in down the hall.” She seemed at a loss for what else to say. He wasn’t helping a bit by standing like an idiot with his usual blank stare. “I love this building,” she said. Her eyes shone as she mentioned the three-story cream-colored Victorian house turned medical clinic. “I used to drive by, read the MidCoast Medical Group sign, and say, ‘one day I’m going to work there’, and now I do.”
Her enthusiasm pained him. It smacked of idealism and hope—things he couldn’t remember. Jason couldn’t think of an appropriate response, and stared blankly.
He’d purchased the mansion several years back for his partners’ business venture with his wife’s encouragement. She’d loved the building, too. Back then, the optimism now glimmering in Ms. Albright’s eyes had resided in his heart.
“And this is Gina.” With a mild blush across her peach and olive-tinged skin, her smile widened, pressing dimples into her cheeks, and it almost felt contagious. But he’d given up smiling a long time ago.
The little one ducked her head into her mother’s shoulder, no longer bold. She’d no doubt realized Jason was not someone she could trust with her clear eyes and easy smiles.
“Hello, Gina. And Ms. Albright, you should be a good fit for our practice.” He recited the hollow words to keep up the façade of being human—at least half human—for the child’s sake.
Having completed his duty with a begrudging greeting, Jason sat down, sending a direct message that their introductory chat had ended. There was nothing more he could say. Not looking the least bit flustered by his blunt move, Claire nodded. The child on her hip squirmed to get down. She obliged, but held the girl by her shoulders and marched her down the hall without another word.
So the medical group had finally hired a fifth practitioner. They didn’t want to bring in another full-time doctor, but had decided an RNP would be a big help. Besides seeing the routine overflow patients, she’d be counseling the diabetics and high cholesterol clients on diet and exercise. Or so René had promised. She could also perform physicals on both adults and children, and routine PAP smears on the female clients. The others would think of more to keep her busy as time went on.
René had mentioned something about the new employee taking a more holistic approach to patient care, whatever that meant. As long as her medical advice didn’t get too out there, what did it matter to him?
Jason did have one concern about adding a fifth group member, though—what was he supposed to do with his freed up time? The clinic was as much of an escape from life as it was a means to practice his profession. If he ever caught up with his backlog, he’d be faced with dealing with the world outside. He couldn’t afford to let that happen.
“Not exactly the friendliest guy on the planet,” Claire mumbled to Gina, closing the door to her new office two doors down from Dr. Rogers. Her daughter scampered across the room, not interested.
Though overall he was good-looking, with straight brown windswept hair and strong masculine features, there was a deadness in his steel-gray eyes as if he’d had the life sucked out of him. It unsettled her. His empty gaze had sent a chill down her spine.
Jason Rogers struck Claire as a wounded soul. A fit and sexy man wearing a drab gray polo shirt and windbreaker who looked very much alive, but in his core he seemed damaged and unable to connect.
“It takes one to know one, Dr. Rogers,” she whispered. The thought of reading his obviously broken aura both intrigued and frightened her.
Her snap assessment of her new employer didn’t matter. She’d joined this medical group for the opportunity to practice a more inclusive style of medicine, not to make friends. And after the doozy of a job her ex-husband had done on her, her lagging self-esteem needed a positive boost.
They’d married young, with plans to travel the world. Shortly after their first anniversary, she’d started experiencing strange symptoms, which interfered with their plans. He’d been unforgiving, and chastised her over the next couple of years for not being strong enough when she couldn’t finish a hike or a long bike ride. When she’d taken to bed with unexplained aches and pains, he’d accused her of faking it, as if she were nothing but a hypochondriac. A year later she’d become pregnant and things between them seemed to look up, but everything changed for the worse when she was finally diagnosed.
That was all water under the bridge, as the saying went. She’d learned so much in her quest to make her life better. She credited alternative medicine for giving her life back to her, and she wanted to extend her knowledge to her future patients here at MidCoast Medical.
She’d vowed that the new job was about what was best for the patient. The total patient. For all she cared, if Dr. Rogers wanted to weave a standoffish cocoon or hang upside down in his office and spit at people, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t give him the power to matter to her—as long as he left her alone to do her job.
Gina ran to the window and pointed to the sparkling Pacific Ocean off in the distance. “Pwetty.”
“Yes, it is.” Claire studied the resplendent view as a warm rush of excitement rippled through her. The clinic was situated in the heart of downtown Santa Barbara, a few streets over from State Street, the main boulevard. She stepped closer to the window and saw the pier through the palm trees. She’d definitely moved up in the world since, as a Nurse Practitioner, she’d also completed a degree in holistic medicine.
This was her chance to prove that medicine was evolving away from the old cut and dried methods to a more symbiotic approach connecting traditional medicine with holistic and alternative care. She treated the whole person, not just the physical aspect, but also the emotional, social and spiritual being. She’d already gained the other doctors’ trust, when she’d introduced them to the world of homeopathy during her interview. They thought she’d be a good fit for their practice.
Claire was living proof that alternative and traditional methods worked best for chronic illness. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a relapse from her Lupus, and she’d managed to keep her daily aches and pains to a minimum. As long as she kept everything in balance. She glanced in the direction of her new colleague’s office; something about Jason Rogers knocked her off kilter.
Gina tugged on her pant leg. “Hungwee.”
Claire scanned the several boxes yet to be unpacked. She grinned at the greatest gift she’d ever known. “OK. Give me a second.” Her daughter smiled up with innocent, trusting eyes. It was almost two o’clock, long past lunch time. They needed to eat. Maybe after, Gina would take a nap while Claire finished setting up her new office and attached exam room.
The Victorian mansion, complete with wraparound porch, gorgeous bay window and princess tower was big enough to house a spacious waiting room in what used to be the sitting room, while the receptionist’s office would have been the dining room, and there was still room enough for three doctors’ offices plus exam rooms on the first floor. The kitchen, pantry and laundry rooms had been turned into the doctor and nurse lounge, and the nurses’ downstairs supply and procedure room.
The second floor, where Claire’s office was, had been left to Jason and his family practice until she’d barged in. One of the bedrooms had been turned into a small waiting room for his patients, and another had become the nurses’ upstairs station plus another procedure room. The high ceilings with crown molding throughout gave a spacious feel, and the wainscoting made each room special. The third floor had been left for storage, or so Rene Munroe had said when taking Claire on her initial tour a week and a half ago. Jason’s door had been closed that day, and René hadn’t made an effort to tap on it or to say hello.
Claire needed to pinch herself to believe she’d been hired into such a prestigious and beautifully housed medical practice. But what would it be like working down the hall from the standoffish Jason Rogers?
“Hungwee!”
If only everyone on earth could communicate as directly as a two-and-a-half year old, life would be so much easier. “OK, pipsqueak, let’s go.”
Claire