A Perfect Homecoming

This was not good. How much did Paula know about last night? “So you’re okay? Physically?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Still pregnant, still on bed rest, and now I’m ticked off. What did you say to Ashleigh?”

“I thought you didn’t want her here.” Kyle remembered to moderate his voice in the public cafeteria.

“I don’t,” she shot back. “But she’s my sister, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” he said gently. “Do you want me to ask her to stay?” Please say no. After he’d kissed Ashleigh last night, he’d wanted to kick himself.

He’d also wanted to kiss her again, and again, if truth be told. He’d always been physically attracted to her, no matter what was going on emotionally.

“It doesn’t matter.” Paula’s voice caught. “She told me she’s here for the duration. Even if I asked her to go, she wouldn’t. Not that she’s ever listened to me.” A sound like a sob came from Paula.

“Are you crying?” He couldn’t tell if she was angry or sad, but he knew better than to point out her irrationality.

Another sob. “No, I’m not crying,” she said before succumbing to actual crying.

“Listen, would it help if I talked to her and apologized?”

“I don’t care. I’m tired of people plotting behind my back.”

“You know that’s not what we’re doing.”

“Really?”

“We’re trying to do our best for you and your baby.”

Paula sniffled. “I know. I’m sorry.” She sobbed, a choking sound that nearly broke Kyle’s heart. “I just want to be back in charge of my life.”

Kyle grasped for something to say. “This will all be over soon and you’ll forget about the bad stuff when you hold your baby.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Paula ended the call and Kyle wasn’t sure if he was supposed to talk to Ashleigh or not.

* * *

LATER THAT MORNING, after Ashleigh got the boys off to school and knew Paula would be okay until lunchtime, she headed out to run some errands. Paula’s stress level would be lower without Ashleigh hanging around. Besides, she had her cell phone with her if an emergency arose.

First off was her pediatric practice to see how things were going.

“Good morning, Dr. Wilson.” Cammie Varrone, the fortysomething office manager, greeted her with a welcoming smile. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”

Ashleigh returned her smile. “I’m helping out my sister. She’s having some pregnancy complications.” That sounded like a reasonable answer, as long as no one asked about her relationship with her sister.

“Tell her we’re wishing her well and let us know if we can do anything.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Ashleigh said. “Is Dr. Mitchell in?”

“He’s returning calls in his office. His first patient isn’t due for another fifteen minutes.”

Ashleigh pointed to the closed door that led to her father’s office when he’d owned the practice. “I’ll peek in for just a minute.”

She knocked quietly on the door and heard, “Come in.” She slowly opened the door and stuck her head in the room.

Stan Mitchell’s eyes widened and he smiled. He held up one finger and ended his phone call. “Let me know if the fever continues with the new antibiotic.” He hung up the phone, rose slowly from his chair and came around the desk. “Come in, come in! It’s so good to see you!” He hugged Ashleigh and it crossed her mind that this man she didn’t know that well was giving her such a warm welcome, while others she’d known for years had barely acknowledged her presence.

He held her at arm’s length and looked at her. “So how are you? What brings you here?”

She quickly updated him on her life and explained in minimal terms why she was in town. Yet, during their conversation, she got the distinct feeling that there was something wrong with Stan.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Busy as usual,” he said. “You know how it is.”

When Ashleigh moved to Richmond, Stan had taken over the pediatric practice she’d inherited from her father upon his death. Stan had grown up in Grand Oaks but had spent his medical career at a children’s hospital on the West Coast. The high stress level had worn him down, so he’d gratefully accepted the position in Grand Oaks.

“Well, just make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” Ashleigh wasn’t convinced he was simply overworked. “I can help out while I’m in town, you know. Come in a few hours a day to give you a break.”

“What about your sister? I thought you were here for her.” At least Stan didn’t give her a flat-out no.

“She doesn’t need me twenty-four seven—in fact she’d probably like the break. The boys are in school during the day, so I can come in the morning, go home to get Paula lunch and then come back for an hour or two until the boys get home.”

Stan lowered himself onto the corner of the desk. “If you think you can do it all, then I’d be grateful. I am feeling kind of worn-out these days. My wife’s been complaining that I barely have enough energy to eat dinner.” He laughed, but Ashleigh’s concern heightened. “I probably need some B vitamins to perk me up.”

They set up a schedule for the rest of the week and Ashleigh went on her way. Other than forcing him into a doctor’s office for a physical, she wasn’t sure what else she could have done. Next time she saw him, though, she’d push the physical idea. One step at a time.

* * *

AFTER A QUIET MORNING in the E.R., there had been a sudden rush of patients when Kyle was about to take an early lunch break. Now it was nearly one and his starvation was finally appeased after finishing a turkey sub and two apples.

“There you are.” The young female voice behind Kyle startled him. “You didn’t answer your page so they sent me to look for you.”

He turned to answer the young student nurse. “What’s up, Katelyn?” He checked the beeper at his waist, wondering why he hadn’t felt it. He must have been really hungry not to notice.

“Dr. Mitchell was brought into the E.R. with an apparent heart attack. Ms. Snyder thought you’d like to know,” she said, referring to the E.R. ward clerk.

“Stan Mitchell?” The guy was in his mid-fifties. At the girl’s timid bob of her head, Kyle rose from his chair, nearly knocking it over in the process. “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder, and hurried through the busy hallways to the E.R.

“What’s Dr. Mitchell’s status?” he asked breathlessly of the E.R. ward clerk.

“He’s in curtain three,” she said. “His wife is over there.” She pointed toward the waiting room where a petite blonde was wringing her hands.

Kyle turned on his heel to speak to Stan’s wife, unable to recall her first name. He pulled a metal chair closer to the youthful-looking woman probably in her mid-forties and sat. “I’m Kyle Jennings, Mrs. Mitchell. Stan took over my ex-wife’s pediatric practice.” The term “ex-wife” would never flow smoothly off his tongue.

She nodded her head. “Yes, I remember you. We met at that hospital fund-raiser.” Her eyes were red and puffy. “Is Stan going to be okay? One minute he was talking to me at lunch and the next—”