Baby, Drive South

by Stephanie Bond

  “It’s no big deal,” Porter said to Nikki. “The men are accustomed to him patching them up for minor stuff. Sweetness needs you around to handle serious medical issues.” He gestured to his cast and gave her a cajoling smile. “Riley couldn’t have set my leg.”

  Nikki studied him, her expression unreadable. “I’ll get started on those forms,” she said finally. “Thanks for the tour—and the handkerchief.” She sneezed twice, then blew her nose. Then she walked over to the four-wheeler, removed the accordion folder from the storage compartment and set off toward the boardinghouse. He pondered the wisdom of sticking the two-year employment contract in the folder along with the RHC forms. Maybe he should’ve mentioned it.

  “I’ll give you a ride,” he called, but she waved him off.

  Porter watched her, the set of her shoulders, the angle of her chin. They were losing her. He needed to find the little lady doc some patients…fast.

  17

  The next morning, Nikki was stowing her toothbrush and smothering a yawn when a knock sounded on her bedroom door. She glanced at the dark circles under her eyes and sighed—she’d gotten next to no sleep last night, churning over the fact that her life was in limbo. Spending time with Porter Armstrong yesterday at what remained of his homestead had stirred a deep-seated longing for the kind of family life he’d described. She’d been so mesmerized that she’d almost let him kiss her, for real this time. Thank goodness fate had intervened in the form of a phone call before she’d done something that would’ve only mired her mind and body in another complication. She’d lain awake watching the moon fade into daylight before dragging herself out of bed this morning. And the nasty case of allergies that had hit her wasn’t helping. If not for the ice-cold shower she’d taken, her eyes would probably still be glued together.

  She washed her face and blew her nose, then opened the door to find Susan Sosa, one of the women who’d ridden down in the van with her, standing there. Susan was a prettily rounded woman with short blue-black curls, but she looked older than her thirty years. Nikki knew from the tidbits she’d learned on the drive down that Susan’s family life had mirrored her own until college. While Nikki had buried herself in her studies and pushed through eight years of school, Susan had taken another route, getting a factory job right out of high school, spending the last twelve years on her feet in front of an automaker’s assembly line before being laid off the previous year. She’d been so animated about the move to Sweetness, she’d chattered all the way down about meeting a nice man with Southern manners.

  It struck Nikki that the women were looking to her for solidarity to stay in Sweetness. And if she left, she’d be poking holes in the dreams of those who’d uprooted their lives to move here.

  “Hi, Susan. What’s up?”

  Susan bit her lip. “I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Salinger, but you have a patient waiting downstairs at your office.”

  Nikki raised an eyebrow. “I do? Who?”

  The woman dimpled. “It’s Kenny Stapleton, the really cute guy who came to get your medical bag yesterday.”

  She was inordinately pleased to hear that one of the men was finally seeking her out to be treated. “Is it an emergency?”

  “No, he said to take your time.”

  Nikki pursed her mouth, then grabbed her black bag, stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind her. It was probably hay fever or bug bites. If not for the extreme pollen and the Jurassic mosquitoes, she’d have nothing to tend to.

  “I brought you some coffee,” Susan said, extending a steamy mug.

  “Thank you,” Nikki said, taking the cup. She had a feeling the woman had something else on her mind.

  Susan tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Dr. Salinger, I wondered if you could use someone to, you know, help out with patients and stuff. Like a secretary.”

  “I don’t exactly have a stampede of patients.”

  “I know I’m not the most qualified person, but I’ll work really hard.”

  Nikki was moved by the woman’s sincerity. She realized that if one or two things had gone differently in her life, she could’ve easily been in Susan’s shoes. “I’d like that,” Nikki said, “but I’m afraid I don’t know how this is all going to work yet.” She thought of the two-year employment contract she’d found among the forms Porter had given her yesterday—subtle. “I haven’t signed an agreement with the Armstrongs, so I can’t even pay you.”

  “That’s okay,” Susan said in a rush. “I just want the chance to prove myself until a real job is available. Between you and me, I’m a little bored.”

  Nikki hesitated, not wanting the woman’s hopes to be dashed when she left Sweetness. On the other hand, Susan had a point—there wasn’t much to do until the town was better organized. “Okay by me, but we’ll have to take it day by day.”

  Susan smiled wide. “Great. Thank you. So what can I do?”

  Nikki found the key to the office on her ring and handed it to Susan. “The new patient forms are in a folder in a blue file box on a bookshelf. Get one for Kenny and have him fill out the top.”

  “Okay.” Susan jogged ahead, leaving Nikki smiling at her enthusiasm. She passed another woman in the hall, Regina Watts, the recruiter Porter had mentioned. “Regina, did the group return from Atlanta last night?”

  “No,” Regina said with a little laugh. “Rachel called and said they’d be back sometime today. She was hiring a delivery truck to bring everything here.”

  Nikki pressed her lips together, wondering if the Armstrong brothers had yet grasped what they’d agreed to when they’d sent Rachel on a shopping trip.

  “I know you’re working with the Armstrongs to recruit professionals to come to Sweetness. I wanted to mention that I asked my former boss to put out feelers for medical personnel.”

  “Good to know,” Regina said. “Thanks. I have my work cut out for me. Imagine trying to convince an attorney to come here.” The woman suddenly looked stricken. “I’m sorry, Dr. Salinger. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nikki cut in, nixing her allusion to Darren Rocha. “Let’s talk again soon.”

  The woman nodded and went on her way.

  Nikki proceeded downstairs, trying to shake off the comment. It was true that attorney Darren Rocha wouldn’t be caught dead within a hundred miles of a place like this.

  She frowned. Was that a good thing…or a bad thing?

  When she arrived at the temporary office, Susan had found the form and a clipboard and was hovering over Kenny, who seemed pleased by her attention.

  Nikki said good morning and told him to come in when he was ready.

  She went inside and downed some antidrowsy anti histamine, donned a lab coat, then hooked her stethoscope around her neck and disinfected her hands. She’d never wish an illness on anyone, but she hoped Mr. Stapleton’s case, if not challenging, was at least interesting.

  It wasn’t.

  Nikki tamped down disappointment a few minutes later as Kenny described his infected ingrown toenail and removed his shoe and sock. She squinted. “Is that…bacon?”

  He grinned. “Yeah. Doc Riley told me to tie a piece of raw bacon around my toe to draw out the infection. And it worked some—see where the bacon turned green?”

  She swallowed hard. “I see.” She snapped on gloves, then unwound the offending piece of bacon and disposed of it. Kenny’s big toe was greasy and red. She carefully cleaned the area, then inserted a small piece of cotton gauze under the edge of the nail to lift it from the inflamed skin and gave him a tube of antibiotic ointment.

  “Should I get another piece of bacon from the dining hall?” he asked, rolling on his sock.

  She rolled her eyes. “I think it’s safe to retire the bacon cure.”

  “Okay,” he said, but he looked doubtful. Why did she have the feeling he’d do it anyway, and then give “Doc” Riley the credit once the infection had run its course?

  She walked him out and said goodbye, startled to se
e that five other men occupied the chairs in the hall. Susan was fluttering around, tending to them. She’d set up a coffee station and a folding table for herself nearby. She handed Nikki a new patient form. “Joe Griffith is next.”

  Nikki smiled, reenergized to be busy and glad the men were warming to the idea of seeing a “female” doctor.

  Not that their ailments were all that serious, she noted as the morning wore on. A sore back muscle, halitosis, ear wax buildup, a cold sore and…

  “Dandruff?” Nikki asked, staring at the man sitting in front of her who had a military buzzcut. “You’re concerned about dandruff?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve noticed a few flakes when I comb my hair.”

  Nikki gave his scalp a cursory examination, then handed him a tube of lotion.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “Sunscreen. You don’t have dandruff—your scalp is peeling from a sunburn. You might try wearing a hat.”

  “I will. Thanks a bunch, doc.” And he continued to thank her as he backed out into the hall. “You’re the best doctor ever.”

  Nikki gave him a tight smile. She was starting to get the feeling that something was up, especially when she walked out and saw four more men sitting in her “waiting room,” all offering toothy smiles.

  “Business is booming!” Susan said, her cheeks flush with excitement.

  “So I see,” Nikki said, then held up her finger. “I’ll be right back.” She took off down the hall, following her last patient at a discreet distance. He exited the boardinghouse, then he looked all around and ducked into a copse of shade trees just off the path. Nikki followed, picking her way as quietly as possible and slowing when she heard voices.

  She parted the branches of a bush and saw Porter Armstrong a few yards away sitting on the ground, his back against a wide tree trunk, his crutches lying nearby, talking to Dandruff Man, who stood over him nodding. Then Porter removed a roll of cash from his shirt pocket, peeled off a couple of bills and handed them up to her “patient.” When the other man walked away, Porter looked pleased with himself, pulled a bill cap down over his eyes and slouched back against the tree.

  Nikki gritted her teeth and charged through the bushes toward him. He heard her coming, lifted his hat, his eyes wide. “Taking a walk, doc?”

  She skidded to a halt. “You! You’re paying your workers to come to me with piddly little complaints?”

  “Whoa,” he said, holding up his hand. “It’s not what you think. I only offered to give my men paid time off to see the doctor if they had any ailments for you to check out.”

  “Dandruff?” she shouted. “Bad breath?”

  “Hey, those are legitimate concerns,” Porter insisted, “especially now that women are here.” He reached for his crutches and struggled to push to his feet. “Can I get a hand here?”

  She begrudgingly reached down to help him up. Which was a mistake because when he got on her level, she couldn’t avoid contact with those intense blue eyes. Her stomach quivered and the air left her lungs, like yesterday when he’d almost kissed her. Worse, he looked like he was about to try again. She wet her lips, then remembered why she was here in the first place. She drew her head back. “Don’t even try to change the subject.”

  He pouted. “Come on, little lady doc—I wanted to help. I thought if I could convince the guys to come see you about small stuff, they wouldn’t be so uptight when it came to something more serious.”

  She jammed her hands on her hips. “That’s so patronizing! Don’t you dare do me any favors, Mr. Armstrong. The only reason those men should be coming to me is because of the medical degree that has my name on it.”

  “I know,” he said with a sigh. “But these men are macho, Southern boys. They have their pride. They’re going to have to ease into letting someone as pretty as you see them in pain.”

  The “someone as pretty as you” comment struck her like a slap. He was mocking her. All of his flattery, the near kiss yesterday—and today—was only to manipulate her.

  “No,” she said evenly, “they’re not going to have to ease into seeing me as their doctor because I won’t be here, remember? By the way, I found the contract you slipped into the folder yesterday. You could’ve mentioned it.” She sneezed violently, then blew her nose.

  “I wanted to give you time to look over it, hoped you’d changed your mind. Are you okay?”

  “Allergies,” she muttered, dabbing at her eyes. “And I haven’t changed my mind. In fact, I called my former boss yesterday and she’s looking for my replacement.”

  Porter seemed surprised. “Well, I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to help us out.”

  She crossed her arms. “By the way, how are the repairs on my van coming along? Did the new fuel pump arrive?”

  “Uh…Kendall is supposed to bring one back from Atlanta, if he has room.”

  She squinted. “I didn’t realize fuel pumps were so large.”

  The loud sound of a deep horn blasted into the air over and over, growing louder each time. Porter frowned, then moved in the direction of the noise, and Nikki followed. They emerged from the trees to see two thirty-foot-long delivery trucks pull up in front of the boarding house. Rachel waved from the passenger side of the first behemoth truck.

  “Good God almighty,” Porter muttered.

  Nikki turned a smile on him. “Looks like he had room.”

  18

  Porter tensed as Marcus paced their office behind his desk. Kendall sat next to Porter, looking straight ahead, apparently prepared to take whatever Marcus was going to dish out regarding the two enormous truckloads of stuff he’d escorted back from Atlanta. Porter somehow knew, even though he hadn’t been part of that outing, he was going to get lumped into the tongue lashing that was to come.

  Instead of calming down, Marcus seemed to become more irate, like a penned bull. His face grew redder, his hands fisted. Finally, he stopped and planted his hands on his desk. Steam was practically streaming out of his nose. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  Kendall threw up his hands. “Just say whatever high and mighty thing you have to say so we can get back to work.”

  Porter glanced at his brother, surprised. Kendall rarely provoked Marcus. Come to think of it, Kendall had been uncharacteristically irritable since the women had arrived, as if he were…disappointed.

  Porter pulled on his chin. He and Kendall had both underestimated the amount of work it would take simply to convince the women to stay in Sweetness.

  Marcus’s eyes bulged. “Get back to work? You mean unpacking knickknacks for the ladies, don’t you? Because from where I stand, there’s not much real work getting done around here!”

  “We’re making good headway on the clinic,” Porter added.

  But wished he hadn’t, because it only shifted Marcus’s focus onto him.

  “Fat lotta good that’s gonna do us with no doctor to run it!”

  “She’s still here, isn’t she?”

  “But has she signed the contract?”

  “Not yet,” Porter muttered.

  “Our application for an RHC won’t even be considered if we don’t have a physician on staff. We’ve put this clinic in motion, we can’t stop now.”

  He didn’t want to mention that Nikki had put out feelers to find a replacement— He wasn’t giving up on having the homestead land. “I just need some more time to convince the little lady doc, that’s all.”

  “So you’re going to continue to hold her hostage and lie about the van?” Kendall asked.

  “Absolutely. By the way, I told her you were supposed to bring a new fuel pump back from Atlanta, so if she asks you about it, play dumb.”

  Kendall frowned. “That’s your role. I heard you paid some of the men to make up reasons to go see her?”

  Marcus rolled his eyes.

  “They all had legitimate conditions,” Porter argued. “Small…things.”

  “And how’d that work out?” Kendall asked.
r />   Porter frowned. “Not as well as I’d hoped.”

  Marcus pointed to Kendall. “You talk to Dr. Salinger about staying.” Then he pointed to Porter. “You stay away from her.”

  Porter drew back. “What about our deal?”

  Marcus gave a wave. “Kendall and I were going to give you the homestead anyway, Porter.”

  He looked back and forth between his brothers. “You were?”

  Kendall nodded. “So why don’t you let me work on Dr. Salinger. She might respond to sanity.”

  Porter’s momentary pleasure about the land deed was strangely overshadowed by the knowledge that he no longer had an excuse to be with Nikki. “But I’m the only patient she has!”

  “Maybe we should break something else of yours to keep her busy,” Marcus suggested in a tone that indicated the subject was closed. Then he zeroed in on Kendall. “Back to the matter at hand. I specifically asked you to accompany the group to Atlanta to supervise the spending.” He picked up a stack of receipts and shook them. “What happened? Did you let those females flirt you out of a fortune? Porter can’t help but be an idiot when some woman bats her eyelashes, but I thought you were immune to all of that nonsense.”

  “Why?” Kendall shouted, jumping to his feet. “Because I’ve lived like a monk most of my adult life?”

  Porter blinked at Kendall’s outburst.

  Marcus retreated, apparently just as surprised. “No.”

  But Kendall was fired up. “For your information, I think the women made sound choices in technology and equipment that will move this town forward by leaps and bounds!”

  They were still staring at him.

  “Okay,” Marcus murmured, having had the wind knocked out of his sails.

  Kendall seemed to catch himself. “I have to go now,” he said in an odd voice. Then he hesitated as if he’d lost his train of thought, before striding out of the office trailer.

  Porter exchanged glances with Marcus.

  “What was that all about?” Marcus asked.