuck out from either side of her knit cap like dangling earrings.
The wind kicked up powder, sending it swirling around their feet.
“Sophie, did you notice Grandpa Harlan wrote that letter around the time Bryce died?”
“I did, but...” Sophie gripped Ella’s arm. “What are you thinking?”
“That I... That Bryce’s and my situation or the way we blindsided the family...”
Sophie squinted at her. “That you’re the reason Grandpa Harlan had us all fired?”
Ella nodded.
“Just like a Monroe.” Sophie hugged Ella fiercely. “Listen, Grandpa Harlan was Grandpa Harlan right up until the very end. He made sure we’d remember him forever.” She released Ella, but held on to one of her hands. “You are not to blame. But it still stinks. It’s times like these—when I’m unemployed and about to be homeless—that I wonder if I made the right decision getting a divorce.”
“You did.” Sophie’s ex-husband had been a piece of work. Ella spared her a glance. “I meant to ask how your date went last week.”
“What a disaster.” Sophie shook her head. “The guy didn’t know the difference between a Picasso and a Matisse. One of the boys swiped my lipstick out of my purse and left me a toy car instead. And my cell phone died so I couldn’t even pretend to receive an emergency text from you.”
“But...was there any chemistry between you?” Ella tucked the memory of a chemical reaction to a doctor’s soulful blue eyes to the back of her mind.
“Chemistry?” Sophie’s bare hands fluttered in the crisp air before she stuck them back in her deep pockets. “I don’t have the energy for chemistry or any of your love-at-first-sight luck. I’m just looking for someone who shares the same interests that I do.”
A big gray truck with a snowplow attachment on the front stopped on the road nearby. Three boys tumbled out, dropped backpacks in the snow and raced to join their friends. The woman driving the truck waved and drove slowly on, clearing a path on the road and making a wide turn at the crossroads to return the way she’d come.
“Now there’s a woman after my own heart.” Sophie’s cheeks were red from the cold. “She has three boys and she plowed a path to a sled hill to keep peace in the family.”
“Your boys are angels.” Ella stomped her feet to keep her toes warm, nearly missing Sophie’s raised eyebrows. “Okay, they’re angels and a caution.”
Gabby took Penny’s hand and began the climb back to the top, dragging her blue plastic sled behind her. The twins were trying to tug the inner tube away from one another.
“Alexander! Andrew!” Sophie yelled. “Share or we’ll go inside.”
The twins tried once more to wrest the inner tube free, and then climbed up the slope together, holding it between them.
“Mitch mentioned something about the passes to civilization being closed.” Sophie’s gaze was still on her boys. “What happens if someone needs the emergency room?”
“Maybe that’s why they have a doctor in town.” Ella had successfully avoided thinking about the handsome doctor for longer than ten seconds—thirty, tops—all morning. Now she recalled the firm muscle of his leg and blushed. “I was more worried about having enough food and heat if we were snowed in. How long did Mitch say the passes will be closed?”
“Five days.” Sophie frowned. “Or was it ten?”
Ten days? Ella hoped Penny’s cough went away.
Gabby and Penny reached the rise where Sophie and Ella stood just as a man rang a bell at the top of the hill. “Who’s coming to school today?”
“You have optional school here?” Ella asked Gabby.
“We have independent study, but yeah, Mr. Garland is available to help us for a few hours every day, so it feels more like regular school.” Gabby shrugged. “At least, what I expect regular school is like.”
“You’ve never been to a traditional school?” Sophie asked, brown eyes wide behind her glasses.
“Nope. My dad moved me here when I was less than a year old.” Gabby positioned the sled at the top for another ride down, sat on the blue plastic and then helped Penny into her lap. “Last ride before school, Penny.”
“Schoo?” Penny rolled off Gabby’s lap onto the packed snow. “I go schoo.” She got to her feet and reached for the girl’s hand. “I go.”
“Okay.” Gabby stood, braces on display as she smiled. “You can help me with math.”
“I don’t think so,” Ella said gently. “Penny’s too young for school.” Not to mention she’d be a distraction to the learning environment.
Penny pouted, crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, “I go.”
“No,” Ella said, just as gently and firmly as the first time.
Sophie’s twins leaped on the blue sled and barreled down the hill, screaming in delight. When they reached the bottom, they fell over sideways and tried to pelt each other with snow.
“I wish my boys were interested in school,” Sophie murmured.
“Mr. Garland won’t mind.” Gabby swung Penny into her arms. “At least let her come see.”
Penny stuck out her lip at Ella.
“Okay.” Ella relented, clearly beaten. “Are you coming, Sophie?”
“Not yet.” Sophie waved off Ella. “I’m going to stay and let the boys burn off some energy.”
They stopped for Gabby’s laptop and schoolbooks, and then followed the other children to the Bent Nickel, saying good morning to Mitch, who was clearing a path from the inn to the coffee shop with a snowblower.
Second Chance’s schoolteacher was younger than Ella expected—in his midthirties—and attractive, although looking in his eyes didn’t make Ella feel much of anything.
Penny claimed a seat at a table with Gabby, her chin level with the tabletop, her green eyes wide as she watched the other children.
“I’m working on the great American novel,” Mr. Garland said to Ella. “In between hiking and fishing and teaching a bunch of bright kids, of course.”
“Which means his book will never be finished.” Gabby smiled widely when Mr. Garland raised his eyebrows at her. “Which is great, because I wouldn’t want any other teacher. Don’t you agree, guys?”
The other children, all younger than Gabby, agreed.
Mr. Garland smiled. “Gabby has great leadership qualities.”
“Thank you, Mr. Garland,” Gabby intoned as if by rote.
“And a healthy dose of sarcasm,” her teacher added. “Which we love her for.”
“Snark is free of charge.” Gabby opened her laptop. “That’s what my dad always says.”
“Okay, Penny, honey. Let’s go.” Ella gave Mr. Garland an apologetic smile. “The kids have school.”
“No.” Penny’s lower lip jutted out. She waved off Ella, which broke her heart. Her daughter rarely rejected her. “Go, Mom. Go.”
The schoolteacher produced a coloring page and crayons. “She’ll be fine here for a bit. It’s good to foster some independence early.”
“But...she hasn’t even been to preschool.” Which made Ella sound like one of those helicopter moms she’d heard so much about, hovering over her child 24/7.
The other children and Ivy reassured Ella they’d watch out for Penny.
“Thirty minutes,” Ella said, relenting. Besides, Penny would need some independence when Ella returned to work. Now was as good a time as any to start. “And then we’ll order a hot breakfast for you.”
Ella hurried back to the inn to get her paperwork on the town properties. She’d looked at it a few times since receiving it and had told Shane she thought there were transaction documents missing. She didn’t have any paperwork on a few of the buildings, most notably the fur-trading post and the mercantile. If Grandpa Harlan owned everything in town, why didn’t she have recent documents for every property in Second Chance?
When she returned downstairs, Mitch was sitting behind the inn’s check-in counter staring at his computer screen. Shane was drinking coffee in front of the fire. The fact that they weren’t talking made the air crackle with tension.
“Where are you off to?” Shane sounded crankier than Penny when she’d been told she couldn’t go to school. Having lived in Las Vegas and run hotels for years, she guessed he wasn’t a morning person.
“I have twenty minutes to begin the property inventory before I have to pick up Penny.” She waved the plat map and left before Shane could ask if he could come. She couldn’t afford to lose time waiting for him to get moving. On the way out, she absently registered Mitch’s odd, almost panicked expression. She chalked it up to something he’d seen on the computer screen.
Ella walked from the inn to the diner, getting her bearings on the map. And then she came upon a dead end. There was no more sidewalk. At least, not one that had been shoveled. There were at least four more buildings on her side of the highway, which... Hey there—the highway had been plowed. She slogged her way through knee-high drifts of snow to reach the cleared highway and then walked north.
The morning was still overcast, and the wind swirled around her like a champion skater.
The next building contained three small storefronts with large plate glass windows and signs that each posted a variation of Reopening in Spring. She’d have to walk through twenty feet of snow to reach the porch.
Um, no.
Best limit this trip to a scouting mission and use her impressions to form a plan of attack. She looked farther north. There were supposed to be four houses or cabins perched on the river side of the road.
Ella consulted the plat map and then surveyed the area. “Why are there only three?” Had she read the map wrong?
The wind tugged at the map.
She tried to hold the paper taut in the air, but doing so only made it billow like a sail. She switched tactics and tried holding it over her thighs, which worked better. Except... Where was she on the map again? She turned around slowly, trying to draw reference from snow-covered landmarks and—
A big gust of wind pushed her backward into a snowdrift, which, all things considered, wasn’t as bad as it seemed. She was protected from the wind and realized the plot across from the missing home had a cabin perched high above the road.
“Aha!” She laughed and tried to stand.
Except, instead of getting to her feet, she sank deeper in the snow and then began to slide backward down the hill toward the river, her stadium coat acting like a soft-sided sled and her head cutting through nature’s snow cone like a shark’s fin cut through water. She didn’t slide fast, but the incline was steep enough that her flailing arms and legs didn’t stop her. Snow clung to the nape of her neck and pushed the knit cap off her head. She slid and slid and slid until her back connected with something solid and she came to a halt, although her heart kept beating as if she was running a race.
If not for the big cold rock at her back, Ella might have plunged in the river. She could hear its throaty gurgle alarmingly close. Her knit cap and property papers were halfway up the hill.
It had all happened so fast. Epiphany. Laughter. Disaster.
Her heart rate began to steady and the cold continued to spread, starting with her neck and her toes and working toward her core.
Cold. So hard to shake regardless of whether you were indoors without heat, or outdoors facing a locked door.
Panic had her jackknifing and scrambling to get her boots beneath her. One leg sunk in the drift to her knee. The other got tangled in the long hem of her stadium jacket. Snow tumbled down the collar of her sweatshirt, making her shiver.
