Hot-Shot Doc Comes to Town. Susan Carlisle
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man nodded agreement. Shelby left as Taylor untaped the suture kit.
Over an hour later Shelby stood beside the front desk ready to call her next patient. She watched as Taylor saw Mr. and Mrs. Hardy out with instructions to return in a couple of days.
Taylor approached the desk and stepped close enough she could smell the soap on his skin that she’d placed in his bath. “We need to talk.”
A shiver ran up her spine. “Is something wrong with Mr. Hardy?”
“Your office,” he said in a low voice.
“You don’t order me around.”
“Do you really want to broadcast our discussion to the entire county?” He turned his back to the handful of people in the waiting room. “I don’t think you want people to know their doctor’s little secret.”
Her stomach dropped. He wasn’t going to let what he’d learned pass without comment. She entered the office ahead of him. He came in and closed the door.
“What’ve you got to say that can’t wait until after our patients are gone?” she demanded.
Taylor leaned causally against the door, crossing his arms over his chest and one foot over the other, a slight grin on his lips. “Interesting, a doctor who can’t stand the sight of blood,” he stated in complete amazement.
“I’m a general practitioner. I don’t have to deal with blood to do my job well,” she huffed.
“I guess you don’t. But you must’ve had a devil of a time getting through emergency rotation in med school.”
She looked him directly in the eyes. “I worked through it.”
“Yeah, I could see how well you’re working through it in there with Mr. Hardy.” He had to admire her fortitude. She looked as if she was determined to do what had to be done, even at a cost to herself.
“You won’t tell, will you?”
He wished he could tease her and make her think that he would but her wide-eyed, pleading look softened his heart. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“You know, I would’ve stitched up Mr. Hardy if you hadn’t been here. Wouldn’t have enjoyed it but I would’ve gotten it done. Patients with major injuries don’t normally come to the clinic. His wife refusing to drive outside Benton is the only reason they stopped here. Otherwise they would’ve gone straight to Nashville or Jackson.”
“Either one of those places is around a hundred miles away.”
“I know. Mr. Hardy could’ve gone into shock before he got there.”
Shelby gave him a grateful look that made him feel heroic. “I appreciate your help.”
The frustration she felt over her weakness shone in her large gray eyes. The desire to take her in his arms and reassure her that she wasn’t failing her patients flooded him. Taylor resisted the urge. Shelby wouldn’t appreciate him noting her flaw any more than he’d already had. He shrugged. “I’m glad I was here too. The old man required a number of stitches.”
Taylor had actually found Mr. Hardy’s case interesting. Chainsaw accidents weren’t common inside a metropolitan area. To his surprise, he’d enjoyed talking to the tell-it-like-it-is man. Straightening, Taylor prepared to open the door. “I did some of my finest work. He’ll have scars but nothing as extensive as they could’ve been.”
“Well, I’m glad it worked out for you and Mr. Hardy,” Shelby said in a mocking tone.
She made it sound as if Taylor had caused the accident so he could show off his skills. At least that sad expression had left her eyes. He ignored her remark and asked, “So what’s the plan when I’m gone?”
“The plan is to go on as I have been and look for a doctor who’s trained in emergency medicine. Someone willing to work here at least part time.”
“Well, it won’t be me. I’m going to do what’s required. Then I’m gone. Don’t be getting any ideas.”
“I don’t have any ideas about you one way or another. Uncle Gene said he was sending me some help for a couple of weeks. The minute I met you I knew you wouldn’t be staying long.”
He didn’t understand why that remark annoyed him. He didn’t like her thinking she knew him that well. “Why?”
“Well, let’s see,” she said with a sassy bob to her head, “car, clothes, attitude. All are a dead giveaway.”
He’d covered his past well. Had worked hard at it. Taylor stepped closer, stopping just outside her personal space. Her eyes shifted with apprehension. He made her nervous and he liked it.
Leaning down to her eye level, he said, “You of all people should know that appearances aren’t always how things are.” He paused. “For example, a doctor who hates the sight of blood.”
A knock on the door punctuated his statement.
“It’s standing room only out here,” Carly called.
“Maybe you’d better go do what you have to do,” Shelby said in an ice-cold voice as she moved past him to hold open the door.
Taylor spent Wednesday morning seeing patients, only able to snatch a quick lunch before the afternoon influx of people into the waiting room. Despite working in a small-town clinic, he was still keeping large trauma center hours. It amazed him that Shelby had managed to hold it together without help for so long. She had to be mentally and physically exhausted. The clinic was definitely a two-person setup, and three would be better.
Late that afternoon, Taylor trailed behind his latest patient as he left. Going to the front to call his next one, he was pleasantly surprised to find that there was no one else needing attention. Shelby was busy giving Carly directions and shifting through papers at the same time. The picture had become so commonplace it seemed like he’d been working at the Benton Clinic for ever. It amazed him that he didn’t feel more like an outsider.
He and Shelby had only spoken a few words to each other the entire day. For some reason, he’d missed their sparring. If nothing else it brought a little spark to the backwater town, something to challenge his mind.
The bell on the door rang. The peace hadn’t lasted long enough for him to even say something that would aggravate Shelby. A girl of around sixteen with large, gloomy eyes and long blonde hair entered looking as if she’d like to turn and run. She wore a simple dress covering too much of her body for the warm day. The girl hesitated as the door closed behind her.
Shelby must have realized that the three of them looking at the girl was intimidating because she stepped forward and offered her hand. “I’m Dr. Wayne. Can I help you?”
The girl nodded but didn’t make eye contact.
“Come this way.” Shelby led the teen down the hall.
Ten minutes later Taylor entered the small lab area to find Shelby facing the counter, gripping it so hard the veins on the top of her hands stood out. She kept her head down.
He closed the door. “What’s wrong?” he asked, keeping his voice low and stepping closer. “What’s happened?” He didn’t try to keep his concern out of his voice.
Shelby’s actions seemed out of character. Even when blood had been an issue she’d hung tough, but now …
“Nothing.” Her tone said differently.
“Something’s obviously wrong. Let me help.”
She turned so quickly that she caught him off guard. Her eyes glistened and her face was drawn with misery. “Really? You think you can help,” she muttered. “I have an unwed pregnant teen in there …” she gestured toward the door across the hall “… who’s terrified to talk to her parents. When she does find the courage to tell her family about the