Mending the Doctor's Heart. Tina Radcliffe

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Mending the Doctor's Heart - Tina Radcliffe


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      Ben looked away, then slid his phone from his pocket, grimacing when he saw the time. “I hate to Heimlich and run, but I’ve got to be somewhere.”

      He pushed open the door of the shop and moved the conversation past the still-lingering crowd and the paramedics who were finishing up, out to the sidewalk.

      “No problem.” She followed him outside. “I’m sure we’ll meet again. Paradise is a small town.”

      “Do you live here?”

      “I grew up in Paradise.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned closer, her voice conspiratorial. “But the truth is, I’m here about a job.”

      “Oh?” Ben froze, his mind calculating. How many medical positions could there be in a community this size? He’d done his homework. Paradise Hospital itself only had four physicians on staff, and there were a handful of family-practice physicians scattered throughout the valley.

      Though he didn’t want to ask, he had to. “What position, if you don’t mind my asking?”

      “Clinical Director of the Community Outreach Clinic.”

      This time his brows shot up. If Sara took the response as confusion, she was right.

      Almost.

      “It’s a new program,” she explained. “They’re trying to reach the outlying, underserved rural population and seasonal workers and their families.” Excitement lit her eyes as she spoke. “There’s also a plan for a clinic team to assist during severe weather emergencies that can hit the valley and the foothills.”

      Ben nodded. Oh, he was well versed in the goals, the budget and the vision for the new clinic, all right. Yeah, Sara’s enthusiasm was well placed. The entire project stirred a professional anticipation and energy he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

      “I’ve been waiting years for this clinic to become a reality,” she said.

      The earnestness in her voice brought his own doubts tumbling out. Hadn’t the Lord led him to Paradise and this job?

      Ben met her gaze head-on. “Um, Sara. There’s something you ought to know.”

      She cocked her head in question. “What’s that?”

      “I’m in Paradise interviewing for the same position.”

      * * *

      Sara opened her mouth then closed it. Not really?

      She looked at Ben. His chocolate-brown eyes were unwavering, and the expression on his face said he was very serious.

      That didn’t make sense. The director position had been all but given to her.

      She glanced at the tall, lean man in front of her again, scrutinizing his reserved expression, doing her best to ignore his appeal in the expensive black polo shirt and crisp tan chinos.

      “Awkward,” Ben murmured. He ran a hand through his well-kept dark hair and shook his head.

      “I’ll say.” His discomfort only matched her own. “So, you’re meeting with the medical director today?” she asked.

      “A Dr. Rhoades? Yeah.” Once again he glanced at his phone. “I’ve really got to get going. Been on the road for hours. I need a quick shower and change of clothes.”

      “Where are you staying?”

      “I’ve rented a place.”

      Sara blinked. “Already?”

      He shrugged. “Obviously there was some miscommunication.”

      “You’ve quit your job, as well?”

      “No, I’ve been on a...sabbatical.”

      Was that a flash of pain she saw in his eyes before he looked away? There was obviously a story to be told. One he wasn’t going to share with a stranger.

      “And you?” he asked. “You said you grew up here.”

      “I did, but I live in Boulder. I’ve been back for several weeks now. My father had a cardiac incident.”

      Ben furrowed his brows. “I’m sorry to hear that. He’s okay?”

      “What he is is stubborn.” Sara shook her head. “My reason for moving back to Paradise.”

      He took a step toward the curb. “That’s admirable.”

      “Hardly, but let’s not even go there.” Sara waved a hand in the air. “Besides, you have to get going.”

      His eyes widened a fraction, but she ignored the question on his face.

      “What time is your appointment?” she asked.

      “Two.” He pulled car keys from his pocket.

      “I’m meeting with him at three.”

      “I see. Well, ah, good luck, then.”

      “Thanks. You, too.”

      Ben seemed to hesitate, glancing down at the sidewalk, then up before he spoke again. “Sara.”

      The pleasant sound of her name on his lips surprised her. “Yes?” she asked as their gazes connected.

      “No matter how it turns out, it was nice to have met you.”

      She paused at the words, her response a breathless, “Thank you.”

      With a crooked smile, he turned away.

      Sara followed his easy gait as he walked down the street.

      Oh, no, no. This was not good.

      She shook her head. They’d just met, and not only had Ben Rogers disturbed her plans for the future, but he was disturbing her peace of mind, as well.

      She pulled her cell from her back pocket and punched speed dial. “Is Dr. Rhoades available? This is Sara Elliott calling.”

      A long minute later she heard a familiar voice.

      “Sara, what can I do for you?”

      “Uncle Henry, what’s going on?” She tucked the phone beneath her ear and shoulder while she unlocked her ancient Jeep and yanked open the recalcitrant door on the driver’s side.

      “You’ll have to be more specific, my dear.”

      She slid into the vehicle. “I just met Ben Rogers. Dr. Ben Rogers.”

      Henry Rhoades’s voice perked up. “Ah, yes, and what did you think?”

      “Think? We’ll he’s a little stuffy, but I’m willing to overlook that since he just saved Orvis Carter’s life at Patti Jo’s.”

      “Orvis? At the café, you say? Most commendable.”

      “Yes. It certainly is.” Sara put the key into the ignition and hit the window button, allowing the summer breeze to cool her skin. “The thing is, Uncle Henry, Ben Rogers says he’s here about the clinic director job.”

      The line was quiet before her uncle cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I’ll sort it all out.”

      “Sort it out? Uncle Henry, you never even told me there was another candidate.” She released a frustrated breath. “Be straight with me. Is my father involved in this?”

      “Your father has made a substantial donation to the clinic building project, if that’s what you mean.”

      “I mean, did my father make you offer me the position?” She paused, confused. “And how did my father get involved in funding the clinic?”

      “You know, Sara, the entire situation is rather complicated.”

      She groaned and leaned back against the headrest. “Oh, Uncle Henry.”

      “Now, Sara, you’re


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