“I hope you give this fresh start a real chance, Wes.” Seth moved behind him and clamped him on the shoulder. “You know it’s time. You deserve to be happy again.”
Finalizing the sale of the house that held too many broken dreams and walking away from the successful practice he’d helped to build from the ground up in Alabama was supposed to be the ending of a long, difficult chapter.
Signing the paperwork to purchase the beach house and small medical practice in Sunset Cove was supposed to be the beginning of a new, calmer chapter.
Thus far, Wes found himself trapped in the tragic-twist part of the story. He wasn’t sure he’d ever figure out how to give a new chapter any real hope.
Seth squeezed his shoulder. “You hear me, man?”
Wes dropped his hands away from his neck and worked on filling two mugs with coffee. “I already had happiness once.” He lifted one of the mugs and breathed in the scent before taking a sip, as the what-ifs began a worn-out mantra. “I’m not here looking for that. I just want some peace and quiet.”
Seth reached over and took the other mug. “It’s been well over three years—”
“Yet it feels like just yesterday.” Shaking his head, Wes moved over to the spacious breakfast nook surrounded by bay windows and plopped down in a chair that faced the ocean. The table set, with a custom-built bench seat along the back and chairs on the other three sides, was stark white and chunky. Clean-cut, yet comfortable. It was new, just like all of the furniture pieces. His old furniture, along with the rest of the material belongings from his last chapter, was left behind in storage.
Too bad he couldn’t do the same thing with his memories.
•••
He read the nameplate on the office door for probably the hundredth time. Weston Sawyer, MD. It was his name, yet he was unconvinced it should be gracing the new door. He opened it and motioned for the older gentleman with white Einstein hair and a woolly mustache to enter.
“Are you sure you’re ready to step down from this?” Wes had spent a majority of the first three days at Carolina Pediatrics fielding questions on why Doc Nelson wasn’t there. Most folks wanted to know if it was possible for Wes to call him up for a second opinion. “Seems the town isn’t ready.”
Doc settled in the chair in front of Wes’s desk and folded his hands over his belly that was becoming slightly paunchy. “Kid, I’ve got one foot in the grave and the other on a slippery banana peel. I ain’t ready to slide on in just yet. Got some fishing to get in first, and staying here won’t give me the time to do it.”
Wes sat in his chair, being mindful not to slouch. Doc had called him kid from day one, but at age thirty-seven nothing about him felt youthful anymore. “But—”
“You know where to find me if you need me. From what I’ve heard from Agnes, you’re doing just fine. No complaints so far, so that’s a good sign.”
“Well, if you’re not here to kick me out, to what do I owe this honor?” Wes steepled his fingers and tried not to hold his breath, knowing something was up.
“Agnes and I have talked it over, and well . . . we’ve decided it’s time for her to retire, too.” Doc nodded again, encouraging the fluff of hair to flicker about in his enthusiasm.
Wes sat up straighter. “But you said she’d be here to help with the transition.” He shook his head in disbelief as he rubbed his jaw. “I don’t have time to see after patients and run the office. Especially with having to deal with your outdated paper filing system. Your wife promised to stay on.”
Doc reached over and patted Wes’s arm. “Calm down, kid. Agnes is already searching for a new office manager. And she’s not cutting out on you until she trains whoever takes the position.”
Wes let out a long exhale as he stood, even though he really didn’t feel any better about it. “Okay. Got any more surprises you care to drop on me before I open the doors for the day?” He removed his suit jacket and replaced it with his white lab coat. After wrapping the stethoscope around his neck and straightening his tie, he moved over to the door and waited for Doc’s reply.
“Nah.” Doc smoothed his mustache, looking thoughtful. “But I’ll get back to you as soon as I do.” He slowly stood, his knees popping out a tune. “Kid, don’t worry about the mule; just load the wagon.”
“I’ll do my best, but you know how I am.” Wes chuckled quietly and accepted the fatherly hug the old man offered before exiting the office. Doc liked to call him out on his obsessive need to keep to a precise plan. Life had proven to him in the cruelest way that most things were out of his control, so he did his best to keep a firm thumb on anything he could control. Looking around the freshly painted blue hallway and then to the man beside him, he was beginning to doubt he had any control in his current situation.
“Do better than your best.” Doc waved over his shoulder and headed toward his wife’s office down the hall.
The first time Wes met Dr. Wallace Nelson was at a conference eleven years earlier. The spunky old man was the keynote speaker. As soon as he took his place behind the podium and began speaking in his rich, Southern vernacular, everyone in the place seemed enamored of him. Fact of the matter, the man knew his stuff when it came to pediatric health. He had just enough mix of old-school with cutting-edge science that it got the job done when it came to a sick patient in need of healing. Wes knew he was blessed to call the brilliant man his mentor, even though Doc always liked to bestow the quirkiest colloquialisms on him. Recalling some of the wise nonsense Doc had shared with him through the years, Wes gave in to a private chuckle and moved to the front of the office to get the day going.
The gamut of earaches, sinus infections, and wellness visits were like a calm breeze compared to his grueling days at Regional Pediatric Hematology/Oncology. That was a medical field that required a significant portion of a doctor’s soul, and after his personal life crumbled, Wes didn’t have any soul left to pour into it. The plan was to walk away from his medical career and allow the darkness of his loss to do its worst. He stayed buried in that desolate place for the better part of three years, until a phone call early last year from Doc left him with no choice but to honor a promise made long ago.
Wes pushed back the lingering thoughts he wished would stay in Alabama and focused on the next chart, which indicated the patient was suffering from a rash. Just as he turned to head to the exam room, the front door burst open, producing a frenzied mess of a woman with a toddler clinging to her.
The new open-area layout allowed the visitors in the waiting room a clear view of the reception area, and it also made it easy for Wes to watch as the distraught woman rushed toward him without pausing to check in. Several comments followed behind her from the adults in the waiting room.
“Hey!”
“You have to wait your turn!”
“My daughter is next!”
As she jogged past him, wearing a giant straw hat and designer sunglasses, something in the back of his mind registered her as familiar, but he dismissed the notion and hurried to catch up with her. “Ma’am, you need to check in at the front and—”
“It’s an emergency!” the petite woman yelled over her shoulder as she let herself into a vacant exam room, holding the little boy for dear life.