I was offered scholarships to a number of universities and chose Carleton, in Ottawa, which had a good neuroscience program. I chose not to live in residence because I wanted to live alone and focus on my studies. It paid off later when I was offered spots at three different medical schools across the country. I decided to accept the offer from Dalhousie, in Nova Scotia, because I wanted to broaden my horizons and see something of the world outside of Ontario. And something about living on the Atlantic coast struck a resonating chord in me.
I completed my family medicine residency in Halifax and chose to settle on the South Shore in the small picturesque seaside community of Chester. Imagine giant pine trees, hundreds of private rocky coves to explore, and a plethora of yachts and sailboats out on the Bay on Sunday afternoons.
As far as work was concerned, I wasn’t contributing anything extraordinary to neurological research, nor was I saving lives on the operating table. I chose to be a small town doctor who mostly wrote prescriptions for ear and sinus infections, helped educate patients about high cholesterol and heart disease, and covered the ER in the Bridgewater Hospital a few times a month. The most complicated procedure of an entire week might be the removal of a fishing hook from a lobsterman’s finger, or the plastering of a cast on a twelve-year-old’s arm after he was slammed too hard against the boards during a hockey tournament.
For the most part, it was pretty basic stuff, but then, on a regular Monday afternoon – during one of the hottest summers anyone could remember in half a century – she entered my office.
And my true purpose in the world became clear.
Chapter Thirty-seven
“HONESTLY, I DON’T know what’s wrong with her.”
Abigail Smith – a curvy, knockout of a woman with golden hair and blue eyes – struggled to hold her daughter still on the examination table. Marissa was twenty-two months old and flailed about like a banshee, screaming her lungs out.
“She never cries like this,” Abigail said. “Something is definitely wrong, but she doesn’t have a fever. She keeps wincing and lifting her shoulders, like the pain is inside her head. I’m in a panic, Dr. Hamilton. You know about my husband, right? He died of a brain aneurysm not long after Marissa was born, before you came here. It was very sudden, but he complained about a headache just before. What if the same thing is happening to Marissa?”
I flicked on my otoscope to look inside Marissa’s left ear. “Just hold her still for a minute. That’s good. Everything looks clear here. I need to check the other one.” Abigail and I switched places while Marissa continued to scream. “And brain aneurysms are rare,” I said as I leaned forward to look inside. “This could be anything. A simple ear infection. Ah. I see the problem.”
“What is it?”
I straightened and turned off my otoscope. “There’s a small spider in the canal, trapped up against her ear drum.”
Marissa screamed again.
Abigail’s giant blue eyes blinked a few times, and her head drew back in surprise. “You’re kidding me. Oh God, can you get it out? It’s not going to crawl into her brain is it?”
I chuckled, mostly to help Abigail relax – though the flush in her cheeks was quite attractive and I was finding it difficult not to stare. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll have it out of there in a minute or two, but I’ll need you to lay her down on her side and hold her still. Can you do that?”
“Yes, but how did it get in there?” she shouted over her daughter’s shrill cries, while I went to fill a syringe with saline.
“Who knows,” I replied. “It could have happened anywhere. A spider landed on my arm just the other day while I was driving. Rappelled down from the roof on a strand of web. It’s nothing you did.”
“How big is it?” she asked with concern.
“It’s very small. Just a baby, like Marissa.” I approached the table and leaned over her, and was surprised when Marissa looked me directly in the eye, and stopped crying when I spoke. “I’m going to flush some water into your ear, kiddo. Then you’ll feel better, okay?”
She blinked up at me, glanced at the syringe, and nodded.
“Just lie still,” I said. I gently pushed the saline into her ear canal, and the spider swam out. I grabbed hold of him with a pair of tweezers and placed him in a stainless steel bowl. “There. All gone. You can sit up now, Marissa.”
Her forehead and cheekbones were blotchy from crying so hard, and she wiped her eyes with her small fist.
Abigail picked her up and held her. She turned away from me. “There, there, it’s all right now. You did great, sweetheart. You were very brave.”
“All gone,” Marissa said, looking at me over her mother’s shoulder. She reached out with her little hand, and I took hold of her fingers for a moment, smiling at her. Something inside me turned over like a stalled car engine coming to life.
“She’s going to be fine,” I said as Abigail faced me again. I was forced to let go of Marissa’s hand.
“Thank you, Doctor Hamilton,” Abigail said. “You saved the day.”
Her smile was brighter than the sun.
I think I fell for both of them simultaneously that afternoon. It was love at first sight with no reasonable explanation. I had only just met Abigail. All I knew was that I was completely captivated, and I hated watching them walk out of my office. Thankfully, it would not be long before I saw them again.
A week later, I bumped into Abigail at the grocery store. We were both there to buy fresh local corn. Marissa sat cheerfully in the cart, swinging her little legs back and forth.
“Hi Marissa!” I said. “Do you remember me?”
“This is Dr. Hamilton,” Abigail offered. “He helped you last week when your ear was hurting.”
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Good!” Marissa replied with a happy smile.
I complimented her on the pretty dress she was wearing, and the bright red sneakers on her feet.
“And how are you, Dr. Hamilton?” Abigail asked, while we stood beside each other pulling the hairy green husks back to examine the freshness of the cobs inside.
“Very well, thanks.”
“Have you flushed any more spiders out of patients’ ears since I last saw you?”
“Can’t say that I have,” I replied with a chuckle, “but I’m sure Marissa’s spider won’t be the last.”
Abigail tossed another cob into the paper bag she had propped open on the pile, and leaned close to speak privately to me. “I just hope there won’t be any latent symptoms of arachnophobia. I hope she doesn’t start screaming every time she sees a bug.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about,” I said. “She seems like a tough kid. She probably won’t even remember what happened.”
“But I will,” Abigail replied with a shudder. “Pardon me for saying so, but it totally freaked me out. It’s a good thing I didn’t know what was in there, or you may have had to call in your nurse to hold me down, too.”
I laughed. “You were good with her. She’s a lucky girl.”
Abigail was quiet for a moment while she peeled back another husk. “Thank you. I appreciate that. It hasn’t been easy, the past year.”
My speed at peeling husks slowed. Actually, I only wanted to purchase three because I was eating alone, but I now had six in my bag.
“Your husband...?” I gently asked.
She nodded. “He was a good man and a wonderful father. I never imagined I’d end up as a single mother.”
“I’m sorry. Do you have family around here to help you?”
“Yes, thank goodness. My mother-in-law’s a godsend. She moved in with us after Gordon died, so I was eventually able to return to work, and I didn’t have to put Marissa in daycare. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I replied. “What do you do?”
“I teach at the high school.”
“What subject?”
“Art and En
glish.”
“Where did you go to school?” I asked, wondering if we might have been at Dal together.
“I got my degrees in Idaho,” she explained. “That’s where I’m from originally, but I have dual citizenship because of Gordon, who was from here. We met in Florida on spring break, believe it or not. I know... so cliché. We kept in touch and had a long-distance relationship, then got married and decided to settle here. I really love Canada, especially Nova Scotia. It’s so laid back and everyone’s so friendly. Drivers actually stop for you at crosswalks.”
By now we had moved on from the corn bin, and were cruising the lettuce section.
“I know what you mean,” I said. “I grew up in Toronto. Great city, but it’s a very different world.”
“And where did you go to school?”
I told her about Carleton and Dal, and she asked about my family. I explained that my father had died when I was very young, and that my mother still lived in Toronto, but we didn’t keep in touch.
“She remarried a few years ago,” I told her. “I attended her wedding, but that was the last time we saw each other. She’s never been to Nova Scotia.”
“And what about you?” Abigail said as she dropped two broccoli crowns into a plastic bag and tied it shut. “Are you married?”
“No. I work too much.”
“Well that is something you should remedy,” Abigail said. “Life is short, Dr. Hamilton. Enjoy every minute while you can.”
This was not news to me, of course, for I was no stranger to death. Not only in my profession, but in my personal life as well.
“Words to live by,” I said.
Abigail gestured over her shoulder. “You were buying a lot of corn back there. Big plans for dinner?”
“No, none,” I replied. “I just like corn.” I wasn’t about to say that I had been distracted by every word she spoke, by the clean fruity fragrance of her shampoo, and those blue eyes that knocked me over every time she looked at me. On top of it all, I couldn’t seem to tear myself away from Marissa, who was still sitting in the cart, politely listening to us as we conversed.
“I like corn, too!” she shouted gleefully, and we both laughed.
Abigail tickled her on the neck. “Yes, you do. And it’s so good for you!” She turned to me. “Are you doing anything for supper, Dr. Hamilton? We’d love to have you join us if you’re free. My mother-in-law will be there, and she’s a terrific cook.”
“First of all, I’m not your regular doctor, so you should call me Ryan. And thank you for the invitation. I accept.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “Great. How about 6:00? Do you know where I live?”
I shook my head.
We stopped our carts and she dug into her purse for a pen and small notepad. She wrote down the address. “It’s off the number 3, to your left if you’re heading toward Mahone Bay.” She ripped off the small sheet of paper and handed it to me.
I slipped it into my shirt pocket. “Thanks. I’ll be there. Can I bring anything?”
“Just yourself,” she said with a smile as she pushed her cart forward and headed toward the back of the store.
I couldn’t help but watch her walk away from me. I liked how her hips swung under that silky pink and white sundress. I don’t think any woman had ever sparked such a natural, immediate fascination in me. There was something so fresh and wholesome about her.
As they rounded the corner of the aisle, Marissa leaned out and waved at me. My heart leapt, and I waved back at her with a giddy smile.
Chapter Thirty-eight
IT WAS GLADYS Smith, Abigail’s mother-in-law, who greeted me at the door. “Welcome, Dr. Hamilton! Come in, come in!”
I crossed the threshold into a wide entrance hall with a view to a large bank of windows that looked out over the water. The floors were light birch hardwood, the walls were painted a clean taupe with white trim, and the furniture was casual, with soft, inviting white sofas and Mexican-styled throws.
“What a great spot,” I said, handing Gladys two bottles of wine – a heavy cabernet and a light pinot grigio, just to cover all the bases.
“Thank you so much,” she replied. “We love it here. It’s quiet and private, and the yard is nice and big for Marissa to play in.”
She escorted me along those immaculately polished floors to the back of the house, which was brightly lit by the sunshine streaming in through the windows. The living room was open to a large cream-colored kitchen to the right, where Abigail was stirring something on the stove. The smell of garlic and spices was intoxicating.
“Hello there.” She turned slightly to look over her shoulder at me, and I was mesmerized again by those incredible blue eyes. “You found the place okay?”
“Yeah, no problem,” I replied. “Great view.” I looked out at the giant sky dotted with white clouds, and the choppy waters over the Bay below.
The house, covered in bleached gray cedar shakes and white trim, was perched high on a grassy hill with a deck that stretched all around.
Right away I noticed Marissa out on the deck playing in a green plastic sandbox shaped like a turtle. She wore a white sunhat on her head.
“And look, he brought wine,” Gladys said, setting both bottles on the shiny granite countertop on the center island. “What do you prefer, doctor? Red or white? Or how about a cocktail? Martini? Gin and tonic? Name your pleasure.”
“I’ll take a glass of water, please,” I replied.
“Still or sparkling.”
“Sparkling, if you have it.”
“We have everything. Slice of lemon?”
“Sounds wonderful.”
I sat down on one of the white leather bar stools at the kitchen island, while Gladys filled a tall crystal tumbler with ice and poured fizzing Perrier into it. Next came the lemon, and I was greatly refreshed.
“Abigail tells me you come from Toronto,” Gladys said. “I hope we don’t lose you to another big city. It’s so hard to keep doctors here. Rural medicine isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, you know.”
“I’m very happy here,” I told her. “I enjoy the quiet here and the slower pace of life. I don’t have any plans to leave, I assure you.”
“Well, that’s a relief. And it’s nice to have a young doctor in town for a change. All we have are the old cronies who are only here to be close their luxury yachts.”
“Gladys...” Abigail gave her a warning look. “I believe Dr. Hamilton also has a boat.”
Gladys pierced me with her gaze. “Do you?”
“Yes,” I replied, “but in my defense, it’s a motor boat, and I bought it used.”
Gladys threw up her hand. “Well, there! You see? You’re not like those old cronies at all.”
Abigail and I shared a knowing smirk.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with boating,” Gladys continued. “I love being out on the water. Don’t you, Abigail?”
“Yes, I do,” she replied as she slid sizzling butter-seared scallops onto a plate and set it on the island in front of me. “You’re not allergic to seafood are you?”
“Heaven forbid,” I replied, reaching for a toothpick. “Are you going to have some, too?” I asked Gladys.
“Good God, yes. Don’t hog them all. Slide that plate this way.”
Abigail poured herself a glass of white wine and stood at the island, where we all devoured the scallops while discussing the challenge of keeping emergency rooms open in rural hospitals. Then somehow we got talking about my life in Ontario and why I came east. Before a half hour had passed, I had told them both about my upbringing with a string of nannies and how I was a wild teenager before I straightened myself out.
Marissa stood up from the sandbox and came inside to join us.
Abigail went to meet her at the sliding glass door, scooped her into her arms, and kissed her on the cheek. “Would you like a drink of juice?” she asked. “And look who’s here to see you. Dr. Hamilton.”
Marissa’s face lit up. She reached that
sweet pudgy hand out to me and squirmed in her mother’s arms. “Docca!”
Abigail set Marissa down so she could run to me. I rose from my chair, and before I knew it, I was lifting her up over my head, then squeezing her as if she were my own.
“My first name’s Ryan,” I said. “Can you say that?”
“Wyan,” she replied with a grin.
I shared a look with Abigail, whose eyes were warm with pride and love, and I knew in that instant that she was nothing like the mother who had raised me.
Marissa was one lucky girl.
Chapter Thirty-nine
I MARRIED ABIGAIL eleven months later. The ceremony was held in a small chapel in Chester. We invited her colleagues from work – the high school principal, administrative staff, and most of the teachers – and I invited my receptionist and the two other doctors in town, along with their wives.
My mother surprised me by coming all the way from Ontario, and she was charming and friendly toward Abigail and Gladys. I wasn’t worried that she would make a poor impression. She was a successful businesswoman, after all, and she knew how to schmooze.
We held the reception at Abigail’s home – which was now my home as well – in the backyard, overlooking the water. Abigail had never lived there with Gordon, so I wasn’t encroaching on another man’s territory. They had rented a place in town during their marriage, and she and Gladys bought the current house a year after he passed. I took over what was left of the mortgage, and Gladys continued to live with us in her own apartment downstairs.
I never felt as if Gladys resented me for stepping into her son’s shoes, especially in the eyes of her only granddaughter, who had no memory of her real father. To the contrary, Gladys was grateful for my presence in Marissa’s life, and she treated me like her own son.
The Color of Heaven Series [02] The Color of Destiny Page 8
