One Hundred Promises

by Kelly Collins

  One Hundred Promises

  An Aspen Cove Romance

  Kelly Collins

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Thank you for reading.

  Sneak Peek of One Hundred Excuses

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  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Dr. Lydia Nichols stood on the sidewalk in front of the Aspen Cove Pharmacy. She prayed for lightning to strike from a cloudless sky, an avalanche to trigger from a snowless peak, a myocardial infarction to seize her healthy heart and end her miserable life.

  Nothing arrived but a bee that sent her dashing down the street as fast as her clogs could take her. It was the only thing likely to grant her death wish. Making sense of her life was like trying to eat steak with a straw. How had it gone from gold to lead in such a short time?

  Out of breath and back in front of the pharmacy, where the window sign flashed off and on with the red neon words The Doctor Is In, she stared at her reflection. The smiley face pin on her navy blue scrubs reminded her she had once been happy.

  She pulled her shoulders back and prepared to leave purgatory and enter the fiery pits of hell.

  Her mother had always said there were three certainties in life.

  Death.

  Taxes.

  Change.

  She’d dealt with her share of death, had paid enough taxes to pave the great state of Colorado, and was now dealing with change. A change destined to kill her hopes and dreams.

  Lydia didn’t see life’s certainties in the same light as her mother had. There were three things and only three things she required to be happy. The first was a real job. The second was a man who gave more than he took. The third was an endless supply of coffee. A girl could really live if she had what she needed.

  At thirty-two, she never expected to be in this position. Four years of college, four years of medical school, and a three-year residency had prepared her to be more than a country doctor—a fill-in at that. But a relationship gone bad with the head of emergency medicine at Denver General created change—change that came in the way of no job, no boyfriend, and no prospects for either. Maybe her mother had been right.

  She was about to turn around and climb back into her car when the door opened and her sister rushed out of the pharmacy.

  “You’re here.” Sage threw her arms around Lydia’s neck and squeezed hard.

  “I’m here,” she said with the enthusiasm of someone getting a root canal.

  “Why you wanted to show up midday and get straight to work, I have no idea. You should have taken a day or two to acclimate.”

  Her little sister had taken to Aspen Cove like a fish to water. Sage’s life had come crashing down a year ago, but like the sun, she rose again. Lydia’s lunar eclipse hadn’t moved far enough to let even the tiniest fragments of light peek through her darkness.

  “You know I’m not staying.”

  “But you’re here for now, and that makes me happy. Doc Parker will be glad too.”

  She followed her sister into the small pharmacy. Calling it such was generous since it had nothing but over-the-counter meds or what the resident doctor finagled out of pharmaceutical representatives. Actual prescriptions were filled in Copper Creek.

  “How’s he doing?” A recent fire had compromised poor Doc’s health. Although Lydia didn’t believe in fate, she couldn’t help but wonder if something larger was at work in the universe. Doc Parker’s need for a temporary replacement had come at the time Lydia needed a job.

  “He’s still on oxygen, but his surly disposition is back so he’s on the mend.”

  They weaved through the cold and flu aisle toward a door that led to the one and only examination room in the small clinic.

  Folding chairs lined the wall. Three out of eight of them contained waiting patients. Having visited her sister the month prior, she recognized the first in line as Louise Williams, who was pregnant with her eighth child.

  Lydia nodded as she passed and entered the exam room. The antiseptic smell was comforting, or at least it was familiar.

  “It’s a busier day than usual. Word got out you were coming to town, the books filled up for both clinic days. People are happy because they don’t have to drive the hour to Copper Creek.”

  Lydia peeked out the door. “This is busy?” Accustomed to a big city emergency room where no less than a dozen patients waited, a handful of patients was nothing. In Denver, people were seen by the severity of their needs as opposed to a blocked set of minutes. Payment came in dollars, not firewood and casseroles.

  “It’s busy for Aspen Cove. The only busier day I remember was when the Williamses were here for vaccinations.”

  Lydia checked her pocket for a pen. She unrolled her stethoscope and hung it around her neck, then pasted on a smile as fake as her yellow pin.

  “Shall we begin?” She looked around the small room and wished she could reach the two hundred miles to Denver and choke Dr. Adam McKay. This situation was his fault.

  She glanced over Louise’s chart while Sage stepped out to get their first patient. Eight babies in nine years must be a record.

  “Dr. Nichols.” Louise rushed inside. “I’m so glad you could come to Aspen Cove. We could use some new blood here and a female to boot. We hit the lottery.” She stepped on the footstool and situated herself on the exam table like a pro. Then again, she was a pro.

  “I’m not staying. This is temporary.” She hoped she didn’t have to remind each patient she was a fill-in while Doc Parker recovered.

  “That’s what everyone says and then they stay.” Louise looked at Sage. “Sage once said it was a dream of hers for you to work together. Looks like dreams come true.”

  While Lydia examined Louise, her internal mantra repeated this isn’t my dream, this isn’t my dream, this isn’t my dream.

  Fifteen minutes later, her second patient walked in. Not walked as much as shuffled. Lydia glanced at his chart. “Mr. Bradley, I’m Dr. Nichols. What brings you in today?”

  “Tilden brought me in. Good lad. Good driver. Single. You single?” The old man took five minutes to go from the door to the chair. He stared at the examination table and shook his head. “Not climbing up there, that’s like climbing a mountain.” He plopped into the plastic chair in the corner. The metal legs creaked under the weight of his three-hundred-pound body. “I’ll stick to the lowlands. What about Tilden?”

  “While I appreciate the attempted hookup, I’m not looking for a man.” Lydia tilted her head and gave Sage a what-the-hell look. She wasn’t in the market for a relationship—at least for the duration of her stay in Aspen Cove. She was happily single. Not happily, but single. After Adam, she needed a break from men.

  It would take one heck of an amazing man to earn her trust. Men were like Bluetooth. They connected to you when you were nearby, but searched for other devices when you were away.

  Sage moved forward to take the old man’s vitals. “Ray here is our resident flirt. He’s sweet on th
e ladies and has been known to empty a flower garden if he likes you.”

  In soiled jeans and a flannel shirt, he was straight off a mountain man poster—a cross between a geriatric Brawny model and grizzly bear.

  “I’ll never hear the end of stealing Bea’s flowers.”

  “No flowers necessary, Mr. Bradley.” Lydia said. “What health problem brings you in today?” She reviewed his file. Mr. Bradley had the usual problems associated with obesity like high blood pressure and high cholesterol. His last checkup was six months ago, and it didn’t look like much had changed.

  “I fell asleep at seven o’clock last night.” He threaded his fingers through his ZZ Top beard.

  “Do you have any other complaints?”

  Sage checked his pulse and prepared to take his blood pressure with a wrist cuff.

  “Ain’t that enough? I missed my show.”

  “Ray is a huge fan of 60 Minutes,” Sage said as she wrote Ray’s vitals.

  A huff of air separated his beard to show thin chapped lips. “I feel cheated because I only got about three minutes before I dozed off.”

  Lydia looked through his record for a history of fatigue but found nothing. “Says here tomorrow is your birthday. You’ll be sixty-eight.”

  “Well hell, no wonder I was tired.” Ray rocked back and forth, then pushed to his feet and shuffled to the door. “Thanks, Doc.” He moved out and down the hallway to disappear into the pharmacy.

  Lydia shook her head. “That didn’t happen, did it?”

  Sage laughed. “You’ll get used to it. Ray needed attention. Few women his age live here in Aspen Cove. He had to check out the new doctor in town.”

  “Should I fear him?”

  “Only if you wake up to find hundreds of flowers on your doorstep. It won’t be Ray you have to worry about but the owner of the garden he plundered.”

  Sage wiped down the counters with disinfectant even though they hadn’t been touched. She was a qualified nurse, but Lydia couldn’t understand how working at a tiny clinic fulfilled her dreams. Then again, Sage had a sexy fiancé to ease the rough edges of small-town life.

  Lydia wanted more. She wanted a prominent job in a large hospital, a hefty paycheck to ease the burden of student loans, and a man she could trust. Finding a unicorn would be easier than reaching her goals.

  She marked Ray’s file with a note and placed it in the out-box on the counter. “Who’s next?” She went to the sink to wash her hands and get fresh gloves.

  “That would be Bailey. She’s got something stuck up her nose.”

  Weeks ago, Lydia had triaged car accident victims and removed bullets from gangbangers. Today she was reminding people of their birthdays, examining a woman who had delivered more babies than she had, and her next patient was a kid who most likely shoved a bean up her nose.

  She opened several drawers before she found a pair of sterilized forceps.

  Bailey Brown bounced into the office with her pigtails swinging from side to side and hopped up onto the exam table. Her mother stood next to her like a sentry.

  Lydia leaned over so she was eye-to-eye with the little freckle-faced girl who had a heartwarming smile.

  She saw lots of children in the emergency room. This wouldn’t be her first foreign object removal from an unusual orifice. It never ceased to amaze her what people stuck into their bodies.

  “Hi, Bailey. I’m Dr. Nichols. Can you tell me what you put up your nose?” According to Bailey’s chart, she was four years old and a regular at the clinic.

  She looked behind to her mother. “No.”

  “No, you can’t, or, no, you won’t?” Lydia asked.

  She glanced back to her mother and reaffirmed her position. “No.”

  Sage passed Lydia the otoscope.

  “Okay then.” She showed the child the instrument. “I’m going to use this flashlight to take a peek. Can you look up for me?”

  There was a moment when Lydia thought Bailey would refuse. Arms crossed and a frown as large as a rainbow on her face, she didn’t move at first. Seeing she was outnumbered three adults to one, the little girl tilted her head and released a sigh of resignation.

  Lydia peeked inside the tiny upturned nose. “What’s your favorite, Skittles or M&M’s?”

  “Skittles,” she answered with exuberance. “I like to save the yellow ones for last.”

  As her last word finished, Lydia tweezed out a sticky yellow Skittle. She put it into her gloved hand and held it out for everyone to see.

  “Bailey,” her mom scolded, “I told you you’d had enough and to put them away for another time.”

  Lydia turned to Mrs. Brown. “She did.” She stared back to Bailey. “These are better in your mouth than in your nose.”

  Bailey smiled, plucked the yellow Skittle from Lydia’s hand then popped it inside her mouth. All jaws dropped open except for Bailey who happily chewed her treat.

  When she swallowed, she opened her mouth like a hungry bird.

  Sage patted her head. “No Life Savers today, sweetie. That’s Dr. Parker’s thing. I’m sure Dr. Nichols will come up with something all her own for your next visit.”

  The disappointment on Bailey’s face was unmistakable. She’d just had her nose plucked, and all she got was what she’d stored inside. Lydia took the child’s hand and drew a smiley face on the back. Bailey grinned.

  Mrs. Brown sucked in a breath. “We don’t write on our hands, Dr. Nichols, it’s a bad habit to start.”

  Lydia wanted to throw back something about eating nose Skittles being worse, but she refrained. “My apologies,” she responded. When Memorial Hospital called and said they wanted her on staff, sticky yellow candy would be the furthest thing from her mind.

  Going through three rounds of interviews had given her hope that an employment offer was forthcoming. Hell, she might be out of here before the ink faded from Bailey Brown’s hand.

  Sage showed them out while Lydia took a visual inventory of the clinic. It was well stocked with simple things for common occurrences like colds, cuts, and bruises. Standard equipment like oxygen tanks, IV supplies, and a sterilizer were present.

  Nowhere did she see anything modern like an X-ray machine, electronic monitors, or an ultrasound.

  Sage returned, pulled the paper off the table, and prepped it for the next patient.

  “How can you work here?” Lydia turned in a circle and took in the lack of everything.

  “What do you mean? It’s great. When was the last time you got to know the people you treated? At Denver General, people are a number on a chart.”

  “This is like working out of a field tent. I didn’t sign up for Doctors Without Borders.”

  Lydia found herself in a classic Sage Nichols hug. One she had to bear until it was over because Sage had a Super Glue grip.

  “It’s different. Not bad. We get cool cases like when Zachariah Tucker’s moonshine still blew up.”

  Lydia let out a groan. “I never imagined my life being like this. I’m not moonshine. I’m a martini girl. I was headed for great things.”

  Sage stepped back. “You’re still headed for great things, and Cannon can make a killer lemon drop martini.” She rolled out fresh paper to cover the table. “Remember when Mom said there were three things you couldn’t escape?”

  “Death, taxes, and change. I remember.”

  “This is change, and change isn’t always bad. A year ago you told me to come here and see what Aspen Cove offered. In fact, you likened me to Matthew McConaughey in Failure to Launch. You were right. I launched here in this small town, and I found my bliss. Maybe you should give it a chance.”

  In the distance, the bell above the door rang and Sage went to investigate.

  She was back in seconds leading a man inside the examination room. He cradled his bloody right hand to his chest. His blood-soaked gray T-shirt stuck to his skin, outlining muscles forged from steel. More patients like this and Lydia would have to reconsider her man ban.

 
Chapter Two

  Wes Covington would rather be anywhere than a doctor’s office. Looking at the gaping wound on his palm made his stomach turn and head spin. He pressed his bloody hand to his chest to stanch the endless flow. The deep cut meant stitches were likely. Stitches meant needles. A trickle of fear wormed its way down his spine. Wes didn’t do needles.

  “Geez, Wes, what the hell happened?” Sage moved like lightning around the room, gathering supplies while a sexy blonde in blue scrubs approached. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m Dr. Nichols. I’m going to wash my hands and look at your injury. Can you tell me what happened?” Her voice was soft and sweet and soothing.

  “I cut myself.”

  As a distraction, he stared at the doctor’s backside while she scrubbed her hands no less than three times. It was a wonder she had any skin left when she snapped on a pair of gloves and approached him.

  With tenderness, she took his hand in hers. “I’ll need saline and sutures,” she told Sage.

  Sage prepped a tray with supplies that Wes didn’t dare look at for fear of dropping like a stone to the linoleum floor.

  “Can you glue it shut? Isn’t that possible for some injuries?” He risked a glance at the tray, where Sage had readied a needle and thread. His head spun while his heart raced. The whoosh of blood pulsed through his ears, and spots of white danced before his eyes. A long deep breath pushed the dizziness away. With his uninjured hand, he gripped the table until his knuckles turned white.

  Dr. Nichols’s brow furrowed as she cleaned the cut. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  While she considered the injury, Wes assessed her. Long blond hair pulled into a ponytail. Blue-gray eyes the color of wet cement. Skin as smooth as his new granite kitchen counter. She was beautiful. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.