passed Buns ’n’ Burgers and a vision of Courtney’s smiling face flashed into his mind. She was a beautiful woman and he had wanted very much to kiss her. After taking her back to the hospital, he’d spent a lot of time thinking about it. Maybe if he kissed the living daylights out of her, he could move on. If he didn’t, his weakness for damsels in distress might rear its ugly head and land him in trouble again. It was something else he was thinking too much about since coming home.
That thought made David execute a quick right turn and whip the Beamer into the hospital parking lot located in front of the older structure. The new tower was visible behind it. He got out of the car, locked the doors and walked into the lobby.
His brother, Peter, had his office in the same hospital where their father had once worked. Growing up in this town, David had pushed the envelope and tried to shake things up. For some reason he was glad that very little had changed. Including this building. Maturity was a funny thing.
Not much was different—lobby, gift shop, information desk and signs pointing the way to the different ancillary departments. It smelled of floor polish, antiseptic and the fragility of life. Nostalgia enveloped him as he entered the elevator and proceeded to his brother’s office on the fourth floor.
As he walked down the hall, David was bombarded by memories of this place. Very often, to see his father at all, he’d come here. He’d been a “fit in” between patients, rounds, emergencies and paperwork. He was all grown up now and it shouldn’t still bother him. But ignoring the knot in the center of his gut and its connection to the past wasn’t going to happen. Maybe he wasn’t so mature after all.
David walked into the office and looked around the waiting room. Unlike his own professionally decorated offices in Beverly Hills, this one had generic chairs and tables, inexpensive prints on the walls and a TV mounted in the corner. Peter Wilder was older by four years, but that wasn’t the only reason they hadn’t been close growing up. Each of them reacted to their environment in their own way. His brother had followed in their father’s footsteps. David had chosen a wilder path, no pun intended. He wondered if Peter’s way was working for him or if he felt a similar emptiness.
When he stepped into Peter’s private office, his brother looked up and grinned. “The prodigal son returns.”
Shades of his own thoughts. “Hi.”
David remembered people saying that the two Wilder boys looked a lot alike, but that’s where the resemblance ended. Peter had set a high bar and David had suffered in comparison. More than once his father had asked why he couldn’t be more like his older brother. Peter’s hair was cut short and combed conservatively. His own was short but styled by running his fingers through it. Peter wore a shirt, tie and slacks under his lab coat unless he was doing his E.R. rotation. David was a jeans kind of guy with an incredibly successful practice. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.
“Do you have a minute?” David asked.
“Of course. Glad you stopped by. Have a seat.” Peter indicated the two chairs in front of his desk.
“Thanks.” David took the one on the left because nine out of ten people would have gone to the right. Old habits died hard. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon after Dad’s funeral.”
“Yeah.” The knot in David’s chest tightened.
“I wish the visit was under more pleasant circumstances. Thanks for coming by to look in on Janie Albright.”
“I was in New York for a conference anyway.”
“It was clear when that little girl was brought into the E.R. that her case was more complicated than we could handle. Courtney is part of our hospital community. On top of that, she’s a widow struggling to make ends meet.”
“I gathered that.” And a whole lot more.
“How’s Janie?”
“I did the superficial repairs and they’re healing nicely. But she’ll need another surgery for the more complicated reconstruction.”
Peter frowned as he nodded. “From what I understand about her circumstances, that will be tough on Courtney. Besides the medical costs, there’s no one on staff here at the hospital who can handle that kind of procedure. It will add expenses that she can’t afford.”
“I can recommend an expert in plastics as close to Walnut River as possible.”
“I’m sure Courtney would appreciate that.” Peter thought for a moment. “The hospital might have some programs to assist her financially. I’ll check into that.” He leaned back in his chair and linked his fingers over his flat abdomen. “So, how does it feel being back here?”
“The truth?”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“Weird,” David said, not sure how to put it into words. “Brings back memories of Dad.”
“From the expression on your face I gather the memories aren’t good ones.”
David glanced up. “Some good. Some not so good. Some downright bad.”
“You just described life, little brother.”
David laughed. “I guess so.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Dad?”
“Not really.” What was the point? His father was gone, along with any chance of making things right. The emptiness inside him opened just a little wider. “But I would like to talk about the hospital.”
“I’m glad you brought it up.”
“Oh?”
Peter leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “It’s nice having Ella here—on a personal and a professional basis.”
David tamped down an odd feeling of third-man-out and reminded himself that he had a pretty great life. “Yeah.”
Of all the siblings, only Anna and David had chosen to live elsewhere. The thought of his adopted sister didn’t bring back warm memories. In fact, life as he’d known it had changed dramatically when his parents took her in. Again he had the feeling he should be over it, but couldn’t quite pull that off.
“Ella’s a damn fine surgeon and her specialty is a welcome addition to the staff here at General. We needed someone in orthopedics.”
“You’re lucky to have her. Although, from what I’ve seen it’s good for her, too. This is a terrific facility.”
“I’m very proud of it,” Peter said, intensely serious. “So was Dad.”
David felt a twinge of regret that his father had been pleased with this hospital—a building—and not his own son. For the third time his inner child was acting like a child. Nothing like a trip down memory lane to make a guy feel all grown up, he thought ruefully. It was time to get out of here.
“That’s great,” he said, standing. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but—”
