Chapter Twenty-Eight
E arly Thursday morning, Lee answered her phone on the third ring as she walked down the hall to the empty doctors’ lounge. “Hi, Mom.” It was eleven back home. This call was later than the usual morning verandah and social pages chat. Also unusual on a weekday, but sometimes Mom called when the spirit moved her.
“Hi, doodlebug. How are you?”
“Good. Been busy. Five inpatients and a delivery yesterday—”
“Uh-huh. That sounds nice. Done any shopping lately?”
“What? No.” A few weeks ago, she had quit shopping online or in person for anything other than absolutely necessary supplies. She’d decided to let those credit cards recover and her bank account catch its breath.
“That’s nice.” Mom’s sip came through the connection. Probably enjoying her usual mimosa. “So, a little over a month until you finish that job and you’ll be home again. We can’t wait.”
“Mm.”
“When you get back, your father and I have a dinner planned for you. We invited some friends over, including city council members. Dr. Lunsford from the Alpharetta family practice clinic will be there, too. You can talk with him about joining the group.”
First of all, the attendees were her parents’ friends. Not hers. This dinner had little to do with Lee and everything to do with small town political networking and keeping up appearances.
Secondly, Dr. Lunsford and his colleagues were all nice people. But compared to the broad scope of rural medicine she could practice, a suburban Atlanta outpatient clinic wasn’t the kind of setting that best fit her skills and the parts of family medicine that were meaningful to her.
“No, Mom, that’s not the plan—”
“Oh, and Preston can’t wait to see you. I’m sure you and he will get right back together. He’ll be at dinner. It’ll be good for his career that the city council members see you after your mission trip to Alaska.”
Lee sighed. “First of all, this is a job. I’m working for a rural hospital. It’s not a mission trip. This isn’t charity. Second of all, Preston and I are done, Mom. I’m sorry that you feel this is information you have to hide.” She settled on the doctors’ lounge couch. “I’m not sure why you are so invested in his career—he’s not even your son. Regardless of the reason, you have to let it go. I have.”
That was a true statement. She had cut the anchors weighing her down. She had committed to repairing her finances while also providing rural medical care.
She needed to contact the recruiter later today.
“I just thought…” Mom trailed off.
Lee rubbed her forehead. In addition to the financial issues, she had her personal baggage, but now she had tools to better evaluate her decisions, trust her own judgment—for her career and her relationships—and set boundaries.
Take this conversation, for example.
She ran a hand through her hair and leaned back. “Mom, I love you, but I need you to hear me. This is the last time I am going to say this. Preston and I are no longer together. We were well and truly divorced as of several months ago. We were separated long before that. He did bad things. He’s not a good person. Do with that information as you and Dad see fit. I am not going to associate with him.”
There was a sharp intake of air. “Seems selfish to me. What will people think? What am I supposed to tell the city council members?”
Ugh. Lee counted to ten.
Right around the number six, Mom delicately coughed and said, “Well, you’ll see things differently when you are back home. Not sure how you stand it out there. I saw on The Weather Channel where there was a big blizzard in Anchorage. Hope you were okay.”
Lee began counting again, then gave up. “I’m not sure I’ll be coming back to Georgia. Not long-term. I enjoy the work I’m doing. I like being able to use all of my skills to make a meaningful impact on the local community. I don’t mind the rural life. It’s peaceful.” Most of the time.
Mom gasped, and Lee visualized her clutching pearls.
She continued, “And I know it’s hard to understand, but Alaska is huge. What you’re describing is like saying a blizzard in Atlanta is going to affect people living in Michigan.”
A sniff. “Well, it would if it’s a big enough storm.”
Lee held her tongue. “Fair enough.”
Silence spread out between them like an old lace tablecloth.
“Still there?” Lee asked.
“Yes.”
“But?”
“Your father and I will miss you.”
“Wherever I am, you can always come visit. I’ll be back from time to time.”
“Where would I stay?”
“Best cross that bridge when we get to it.”
A clink of a glass on the verandah tabletop. “You’re happy?”
She sat up straight. “Yes, I truly am. It’s been a rough few years, and this work is good for me in so many ways.” It was a relief to finally articulate her thoughts to Mom.
Another weight lifted from her shoulders.
“You have friends?”
“Oh my gosh, I’m thirty-five and you’re asking about friends?” Lee chuckled. “Yes. Lots of friends, Mom.”
“Then I’m happy for whatever it is you do out there.”
Lee swiped at her damp cheek. “That means a lot.”