Page 114 of The Blessings of Christmas
“So you’re a dumpster diver?” She started writing, her confidence growing when the pen worked.
“Huh?” He glanced around until she motioned to the desk. “Oh, that. This place is put together on a shoe string. You might want to take that down.” He jabbed a finger toward her pad where she’d scrawledDr. Hot Stuff.
Okey doke. She began to take notes.Dumpster diver. But immediately she felt ashamed.Put together on a shoe string.“What do you mean by that?”
His shoulders seemed to grow broader with each shrug. Why did he hide all this hot maleness under that white lab coat? “Look, the town of Amblebury let me have this space. The folks in this area need medical care, even if they can’t pay.”
Victoria tried to get her mind around that. “So you see these patients and give them what...how does the hospital part work?”
“There are limits to what I can do. For the rest, I’m dependent on donations.”
“From who. I mean, from whom?” She kept writing, determined to knock this out of the park.
“From the other docs. I’ve made the rounds, and most have been supportive. So far I have thirty doctors who donate their time, usually in the late afternoon, after their office hours are over. When I’m at the urgent care center.”
Was there a smile anywhere in that comment? She glanced up through her eyelashes. Nope, not a twitch of those full lips.
“So you donate your time too.”
“Of course. But most of our clients have other needs. Like food.” He nodded out the door to the people eating and visiting. “The grocery stores give us bread and eggs, produce...any food that’s out of date.”
“That’s pretty awesome.”
Here he gave her a pleased grin. “Folks have been kind.”
That cute dimple in his right cheek spiraled right into her stomach.
“But we could use some big donors.” The dimple had disappeared. “You’ve stopped writing. You got that part?”
“Yes, sure. “ She kept scribbling. Big bucks needed.Who knew if theGazettewould take this story. But Daddy had strings he could pull. The information was really good. Maybe she’d been hiding under a rock but she had no idea this clinic existed.
The sound of children laughing filtered from the room outside. “And you see children as well as adults?”
“Yep. Everybody.”
She kept writing. “Everyone likes to read about sick kids.”
“What?” He looked horrified. “The illnesses aren’t meant to be entertaining.”
Maybe she should just listen and not talk. “Of course not.”
“Pregnant women come twice a week when an OB/GYN is here.”
She couldn’t write fast enough. But Victoria wanted a different kind of information and here was her opportunity. She crossed her long legs. “And what about you?”
He blinked. “What about me. Sorry, but my back’s killing me.” And with that he swung his long legs up and rested his feet on the edge of his desk. “I think I pulled a muscle yesterday playing basketball with the kids out back.”
“Sounds painful.” Her first response was to offer a massage. Strictly therapeutic. But that would interrupt this whole process and she was on a roll.
And he’d probably say no. There was that too.
Did he play basketball in shorts? Those lean legs suggested muscles. She gulped. “So, are you married. Do you have kids?” Pretty sly how she slipped that in there.
“Nope. No time for that.” He gave a dismissive shake of his head.
Scribbling on her pad, she wroteHallelujah.
Where should she go from here? Hard to pull from that journalism class when she’d missed so many sessions. “What, ah, made you do this? I mean, why are you donating your time and effort?”
