Page 18 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls (Ivy Falls #3)

FORD

Earworm

I’d never planned on helping out at the theater.

After a long day at the clinic last week, I was headed toward Minnie’s Market to pick up a few groceries and passed Silvio and the local handyman, Ferris, sitting on the bench by the fountain.

Their voices carried across the square like they were having an argument.

I had every intention of scooting past them when Silvio waved me over and asked if I knew anything about carpentry. A part of me wanted to pretend I hadn’t heard him, but then Janice’s comments about getting to know the people in town filled my head.

‘Just some basics,’ I’d answered.

‘Ferris keeps insisting that the two of us can build the sets needed for the show at the theater, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s too much work for us. Do you have time to help out?’

With the two of them staring at me with a hint of desperation, I’d agreed. Now, two days later, my back still ached, and my hands were covered in new calluses thanks to all the sawing and hammering.

It didn’t help that I’d been on my feet for twelve hours today.

The clinic was packed with allergy cases, several kids who had hand, foot and mouth, and a wrist that was broken in two places thanks to a loose dog and a bad bounce on a trampoline, according to one of the mothers in town who spent twenty minutes telling me the entire story.

I wouldn’t trade my aches and pains for anything though.

Being at the theater had given me another chance to be in Piper’s orbit.

To witness how she easily connected with the kids.

When she sat down at the piano and sang ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’, I nearly dropped the hammer I was holding on my toes.

Her voice was what I imagined an angel would sound like: sweet and shimmering like a morning sunrise.

Listening to her made that thrum in my chest grow louder, the blood dance in my veins.

She’d undersold her talent by a thousand degrees.

With the song playing on a constant loop in my head, I headed down the hallway to Dr Sheridan’s office.

As the light faded from the windows, I finally got my first break of the day.

Unfortunately, my work wasn’t done yet. Before she’d left for the day, Janice had reminded me there were reports and case files on my desk that needed to be reviewed.

I sank into the rickety wooden desk chair and thumbed through the paperwork.

A report attached to Mrs Vanderpool’s file made me stop.

Her echocardiogram showed what I expected – atrial fibrillation.

The notes from the hospital described the plan of treatment, and the blood thinner prescribed to help with the problem.

My thoughts returned to Piper. Her panic and fear outside the clinic. I couldn’t tell her what was happening with her friend, but I hoped Mrs Vanderpool would let her know about her condition when she was ready.

I thumbed through the rest of the reports and came across a Post-it taped to the inside of her file. It noted that Silvio had called twice today with questions.

I picked up the phone and dialed his number. A gruff, male voice barked, ‘Hello.’

‘Silvio?’

‘That you, Doc Foster?’

‘Yes, I saw you called twice today. Is there a problem?’

‘Hold on a minute.’ The phone went muffled and then there was a sharp snick of a door closing. ‘Had to go outside cause Greta is in a mood.’

‘Tell me what’s happening.’

‘She’s been lying to me.’

‘About what?’

‘I’ve been asking if she’s taken the prescription the cardiologist prescribed. She said she has but I noticed the bottle today. Doesn’t look like a single pill is gone.’

‘Did you talk to her about it?’

‘She admitted that after the pharmacist gave her the pills she read the side effects and it scared her. Now she’s refusing to take them.’

‘Put her on the phone.’

‘Could we come see you instead? I know Greta. You gotta look her in the eye. Tell her how serious this is.’

From the way everyone watched her at Sugar Rush, it was clear people wanted to know what was going on with her health, and Piper had made that clear with her prodding after Mrs Vanderpool left the clinic. Perhaps a quiet, face-to-face conversation was better.

‘All right. I’ll wait here for you.’

‘Thanks, doc. You’re the best.’

A slight knock sounded against the glass door to the clinic. Silvio gave me a brittle smile. Mrs Vanderpool was a different story.

‘Why the hell am I being summoned here?’

‘Because we need to go over your treatment and care.’ I waved them toward the office and got a scowl in return.

Silvio reached for her hand and I followed them down the hall. My gaze lingered on their intertwined fingers.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my parents show any kind of affection toward each other.

It was another element of Harpeth Manor I hated.

It was like people walked a thin tightrope between being human and what society defined as appropriate.

There were too many forced smiles that never wrinkled thanks to Botox.

A vacant look in the eyes as if no one could remember the last time they’d experienced any kind of joy.

A half-life where every person worried more about their reputation than making genuine connections.

It was a big reason why I never wanted to go back there. I didn’t care how many zeros were on a bank statement, living a sterile and loveless existence was a deal with the devil I had no interest in negotiating.

Once Silvio and Mrs Vanderpool were seated in front of my desk, I shuffled through her reports. They sat stiffly, Silvio’s hand resting on top of hers. Again, that quiet signal of reassurance was endearing.

‘Get on with it, doc,’ she demanded.

‘Let’s start with the good news,’ I said, flipping through the paperwork. ‘Your cholesterol and creatinine numbers look good. White blood cells in range too.’

‘I appreciate the rundown, but you didn’t bring me here to blow sunshine up my rear.’

This woman was really full of fire. So much like Piper. Now I got why they were so close.

We had a brief staring contest before I recognized the twitch in her lower lip. A flicker of fear behind her clear blue eyes. She knew what I was about to say.

‘Dr Engel at Vanderbilt told you about the atrial fibrillation, right?’

‘Yep. My heart’s not pumping right.’

‘That’s correct, and he gave you medication. A blood thinner?’

She nodded.

‘Have you been taking it?’

The way her skin paled said she understood the real reason for this impromptu visit.

‘This is serious. That medicine will regulate your heart rhythm. If you don’t take it, you could faint again. Possibly have a stroke.’

Silvio took a thick gulp. ‘Doc, I’ve been telling her…’

She shot him a traitorous look and he went silent.

After shifting uneasily in the chair a few times, she said, ‘I’ve never been too good about taking medicine, doc.

Won’t even swallow a pill when I have a headache.

Something doesn’t feel right about putting it in my body.

And that paper that came with the medication.

’ Her voice caught. ‘It said I could have nausea, severe stomach pains or confusion.’

‘Mrs Vanderpool, this isn’t a headache,’ I said gently.

‘Doc, you’re treating me now. Call me Greta,’ she huffed.

‘All right, Greta , you need to do this if you want to go back to a normal life. What do you think people would do around here if you weren’t setting them straight and doling out sage advice? Giving them support when they needed it?’

She quirked an eyebrow at my not-so-subtle reference to Piper.

‘There are side effects. But worse things can happen besides a nosebleed or stomach cramping if you don’t take it.’

Her lower lip trembled as she sank against Silvio.

As a physician you never got used to giving this kind of diagnosis.

You fooled yourself into believing that if you practiced long enough you’d build an iron cage around your heart.

That you’d become immune to the sadness that comes with the job.

But then you had to witness the look of terror like the one currently pinching Silvio’s face, and it was like twisting a knife in your gut.

Mrs Vanderpool looked at me for a long beat, her breaths coming in unsteady spurts.

‘Sweetie, are you hearing him?’ Silvio said.

‘Um, of course. Thank you, Dr Foster. I’ll start the medicine as soon as I get home,’ she said, pushing up from the chair. Silvio snapped out his hand to help her stay steady.

‘I advise you to take it easy. Try to rest.’

‘I will.’

Silvio shook my hand before helping Greta shuffle out into the hall. I held on to the edge of the desk until the outer door clicked shut behind them.

I collapsed back into my chair. This job was supposed to be a blip. A quick way to make some money before I went back to Africa. I never expected to care about these people so quickly.

One of the last things Dr Sheridan said before he left was that Ivy Falls got into your bones.

That the longer you were here, the more you felt at home.

I brushed away the comment because nowhere but Africa had really felt like home to me.

But now I feared his comment was true, because this place, these people, were becoming important to me, and that was the last thing I’d planned when I took this job.

After I’d locked up, I took the long way home. I walked past Minnie’s Market. Her sign this week was a zinger: Don’t shop at big box stores. The prices will ketchup with you! The Pool and Brew’s was just as wild. ‘ Wine. Beer. Whiskey.’ beats ‘Live. Love. Laugh. ’

Around the corner, the scent of cheese and garlic floated out of Mimi’s Pizza.

A few more steps led me to the glass windows that lined the front of the P&P.

It took every ounce of self-control not to push inside and see if Piper was working.

Instead, I forced my feet in the direction of my apartment.