Hot-Shot Doc Comes To Town

She popped the top of her diet drink and stared off into space. The sounds of Carly’s high-pitched giggle and Taylor’s deep rumble came from the front. It grew louder as they walked in her direction.

Taylor stopped and let Carly enter Shelby’s office before him. “We decided to go through the drive-in and pick up something. We brought you a burger. Before you argue, I owe you for breakfast and the place to stay.”

Carly’s eyes widened with surprise. “You’re staying at Doc Wayne’s?”

“Yeah.” Taylor pulled one of the spare chairs closer to the desk with his foot.

Carly looked from Taylor to Shelby and back to Taylor.

No telling what the rumor would be if she didn’t clear this up now. “He’s staying in my garage apartment.”

“Oh, I thought—”

“I know what you thought.” Shelby said in a tight voice.

Already this man was disrupting her life. Carly would have that information spread far and wide by the end of the day.

Maybe Uncle Gene could have sent her someone else less … She couldn’t think of the word. Intrusive? Disruptive? Attractive?

Taylor sat down in one of the two folding chairs that suddenly appeared child-size beneath his large body and started digging through the paper bag in his hand. He acted as if he took his meals in a tiny, shabby office every day. It didn’t take long for Taylor to act like he belonged. Carly took the other chair and he handed her a burger wrapped in paper before his hand slipped into the bag again. Pulling out another burger, he offered it to Shelby.

When she hesitated he said, “Take it. Don’t act like you don’t want it.”

Shelby wished that wasn’t the truth. She reached for the offered package. By the time she’d eaten a couple of bites of hers Taylor had already finished his first burger and was searching the bag for another.

The tinkle of the bell hanging on the door sounded.

“Doc Wayne! Doc Wayne!”

The urgent cry made Shelby stand and head towards the door. Taylor had hurried out and was moving up the hall by the time she stepped from the office.

The metallic smell of blood reached her nose before she saw the bright red drops on the floor. It seeped through the rag wrapped around Mr. Hardy’s arm. Shelby’s stomach rolled like a boat on a stormy sea, making her wish she hadn’t eaten.

She mentally braced herself. She could do this.

“Sir,” Taylor said, “I’m Dr. Stiles. Come back to the exam room and we’ll see what we’ve got here.”

For once Shelby was glad to have Taylor take over. When the injured man, in his mid-fifties, gave her a questioning look she said, “He’s a trauma doctor. You’re in good hands.”

Shelby believed those words. Was it because of the way Taylor led with confidence or because of the quality of care she’d seen him provide? Either way, it kept her from having to deal with the blood.

“Carly,” she called, “get out a suture kit in exam one. Now.” She turned to the pale-faced woman left standing in the waiting room. Shelby took her arm and led her to a chair.

“Wait here, Mrs. Hardy. We’ll let you see him as soon as we can.”

Shelby headed toward the exam room. “Carly, get Mrs. Hardy a drink and sit with her. She looks a little shaken,” Shelby said as she passed the girl in the hall.

In the examination room, Taylor gingerly unwrapped the rag from around the man’s arm. Stepping to the table, she asked, “Mr. Hardy, what did you do to yourself?”

“I was cutting a limb off a tree that’d been damaged during the storm last week. Darn chainsaw kicked back and got me.”

Shelby took a fortifying breath as Taylor revealed the gnarled flesh on Mr. Hardy’s forearm. She’d never been a fan of blood to start with but after seeing so much of Jim’s pouring from his body, her aversion to it had become worse. Red liquid continued to slowly drip onto the white cloth covering the table. “Looks like it got you three times before it let go,” Taylor remarked as he examined the man’s arm. “I don’t see any bone damage.”

“Do you mind if I have a look?” Shelby asked, stepping forward. Cases like these were her least favorite but she’d learned to deal with them because she was usually the only doctor available. She wouldn’t let this know-it-all doctor make her look weak in front of a patient who would be hers long after he’d gone home.

Taylor shifted to the right so she could have a better view. Shelby gently rotated the arm. “Does that hurt?” Her stomach chose that moment to make a Waikiki surfing wave. She hoped her face didn’t give away to Mr. Hardy and Taylor how awful she felt.

“No,” the middle-aged man said.

She gently eased the man’s arm down on the table. Her hands trembled and she tightened her jaw, willing her throat not to spasm. If she focused on what she was doing, she could get through it. She had before and she would again. “Well, I don’t see any damage past the skin, which is good news. We just need to get you stitched up.”

Something made her look at Taylor. He was studying her too closely for her comfort. Seconds later a look of realization entered his dark expressive eyes then surprise.

“Dr. Wayne,” he said, his tone all business, “do you mind if I do the suturing? It’s my expertise and I don’t see many chainsaw injuries where I’m from.”

A sense of relief washed over her. She looked at Mr. Hardy questioningly.

“I don’t mind. Just need to get it done. My wife’s already mad ‘cos I got blood all over her freshly mopped kitchen floor.”

The bell on the door sounded and Carly spoke to someone. “If you have this,” Shelby said to Taylor, “I’ll go see this other patient.”

Taylor glanced up at Mr. Hardy, “We’re good here?”

The 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 baby she also has to explain to them that she has a venereal disease. So just how can you help with this?”

Her bold stare said he couldn’t fix this no matter what he did. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right.

“I can’t help her but I can help you.” He gathered Shelby into his arms. What was he doing? Nurses, other female doctors had been upset in his presence and he’d never hugged them. Something about Shelby made him want to comfort her, help her with her problems. Be there for her. He winced. That was something he couldn’t do. How had he become so involved in her life so quickly?

She resisted, remaining rigid against him. “Please let me go.”

It pricked his ego that she wouldn’t consent to his comfort, but he schooled his face not to show a reaction. He did as she asked and stepped back, missing the contact immediately. “Would you like me to talk to the girl?”

Shelby shook her head. “No, that’s my job. She’s scared enough without me sending a man in to discuss this. She lives in the county above us and wanted to go where she wouldn’t be recognized. Someone told her that there was a female doctor here.”

“In this day and age she’s hiding? Afraid to tell her parents? The teenage girls I know are proud to be unwed and pregnant.”

“You have to remember that there’re still strong moral standards in this area. Everyone knows everyone. Has an opinion about everything.”

Taylor was well aware of how those concepts worked.

Shelby continued, “Her parents, she says, aren’t going to be happy or accepting.” She moved past him. “I’d better go give her the news.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder and her gaze met his. “Shelby, I wish I could do more than say I’m sorry.”

She gave him a weak smile. “I am too,” she said, before squaring her shoulders and knocking on the door to the exam room across the hall.

Her heart was too big for her own good. For once, Taylor thought that Uncle Gene sentencing him to the clinic had been a good thing. It had allowed him to be there for Shelby today.

The girl left the clinic thirty minutes later with a gentle pat on the shoulder from Shelby and the reassurance that she’d be there if the girl needed her. Shelby said not a word as she passed him. She entered her office and effectively closed everyone out.

After preparing the clinic for the next day, Taylor knocked lightly on the office door. “You ready to close up?”

“You go on. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She needed space and wouldn’t appreciate him insisting she leave. He really shouldn’t care. All doctors ran into cases that got under their skin. The problem was that Shelby cared too deeply. For the girl. For her all her patients.

Who took care of her?

Hours later, Taylor rolled over in bed and looked at the bedside clock for the umpteenth time. It was well past midnight.

Where was she?

With a sense of relief that amazed him he saw Shelby’s headlights flash across the wall of the apartment as she pulled into the drive.

She worked far too hard, felt too much. The clinic, for all he could see, was her life. She took no down time. In his opinion it wasn’t healthy. She needed to slow down or she’d be the one needing a doctor. He knew of few doctors who worked harder than Shelby.

He didn’t want to care. No matter what happened he refused to get involved but with every day he stayed in Benton it made it more difficult to keep his distance. First it had been Mrs. Ferguson, then Mr. Hardy and now he was stressing about a workaholic tyrant of a doctor who lived in a one-red-light town. Heck, he didn’t really know how to care. He’d certainly not gotten an example of how that worked from his family. Could he have picked a more foreign emotion?

The way Shelby’s big gray eyes looked stormy when she was mad and turned soft and sad when she worried over a patient pulled at him. Even her sharp tongue didn’t squelch his anxiety for the turbocharged woman.

Reassured Shelby was safely home, Taylor rolled over and punched his pillow, knowing he could now find sleep. He’d no idea why it mattered to him what she did. Shelby had been fine before he’d arrived and she’d be fine after he left.

But who would be there for her when she needed a shoulder to lean on next time?

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