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 getting all worked up for nothing. The fact is, the clinic was in dire need of funds for the final phase, and I went to your father for assistance.”
“And he said yes? But that doesn’t make sense. He’s always been adamantly against me becoming a physician, always blaming Mom’s medical career for the accident. Why would he agree to have anything to do with the clinic project?”
“He didn’t. At first.”
Sara released a soft gasp. “Until his heart attack.”
Again the silence stretched before her uncle finally spoke.
“Try to understand, Sara. The last two years since you’ve been gone have been very difficult for your father. He’s paid penance for his sins. I believe he’s willing to do anything to keep his daughter in Paradise.”
“What you mean is, he tried to buy me a husband and that didn’t work, so now he’s buying me a career.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. Things are not exactly what you think.”
She slapped the steering wheel with an open palm. The truth was, things were exactly as she thought. Sara bit her lip. There was no point taking out her frustration on her uncle. Hollis Elliott had struck again. No doubt her uncle was between a rock and a hard place.
“I should withdraw my application.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be evaluated on your merit, you know that. If I had realized you were seriously contemplating a permanent move back to Paradise, I would have told you about the position straight away, instead of waiting for Hollis to make the suggestion. But considering your departure...”
“I know. I know.” Sara closed her eyes. “You don’t have to say it. I let you down last time, and I’m sorry.”
Henry Rhoades continued, “I have Dr. Rogers scheduled for 2 p.m. Why don’t you come by shortly after that?”
“What are you up to?”
“Why, nothing. No worries, dear.”
No worries? Well, she was worried. Very worried, because the last time her father had interfered in her life she’d lost everything, and she wasn’t ready for that to happen again.
The Lord had led her back to Paradise; she could only pray He would give her the courage to stay this time.
Chapter Two
Ben cranked up the air-conditioning in the Land Rover to subzero and leaned back against the leather seat as he stared at the cluster of buildings that made up the medical quadrant. He wiped his palms on his dark slacks and took a deep breath. Dr. Rhoades’s office was in the administrative building adjacent to the hospital. Not actually in the hospital at all.
I can do this.
Sure he could. Because otherwise, how was he going to explain that he was a highly credentialed internist with hospital phobia?
Ben adjusted his tie and slid out of the vehicle. He was a professional, and this wasn’t rational. Yeah, he knew that in his heart as well as his head, but the anxiety attacks didn’t pay much attention to rationale.
Focused, he walked up the covered walkway, into the lobby and the elevator and pushed the button.
Elevators. Why couldn’t he get sweaty palms and heart palpitations when he entered closed spaces? Claustrophobia was acceptable. Nosocomephobia, the fear of hospitals? Not so much.
A blonde receptionist in a floating ivory dress smiled and took his name.
“Dr. Rhoades will see you shortly. Make yourself at home. Oh, and Dr. Rogers, welcome to Paradise.”
“Ah, thank you.” So why did he suddenly feel like he was waiting for admission to the Pearly Gates?
The urge to bolt welled up inside of him. Tamping down anxiety, Ben rubbed the back of his neck as he paced back and forth, inspecting the framed photos of the hospital staff on the white walls.
He knew when he applied for the position that this day would come. But was he ready? Actually getting the job seemed as terrifying as the possibility of being turned down.
“Dr. Rogers, you may go in now.”
Ben swallowed hard and adjusted his tie one last time before crossing the threshold to Medical Director Dr. Henry Rhoades’s sanctum. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along the far side of the room, ushering in streams of sunlight and offering an unobstructed view of the mountain peaks in the distance. Distracted by the scenery, Ben was taken by surprise when a robust silver-haired gentleman in a wheelchair stopped in front of him.
Dr. Rhoades?
The man in the chair wore a crisp blue shirt with the sleeves haphazardly shoved up to reveal muscular forearms. His striped navy tie was slightly askew.
“Dr. Rogers.” He struck out a hand. “Delighted to finally meet you.”
Henry Rhoades’s grin lit up his round face. The man’s smile and the bright green eyes behind his wire-rimmed spectacles seemed somewhat familiar, but Ben couldn’t quite place why.
“Thank you, sir,” he said.
“I heard about your heroics at the café. Well done.”
“Hardly heroics, sir. Dislodged a chocolate-chunk cookie. The Friday special, I understand.”
Dr. Rhoades chuckled. “None the less, it only reaffirms your curriculum vitae. Exemplary.”
“Thank you.”
“You met Dr. Elliott, as well.”
Ben frowned, confused. How could the man possibly know he’d met Sara Elliott less than two hours ago?
Henry Rhoades wheeled himself behind the large oak desk with practiced ease and picked up a file. “Please have a seat. Relax.”
Following instructions, Ben did his best imitation of relaxing. “Yes, we did meet, and I have to admit that after talking to her, I’m a little confused. My last conversation with you indicated the final interview was, well...”
“A formality.”
“Yes, sir.”
“At the time I spoke to you, that’s exactly what it was, and as I said, your credentials are
excellent. You were my first choice.”
Were?
“But I’ll get to that in a moment.” Dr. Rhoades glanced down at the now open folder on his desk. “Tell me about this sabbatical you’ve been on.”
Ben took a calming breath. “My sister died six months ago. I needed a break.”
“Your sister.” Henry Rhoades paused, taken aback for a moment. “My condolences.”
When the older man narrowed his eyes and stared at him, Ben realized he was seeing far too much. He glanced away from the perceptive gaze and instead watched the play of dappled light that streamed in through the window, its prism bending as it reached out and landed on a silver picture frame on the desk. The picture was of a young child and a woman laughing.
Dr. Rhoades cleared his throat and continued. “Loss is never easy. Are you sure you’re ready to get back to work?”
“Sir, I’m committed to giving you one hundred percent.”
“Fair enough.”
For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of a large antique clock on a bookshelf.
“Well now, let’s get to the point. Dr. Elliott’s father has become the benefactor for the new clinic. The project seemed stalled in perpetuity—until he stepped in.”
Sara Elliott’s father? Ben tried to wrap his mind around that bomb of information.
“I see.” What did he see? That his chance at redemption was being cancelled out by a bankroll? The gates to Paradise were closing fast, and he’d barely gotten his foot inside. He had to do something.
“The timing of this has me puzzled,” Ben admitted.
“Understandable. I apologize for that.” Dr. Rhoades removed his glasses, wiped a spot from the lens with his tie, and then slid them back on the bridge of his nose. “Hollis Elliott suffered a cardiac arrest less than a month ago. When Sara returned home, naturally her father saw a window of opportunity for his only child to remain in Paradise. Unfortunately it was only a few days ago that he notified me of his wishes, and by then the candidates for the position had already been narrowed down to you.”
Ben took a deep breath. So where did that leave him in the equation? One plus one was still two as far as he could tell, and there was only a single open position.
Henry Rhoades frowned for moment. “I trust you will keep what I’m about to say confidential.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve been the medical director here in Paradise for over twenty-five years. One thing I have learned is that sometimes it’s better to proceed and apologize later than ask permission.” He winked, and once again Ben couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen that mischievous glimmer before.
“Sir?”
“Stay with me for a moment. I do eventually arrive at my destination.”
Ben nodded, amused and concerned at the same time. This was like no other job interview he could remember. Physician interviews were generally so starched, he could barely breathe. Yet Dr. Henry Rhoades was about as laid-back as they come, leaving Ben struggling to figure the man out, much less where the convoluted conversation would lead.
“Bequeaths and donations go directly to the hospital foundation, which is overseen by the Board of Trustees. The clinic is under that same board, so I have gone to them for assistance in resolving this situation. While Hollis Elliott’s generous funding has made the last phase of the clinic project possible, I am not without options.”
The phone on his desk buzzed.
“Excuse me.” He picked up the receiver. “Yes. Thank you. Send her in.”
The door opened, and Sara Elliott walked into the room.
Sara had changed clothes and now wore a simple yet elegant navy dress, her long hair free and flowing. This was quite a transformation from the cowgirl he’d met earlier.
Surprised, Ben caught his breath before he immediately stood. And stumbled.
Way to go, Rogers. Grace under pressure.
“Are you all right?” she murmured.
“Yeah. The carpet tripped me.” He adjusted his suit coat and cleared his throat.
A soft laugh tumbled from her lips. “Happens to me all the time.”
“Sara, my dear.” Henry Rhoades smiled. “You’ve met Dr. Rogers.”
“I have.”
Ben paused and cocked his head at the warm tone in Dr. Rhoades’s conversation with Sara. A warning bell sounded somewhere, but he dismissed it. After all, Paradise was a small town, and her father was, after all, the financier behind the clinic.
“I had the opportunity to see Dr. Rogers in action today,” she continued.
“Yes, and no doubt he will be on the front page of the Paradise Observer,” Dr. Rhoades said with a nod toward him.
Sara smiled as her gaze met Ben’s. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Ben blinked. Surely they weren’t serious.
Once Sara had settled in the leather Windsor wing chair next to his, Ben sat down again.
Henry Rhoades steepled his fingers and assessed them both over the rim of his glasses. “Now then, the matter at hand is the clinic position. What I’m proposing is that you work together this summer.”
Sara’s eyes widened as she looked from Dr. Rhoades to him. “Together?” She slowly repeated the word that had lodged in Ben’s own throat.
From directing a clinic to job sharing in less than thirty minutes.
“Yes,” Dr. Rhoades answered. “I’ve spoken to the board, and they are willing to subsidize two doctors through the first of September. At that time we’ll assess our options.”
“That’s a little over eight weeks from now. Are you saying we’re going to share the position for the entire eight weeks?” Sara asked, her tone incredulous.
“Since the clinic officially opens late September, there’s more than enough work to keep you both busy. Interviewing medical staff. Ordering supplies. Then there’s accreditation. I can assure you the time will pass very quickly.”
“I don’t know,” she murmured. “A lot can happen in eight weeks.”
“Precisely,” Dr. Rhoades responded with an enthusiastic wag of his index finger. “Think of this as a personal and professional due diligence. Paradise needs someone who’s ready to commit to a future here.”
Pink now tinged Sara’s high cheekbones. She grimaced and clasped her hands tightly in her lap.
“Eight weeks is plenty of opportunity to discover whether Paradise is a good fit for you and if you’re a good fit for Paradise, wouldn’t you say, Dr. Rogers?”
Confused at the subtle undercurrent, Ben slowly looked from Sara to Henry Rhoades before clearing his throat and agreeing. “Yes, sir.”
What else could he say? Paradise was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn’t...no, he flat-out refused to allow that to happen.
“Excellent.” Dr. Rhoades closed the folder on his desk. “You’re scheduled for Human Resources processing Monday, and then I’ll see you at the clinic on Tuesday. Dress casually. While the construction is basically complete, there is still quite a bit of dust and dirt.”
Ben nodded, but his head continued to spin as he stood. What had just happened? This wasn’t the outcome he’d hoped for, packed up his belongings and driven hours for.
“Have you eaten?” the older man asked.
“Sir?”
“Have you eaten?”
“Almost,” Ben responded.
“Almost?” Dr. Rhoades raised a bushy brow.
“I was headed to Patti Jo’s and never quite made it to a table.”
“Sara, take Dr. Rogers to The Prospector.”
Sara nodded, but didn’t appear any more enthused than he felt at the moment.
“I don’t want to impose,” Ben interjected.
“Nonsense. I’d take you myself, but I’ve got a pr
evious commitment. Besides, you two should get to know each other since you’ll be working very closely together for eight weeks.”
Eight weeks.
Was that enough time to convince Henry Rhoades that he was the right person for the job?
Ben wanted the position more than ever. His troubled spirit had been soothed the moment he drove into the small town. Now he just had to make sure he got what he wanted.
* * *
Sara bit her lip and glanced quickly at Ben once they were seated. “I’m really sorry about this. I never expected that we’d be...” She paused, at a loss for words.
Ben shrugged. “Not exactly what I expected either, but hardly your fault.”
She fiddled with her napkin, grateful when their waitress approached them and slid a stoneware bowl of homemade pickles on the polished pine table.
“What do you recommend?” Ben asked, turning over the menu.
“The valley is known for their beef and bison.” Sara placed an order for a bison burger and handed her menu to the server.
“I’ll have the same thing,” he said.
She looked around at the rustic décor as if seeing it for the first time before meeting Ben’s eyes.
He gave a tight-lipped smile but said nothing.
“So you went to school in Colorado?” Sara asked, eager to ease the palpable tension between them.
“University of Colorado,” Ben said. “You?”
“Baylor.”
“Baylor?” He gave a thoughtful, self-satisfied nod, the implication clear.
Money. That was laughable.
Did he think she was a trust-fund baby? If only. No, she’d financed her education all by herself. At this point, the huge debt from medical school and residency was a tidy sum, the balance of which could probably cover the purchase of a small island in the Caribbean.
“Baylor is sort of a family tradition,” she murmured.
When Ben gave her yet another stiff nod, she put a smile on her face, determined to be polite, at least until the meal was over. She bit into a crisp, sweet pickle and concentrated on the burst of flavor instead of the man in front of her.
“Your father is a physician?” he asked.
Mending the Doctor's Heart Page 2
