Chapter 2
2
Caroline
The sterile scent of antiseptic was heavy in the air, and I tried to ignore the way it always made my nose itch as I focused on the patient in front of me. Jim Lawry, a wiry man with skin like leather from years under the unforgiving sun, squirmed on the examination table.
“Doc,” he grumbled, shifting uncomfortably, “No offense, but when I said I wanted to see Dr. Cressley, I meant your father.”
I suppressed a sigh, fighting down the frustration that was bubbling up inside me. “My dad retired last month, Mr. Lawry. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.” I snapped off one glove and reached for his chart, trying to keep my tone light despite the challenge. “Now, let’s talk about what I can do to help you with your . . . situation.”
He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “This ain’t something a young lady like yourself should be dealing with.” He lowered his voice and hissed a whisper. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Trust me, there’s nothing you have that I haven’t seen before.” I offered him a reassuring smile, though I knew my eyes were probably giving away more of my nerves than I’d like. “And if we don’t diagnose the problem, we can’t treat it, and you’ll be in even more discomfort. You don’t want that now, do you?”
Mr. Lawry grumbled under his breath, clearly still unconvinced, but after a moment, he reluctantly nodded. I could see the embarrassment in his eyes, but also something else.
A wariness. Skepticism clouded his judgment about my abilities as a doctor. It wasn’t the first time I had faced such resistance from the residents of Whittier Falls since my recent return.
As I delved into a series of questions to pinpoint his symptoms, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease creeping up within me. Taking over my father’s practice should have been easy. Well, as far as medical practice goes.
Whittier Falls was a small town and he had been the only family practitioner here for over a decade. No competition, low stakes. After doing my residency in Chicago, I’d been more worried about getting bored when I decided to take the role. Instead, I found myself dealing with patients who doubted my capabilities simply because of my age and gender.
I’d had a promising career in Emergency Medicine when Dad called to offer me the practice. And now I was here on the verge of begging old Mr. Lawry to pull his pants down so I can examine his suspected hemorrhoids or we’d both be here all day.
“Sir, I promise this will be a quick and professional exam. The sooner we can get to it, the sooner you can get out of here. Now you can lay on the table, or bend over, whatever you’re more comfortable with. But either way, you’re going to need to show me your anus.”
His eyes widened and we embarked on a stare-off of epic proportions. But when he finally blinked, I nodded, gesturing to his pants. He had no choice but to accept his fate. I refused to fail. After a moment, Mr. Lawry turned around, grumbling, and hesitantly lowered his Wranglers, bending over to give me a better view.
Sure enough, I was greeted by red, swollen bumps protruding from his butthole, just as I suspected. An ugly view before lunch, but it was an easy diagnosis.
“Alright, thank you. You can pull your jeans back up.”
He visibly sank in relief as he pulled them up.
“There’s no current bleeding, but I did see some mucus and they are at risk of bursting if you’re not careful. Until they calm down, I suggest using a peri bottle or rinsing off in the shower after you have a bowel movement. Wiping with toilet paper will only inflame the area.”
The poor old man looked at me like he was going to faint from embarrassment.
“I’ll give you a prescription for some cream that should help with the inflammation. Use it twice per day and if you experience any further symptoms, or it doesn’t start to clear up in a few days, give us a call.”
After scribbling out the details, I handed it to him and ushered him toward the door, feeling the sweat prickle at the back of my neck.
I wasn’t a wimp. I’d handled far worse things in the ER on a daily basis. But for some reason, small town life where everyone knew everyone else made these types of cases feel different. Personal. And I really didn’t want to be personal with Mr. Lawry’s ass.
“Thanks, Doc,” he muttered, snatching the prescription and tipping his hat with a reluctant sort of gratitude. “Guess I’ll give it a try. ”
“Good. And don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions,” I called after him, hoping my voice sounded more cheerful than I felt.
The door closed behind him with a click, and I let out a deep breath. My old cowboy boots, which I had stubbornly decided to wear today in some sort of misguided attempt to reconnect with my roots—and okay, yeah, connect with the patients—tapped against the linoleum as I walked into the reception area. The room was empty, save for the tick-tock of the old clock on the wall and the low hum of the ancient air conditioner.
“Looks like you’re free until after lunch, Caroline,” my receptionist Lisa said, looking up from her romance novel with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes.
“Great,” I replied, my own smile a mix of relief and exhaustion.
“But, uh, we had two cancellations for tomorrow.”
“Oh. Did they reschedule?”
Lisa looked pained. Great.
“It’s okay, you can tell me.”
“They both said, in their own uppity, full-of-themselves ways, that they would not be seeing Dr. Cressley’s daughter and will be needing to transfer their files to the family practice out in Bradford.”
I knew it was coming. Those were the fourth and fifth record transfer requests this week. A long, loud sigh escaped my chest.
“Screw them, honey. If they wanna drive the thirty miles all the way to Bradford, let ‘em.”
“It’s really quite a way to go just to get out of seeing me.”
Lisa snorted. “Yeah, but I don’t want you to worry. We’ve got a couple of new patients too for next week. And your books are still busier than most practices in the county. Trust me, this is an adjustment period. ”
“Right.” I did my best to push my fears and frustration down. Or at least not show them to Lisa. “You said I have some time?”
“Yep. Nothing else until 1:30.”
“Good. Maybe I’ll grab a bite at Sutton’s bakery. Her cupcakes are about the only thing in this town that’s changed less than my reputation.”
So much for hiding my frustration from Lisa.
“Oh honey, nothin’ in this town has changed, including your reputation,” she said with a grin. “And that’s a good thing.”
Lisa had worked for my dad since I was in high school, and I knew that coming in to take over the practice would only be possible if she stayed. Luckily, she had no plans on leaving and continued to run the day to day operations like a tight ship.
“I don’t know about that. ‘Nerdy shy bookworm’ doesn’t exactly scream confidence.”
“Maybe not, but imagine the opposite. Poor Lila Hanson went from a goody-two-shoes preacher’s daughter to being known for working the street corner.”
“I think she just has an OnlyFans.” That’s what I’d heard, at least. And who was I to judge someone for making money with what the good Lord gave her? That’s what I’d done with the smarter-than-average brain he’d blessed me with.
“I don’t even want to know what that is,” Lisa said, “but the way I hear it, Kyle Miller sure was a fan of hers, and that’s why his wife just left him.” She crossed her arms across her ample bosom and lowered her voice. “And old Mr. Crawford, who is pushing seventy years, mind you, was caught by the sheriff getting a handy in his car from her.”
“Wait. Really?”
Lisa pursed her lips and nodded. I shuddered at the thought of Lila touching old Mr. Crawford’s penis. If it was even true.
Okay, maybe I was judging. A little. Lord, forgive me.
“You know, I haven’t been on a date in years. I can’t imagine what it’s like to keep up with all those men Lila must be charming.”
“It ain’t about charm, honey.”
“Still . . . ”
“You know what you need? A good romance novel. Book boyfriends are way better than the real life ones, anyway.”
I glanced down at the book she had placed on her desk. The cover featured an aesthetically-pleasing couple in the midst of a heated kiss. The shirtless man had his arms wrapped around the woman’s waist and the way his mouth covered hers, it looked like he was about to devour her.
Was that passion?
I don’t think I’d ever experienced a kiss like that. I hadn’t ever really read about it, either. I’d grown up reading the classics and fantasy, but most of my early adulthood was spent reading for school. Even now, I usually fell asleep each night reading medical journals. When was the last time I’d read for fun? And that book certainly looked fun. Maybe I should branch out.
“Do you have any recommendations?”
She smirked. “Oh, honey, I’ve got a whole darn spreadsheet.”
Ten minutes later, after perusing Lisa’s shockingly organized and color-coded romance book spreadsheet, I’d had the titles of a few books that piqued my interest. One was about a motorcycle club president who, according to Lisa, has a sexy encounter in the woods with a stranger and then when she runs away, he decides she’s his. Just like that. He needs to have her. The idea of such raw possessiveness sent a tingle down my spine as I made my way to get a treat from Sutton.
The midday sun cast a honeyed glow through the tinted glass windows of Campfire Bakery and the bell above the door jingled as it closed behind me. These were little details I noticed here in Whittier Falls, but I couldn’t remember ever noticing stuff like that back in Chicago. Life was too fast—too full—there.
A girl was taking the order of a balding man at the counter and a young couple I didn’t recognized were sharing an oversized slice of carrot cake at a table by the window. I looked at the large glass display case, in awe of Sutton’s creations. Rows of decadent pastries, cupcakes, and cookies called out to me, each one more tempting than the last.
“Caroline Cressley, as I live and breathe!” Sutton Turner burst into the room like a summer storm, her voice carrying the same comforting familiarity as the worn leather seats and the old town photos lining the walls. Her chestnut brown hair was tied back in a practical ponytail, a few strands rebelling around her gray eyes that sparkled with mischief.
Sutton was synonymous with Whittier Falls in my mind. Not just because she was my best friend growing up, though I’m sure that had something to do with it. She simply epitomized this town. Strong. Caring. Always rooted, always warm.
“Congratulations on the new gig, Doc,” she said, slipping around the counter to envelop me in an embrace that smelled like s’mores—the signature scent of Campfire Bakery.
“Thanks, Sutton.” I returned her hug, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease just a tad.
“I’m thrilled for you. The prodigal daughter takes up the mantle,” she teased, pulling away to look at me with genuine fondness .
I chuckled, though the title felt heavy on my shoulders. “Yeah, something like that. How’s the bakery treating you?”
“Busy as ever.” She shrugged, but her eyes lit up with pride. “Turns out people can’t get enough of my peach cobbler cupcakes. I’m so sorry we haven’t gotten to catch up much. That trip up north near killed me.”
I waved her apology off with a flick of my hand. Sutton was busy, and it was a wonderful thing. She’d gotten a huge contract to cater a weeklong wedding celebration up at one of the fancy resorts in the mountains. She’d had to travel up there a week early to prep for the whole thing and only got back a few days ago.
I still didn’t know how she did it all by herself, relying on a couple of part time employees to keep the bakery open while she was gone. The townsfolk almost staged a mutiny when they’d had to open late each weekday on account of still being in high school.
“What about you?” she asked. “Settling back in okay?”
“Sort of,” I admitted, leaning against the counter. I hesitated, then let out a slow breath, deciding to confide in her. “It’s been . . . challenging, honestly. It seems no one’s quite ready to see me as anything other than Dr. Cressley’s little girl, still doodling in her notebooks.”
“Ah, they’ll come around,” she waved a hand dismissively, but her furrowed brow told me she understood the depth of my frustration. “You know how folks are around here. Tradition weighs more than a prize bull at the county fair. But give them time, Caroline. They’re just not used to change is all.”
“Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me,” I said, straightening up. The resolve from earlier began to flare back to life, fanned by Sutton’s confidence in me. “And I’m not just talking about convincing old Mr. Lawry that I’m perfectly capable of treating his . . . Well, you know. ”
We both laughed, the sound of it echoing off the walls and filing away some of the sharp edges of my doubt. “You’ve always been good at beating the odds,” Sutton reminded me. “Remember when you won the science fair three years running?”
“Only because you helped me rig that volcano,” I pointed out, and we shared another chuckle.
“Damn straight. Teamwork makes the dream work.” She winked, then eyed me curiously. “But you sure that’s all it is? I can’t imagine it was easy to leave the big city and come back here.”
“Surprisingly, that was the easy part.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah. I liked Chicago, don’t get me wrong. But all I did was work. I didn’t realize it, but looking back now, I’m afraid I haven’t had much of a life since . . . well, since I was a kid, I guess.”
Sutton reached out and squeezed my hand, knowing my history, the expectations my parents had for me and the effort I’d put in to succeed since I was a teen. She’d always wanted me to “live a little” back then. How sad to think I never listened?
That needed to change.
“Well, you’re here now. And you are settling into a new role, one that’s probably a lot more chill than working an ER in Chicago. So I think this will be your time, Car. We’re gonna make sure you start living.” She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
I smiled back. “Thanks, Sutton,” I said, feeling grateful, and a bit more fortified. “I appreciate it.”
“Always. You’re home now.”
“I am.” The thought was surprisingly comforting, not anxiety-inducing like it was leading up to the move.
“Now, what can I get you to eat? On the house. ”
“Oh no, I couldn’t?—”
She held up a hand. “Ah, I insist. My best friend gets at least one free treat per week.”
Best friend, present tense. My heart warmed. I didn’t realize how lonely I’d truly been until now.
“Well, if you insist . . . that carrot cake looks amazing.”
Sutton beamed with pride, then winked. “Oh, it is.”