Family Practice Read online

  “Remember you have blood work scheduled first thing Tuesday morning, Eno,” Leola said, handing Miriam an appointment card. “Don’t forget or I’ll have to come out to the farm to get you,” she teased, but there was strain in her voice, as well.

  “She never lets me forget,” Eno groused but the look he gave his wife was filled with close to six decades of love and respect. “She started bossing me around two hours after we met.”

  “And I intend to keep doing just that as long as the good Lord’s willing.” She took his hand and they walked slowly across the reception area to the exit, nodding and speaking to everyone on the way, pausing long enough to admire Gerry Seamann and the baby, who had just arrived for a vaccination. A minute later Eno pushed open the glass doors and let Miriam precede him out into the warm August afternoon. Everyone was quiet a moment, watching them walk down the wooden ramp to their car, all of the staff aware it could be the last time they saw them together this way.

  “Oh, dear,” Leola said, her eyes darting between Callie and Zach. “I—” But she didn’t finish what she’d been going to say, as Gerry arrived at the reception window to sign herself and the baby in for their appointment.

  Callie’s face was a mask of studied calm. It was the expression every medical student achieved early on in their career to hide their true emotions. She avoided Zach after one quick, icy moment of eye contact. “I’ll be in my office, Leola,” she said. “Tell Gerry I’ll be with her in just a minute or two.”

  * * *

  SHE WOULD NOT CRY. She had no choice. She had patients waiting and she couldn’t have red, swollen eyes. Gerry, surely, would know something was wrong. Then she would ask why Callie was upset. How could she reveal to her friend that Zach Gibson was deliberately trying to sabotage her career?

  What else could it be, after all? Why else wouldn’t he have informed her of Eno’s prognosis? Otherwise, why wouldn’t he have officially handed over the older couple’s care to her that Friday morning at the duplex and not blindsided her this way?

  She had certainly been mistaken in her judgment—and admiration—of the man. Had he been plotting this betrayal the night he kissed her? Did he think so little of her?

  She didn’t have long to nurse her indignation and try to ignore the ache in the region of her heart. She should have figured he wouldn’t let her alone. He didn’t even bother to knock, just opened the door and walked in.

  “Callie, we need to talk.”

  She stood at the window with her back to him. It was a warm, humid day with the threat of thunderstorms predicted for late evening and throughout the night. The windows were shut and the air-conditioning turned on, so she couldn’t feel the humid breeze that stirred the tops of the trees or hear the katydids chirping in the tall grass. “I ought to make you call me Dr. Layman,” she said. She was ashamed of the pettiness of the demand the moment it left her lips, but she was too upset to apologize immediately. She crossed her arms under her breasts and continued to stare out at the grass in the meadow that was bright with stalks of goldenrod and purple wild aster. It was the middle of August now, and allergy season was in full swing.

  “As you wish. We need to talk, Dr. Layman,” he said.

  She whirled away from the window. “Was that some kind of test?” she asked, hoping the anger would keep her tears at bay. “Did you want to observe how I’d react to that kind of traumatic situation—learning a man I consider my second grandfather is dying without a hint of warning?”

  “I didn’t realize you were that close to him.”

  “Well, I am. I love them both.”

  “It was a slipup on my part. I apologize, sincerely. You’re not the only one who’s an outsider. I haven’t spent my whole life in this town. I’m doing the best I can to figure all the interconnections out.”

  “Someone should have told me he was ill.”

  “Eno doesn’t want it all over town that he’s dying. He’s a proud man. I couldn’t go against his wishes.”

  “Still—”

  “I would have thought your father would tell you.”

  “I... He’s never said a word.” She fell silent a moment, considering. “I’m not sure he knows.”

  “I meant to bring up Eno’s case that Friday, but it slipped my mind. Eno wasn’t even supposed to be in here today. His regular appointment isn’t scheduled until the first of next week.”

  “It’s my fault,” Bonnie cut in.

  Zach and Callie had been standing an arm’s length apart, glaring at each other. Now they swiveled their heads as though they were two puppets controlled by the same pair of hands. Bonnie stood in the open doorway, her dark eyes bleak, her expression filled with remorse. “Miriam called this morning to ask if there was an opening this afternoon. They want to get away for a couple of days. Go visit their daughter in Rogers City. She said Eno wanted to cancel his appointment altogether, but that made Miriam nervous, so he agreed to come in today if we could work him in.” She held out her hand. “I’m sorry. Zach, you didn’t have an opening and they said they would be happy to see Dr. Layman. Leola was busy on the other line. I just penciled him in,” the nurse said apologetically. She used the formal title Callie had demanded of Zach, a measure of the nurse’s distress. “I had no idea you were unaware of Eno’s diagnosis, Dr. Layman. I...I thought you must know, your family being so close to the Amstutzes and all.”

  Bonnie was only repeating the same point Zach had made. J.R. would have warned her if he himself had known. “It’s okay, Bonnie. It’s just a shock finding out this way, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry, Zach,” Bonnie said. “I should have come to one of you right away. It’s just been so busy with the high-school physicals all scheduled this week. I was proud of myself for being able to squeeze Eno in.”

  “It’s fine, Bonnie. We’re bound to have some miscommunication now and then.”

  Callie nodded her agreement to Zach’s remark. After all, Bonnie was only following office procedures, doing her best to accommodate patients in a timely manner. “He’s right. No harm done.”

  “You’re sure?” Bonnie’s still sounded as if she expected to be fired on the spot even after two decades of exemplary service.

  “I’m sure.”

  “It won’t happen again, Dr. Layman.”

  “I prefer Dr. Callie,” she said with a smile.

  The peace offering was accepted. “I put Gerry Seamann and the baby in exam room two.”

  “I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  Bonnie closed the door and left her alone with her PA once more.

  “I owe you an apology,” Callie said through stiff lips.

  “For the ‘call me Dr. Layman’ crack?” he asked. He had relaxed slightly but it was obvious he was still angry.

  “For accusing you of trying to make me look bad. That was unforgiveable.”

  “Yes,” he said. “It was.”

  “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” She took a couple of steps closer but kept the corner of her desk between them. She rested one hand on the surface, shoved the other into the pocket of her lab coat. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to practice in White Pine Lake.”

  “Dying is a part of life.”

  “Yes, but when you care for someone, you don’t always make the best decisions. You open yourself up to an inevitable failure.”

  “You might not. But then again you probably will. How would you counsel Eno if he wasn’t a family friend?”

  “Is this a test?”

  “It’s a question, that’s all. Are you afraid to answer it?”

  “I would tell him he should continue treatments only as long as he feels they are worth it. If and when he is ready to let go we...I...will do everything in my power to make sure he’s comfortable.”

  “Which is exac
tly the conversation I had with him three months ago. Eno has had a good, long life. He’s not ready to stop treatments just yet, but when the time comes, he will be at peace. You passed the test.”

  She sighed. “Did I? I should have been prepared for something like this. I’ve known these people all my life. It was bound to happen sooner or later.” The shock of believing she’d been betrayed by Zach had faded, but the strength of her reaction left her vulnerable and off balance.

  “It’s real. It’s life. It happens no matter what we do, no matter how well prepared we are.” He lifted his hand as though he might touch her cheek, then stopped himself and curled his fingers around the bell of the stethoscope hanging from his neck, as she’d seen him do so often. But she wished he had finished the movement, longed to feel his comforting touch. “I hope your practice is a long and successful one, but I also hope you never become distanced enough from the rest of humanity to deny your own pain.”

  Burning out, just going through the motions, treating only the symptoms and not the whole person—it was a fate suffered by too many physicians. They both knew it was a real risk in their chosen specialty and needed to be watched for and guarded against.

  Callie took a deep breath, willing herself back to calm. “I truly am sorry for what I said. I know you wouldn’t do anything so underhanded and unprofessional. It seems I’m always apologizing.” This time she was the one who had to restrain herself from reaching out to touch him, to connect as she apologized. It worried her, this sudden urge to be so close. She had been steeling herself from it ever since the night he’d kissed her, but her defenses were rapidly weakening.

  “Apology accepted.” Their eyes caught and held. She might have misjudged his motives toward her a few minutes ago, but physically she was beginning to be able to read him much better. He wanted to touch her, too, and was working to control himself. They were playing with fire, had been for days. It was why she had spent so many hours away from the tiny duplex—to remove herself from temptation.

  “I’d better go,” she said, though she didn’t move. He was just on the other side of her desk, blocking her path to the door. “Gerry and the baby are waiting for me.”

  He moved out of her way, but he didn’t free her gaze . “You’ll handle the cases like Eno’s just fine if you stay on in White Pine Lake. No one ever said it would be easy or that you’d be able to cure everyone, but it’s worth it, what we do.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t ever let yourself forget it.” He turned on his heel and left.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE STORMS that had threatened all afternoon came in the night. Callie had been dozing off and on but the thunder and lightning finally became too heavy to ignore. She glanced at the bedside clock, a battery-operated travel clock she’d had for years. White Pine Lake suffered a lot of power interruptions for all kinds of reasons, from squirrels and birds in the wires, to falling tree branches and high winds. Some of them lasted for only a few seconds, others for several hours, but all of them played havoc with digital clocks. She hated waking to a set of blinking numerals that bore no relation to the actual hour of the day or night.

  She squinted at the luminous dial. Not quite 3:00 a.m. She sat up. No use trying to sleep. Even with the door to her tiny bedroom closed, the storm couldn’t be shut out. She got out of bed and put on her robe, though she couldn’t find her slippers. The wooden floor was cool on her bare feet as she stood up and went to the kitchen sink for a glass of water. She was awake. She might as well stay up and watch the light show. Years ago, if Gerry or another of her girlfriends had been sleeping over, they might have snuck up into the widow’s walk, or if she was alone in her room, she would have wrapped herself in a blanket and climbed onto her narrow window seat to watch the dark clouds and sheets of wind and rain move in off the lake. She wondered if Becca might do the same thing tonight.

  If it didn’t stop raining soon, tomorrow’s expedition to pick market vegetables from Karen’s garden with the twins wouldn’t be pleasant. The project had been conceived when she had run into Ginger and her children at Kilroy’s Ice Cream Parlor a block down the street from the White Pine. Visiting the ice-cream parlor had been one more attempt to spend as much time as possible away from the cabin, away from Zach. It had been another very long week. They had sat on the elevated deck of the former general store that still retained much of its rustic charm, from high tin ceilings to whitewashed bead-board paneling and wide-planked polished wood floors. From the deck they could look out over the lake, where the storm clouds had been beginning to pile up over the dunes. Becca and Brandon had had double-scoop cones, Brandon’s bubblegum flavored and bright blue, Becca’s chocolate, filled with peanuts and caramel, with the not-so-appetizing name of “Moose Tracks.” Callie ordered a single dip of her favorite, black walnut in a dish, while Ginger settled for a glass of fresh lemonade.

  “The baby’s taking up all the space in her stomach,” Brandon said, running his tongue around the top of the cone to catch the drips. “It’s like a little alien, sucking up all the food she eats so it can grow big enough to split her stomach and get out.” He raised the arm not holding his cone and waved it over his head while making a terrible grimace.

  “Brandon, careful of your cone,” Ginger said, sipping lemonade. She looked tired but not as strained and anxious as she had the day Callie and Zach had spoken with her at the clinic. Callie suspected her father had insisted Ginger keep to the reduced work schedule and increased rest breaks Zach had prescribed for her. She would also be seeing the obstetrician in Petoskey early the next week. Ginger was close to her due date now and very big. Her blood pressure had remained within normal levels, though— information Ginger had offered to Callie herself, and Callie was cautiously optimistic that her stepmother could carry the baby to term and deliver him or her safely without further complications.

  “Brandon, stop being gross,” Becca said disgustedly. “That’s not how babies are born.” Callie held her breath, wondering just how involved the subject was going to get. For the moment they were alone on the deck, but it was Friday evening and business would be picking up soon as tourists and locals both came to enjoy an after-dinner treat.

  Was Ginger the kind of mother who informed her children in vivid detail of all kinds of biological processes they might not be emotionally equipped to deal with at eleven? Or was she the kind that would cling to the storybook fantasies of finding babies under cabbage leaves or delivered by a giant stork in a top hat, until one day she would discover in dismay they had already figured out much of it for themselves?

  “Sometimes it does feel the way Brandon described it when the baby is moving around a lot,” she admitted, laughing a little as she regarded her son with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “But that is not how babies grow or how they’re born.”

  “The baby gets nourishment from Mom’s blood. I told you that, dummy. There’s a cord attached to her stomach and the baby’s. When the baby comes out, they cut it,” Becca said with all the authority of her fifteen minutes’ seniority.

  “And that’s how you get a belly button.” Brandon smirked. “I watched the same video you did in health class.” Callie relaxed a little. The White Pine school system was fairly conservative in its curriculum. Reproductive lectures for fifth graders were pretty low-key.

  “If you want we can discuss it later,” Ginger said, appearing unalarmed by the prospect, “but not now when Callie is trying to eat her ice cream.”

  Ginger was a good mother. Her little brother or sister would be well loved and well taken care of by both his or her parents.

  “Thank you,” Callie said faintly.

  “I don’t want to talk about it at all. It’s gross,” Becca said. “I don’t want to have anything to do with it.” She gave her mother a defiant stare and then bent her head to her cone.

  Ginger closed her eyes f
or a moment as if gathering her patience. Blissfully unaware of the tension between his twin and their mother, Brandon kept right on talking. “I wouldn’t mind a baby brother who was an alien,” he mumbled around the edge of his ice-cream cone. “It would be better than another sister.”

  Becca stuck out her tongue but didn’t dignify the remark with a response.

  A family of tourists three generations strong came out the door of the ice-cream parlor just then, their hands full of treats, and made their way out to the deck. They arranged themselves at a table behind where Callie and the others were sitting, and the smallest of the trio of children promptly dropped his ice cream onto the floor and began to wail. By the time the ice-cream cone had been replaced and the commotion behind them had died down, the subject of where babies came from had blessedly been forgotten.

  A long, low roll of thunder came from far out on the lake. “Not much chance of a sunset tonight. The clouds are thickening up too quickly.” Callie followed her stepmother’s gaze. Off in the distance, huge cumulus clouds towered over the dunes, their whipped-cream tops and dark underbellies reflected in the glassy surface of the lake. The sun had already disappeared into the mass, and only stray orange-red rays broke out here and there to gild one of the big thunderheads with coppery highlights.

  “If it rains enough I won’t have to water the flowers tomorrow,” Callie said, taking a last bite of her ice cream.

  “We’ve missed you this week.”

  “Fall sports physicals,” Callie said. “We’ve been busy.”

  “It’s hard to believe school starts in less than two weeks. The kids are coming with me to Petoskey to shop for school clothes and shoes. It is impossible to keep them in shoes.”

  “Brandon ruins his by dragging his feet as he rides his bike down the hill. I keep telling him not to do it but he won’t listen,” Becca scolded. “I’m just outgrowing mine.” She regarded her feet with a scowl as if willing them to stay small.