Chapter Five
T he only reason Lee didn’t have to deal with a call from Mom on Monday, her first night in Yukon Valley, after she’d gotten settled in the modest two-bedroom rental mostly had to do with the four-hour time difference between Georgia and here. Unfortunately, when Mom texted Lee Tuesday morning… oof , that loud ding hurt at five a.m. local time. At least she texted rather than called. Easier to deal with right now in the pitch-black chill of early morning.
When are you coming back home? Preston was asking about you. He’s considering a run for city commissioner.
Lee pinched the bridge of her nose. No how are you or did you arrive safely?
Nope. In Mom’s world, denial was indeed a river in Egypt. Ignore, avoid, distract—that was her go-to response when embarrassed. Mom had much more pressing items, like maintaining the family image. That meant wifey Lee needed to be seen supporting her ex.
Apparently, infidelity, sucking Lee’s savings account dry, and a divorce didn’t slow Preston Dupree down from brazenly climbing the local government career ladder like kudzu. He truly was a weed—nice-looking in season, useless, and relentless in its destruction of everything beneath it.
He sure enjoyed using her family’s connections for a foothold. He’d also enjoyed the first several years of her attending physician salary. Holy heck, he had gone through those funds faster than a fresh ten blade on tensioned skin. In the divorce mediation, it was ironic how he insisted on sharing her money but not her medical school loan liabilities or the credit card debt. When faced with a future fifty-fifty split of her income and her debt, he’d agreed to call things square with what he’d already spent in lieu of her future earnings and walked away. She had her own income, own debt, and her very own rock-bottom credit rating. He had his Range Rover, a ski boat in its premium slip at exclusive Bald Ridge Marina on Lake Lanier, and their three-thousand-square-foot lake cottage on which they still owed a bushelful—all in his name now, including payments.
She typed back. It’s a three-month locums contract. And it’s five in the morning.
You never needed sleep. I’m up. It’s nine in the morning here.
She sighed. Communication with Mom had little to do with Lee.
Another message. Come back and help at the local practice in Alpharetta. See some patients a few days per week. You’ll have time to join Beau Monde with all my friends.
High on the list of things Lee didn’t wish to do—enjoy monthly tea and tiny cakes during midmorning meetings of well-dressed ladies who voted on which charity their society dues should support, while planning the next fundraising cocktail party at the country club. Nothing wrong with Beau Monde, or any social philanthropy for that matter. But if Lee were back in Georgia, she’d feel more at home seeing patients, not brunching over small talk.
Didn’t matter. Lee had no extra money for society dues or much else, thanks to Preston and his financial vacuum cleaner act. Which was unfortunate, given that she needed to get a few more work outfits and a new pair of shoes after ruining the ones she had worn in the snow yesterday. Wasn’t like she could shop locally for clothes like that. In a few days, the Amazon Prime order would reach this rental house. Lee snuggled deeper into the blankets.
True, she could have fought Preston to get some of her money back, but those funds were long gone, spent on his toys and memberships. Also, Mom hadn’t wanted their divorce to be public, so the less messy the resolution, the better. Mom constantly fretted about what this divorce meant for her affiliation with Beau Monde and for Dad’s political image.
Lordie. What a situation. Which reminded her, by late next week she should get her first locums paycheck deposited in her bank account. Lee needed that small infusion of money flowing into a fresh new account Preston couldn’t access to make a dent in her overdue credit card bill and stay on time with this month’s student loan payment. Yay, only twenty-seven more years to go until her loan was paid off.
Her parents presented as wealthy, but Lee knew the truth. She’d gotten a merit scholarship for college and took out need-based loans to cover all of medical school. However, all their friends seemed to be under the impression that her parents had easily paid out of pocket for her education. Mom always said, “Successful people find a way to appear successful.”
On the outside, the Tipton family sure did look the part.
Mom continued. I can inquire with Dr. Lunsford. They’d hire you in a minute. No one needs to know about that little speed bump in your marriage. You could start fresh by helping Preston’s campaign.
Gritting her teeth, Lee pulled the blanket over her head, fighting to stay warm against the chill. Speed bump, her freezing butt.
Why would I want to go back to him? she replied. He cheated and stole from me. He tried to get me fired on a made-up HIPAA violation. He’s not a good person.
Unlike a certain handsome and earnest EMT who, despite his gaffes, seemed like a genuinely kind guy whose main agenda appeared to involve helping others and making her heart rate speed up. Lee wouldn’t mind spending some time with him in the back of his ambulance.
Sitting in the dark cocoon of blankets, she pictured his hands sweeping over her waist and back as her fingers traced the firm ridges of his chest and shoulders. His mouth would be warm as he nipped at her lips. Mmm. The shiver that skidded down her spine had nothing to do with the air temperature.
Nope. No rebounds. No do-overs. No saving face for her ex. No more trusting her ability to pick someone with honorable motives. Heck, she barely knew Maverick. He was a handsome guy who had been slightly kind to her. She shoved far out of her mind the image of his broad smile that reached to his bright blue eyes.
She reread her last text. Leave it to Lee’s ingrained polite upbringing to describe that narcissistic, money-grabbing, philandering social climber of an ex-husband as not a good person . It was like saying traffic on I-75 through Atlanta was a little busy .
Everyone makes mistakes , Mom typed. I’d rather keep your temporary separation private. Your father’s reelection bid and Preston’s career goals mean that we all need to do our part to help.
Heaven forbid Lee tarnished her family’s carefully cultivated image of wealth and success. That image was a facade, anyway. Her parents had inherited their home in Alpharetta from Grandpa Tipton, including all of the furnishings. They pooled the best fixtures in the most public spaces. Rooms with worn rugs or substandard furniture never hosted visitors. Simple as that.
Mom and Dad’s mantra. If you refuse to see a problem, then the problem didn’t exist.
Case in point. Lee’s divorce.
No, the priority was Dad’s aspirations, which meant achievement in local politics and projecting success in every aspect of his and his family’s life. Mom’s persona as a wealthy but charitable and supportive society wife needed to remain untarnished.
Lee sat up in bed. What part of final divorce decree did Mom not understand? The only reason last fall’s dissolution of marriage paperwork had sailed through the court was her parents’ connections with a judge who agreed to sign off—quietly—if Dad would consider the judge’s sister’s request for a business license to open a boutique in an area of Alpharetta zoned residential. Lee wiped imaginary grease off her palms, thinking about yet another of Dad’s back-door deals.
I have to go to work , she typed.
It’s five in the morning. You don’t have to leave for work. I haven’t had my breakfast and newspaper yet.
Lee could imagine Mom in her flowy robe, sitting in the sunroom, sipping a fresh-squeezed orange juice, flipping through the lifestyle pages of the Alpharetta-Roswell Herald , and tsking about the goings-on of the area’s upper crust.
Talk later. Lee would have thrown the cell phone if not for the fact that she was on call starting in three hours, which required a functioning means of communication. The pager was nice, but it helped to have a way to return the page to the hospital.
She flopped back and pretended that the modest but tastefully decorated rental house room was filled with warm filtered sunlight that dappled thick and shiny magnolia leaves. She imagined the pungent white blossoms moving in a warm breeze. If she screwed her eyes shut, she could envision bright red azalea bushes nearby.
Lee’s nose was cold.
*
On Friday that week, Lee adjusted her green Max Mara blouse under her lab coat as she hurried from the inpatient area of the hospital to the clinic. Running late. Again. She waved at a smiling Deirdre Steen in passing and kept on speed-walking in her ruined leather shoes. The new ones she’d ordered had pushed her credit card balance to the limit, but with luck the shoes and a few other garments would be here soon. She smoothed a hand over her slacks and focused on her day’s work.
Two new babies plus several adult patients with pneumonias, COPD flares, and one serious case of sepsis meant that today’s rounds had started early and lasted until late morning.
Yukon Valley might be a small facility, but there was nothing small about the patient care here. She had worked in Dahlonega, Georgia, technically a rural facility, but her inpatient work there had been limited to laboring patients and newborns. A hospitalist team managed all of the inpatient cases, shipping out any severely ill patients. ER doctors treated ER patients. Outreach specialists visited frequently, making clinic and hospital consultations easier to access. Every doctor had a narrowly defined scope of practice.
Not so in Yukon Valley Hospital. Lee, the other two family doctors, and two physician assistants held the line here at the end of the world. They literally treated everyone and everything because there was no one else to care for the people living in this area. Not just the town but she’d been told the hospital also covered several Native tribes—no, she reminded herself, the tribes were called corporations here—within a sixty-mile radius.
Lee peered out the hospital’s main entrance windows at the snow blowing sideways across the parking lot. On days like this, sending sick patients to Fairbanks or Anchorage wasn’t an option.
She popped into the ER. No patients. No ambulances bringing patients in. No paramedics with broad shoulders and a broad smile.
Not that she was looking for anyone.
She headed to the opposite side of the facility, stepping through an unmarked door into the back entrance of the clinic. She slipped into the break room, nearly running over Dr. Kathy Moore, a rural physician who had thirty years of experience. Kathy yelped and curled her entire body around a steaming cup of coffee.
“Sorry!” Lee held her hands up.
“My precious.” Kathy stroked the mug which read I Heart ATP on one side and had a picture of the Krebs cycle on the other. She straightened, took a sip, and sighed, the numerous lines on her face relaxing. “How’s Ruth Sampson doing?”
Lee mentally reviewed the hospital census while eyeing the homemade treats on the table. Staff often brought in yummy snacks.
“Prednisone is helping the COPD exacerbation, but on the downside, blood sugars have become hard to control.”
“Nothing a little sliding scale insulin won’t fix,” Kathy quipped.
“Ah, but then add in a smidge of likely sepsis on top of the COPD flare, because who wants something easy? Blood, sputum, and urine cultures are pending, so for now, I’m sprinkling her with IV pip-tazo and vancomycin until I can narrow the antibiotic coverage. Giving saline boluses to improve perfusion until, of course, she inevitably gets fluid overloaded—because that will be my luck.” Lee paused as she poured herself a cup of coffee and added sugar. “Would you prefer to round on her this week? One of the nurses said she’s kind of a VIP.”
Each of the doctors took hospital call in blocks of up to a week at a time and part of that duty involved rounding on all of the hospitalized patients. Taking call in longer blocks provided continuity of care, which was better for patient safety and outcomes. But being on call for multiple days at a time? Not as restful for the doctors.
Kathy smiled and sipped her coffee. “Ruth is a local village elder who I have seen for many years.” She leaned a hip against the break room table. “However, I’m enjoying the fact that right now my phone doesn’t ring and my pager doesn’t beep. It’s been great having you here, picking up hospital rounds, taking weight off of our shoulders. Shay was relieved to know her maternity leave would be covered.”
Lee smiled. She hadn’t met Dr. Pitka yet, but all the staff seemed to adore her. “I’m sure she and her family are enjoying the time off.”
“Hmm. Sure.” Kathy seemed to slip around the comment. “Here’s what I know is true: Getting up at three a.m. feels different at age thirty than it does at age fifty… something.” She smoothed a tendril of slate-gray hair back behind an ear. “That’s not to say Paul and I aren’t available to help if you need us. Dial-A-Friend is an option at any time.” Paul Burmeister was the other family physician here, younger than Kathy by ten or so years and married to a radiology tech who was from the area.
“Good to know.” Lee picked a chocolate chunk cookie, bit into it, and hummed to herself as the rich semisweet chocolate melted on her tongue.
“If you ever want to stick around, we can always use excellent rural doctors. The more the merrier.”
Lee chewed and swallowed. “That’s nice of you to say.”
After a moment, Kathy asked, “So. Any more EMS rescues on the side of the road lately?” She peeked at Lee over the rim of the mug. “With cute paramedics around?”
“Smooth, Kathy.” Lee cursed how her cheeks warmed. “Don’t you have clinic patients to see?”
“My 10:30 patient was Ruth.” Kathy pointed at the clock on the wall. “She no-showed me because someone admitted her early this morning. I have nothing but time.”
Great. “Has my start in Yukon Valley become local legend?”
“Oh yes. We love new people and funny stories!” Another sip. “Everyone’s heard about your introduction to Yukon Valley and warm welcome from the EMS crew.”
Lee’s heart fluttered, like a young girl reacting to a crush. No. She would not let herself think about Maverick in any way aside from a professional one. She knew the value of learning from history. Lee had been fooled by a handsome face before. Besides, her work in Yukon Valley had an expiration date. “It’s as if a person could run naked from one end of town to the other and back, and the rumor would still beat them to the starting point.”
Kathy shoved up the sleeves of her thick sweater. “Well, the windchill out there is minus twenty, so I’d like a heads-up on the arrival of the naked person so we can properly treat their hypothermia and frostbite.” She snagged a snickerdoodle from a plate and dunked it in the coffee before taking a bite. “Come on. Throw an old lady a bone. I don’t get out much, so these sorts of happenings in town are always exciting. Besides, the guy who works at the deli—”
“Tuli?”
“Yes. He’s Ruth Sampson’s grandson, if you didn’t know. If you’ve interacted with him or if someone mentioned you around him, then any rumors have already gone around town via his online posts. Twice. He’s got more connections on social media than the national power grid has outlets.” She whispered, “I heard that famous singer, Alissa, follows him and liked one of his The Real Alaska movies he posts on the Insta.”
Lee snorted at Kathy’s attempt to stay up-to-date on the social media jargon. “Great. New gal gets to be gossip fodder. The interior Alaska online communities hear all about it. Shenanigans go viral. I see how you all roll.” Lee laughed as she walked with Kathy toward the clinic work area. “Sorry to disappoint, but there’s not a lot of rumor meat on the bone here.”