The Magnificent M.D. Read Free Page A

engraved in his memory? Why couldn’t he have left it at that? A brief encounter between high school freshmen who couldn’t have been more different. But no, he had to see her again after class, talk to her in the parking lot and get involved with her. Why? Because she made him feel special, like he was worth something. When everyone else told him otherwise.
    She was like a drug, he realized later, one of those pain killers he prescribed routinely for his post-op patients. In the same way that the pills gave relief to his patients, she’d helped ease the pain in his life. And like those pills she was addictive. Even now, seeing her again, he felt the way he had that day, inexplicably drawn to her, unable to look away, unable to stay away.
    He thought he’d broken the addiction. He hadn’t thought of her for years. Not much, anyway. It was too painful, and though he was many things, he was not a masochist. But here she was back in his life. Showing him that she still had the power to make his pulse rate speed up as if he’d just run the Bay to Breakers Race. Still had the power to make him feel as though he was special and that he could do anything. Why? Not because she’d missed himover the years. Not because he meant anything to her then or now. Because she wanted a favor. She wanted him to come back to the town that hated him. And for what? To check a few sore throats, prescribe some ulcer medicine and set a broken arm or two.
    He’d done a six-month rotation in general practice a long time ago and soon realized it was not for him. He didn’t have the patience to deal with minor problems and nonspecific complaints. No, he was a surgeon, on the cutting edge, so to speak, of the latest procedures, giving lectures at the medical school, writing articles or presenting papers at a conference.
    She stirred her coffee before she answered his question. “I wasn’t out there very long. I couldn’t hear much of anything.”
    â€œBut you tried.”
    â€œYes,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I tried. We’re desperate.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œThe town council. The search committee. The mayor. The school board. The PTA. Everyone who lives in New Hope. We’ve done everything. Advertised in medical schools, interviewed retirees, promised free housing. But doctors these days want more than that. They want to live in big cities. We tried to persuade them that small towns have their own charms. We can offer clean air and beautiful beaches and friendly, grateful people. But they want more than that. They want to make a lot of money,” Hayley said, “and that’s one thing we haven’t got.”
    â€œAfter all those years of school, of going without sleep or money or good times, can you blame them?” Sam asked.
    â€œNo, no, of course not. But we need somebody so desperately. It’s a three-hour drive to Portland and the nearest doctor,” Hayley said.
    â€œOver a winding road,” he noted.
    â€œYou remember,” she said.
    â€œI can’t forget,” he said flatly.
    â€œIn just this last year, since Grandpa died, we’ve had three serious emergencies. A baby was born with complications. Henry Mills had a stroke and Mrs. Gompers died of a heart attack. If we’d had a doctor in town…”
    â€œBut you didn’t,” he said, setting his cup down on the table with an air of finality. “I hope you find one, but I’m not your man.”
    â€œI can understand your reluctance to come back,” she said, “but—”
    â€œReluctance is putting it mildly,” he said. “Shall I go over the reasons?”
    â€œI think I can guess. You don’t want to return to small-town life.”
    â€œThat’s a good start. Go on.”
    â€œYou’re a surgeon and you feel general practice is beneath you.”
    â€œCorrection. I’m a surgeon and I don’t do general