Page 22 of Tumbleweed Temptation
Feet away from his apartment.
He ran behind because Sofia took about fifteen minutes to get settled, even though he told her she just needed to verify the patient’s identification and contact information, and Melissa could do the billing when she came back. Not that he didn't trust Sofia, but he had the whole confidentiality thing to worry about, too. So he literally put her to work with a pen and a notebook.
“There has to be an easier way,” Sofia said when the last patient had left and Austin walked out of the exam rooms after completing his notes.
He looked over her shoulder at the filled notebook page. “I feel bad for Melissa, having to input all that stuff tomorrow, in addition to tomorrow’s work.”
Sofia sat back in the rolling chair, tapping her pencil on the edge of the desk in a staccato rhythm. “Ah, I hate to tell you but she called. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to come tomorrow either. One of her little ones is also throwing up now.”
He sagged against the edge of the desk, his mind racing for solutions. “Well hell. Maybe I should make a house call and see if there’s something I can do.”
“I think that might be a good idea, because I could maybe help you tomorrow but not after that.”
“Yeah, I completely understand. You’re already doing me an enormous favor.” He leaned over her to type something on the computer so Melissa’s address came up. “I’m going to head over there. I’ll give you a call if she will be coming in tomorrow, but maybe plan right now that she won’t be.”
Sofia nodded and stood slowly. “I’m just going to clean up the waiting room, then I’ll head out. Don't have your feelings hurt if I tell you I hope I won’t see you tomorrow.”
“Nope. Hope I don't see you tomorrow either,” he said with a sideways grin. He pulled the key out of the top desk drawer and went to his sample cabinet. “Her kids are pretty little, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, the oldest is like six or something.”
“I don't have anything for them,” he said with a sigh as he perused the very small selection, closing and locking the cabinet before tossing the key back in the drawer. “You think she’ll get mad if I go over? If I just check on the kids? You think she’ll think I’m checking up on her?”
“I mean, I don't know her that well, but you are a doctor and her kids are sick. So...maybe?”
He grunted. “I’m going to go see her. Can you go ahead and lock up the office when you leave?”
“Sure.”
“And you can be here by eight tomorrow morning?”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you know the last time I had to be anywhere at eight?”
“Yeah, I know it’s crazy, but this is the schedule I set up with Melissa, because it works best with her kids, so she can get out of here by five.”
She held up a hand. “I don't need to hear. Just go. I’ve got this.”
He decided to stop by the grocery store on the way, just to see what they had on hand that he could offer the kids to help them feel better.
Mrs. Lopez, the owner of the grocery store, confronted him when he walked in. “I’m about to close.”
“Yeah, I figured, but I need to see what you have to help kids with upset stomachs.”
She grunted. “There seems to be some of that going on. I have the pink stuff. At least, I think I still do.”
“Going around?” That was the first he’d heard of any other kids being afflicted.
“Are you the one sending people over here for that weird medicine with the ‘y’ in it? I don't have that.”
“Yeah, I’ve been sending them for that,” he said, walking down the aisle with the medicines. “You might want to start carrying antibacterial soap, too, especially if we have a stomach virus going around.” There wasn’t a lot of choice of medicine for kids. Anti-nausea, antidiarrheal, all too strong for a six year old. He grabbed the second-to-last bottle of the pink stuff. Maybe he’d have to go to San Angelo. Crap, over an hour away.
He’d take this to Melissa, assess the kids, then see what he could do about going to San Angelo, maybe to a pharmacy there.
He hated that he had to pay the bill with a credit card, but he hadn’t been paid yet. Mrs. Lopez’s mouth was in a grim line as she took the credit card.
“I don't like to run charges less than ten dollars.”
“I don't have any cash,” he said.
