by Lori Ryan
Still, he couldn’t walk away from being a surgeon.
Over the years, he’d had countless tests, but the team of neurologists had officially diagnosed him with essential tremor. It was a nerve disorder that had very few treatments, and worst of all, no cure. He was helplessly watching his dream of being one of the country’s top cardiothoracic surgeons slip away.
“Stress and fatigue do worsen your symptoms,” Bonnie said. “I agree, you need some time off.”
They all remained so calm and he wanted to yell at them. Two weeks ago, he’d been a fucking prodigy, despite his essential tremor.
“Look,” Aaron scanned the doctors’ faces, desperation in his voice, “it’s temporary, I know it. I’ll figure out the meds.”
The doctors remained unmoved.
“It’s temporary,” Aaron yelled, his fist coming down on the wooden desk.
“It’s possible we might get it back under control with some rest and adjustments to the medication,” Bonnie said, her voice calm, as if everything wasn’t slipping away from him.
Aaron understood their demeanor. It was drilled into the very best surgeons. Show no emotions. And Aaron just had, proving their point that he was in no shape to be working right now.
He was a liability. But he was also desperate. He’d thought he would have a lot more years before it came to this.
Aaron had no choice but to concede. For now.
“How much time off?” he asked.
“We’ll reevaluate you in six months,” Kevin said.
“Six months!” Aaron jumped to his feet. “That’s suicide for my fellowship and you all know it.”
Aaron glanced around the table. No one would meet his gaze.
This was it, it was over. The career he’d dreamed of his whole life was gone. With one fucking diagnosis.
Essential tremor. He hated those two words.
Aaron knew there were physicians with essential tremor out there, even surgeons, who lived and practiced medicine—hell he’d actually talked to some—but right now, it felt like he’d be lucky to get any job in medicine.
The room remained silent as he struggled to get his emotions in check. When he was ready, he let out a long exhale.
“I’ll collect my things then.” He pushed in his chair and walked around the table.
Bonnie reached out to catch his hand.
He glanced down at his mentor and friend.
Her blue eyes shimmered with tears. “I’m so sorry, Aaron. This is a huge loss for us.”
Shit. He felt the hot press of tears burning his own lids. Afraid he might break down, Aaron nodded once and strode from the conference room.
He made it down the hallway to the small office he shared with two other residents and sank into his chair. He turned to stare out the window, studying the bustling street below. Life was already passing him by.
“Aaron,” someone called from the doorway.
Aaron’s gaze remained on the street until a warm hand squeezed his shoulder. Slowly he glanced up.
Dr. Bellinger stared at him, his eyes darker now, offering a sad smile. Morris didn’t want to let him go, but he had no choice. The hospital had no choice.
“I’m sorry, son. If I could take this away I would.”
“It’s funny,” Aaron laughed and turned to stare out the window again.
Morris pulled a chair and sat next to him. “What is?”
“How many times have we said, I’m sorry, to a patient, to a family? You think the words are sincere, you hope they are. And yet.”
“Yet what?”
Aaron shook his head. And yet, they didn’t mean jack shit. When he’d first been diagnosed with essential tremor in medical school, the doctor he’d seen then had been quick to assure him this didn’t mean the end of his career. Aaron had taken that to heart. Now, he wondered if it was all platitudes, even back then.
“My words have always been sincere, Aaron,” Morris said from beside him. “Now more than ever.”
“I know,” Aaron said, staring out the window. He just wasn’t sure his words had always sounded sincere to his patients. Maybe his patients had felt as hollowed out and hopeless as he felt now, only he’d been too caught up in his job as their doctor to see the personal aspect, the emotional toll on a family.
Aaron had the mind of a scientist. Everything was black and white. He’d always approached the heart as an organ, a physical piece of the human body, not the wellspring of emotions.
“The time away could be good for you,” Morris said.
Aaron stood and turned to take in his office. There really was nothing here he couldn’t replace. Nothing personal, nothing meaningful. Had he really been that busy that he hadn’t even added a photo? A knickknack? Something?
“Maybe,” he finally answered.
“Sharon and I have the place in Indiana Dunes. Why don’t you go there for a few weeks,” Morris said. “Hell, a month if you want.”
Indiana Dunes was a stretch of the southern Lake Michigan coastline known for its wide sandy beaches, towering dunes, and abundant outdoor activities. It was a place you went for fun, not to figure out what the hell you were going to do with the rest of your life.
“Thanks,” Aaron said, “I’ll think about it.”
“Aren’t you from Colorado?” Morris asked.
He didn’t talk about his home much. He hadn’t shared a lot about his personal life with other people. Work was work. He had been on a mission to be the best. Now that goal was shattered and Aaron had no idea what to do.
“Yes,” Aaron finally answered.
“Maybe you could go back to Colorado, visit your family, your friends.”
Colorado, Aaron thought. Canyon Creek. His home.
The small town where he grew up was the reason he’d gone to medical school in the first place. When he’d headed out to college and then on to med school, he’d had dreams of bringing top notch medical treatment to his small town of Canyon Creek, Colorado.
Aaron had always planned to return one day. He thought he’d practice small town medicine there after gaining expertise in the city. But he’d lost that desire years ago when he discovered his passion for surgery, and his love for the heart. Since then, he’d been on a different quest. Until today.
Images of Doc Olson flickered through his mind.
He’d been twelve years old when he met Dr. Glen Olson, the town’s resident physician. His mother and father had rushed him to the small medical clinic in Canyon Creek with a broken arm. He and his five brothers had tried to scale the back face of Canyon Creek Mountain near their home with no equipment.
In an attempt to take Aaron’s mind off the pain, the town physician had peppered him with questions.
“What do you want to be when you grow up, Aaron?” Dr. Olson had asked.
“I want to help people,” he’d said.
“Medicine’s a great way to help people,” Dr. Olson had said. “I could use some help around here in the afternoons if you’re looking for work.”
“I’m only twelve,” Aaron had said.
“You’re never too young to work, son.”
From that moment on Aaron had done just that. Worked. Worked hard.
Worked hard to become the best.
“You know, there are other specialties besides surgery.” Dr. Bellinger’s deep voice broke through Aaron’s thoughts.
“Yes, please, I’d love to go back to square one, start my residency and a fellowship over.”
If he wanted to specialize in anything else, he’d have to start over with another three to seven year residency. At almost thirty-three, it didn’t seem worth it. But what the hell was he going to do if he couldn’t do surgery?
Aaron’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down at the screen, his gut twisting when he saw his mother’s number.
Just six short months ago, Aaron had lost his father to a heart attack. He saved lives all the time and yet hadn’t been there to save his father’s. Then just a few weeks a
fter his father’s death, his mother had collapsed. He hadn’t been there for his father, and that killed him, but when he’d gotten the call about his mother, he’d taken the first plane home to be by her side.
Thankfully, his mother’s collapse was just an anxiety attack, brought on by grief from his father’s death and the exhaustion of operating her new hotel.
Until his father’s death, none of his brothers had known how much debt his parents had taken on to build their new lodge. His parents had a successful bed and breakfast for years but had decided to expand, building a thirty-room lodge and restoring an old barn into an event venue, used mostly for weddings. Unfortunately, his parents had mortgaged most of the Sumner family land to do it, which included a quarter of Canyon Creek Mountain.
The Lodge at Canyon Creek was beautiful, as was the barn and outcropping of small cabins. All were filling up fast with bookings, but the terms of the loan were steep and without his father working full time alongside his mom, the workload was daunting. If they missed even one payment, one stipulation of the terms of the loan, his mother would lose everything.
That loss would include the portion of Canyon Creek Mountain that had been in their family for generations.
Shortly after his father’s death, his oldest brother, Ben, had developed a schedule to bring each of the six Sumner boys home at staggered times to help their mother. Until now, Aaron had remained vague about when he could return. Mostly because three of his brothers were now hopelessly in love and permanently settled in Canyon Creek, so they didn’t need him nearly as much as they initially had.
But maybe it was Aaron’s turn to go home.
He swiped the screen of his phone to answer the call. “Ma, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Aaron, thank goodness you answered. I was afraid you’d be in surgery and I didn’t want to interrupt you.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s Aunt Sally.”
Sally Sumner was his father’s younger sister. A she-devil on heels if Aaron had ever met one. But he and his brothers adored their aunt. Mostly because Aunt Sally made the best desserts and would bake them on demand for he and his brothers.
“What’s wrong with Aunt Sally?”
“She was helping Lily decorate the wedding barn and was up on a ladder, even though Warner and I explicitly told her not to be up there.” His mother’s voice held that same reprimanding tone he’d heard as a kid.
“I’m pretty sure if you told Aunt Sally not to do something, that just encouraged her, Ma.”
“You’re right, you’re right. Anyway, she fell off the ladder and hurt her back. I don’t know whether to put ice or heat on it?”
“You need to take Aunt Sally to the medical center to have her looked at. She needs an X-ray to make sure she didn’t break anything. Did she hit her head?”
“No, she fell on her butt. Plenty of padding.” His mother laughed and Aaron breathed a little easier. “Why wasn’t Ben or Emmett on the ladder? Or Max?”
“Oh, the boys are so busy back at the lodge. We had a terrible water main break and they’re trying to deal with that. And we had the wedding party showing up earlier. It’s been a mess.”
A wave of guilt washed over Aaron. He should be there to help them. All this stress couldn’t be good for his mother.
“Well, take her to see Doc Olson. But be careful transporting her.”
“Doc Olson isn’t in the office today. He’s making calls in the rural areas. You know not everyone can make it into the medical clinic in town.”
Aaron had forgotten how busy the life of a small-town physician could be. He’d traveled over the county with Doc Olson every summer that he worked for him, tending to the needs of people in the more remote parts of the area. Another stab of regret hit Aaron in the chest.
“Can she move without pain?” he asked.
“She’s a pain in my ass,” someone shouted in the background.
Obviously, his mother had him on speaker.
“Shush, Ben,” his mother yelled.
“What is she doing right now?”
“You mean, besides fussing because I called you?”
Aaron laughed, for the first time in…well, he really couldn’t remember.
“Ice the area for now, Ma,” he said. “Have her take an anti-inflammatory.”
“I told her not to call you, Aaron,” Aunt Sally yelled in the background. “Your mother has always been such a hypochondriac.”
“If Aunt Sally can still yell like that, I think she’ll be fine.” Aaron laughed. “Just have her rest and ice the area that hurts for no longer than twenty minutes at a time. No ice directly on the skin. If it gets worse, call Doc Olson.”
“Oh, thank you sweetheart,” his mother said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Aaron hadn’t done much, other than reassure her. “You’re welcome.”
“Hopefully we’ll see you soon?”
It was more of a question than a statement.
“Hopefully,” he said. He had no idea what his life would be like now that he couldn’t be a surgeon.
“All right, then. Love you, sweetie. Go save lives. But don’t work too hard.”
Save lives. Not likely any more.
“Love you too, Ma.” And he did.
Even though Aaron’s family often drove him crazy, he loved them. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how alone he was here in Chicago.
The line clicked off and Aaron stared down at the phone. His hand shook with a small tremor and his stomach knotted.
“You know, Aaron,” Dr. Bellinger said, stepping beside him, “you don’t have to be a surgeon to make a difference.”
Aaron glanced over at him. “Says the man who can still perform surgery.”
Morris shrugged and at least had the decency to look apologetic. He glanced down at the phone then back up. He’d seen the tremor.
Aaron was screwed.
“Sounds like you love your family,” he said.
Aaron nodded, not wanting to say more.
“Life has a way of leading us to the path we’re meant to be on, Aaron. Sometimes kicking and screaming.”
“Oh please, Morris, don’t give me this psycho-babble bullshit.”
His friend demonstrated the level of patience a saint probably required. “C.S. Lewis said, you’re never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.”
“That’s just it, Morris.”
“What?”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe you start where you began.”
“What does that mean?”
“Why did you become a doctor, Aaron?”
Images of traveling with Doc Olson as he cared for home-bound patients ran through his mind once again.
“Take some time, Aaron” Morris said. “Maybe go back home, be around people who love you, think about your future. You can still have one in medicine, if you want.”
What choice did he have?
None.
“Fine,” Aaron said, staring back at the man he’d mirrored his professional career on. “But don’t give up my fellowship. I’ll be back. This situation is temporary. I’ll find a new drug that works.”
Morris gave a less than reassuring nod. “Okay, son.” He stood and squeezed Aaron’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. We all are. This is devastating news to the entire hospital, I hope you know that.”
Aaron swallowed down the bitterness that threatened to rip through him.
“I really am sorry, Aaron,” he repeated.
“Me, too.” Aaron nodded, his gaze returning to the window. “Me too.”
Chapter Three
Kayleigh unlocked the back door to her small house and pushed it open. A scurry of feet clicked along the tile floor seconds before a furry body slammed into her legs.
“Hey, baby,” Kayleigh said, bending down and scooping up the small dog in her arms. “How’s my Annie girl doing today?” The
Lhasa Apso mix jumped into her lap, her tongue licking Kayleigh’s face, smattering her with kisses.
Kayleigh fell back onto the floor and giggled, scratching the dog under the chin. This was why people had pets. Even after a grueling day at work, Kayleigh’s four-legged friends could always make her laugh.
A mewl came from just in front of them. Kayleigh set Annie to the side. “Well hello, Sir Jaxie. Are you going to come tell Momma hello?”
Jax was a Bengal cat. His light fur and dark spots gave him the look of a tiny snow leopard. But his high back and regal prance gave him the air of nobility, hence, his nickname.
There was also his refusal to let most people near him, as if they were peasants.
Kayleigh laughed, reaching out to rub the cat’s ear.
He pressed into her hand and immediately began to purr.
Jax had been found on the side of the highway just outside town. His back leg had been broken and he’d been severely dehydrated. Kayleigh and her team had nursed Jax back to health and Kayleigh had planned to give the cat to a rescue center in Denver. But when she’d pulled the crate out to load Jaxie inside, the cat darted under Kayleigh’s bed and didn’t come out for two days. He’d been Kayleigh’s ever since.
“Hey Kayleigh,” Lina called from the living room.
“Hey, Girl.” Kayleigh stood and put Annie on the floor. She toed off her shoes. “Come on guys. Let’s go see Lina.”
Annie did two full circles, chasing her tail, then shot toward the living room like someone was hot on her heels. Jax glanced up at Kayleigh with mild amusement as if to say, “Can you believe her?”
“She’s a hot mess, Jaxie. But she’s our hot mess.” Kayleigh chuckled, lifting the cat and rubbing his head as she walked into the living room.
“How was work?” Lina asked, squatting down to rub Annie.
“It was good. Hectic.”
Lina Bianchi worked at Strange Brew, the local coffee shop in Canyon Creek. On occasion she would check in on Kayleigh’s pets when Kayleigh had to work late. Which had been a lot lately.
Kayleigh lived next door to the clinic and sometimes Annie came into the office with her, but Kayleigh was often called away during the workday. Her vet techs were stretched too thin to run over to her house for more than a few minutes. On days like these, when Kayleigh had been out for most of the day, Lina had been a lifesaver.
