The Doctor and the Single Mom Read online

  Those words worked on his nerves like something in his eye that wouldn’t come out. Everyone he’d seen today had said it and in exactly the tone Jill used, the one that put him in the same slimy subspecies as the physician who’d run out on her and the rest of the town.

  “There you are, Doctor.”

  He looked up from the stack of charts on his desk. Mercy Medical Clinic’s nurse stood in the doorway. “Hi, Ginny.”

  “It’s Virginia.”

  Apparently only to him, because everyone who wasn’t gum on the bottom of her shoe called her Ginny. Somewhere in her late fifties or early sixties, she had silver hair cut in a pixie, blue eyes that missed nothing and no filter between her brain and her mouth. At least one knew where one stood with her. In his case, he was pretty sure she wished he was standing in Alaska. She was short on stature and long on attitude.

  “Can I ask you something, Virginia?”

  “Thought doctors knew everything. Like God.” She folded her arms over her chest, and the body language felt like a yes to his question, so he continued.

  “We just pretend to know everything. It makes the patients feel better.” Maybe self-deprecation would thaw her out.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Maybe not so much. “As a boy I spent a lot of summers here in Blackwater Lake and folks seemed a lot friendlier.”

  She looked down at him. “We’re not in the habit of being mean to kids, especially ones who are visiting.”

  “So the friendly pill wears off when that kid grows up and moves here?”

  “Something like that.”

  He was the new guy and she knew this clinic and everyone who used it inside and out, by all accounts an excellent nurse who would be difficult to replace. So he hid his frustration when he asked, “Can you be more specific?”

  The gaze she leveled at him could laser a person’s heart out. “It would help if you looked less like the good-looking actor in that space movie and more like Quasimodo.”

  Huh? There was a compliment in there somewhere, but he’d need a scalpel to remove it. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

  “Then I’ll explain.” She moved farther into the room. “If you were ugly as a mud fence and didn’t rent a place from Jill Beck, folks here in town would give you the benefit of the doubt. But that’s not the case. The last doctor—”

  “Didn’t stick,” he interrupted. “Jill mentioned that.”

  “She’s one of ours,” the nurse continued. “Her mother was my best friend since third grade. The last thing I said to Dottie before she died was that I’d watch out for her little girl and her grandson.”

  Adam remembered what Brewster had said and figured Virginia and the patients he’d seen today were some of the folks who’d be a whole lot not happy if Jill got hurt.

  “What happened to her mom?” he asked.

  “Breast cancer.” The woman’s mouth pulled tight as if her lips would tremble without the control.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  “The thing is, you don’t need to protect Jill from me,” Adam assured her.

  “Uh-huh.”

  The sarcastic tone said there was nothing he could say to convince her, so he wasn’t going to waste his breath trying. “Did you want something?” At her blank look, he added, “You were looking for me?”

  “Right.” The puzzled expression disappeared. “You’ve got one more patient. Little boy with a fever and sore throat. His daddy sweet-talked Liz into letting him come by.”

  Liz Carpenter was the clinic receptionist, a pretty young woman who apparently didn’t need protecting from the big, bad outsider.

  “Is he here?” Adam asked.

  “Exam room one,” the nurse answered.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “He’s ready for you.” She turned and left his office.

  It had been a warm, September day in Blackwater Lake, Montana, but Adam felt like digging out his winter parka before seeing the patient. He left his office and walked back down the hall. Exam one was the farthest away and the others were empty, so it wasn’t hard to do the math. New doctor hazing, with a generous dose of warning tossed in.

  He pulled the chart from the plastic holder on the wall beside the door and read the patient’s name. Tyler Dixon. The last name was familiar.

  Before going in he read the medical information. Tyler was six, about the same age as C. J. Beck. Not allergic to anything. An otherwise healthy boy with a sore throat and fever. His father was Cabot Dixon, and Adam grinned as he walked inside.

  The dark-haired, dark-eyed little guy sitting on the exam table looked exactly like the boy his father had been when Adam had met him years ago. The Dixons owned the ranch where he’d gone to camp every summer and the two had become friends.

  He held out his hand. “Cab, it’s good to see you again.”

  “Adam.” The other man’s smile was sincere and friendly, a first for the day. “Heard you moved here, but didn’t think I’d have to see you in a professional way so soon.”

  “Your boy’s not feeling well?”

  “This is Tyler.”

  “I didn’t wanna miss school, but my froat hurts,” the child informed him. “And I don’t like shots.”

  “Me either.” Adam smiled as he studied the boy’s feverish eyes and flushed cheeks. “Would it be okay if I just take a peek in your throat?”

  “Just look?” The boy didn’t trust him, but that had nothing to do with Jill Beck and everything to do with being six years old.

  “I want to feel your neck, too, but it won’t hurt.”

  “Promise?”

  Adam crossed his heart and held up his palm. “Word of honor.”

  “Okay.”

  Beside the exam table on a metal tray, nurse Virginia had put out some things. He picked up the wooden tongue blade and the handheld light and told Tyler to say “ah.” Then he ran his fingers over the boy’s neck and asked the father, “Has he had a cough or runny nose?”

  “No.”

  Adam took the stethoscope from around his neck and listened to the small chest and back. “Strong heartbeat. Good bilateral breath sounds. No wheezing from upper or lower lobes of the lungs,” he said.

  “What is it, Adam?”

  “My guess is strep throat. It usually shows up late fall to spring, so this is early, but symptoms are classic, including yellow patches on the back of his throat. I’ll swab it and we can do a rapid strep test to confirm.”

  After Cabot nodded approval, Adam promised the little guy a “good boy” toy, then rubbed a cotton swab in the back of his throat. When Virginia came into the room he asked her to do the test on the sample and Tyler went with her to pick out his reward. That gave Adam a chance to talk to the man who’d befriended him when they were boys.

  “Don’t worry, Cab. It’s not serious. Strep usually goes away without treatment and only rarely turns into something more serious. I’ll give you a prescription for an antibiotic, but it’s just a precaution.”

  “That’s a relief.” The rugged man clearly had a soft spot where his son was concerned, and that was as it should be. “Anything else I should do?”

  “Make sure Ty gets over-the-counter meds for the fever and lots of fluids—soda in moderation, popsicles, juice and water.” But Adam wondered about Cabot’s wife. It was most often the mother who came in with a sick child. “So, when did you get married?”

  “Six years, eight months ago.” There was no mistaking the anger that slid, hot and intense, into those dark eyes. “And I got divorced right after Ty was born because she walked out. Left me with an infant and no idea how to take care of him. Still, he’s the best thing she gave me and I have to thank her for him. Just an FYI, don’t bring a city girl to Blackwater Lake. If y
ou want to be happy for the rest of your life, make a local girl your wife.”

  “Had a wife once,” Adam said. “Don’t want another one, thanks.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “No. You?”

  “No.” His friend smiled. “So, how’s Blackwater Lake treating you?”

  “Like a leper,” he admitted.

  “I heard you rented Jill Beck’s apartment.”

  “Guilty. And apparently that’s a hanging offense as far as people in this town are concerned, because I haven’t even screwed up yet.”

  Cabot shrugged. “You’re paying the price for the doctor who rented her place and then charmed and harmed her. Folks don’t like it when an outsider dumps on one of their own.”

  “She’s safe from me,” Adam protested. “I just want to be part of the community. End of story. Honest.”

  “I believe you.” The other man’s expression was amused and sympathetic. “But you’ll never belong until you prove you’re not going to ‘do Jill wrong.’”

  “Tell me how to convince folks and I’ll do it.” Adam figured he’d take all the help he could get, especially from someone who knew the locals.

  “You’re on your own with that.”

  Before he could say more, Tyler came back into the room to show off his toy car and Adam was no closer to solving his problem. He liked Jill. He was attracted to her, but starting something was problematic. A single mom in Blackwater Lake would want promises and vows, and that was something he’d never do again.

  To start anything he had no intention of following through on would make him no better than the last doctor, which would only drive the wedge deeper between him and the community. He didn’t get through medical school being stupid, so somehow he’d find a way to live under her roof and not complicate the situation by getting personal.

  The best approach was to take the advice he so often gave his patients. Give it time. Unfortunately, he wasn’t patient.

  * * *

  Potter’s Ice Cream Parlor wasn’t busy on a weeknight now that the kids had returned to school from summer vacation. Jill was filling in for her friend Maggie and it was kind of a relief to be here as opposed to her own house where she couldn’t stop thinking about Adam Stone and the fact that only a ceiling separated them. Glancing at the display case, she made sure none of the ice cream flavors needed a refill. Beside it, all the sundae toppings, including nuts, crushed candy and fruit, were all full.

  In front of the counter, all the cute little chairs with heart-shaped backs were tucked neatly under circular tables. The walls were filled with brightly colored prints of candy sprinkles, nuts and cherries. Right behind the cash register was a photo of Maggie Potter and her husband, Dan, in his Army National Guard uniform, hugging and happy on the day they’d opened this place a couple of years ago. Now her husband was dead and Maggie was dealing with everything by herself. Jill was going to help as best she could.

  There wasn’t much to do, so she grabbed a damp rag and started to wipe down the stainless-steel counters. With her back to the front door she relied on the old-fashioned bell above it to alert her to a customer. When it rang she turned to see who was there.

  “Hey, you two.” She smiled at Norm and Diane Schurr, friends of her mom. He was about six feet five and thin, with white hair. His blonde wife was about a foot shorter and always watching her weight. “What’ll you have?”

  “Three scoops of vanilla in a cup with caramel and nuts,” Norm said.

  Like the retired school teacher she was, Diane gave him a stern look. “You’re supposed to be watching your cholesterol.”

  “Okay, then,” her husband said good-naturedly, “make it two scoops.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake.” His wife laughed and shook her head. “I’ll have the nonfat cookies ’n’ cream yogurt—a small.”

  “Coming right up.” While Jill worked on filling their order she asked, “What’s new?”

  “Not much with us, but Brewster Smith says you filled your vacancy. Mercy Medical Clinic’s new doctor.” Diane’s gaze was full of warning.

  “It’s true.” Gosh darn it.

  “The doctor is very good-looking,” the woman added.

  “You’ve met him?” Jill handed over Norm’s sundae above the high glass of the display case.

  “Had an appointment today for my checkup,” he answered.

  “We both did,” his wife said. “The thing is, sweetheart, you shouldn’t let a pretty face tempt you into letting your guard down again.”

  “Don’t worry.” She turned to the yogurt dispenser and depressed the handle to let the creamy stuff make a volcano-shaped mound in the cup. “Even if I weakened, I know I can count on good friends like you to pull me back from the edge.”

  “Darn right,” Norm said.

  “That’ll be seven dollars and three cents,” she said.

  Norm put down his cup and reached for his wallet. “It’s too bad.”

  “I know, but Maggie wouldn’t make any money if the order was free,” Jill teased.

  “Not that,” he said, waving away her words with a twenty-dollar bill in his hand. “It’s a shame you can’t go after the doc. He seems like a real nice young man.”

  So did the last doctor, until he left. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, Jill thought.

  After handing over change, she said, “So, how did your appointment go? You guys doing okay?”

  “Pretty good,” the man answered. “I’m not gettin’ any younger, but I got a strong body. Doc said it’s like a muscle car. If you put junk in the tank, you’re gonna get a junk performance.”

  “So you have three scoops of ice cream,” his wife said wryly.

  “Only two, dear.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “Dr. Stone told us we have the time to take care of ourselves because we’re retired. We want to enjoy it.”

  “Of course you do.” Who wouldn’t? Jill thought. She just couldn’t imagine leisure time for herself. Ever.

  There were bills to pay and a son to raise, plus a little bit to put away for the college fund he would need someday. She barely scraped by now and only had herself to depend on. The idea of not working was a luxury she couldn’t even think about. “But you guys are okay?”

  Diane nodded. “The doctor says we’re both healthy, but to watch our cholesterol and blood pressure.”

  “So Dr. Stone didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know?” Jill asked.

  “No. But he spent a lot of time doing it, not like the one who always rushed us in and out. Dr. Stone said our hearts are strong. Walking is a good exercise and he couldn’t think of a more beautiful place than Blackwater Lake to do it in. Clean air. Majestic mountains. Trees. Said a person could exercise body and soul at the same time.”

  The bell over the door jangled and in walked the doctor/poet himself. Jill wondered if her own heart was strong enough to survive the pounding it took every time she saw him, and now was no exception. The Schurrs looked like twin deer caught in headlights. Or kids with their hands in the cookie jar.

  “Dr. Stone,” Diane said. “Speaking of the devil. We didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Besides being the devil,” he said with a straight face and a gleam of amusement in his eyes, “I’m also the food police.”

  “This is yogurt.” The older woman’s voice was only a little bit defensive. “Ask Jill.”

  Apparently Adam hadn’t noticed her behind the tall glass case, because he looked surprised. “So you’re the witness for the defense?”

  “Mrs. Schurr is telling the whole truth and nothing but.” She couldn’t stop a smile. “And as chief of the food police, you should deputize her. She cut Mr. Schurr back from three scoops to two.”

  The doct
or nodded. “Have you thought about coming out of retirement and taking on a new career in diplomatic negotiations? You’d be good at it.”

  “I should be after all those years in the classroom. Girls and boys need a firm hand and the voice of reason.” She finished the last of her yogurt and looked at Jill. “Norm and I have to be going. It’s good to see you, sweetheart. Take good care.”

  “Will do,” Jill answered, reading the real meaning between the lines. “Night, Mrs. Schurr. Mr. Schurr.”

  The two waved, and then the bell above the door jangled before they walked out and she was alone with Adam. He was wearing worn jeans and a black T-shirt that snugly covered his broad chest like a second skin. The sleeves stretched over his biceps and drew her attention to the contour of muscle there. The devil impressed her female hormones, she thought. And it was okay to be impressed as long as that didn’t blind her to reality.

  “So, you didn’t really come in here to be the food police, did you? That could put a big dent in Maggie’s income. She does a lot of business with the town’s retired demographic.”

  “No, I’m not checking up.” He laughed. “I have a confession to make, though.”

  Being married, having a girlfriend and leaving tomorrow were the top three declarations of guilt that popped into Jill’s mind. But all she said was, “Oh? What?”

  “I can’t say no to ice cream.”

  “Neither can my son, which I guess makes me the food police.”

  “Good luck with that. C.J. is resourceful and could join Mrs. Schurr in diplomatic negotiations.”

  “Or undiplomatic,” she added. “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have what Mr. Schurr had.” Adam folded his arms over his chest and studied her as if she were a new and exotic flavor in the display case.

  She scooped the ice cream into a cup, then took the ladle to drizzle caramel over the two vanilla mounds. She was grateful to have something to do with her hands and very aware that his gaze never left her. “Is something wrong?”

  “You tell me.” He took the cup she handed him. “Where’s C.J.? And what are you doing here?”

  “My son is with Brewster and his wife, Hildie.” Not that it was any of his business. “And I’m here because Maggie Potter is pregnant and having contractions. Her brother drove her to the hospital.”