Page 16 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls

Chapter Six

FORD

No Lasting Damage

To be honest, I wasn’t a train guy. I’d taken them in every part of the world. India. Canada. All over Europe. But I never understood the appeal. The shifting and rocking of the car and incessant intercom garble grated on my last nerve. Even the Eurostar, while an engineering marvel, was a little too much, with my ears popping every ten minutes as the train raced underneath the English Channel toward Paris.

But as I stood in the hall facing the waiting room of the Ivy Falls Community Health Center, all I saw was train wallpaper, and a track built overhead for a tiny engine. The nurses periodically blew the tiny whistle for the children (and the adults too), who all grinned ear to ear whenever the jarring noise bounced off the walls.

I waited near the door because, according to Shirley, the head nurse, every patient arriving today wanted to meet the person filling in for Dr Sheridan, who was taking a three-month sabbatical to travel with his wife, Sylvie, all over the United Kingdom and Europe.

Once I was done meeting and greeting the waiting patients, which was a strange, yet amusing, experience, I raced back to the office to catch my breath and grab a handful of trail mix before my next appointments arrived.

The office was so small that if I stretched out both arms I could touch the walls. When I’d interviewed with Dr Sheridan two weeks ago, he’d apologized that they didn’t have a separate office for me. That they’d had to expand as Ivy Falls grew, and that I’d have to make do with his space while he was gone on what he called his ‘second honeymoon’.

He’d kindly cleared most of the clutter from the old wood desk that was covered in nicks and water stains. I wasn’t about to complain. It was an office. With a door. When I worked on Humanity of the Seas, my single-berth cabin was less than 700 square feet and had to act as both my living and personal workspace outside the clinic. It was cramped and claustrophobic too much of the time.

I dipped back out into the hall and found the tiny kitchen reserved for employees. A small coffee maker sat on the counter. I poured myself a cup, and the nutty scent made me think of the bookstore. Of Piper.

The minute I saw her standing behind the mahogany bar, that long dark braid lying so perfectly over her shoulder, I was stunned into silence. She reminded me of a woman in a Degas painting I saw at the Musée d’Orsay. The confident figure gazing at something in the distance, not noticing that every eye in the room was focused on her and her unforgettable beauty.

In Harpeth Manor every girl had perfectly cut and colored hair. They were beautiful for sure, but there was always a sense of longing in their eyes. Like they wanted something more – which I understood. The time I spent in Senegal allowed me to carve my own path. Make my own choices. Now that I’d returned from what my parents called my ‘Misspent Years of Charity’, they thought they could talk me into staying.

It wasn’t the life I wanted, and deep down they knew it, but my mother still took every opportunity to throw an eligible woman my way. The scene at the country club a few days ago was by far the worst.

My parents had insisted we were having brunch as a family. They lured me in with the promise of seeing Gray. Even though it meant I had to wear a stiff blue blazer and khaki pants in the wet summer heat, it was worth it to spend time with my brother. I should have known it was a trap when Missy appeared and my parents invited her to join us. Claudia Cannon Beloit Foster was like a hound scenting a fox. Laser-focused on one thing: getting a wedding ring on my left hand.

For most of the brunch we traded small talk. We’d gone to school together, and Missy brought me up to date on what most of our friends were doing. She went on to talk about all the new restaurants in Nashville she wanted to try. Places where they were playing live music. My mother watched us with eager anticipation, more than once interjecting her own comments, including how she was happy that I was home for good. My father bitterly added how he was glad I was done with my ‘ridiculous gallivanting’. I gripped my napkin under the table, biting back all my angry comments.

After we finished our drinks, I told Missy it was nice to see her, excused myself to go to the bathroom and promptly walked out the door. I drove the forty-five minutes back to Ivy Falls, ignoring the constant calls and texts pouring in from my parents.

Too frustrated by their refusal to listen to what I wanted, I paced the brick-paved streets of Ivy Falls, the heat almost unbearable until I slipped into the little bookstore. The last thing I expected was to encounter a beautiful woman. Or be doused with an iced latte.

Days later and Piper still floated through my mind on a regular basis. The memory of her touch, that embarrassed smile as she brushed her hand over my pants, played on a constant loop in my head.

My phone buzzed on the desk. Another text from my mother. This one apologized for ambushing me. I pushed the phone into my pocket and shoved another handful of nuts into my mouth.

There was a slight tap on the door and Janice, the office manager, popped her head inside. ‘Doing all right in here?’

‘Yes, just taking a quick breather.’

She inched into the room, tucking her white hair neatly behind her ears. ‘Shirley says you’ve already seen eleven patients this morning. That’s quite the record. Even on his best days, Doc Sheridan couldn’t get to more than seven by lunchtime.’

‘They’ve all been easy cases. Allergies. Small colds.’

She glanced over her shoulder and took another step into the room, closing the door behind her. Why did I get the feeling I was about to be scolded?

‘The doc usually takes his time with folks. Asks not only about their health, but about their family and job too. He…’ She hesitated, her mouth pinching at the corners. ‘Well, feel free to slow down with the patients.’

‘Have I done something wrong?’

‘No. It’s only that you’re new to Ivy Falls and—’

‘People are used to Dr Sheridan,’ I finished.

‘Yes, and they want to get to know you too.’ She gave me a weighted look. ‘But that can’t happen if you’re slapdashing them out the door.’

‘They do know I’m only filling in, right? That he’ll be back in a few months.’