Page 3 of Memories of You

I trotted down the steps and back out the door, a routine so familiar I didn’t need to think about it. With every step toward Orchid, where my day would truly begin, the weight of responsibility grew heavier. But it was no match for the fluttering hope in my chest. The hope for reconciled brothers, for laughter around the dinner table, for days when the worst we had to worry about was who ate the last slice of key lime pie.

Romance? I scoffed as I reached for an apron hanging by the door and smiled at the happy chatter of my fellow workers.

The only fire I’ll be kindling is under the stove.

And after tying the strings behind my back and stepping into the familiar embrace of Orchid’s kitchen, I was ready to turn the page to the next chapter of my life.

Chapter Two

Aiden

The sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, but I enjoyed its sharpness. Besides, I wanted my patients to understand I took cleanliness seriously. I tapped away at my laptop, inputting notes into the electronic charting system that was fully modern despite the quaintness of my small-town practice. Then I looked up to meet the steely hazel eyes across from me.

I tried to mask my trepidation with a confident smile. “Ralph, I appreciate you coming in today. I know it’s not the most fun thing in the world.”

Ralph Porter sat on the exam table, his bare legs dangling over the side like a boy’s, though his frame was anything but boyish. His ruddy cheeks ballooned out, partly from years of indulgence and partly from the exertion of climbing onto the table.

“Sure, Doc,” Ralph grumbled, eyes narrowed under bushy gray brows. “Or maybe that’s too informal for you? Son, I helped you adjust your jock strap, and now you want to tell me I’m fat?” His voice held a gruff edge, a defensive tone that hinted at the complexity of reversing roles from coach to patient. And from hometown boy to physician. It was a tone I’d come to recognize over the past month.

“Things have changed since high school.” I maintained eye contact even as the irony of the situation gnawed at me. “We’re here to talk about your health now, not football stats.”

“Damn straight things have changed,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest.

I suppressed a sigh, the weight of his skepticism an almost physical thing. Ralph’s sentiment was common around Dove Key, where familiarity bred a strange blend of fondness and resistance to change. And me—well, I was the boy who had left town, then come back years later a doctor. Some folks found it hard to reconcile the two.

As I set the laptop aside, I moved my rolling stool closer to Ralph, hoping proximity would bridge the gap between past and present. “I know it’s weird, seeing me in this role, but I promise you, I take your health seriously.”

“Serious as a heart attack, huh?” He tried to laugh, but it came out strained.

“Let’s aim to avoid those,” I quipped, though my stomach knotted at the mention. Heart attacks were no joke, not here in my exam room, not with the memories of failure shadowing my every decision.

“All right, then,” Ralph conceded, a flicker of trust passing through his eyes. “What’s the verdict?”

I picked up my laptop again, running through the data we’d collected. “Your blood pressure is still elevated, even after Dr. Nelson increased your amlodipine dose. I gather you’d prefer not to add another medication.” I glanced up to catch his firm, exaggerated nod. “Well, let’s start by talking about your diet…”

The conversation unfolded, my rhythms of medical advice interspersed with Ralph’s objections, then reluctant acceptance. As he lumbered off the table, I allowed myself a hint of victory.

“Thanks… Dr. Mitchell,” he said, patting my shoulder on his way out. “I guess I can lay off the beers and burgers at Conch Republic Brewpub a little. Maybe you’ve got some sense after all.”

“Take care, Coach,” I called after him, the title slipping out with an ease that surprised me. Maybe some things never changed, even if we did.

After Ralph left, the quiet hum of the clinic settled back around me. Drawn by the irresistible scent of coffee, I decided to take fifteen and headed for the staff break room. Susan, one of my receptionists with a penchant for floral muumuus, was sorting patient pamphlets on the countertop as I poured a cup.

“Hey, Dr. Aiden,” she greeted without looking up, her tone casual but friendly. “How are you settling in?”

I leaned against the counter, watching her with a small smile. “Well, I can’t complain about the commute anymore.” The cheery light-green cottage that housed my clinic was only blocks from where I lived. “Every day’s a new adventure. But it feels right, you know? Though Dr. Nelson left some big shoes to fill.”

“Big flip-flops, more like.” As Maria, a medical assistant, walked in, her dark curls bounced with each step. “The man never wore real shoes unless he had to.”

Their laughter was easy and warm, reminding me that despite the occasional old-timer like Ralph who struggled to see me as a doctor rather than the kid who once mowed their lawns, I was welcomed here.

“Speaking of big shoes,” Susan said, turning toward me. “You’ve been doing an amazing job. I hear nothing but praise from patients.”

At least what happened between my patients and I stayed in the exam room. “Thanks, Susan. I’m trying.” I accepted the compliment, a result of trying to find my medical path. A path that had unexpectedly led me back here.

“More than trying,” Maria chimed in, nudging me playfully. “You’ve won over several hard-liners in less than a month. And installed a much better coffee machine. We’re glad to have you here. And who else would put up with our terrible jokes?”

I laughed. “I guess I’d miss the terrible jokes too.”

---