Family Practice (8 page)

As he came near she caught a whiff of his cologne. It was suddenly hard for her to take a breath. “Please, have a seat,” she said a little more forcefully than she’d intended.

He didn’t appear to notice her tone and she relaxed slightly. She was simply going to have to get used to having so much high- octane testosterone so close at hand—day
and
night. She leaned forward on her elbows and rested her chin on her crossed hands. “What can I help you with?”

“First of all, thanks for backing me up in there with your stepmother.”

She nodded. “You’re welcome.” She almost added something about partnership but didn’t. They weren’t really partners, not in the way most people used the term. And as far as she could, see they probably never would be, although surprisingly she hadn’t even thought about the job with the cruise line for almost a week—she simply hadn’t had time the past week, she excused herself.

“I got Ginger to agree to cut some of her hours at the White Pine and to try to get off her feet at least two hours every afternoon.”

“But will she follow through?”

He shrugged. “I hope so.” He rested his forearms on his thighs and stared down at the floor between his spread legs. After a moment he straightened, giving her the full effect of those rain-cloud-blue eyes. “Callie, do you think your father is aware of how dangerous a situation his wife and baby could be in?”

“I...I’m not sure,” Callie said. “We’ve never talked about it in any detail. It was an unplanned pregnancy, but that’s about all I know. I’ve been home so little these last eighteen months.”

He waved off her explanation. “I get what the final year of a family-practice residency can be like.”

“My dad’s a smart guy, but I can’t say he has a lot of experience with pregnant women. He probably isn’t aware of the extent of the risks for both Ginger and the baby. I noticed she was retaining water, but as far as her blood pressure being elevated, no one mentioned it.” High blood pressure could lead to premature birth and even death for both Ginger and the baby if the condition wasn’t kept under control. She shuddered, letting the sentence trail off. They were coming close to the boundaries of patient/practitioner confidentiality. But they were also talking about her family, her flesh and blood. J.R.’s greatest fear was that something might happen to Ginger or the baby. She made up her mind. “Should I talk to him?”

Zach shook his head. “Not unless he brings up the subject. We don’t want Ginger to think we’ve gone behind her back.”

“No, I certainly don’t want that. Perhaps I should talk to her instead?”

“Are you comfortable doing that?”

“No,” she said ruefully. “Not as a doctor and not as a stepdaughter. If there are problems between Ginger and my father, I’d much rather they come to you with them. Perhaps she’s kept them from him so he doesn’t worry about her. Or she might simply be blocking it out of her mind?” She made it a question.

Zach nodded. “She wouldn’t be the first person to behave that way.”

“It’s complicated all around,” she said. “My mother says there’s talk in town about them.”

“There’s bound to be some jokes and teasing when a man your father’s age finds himself with a new baby on the way. I imagine it’s good-natured ribbing for the most part.”

“Are you sure?”

“Your dad’s a popular guy. He’s got a lot of friends. He can take care of himself. But I’m not so sure about Ginger. She might believe she has a lot to prove to the residents of White Pine Lake.” He shrugged. “I’m a PA, not a psychologist. But just so we’re on the same page—if I think the situation warrants it, I’ll call J.R. and Ginger in for a consultation. She’ll listen to him if he’s the one insisting she slow down and take it easy. And he’ll make sure that she does.”

Callie smiled, relieved. “He will do that.”

“Can I share a little observation of my own?” he asked.

“Certainly.” She sat a little straighter.

“I understand the delicacy of your situation, but your stepmother’s still new in town,” he said, one big hand closing around the bell of the stethoscope hanging around his neck. “I said I’m not a shrink, and I’m not, but it doesn’t take one to see Ginger could use a friend.”

“I’m trying,” Callie said honestly. “I’ll do my best.”

“But...?”

“I’m not sure where to start. I don’t know very much about her,” she said, ashamed to admit all the things she’d never asked.

“I’m not sure anyone around here does, except your dad.”

“I’m not so sure he does, either. It was a whirlwind romance. Love at first sight, I’d guess you’d say.”

Zach picked up on the skepticism she hadn’t been able to filter out of her voice. “Don’t believe it’s possible?” he asked, just a tiny hint of his killer smile flickering across his mouth.

“I might if I’d ever experienced the phenomenon.”

“I can’t fault you there, although I believe love at first sight is possible.”

“My dad is convinced of it. He said he felt that way about my mom, too. But it’s still so out of character for him. He’s methodical and reasoned in every other aspect of his life.”

“There’s nothing wrong with letting your heart take the lead now and then.”

“My mom’s heart led her to leave us. Was that the right thing to do?”

He shrugged. “People grow apart. And it’s been my observation that marriage is hard work.”

Did that mean he was for it or against it? But she wasn’t going to start wondering what Zach’s Gibson’s views on marriage and happy ever after were. It might keep her awake at night. So she just nodded. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“On that subject, yes. Moving on, I’d like to congratulate the two of us for having made it through a hell of a couple of weeks.” He grinned, full wattage this time, and propped one foot on the opposite knee. “A modest celebration is in order, Dr. Layman. Would you care to join me for a drink at the White Pine after we finish here?”

Callie couldn’t have been more surprised if he’d transformed into a bat and flown out of the window as she watched. “A drink?”

“Yes. A beer or a glass of wine, or we can get really wild and crazy and order a margarita. I’ve been known to drink one or two in my day.”

“The clinic doesn’t have a policy on after-hours socializing among staff, does it?”

Zach grinned. “Come on, Dr. Layman, are you saying you haven’t read the handbook?”

Callie was determined not to let on how surprised she was by the unexpected invitation. They had been finding their footing on a professional level this past week, but socially?
Good morning
and
Good night
and
I see you deadheaded the petunias today. They look good
was about the extent of their conversations. She’d cultivated a pretty decent poker face during her years of medical school. She put it to use now. “I haven’t had a chance, but I assume you
have
read the handbook and there’s no specific prohibition against it. Am I correct?”

“You are.”

“I—” She hesitated, still uncertain it was the smart thing to do.

“Let’s consider it a team-building exercise, then,” he continued before she could marshal her arguments against the plan.

“I don’t suppose I could object to that.” Why not have a drink with him? It was a lovely evening. She had nothing else to do. “Are you sure the White Pine’s a good choice, though?”

“If we’re lucky, we can snag a table on the porch. Best place in town to watch the sunset.”

“Second best,” she said automatically. “Number one is our front porch.”

“That’s another possibility.” His eyes darkened slightly, and immediately she imagined moonlight on still waters and the privacy of the shadowed porch of the duplex.

Team-building exercise, remember,
she scolded herself. Not a date. “I’ll meet you at the White Pine,” she said hurriedly. “I have a few errands to run after I leave here. Is six-thirty okay?”

“It’s great.” He uncoiled from the chair and stood up, forcing her to raise her eyes to meet his. “I’ll see you there.”

* * *

H
E
WAS
PLAYING
with fire, Zach decided, staring at himself in the mirror. What had possessed him to invite the lady doc for a drink to celebrate the fact that they’d made it through the workweek without coming to blows? He decided he didn’t really want to self-diagnose the impulse. They were just two colleagues unwinding after a busy week. Getting to know each other a little better. Team building. That was all.

He rubbed his hand over his chin, wondering if he should shave. No, she’d just have to take him as he was. He didn’t want to be late, and he also didn’t want to make too big a deal out of a glass of wine and a little conversation.

It was already a few minutes after six. It would take him ten minutes to walk to the White Pine. No use getting the truck out to drive the short distance; he’d never find a parking space anyway.

He’d meant it when he said he wanted a table on the porch of the bar and grill—in full view of passersby. People seeing them together after clinic hours would reinforce the notion they were a team. A good one, maybe even one that could last a lot longer than the three months Callie had signed up for. And since he was being so incredibly honest with himself, he might as well admit he wanted to be sitting there when she walked up the big, sloping stone steps so he could enjoy knowing she was going to be joining him and no one else. He wanted to be relaxed enough to have let go of the workaday tensions no doctor could avoid, and experience the full force of her smile when she spotted him waiting for her. He wanted her to relax, too, so they could talk without her measuring every word he said or calculating her own responses to fit what she thought his expectations would be. He wanted her to be spontaneous and open, the way some sixth sense told him she would be with a man she trusted and respected.

Maybe more than merely respected.

Zach stared down at the rust stain rimming the drain in the old-fashioned pedestal sink. He’d never had a home, not a real one, and he wanted White Pine Lake to be that elusive place. Over the past few days he’d come to realize he wanted Callie to start thinking the same way. He wanted her to remember that once upon a time she’d planned on returning to White Pine Lake to practice medicine and make it her home—the way he had.

A future that included Callie Layman.

Was that really what he wanted? Or was she just another patient he wanted to help? He was a healer. It was what he did, what he’d been trained to do. It didn’t matter that he was a quack when it came to healing himself. He was very good at doing it for others. And Callie Layman needed healing, at least her family did.

He didn’t have a family of his own. He’d never had one. Maybe he never would, but he understood that Callie was struggling to find a way to bring together the disparate elements of the one she’d been handed. It was going to be one hell of a job. But despite the differences in their approach to their common goals, where it counted, deep down, he and Callie were more closely aligned than they’d expected.

So he was going to do everything he could to help her achieve her goals: a happy marriage for her father and a happy blended family for herself, whether she recognized that was what she was striving for or not.

He lifted his head and stared at his face in the mirror for a long few seconds.

Just think of her as a patient. That’s the answer.

“Liar,” he said under his breath. “Man, you’ll never learn. When you start lying to your own face in the mirror about why you’re interested in a woman, you’re already too far gone to save yourself.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“H
ERE
, C
ALLIE
,
you take the baby while I go rescue my father-in-law from the clutches of the other three kids.” Callie held out her arms automatically as Gerry Forrester Seamann handed her the squirming form of her three-month-old daughter. “Jacob needs his diaper changed, and Grandpa Seamann is not going to appreciate spending the rest of the evening with a big wet spot on his pants.” Her friend gave Callie an impish grin perfectly suited to her elfin features, pale skin and fiery-red hair, and bustled off without waiting for a response from Callie.

“How does she manage?” Jen Koslowski asked, dropping into the rickety lawn chair next to Callie. “She’s a baby machine. Four kids under six. Two of them in diapers and one still breast feeding. I’d have left Rudy and run away to Paris or Rome by now if it was me. Oh, man,” she said, rolling her eyes and clapping her hand over her mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forgive me, I forgot about your mom.”

“It’s okay,” Callie said. “It was years ago. We’re good now.” Jen was from Ohio. She hadn’t been born and raised in White Pine Lake. The scandal of Karen running off and leaving Callie and J.R. had happened long before she met and married Rudy.

Callie repositioned the baby in the crook of her arm so that she could see her sweet little face and let her wrap her tiny fist around Callie’s finger. “Gerry’s always loved dolls. I remember when we were little, she’d bring a whole suitcase of them with her when she came to spend the night. We had to sleep on the floor because there wasn’t room for both of us and all of them in my bed, and heaven forbid they had to sleep on the window seat by themselves.”

Jen laughed, recovering her poise. “I believe it. She definitely has the mommy gene. I’m exhausted by the end of the day and I’ve only got two. And they’re potty trained and almost civilized.” She was a plump, easygoing woman who worked part-time at one of the town’s gift shops and managed the bookkeeping and scheduling for Rudy’s construction business. She also didn’t have an ounce of shyness in her personality. Everyone she met was an instant friend. Her children were middle-school-aged—two boys who at this moment were riding their bicycles up and down the long dock that stretched out through the shallow reed bed in front of Jen and Rudy’s home into deeper water. The boys’ first couple of trips up and down the narrow wooden planks had brought Callie’s heart into her throat but didn’t seem to upset their parents or grandparents, so she’d pushed aside visions of greenstick fractures and concussions and tried to enjoy herself. And surprisingly, she had.

She still wasn’t certain how her not-a-date quiet drink with Zach on the porch of the White Pine had morphed into a backyard barbecue at Jen and Rudy’s, but it had. One minute they were sitting at their small table watching the world pass by, and the next Zach’s phone was chirping. Callie had immediately thought it was an emergency or an accident, but it was only Rudy Koslowski.

She’d had no trouble overhearing the conversation because Rudy, like many of White Pine’s inhabitants, never knew if his cellphone calls were coming through loud and clear or were filled with static and barely audible, so he always assumed it was the latter and spoke accordingly.

“I just drove by and saw you two sitting on the porch,” he had yelled. “Have you ordered food or are you just having a drink?”

“Just a drink,” Zach replied, far more quietly than his friend.

“Great. We want you and Callie to come on down. I thawed a couple of packages of steaks and Jen got inspired and made enough potato salad to feed an army. Gerry and Ron Seamann are coming over. And both sets of our parents and one or two of my guys and their wives. It will be a chance for Callie to meet them and catch up with the rest of us. Join us and we’ll have a beer or two to celebrate what a great job Koslowski Construction did on getting the clinic up and running again.”

Callie had been a bit dismayed by the out-of-the-blue invitation, but when she’d heard Rudy say he wanted to toast the clinic and his crew, she had to accept. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful for all their hard work. “But we don’t have anything to take,” she said. She may have been away from White Pine Lake for years and years, but she was certain one thing hadn’t changed. No one went to dinner at a friend’s or neighbor’s without bringing something along to share.

“I heard that,” Rudy bellowed. “Bring a six-pack of beer and a couple dozen of Mac’s cookies and you will be welcomed with open arms.”

Zach regarded her before responding, one eyebrow slightly elevated. She nodded, doing her best not to let her discomfort show. She wasn’t comfortable with being spontaneous, but she could try.

“It’s a deal,” Zach said. “We’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Can I get you anything?” Zach said, pulling her thoughts back into the moment, taking the seat Jen had vacated moments earlier to referee a heated argument between one of her boys and another child over who was going to be in charge of the game of hide-and-seek. The sun was about to go down and the shadows of the big pines that lined the property on two sides had crept out into the yard.

“No thanks. I have everything I want right here,” she said, snuggling the baby under her chin as she gently patted her back. The little one turned her tiny face into Callie’s shoulder and nestled against her neck, falling asleep between one breath and the next.

“You’re an expert at that,” Zach said, gesturing with his hand.

“Babies are the joy of family practice,” Callie said, placing a featherlight kiss on Kayla’s fuzzy head.

“Gerry’s a great mother. It shows. All her kids are happy and well-adjusted.”

“Jen and I were talking about Gerry a few minutes ago. She was born to be a mother. It’s all she’s ever wanted to do. She excels at it.”

“You two are old friends.”

“We bonded the first day of kindergarten. I was her maid of honor at her wedding and I’m godmother to her second. The one who’s standing over there, crying his eyes out because his sister stole his cookie.” It was one of the best things about coming home to White Pine Lake. With Gerry and Ron she never felt as if she didn’t belong. It didn’t matter if Gerry and Callie hadn’t seen or talked to each other for six weeks or even six months—they always took up where they had left off, as if they had been apart only a few hours or days at most.

“Those kinds of friendships are hard to come by,” he said.

“Are you still in touch with any of your high-school friends?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I attended six high schools in four years. You get moved around a lot in the foster-care system. I didn’t make any long-term friendships.” It was one of the few details of his life he’d volunteered. She waited for him to say more but he didn’t.

“But you made friends in the military.” She indicated Rudy, who was bending over the fire ring as he showed his oldest how to stack firewood in a tepee shape.

“Good friends,” he said, flicking a mosquito away from his ear with a wave of his hand. “But they’re scattered all over the country, busy with their own lives. An email now and then is about all the contact we have these days.”

“You could have all the friends you want here in White Pine Lake.” A steady stream of people had stopped by their table while they’d been sitting on the porch at the restaurant. He had been at ease and friendly with all of them.

“Yeah,” he said. “There are great people in this town.”

“I agree.”

“You handled yourself pretty well tonight. You didn’t let old Ezra Colliflower rattle you with that question about how much money you’d have to be paid to stay on permanently.”

She gave a little laugh. “Well, it did startle me,” she confessed, “although I suppose I should have been ready for it.”

“Does that mean you’d consider it if the committee makes a formal offer?”

The direct question surprised her. Was he asking because he wanted her to stay and make their partnership permanent, or because he didn’t want her as his superior? She didn’t have the courage, here and now, to ask him which it was.

“I’m not sure,” she replied truthfully. Two weeks ago the answer would have been a categorical no. Tonight, here among old and new friends, with a baby in her arms and the sounds of children laughing and boats out on the lake returning to shore for the night, a loon calling eerie and beautiful off in the distance, she wasn’t so sure. But would they want her?

“Come on over here closer to the fire, you two,” Ron hollered. “If you stay there under the trees, the mosquitoes will eat you alive.”

Callie had already draped Kayla’s lightweight blanket over the baby’s head so she didn’t get bitten, but the steady drone of the insects around Callie’s own head signaled it wouldn’t be long until they found a way to get past her defenses. She stood up as Gerry came toward her, arms outstretched to retrieve her daughter.

“You didn’t really answer my question,” Zach said quietly, rising when she did.

“Because I can’t.”

* * *

“W
ELL
,
YOU
’
VE
FINALLY
gotten around to showing your face to your oldest friend, have you?” Mac straightened from inspecting the huge roaster of oven-baked chicken that she had just taken out of the oven. Callie’s stomach rumbled, but she fought the temptation to ask for a piece. Callie and the twins were going to Karen’s farm later, and her mother would be disappointed if Callie didn’t do justice to the lunch she was preparing for them. Still, she’d only had a single slice of toast for breakfast, and that had been hours ago. She’d fully intended to sleep in this morning, but the bell of St. Timothy’s calling the faithful to early Mass had awakened her earlier than she planned.

“I could flatter you and say I saved the best for last but we both know that wouldn’t work,” Callie said, batting her eyelashes. Mac snorted and began transferring pieces of golden-brown chicken from the roaster to a warming pan. “I’m well aware of how much you hate to be interrupted when you’re busy.” You couldn’t let Mac get the upper hand or she ran roughshod over you.

“I’m always busy, but that doesn’t stop me from carrying on a conversation. You’re the one that flits in and out of here like a dragonfly. Are you going to light a spell this time?”

“I’m lit.” She grinned, resting one hip on a stool. “For a little while, anyway, I’m supposed to be bonding with my stepbrother and stepsister today,” Callie said. “We’re going out to the farm to have lunch with Mom.”

Mac raised her steel-gray eyebrows. “Bonding means you take them to a movie or to the water park in Traverse City. I find it hard to believe that woman invited them at all.” Mac’s words were heavy with suspicion. Callie felt a little stab of guilt. The invitation had been her idea and it was true Karen hadn’t been all that enthused.

“Well, she
did
invite them, and even more surprising, Becca agreed to go.”

“I hope Karen cooks something they’ll eat. None of that hunter-gatherer leaf-and-berry stuff she touts on the internet.” Karen’s tutorials on everything from carding and spinning to making soap and canning pickles were surprisingly popular, racking up amazing numbers of hits a day. She had attracted several sponsors and was actually making money at the enterprise.

“She promised me the twins would love the meal.” Callie recalled the menu of creamed kale and new potatoes Karen had mentioned on her first trip to the farm and wondered if she should wrap up a couple of peanut-butter sandwiches to take along.

Her hesitation must have showed on her face. Mac sniffed. “She
is
planning on twigs and berries, isn’t she? I’ll fix a little something for the kids, just in case.”

Callie smiled her thanks. “You’re a treasure, Mac.”

“Your mother’s sure changed her tune. She couldn’t even wait for you to grow up enough to take care of yourself before she hightailed it out of here,” Mac grumbled on, shaking a large metal spoon in the air for emphasis. “I can’t get my head around the idea of her warming up to the second wife’s children.”

“Hush, Mac, someone will hear you.” Mac didn’t have children of her own. She’d arrived on the scene when Callie’s grandparents retired to Arizona when Callie was thirteen. Soon after, Callie’s aunt and uncle—her father’s only sister—and their three children had followed her grandparents to Arizona, and Callie, bereft, had spent even more time with the gruff middle-aged chef. Mac had watched Callie grow up, watched J.R. and Karen’s marriage crumble and fall apart. She’d done her best to comfort both Callie and her dad after Karen left, but she had never forgiven the younger woman for abandoning her family. Callie suspected she never would. Most of the time Mac just pretended Karen was a thousand miles away from White Pine Lake, but now and then she couldn’t help herself and let her acid tongue get the better of her.

“Not saying anything but the plain truth.”

Callie glanced away. One of the summer college kids who made up the waitstaff and kitchen gofers was prepping vegetables on the far side of the room. Two more were manning the dishwasher, so there was enough background noise to make their conversation private. The breakfast crowd had thinned out and the early lunch crowd hadn’t yet arrived. It was as quiet as the White Pine kitchen ever got. “What can I do to help you, Mac?”

“Not a thing. Just making sure the chicken will be rested and ready for the early lunch crowd. The Catholics are up at the crack of dawn and walk through the front doors right on the dot of eleven-thirty for the baked-chicken special. Then comes the Methodists, and then the slugabeds and the all-night partiers.” Mac raised her eyes to the ceiling. “May they see the error of their ways, Lord.”

“Amen,” Callie said, trying not to smile. “Don’t forget the tourists.”

“Never do,” Mac said. “Pray for them every night to be fruitful and multiply and keep our four-tops filled, or at least to go home and give us fantastic word of mouth.”

“Amen,” Callie repeated, grinning irreverently. Tourists were what kept the White Pine in the black eight months out of the year.