Falling for Dr December. Susanne Hampton
a slight Tower of Pisa lean and a wire chicken coop housing four large laying hens—had been retained, with patient parking relegated to the street. It was picture-perfect country rustic.
Looking at her surroundings, Laine realised she had almost forgotten the relaxed feel of the country. Her designer, sparsely decorated apartment on the fourth floor of a Manhattan apartment building had none of that ambience. And it was of her choosing. Nothing she didn’t need and nothing she would miss when she was away. Streamlined and minimalist.
Focused on keeping childhood memories at bay, she followed Pierce through the yard and out of the back gate to where a large silver four-wheel-drive hire car was parked on the side of the road under the shade of a huge leafy tree. She opened the rear door and placed the equipment inside.
‘I’m staying at the Bushranger Inn down the street. I can come past and collect you in the morning or meet you there,’ she remarked casually as she closed the heavy door on her belongings. Trying to do the same to her thoughts, she made her way to the driver’s side. It was the opposite side from the left-hand drive she was accustomed to but, as a New Yorker who mainly took cabs around the city, she found adjusting wasn’t that difficult.
‘What about I pick you up and I drive us there?’ he returned.
‘I’m perfectly capable of driving both of us,’ she retorted, before she closed the door, turned on the engine and dropped the electric window. ‘But since you don’t want me to drive you, I’ll meet you there.’ Without another word, she put the car into gear and headed off in the direction of her hotel only half a mile down the road, leaving Pierce open-mouthed on the side of the road. Her exit was abrupt, to say the least.
Pierce had not meant to offend her. He had been trying to make up for his less-than-gracious attitude during the shoot with his offer. He quickly realised that what he had thought a gallant act had been something that she’d perceived as insulting, perhaps chauvinistic. He wasn’t entirely sure. Clearly he couldn’t win. She had driven off so hurriedly it had been as if she couldn’t wait to get away from him.
‘What the hell was that about?’ he muttered as he walked inside. He was still shaking his head in frustration as he closed the back door and headed to the kitchen. Despite his best intentions to forget Laine, and her borderline rudeness, as he made his first coffee of the day the New York photographer had his full attention.
‘Good morning, dearie. Who was that motoring off at lightning speed down the road?’ came a voice behind him.
Pierce knew it was his receptionist Tracy, a retired nurse and wife of the former practice owner. Tracy worked three days a week, job-sharing with another local nurse.
‘Morning Trace,’ he replied, turning around with his coffee. ‘The racing-car driver you just missed was the New York photographer in town to shoot the charity calendar.’
‘Was she in a hurry or did you two have words? You seem a little stressed.’
‘You might say that,’ he said, then, noticing her face quickly develop a frown, he added, ‘I thought I was being a gentleman, but somehow I still managed to offend her.’
‘You know, if I’m to marry you off, young man you have to be nice to these young ladies. She was young, wasn’t she?’
‘Yes, young and very beautiful.’
Tracy watched his face curiously. She hadn’t seen him look that way since she’d met him. The woman must be quite something for him to have this reaction.
‘Then you need to find a way to see her again.’ With that she put her lunch in the refrigerator and headed to the waiting room. Tracy knew that fewer words with Pierce always had a better response.
Pierce had already decided that was exactly what he would do after he finished the day. Thinking about how he could arrange it, he picked up his coffee, took a sip from the steaming cup and headed to his office to switch on his computer and check through the patient roster for the morning.
When Pierce had joined the practice two years previously, all the patient records had been hard-copy files with coloured coded spines. It had taken some convincing for the hesitant older partner, Dr Majors, to see the value in moving everything onto what Pierce had touted as a more efficient electronic system. It had meant hiring another administration person to transfer the patient records into the new format but after a sound argument from Pierce, Dr Majors had accepted a small trial. Once the older practitioner had seen the benefit of the system, he’d agreed that the new technology was needed across the entire practice and the surgery had made a much-needed move into the twenty-first century.
A few minutes later he stood in the doorway of the waiting room. ‘Carla Hollis, can you please come in?’ Stepping back, he let the young woman steer her pram into his consulting room, then closed the door and crossed back to his desk.
‘So how is little James today?’ he asked as Carla lifted her baby from the pram. ‘I see you’ve brought him in for his four-month immunisation.’
‘I have, but I’m not sure, Dr Armstrong, he doesn’t seem well today,’ she replied, nursing the infant on her lap. His quickly wriggled his feet free of the blue cotton blanket.
Pierce wheeled his chair closer to the pair. ‘In what way do you mean unwell? Can you be more specific?’
‘He’s had a slight runny nose for a few days now. It turned into a cough three days ago but last night I was up so often that I brought him into bed with us. He kept us awake for hours then finally stopped coughing about three in the morning,’ she said, pulling her long blonde plait free of his chubby fingers. ‘He still has an appetite and he’s been breastfeeding so maybe there’s nothing to worry about.’
Pierce took some disposable gloves from the dispenser on his desk. He slipped them on before he carefully unwrapped the little boy from his soft blue cocoon, lifted up his singlet and, in turn, placed the stethoscope on his chest then his back. Pierce pulled the clothing down again and placed a thermometer under his arm, holding it there for a few moments.
‘Any persistent cough is a concern in an infant and James also has a slight fever,’ he replied, after checking the reading. ‘It’s difficult to tell the difference between whooping cough and another respiratory infection, but I’d prefer to err on the side of caution. I’ll take a swab of his nose to test for the Bordetella pertussis bacterium, which indicates whooping cough, but I won’t wait for the results before we start antibiotics. The test can take time and it can quickly become serious in babies as young as James.’
‘But didn’t he have a shot for that when he was two months old?’
‘Yes, he did,’ Pierce responded as he stood, crossed to the consulting room trolley and collected what he needed to take a swab and returned to the mother and child. ‘That was the first of the three immunisations he requires. One at two months, the next at four months and again at six months. Unfortunately, until he has completed all three he can still contract whooping cough.’ Pierce gently held the infant’s head steady, took a sample from his nose and placed it into a sterile lab container.
‘But he will be all right, won’t he?’
‘I have no reason to think otherwise,’ Pierce answered as he discarded his gloves, sat back down at his desk and began completing the online patient records. ‘Has James been around anyone with a persistent cough?’
‘We had family visit from Tamworth on the weekend and my nieces were coughing all night. I kept James away from them but my sister insisted on holding him,’ Carla replied, as she lifted the child up and gently patted his back.
‘If James does have whooping cough, it’s very contagious. He may have contracted it from direct contact with someone infected with the bacterium—perhaps your sister—or by simply breathing the air within six feet of someone infected with the germs. The bacteria usually enter the nose or throat. We won’t know for sure until the test result comes back but until then please keep his fluids up. We don’t want to risk dehydration,’ Pierce said, as he pulled the script request