Page 5 of Tension with the Mountain Man
The question seems to surprise her. "Honestly? I thought it would be simple. Family medicine, regular hours, maybe time to actually have a life outside the hospital." She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Turns out small-town medicine is just as demanding as big-city trauma surgery, just with fewer resources."
"You miss the city?"
"Sometimes." She stirs her soup absently. "I miss the challenge, the complexity. Here, it's the same injuries over and over—logging accidents, farm mishaps, the occasional tourist who didn't respect the mountains."
Her words sting, but I push past it. "Sounds like you think we're all idiots."
Her cheeks flush deeper. "That's not what I meant."
"It's okay," I say, though her assumption bothers me more than it should. "I get it. We probably seem pretty simple from your perspective."
"That's not..." She stops, seeming to wrestle with herself. "I'm sorry. That was unfair. I know you take safety seriously. It's just frustrating when people take unnecessary risks."
"Like the idiots who get hurt in preventable accidents?"
"I didn't say idiots."
"But you thought it."
She meets my gaze directly this time, and I see something shift in her expression. "Yes. Sometimes I do. And that makes me a terrible person, doesn't it?"
Her honesty surprises me. "No, it makes you human. We all make assumptions."
"What assumptions do you make about me?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibility. I could give her the safe answer, something polite and meaningless. Instead, I decide on honesty.
"I think you're brilliant and dedicated and probably the best doctor this town has ever had," I say quietly. "I think you work too hard and don't give yourself enough credit. And I think you're running from something, though I don't know what."
Her breath catches slightly. "That's quite an assessment from someone who's known me for three days."
"Sometimes outsiders see things more clearly."
She looks away, back to her forgotten soup. "Maybe they do."
We're interrupted by her phone buzzing. She glances at it and sighs.
"Emergency?"
"It's my job." She pauses, looking down at me. "Thank you for the company, Tucker. It was... nice."
"Anytime, Dr. Sally."
Sally Jacobson is definitely running from something. The question is whether she'll ever stop running long enough to figure out what she's running toward.
And whether I'll be brave enough to be there when she does.
More importantly, whether I can convince her that what she's looking for might be right here in Silver Ridge. With me.
three
Sally
Ican'tstopthinkingabout lunch with Tucker yesterday.
The way he looked at me, like he could see straight through every defense I've carefully constructed.
I’m running. From expectations, from the pressure to constantly prove myself, from the fear that maybe I'm not as good as everyone thinks I am. Vancouver General offered me a position in their Emergency Department, and instead of being thrilled, I'm terrified. What if I can't handle the pace? What if I'm just a small-town doctor who got lucky with early residency completion?
