by Vivi Holt
So where was that pesky contract? It needed her signature to make it official, and from what she understood she was supposed to be starting in the new position in seven days, next Monday. Yet here she was, waiting. Everyone else from her program had joined hospitals all over the country.
Her father kept asking her if she’d signed on the dotted line yet. She recognized the look in his eyes: worry and shame. Shame that his daughter hadn’t been scooped up by the best hospital in the country, like he had when he’d completed his surgical residency. She’d disappointed him again. But then, she was used to that – she’d done it her whole life.
She’d already turned down offers from Emory in Atlanta, Northwestern in Chicago and UCLA/Reagan in California. Maybe she shouldn’t have dismissed them so quickly, but she loved working at the Brigham. And she loved general surgery – the variety, the challenge, the interactions with the patients.
But of course her father the world-renowned neurosurgeon wasn’t impressed. Dr. Ang Zhu expected more from his only daughter. “General?” he’d asked, as if he hadn’t quite heard her. “You’re choosing general surgery? Why not just become a chiropractor?” He’d sniffed and stalked out of the room. And she’d felt small and hollow inside.
Never mind – she’d show him. General surgery was a respectable field. And to be a good general surgeon was something anyone would be proud of. At least, that’s what she tried to tell herself. But it wasn’t quite true. It was something anyone would be proud of … except her father.
She sighed and swung her feet back down against the hard boards. She should relax – she was on vacation. Who knew when she’d next get the opportunity? Perhaps she should take a walk, or a nap … no, it was probably too late for a nap. Maybe she should drive into town and find a restaurant, since it was almost dinnertime. She could buy a tub of ice cream as well, really spoil herself.
A buzz in her back pocket made her jump. She pulled out the phone and checked the screen. It was a text from Hazel: “Em, try to enjoy yourself at the ranch. RELAX, okay?”
She chuckled. Hazel knew her so well. Too well.
She replied and was about to tuck the phone back into her pocket when a thought occurred to her. Why not call the hospital and ask about the contract? The HR manager had said she’d send it through, yet it hadn’t come. There could be a mix-up somewhere along the line, and if she didn’t bring it to their attention they might never realize it.
She frowned and chewed her bottom lip, then quickly dialed the hospital number. “Yes, can I speak to Milton Andrews please?” Her boss would likely be hunched over a pile of paperwork this time of day. His desk seemed to breed the stuff throughout the workday, and he never got home before nine o’clock. She had no desire to be a chief of surgery – she wanted to do surgery, not administrative work.
“Yes, this is Dr. Andrews.”
“Dr. Andrews – Emily Zhu. How are you, sir?” She did her best to smile, even as her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Emily, how nice to hear from you. Are you back in town?”
She laughed. “No, not yet – still down south, I’m afraid.”
“And how was the wedding?”
“Lovely, thank you.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
She could hear the rustle of papers – she was losing his interest. “Actually, sir, I was calling to ask you about my contract. I haven’t received it from HR yet and I’m supposed to start in about a week. Just wondering if I should call HR myself …?”
Andrews cleared his throat. “Hmmm … ah, no. No need to do that. I thought they’d called you.”
“No.” Her hand trembled, and she switched the phone to her other ear.
“Yes, well, I’m afraid that position has been filled. I’m sorry about that, Emily. Hopefully you can take one of the many other wonderful offers I’m sure you’ve received. You’re a solid surgeon and we’ll miss having you on the team.”
She took a deep breath, the air burning inside her lungs. “Filled … what do you mean? By whom?” Her voice sounded lost in the wide-open space of the ranch.
“Ah, well, actually, it was Ben Hudson.” Andrews’ voice was strained and he cleared his throat again. “You know, the head of cardio, Sam Hudson? His son.”
“Dr. Hudson’s son? Wow. Okay. I didn’t even know he’d applied.” Her head felt light and she swallowed hard.
“Yes, well, he fit all the criteria. So … anyway, we wish you all the best. Don’t hesitate to call if you need a referral.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. She wanted to scream. But she knew it wouldn’t help. Instead she wrapped up the call as quickly as she could and slumped on the porch swing, her body flaring with angry adrenaline.
How could this have happened? She hadn’t even given much thought to her interview, since it had been with people she considered friends and colleagues. Had she not prepared adequately? Had she taken it too much for granted? But everyone, including Dr. Andrews, had assured her the job was hers. Only clearly it wasn’t.
Emily slapped her forehead and her eyes widened. Now what would she do? She’d been afraid something like this might happen, especially when she’d turned down the final offer from UCLA/Reagan. She’d been promised. She’d never suspected those promises would be broken so easily.
She stood slowly and stumbled over to the porch railing, which she gripped white-knuckled to steady herself. Now what?
She hurried down the front steps. A walk – that’s what she needed. After all, she was supposed to be relaxing. It’s what vacations were all about. She exercised all the time at the hospital gym, but that was different – that was feet pounding a treadmill while she stared at a whitewashed wall or the news on her phone screen or the latest issue of the Journal of the AMA. It wasn’t a wander down a country lane, savoring the landscape and beauty all around her.
With quick steps, she set off down the long, winding driveway, only to trip on a rock and almost land on her hands and knees. She saved herself just in time, but a sob escaped and she clamped a hand over her mouth.
Now what? That question wasn’t going away.
She gulped the sob back down and frowned. She was being ridiculous. This wasn’t a catastrophe. Flooding in India, or a mother losing her child to a preventable disease, or a tree branch landing on a father on his way home from work during a storm – those were things worth crying over. This wasn’t. She’d work it out. It’d be fine. If all else failed, she could ask Father to intervene, call in a favor. No doubt that’s what Ben Hudson had done, destroying her hopes in the process.
No. She didn’t want to be like Ben Hudson and ruin someone else’s dreams. And who knew, maybe he really was the best person for the job.
Emily took a long, deep breath, filling her lungs to bursting. She closed her eyes tight, then slowly exhaled. She’d work it out. It’d be fine.
When she opened her eyes, a horse stood in front of her on the other side of a white paling fence. It looked at her with wide brown eyes, flicked its ears and stepped closer. Then whinnied, its muzzle quivering.
She cocked her head, examining the animal. It was a stunning creature, dark brown all over with a black mane and tail. It was quite tall and its coat shone in the golden afternoon light. “Hello there.” She stepped forward and stretched a hand through the fence toward it, her pulse racing. The animal nudged her hand with its nose, then looked immediately bored and turned away. No doubt it was hoping for a treat, but she didn’t have anything edible on her except a pack of breath mints, and she didn’t think a horse would appreciate those.
“I’ll bet no one ever stole your job out from under you,” she whispered, leaning against the fence and stepping up onto the bottom paling to drape her arms over the top. She watched him graze beside her, admiring the muscular curve of his neck and the way his lips grabbed at the grass and pulled.
She stepped down and continued along the driveway, heading away from the ranch. She could see Eamon and Parker in the distanc
e. Eamon’s pickup was parked on the grass, and he appeared to be hammering something while Parker fussed with the fence. A black dog followed them back and forth wherever they went.
Her heart skipped a beat as she watched Eamon. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and she could see the outline of sweat around the neck of the checked shirt. His jeans fit a little too tight and his cowboy hat and boots had seen better days. His sun-bronzed skin almost glowed under the changing light of the setting sun. She felt her cheeks warm and her lips tingle at the memory of their kiss.
She ducked her head and continued on her way. A group of foals frolicked alongside the driveway in yet another field, dashing between their mothers. A chestnut foal nipped at a bay one, while a black one kicked up its heels with a snort. She laughed out loud and stopped a moment to watch them. They were so innocent, so full of life and energy. She missed feeling that way. She’d felt it briefly as a child, until the pressures of school – and her parents’ expectations – landed on her small, thin shoulders.
Then she’d bowed to the altar of achievement and never looked back. She’d done everything right, everything she’d been told to. She’d studied hard, gotten good grades, won a place at the University of Georgia, then Harvard Medical, then the coveted internship at the Brigham. And now … now what?
Yes, she’d likely be able to apply again during the next round, or maybe even get something sooner. But the bloom had worn off the rose. She was exhausted. And when did it end? When did she get to stop running on the treadmill and look back on what she’d achieved with a sense of satisfaction?
She sighed, then turned to walk back toward the house. She knew what she should do next – send out resumes and hope for the best. Maybe someone would still have an opening. She just hoped it wasn’t too late. In the meantime, she’d have to tell her parents what had happened.
She dreaded hearing what they’d say. Father would be blunt, telling her exactly where she’d gone wrong, and how it would impact her career and life forever. Mother would passive-aggressively comment on her friends’ or cousins’ successes while carrying an injured look on her round face that insinuated a great tragedy had befallen the family. She grimaced and wrapped her arms around herself. Well, she wouldn’t put up with it this time. She’d done nothing wrong – the system had failed, not her.
Perhaps she wouldn’t even call them … at least not immediately. She sighed as a weight lifted. Yes, she’d enjoy her vacation, and worry about the future and what her parents might venture to say on the subject later.
Wrinkling her nose, she started to jog. The ground was uneven, and her knees bumped against each other. She chuckled at how uncoordinated she no doubt looked from the outside, but what did it matter? There was no one there to see her. And anyway, it was high time she gave up caring so much about other people’s opinions.
With a whoop, she accelerated her pace until she was sprinting along the driveway. A group of chickens flapped their wings and ran from her path with loud squawks, startled by her sudden burst of speed. She laughed and turned to watch their bobbing heads and disgruntled cries, just as her shoe hit a stone in the path. Her right knee bent awkwardly and her ankle twisted. She fell in a heap on the driveway, clutching her ankle with both hands.
Pain shot up her leg, and she gasped. She hadn’t heard a snap and didn’t think from the angle of her fall that she was likely to have broken anything. She bit her lip and palpated the ankle and foot, searching for anything out of place. She groaned as she discovered a tender spot just beneath the ankle bone. Likely she’d just strained a tendon. She tried to stand, but cried out with the pain as it flared up the moment she put weight on her right foot.
The pounding of footsteps on the driveway made her look up in surprise. She squinted into the glow of the sun and saw Eamon heading her way. He stopped and knelt beside her. “You okay?” he asked, his blue eyes compassionate.
She nodded. “Yeah, I think I just sprained my ankle. I’ll be fine.”
The dog nudged her with its nose, then stepped back to study her, panting hard. Eamon chuckled. “Sorry, that’s Harley. He’s Hazel’s dog, but since she’s away he’s taken to following me around. He’s harmless.” He rested a hand on her arm. “Let me help you.”
Her skin tingled beneath his work-worn palm. Why did he have to be so hot? She’d made up her mind to steer clear of him, but here he was, making her quiver with just one touch. She’d never met anyone like him before. All the doctors, nurses and physiotherapists she’d dated in the past were good men – intelligent, committed to their work. Good matches. But they’d never made her feel like her heart might burst from her chest if they came any closer, like Eamon did. “Um … no need. I’m sure I can limp back to the house.”
He grinned, the lines at the corners of his mouth deepening and his eyes sparkling. He always seemed to be laughing at her, in a teasing kind of way. “Okay. Well, I’m here if you need me.” Even his voice made her pulse race.
Her eyes closed, she tried to stand again … and the pain landed her on her rear, grimacing. “Yeah, I think I do need you, actually,” she replied, gritting her teeth at more than just the pain.
Eamon quirked an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve hurt it pretty bad. Here, lean on me.”
With a long, slow breath she looped an arm around Eamon’s neck. When she stood, he stood with her, bearing the brunt of her weight on his shoulders. She hobbled forward on her left foot, the right one lifted just off the ground.
“You always like to be in control, huh?”
His question caught her off-guard. “What?”
“You didn’t want me to help you. You act like touching me is the same as touching a leper. You don’t like needing anyone, is that it? Or do you just dislike me specifically?” His eyes were narrowed, the earlier light-hearted banter gone.
“Well, you just have me all figured out, don’t you?” she snapped, hobbling forward with more resolution than before.
He frowned. “Sorry. I guess it’s a sensitive subject.”
They stopped at the foot of the stairs leading up to the porch. She loosened her grip on him and took hold of the railing with both hands, her cheeks burning. “It’s not a sensitive subject – I just don’t like when arrogant cowboys think so highly of themselves that they believe their own press! Just because you’re sexy and tanned and everyone loves you, you think you know everything. It ticks me off, that’s all …”
Eamon’s grin widened with each word from her mouth. She frowned, her eyes widening in anger, then turned and hopped up the stairs, pulling herself forward using the handrail. His laughter behind her spurred her on, and she muttered under her breath the entire way down the hall until she slammed the bedroom door shut behind her and collapsed onto the bed with a sigh.
Okay, perhaps she’d overreacted just a little bit. She was already so upset by the news about her job at the Brigham that she’d found herself in a rage before she even realized it was coming. She rubbed her eyes and groaned. What would he think of her now? She’d just made an absolute fool of herself over one little comment, as though she couldn’t handle criticism. She sighed again and stared at the chipped paint on the ceiling above the bed.
There was a knock at the door. She sat up, her eyes wide, and smoothed her hair back into place. “Yes?”
The door opened. Eamon leaned against the jamb with that mischievous look on his face that never entirely went away. He flashed his dimples at her, then stepped into the room, holding his hands out in front of him. He held a bag of ice and an elastic bandage. “I come in peace,” he said with a chuckle. “I thought you might need a bit of first aid.”
She rolled her eyes and took a long, slow breath. “Thank you. After the way I yelled at you, I’m surprised you’re even speaking to me.”
“Is that an apology?”
She took the ice bag from him and pressed it to her ankle. “Yes, I suppose it is. Though, you did start it.” She grinned and blushed as she met his gaze, then quickly ret
urned her attention to ministering to her rapidly swelling ankle.
“You’re right. I’m sorry as well – I shouldn’t have said you were controlling. I mean, clearly you’re nothing of the kind.” He frowned and folded his arms.
Her eyes narrowed as she studied his face. Was that his attempt at sarcasm? It sounded like it, but his expression seemed sincere. “I’m not. I’m just … independent. Thanks for the ice and bandage.”
“You’re welcome.” He came closer and squatted beside the bed, laying a palm on her ankle and covering her hand as it held the ice bag. “You sure you’ll be all right?” His voice was soft, caressing and his eyes locked on hers.
“Yes, of course. I’m a doctor, after all …”
He laughed. “Yes, you are. But, even doctors need help now and then.” He stood and walked out, but as he was closing the door, he winked at her.
Emily’s heart leaped into her throat. It was about time she went back to Boston, or else she might find herself in serious danger of falling for a cowboy from Georgia. She couldn’t even imagine what her parents would have to say about that.
Chapter 4
Eamon parked the tractor, turned it off and jumped to the grass below. He was finally done slashing hay. Dalton had decided to rotate grazing fields, leaving some to rest. He grew crops in a few of them and left others alone, giving them a chance to refresh for when the herd rotated back into them. Parker was still gathering the hay into stacks and would ride the three wheeler back while Eamon finished up with the chores in the barn.
With Dalton gone, there was plenty to do around the place: chickens, hogs, cats and dogs to feed; foals to tend to; expectant mares to check on. And even though he was tired, Eamon felt exhilarated. A year earlier he’d been a bored accountant in a high-rise in Chattanooga. Now, he was helping run a large working ranch that he and his brothers hoped would soon be one of the most successful horse ranches in Georgia.
