The Baby Doctors

“How long have you been there?”Matthew asked.

“Long enough for you to finish the article about how Compassionate Systems will transform the delivery of medical care to the peninsula…and to scan the society column where you’d hoped to find at least your name, if not a picture of you hobnobbing with the Port Hamilton elite at the Elk’s Club ball.”

He laughed. “I’m so damn disappointed. I thought reindeer antlers glued to my scrub cap would guarantee a spot on the front page. What the hell do I have to do?”

“Dunno.” Sarah was laughing, too. “Be more elk-like.”

They sat there for a minute or so just grinning at each other until Sarah broke off a piece of his tortilla and scooped up some rice. “I’ve been thinking. It’s not every day I apologise, but I’m about to do it, so don’t make it more difficult. The words are practically choking me already.”

“On the other hand, it could be the tortilla.”

“I did kind of get on my soapbox, and I’m –” she swallowed “ –sor-sorry.”

“I heard it.” He glanced around the cafeteria. “Where’s the media when you need them?”

She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “OK, so now’s where you tell me you’ve thought things over and you’re ready to join forces with me.”

Dear Reader,

How many of us still remember our first “love”? Was it the freckled boy who teased you unmercifully in primary school? A high-school crush? The guy you met in college? Chances are that even if you remember exactly who he was, he was not the man you eventually married. People change, and the special someone who made your heart race in your teens probably wouldn’t even raise a flutter today. On the other hand, maybe he would. Sarah, the heroine of The Baby Doctors, never forgot her first love, Matthew. Marriages to other people and years apart never quite succeeded in dimming her love.

I hope you enjoy The Baby Doctors, and I would love to hear your stories of that guy you never quite forgot. Drop me a line at Janice Macdonald, PMB 101, 136 E 8th Street, Port Angeles, WA, 98362, USA or e-mail me at janicemacdonald.com. You might also check out my new website, travelingromancewriter.com, for details on my books and chronicles from recent travels.

Best wishes,

Janice Macdonald

JANICE MACDONALD

To Barbara and Lee for their inspiration, and to the Fishers for their hospitality and turkey burgers!

CHAPTER ONE

THE GUY SELLING medicinal herbs at the Port Hamilton farmer’s market had shoulder-length hair, a small stud in his nostril and the palest blue eyes Sarah had ever seen. The lack of color disconcerted her. Something about the way the light hit them made it difficult to tell whether he was looking directly at her or at something over her shoulder.

His T-shirt read Stop The War On Drugs, but when he noticed her trying to read the small print, he stopped in the middle of a discourse on the health-giving properties of the dandelions leaves he was holding to launch into another on the kind of drugs he was trying to stop.

“Big Brother pharmaceutical companies,” he said, his English accent becoming more pronounced as he spoke. “If you’re popping pills you’ve bought from the drugstore, you’re not really in touch with nature, and my goal, simply put, is to reconnect people’s consciousness with the environment.” He waved his hand at the row of baskets brimming with plants. “Nature’s pharmacy,” he said. “Echinacea, Saint-John’s-wort, calendula. Atropa belladonna—”

“Commonly known as deadly nightshade,” Sarah said.

He smiled. “Ah, a gardening enthusiast.”

“A medical doctor, actually,” Sarah’s mother, Rose, said, materializing at Sarah’s side. “She’s been practicing in Central America for the past fifteen years. And, let me tell you, she knows a thing or two about woo-woo medicine.”

Sarah shot Rose a glance. “A focus on prevention and well-being rather than disease is not woo-woo medicine.” She turned back to the guy, whose spare, almost emaciated frame suggested nature’s pharmacy probably did double duty as his pantry. “My mother’s a doctor, too.” She jerked her head at Rose. “Runs in the family. Except my mother’s the conventional kind.”

“I’d hardly say that,” Rose replied.

“I was referring to your profession. She’s a dermatologist,” Sarah said, mostly to mollify Rose, who disliked being thought of as conventional in any way, except perhaps in her approach to medicine.

“Right.” He stuck out his hand and directed his pale eyes at Sarah. “Curt Hudelson.”

“Sarah Benedict.” She shook his hand. “And my mother, Rose Benedict. I’m really interested in what you’re doing. It ties in with the sort of thing I’m planning, an integrated approach that combines both conventional and alternative medicine.”

He nodded approvingly. “Right, well, we definitely need more of your type here on the peninsula before big medicine kills everyone off.” As he talked, a young woman who had been waiting on customers came over to stand beside him and he put his arm around her shoulders. “My girlfriend, Debbi. We farm a piece of land on the west end. These two ladies are doctors,” he said. “Tell them how we cleared up your asthma with natural stuff.”