Marta Perry - The Doctor Next Door

“It probably seems longer to you because you’ve been so many different places since then.” She bit back the words that wanted to spill out about where he’d been and where he was going in the future.

“I guess.” He pushed again, the swing moving back and forth with a little more energy, as if it picked up on some agitation he didn’t show.

She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know where he’d gone tonight, and she couldn’t act as if it didn’t matter. She’d just have to choose her words carefully, that was all. Brett seemed willing to forget their earlier quarrel, and she had no desire to remind him.

“Did you and Doc have a nice supper?” That was neutral enough, surely.

A faint smile flickered on his lips. “We ate at the Bluebird Café. Hasn’t anyone in this town heard of healthy cuisine?”

“Only the newcomers. Let me guess. Doc had chicken and gravy.”

He nodded. “Got it in one. And rolls with butter, and mashed potatoes.”

“Nobody can resist Cassie’s homemade rolls.” This didn’t seem to be getting them any closer to the subject she needed to discuss, but at least they weren’t sniping at each other.

“Doc should at least cut down on the butter, and he knows it. That’s what he’d tell a patient.” He frowned, turning to face her. The swing stopped abruptly as he planted both feet on the porch. “He needs to retire.”

“Did he say so?”

“No.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “Of course he didn’t say so.” He shook his head. “Go on, ask. You know you want to.”

He sounded frustrated, but not angry, so maybe it was safe to broach the sore subject.

“Did you tell him?” She held her breath, waiting for an explosion.

His jaw tightened. “Yes. I told him. I think he’d already guessed most of it.”

“What did he say?”

“About what you’d expect.”

She swallowed hard. “That’s it, then.” She hated saying the words. “He’s given you his blessing. You can go away and forget about the clinic.” About us.

“You know I can’t.”

She looked up at him. He was very close to her, but it was hard to make out his expression in the dark.

“What do you mean?” She held her breath. Maybe he was about to say—

“I mean you were right. I can’t ignore this. I owe Doc too much for that.”

Hope surged through her. “You’ll stay?”

He shook his head, and the hope died as quickly as it had come. “I can’t. Try and understand that, Rebecca. Doc does.”

“I don’t.” If that was incitement to a quarrel, it would have to be. “You admit you owe Doc. Is that how you intend to repay him? By leaving?”

“I’ll help out at the clinic for the time being.” He sounded grimly determined. “And while I’m doing that I’ll figure out a way Doc can retire with an easy mind. But as for the future…” He shrugged. “I don’t think it’s going to be the way you wanted.”

She already knew that. Dreams didn’t come true, not in real life. Prince Charming didn’t come back for Cinderella.

“I guess not.”

The swing creaked as he moved. Then he touched her chin lightly, the way he’d tease a smile from a child. The warmth of his hand flowed through her, and her heart stuttered.

“Don’t think too badly of me, okay? Maybe none of us should be held to promises we make when we are kids. After all, you promised to marry me if I’d just wait until you were grown up.”

He must feel the warmth that flooded her cheeks. “That was a long time ago.”

“Now you’re all grown up, and everything’s changed.” His hand still lingered against her cheek. “I’ve changed, too. But I’m going to do my best to help Doc, so I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

A faint hope flickered. He’d be helping out at the clinic every day. Maybe being there would make him realize this was where he belonged. Maybe God was giving her another chance to convince him to stay.

The trouble was, she’d have to find a way to do it without having her heart broken by the man she’d given it to when she was five.

The good thing about going to the café for breakfast, Brett decided, was that no one bothered you unless you wanted to talk. When he’d walked in the door, the early morning regulars had greeted him as if he’d been there yesterday morning, instead of years ago. Then they’d gone back to their newspapers or conversations about the weather and the state of tourism.

Nostalgia had prompted him into the third booth from the back, the one that had belonged to him, Alex and Mitch when they were in high school. The blue-padded seats looked like the same ones. With a mug of Cassie’s coffee steaming in front of him, he shook out the newspaper and prepared to get up-to-date on Bedford Creek news.

Halfway through the front page, someone slid onto the bench across from him. He looked up to find Mitch flagging Cassie and the coffeepot.

She got there before he could gesture again. “Like old times, the two of you sitting here together.” She set the heavy white mug on the table and filled it in a swift, efficient movement. “You just need to get Alex here with you.”

“We’ll work on it.” Mitch waved away a menu. “Just coffee, thanks.”

Brett raised an eyebrow. “Does Anne have you on a diet?”

“I had breakfast two hours ago. Cops get an earlier start than doctors.”

Mitch might have been up for hours, but his blue uniform was as sharply pressed as if it had just come off the rack. That was the lingering effect of years in the military, Brett had always supposed.

“When I was interning, I don’t think I ever went to bed. Come on, Mitch, admit it. You’ve got it soft these days. Cushy job in a small town, beautiful wife-to-be…”

Mitch grinned. “Plus a couple thousand tourists, no staff to speak of and two kids.”

“And you love it,” Brett pointed out.

“And I love it.” Mitch’s smile softened, as if he were thinking of Anne. “I’m one lucky guy.” Then his gaze focused on Brett. “What about you?”

The mixture of relief and guilt he’d felt the night before flooded back. “I told Doc last night.”

“And?”

Brett shrugged. “Great, fine, I have his blessing. You know Doc. He wouldn’t say anything else.” Maybe that was what bothered him most—that Doc would be so unfailingly supportive, even when Brett was disappointing him.

“Look, you have to do what you’re called to do.” Mitch spread big hands flat on the table. That was what he’d said when Brett told him the day before. “We both know that. Doc knows it, too.”

“I wish it were as clear-cut as that. If Doc were ten years younger, it might be. But I’ve seen him at the end of the kind of day he’s putting in at the clinic. He’s exhausted. It’s time he took it easier—even thought about retirement.”

Mitch shook his head. “Doc won’t retire. Face it. He’d rather die in harness.”

“I’m not going to let it come to that.”

“So what are you going to do? You can’t force him to take it easy. He’s the only doctor in town, remember?”

The decision he’d made the night before still seemed right. “That just means I have to act fast. I have to find someone else to work at the clinic, eventually take over for him. That’s the only way.”

Mitch’s skeptical look spoke volumes. “Easier said than done. The clinic board tried that a couple of years ago. The world isn’t filled with doctors who want to settle down in a town of five thousand, miles from anywhere. And anyone who was interested, Doc didn’t think was good enough.”

“There has to be someone.” Stubborn determination filled him. “And I’m going to find him. Or her. I’ve already talked to Rebecca about it.”