Family Practice (7 page)

But he suspected Callie Layman didn’t fit into the category of women who were no more into long-term than he was. He’d better watch himself. And if none of those rationalizations helped when she turned that fabulous smile on him, the cold, hard fact that she was his boss should do the trick.

“We should be able to hit the ground running Monday morning, then,” he said.

“A week behind schedule, but who’s counting?”

“But what a week. You have to admit it hasn’t been boring.”

“It certainly has not.” Another quick smile, but he was ready for it and avoided the punched-in-the-gut wallop the last one had produced.

They’d made some progress today. Sure, she was still as prickly as a cactus, always standing on her dignity, but heck, he’d dealt with newly minted M.D.s a lot pricklier than Callie Layman.

He couldn’t fault her for considering the cruise-line job. She hadn’t figured out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life like he had. And a chance to work on a cruise ship would be hard for anyone to refuse. It would be a real temptation for anyone who hadn’t already found the one place on earth he wanted to be for the rest of his life.

“I’m sorry for oversleeping this morning and getting us off to a late start. Did it ruin your plans to go fishing?” she asked as she powered down her laptop and closed the lid. Everything she did was precise, but still somehow completely feminine and underscored by a quiet strength he wondered if she even knew she possessed.

She’d overslept and he’d had to knock to wake her up; still, when she reappeared a half hour later, apologizing and offering Mac’s incredible chocolate cookies and coffee as a very good peace offering, she’d looked as cool and composed as always. He wondered how she did it.

“I don’t have a choice.” He grinned. “I’ve got an order for three pounds of bluegill fillets from Mac. Last night I let those fish believe they were getting a free lunch. Today they’re going on the stringer, and tonight some lucky guy from Detroit will be dining like a king at the White Pine.”

She laughed and the sound was silvery and cool—raindrops on birch leaves—and even more enticing than her smile.

Zach stood up and walked the few feet to the tiny kitchen area and set his coffee mug in the sink. The bathroom was only three feet away. The door was half-open. A shampoo bottle sat on the shelf right in his line of vision. A field of purple flowers graced the label. Lavender. One of his foster mothers had been an avid gardener. She had raised lavender, and whenever he smelled it, he recalled sunlight and summer days. But no longer; now he would always associate the scent with Callie.

He stopped himself. Definitely letting his thoughts get too personal. Not good. Not good at all. So though he wanted to add
Want to come along?
he didn’t.

She had stood up when he did but didn’t move away from the table, keeping it between them. Okay, he got it:
Don’t come any closer. Don’t get any more personal.
Just as he’d been warning himself not ten seconds earlier.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

Man, why couldn’t he just say
Thanks
and head out the door? Maybe because today he hoped they’d taken a step forward in their relationship and for once had avoided the “two steps back” portion of the routine? Or maybe he just wanted her to smile again and know he had something to do with it.

“I’m meeting a friend for lunch and to ooh and ah over her new baby. Gerry Forrester. I mean, Gerry Seamann. We grew up together. We’ve been friends since preschool.” She grinned and he suspected her sense of humor could hold a very sly edge. “She and Kayla, her little one, and her other three children are patients you won’t be seeing while I’m here, even if I did forget to mention their names earlier.”

Her words jiggled his memory bank. There was something he’d forgotten to tell her about the patient list also, but he couldn’t remember what it was. She went on talking and the thought drifted away.

“And then I’m going to drop by the White Pine and visit with Mac during her afternoon break.”

“She’ll probably put you to work.”

“I don’t mind. I like cooking. I just never get much chance to do any. You know how it is when you live alone.”

“And have a sixty-hour workweek.”

“Closer to seventy these last eighteen months. I imagine it was the same for you in the military.”

He stiffened. It wasn’t sixty or seventy or even eighty hours a week when you were in a war zone. It was 24/7/365. With death and dying coming at any moment of the day or night. “Yeah,” he said shortly. “It could be a bitch. Well, I have to be going.”

“Zach...I...I’m sorry. I was just making small talk. I didn’t mean to pry—”

“Not your fault,” he said, wishing he could keep the tightness out of his voice, but he couldn’t seem to do that, either. “Just not a place I want to go.”

“Of course, I understand.” She glanced down at her laptop. “Well, I won’t keep you.”

“The sun’s getting up there. If I want to get Mac’s order filled, I should get out on the water. I’ll—” He’d started say
I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning,
but of course, he’d probably run into her half a dozen times before then. “I’ll see you later,” he finished lamely.

“I’m sorry I brought up the subject of the war,” she said softly as he headed for the door.

“Let’s just say I didn’t make the best choice. ‘Join the Navy and See the World.’ It didn’t happen that way. Kuwait, Iraq and Afghanistan. I spent some time in all those places. The Middle East’s a long way from home. Long way from the water. Just a lot of war and suffering and pain and dying.” He snapped his mouth shut before he said any more. Before she heard the demons he kept mostly locked away these days fighting to get out. He didn’t want her to diagnose him as unstable...although, once in a while—but not too often anymore, thankfully—he still worried he might be.

“But in the end that decision led you to your career in medicine. It brought you to White Pine Lake.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It did do that.” He felt a small measure of serenity return.

Her expression was stricken. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t mention Afghanistan again.” She’d tried to reach out and he’d slammed the door in her face. It was a warning to him. He was attracted to her but she was a healer, same as he was. She would push to find the cause of his pain, his misery, and he didn’t go there. Not now. Not ever.

He should have said
It’s all right. It was no big deal. I’ll get over it.

Instead he nodded his head and walked out the door.

Two steps back...
And this time it was no one’s fault but his.

CHAPTER SIX

“H
I
, G
INGER
.
H
OW
are you today?” Callie lowered herself onto the desk chair positioned alongside the narrow counter in the newly refurbished exam room. Three weeks ago when she arrived in town, it had been a cool, sterile blue, the floor awash in floodwater. Today it was a creamy buff color, which contrasted nicely with the off-white counter and the shiny new simulated-hickory laminate floor. The new decor was a collaborative effort between the female staff—with input from Rudy, Zach and her father on what type of flooring surface and paint finishes would wear best. Maybe her dad and Rudy being there had helped keep the sessions upbeat and not too serious, or maybe they were all beginning to learn to function as a real team. She hoped so. She was doing her best to make it happen.

Over the past week, Rudy Koslowski and his crew had labored tirelessly to get the clinic back in shape. The electrical upgrades had been accomplished without a hitch, and three members of the White Pine Physician’s Committee had volunteered their evenings to help paint. Callie had even managed to find time to help wallpaper the children’s corner of the waiting room.

The committee members on the wallpaper crew had been gracious in accepting her help, and since only one of them had known her as a child— the straight-A student voted most likely to succeed, the girl whose mother had walked out on her family to join a hippie commune in Oregon—the evening had passed pleasantly enough. Gerry Seamann’s mother-in-law, Doris, had donated a set of almost-new colorful plastic child-size table and chairs she’d found at a thrift shop in Petoskey. And as quickly as that, there was a bright, cheerful place for little ones to stay occupied while they waited to see the doctor.

Being away from her hometown for so many years, Callie had forgotten how quickly the townspeople could all come together for the betterment of the community and how satisfying it was to be part of such an effort. Lately she had been reminded in ways large and small how good it was to be home.

Unfortunately, the examining room’s warm color palette, chosen for its calming influence, didn’t seem to be having the desired effect on her stepmother. Ginger perched uncomfortably on the edge of the paper-covered exam table, her distended stomach very evident beneath her lightweight summer top. The baby was moving, and vigorously, too, it seemed, by the grimace on Ginger’s face as she pushed gently on a protruding elbow or knee, hoping the little one chose a more comfortable position to settle in.

Callie stared for a moment, distracted by the realization that the tiny being was her blood, too. Her half brother or sister, tied to her forever by the love they would share for the man who was father to them both. Usually she could consider the situation with some detachment, but not today. It was Friday, the end of a second busy, stressful week, and her guard was down.

“I assumed I’d be seeing Zach,” Ginger said.

“You will be,” Callie assured her. “I just stopped in to say hello and make sure you’re okay and to apologize for having to cancel dinner the other night.” The clinic had been swamped with patients on Wednesday. A nasty summer virus had decided to pick White Pine Lake’s population as a “target of opportunity,” as Zach described it. They’d had to squeeze half a dozen unscheduled appointments in that day and then do a hurried disinfect of the exam rooms after the last patients left.

Callie had been exhausted by the time she finished dictating her patient notes. Zach, on the other hand, had returned to the clinic that night to help Rudy and his crew lay the flooring in this very room.

“Don’t mention it,” Ginger said, visibly relaxing. “You’ve been swamped here. Rumor has it you’ve put in nearly as many hours decorating as the Physician’s Committee.”

“I really didn’t do that much,” Callie insisted, although she was pleased that her effort hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed in town.

“You’ve done wonders. You’d never guess two weeks ago this place was a disaster area.”

“Just about everything’s up and running again.”

“It’s one of the good things about living in a small town,” Ginger said with a little edge to her voice, as if there were other aspects of small-town living she didn’t appreciate quite as much. “Brandon was disappointed. He missed you the other night,” she said, changing the subject.

“I promised to take him to meet my mother, but I couldn’t find a spare moment. Perhaps this weekend.” Karen had dropped off a half-dozen eggs from The Girls’ laying earlier in the week. Desperate to find some way to connect with her stepsiblings, Callie had asked if she could bring the twins to visit. Karen had appeared surprised at the request, then shrugged and said sure. Callie appreciated her mother’s help in making progress with the twins. She doubted Karen would be as generous helping her find common ground with Ginger, however.

“Please don’t feel as if you have to entertain my son,” her stepmother said.

“I want to. And I hope we can persuade Becca to come, as well.”

She didn’t hold out a lot of hope in that regard. Her young stepsister hadn’t seemed very enthusiastic about the proposed visit, or anything else to do with Callie, for that matter.

Ginger sighed. “I hope so, too, but please don’t be offended if she refuses to go. Preteens can be difficult.”

A knock sounded on the half-open door and Zach’s face appeared around the edge. “Hi, Ginger.” He walked over and held out his hand. Ginger gave it a quick shake. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Callie and I have just been catching up.” Ginger scanned their faces. “Is there some reason other than small talk that Callie’s here? You aren’t considering transferring me to her care, are you?” She must have realized how ungracious the words sounded because she lifted her hands in apology. “I mean, I understood Callie wasn’t supposed to treat family members. I’m sure I remember J.R. telling me that.”

“That’s true,” Callie agreed with a smile she hoped wasn’t as tight as it felt on her face. She had anticipated this was going to be an awkward conversation, but it was even more difficult than she had imagined. She wanted to be on good terms with Ginger; she hoped that they could grow close enough to call each other friend and mean it. But so far they hadn’t made much progress. Between the hints of a rough patch from Mac, her mother’s gossip and the tension she’d sensed for herself between J.R. and Ginger, she didn’t want to be forced into a more intimate relationship right away. So far her good intentions of repairing any cracks in J.R. and Ginger’s relationship hadn’t amounted to much. She hadn’t even had a chance to talk more with Mac. She’d been too busy working on her own relationships with Zach and the clinic staff. “It’s clinic policy that staff not treat family members, except in emergency situations.”

“Callie is also the physician in charge here, though,” Zach said, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his white coat, his head cocked a little to one side, that darn, gorgeous half smile just visible at the corners of his mouth. And try as she might, Callie couldn’t hear any patronizing undertones in his statement about her being in charge. “So I would like your permission to be able to consult with her if I have any concerns about your pregnancy.”

Ginger laid her hand protectively on her stomach. “Concerns? What concerns are you referring to? Is something wrong? Bonnie did say my blood pressure’s up slightly, and my ankles are swollen, and my hands, too, but it’s been so warm, and I’m on my feet a lot—”

She glanced at Callie, who kept her expression pleasant but unreadable despite her own worries. This was the first she’d heard of Ginger’s blood pressure being elevated. She didn’t like the sound of it.

“There’s nothing to be alarmed about today, Ginger,” Zach continued, “but we’ve been over this before. A woman in her late thirties is considered at high risk for complications during pregnancy.”

“But this is my second pregnancy. Everything’s checked out fine so far, all the blood tests and the ultrasound. And the baby’s active. Very active.” She grimaced as a wave of movement rippled over her distended belly. “See, and he’s strong, too. And I’m not really so old these days—lots of women over forty have babies, and I have given birth to twins, remember.” She tried to make it a joke and almost succeeded.

“That’s a second complicating factor, a multiple first pregnancy, although we all know there’s only one baby this time.”

“He’s right, Ginger,” Callie said soothingly, hiding her own disquiet. “And you are only eight weeks from your due date. Dr. Carmichael is already bending the rules for you. You should be seeing her in Petoskey weekly.”

“But she agreed—if I see Zach twice a week here I only have to go to her once a month until September. She has a lot of confidence in Zach. She said so herself.”

“Then you have to have confidence in Zach, as well.” She could give credit where credit was due without diminishing her own authority. “He is an excellent PA.”

“Thank you, Dr. Layman,” he replied with equal formality.

Ginger missed the slight stiffness in the exchange. “I really don’t want to spend most of a day coming and going to a doctor’s appointment,” she said fretfully. She began twisting her wedding ring around on her finger. The gold band was tighter than it should be. Something Callie had noticed before, but then she hadn’t realized how serious the situation might be. “We’re shorthanded at the White Pine. I’d have to leave the kids alone with J.R.” Her face flamed. “I only meant to say he’s busy, too, and the twins can be a handful.” She tried to explain. “We’ve been alone since they were babies. Their father died so young. It’s hard for them to have a man in the family.” She made a little gesture of defeat. “They’re good kids, and your dad’s great with them, Callie, he really is, but we’re all still adjusting. And the baby coming makes everything that much harder.” She stopped abruptly.

Callie didn’t have any trouble getting her smile right this time. Even if she had taken offense for her father’s sake, which wasn’t the case, she couldn’t let any patient continue in such distress. “It’s okay, Ginger. I understand what you meant to say, but Zach’s right. You are at a higher risk than you were eleven years ago when you were pregnant with the twins. It’s simply a fact of life, especially if we can’t keep your blood pressure under control. But if we can, everything should be fine.”

“And if we can’t control it?”

“Dr. Carmichael will probably want you to go on bed rest,” Zach said. “As a precaution.”

“Oh, no, I can’t do that again. I had to go on bed rest with the twins, and I only had to take care of myself then. Well, me and my late husband, who was about as much trouble as a child. How will I ever manage now? Please, what do I have to do to avoid that?”

“Watch your salt,” Zach began. “Get off your feet as much as possible. Take a nap in the afternoon. And stop worrying.”

Ginger stared at her clasped hands. “I’m not very good at that.”

Callie rose, sensing her stepmother wanted her to go so she could talk to Zach in private. “Ginger, remember, I’m only on board to consult on your physical condition. Anything else you discuss with Zach is totally confidential. You’re still Zach’s patient. We both want you and the baby to have the best care possible.”

“Thanks, Callie, I appreciate your concern.”

Callie opened the door. “I have some patient notes to dictate. I’ll leave you two alone now.”

“Mac baked cookies today,” Ginger said to Callie as she took a step into the hallway. “Brandon said I should tell you. He’s hoping to bribe you into stopping by.”

Callie laughed. “He’s going to be a heartbreaker in a few years. He’s already discovered the best way to wow the ladies is to offer them Mac’s triple-fudge chocolate-chip cookies.”

“He takes after his father in that respect. He was a real charmer, Kyle was. But when all is said and done, I hope Brandon grows up to take after your father and not his own.”

Callie nodded, touched by her stepmother’s words. “Dad is a good man and a great father.”

“He is.” Ginger smiled brightly, but anxiety still clouded her eyes. “And thanks for watching over us.”

“You’re welcome.” Callie closed the door softly behind her. Maybe she couldn’t give J.R. and Ginger a happy ever after all by herself. But she would do her best to not be part of the problem. She’d try harder to have a better relationship with Ginger and the twins for J.R.’s sake—and her own.

* * *

“G
OT
A
MINUTE
?”

“Of course, come in.”

Zach stepped inside and closed the door of Callie’s office. There were still a couple of stacks of plastic storage bins containing old records shoved in one corner, with a pyramid of boxes of salvaged supplies stacked on top, but for the most part the small space no longer looked as if it was part of a disaster zone.

When the committee had decided to repaint the entire clinic, Callie had picked a rich, warm brown for this room. White miniblinds covered the single window, and she was planning to order sheer curtains of the same color to soften the look and frame the view of the wildflowers in the overgrown meadow bordering the narrow strip of lawn behind the building. Other than that, the walls were bare. Her diploma was on the wall above the reception desk where everyone could see it, next to Zach’s. Leola had insisted they be prominently displayed, and she and Bonnie had badgered Rudy until he hung them precisely where they wanted them. But when she found a free hour, Callie was going to visit the galleries on either side of the White Pine to find a print or two. With the finishing touches of the framed prints, the little room would truly be her space.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, motioning Zach to a chair. For a moment she feared he might refuse the offer and continue to stand with his shoulder against the door frame, taking up more than his fair share of the space. He was just a little scruffy after a long, hard day and week, but nowhere near as wrung out as she must appear. It wasn’t fair that men could look sexy and desirable when they were tired and women just looked tired.