The Surgeon and the Cowgirl

“Mmm-hmm. What about that teaching hospital that was looking for programs that use alternative therapies? I remember Daddy tellin’ you about it. He saw it on the news.”

“Desert Valley is better,” Jessie said stubbornly.

“Darlin’, that may be true, too, but that’s not why you called Payson.”

“It’s the only reason, Mama. Hope’s Ride needs to be endorsed by and affiliated with only the best hospital. Plus a lot of my kids have doctors there.”

“And at every other hospital in the valley. You are a very smart girl. Even you should be able to figure out why you called on Payson when you were in trouble.”

“It’s business, Mama,” Jessie said, and even she could hear the desperation in her voice. Business was the only reason. She was over Payson. She was the one who’d filed for the divorce, for goodness’ sake. “Having Desert Valley’s stamp of approval will give me a cushion and let me expand in a few years, branch out to help more children.”

“Any hospital could have given you that cushion.”

“Mama, I have to go. I have orientation for the hospital staff today, and then we’ve got a full day of therapy,” Jessie broke in.

Her mother gave a gusty sigh. “Baby girl, you know I love you no matter what. But I swear you and Payson need your heads knocked together. Just business. Not likely. Now, you go and get to work.”

It was hard to get her mother’s voice out of her thoughts. In the dark days when Jessie had been considering divorce, Mama had counseled against it. Instead, she said that Jessie and Payson needed to talk and maybe see a professional. Jessie had tried to follow that advice, but it didn’t help that when they could actually find time to talk, one of them was always tired and distracted. Their discussions quickly broke down into hurtful fights.

Then Jessie stopped asking her mama for advice and went to visit a divorce lawyer. She had just wanted the pain to end. Perhaps now she could admit that, as she signed her name to the papers, Jessie had known that she and Payson still had unfinished business.

* * *

“I THINK THAT went well,” Jessie said to Payson as they ended the orientation later in the day. “Even you seemed comfortable around the horses.”

“Why are you so surprised? It wasn’t like it was the first time I was ever around a horse,” he said, giving her a lowered-brow look that was supposed to intimidate her.

“Dr. Mac.” Alex’s little-boy voice carried easily from where he was getting out of his mother’s car and into his wheelchair, which was a sure sign that Alex was having a bad day. “Dr. Mac. You came to see me ride.” He bounced in his seat and a grin stretched across his face. His brush with near disaster hadn’t dampened his enthusiasm for the horses.

“Sure thing, buddy,” Payson said.

Jessie was surprised. He’d told her that he was leaving right after the orientation session because he had a stack of paperwork back at the hospital. She’d been relieved. Without him around, she didn’t have to think of the interrupted conversations that she knew they needed to continue. Even in the face of Alex’s excitement, a part of her wanted to tell Payson to go—the part that recalled vividly every caress they had ever shared and the part that still got disconcertingly hot and bothered when their arms accidentally brushed or he stood near enough for her to catch the fresh scent of his shaving cream. She said nothing.

“I get to feed Molly her apple today. Miss Jessie promised. ’Member I didn’t get to before when you were here and then Mommy wouldn’t let me come and now Mommy said this is the last time I’m coming to see Molly, so I gotta give her the apple.”

“Your last time?” Payson asked quietly.

Alex pulled on Payson’s arm to get him to lean closer and whispered in a voice that still carried to Jessie. “Mommy said that I couldn’t come anymore ’cause they said that there wasn’t no more money for riding.”

Jessie looked at the little boy’s mother and saw her eyes swimming in tears. “Come on, Alex,” Jessie said, getting behind his wheelchair. “We’ve been waiting for you. You ready to ride?”

“Yep,” Alex said.

“Are you sure? You got your boots?”

He stretched out a foot. “Yep,” he said. This was a game that he and Jessie sometimes played.

“What about jeans? You got your riding jeans on?”

“Yep. Mommy forgot to wash them, but they don’t stink too bad.”

Jessie leaned over and took a deep sniff. “I don’t know. You smell like...road apples,” she said with a grin.

“Miss Jessie, what’s that? Is that the kind of apple that Molly likes?” Alex asked.

Jessie hesitated, looking back at Payson to see if he’d heard the exchange. He was in deep conversation with Alex’s mother. It didn’t really matter if he’d heard, she told herself, because Payson wouldn’t remember her teasing him about road apples and how it had led to their first date. She was the only one who kept being blindsided by memories of their time together.

Jessie couldn’t stop her smile as she explained to Alex that “road apples” was a different way to say horse poop.

He giggled. “Horse doody don’t look like apples.”

“I guess to whoever made that up, it did,” she said. “Time to get riding.” She could see his brain continuing to work on the mystery. As she helped Alex onto his mount, she wondered if this would be his last time. Maybe not. Kids often said things that weren’t true because they didn’t understand what the adults around them were really saying. She tried not to play favorites, but there was something about Alex that tugged at her heart. She couldn’t view him as just another patient. How did Payson do this on a regular basis? How did he work with these children and not get his heart ripped out when he couldn’t help them or, heaven forbid, they died?

* * *

PAYSON WATCHED ALEX find his body’s center as Jessie placed him on a small horse for his therapy session. He was beaming. Obviously, sitting on a horse was better than anything that even Santa could’ve brought him. Payson had spoken with Karin about Alex’s comments and discovered the foundation that had been covering the cost of the therapy had to make some tough decisions about what they would fund. Alex and his riding hadn’t made the cut.

While Payson may not have been completely convinced of riding’s therapeutic outcomes, he could see that there was a psychological benefit in Alex’s case. Recently, the little boy had been more positive about his limitations and even more willing to do his conventional therapy. Payson needed actual research before formally agreeing that Hope’s Ride made a difference for patients’ physical recovery and progress, but in some very specific cases, he could see that the therapy did influence outlook and attitude. The question was whether that improvement made the program worthy of affiliation with a hospital like Desert Valley. If it did, money situations such as Alex’s would likely go away.

“Let me give the foundation a call,” Payson had finally told Karin as tears streaked down her face. “I’m not promising anything, but maybe I can give them the assurance they need.”

“Dr. MacCormack, if you call them, I know they won’t say no.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’ll certainly see what I can do,” he said, and then asked her questions about Alex’s recent regression to the wheelchair. He hadn’t seen anything on the X-rays after the boy’s fall and nearly getting run over by the horse, but Payson worried there was something that had not shown up immediately. Karin explained that Alex had insisted on the chair because he wanted to save all of his strength for the riding and for feeding Molly. Payson had to smile at Alex’s determination to figure out how to work around his illness with as little fuss as possible. Once again, he had to admit that his patient’s improved attitude could be attributed to Hope’s Ride.

When the session ended, Alex broke into a song that he’d made up on the spot about feeding Molly her apples and getting pony kisses. Payson went to him, while Karin stayed in the arena talking with one of the therapists and another mother.

“Dr. Mac,” Alex said. “Are you going to kiss Miss Jessie again?”

“Not this time. And no kisses from Molly, either,” he said, hoping that would quiet the boy. He was pretty sure he heard Jessie chuckle.

At the fence, the pony jammed her head between the rails, her lips smacking in anticipation of the apple in Alex’s hand. The adults stood a few steps away as Alex fed the pony and talked with her. He told her that he wouldn’t be back, but that she shouldn’t be sad. “There are other little boys and girls who will give you apples,” Alex told her, his voice quavering just a little. “Mommy said that someday we’ll come out to visit but that might not be for a little while.”

Payson had learned not to react to emotion from his patients and their parents. With Alex, he felt his heart wrench with every tear. He desperately wanted to tell his young patient that everything would be fine and that he’d be coming to Hope’s Ride as usual. But Payson shouldn’t make that promise. If he were director of pediatrics, then he would have leverage to get a “yes” to this and a lot of other options for his patients.

“Don’t worry, Alex,” he said, squatting beside the boy. “Mommy and I are working to see to it that you’ll be back soon. You can work hard on your therapy at the hospital, and I bet you’ll do even better the next time you’re here.”

“Are you sure?” Alex asked.

“Yep. No need for you to worry,” Payson said, avoiding looking at Jessie. He also didn’t think about the fact that he might just be lying to the boy, and what would happen if he couldn’t convince the foundation to pay for the treatment. “Do you think Molly’s done with her apple? Your mommy’s waiting for you.”

“See you, Molly,” Alex said, and patted the pony. His smile reached ear to ear. “’Bye, Miss Jessie.” He raised his arms for a hug. Payson saw her eyes close as she lifted the boy off the ground and squeezed him tight. When she put him down, Payson was stunned by the pain on her face.

As Alex made his way toward his mother, Payson stepped up to Jessie. “The foundation that helps pay for Alex’s therapy is withholding funds, according to Karin. I’ll give them a call. I’m sure that something can be worked out.”

Turning from him, Jessie said, “He’s not the first child who’s had to stop coming. Unfortunately, I’m sure he won’t be the last. That’s why Desert Valley is so important. More places would help out if the hospital gave us its Good Doctoring Seal of Approval.”

“I’m making the call to the foundation, Jessie.” His time at Hope’s Ride had totally messed with his schedule and now his brain was sorting through what he would face when he finally got back to his office. Helen had left six messages and sent him ten texts. The last said, Get your @ss in here.