His thoughts returned to the present. Other than the attendant at the information kiosk, he still hadn’t seen anyone else around. A moment later, as he turned onto Second Corinthian, he understood why. The entire town seemed to be gathered in the street in front of the hospital. Puzzled as to what was going on, he eased the car down to the beginning of the crowd and parked on the shoulder, aware that everyone in the throng was now looking his way.
As he got out, Beth materialized out of the group and met him with a quick kiss that caused a murmur of approval from the gathering.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“The town wanted to show their appreciation for all you’ve done for them. Come on, I’ll show you.”
The crowd quickly parted, arranging themselves into a double row like a gauntlet. But instead of bearing clubs, they harbored only gratitude, each man, shaking his hand and saying a few words of thanks, and each woman, giving him a quick hug as he passed. The whole event must have been meticulously planned, because everyone there knew that the greetings were to alternate from side to side of the double line. And Beth had quickly moved ahead of him, so she’d be out of the way.
After one hundred fifty or so handshakes and as many embraces, he arrived at the front door of the hospital, where Beth was waiting for him. The crowd closed in, clustering around the entrance.
“This is what we wanted to show you,” she said, turning to a big piece of white poster board taped to the brick. She pulled the tape loose and revealed under the board, a bronze plaque that said, Robert Martin Memorial Hospital.
Carl was taken completely by surprise. They had named the hospital after his father.
Carl turned to the crowd and tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat. Making another attempt, he said, “Thank you all for this. It’s a wonderful tribute and something I’ll always be grateful for.”
The crowd applauded and cheered.
Beth tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. “Now, Dr. Martin, we’d like to talk to you about something.” She grinned conspiratorially and glanced at the first ring of folks watching. “We are on the verge of signing a contract with a developer who wants to add a new section of a hundred homes on the east side of town, beyond the park. He believes the area will be a magnet for people wanting to get away from the city. And that’s not the only way our population will be growing. There are three couples here today, who think they may be expecting. And us without a doctor.”
Carl had been listening to her with no idea where she was going with this, but now he did, and the bold thrust of it took his breath away.
Mouth agape, he looked at Beth, then at the crowd, which began to chant, “Doc-tor Mar-tin . . . Doc-tor Mar-tin . . .”
He hadn’t given any thought to reentering the practice of medicine . . . this was all happening too fast. He couldn’t give them an answer standing there on the steps. He’d have to make a list of all the pros and cons, consider each point at length. He looked at Beth.
“You know this is where you’re supposed to be,” she said. “Here with all your friends . . . and me.”
In that moment, he realized she was right. Artisan was the one place on earth where he truly belonged.
“I’ll have to brush up on my family medicine.”
Beth linked his arm in hers. “I’ll help you study.”
(Please continue reading for more information about Don Donaldson)
About Don Donaldson
Don’holds a Ph.D. in human anatomy. In his professional career, he has taught microscopic anatomy to over five thousand medical and dental students and published dozens of research papers on wound healing. He is also the author of seven published forensic mysteries and five medical thrillers. He lives in Memphis, Tennessee, with his wife and two West Highland terriers.
The Blood Betrayal Page 31
