Chapter Twenty Seven

W hat Cordelia couldn’t quite get her head around was that every single time she looked at Lydia she started to smile. It just wasn’t like her. Not in the slightest.

Yet every look, every glance, every touch made her filled to the brim with happiness. It was a most disconcerting feeling and so utterly unlike her that she was actually relieved when she couldn’t find the surgery keys. At least she hadn’t changed that much.

“You didn’t bring them?” she asked Lydia.

“Nope. I thought you did. Plus, I did tell you that you really should hang them by the front door so that you see them as you’re leaving.” Lydia pulled two keys from her bag. “I’ve got this.”

“That’s your office and the side door,” said Cordelia. “Which gets us into the building, but we need to be able to open the front door or else people won’t get in.” She sighed. “I’ll run home and get them.”

“No, I’ll run back,” Lydia said. “You stay here and open things up and answer the telephone.” Just as she’d started to speak, the phone had begun to ring outside. “And I’m faster than you anyway. ”

She was right, but Cordelia still felt bad.

“It’s fine, you can reward me,” Lydia said, a twinkle in her dark eyes. “Later, that is.”

Cordelia’s heart skipped a beat and then Lydia was leaving and Cordelia was walking around to the side door. The telephone inside stopped ringing. Still, they’d call back if it was important. They always did.

It was strange, being happy. Lighter. Friendlier. Not that she thought everything was going to be perfect from here on out. But still, there was a sense of… rightness about things. A rightness that she couldn’t remember feeling with Hunter.

Maybe she’d been wrong all along, maybe she and Hunter had never had what she’d thought they had. Or maybe this was just different because Lydia was a woman. It was hard to tell.

She went into the empty surgery, dust motes floating in the air. She’d barely put her bag down when the phone started to ring again.

“Whitebridge surgery,” she said automatically as she picked it up.

“Ah, Cordelia. I was hoping to get you before the crowds descended,” drawled a very familiar voice.

Cordelia sat down. “Doctor.”

“Well, technically, yes. They haven’t revoked my medical license as of yet, so I suppose you can still call me that. Still, it seems odd, does it not? To call me doctor when I’m not actually… doctoring.”

“Right,” Cordelia said faintly. “I mean, I suppose… No, I’ve known you as doctor since I was a child, can’t change that now.”

Doc Morris chuckled on the other end of the phone. “I should have rung before. I know that. Not sure why I didn’t, other than that I was embarrassed. Shouldn’t have been, of course. It’s an illness like any other. As a doctor I should know that. Still, we’re not always good at taking our own advice, are we? I suppose you’ve heard.”

“Heard?” Cordelia said. “Heard what?”

He chuckled again. “Well, well, well, who’d have thought that young Max Browning could keep a secret?” There was the rustle of someone settling themselves on a chair. “No point in keeping it from you. Not now. He found me on the front lawn. Drunk as a skunk, as they say. No trousers on. Not my finest moment. Fine young man that he is, he got me inside and gave me an ultimatum. Recognize the problem and do something about it and the case would go no further.”

“I, uh, I know about the drinking,” Cordelia said, feeling herself blush. “Bottles in the desk drawer.”

“Always been a drinker,” said Morris. “Not anymore, I suppose. But always was.” He coughed. “Which brings me to why I’m calling. I’ve got another few weeks to do down here, rehab, that is. And when I’m done, I’m thinking about going to my sister’s in Devon. It’s nice down there. Quiet. A good place to retire to, I think.”

Cordelia took a breath. “Right.”

“I won’t be coming back, Cordelia. I wanted to be the one to tell you. I’m too old to start again, too old to re-learn how to do the things I’ve forgotten. And too old to want to.”

“Right,” Cordelia said again. This could all still work out, she was thinking. If Lydia wanted to stay, she could stay. It would be easier.

“And I wanted to thank you,” Morris was saying. “For all you’ve done. For putting up with a grumpy old man. I’ll of course write you any references that you need. The new doctor would be lucky to have a receptionist like you.”

“Thank you,” Cordelia said.

They chatted for a few more minutes before Cordelia put the phone down and sat in silence, looking around the surgery. Deep down she knew that this wasn’t Lydia’s plan. She also knew that it was what she wanted for Lydia. She wanted them to be together, to work together. They’d fallen into a rhythm.

She took a breath. Alright. She wouldn’t force the issue. But she would mention it, they would talk about the pros and cons of it. If Lydia decided that she really didn’t want to work in Whitebridge, it was fine. But maybe now it was real she’d change her mind. There was always that possibility.

Cordelia was humming as she set out the magazines on the waiting room table.

???

Lydia was half-hurrying back to the surgery. She wasn’t exactly late and the sun was nice on her skin, but she was hoping to steal a kiss from Cordelia on her way in, so she wanted to beat the patients.

“Morning,” Max called as she walked past the police station. He was sweeping the step.

“Morning, Max. No Nat news?”

“Not yet,” he said, still smiling cheerfully.

“Fingers crossed then,” said Lydia. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

He looked up at the sky. “Beautiful, but not likely to stay that way, I’m afraid. There’s rain forecast for tonight, and then it’s going to pour down for the next few days.”

“Oh well, can’t say we haven’t had a nice summer, I suppose. It’s been wonderful so far.”

“Just make sure your car windows are all rolled up,” laughed Max as she waved him goodbye.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she walked away. She pulled it out, fully expecting it to be Cordelia wanting to know where she was.

“Hello? Is that Lydia Carlisle?”

“Speaking,” she said, coming to a stop. The voice was familiar but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.

“This is Doctor Ford. You interviewed with us a few weeks ago up in Waymouth?”

Ah, right, gray suit, had liked her recommendations and qualifications. “Yes,” she said cautiously, because she had no idea why he might be calling her.

“The thing is, well, I’ll be blunt with you. The doctor we ended up hiring has reached the end of his probation period and we’ve all decided it best to part ways.”

“Ah,” said Lydia, continuing to walk now because she didn’t want to be late.

“Unfortunate, rare, but it does happen,” said Ford. “And, well, you were obviously very much in the running for the position and… Well, and we all wondered whether you’d be willing to consider coming to work with us after all?”

Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. Her heart started to race and her mouth went dry. This was it. This was the job she’d really wanted, the one she’d dreamed of, the one she’d seen herself doing from the very beginning.

She turned the corner and saw the Whitebridge surgery and her heart slowed the tiniest bit. She took a breath. “That’s very kind.”

“We understand, of course, that other options may have appeared in the meantime,” Ford was saying.

Lydia swallowed, thinking. She wanted this so bad she could taste it. But she also had ties here now, there was no denying that. She rubbed her nose. She had to talk to Cordelia. That was the only solution.

Besides, it was a good thing to take time to consider the options, wasn’t it?

“I’m flattered by the offer,” she began carefully. “Would you mind if I took a little time to think it over?”

“Of course, of course,” Ford said, sounding sort of relieved. “Shall we say, the end of the week? I’ll expect to hear from you by then.”

“Right,” Lydia said faintly. “Thank you.”

She hung up the phone and looked toward the surgery, keys jangling in her hand. Waymouth was what she wanted, she reminded herself. It had everything. The practice was top of the line, the mix of patients was interesting, the doctors were well-trained and she could learn from them, there were plenty of options for additional training and promotions.

This had always been her dream.

A weight descended into her stomach .

But there was this now. Whitebridge and Cordelia and the practice over in Castor and… And it was all a compromise, but wasn’t that what life was about? Compromising?

She walked toward the surgery fully intending to tell Cordelia everything. But as soon as she walked in, Cordelia stopped her.

“Sylv is in your office,” she said. “She was feeling dizzy and she’s worried, so I put her straight through.”

“Right,” Lydia said. Work came first.

Cordelia brushed a kiss onto her cheek. “Have a good day,” she whispered, and Lydia’s skin prickled with wanting.

IT WAS LUNCHTIME before Lydia got a chance to say anything. A host of patients had been through. Nothing serious, which was fortunate, because Lydia knew that she was distracted. Even Sylv had been suffering nothing worse than dehydration, common in patients that had mobility problems and who wanted to avoid too many toilet visits.

But Lydia didn’t hold back.

The second that the last patient had walked out of the waiting room and all was quiet, she told Cordelia that they needed to talk about something.

“We do,” Cordelia said. “I had a phone call this morning.”

“So did I,” said Lydia. And before Cordelia could stop her, she spilled her news. Not making any effort to hide anything.

Cordelia’s face stilled and she looked like she might be holding her breath. But she didn’t hesitate in the slightest. “You have to take the job,” she said.

Lydia collapsed into one of the plastic waiting room chairs.