Doctor, Darling. Jo Leigh

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      A woman in a denim dress stepped out of the coffee shop and stood stock-still when she saw him. She stared at him oddly, as if she’d just seen his face on America’s Most Wanted. He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. Friendly little town.

      There it was. Odds ’N Ends. And right smack-dab in the middle of the display window was a real jewel. A rib spreader, circa early 1800s. In terrific condition. Conner’s gaze stayed on the surgical antique as he pushed open the door. Well, tried to. It was locked.

      Then he saw the little sign. Closed For Eleanor’s Birthday. Conner had no idea who Eleanor was, but already he didn’t care for her. Six hours on the road, a lousy meal at a truck stop on the way, and the place was closed for Eleanor’s birthday. Great.

      For a moment, he contemplated getting back in his car and heading for home, but then he looked at the rib spreader again. What else might Mr. Johnson have inside?

      Conner looked at his watch. It was almost four. He was hungry, tired and cranky, and a shower would be mighty welcome. He’d passed a motel. The Set ’N Stay. What was it about the word and these people hated?

      He quickly crossed the street and headed for the motel. The woman in the denim dress had moved, and now she stood in the shade of the fabric store. He nodded again, and she stared again. Weird. Then, as he passed the hardware store, another woman stepped to the doorway. She, too, gawked at him, unsmiling. He didn’t bother nodding to her.

      When it happened again at the Laundromat, he got the willies. Another woman, this one with lacquered silver hair and little pursed mouth, lifted her head to peer at him through the bottom of her bifocals.

      “Afternoon,” he said, trying to shake off the feeling that Stephen King might be lurking behind a washing machine.

      “Afternoon,” she said back, her voice as stiff as her bouffant hairdo.

      Conner kept right on going. At least one person stood in each doorway. At the diner, there was a record four. A woman and three children. The little boy wore an X-Files T-shirt. That explained it. Maybe he should just forget it. Get in his car and go. No. He needed those antiques.

      He walked faster. It wasn’t until he’d reached the front of the motel that he realized he’d been humming “Strange Days” by the Doors. “Amen, brother,” Conner said as he stepped into the front office.

      GILLIAN BATES put the key in the lock of her classroom as she tried to remember if she’d defrosted the chicken for tonight’s supper. So when she turned and Felicia Goodwin was right there, Gillian gasped.

      “Did you hear?” Felicia asked, not even apologizing for scaring Gillian half to death.

      “Hear what?”

      “That doctor Axel was talking about. He’s here.”

      “What doctor?”

      “You know. The one who’s all hot and bothered about that old medical crap Axel keeps in his store.”

      “Oh, that doctor,” Gillian said, not having a clue what Felicia was going on about. She started down the hallway of the only school in Miller’s Landing. All the kids had gone except for Janice’s music class. Gillian heard the cry of an ill elephant emanating from the cafeteria and knew that Cory Tracy was practicing his tuba.

      “Yes, that doctor,” Felicia said. “Only he’s not what we thought.”

      “No?”

      “No. He’s young. And he’s damn good-looking.”

      “Really?” Gillian knew what was coming. It was as if a single woman—a single mother—was anathema to the whole town. She’d been living in Miller’s Landing for four and a half years, and not a week had gone by when someone didn’t bring up her marital status. She used to get upset about it. Now, she ignored it.

      “I saw him myself,” Felicia went on. “I was just coming out of Lulu’s. She’s got some new dresses in, and some of them are just awful, but I did see one or two that would look good on you.”

      They reached the exit, and Gillian pushed open the door, letting Felicia go out first.

      “He walked right by me.” Felicia reached into the pocket of her denim dress and brought out a crinkled pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

      “Did he?” Gillian asked, trying to sound enthusiastic. Or at least not deathly bored. But her mind wasn’t on the conversation with her neighbor. She was looking for Eli, who had gone to the playground after class to wait for her. She led Felicia, who paused twice while she tried to light her awful cigarette, to the back of the school. As soon as Gillian saw Eli on the swings, she smiled. He was having a grand time, swinging as high as his little legs would push him. The sight of him made everything in her world perfect.

      “He’s a tall young man,” Felicia said. “Well over six feet if you ask me. Taller than Bradley, that’s for sure, and Bradley’s just a hair under six feet himself.”

      Gillian tried not to laugh. Bradley, Felicia’s oldest, was maybe five foot six, at least when he had his boots on.

      “And he’s got dark hair. Nice and thick. I tell you, he’s a looker.”

      “That’s fascinating, Felicia. But I’m sure the nice doctor has a nice wife living in his nice home somewhere far away from here.”

      “Houston. He’s from Houston. And we don’t know if he has a wife or not.”

      “If he’s that good-looking, I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”

      That made Felicia think. She came to a halt, inhaled a lungful of smoke, then let the smoke out slowly, obscuring the puzzled look on her face for a moment.

      “Mom!”

      “Hey, cute stuff!”

      Eli flew off the swing at the very top of the arc, and Gillian’s heart stopped until she saw him land safely.

      “I told you not to do that,” she said.

      “Do what?”

      “Jump off the swing.”

      “Oh, Mom. Everybody does it.”

      “I don’t care about everybody. You do it again, and you don’t get to use the swing.”

      “Okay,” he mumbled. But his torment was short-lived. A second later, he gave her a beguiling smile. “Can we go to McDonald’s for dinner?”

      “No, we cannot. I have a chicken defrosted.”

      He gave her a look she found adorable but one she really shouldn’t encourage. His little face scrunched all up, and one lip curled on the side. She could eat him with a spoon.

      “Afternoon, Eli,” Felicia said.

      “Afternoon, Ms. Felicia.”

      Gillian took Eli’s hand and headed for the parking lot. Felicia followed.

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