Sweet Southern Nights. Rochelle Alers
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If Levi had been in New York, his free time would’ve been filled with dinners, parties, occasional trips to Philadelphia to see his relatives and having fun with his circle of friends in his off-hours. If he needed a date, all he had to do was call. He’d established a coterie of female friends who were willing to step in at a moment’s notice, and he was always quick to reciprocate whenever they needed an escort. He made certain never to blur the lines between friendship and intimacy. Women he counted as friends he didn’t sleep with. Those he’d slept with, he relegated to the past. When he ended a relationship, he never wanted to send mixed signals.
Levi planned to meet Angela Chase later that evening. He wanted to find out whether they both were on the same page in case someone asked how long they’d known each other or where they’d met. After all, the wedding guests were Angela’s friends and family and he didn’t want to do or say anything that would embarrass her.
His head popped up when he heard the knock on his office door. He stared at the receptionist-slash-secretary-slash-insurance claims manager as she peered through the slight opening. He turned off his tape recorder.
“Yes, Krista.”
“I just got a call from a mother who would like you to examine her son.”
Levi capped his pen, slipping it into the breast pocket of his lab coat. “What’s wrong with him?”
“She claims he fell out of the back of her dad’s old pickup and hurt his arm.”
“Tell her to bring him in.”
Office hours were over and he’d just finished updating notes for his last patients’ medical records. If he hadn’t been thinking about his dinner date with Angela Chase later that evening, he probably would have already left for the day. Ten minutes later Krista returned to tell him the patient was waiting in one of the examining rooms.
It took only a glance for Levi to know the boy was seriously injured, and would need X-rays. He gave the six-year-old a shot to minimize the pain, stabilized the limb with a splint and sling, and then called the local hospital to alert them that the boy’s mother was bringing him in, and that he needed emergency medical attention. He promised to fax over the incident report.
He ended the call, and then turned to stare at the young mother sitting on a chair cradling her son to her chest. The boy’s eyelids were fluttering. “Mrs. Godfrey, I want you to go and start up your car. I’ll carry Jeremy for you.”
Debra Godfrey stared up at the tall doctor with the friendly smile. Within minutes of bringing her son to the clinic, Dr. Eaton had managed to ease her son’s fears by asking him what his favorite cartoon was. When Jeremy said Sponge Bob Square Pants the pediatrician pretended to be one of the cartoon characters. It was enough to stop the flow of tears while Dr. Eaton deftly injected him with a painkiller so he could examine the child’s arm to better determine the severity of the injury.
Debra nodded as she bit her lip to stop it from trembling. “I… I don’t have enough gas in my car to make it to the hospital. “I’d hoped you would be able to take care of Jeremy’s arm here at the clinic.”
Levi gave the mother a reassuring look. Most of the patients who came to the clinic were hardship cases, living at or below the poverty level. Many were on Medicaid, and those who were uninsured were charged a nominal fee. He knew Debra Godfrey was the mother of three school-age children and had moved in with her parents after her husband was sentenced to an eight-year prison sentence for armed robbery. If she’d come into his New York office, Jeremy would’ve been x-rayed by a staff technician, an orthopedist would have set the child’s arm and fitted it with a lightweight cast. The fully staffed medical group offered an array of services including minor surgery.
“I’ll call Larry at the gas station and tell him to fill up your car.”
Debra’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ll pay you back soon as I get paid next week.”
Levi patted her hand. “Don’t worry about paying me back, Mrs. Godfrey,” he said, smiling in hopes of putting her at ease. “Just take care of your son.”
Reaching into the pocket of his lab coat, he took out his cell phone, scrolled through his contacts, and tapped the button for the gas station. It took less than a minute to relay his instructions to the station owner. Scooping up the boy, he carried him out to the parking lot, placed him gently on the passenger seat of the old pickup truck, and fastened the seatbelt, adjusting it to prevent further injury to his arm.
Levi watched as the taillights disappeared when Debra Godfrey drove away. Treating the child had meant he’d have little time to prepare for his meeting with Angela Chase. He didn’t want to read more into the blind date than just doing a favor for a colleague. He reasoned that this was only going to be a one-time thing.
Angela checked the table setting to make certain she hadn’t forgotten anything. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, she wanted dinner to be perfect. Maybe it had something to do with not having a man over for dinner in almost six months. It wasn’t as if she’d soured on the opposite sex. It was just that she didn’t trust men.
She’d decided to have dinner in the enclosed terrace. After making sure everything was perfect, she returned to the kitchen to check on the chicken that had marinated overnight. She opened the oven door and checked to see if the roast was fully cooked and perfectly browned. A smile tilted the corners of her mouth when tantalizing aromas wafted up to her nostrils. The stuffed bird was perfect for the cool late-spring evening.
Most nights when she returned home from work, she didn’t go into her home office to turn on her computer, but retreated to the enclosed back porch where she spent countless hours catching up with her pile of reading material or watching a movie.
Glancing at the clock on the oven, Angela lowered the temperature, closed the door and walked out of the kitchen to the staircase that led to the second floor of bedrooms. She had an hour before Levi Eaton arrived.
Stripping off her tank top, sweatpants and underwear, Angela covered her hair with a shower cap and then stepped into the stall in the en-suite bathroom. She turned on the shower spray and adjusted the water temperature. She squeezed a generous glob of her favorite bath gel onto a sponge and went about soaping her body.
As his gaze shifted from the map on the dashboard to the road in front of him, Levi decelerated. Apparently Angela was right. The roads were confusing. It was the third time the automated voice had recalculated his programmed route. After his last patient, he packed an overnight bag and a garment bag with the suit he’d planned to wear to the wedding, and drove fifteen miles from Maywood Junction to Louisville. He planned to check into a downtown hotel where he’d take advantage of the hotel’s full-service salon for a haircut and shave.
As he continued driving, a wooded area gave way to a paved road and a sign pointing the way to Magnolia Pines—a private residential community. The sun had set and the light from the nearly full moon reflected off the rails of the white fencing surrounding the property. The rails were a constant reminder that he was in horse country.
He’d come to Kentucky at the beginning of January and planned to leave at the end of June. And during his six-month stay, he’d made a promise to himself to attend a horse race. And his race of choice was the Kentucky Derby.
Reining