Page 4 of A Hidden Hope

Dok stood at the Lancaster train station, waiting for her three aspirants. She needed a better name for them, although she did think of them as aspirants. Temporary until proven to be competent.

How should she refer to them? Protégés sounded too Mozart-ish.

Mentees sounded too young. Apprentices sounded like something out of the Middle Ages.

Contenders had a competitive ring to it.

She settled on candidates. Yes, that had the right ring to it—modern and respectful, without implying too much hierarchy.

She glanced at her watch, anticipating their arrival any minute now.

The train’s whistle blew in the distance, and Dok felt a surge of fresh nervousness.

This could be the beginning of what she had hoped to find—a true partner for her work.

Someone who shared her philosophy—the importance of house calls and of offering alternative options of treatments while still providing all that western medicine had to offer.

And, as Matt pointed out last night, she had not one doctor to choose from but two. And a nurse to boot!

She should be happy, Matt told her. Fern Lapp had agreed to provide room, for a fee, of course. Dok needed the extra help, he reminded her.

Thanks to Matt’s interference, Dok might be facing an ideal solution to the ongoing problem of being perpetually overworked.

After receiving the information on the aspirants—um, candidates—from Stella Penkowski via email and reading through it last night, she felt a little better and a little worse. Both.

Far down the tracks, she saw the lights of the approaching train and tried not to think of all the concerns that had kept her tossing and turning most of the night.

Wren Baker, female, age twenty-seven, graduated at the top of her class.

So why would someone as qualified as Wren Baker want to come to Stoney Ridge? Why not Massachusetts General or Dartmouth-Hitchcock or some other prestigious hospital? Why not a fellowship? Or a specialty? Why hadn’t she had a match? Dok frowned. What could be wrong with her?

Then there was Charlie King, male, age twenty-seven. He graduated at the bottom of his class.

The very same class at Penn State College of Medicine as Wren Baker.

So why was Charlie King here? Perhaps, Dok wondered, a little worried, he had no other options? None.

On the same train today was Evelyn Miller, age twenty-six, fresh out of nursing school. Excellent recommendations. The only downside, from Dok’s point of view, was that Evelyn’s contract as a traveling nurse was only for three months.

Why did Evelyn choose to come to Stoney Ridge? Why not someplace exotic or exciting? If Dok were her age and had the option of contract work, she’d be off to Morocco or Istanbul. Not a farming town in Pennsylvania.

No matter the reason, Dok was looking forward to meeting Evelyn.

Even if she was right out of nursing school, she would have had far more hands-on patient care than the two new med school graduates.

They had spent the last four years primarily as student observers.

Medical school was divided into two phases: preclinical and clinical.

The first two years were in a classroom and laboratory, the second two were spent watching and learning from other doctors at work.

After medical school came the residency programs, and that’s where doctors received intensive, supervised training.

And Dok, apparently, was now their supervisor. She let out a huge sigh. How was she going to manage supervising two inexperienced doctors with her packed schedule?

She could practically hear Matt’s answer to that question: “It might take a little time at first, Ruth, but soon those two doctors will be able to handle a lot of your workload. Everyone starts somewhere. Think of the doctors who supervised you when you were a new graduate.”

That was the problem, right there. Dok’s chief resident was a ruthless dictator, determined to break the residents’ spirits—through exhaustion and humiliation—and worse.

And then, despite how awful he was, Dok ended up having an indiscreet relationship with him.

She cringed. It was a low point. A very low point.

Was she really once that person?

She was. Naive, lonely, insecure, cut off from her family because she left the Amish church, looking for love in all the wrong places. It was only for the grace of God that she was a different person now.

Her back stiffened. She refused to be a ruthless dictator to these two candidates.

But she couldn’t quite figure out what kind of supervisor she should be or could be.

She never thought of herself as a teacher.

Maybe it had something to do with her own ADHD—diagnosed as an adult—but patience was not her strong suit.

She moved on quickly to the next thing, and it was frustrating to not have others keep up.

As the train pulled into the station, brakes squealing, Dok braced herself for this new situation she found herself in. Matt advised her to take it slow with the candidates, and she thought that was good advice. Very, very, very slow.

A striking young woman was the first passenger off the train.

Elegant. Dark brown hair, slicked back into a low no-nonsense bun.

And her shoes! High, high heels. She looked around and walked straight toward Dok, rolling a suitcase along the platform.

She laid a palm on her chest and said, “I’m Dr. Wren Baker,” as if that should explain everything. “You must be Dr. Stoltzfus.”

“Why, yes. I am. How did you know? Oh! Never mind. I get it. You must have seen the TV show.”

Wren Baker tilted her head. “Actually, you’re the only one on the platform wearing a white lab coat.”

Dok looked down. Oh. Oops. She’d been in such a rush this afternoon that she’d forgotten to take it off when she left the practice.

When she looked back up, she noticed another woman approaching, this one pulling a larger suitcase.

She was on the smaller side of average, with a heart-shaped face and a mass of sandy hair that teetered between curly and frizzy, all held back in a ponytail.

There was something effortlessly pretty and approachable about her—friendly, in that girl-next-door kind of way. “Evelyn Miller?”

“That’s me. I go by Evie.” She smiled. “I’m guessing you are Dr. Stoltzfus?”

“I am. So I believe we have one more?”

Wren spun around. “Charlie. He’ll be here in a moment.”

But the train was starting to leave the station. Suddenly, one suitcase, then another, came flying out of the train, bursting open and scattering clothing, sundries, and books all over the platform. Then someone leaped off the moving train and ran back to collect the huge, beat-up suitcases.

“Oh, poor Charlie,” the nurse said under her breath. She hurried over to help him gather his things. The other doctor did not.

Dok blinked, trying to process what she was seeing.

This disheveled man was the other doctor?

His hair was pulled back in a messy topknot, round tortoiseshell glasses perched on his nose.

He wore baggy corduroys, a rumpled button-down shirt, and a pair of running shoes that had clearly seen better days.

Energetic, Dok could see, as he scrambled to gather his things.

Once everything was jammed back into the suitcases, the young man picked them up as if they weighed nothing.

He approached with a big, friendly smile, the nurse trotting behind.

“Dr. Stoltzfus! I’m Charlie King. Sorry to keep you waiting. I got my suitcases stuck trying to get them off the train.”

Dok studied him for a while, weighing her first impression.

Everything about him screamed that he wasn’t a professional.

Sure, he was warm and engaging. But he lacked that confident authority most doctors, like Wren Baker, had in spades.

And he clearly wasn’t the most organized person.

“How’d you get the suitcases into the train? ”

“Sideways,” he said, still grinning. “The conductor encouraged me to hurry it up unless I wanted a ride to Philadelphia.”

Oh boy. Bright red flag , waving high. “Before we leave the train station,” Dok said, “I’d like to go over a few things.” Just in case they wanted to turn right around and hop back on that train.

“First off, I’ll be honest—I only found out yesterday that I’d be supervising two residents. So if I seem a little unprepared, that’s because I am. It’s going to take some time to figure out how this will all shake out.” She let that sink in, giving them a chance to reconsider.

“Now, maybe you already know this, but over half of my practice is with the Old Order Amish. Most of my patients rely on traditional remedies and alternative treatments”—Wren’s eyebrows shot up at that—“and they prefer to handle things their way first. Many are reluctant to even step inside a doctor’s office, which is why I prioritize house calls.

Gaining their trust takes time.” Dok knew that firsthand, even with a brother who was a bishop.

She scanned their faces. Evie looked eager, Charlie looked pleased, and Wren ... well, Wren was checking her watch.

“So, we’re all facing a big adjustment. It’ll take a few weeks for me—I mean, us—to get our footing, but in the grand scheme of a residency, that’s nothing.” Dok offered a wry smile. “With that said, welcome to Stoney Ridge.”

“Shall we be off then?” Wren said, already heading toward the parking lot.

Dok watched her go, feeling a bit irritated.

She knew she should cut them some slack—they were probably just as anxious and uncertain as she was.

But in less than five minutes, she’d already gotten a sense of how these three operated.

The only one she thought would be the right fit for her practice was the nurse.

And she was the only one who wasn’t staying.