Page 36 of The Choices I've Made
My firm tone obviously struck a chord as her once-rigid posture faded, and she leaned back into the seat cushions.
“Fine,” she relented, her arms still firmly across her chest.
I could see she wanted to say more, as if the words were hanging on the tip of her tongue. But she obviously reconsidered, turning her head from my heated stare.
“I’ll go get the car,” I mumbled, hating this situation more and more.
Why had I decided this was a good idea?
Oh, right. The bourbon.
But even I knew that was a lie. I’d made the choice to come here long before I spent the night with a bottle of whiskey. If faced with the same decision, I’d make it again.
Because this was home as much as the faded blue house.
The only difference?
One wasn’t filled with the haunting memories of a life long gone.
Or was it?
I hadn’t planned on walking through the familiar doors of the clinic until Monday. Taking advantage of the Closed sign on the front door, I’d hoped to slowly ease into this brief chapter of my life.
With care.
And a whole bunch of brooding during the days leading up to it.
Instead, I had a hobbling woman clinging to my shoulder while simultaneously grumbling under her breath about how this was all my fault, and if I’d just stayed away, she could be pruning her rose bushes at this very moment.
“I thought you hated gardening,” I said as I rummaged for the key that had been sent to me by my father’s lawyer. Although there hadn’t been an official reading of the will, I understood the gist of it.
All of this was mine now.
The building, the equipment…
The burden.
All mine. For the time being at least.
“I do,” she finally answered.
I shifted around, trying not to let go of her while I unlocked the small medical office. “Then, why do you do it? Couldn’t you just pawn it off on someone else? Like a landscaper?”
“Couldn’t you just pawn off your consultations? To a nurse? Or an underling doctor?”
I shrugged. “Touché.”
“Not all of us can be heart surgeons, but it doesn’t mean what I do isn’t important.”
I froze, turning toward her. “I never said it wasn’t,” I said. “I think what you do is very important. I always have.”
Her gaze shifted. “Oh,” she answered sheepishly. “Good.”
“How’d you know what I did?” I asked, feeling a smile tug at the corner of my mouth at the mere thought that she’d been keeping tabs on me all these years.
“Your dad,” she replied. “He never gave up hope that you’d return. He never stopped being proud.”
I twisted back around, forcing the door open, as I cleared my throat. “Well, it looks like he got his wish,” I said under my breath.
