Practice Makes Perfect (Single Father) (14 page)

“Well, naturally. She’s his daughter.”

“It’s more than that. I know you think you know him better than anyone, but let me tell you, I know him, too. He’s beating himself up because Pearl died while he was in Victoria with you. Even though he hasn’t taken a weekend off for who knows how long and my mom might have died whether he was there or not, he sees it as his fault. And Lucy blaming him was fuel on the flames.”

“He’s been leaning toward CMS all along,” Sarah said. “I guess this just pushed him over the edge.”

“Does it make you feel bad?”

“Not really.” Sarah straightened her shoulders. “In a way, it makes me more determined to make my idea work.”

“Yay for you.” Elizabeth clinked her coffee cup against Sarah’s. “Who needs men, anyway? Let’s talk business.”

S
ARAH
HAD
FELT
pretty chipper when she left Elizabeth, but as the day wore on, she started to feel less and less confident about her plans and, ultimately, about whether she even wanted to stay in Port Hamilton at all. First Rose had dropped by to inject her own brand of negativity into things, and then that night, while Sarah was on the Internet, Matthew called to tell her his decision.

Just hearing his voice, she had felt her resolve crumble.

“Congratulations,” she said, her voice clipped and brittle. And then, unable to resist, “I guess.”

“Sarah, I had to. You—”

“I don’t understand. I know.” Her temper got the upper hand. “You have a family to support. Ideals don’t pay the mortgage.” There was silence on the line. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I hope things work out for you, really.”

“You could give it a try yourself,” Matthew said.

“I’d rather fry hamburgers.”

“So you’re still going ahead with your plan?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Because you’ve decided to join the opposition?”

“It’s unrealistic, Sarah.”

“For you maybe. But that’s what I intend to do.” She wanted to sound certain, but to her ears her voice sounded full of a ten-year-old’s bravado.
Fine, I’ll start my own game.
“And don’t tell me all the reasons it won’t work, I’ve heard them all from my mother. It only makes me more determined.”

“Same old Sarah.”

“There’ll always be room for you,” she said. “If you ever change your mind.”

“I’ll remember that. Listen, I hear my name, I’ve got to go. I’ll…see you around, Sarah.”

“Yeah, see you around, Matthew,” she muttered as she hung up the phone.

The following day and for most of the next week, the
Peninsula Daily’
s front pages were full of Compassionate Medical System’s takeover. In the kitchen, Sarah cradled a coffee cup in both hands and stared at the newspaper spread out across the counter. A picture of a smiling Matthew in surgical scrubs extolling the benefits of practicing on the peninsula. On the next page, a feature about the new state-of-the-art scanning machine. On the editorial page, one letter of dissent lamenting the good old days before corporate medicine.

Sarah cut that one out and stuck it on the refrigerator.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

A
WEEK
WENT
BY
,
then two, then a month. Matthew left a couple of messages on Sarah’s voice mail. Once she’d been riding her bike past the hospital and she saw him in the distance and rode the other way. It seemed there was nothing to say to him, no way to bridge the distance. A cold sort of emptiness filled her heart. Despite Elizabeth’s daily reassurances, she found herself wondering more than once whether staying in Port Hamilton was really the right thing to do.

She said as much while they were walking out on Lopez Hook one morning.

“I thought I could come back here and just pick up where I left off. But everything’s changed. I’ve changed. I’m not so sure anymore that this is really where I belong. Maybe Matthew and my mother are right. Maybe I’m being hopelessly naive.”

“Hey, you can’t back down,” Elizabeth said. “There are people on the other end of the peninsula just waiting for you to get started.”

“I realize that, but—”

“Is it the money?”

“No, I wasn’t making much in Central America, either. Besides, I have some my dad left me.”

“Matt?”

Sarah wiped her eyes. “I felt…feel, I don’t know, it seems crazy…”

“First me, then Lucy. Right?”

“Yeah. I want him to choose
me.
” Tears in her eyes, she grinned. “Choose
me,
or I’ll have a hissy fit.”

“Give him time. He’s got his own stuff to work out. Plus he’s a guy. They do things their own way.” She grabbed Sarah’s arm with both hands. “Listen, toots, you can’t run away again. Port Hamilton needs you. Not to mention I need a job. How would Elizabeth Cameron, receptionist/office cleaner/supply buyer/general gofer look on my business cards?”

“Great,” Sarah said. “Go order them.”

A few days later, after a restless night, she dressed and walked out into the thick morning fog that had drifted in from the strait. Shoulders hunched, hands thrust in the pockets of her parka, she trekked the mile to the Olympic National Park and then down a winding trail into the woods.

The deeper into the thicket of trees she walked, the cooler the air around her felt. With the soft mulch of the trail under her feet, the quiet cathedral-like hush was broken only by the twitter of birds. From the harbor, she heard the ferry’s horn. And then she looked up and, through the highest branches, still veiled by mist, a pale gleam of sunshine had broken through. She tipped her face up and felt the faint warmth. It seemed as good a sign as any that she should stay.

And then, later in the day, she saw Debbi at the farmer’s market. Her now white-blond hair was cut close to her scalp. Her left eye sported a fading bruise that had turned the colors of a tropic sunset. Curt was nowhere in sight.

“What happened?” Sarah asked.

“Oh…” Debbi shrugged. “I fell.” Clearly uncomfortable, she busied herself rearranging a pyramid of red peppers. “I broke up with Curt,” she said. “Well, he walked out. He’s moved in with this woman who does colonics.”

Sarah met her eyes for a moment. “So how are you doing?”

Debbi shrugged again. “Okay. I miss him, though.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “He’s difficult to be around sometimes, but…we kept fighting about Alli.”

“How is she?”

“Doing great now. Whatever it was cleared right up and she hasn’t had a problem since. I guess the herbal stuff worked. Curt was right.”

“Good.” Sarah wanted to say more, but customers were jostling for position around the stand. “You have my number. Call me. Even if you just need to talk,” she said with a glance at Debbi’s bruised eye.

“Great. I probably have some other patients for you, too. I know a bunch of people who don’t have cars to get into Port Hamilton. They’d think they’d died and gone to heaven if a doctor made house calls.”

Sarah smiled. “Well, that’s a deal then.”

T
HAT
EVENING
Rose dropped by carrying Deanna in a huge cage. “He’s lonely,” she said. “And since you’re here all day, I thought the two of you could keep each other company.” She set the crate down on the kitchen floor. “If you have tuna, I’ll feed him.”

Sarah looked at Deanna. Deanna hissed. Sarah bared her teeth.

“He isn’t usually so touchy,” Rose observed, her back to Sarah.

“Perhaps he doesn’t like being called Deanna.” Sarah found a can of tuna in the cabinet. She got the can opener from the drawer. “How’s he going to pick up a mate with a name like that?”

“He doesn’t seem to have much trouble in that department,” Rose said. “I don’t think they bother exchanging names. By the way, I ran into Matthew at the hospital the other day. I was complaining that you wouldn’t listen to reason, this whole solo practice thing, and he said I should be proud of you.”

Sarah tried to keep her face expressionless.

“You can’t exist on house calls alone,” Rose said. “Eventually, you’ll need to have an office.”

“First I need to find one I can afford.”

“Use the old consulting room,” Rose said. “Rent free.”

Sarah gaped at her. “Are you serious?”

“Perfectly. There’s a certain synergy to it. Family tradition and all that. Your great-grandfather used to make house calls in a horse-drawn cart.”

Sarah didn’t trust her voice.

“Actually, I am rather proud of you.” Rose handed Sarah a set of keys. “I still think it’s an absurdly impractical idea, but I’ve grown quite used to having you around and I would prefer that you don’t go gallivanting off to Central America again.”

“E
VERYTHING
’
S
GOING
SO
well, it’s almost scary,” Elizabeth said a few weeks later as she drove Sarah out to a trailer park on the west end of the peninsula to visit Debbi Kennedy and some of her friends and neighbors who’d signed on as Sarah’s patients. Neil Diamond was singing “Sweet Caroline” on a moldy-oldies radio station. George had called last night and the weather had finally turned warmer.

She dug into the bag of fat-free white cheddar cheese potato chips tucked into the console between them. Every day it seemed either she or Sarah heard from someone who wanted to be added to the list of patients.

Lucy was doing better, too. Matthew was spending a lot more time with her now that he was working for CMS and, although she’d never say this to Sarah, she suspected Lucy was happier now that Sarah was out of the picture. Just about the only person who didn’t seem chipper right now was Matthew. Maybe he missed Sarah. Maybe they missed each other. But Sarah clammed up whenever Matthew’s name came up.

Pine trees flew past the window. Pine trees and more pine trees. Elizabeth glanced at the speedometer and realized she was doing eighty. She let up on the gas and grinned at Sarah. “Easy to speed out here where there’s no traffic.”

“Fine with me,” Sarah said. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” She took a handful of chips.

Sarah didn’t say anything more and they drove along in silence for so long it started to feel uncomfortable. “You’re not sorry I talked you into this?” Elizabeth finally asked.

“No, of course not,” Sarah said. “These people have kids who get sick. Someone needs to take care of them.” She grinned. “I’ll be fine until I run out of money.”

T
HE
FIRST
PERSON
she saw when they pulled up outside Debbi’s trailer was Curt, jeans loose on his hips and a floppy straw hat shading his face. He walked over to meet them. “If it isn’t the good doctor herself,” he said. “Come to dispense her medical wisdom on the unwashed masses.”

Sarah, reaching into the backseat of the truck for her medical bag, felt a sense of foreboding. A few feet away from where he stood, two goats were grazing among what looked like rows of spinach. It occurred to her that Alli’s intestinal troubles could have stemmed from some sort of E. coli contamination and she made a mental note to look into it later.

“Hey, Curt.” Ignoring his sarcasm, she stuck out her hand. “How’s it going?”

“Everything is marvelous,” he said. “My woman has left me, taken my child.” He gestured at a row of raised planting beds. “My crops are suffering from neglect, through no fault of my own, I might add. This, of course, means that my livelihood is essentially down the toilet, but—” with one hand, he swept off the hat, bowed low “—other than that, no complaints. And yourself?”

From where she stood, Sarah could smell alcohol on his breath, see the enlarged pupils that made his pale eyes look almost dark. Hadn’t Debbi told her that Curt had moved in with another woman? She tried to remember, then decided ultimately the domestic issues didn’t matter. “Is…Debbi here?”

“No, Dr. Sarah,” he said, “Debbi is not around. Didn’t I just explain? Debbi has taken a powder. With our daughter.” He laughed. “My, I do have a way with words. Debbi, my constant companion, has taken a powder with our—”

“I heard you the first time,” Sarah said. “Do you know where she is?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Curt said. “And if I had, I certainly wouldn’t tell you since you, Dr. Sarah—” he stabbed her chest with his forefinger “—are indirectly, or perhaps directly, a cause of our…shall we say
estrangement?
”

Sarah glanced around, reassured to see Elizabeth coming toward them. The borderline quality to his personality, which had struck her as eccentric but harmless, now seemed ominous.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about,” she said.

Curt stroked his chin and appeared for a moment to be deep in thought. “Well, let me explain, Dr. Sarah. Once upon a time, two happy hippy people and their small child were leading a quiet and simple life selling the fruits of their labor at the local farmer’s market. But then one day a serpent crawled into their world, masquerading as one of them when, in fact, she was an emissary of evil. Soon, the serpent had lured half of the happy couple away, promising to rid the small child of some imaginary ailment while all the time conspiring to poison her with a cache of evil drugs.”

“He’s nuts,” Elizabeth muttered in Sarah’s ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Look,” Sarah started, but Elizabeth grabbed her by the arm and practically marched her down the dirt path to the asphalt road that led to the other trailers. When she peered over her shoulder, Curt had disappeared.

“Did you hear that?” Sarah asked.

“I heard enough.” Elizabeth still held Sarah’s arm as though she was afraid Sarah might bolt and go back. “You don’t want to mess with him in the state he’s in right now.”

“I’m concerned about Debbi and the baby,” Sarah said, recalling the bruises on Debbi’s face.

“Maybe one of the neighbors will know where she’s staying,” Elizabeth suggested.

But no one in any of the other trailers, including the mother of a toddler with eczema on his back, knew anything of Debbi’s whereabouts. “They were having some problems,” the woman said as she took the sample tubes Rose had donated to Sarah. “But what couple doesn’t?”

D
RIVING
BACK
TO
Port Hamilton, Sarah took some comfort in the knowledge that if the child had been seen in Rose’s dermatology office, the charges would have exceeded a hundred dollars. Instead, she’d scribbled out an invoice and, reluctantly, accepted the ten dollars the woman gave her. It would hardly pay for her gas, but that wasn’t the point.

“Our instinct is to feed ourselves first,” an old village healer in Mexico had once told her. “And to only make friends with others if they can feed us. But if we are willing to feel hunger, something more valuable comes out of that discomfort which is that we can help somebody else at the same time.”

She tried to keep this in mind. Tried not to worry about Debbi. Tried not to think about Matthew.

“I
ALREADY
POSED
for a picture,” Matthew told the public-relations woman, a young pretty blonde in a figure-hugging red suit, who had arrived in his office, camera and digital recorder in hand. He wondered, as he had more than once since he joined Compassionate Medical Systems, how many public relations and marketing people the organization employed. They seemed to be everywhere.

“That picture was for the print media,” the woman said. “This is for our employee magazine.”

“You can’t use the same picture?”

“Dr. Cameron.” She laughed the way you’d laugh at a naughty but appealing child. “You’re the cover story for our next newsletter. Not only do we need more pictures, we also need to do an interview about the rewards of practicing medicine here in Port Hamilton. You don’t have the interview down on your calendar?”

Matthew tried to recall. Actually his calendar had been taken out of his hands. Literally. He now had a secretary who kept his appointments on her computer, coordinating them with the BlackBerry he’d been given by CMS executives as a token of appreciation for his work in encouraging the medical staff’s en masse acceptance of the new regime.

In one sense, not having to keep track of his appointments was a relief. Although he saw fewer patients, he was constantly taking overnight trips to the company’s headquarters in Seattle to attend meetings. He was also on numerous local committees. Compassionate Medical Systems, he was learning, was very big on committees.