by Marta Perry
As they were nearing the outskirts of Hope Springs, he said, “I had a wonderful time today.”
“I’m glad.”
“Meeting your family has changed my perception of the Amish in many ways.”
“For the better or for the worse?”
“For the better. But I haven’t figured out one thing.”
“What?”
“Without TV or radio, how do they keep up on the baseball scores?”
Amber started giggling. “The Amish do love baseball. You’ll find games being played in all the districts during the summer. While interest in such worldly things is forbidden, you can find many of the young boys gathered around a radio in someone’s store when a professional game is on, with the occasional elder shopping near by. The local newspapers have a sports section for those not willing to risk the censure.”
“Ah.”
“Dr. White—”
“Please, call me Phillip.”
“Very well, Phillip.”
“I know what you’re going to ask. I’m afraid the answer is still no.”
Deflated, Amber didn’t know how to respond. She was out of arguments. Driving into the clinic parking lot, she stopped the car and turned toward him. “I’m still glad you enjoyed your visit with my family.”
“They have a special charm, don’t they? Not only your family but all the Amish. They coexist peacefully in a world that is anything but peaceful. They turn their backs on the basic modern inventions most Americans can’t live without, yet they thrive and are happy in their small world.”
“Everything they do, everything in their daily lives, is a direct reflection of how they interpret the Bible.”
“It’s very thought-provoking. Your grandmother’s explanation for why they don’t use electricity made a lot of sense.”
“I imagine she said if electricity comes to a house then all sorts of things come with it, things that pull a family apart. Instead of spending the evening together, they turn on the TV and tune out what is happening around them. Another person may go away to listen to the radio or use a computer. Still another chats on the phone instead of with the family.”
“Right, and before long it isn’t a family anymore. It has become a group of strangers living in the same house. I’ve seen the truth of that in my own life, but I still couldn’t live the way the Amish do.”
“Nor could I, but my respect for their culture is bone-deep.”
After a long pause, he said, “I see you inherited your wisdom and strength from your grandmother.”
Looking down, Amber shook her head. “I’m not sure I have wisdom, but I do have stubbornness.”
“I’ve noticed, but you are passionate, too, in your defense of these people. I think that’s a rare thing.”
His soft tone made her look up. When she did, he reached out and gently touched her cheek. “Thanks for a great evening.”
Blushing, she shrugged. “And I didn’t even have to cook.”
Don’t get sappy. Don’t read more into his touch. Don’t think about kissing him. He’s your boss.
Looking away, she noticed a light still on in the clinic. “Wilma must be working late.”
He withdrew his hand. “Does she do that often?”
“Once a month or so she stays late to catch up on filing and to get old charts ready to be shipped to the storage facility.”
“Maybe we should give her a hand after goofing off most of the day.”
“Maybe we should.” Anything to escape the close intimacy of sitting in the car with him. The scent of his sandalwood cologne stirred her, making her anxious to get away.
Quickly, she pushed open the car door and got out. As she headed for the clinic, he fell into step beside her. When they entered, they found Wilma sealing several cardboard boxes with packing tape. Her disapproval when she caught sight of them was all too easy to read.
Amber felt like a teenager who’d been caught coming home after curfew.
Phillip didn’t look troubled in the least. Glancing at the files stacked on her desk and the number of boxes, he said, “I didn’t know you had this much work to do. You shouldn’t have to work late.”
“I’ve been managing this office for thirty-four years. Your grandfather never complained about my working late.”
“I’m not complaining. I hate to see you doing this by yourself. You should have called us to come back.”
“Then you should keep your cell phone turned on.”
“What?” Reaching for the phone in his pocket, he lifted it up to the light. “It’s dead. Wilma, I’m so sorry. Did we have patients? You should have gotten me by calling Amber.”
“No patients, just phone calls.”
As if on cue, the telephone on the desk rang. She answered it, spoke briefly, then held it out toward Phillip. “It’s your grandfather. Again. And he’s not happy.”
Chapter Thirteen
Phillip picked up the phone. “Harold, is something wrong?”
“I’ll say there is! What on earth do you think you’re doing, running my practice into the ground?”
Phillip held the phone away from his ear until the shouting decreased in volume. It was then he caught Wilma’s self-satisfied smirk. When she realized he was staring at her, she began working industriously.
Speaking into the phone once more, Phillip said, “Harold, I’d rather have this conversation in my office. I’m going to put you on hold.”
Some muttering started. Phillip ignored it and pushed the button. Amber moved to stand beside him, a look of worry clouding her eyes. “Is he all right?”
“Once he’s finished reading me the riot act, I think he will be.”
“Do you think he’s heard about the Amish avoiding us?”
“That would be my guess. Go home, both of you. I’ll lock up.”
“But I have work to finish,” Wilma said.
He scowled in her direction. “It can wait.”
“Very well.” Rolling her eyes, she gathered her purse and headed for the front door.
His annoyance faded as he transferred his gaze to Amber. “You go home, too. I can handle this.”
“Are you sure?”
He wasn’t. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her help in calming Harold. He just wanted her near him.
For a moment, he wavered, but in the end realized this trouble was of his own making. His principles were under fire. He was the one who needed to face the music.
“Go on home, Amber. I’ll be fine.”
* * *
Amber left the building reluctantly. Looking over her shoulder, she said, “I hope Harold isn’t too upset.”
“Oh, he is.” Wilma confirmed Amber’s fears.
“You talked to him?”
“Yes. Someone had let him know how things were being handled here. I spoke the truth when he asked me about it.”
“You told him we were being boycotted? Why would you do that? You know he needs to rest and recuperate.”
Wilma dismissed Amber’s concern with a wave of her hand. “Harold already knew. I just wish Surfer Dude Doc had never found Harold. Things were fine the way they were. Don’t worry, Amber. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing patients again in no time.”
Wilma got into her car and drove off, leaving Amber staring after her. Torn between leaving and staying to hear what Phillip had to say, Amber decided it was best to go home. Phillip and Harold deserved their privacy. She drove back to her house with a million questions swirling through her brain.
When she reached home, the cat greeted her at the door. As usual, Fluffy was more interested in his bowl being filled than granting affection. Keeping his mistress company went by the wayside when there was kibble available. When his belly was full, he’d be all about purring and wanting attention.
Tossing her handbag on the dining room table, Amber checked her message machine. It showed a big fat zero. It seemed she wasn’t as popular as Dr. White.
In the kitchen, she put the kettle on
and grabbed a box of tea from the cupboard. She was pouring the hot water into her cup when her doorbell rang.
When she opened the door, she saw Phillip standing on her steps. In her heart, she had been hoping he would come.
Looking tired and frustrated, he said, “I didn’t know where else to go.”
She took a step back. “Come in. I just made some chamomile tea. Would you like some?”
“Sounds great, thank you.” He followed her into the kitchen and took a seat on one of the bistro chairs at her small round glass table near the bay window.
Fluffy came over to investigate the new visitor. Purring loudly, he wound in and around Phillip’s ankles. Phillip picked him up and scratched behind his ears, a maneuver Fluffy loved.
“If he bothers you I can put him up.” Amber fixed Phillip his tea and carried it to him.
“No, I like cats. Is this the well-named Fluffy?”
“It is. Of all the animals I’ve fostered, I like him the best.”
Handing Phillip his cup, she sat down opposite him. “What did Harold have to say?”
Phillip put Fluffy on the floor. “The gist was that if I can’t run his clinic any better than this, I need to go back where I belong.”
“That was harsh and not like Harold.”
Propping his elbows on the table, Phillip said, “I spoke to his primary doctor after Harold hung up on me. His doctor says he’s been improving rapidly when he isn’t worried about his patients here. His doctor and I are both afraid this may trigger a setback.”
“Oh, no. I was worried about that, too.”
“So you weren’t the person who called and updated him on our troubles.”
Scowling, she retorted, “No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
Somewhat mollified, Amber said, “It wasn’t Wilma, either.”
“Rats. She was at the top of my list.”
“It doesn’t matter who called him.”
“Maybe not, but I’d like to find out who it was.”
“If you leave, we’ll go under anyway.”
“It seems we can’t stay afloat with or without me. I came here to help my grandfather. I owed him that much. I’m even beginning to understand why he feels so protective of these people, why he loves the simplicity and peaceful lives they lead. But instead of helping him out, I’ve made things worse.”
She wanted to take Phillip’s hand, to reach out and hold him and offer him comfort, but she didn’t dare. She had no idea where such a move would lead. Her attraction to this man was simply too strong. The last thing she wanted was for him to find out how she felt.
After taking a sip of her tea, she asked, “What are your plans? Will you leave?”
“That may depend on you.”
Taken aback, she frowned. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated and suddenly she knew. Happiness surged through her veins. “You’re going to sign a collaborative practice agreement with me.”
“Yes, but before you start doing the happy dance, I’ve got a few restrictions.”
Her scowl came back. “Such as?”
“I’ll allow home births as long as I’m in attendance. If I’m going to be ultimately responsible for these women and their babies, I want to be there.”
This was the last thing she expected. “Let me get this straight; I can do home deliveries, but you have to be there?”
“Yes.”
“What about my prenatal and postnatal visits, the birthing classes I hold here and my seeing women at the clinic?”
“All those things can continue. After every delivery, I want to see both mother and baby at the clinic within two days.”
“Harold liked to see them at two weeks unless there were problems. Remember, these women have to come by horse and buggy, not in a comfortable car.”
“All right, I’ll compromise and say one week.”
Rising, she carried her cup to the sink and poured out her tea. “What makes you think you’re more capable of delivering a baby than I am?”
“I’m an MD.”
Spinning around, she glared at him. “How many babies have you delivered?”
“Fifty-four.”
“Fifty-four compared to my five hundred and two. You’re asking me to give up my autonomy, to project the image that I can’t do my job. Why would I want you tagging along?”
“So that you can do your job. Being a midwife is what you love, isn’t it? I’m offering you the opportunity to get back to it.”
Crossing her arms, she leaned back against the sink. “Will you let me do my job? Or will you interfere if you see something you don’t like?”
“You can do your thing as long as no lives are endangered. If we can’t agree on this, it won’t matter anyway.”
He was right. Amber considered her options. If she didn’t work with Phillip, she would remain out of business until Harold returned. If he returned.
She had to admit she’d known for some time that Harold needed a partner. He was getting on in years. Finding another doctor who allowed home deliveries would take time. Time she would not have if the clinic went under.
Staring at the tips of her shoes, she said, “Dr. White, I accept your proposal under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
She looked up. “That you begin searching for someone to take over the practice in the event Harold can’t return.”
“I’ve been doing that.”
“I don’t mean temporary help.”
“You mean someone with the same Amish-friendly philosophy that Harold has?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t guarantee we can find someone or that he or she will permit home deliveries.”
“I’ll face that when I come to it. This town needs a full-time doctor.”
They were both silent for several long seconds. Amber suspected they were thinking the same thing. She asked, “Shall we arm wrestle to see who gets to mention this to Harold?”
A touch of humor glinted in Phillip’s eyes. “I’m good with that.”
“I was kidding.”
“I’m not.”
She leveled her most serious gaze at him. “Your mission, Dr. White, should you accept it, is to convince your grandfather that he needs a partner.”
“Will this message self-destruct in five seconds?”
“No. I will be here to remind you constantly that God never gives us more than we can bear.” A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“I still think the suggestion would be better coming from you.”
“No.”
He crossed his arms. “From both of us then.”
“Maybe, but you first,” she insisted.
Rolling his eyes, he said, “I’ve already mentioned something like that once.”
“And how did that go over?” she asked with interest.
He shook his head. “Not well.”
Her smile vanished. “You’ll simply have to keep after him. If he doesn’t agree, our clinic could be without a doctor in a few more years. I pray that doesn’t happen for a long time, but I have to be practical.”
“I’m not sure you know what you’re asking me to do.”
Chapter Fourteen
Phillip knew Amber was right. Harold needed to start looking for a partner or someone to replace him. Since their last conversation on the subject ended with Phillip accidentally running Harold down with his car, he wasn’t eager to broach that subject again. His relationship with his grandfather was tenuous at best. It might not survive many more blowups. And he wanted it to survive.
Amber said, “If you are going to be seeing my patients, you need to get up to speed on their cases. I’ll get their files for you.”
He hated giving in on this. He’d hate himself more if Harold had a serious setback following his angry outburst tonight. It had never been Phillip’s intention to ruin Harold’s health, his business or his standing in the Amish community. Yet in the past month he had accomplished just tha
t.
Coming out of her office, Amber handed Phillip a heavy box. “If you look at my outcomes, you’ll see how safe giving birth at home is for low-risk pregnancies.”
He shook his head. The woman did not give up. “You’ve won. What more do you want? Is that everything?” He gestured toward the box.
“Yes, even those patients I sent to the hospital because of complications. What I want is for you to accept what I do. Wait a minute. Before you leave, let me get a few other things for you.”
She sat down at her desk and booted up her computer. A few minutes of searching gave her a dozen articles in favor of home deliveries with qualified nurse-midwives in attendance. Handing them to him, she said, “If you won’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe the data from other experts in the field. Say you’ll at least read these.”
He looked at the loaded box he held. “Sure, in my spare time.”
“It won’t be that bad. I’ve put the charts of the women who are due first on the top.”
“Good. So, how do we get the word out?”
“It won’t take long. I’ll make a few calls.”
He cocked his head to the side. “I thought you said they don’t use phones.”
“No, but the businesses they use do. We can start by putting a notice in the paper and notes up at the grocery and feed stores.”
“I can see the headlines tomorrow. Dr. Phillip White Crumples Under Pressure.”
Her gaze turned sympathetic. “I realize you’re doing this only because Harold insisted, but I do want to thank you.”
It was hard to resist her when she was being nice. “I’ll admit I’ve been curious about how you handle the whole thing at someone’s home.”
“I’m sure your questions will be answered within a few days. I have women due the end of this week and two due the following week.”
He patted the top of the box she’d given him. “Then I’d better get my homework done.”
“If you have any questions I’ll be happy to answer them. I plan to make this very easy on you.” They walked together to her front door.
“Why, after the grief I’ve given you so far?”
