thing is, you don’t need to protect Jill from me,” Adam assured her.
“Uh-huh.”
The sarcastic tone said there was nothing he could say to convince her, so he wasn’t going to waste his breath trying. “Did you want something?” At her blank look, he added, “You were looking for me?”
“Right.” The puzzled expression disappeared. “You’ve got one more patient. Little boy with a fever and sore throat. His daddy sweet-talked Liz into letting him come by.”
Liz Carpenter was the clinic receptionist, a pretty young woman who apparently didn’t need protecting from the big, bad outsider.
“Is he here?” Adam asked.
“Exam room one,” the nurse answered.
“I’ll be right there.”
“He’s ready for you.” She turned and left his office.
It had been a warm, September day in Blackwater Lake, Montana, but Adam felt like digging out his winter parka before seeing the patient. He left his office and walked back down the hall. Exam one was the farthest away and the others were empty, so it wasn’t hard to do the math. New doctor hazing, with a generous dose of warning tossed in.
He pulled the chart from the plastic holder on the wall beside the door and read the patient’s name. Tyler Dixon. The last name was familiar.
Before going in he read the medical information. Tyler was six, about the same age as C. J. Beck. Not allergic to anything. An otherwise healthy boy with a sore throat and fever. His father was Cabot Dixon, and Adam grinned as he walked inside.
The dark-haired, dark-eyed little guy sitting on the exam table looked exactly like the boy his father had been when Adam had met him years ago. The Dixons owned the ranch where he’d gone to camp every summer and the two had become friends.
He held out his hand. “Cab, it’s good to see you again.”
“Adam.” The other man’s smile was sincere and friendly, a first for the day. “Heard you moved here, but didn’t think I’d have to see you in a professional way so soon.”
“Your boy’s not feeling well?”
“This is Tyler.”
“I didn’t wanna miss school, but my froat hurts,” the child informed him. “And I don’t like shots.”
“Me either.” Adam smiled as he studied the boy’s feverish eyes and flushed cheeks. “Would it be okay if I just take a peek in your throat?”
“Just look?” The boy didn’t trust him, but that had nothing to do with Jill Beck and everything to do with being six years old.
“I want to feel your neck, too, but it won’t hurt.”
“Promise?”
Adam crossed his heart and held up his palm. “Word of honor.”
“Okay.”
Beside the exam table on a metal tray, nurse Virginia had put out some things. He picked up the wooden tongue blade and the handheld light and told Tyler to say “ah.” Then he ran his fingers over the boy’s neck and asked the father, “Has he had a cough or runny nose?”
“No.”
Adam took the stethoscope from around his neck and listened to the small chest and back. “Strong heartbeat. Good bilateral breath sounds. No wheezing from upper or lower lobes of the lungs,” he said.
“What is it, Adam?”
“My guess is strep throat. It usually shows up late fall to spring, so this is early, but symptoms are classic, including yellow patches on the back of his throat. I’ll swab it and we can do a rapid strep test to confirm.”
After Cabot nodded approval, Adam promised the little guy a “good boy” toy, then rubbed a cotton swab in the back of his throat. When Virginia came into the room he asked her to do the test on the sample and Tyler went with her to pick out his reward. That gave Adam a chance to talk to the man who’d befriended him when they were boys.
“Don’t worry, Cab. It’s not serious. Strep usually goes away without treatment and only rarely turns into something more serious. I’ll give you a prescription for an antibiotic, but it’s just a precaution.”
“That’s a relief.” The rugged man clearly had a soft spot where his son was concerned, and that was as it should be. “Anything else I should do?”
“Make sure Ty gets over-the-counter meds for the fever and lots of fluids—soda in moderation, popsicles, juice and water.” But Adam wondered about Cabot’s wife. It was most often the mother who came in with a sick child. “So, when did you get married?”
“Six years, eight months ago.” There was no mistaking the anger that slid, hot and intense, into those dark eyes. “And I got divorced right after Ty was born because she walked out. Left me with an infant and no idea how to take care of him. Still, he’s the best thing she gave me and I have to thank her for him. Just an FYI, don’t bring a city girl to Blackwater Lake. If you want to be happy for the rest of your life, make a local girl your wife.”
“Had a wife once,” Adam said. “Don’t want another one, thanks.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No. You?”
“No.” His friend smiled. “So, how’s Blackwater Lake treating you?”
“Like a leper,” he admitted.
“I heard you rented Jill Beck’s apartment.”
“Guilty. And apparently that’s a hanging offense as far as people in this town are concerned, because I haven’t even screwed up yet.”
Cabot shrugged. “You’re paying the price for the doctor who rented her place and then charmed and harmed her. Folks don’t like it when an outsider dumps on one of their own.”
“She’s safe from me,” Adam protested. “I just want to be part of the community. End of story. Honest.”
“I believe you.” The other man’s expression was amused and sympathetic. “But you’ll never belong until you prove you’re not going to ‘do Jill wrong.’”
“Tell me how to convince folks and I’ll do it.” Adam figured he’d take all the help he could get, especially from someone who knew the locals.
“You’re on your own with that.”
Before he could say more, Tyler came back into the room to show off his toy car and Adam was no closer to solving his problem. He liked Jill. He was attracted to her, but starting something was problematic. A single mom in Blackwater Lake would want promises and vows, and that was something he’d never do again.
To start anything he had no intention of following through on would make him no better than the last
