Tina Radcliffe - Mending the Doctor's Heart

The man in the chair wore a crisp blue shirt with the sleeves haphazardly shoved up to reveal muscular forearms. His striped navy tie was slightly askew.

“Dr. Rogers.” He struck out a hand. “Delighted to finally meet you.”

Henry Rhoades’s grin lit up his round face. The man’s smile and the bright green eyes behind his wire-rimmed spectacles seemed somewhat familiar, but Ben couldn’t quite place why.

“Thank you, sir,” he said.

“I heard about your heroics at the café. Well done.”

“Hardly heroics, sir. Dislodged a chocolate-chunk cookie. The Friday special, I understand.”

Dr. Rhoades chuckled. “None the less, it only reaffirms your curriculum vitae. Exemplary.”

“Thank you.”

“You met Dr. Elliott, as well.”

Ben frowned, confused. How could the man possibly know he’d met Sara Elliott less than two hours ago?

Henry Rhoades wheeled himself behind the large oak desk with practiced ease and picked up a file. “Please have a seat. Relax.”

Following instructions, Ben did his best imitation of relaxing. “Yes, we did meet, and I have to admit that after talking to her, I’m a little confused. My last conversation with you indicated the final interview was, well...”

“A formality.”

“Yes, sir.”

“At the time I spoke to you, that’s exactly what it was, and as I said, your credentials are excellent. You were my first choice.”

Were?

“But I’ll get to that in a moment.” Dr. Rhoades glanced down at the now open folder on his desk. “Tell me about this sabbatical you’ve been on.”

Ben took a calming breath. “My sister died six months ago. I needed a break.”

“Your sister.” Henry Rhoades paused, taken aback for a moment. “My condolences.”

When the older man narrowed his eyes and stared at him, Ben realized he was seeing far too much. He glanced away from the perceptive gaze and instead watched the play of dappled light that streamed in through the window, its prism bending as it reached out and landed on a silver picture frame on the desk. The picture was of a young child and a woman laughing.

Dr. Rhoades cleared his throat and continued. “Loss is never easy. Are you sure you’re ready to get back to work?”

“Sir, I’m committed to giving you one hundred percent.”

“Fair enough.”

For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of a large antique clock on a bookshelf.

“Well now, let’s get to the point. Dr. Elliott’s father has become the benefactor for the new clinic. The project seemed stalled in perpetuity—until he stepped in.”

Sara Elliott’s father? Ben tried to wrap his mind around that bomb of information.

“I see.” What did he see? That his chance at redemption was being cancelled out by a bankroll? The gates to Paradise were closing fast, and he’d barely gotten his foot inside. He had to do something.

“The timing of this has me puzzled,” Ben admitted.

“Understandable. I apologize for that.” Dr. Rhoades removed his glasses, wiped a spot from the lens with his tie, and then slid them back on the bridge of his nose. “Hollis Elliott suffered a cardiac arrest less than a month ago. When Sara returned home, naturally her father saw a window of opportunity for his only child to remain in Paradise. Unfortunately it was only a few days ago that he notified me of his wishes, and by then the candidates for the position had already been narrowed down to you.”

Ben took a deep breath. So where did that leave him in the equation? One plus one was still two as far as he could tell, and there was only a single open position.

Henry Rhoades frowned for moment. “I trust you will keep what I’m about to say confidential.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve been the medical director here in Paradise for over twenty-five years. One thing I have learned is that sometimes it’s better to proceed and apologize later than ask permission.” He winked, and once again Ben couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen that mischievous glimmer before.

“Sir?”

“Stay with me for a moment. I do eventually arrive at my destination.”

Ben nodded, amused and concerned at the same time. This was like no other job interview he could remember. Physician interviews were generally so starched, he could barely breathe. Yet Dr. Henry Rhoades was about as laid-back as they come, leaving Ben struggling to figure the man out, much less where the convoluted conversation would lead.

“Bequeaths and donations go directly to the hospital foundation, which is overseen by the Board of Trustees. The clinic is under that same board, so I have gone to them for assistance in resolving this situation. While Hollis Elliott’s generous funding has made the last phase of the clinic project possible, I am not without options.”

The phone on his desk buzzed.

“Excuse me.” He picked up the receiver. “Yes. Thank you. Send her in.”

The door opened, and Sara Elliott walked into the room.

Sara had changed clothes and now wore a simple yet elegant navy dress, her long hair free and flowing. This was quite a transformation from the cowgirl he’d met earlier.

Surprised, Ben caught his breath before he immediately stood. And stumbled.

Way to go, Rogers. Grace under pressure.

“Are you all right?” she murmured.

“Yeah. The carpet tripped me.” He adjusted his suit coat and cleared his throat.

A soft laugh tumbled from her lips. “Happens to me all the time.”

“Sara, my dear.” Henry Rhoades smiled. “You’ve met Dr. Rogers.”

“I have.”

Ben paused and cocked his head at the warm tone in Dr. Rhoades’s conversation with Sara. A warning bell sounded somewhere, but he dismissed it. After all, Paradise was a small town, and her father was, after all, the financier behind the clinic.

“I had the opportunity to see Dr. Rogers in action today,” she continued.

“Yes, and no doubt he will be on the front page of the Paradise Observer,” Dr. Rhoades said with a nod toward him.

Sara smiled as her gaze met Ben’s. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Ben blinked. Surely they weren’t serious.

Once Sara had settled in the leather Windsor wing chair next to his, Ben sat down again.

Henry Rhoades steepled his fingers and assessed them both over the rim of his glasses. “Now then, the matter at hand is the clinic position. What I’m proposing is that you work together this summer.”

Sara’s eyes widened as she looked from Dr. Rhoades to him. “Together?” She slowly repeated the word that had lodged in Ben’s own throat.

From directing a clinic to job sharing in less than thirty minutes.

“Yes,” Dr. Rhoades answered. “I’ve spoken to the board, and they are willing to subsidize two doctors through the first of September. At that time we’ll assess our options.”

“That’s a little over eight weeks from now. Are you saying we’re going to share the position for the entire eight weeks?” Sara asked, her tone incredulous.

“Since the clinic officially opens late September, there’s more than enough work to keep you both busy. Interviewing medical staff. Ordering supplies. Then there’s accreditation. I can assure you the time will pass very quickly.”

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “A lot can happen in eight weeks.”

“Precisely,” Dr. Rhoades responded with an enthusiastic wag of his index finger. “Think of this as a personal and professional due diligence. Paradise needs someone who’s ready to commit to a future here.”

Pink now tinged Sara’s high cheekbones. She grimaced and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.

“Eight weeks is plenty of opportunity to discover whether Paradise is a good fit for you and if you’re a good fit for Paradise, wouldn’t you say, Dr. Rogers?”