weren’t interested. What prompted you to change your mind?”
“Does it matter?” he countered, unwilling to explain how, after her you-don’t-have-children comment, his former colleague and old friend’s phone call had tipped the scales in her favor.
“Try something different,” Stewart Trimble had urged. “I understand your reasons for steering clear of medicine, but you still have a lot to give.”
“I don’t,” Ethan had replied flatly. “The proverbial well is dry.”
“Temporarily, perhaps, but you aren’t a quitter, Ethan,” Stewart had said. “Pediatricians aren’t limited to treating infants, you know. After bumming around the country for the last six months, don’t you owe yourself the old college try? What would it hurt to agree to a locum job in a practice where the worst thing you’ll treat is a sore throat and an occasional cough? Maybe your well isn’t as dry as you think.”
Plenty, he’d wanted to say, but in the end the combination of seeing Ivy’s exhaustion, the new load of guilt she’d leveled on him, and Stewart’s thought-provoking encouragement had prompted him to drive into town and offer his services on a limited scale for an equally limited amount of time. It would be a trial period, he’d consoled himself as the distance to Ivy’s clinic had shortened. That was all. At the end of the three weeks she’d asked for he’d have a better idea of what he’d do with the rest of his life.
As an added bonus, perhaps he could get the attractive Ivy Harris out of his head. His fiancée had been every bit as beautiful, but he’d soon learned that beauty usually only went skin deep.
She cleared her throat, bringing him back to the present. “No,” she admitted. “Although I want to be sure you won’t fill in for a day and quit the next because you changed your mind.”
“I finish what I start. If I agree to help you for three weeks, then I won’t leave you high and dry.” His former colleagues at the children’s hospital could attest to that. Once he’d tendered his resignation in St. Louis, he could have walked away, but through sheer force of will he’d struggled through another month until a replacement could be found.
She fell silent, apparently digesting his information. “OK. When can you start?”
“Whenever you like.”
She laughed, the lighthearted sound easing the residual tightness in his chest that hadn’t left him since the day his son had died. “I’d say immediately, but tomorrow is soon enough.”
“Tomorrow it is,” he said. “But I have a few conditions.”
A long-suffering expression flitted across her face, as if she half expected him to list requirements she couldn’t possibly meet. “Something tells me I need to sit down to hear this,” she said wryly as she did exactly that. “OK. Give me your terms.”
“First of all, I’ll earn the same salary you do and pay the same expenses.”
She blinked twice owlishly, as if he’d surprised her—which he probably had. “That isn’t what I initially offered you.”
“As I said earlier, I don’t take advantage of a colleague. Especially one who’s starting out.”
“Thanks.” She sounded dubious, as if she were afraid he’d spring something worse on her.
He did. “Second, I won’t treat babies.”
“None at all?”
“Infants aren’t my forte,” he said flatly. “I’ll take on all the school-age kids and adolescents who walk through the door, but anyone under the age of three is yours to deal with.”
She opened her mouth as if to argue, then simply nodded, as if she’d decided she could live with that particular stipulation. In a town without obstetrical services there couldn’t be more babies, especially newborns, than she could handle on her own.
“OK,” she said calmly. “Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
Her face warmed. “I’d say so. But at this point I can’t afford to be choosy. I appreciate anything and everything you’re willing to do.” She rose. “I’m usually here by seven-thirty most mornings, and our first patients are scheduled for nine.”
“What about referrals?”
“I send any child who needs a specialist north to Wichita or south to Oklahoma City,” she continued, “depending on the parents’ preference and insurance requirements. My goal is to bring in a pediatric endocrinologist and allergist once a month for scheduled appointments, but with everything that’s happened I haven’t had a chance to organize the clinics. Walt and I have other plans we hope to implement, but, as they say, Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Her smile was rueful.
Ethan saw the enthusiasm, the confidence, the full-steam-ahead attitude he’d seen in every new board-certified physician. Faith in one’s skills and the miracles of modern medicine made a man, or a woman, feel invincible and ready to conquer the world. For an instant he wanted to advise her to enjoy that feeling, because she’d lose it soon enough.
Idly, he wondered if he’d made a huge mistake by coming here. Seeing Ivy Harris every day would be like looking in a mirror, reminding him of what he’d once been like and showing him what he was now. A jaded physician didn’t pair well with an eager, idealistic one, but he’d already committed himself and he couldn’t back out now. Not because he cared about Ivy’s opinion, but because keeping his word was a matter of family honor. He might be the only Locke left, but his personal integrity was something he intended to hold on to with both hands.
“In the meantime,” Ivy continued, “if you have a patient who needs a referral, check with Heather, my nurse, or Billie, our receptionist.”
“You only have one nurse?”
“At the moment. But don’t worry. I’ll find another RN. They aren’t as difficult to come by as doctors,” she tacked on wryly. “If you’d like, I can show you around now, or we can wait until morning.”
“Don’t you have a hundred and one things to do before you can call it a day?” He turned her own words against her, although he found himself unwilling to leave for reasons he didn’t quite understand.
She smiled tiredly. “Yeah, but it won’t take long to give the nickel tour. We can start—” Her cellphone rang and she glanced at the caller ID display. “This might take a few minutes. Feel free to wander around on your own.”
Ethan sauntered past the receptionist’s desk as he ignored Ivy’s one-sided conversation. He stepped into the first patient room and saw the required glass canisters of cotton balls, cotton-tipped applicator sticks and tongue depressors standing on the counter, next to an otoscope to look into the ear canal. A biohazard container for needles and syringes hung on the wall.
Inside the cabinets and drawers he found the odd assortment of other necessities, including facial tissues, blood pressure cuffs in different sizes for little arms, as well as various kits and irrigation solutions. As far as he could tell Ivy had stocked her office with everything a general pediatrician might need, probably to avoid
