front of him. It was a well-appointed area, wide-open spaces, lots of wood structure. It resembled a mountain lodge more than a hospital.
“Maybe a dozen, on average. We’ve got people coming in from all over the area, and Dora Hanson over in Westslope is retiring shortly so, little by little, she’s sending her practice to us.”
“She’s retiring?” He remembered her. She was a good doctor. Kind. Gave out huge lollipops to all the children. “Hard to imagine.”
“When you get to that certain age...”
Dora Hanson, getting to that age. He still pictured her as forty, vibrant, cheery smile. Of course, she probably still pictured him as someone close to Matthew’s age—five. Time did have a way of marching on when you weren’t noticing. “I always liked her. She gave out better candy than you did.”
Henry chuckled. “Of course, you would remember the important thing.”
“To a young child, that lollipop was the important thing.”
“Do you give out lollipops, Caleb?”
He didn’t. His two years in a Las Vegas clinic had been so fast-paced, he’d barely had time to get the necessities done, let alone give out lollipops or even be the father Matthew needed. “Maybe I’ll have to buy some,” he said, suddenly feeling connected a little differently than he had only moments earlier. Back to his roots, back to some of the more traditional ways. Ways he hoped to give to his nontraditional son.
“Well, just so it won’t come as a big shock to you when you hear it, Dora and I are getting married shortly.”
That announcement snapped Caleb back to the present, and he blinked his surprise. “What?”
“Getting married and heading toward retirement while I’m still young enough to enjoy my new life with her.” He pointed to a hall veering off the main waiting area, and both men headed in that direction. “Got some good fishing years left in me, and Dora and I want to travel, take in some sights we weren’t able to see while we were in full-time practice.”
“Who’s going to run the hospital?” Caleb asked, even though he had a sinking feeling he already knew.
They stopped in front of a door that was marked “Family Practice Clinic,” with the name “Dr. Caleb Carsten” already inscribed on a placard next to it. “I’m signing the place over to Leanne, but she’s been telling me she doesn’t want to move back here.” He grinned. “Since she’ll be the new owner, I suppose that will be her problem to figure out while I’m out on the river somewhere, casting my line.”
Leanne Sinclair. The name from his past he wasn’t sure he liked hearing again. Of course, working for her dad made it inevitable that he would, although he’d been trying not to think about it. But working for her?
Suddenly, Caleb was having second thoughts about being here. And third thoughts. For an instant, he wondered if he should simply get his old job back, and look for a different resolution in his life. Someplace where he didn’t have to be around Leanne, or the memories she’d left him with, memories that once-upon-a-time had nearly destroyed him. Sure, they had been kids back then, but some hurts didn’t go away. Instead, they lingered and festered like an open wound. Leanne was his open wound.
* * *
Leanne Sinclair leaned her head back against her chair and sighed. “All you have to do is say the word, and I won’t go.” She’d known that returning home might be a possibility, but now? She’d had four great months with Eric and, while she wasn’t ready yet to call him the one, he was certainly settling in on that distinction. He’d asked her, two weeks into their relationship, to make it exclusive, and she’d agreed.
But now, her dad needed her home. Five hundred and eighty-two miles from Seattle, and from Eric. A nineteen-hour drive due to the rough terrain. Not so far in miles, but very far by the emotions when she really had none invested in Marrell, Montana. Hadn’t for a long time.
And, while she was absolutely coming back to Seattle after she got the situation in Marrell sorted, she wasn’t sure, yet, how everything was going to work. Her dad was going into semiretirement with an eye toward full retirement in a year, and he was giving her his hospital. Not only that, but he wanted her to stay and run it.
Like that would ever happen.
“I’m waiting,” she said to Eric, her eyes still closed.
“Going home’s not such a bad thing, is it? And it’s not like it’s going to be forever.”
That wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to hear from him. Somehow, in her mind, she’d expected him to ask her to stay. Or even beg her. Tell her he couldn’t live without her, or didn’t want to. But to suggest she should go?
“And it’s not like Marrell’s that far from Seattle,” he continued. “We can meet up in the middle somewhere, anytime we’re both free.”
She stared up at him. Eric Harrison was a handsome man. Movie-star good looks. Black, wavy hair, green eyes, nice physique. “Are you saying you want me to go? Is that what I’m hearing?”
Eric, who was standing across from Leanne, leaned forward, placed the palms of his hands flat on her desk and shook his head. “Of course, I don’t want you to go. But we don’t all get the choices we like, do we?”
No, she hadn’t expected this at all, and she was stunned by how quickly the hurt was bubbling up in her. “I don’t understand. Since we’re so new, I thought you’d want me to stay.”
He chuckled. “Don’t be so insecure. We’ll make this work, no matter where you are.”
“A long-distance relationship?”
“For three months. A lot of people do it for a whole lot longer than that. It’s not so difficult these days.”
“But I’m not a lot of people.” And she wanted to stay close to her man. She also wanted him to want her to stay closer and, so far, Eric was avoiding that.
“No, you’re not, or I wouldn’t have been so attracted to you in the first place.”
Maybe it was some undefined apprehension causing her to wonder if that attraction had been anything other than physical for him. Some stupid insecurity just now popping up. Because she was feeling apprehensive about going to Marrell. Not sure why, but her stomach was doing flip-flops, now that the plan was all but definite. “Can we try to schedule meeting somewhere two or three times a month?”
“Or more, if we can work it out.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to work, Leanne. You’ve got my promise.”
Maybe she had his promise, but what she didn’t have was his optimism. And she wasn’t normally such a pessimist. But there was something about going home for three months...
* * *
“One year, ten months,” Henry Sinclair stated emphatically. He and Leanne were strolling together through the halls of Sinclair Hospital, both wearing white jackets, both looking very doctorly.
“That long?” Leanne questioned. “I’d have sworn I came home sometime about a year ago.” Her dad looked good. He
