The Good Doctor Read Free Page B

to the other side of the house. “My study’s down this way. Let’s go in there.”
    Then the men disappeared and Violet was left standing in the center of Peter Clark’s house all alone.
    She couldn’t help snooping a bit. Well, not snooping, but absorbing Peter’s surroundings.
    Her apartment was cluttered with mementoes from her childhood—presents her brothers and her parents had given her and selected items that simply carried memories. Now as she wandered toward a pine cabinet with glass doors, she peeked through the glass. There was a picture in a silver frame of a woman dressed in bell-bottomed slacks standing with a man who looked very much like Peter. Beside it stood three leather-bound books that were classics, a photograph of the same woman, older now, standing with five children. On another shelf, Violet spotted a duck decoy carved from wood and intricately painted, a Kachina and a wicker basket filled with seashells. There were several arrowheads and a picture of two young women. Peter’s sisters?
    Glancing toward the study, she realized she was taking inventory to keep her mind off what was happening in there. Would Peter’s findings be different from hers?
    A half hour later, Violet was staring out into Peter’s backyard unseeingly when Ryan and the neurosurgeon emerged from the study.
    Ryan raked his hand through his hair. “He made me do allthe same things you did and asked a heck of a lot of questions.”
    â€œI think Ryan needs an MRI,” Peter advised calmly. “I’ll call a colleague of mine in Houston, where I did my residency, and see if he can set it up there.”
    â€œBut you’ll be my doctor?” Ryan asked hopefully.
    â€œMy speciality is children, Ryan, but let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. We’ll do the test and then go from there.”
    â€œYou’re right. That sounds reasonable.” He looked from Peter to Violet. “I know you two probably want to talk about me. I’ll just go on outside and take a look around.”
    As if knowing neither of them would argue with him, he unlatched the sliding glass doors and stepped outside.
    After Ryan had closed the door and walked farther out onto the deck, Violet asked, “Do you think his condition is serious?”
    â€œAt this stage, there’s no way of knowing. The MRI will tell us what comes next.”
    â€œIs there any reason why Ryan shouldn’t drive? I convinced him to let me bring him tonight, but he’s not the type of man who likes to be chauffeured.”
    â€œI asked him about blackouts and he said he hasn’t had any. He insists he hasn’t been dizzy, either. So until something other than the headaches develop, I can’t tell him he shouldn’t drive.”
    When Violet thought about the possibilities of what could be wrong with Ryan, she felt her chin quiver. Suddenly the idea of losing Ryan was much too real.
    Coming closer, Peter studied her for a long moment. “What?”
    Feeling embarrassed, she shook her head. “He’s…he’s more than a patient to me.”
    A tear escaped the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, and she quickly swiped at it.
    Reaching out, Peter clasped her shoulder. “Don’t borrow trouble.”
    â€œI can’t help but worry. It hasn’t been that long since he and Lily found each other again. They’re so happy.”
    â€œYes, they are. But whether this is stress or something more serious, I know she’ll support him just as you will…just as I will.”
    Peter’s hand on her shoulder was comforting. It was as if she could feel his strength seeping into her. “You’d never know I deal with life and death and grim diagnoses all the time.”
    â€œGrim diagnoses?”
    â€œThere just seems to have been a lot of them lately. Before I left New York there were two young women with MS, and a pregnant mother who