Bachelor Remedy. Carol Ross
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THIS HOSPITAL, Ms. Mowak, we don’t treat patients with dirt.” Dr. Robert P. Boyd leveled his glacier-blue glare at Ally. He even looked like ice, she decided, with his white hair and snowy-smooth skin. The sharp edges of his shoulders and elbows jutted against his white jacket.
So much for her hope that Dr. Boyd wouldn’t get wind of her use of clay on Louis’s wounds. Poof went her plan to ease into a relationship with the chief physician at Rankins Hospital.
Ally already knew that an education, even one as extensive as a doctorate, didn’t guarantee wisdom. Knowledge, sure. Wisdom, not so much.
Her grandfather, Abe Mowak, had been using medicinal clays on patients ever since Ally could remember. Clay from Sullivan’s Spring was among his most valued. She’d collected some for him last time she’d visited Jessie, which was how she’d gotten the idea to use it on Louis.
“As an Army medic and a paramedic, I know you’re aware of the proper treatment for lacerations and punctures of this severity.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dr. Ramsey informed me of the fact that the patient is a relative of yours, but that makes no difference where medical procedures in this hospital are concerned. I acknowledge that Louis’s mother, your aunt I understand, has no problem with it. But trust me when I tell you that family connections are no guarantee when it comes to lawsuits.”
Dr. Boyd flipped through a sheaf of papers on the desk in front of him. Best guess, the file contained her résumé, Army record and reference letters. Then again, there could be anything in there—photos of his grandchildren, sudoku puzzles, his grocery list. The point was to intimidate her. Obviously Dr. Boyd didn’t know her yet.
Flynn Ramsey, Ally’s supervisor and friend, sat beside her. He tilted his head and mouthed a silent “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Ally mouthed back and added a wink.
Dr. Boyd addressed her again. “In case you haven’t had time to consult the hospital’s policy, I’ve had my secretary highlight the portions...”
The reprimand continued, and after much longer than necessary, he finally quieted and looked at Ally expectantly. Apparently it was time for her to respond.
She’d love to tell him exactly what she thought of his antiquated opinions, but she knew better. “Actions heal, words incite” was one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings. But she couldn’t resist trying to plant a seed, at least.
“Have you heard of the antibacterial properties of mineral clay, Dr. Boyd?”
“That’s what antibiotics are for, Ms. Mowak. Perhaps you’ve heard of penicillin?”
Perhaps you’ve heard of MRSA, Dr. Boyd? The sarcastic retort tap-danced silently across her tongue. Ally knew that Rankins Hospital had battled a bout of the antibiotic-resistant staph bacteria a few months back. MRSA and other superbugs like it were a direct result of the overuse of antibiotics. But she didn’t say that, either. She wouldn’t want the inference to be that she thought Louis shouldn’t receive antibiotics. Dr. Boyd seemed like the word-twisting type.
Then there was the fact that this was her first day on the job, a job she’d been training for and working toward her entire life. Her grandfather had sacrificed so much for her. No way would she let him down by getting fired before she even started. She knew that technically Dr. Boyd alone couldn’t fire her. That decision would require a vote by the entire hospital board. But Dr. Boyd was the ultimate medical authority here at the hospital, and she knew that her job, as well as her overarching mission, would go so much smoother if she could establish a good relationship with him.
“Of course,” she responded. “I’m a huge proponent of antibiotics when administered correctly. I’m grateful Dr. Ramsey prescribed them for Louis.” Ally flipped an appreciative smile in Flynn’s direction.
Dr. Boyd sat back and studied her. His long surgeon’s fingers curled over the arms of his chair, where they twitched menacingly like two hungry albino spiders.
An awkward silence ensued. “Now, I realize this is your first day on the job as our new hospital liaison.”
“Yes, it is, sir. And I appreciate your taking the time to go over these important rules with me. Working here at Rankins Hospital is a dream come true, and I assure you I’ll do whatever is necessary to make a smooth transition, including rereading the handbook the hospital has provided and reviewing all of these highlighted notes.”
Dr. Boyd sniffed and adjusted his glasses. “That sounds fine.”
Ally thought he looked suitably defused, so she stood. “If there’s nothing further then, I’m anxious to get to work.”
* * *
APPROXIMATELY TWENTY MINUTES later Ally was still trying to calm down. Seated behind her new desk inside her new office, she read her new job description for about the millionth time. Certain sections seemed to glow from the pages, reminding her why she was here: To facilitate patient care regarding medical treatment, procedures, hospital stays and preventative care... Appropriate consideration must be taken regarding the age, gender, ethnicity and religious beliefs of the patient...
Simple words, yet so open to interpretation and incredibly challenging to implement. The knot already bunching in her stomach tightened. Did her grandfather know the monumental task she was facing here? Of course he did. She wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have faith in her.
From the depths of her soul, she believed there had to be a way for traditional and modern medicine to meet peacefully, to merge, even. Yet she knew, and both her grandfather’s and her own experiences had taught her, how difficult the concept was for some people to accept. She hadn’t intended to wave her opinions around her new workplace quite so blatantly, and wouldn’t have, if Louis wasn’t a relative.
A knock startled her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she saw a vaguely familiar male figure filling the open doorway. A tall figure, she couldn’t help but notice—very tall and lean. The Mariners T-shirt he wore predisposed her to like him, and she couldn’t help but appreciate the way it stretched nicely across his muscled chest. Longish dark brown hair curled over his forehead and at least a day’s growth of stubble shaded his jaw.
Handsome face, she noted, but it didn’t look like a happy one.
“Good morning, Ms. Mowak. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
Long strides carried him into the room. “How’s your cousin?”
Now she had the feeling she should definitely know him. “He’s doing very well, thank you. He should be released in a day or two. Do you know Louis?”
One brow ticked up. “Just from yesterday.”
“Oh, were you part of the medical team treating him?”
He gave his head a little shake. “Ms. Mowak, I met you yesterday. Pilot?”
“Your name is Pilot? I have a cousin named Jett.”
One hand came up to scrub his chin. “No, I was the pilot who flew you and your cousin in from Jasper Lake.”
That was it. “Oh, yes, of course. Mr....?” Had he ever said his name?
“Tag. Tag James. From Copper Crossing Air Transport.”
“Sorry, I didn’t...remember you.”
“Yeah, I got that,” he answered flatly.
Ugh. This was uncomfortable, although she wasn’t sure why exactly. She recalled the brief interchange about which hospital to fly to and realized she might have been a tad short with him.
“Your landing was excellent, by the way. That, I remember.”
“My landing?” He repeated the word like he hadn’t quite heard her correctly.
“Yes.