CHAPTER TWELVE

Mason

Ally asked to join me on my house calls today. No, she insisted, following me out to my car and buzzing around me despite her injured ankle, blocking me from getting into the truck until she wore me down.

"You should stay back and ice that ankle of yours." I attempt to turn her around by her shoulder and send her back to the clinic, but she evades my grip.

"Oh, this old thing?" She pulls up the pant leg of her scrubs, revealing an ankle brace that appears a little too effective. "Found it in the back closet in the clinic. Winnie showed me where it was. It works like a charm." Winnie. I'll have to talk with Winnie about letting Ally snoop around the clinic later.

For someone who is a bit of a doormat, Ally is getting a little too comfortable standing up to me. As annoying as the little Honeybee is, I have to admit that this new side of her is refreshing. It's more respectable than the version of Ally that slumped over in defeat before an argument even began.

I don't regret bringing Ally along. The warmth I feel towards her after last night has a hold on me. I don't even know why I stayed. She just seemed a bit … flat. I searched her eyes for that mischievous sparkle and came up short. I'm sure Nate showing up in town was the primary cause of that, but I can't help but worry that I may have also contributed. My cold, standoffish attitude to her at work wouldn't have helped.

Ally had transformed from this effervescent and hopeful woman to dejected and disheartened in a matter of a week since she's been here. As much as I didn't care to hang out with Ally, I also didn't want to leave her alone. That and I had no interest in going back to Winnies to be ridiculed by my brothers.

So I stayed. And Ally opened up like a flower blooming before me.

There's a new lightness in my chest today, a spring in my step that I haven't had in the entire year since my dad passed away. The only thing that's threatening to ruin my mood is the memory of Nate showing up unannounced. That smarmy asshole makes my skin crawl. I hadn't felt invested in helping Ally, but when Nate showed up, I fully committed to being her dream guy. I will be the best goddamn boyfriend Ally's ever had if it means Nate buggers off. He's so smug and arrogant, and I want him gone for my sake more than hers.

However agreeable I am this morning to her tagging along, apprehension washes over me as she sits beside me on the passenger side of my truck. I shift the gear stick into park on Mrs. Rose's driveway and look at Ally across the bench seat. House calls are important to me. Few doctors even do house calls now; they've long since switched to in-clinic visits only. But my father believed in meeting patients where they are, and I am determined to keep the parts of his practice that he valued.

I reserve house calls for elderly folks or people with mobility problems who have a hard time getting down to the clinic. And now Priya and her baby, whom Ally made the executive decision to include on our list today. My gut turns over on itself. Bringing Ally along with me today is nerve-racking. It's a privilege to be invited into someone's home. For many of my patients, they're vulnerable and protective about who they let in. Ally is still a stranger to Heartwood, not to mention I still don't trust that she's as invested in the clinic as she says she is. There's nothing to prove that this isn't just part of some publicity stunt.

"It might be best if you wait here for the first one," I suggest, but the look on Ally's face says loud and clear that she doesn't agree. Mrs. Rose is always friendly, and if anything, I'm certain that Ally will be well-received at this visit, but something in me still doesn't want Ally to be a part of this. Call me territorial, but I treat these house calls with great importance.

"You're joking, right?" Ally scoffs. "I didn't come out with you today to sit in the car, Mason. How am I supposed to see what you do if I don't come in?"

"You can imagine it when I tell you about it later."

"Here I thought we might be getting along. Dr. Dickbag is right," Ally mutters.

I purse my lips. Dr. Dickbag is the nickname Jett gave me when I got back from medical school. I should set them up. Ally wouldn't need me as her fake boyfriend anymore. She'd have a real one that is more on her immature level.

I don't care to be known as Dr. Dickbag, though, so I give in with a groan.

"Just let me do the talking, okay?" Ally is already getting out of the truck and on her way up to the house before I have time to give her any further instructions. I have to jog to catch up with her. I'm already getting annoyed by her enthusiasm.

Alma Rose's house is on a peaceful street a few minutes outside of town. She has a sprawling yard of coiffed grass, now turned a golden brown by the summer sun. Her garden is still bursting with colour, and I marvel for a second at her ability to maintain all of her flowers in her ripe old age.

Ally strides across the front porch and swings open the old wooden screen to knock on the door. A child shrieks from inside the house as Mrs. Rose opens the door, and a little face framed by fair curls peers out from behind her legs.

"Hi, Mason." I like that my patients call me by my first name; Dr. Landry was my father. "Don't mind my granddaughter, Annabelle. I'm babysitting her while my daughter goes to get my groceries. She's in town for the week. I see you brought a friend today." Alma smiles at Ally, and Ally extends her hand.

"Ally Wells, ma'am. I don't believe we've met. I'm the new nurse in the clinic."

Alma raises her eyebrows towards me.

"I'm glad you've opened up to some help around that place."

"I wouldn't go that far, Mrs. Rose." Ally chuckles. "He's not open to anything." The two women titter in unison like a couple of goddamned schoolgirls. Ally has known this woman for all of two minutes, and somehow, they've ganged up on me already. Ally has a way of doing that, pulling people into her orbit. I clear my throat.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?"

Alma gestures for us to come in, Annabelle running circles around Ally and me as we make our way into the kitchen. Alma sits down on a kitchen chair, and I pull the other chair out, positioning it across from her to examine the arm that she had fallen on. She isn't wearing her sling, but she's still favouring it, and I noticed how her hand trembles every time she lifts it.

"Alma, I understand it's difficult for you to go into the city, but I'd like to get you into a physiotherapist to see about this hand tremor. Your arm is quite weak from being in the sling for so long. I'm also worried there may be some lasting nerve damage from the fracture you had," I explain, gently moving her arm in various directions and studying Alma's expression for signs of discomfort. Ally is watching me and listening intently. Having her attention on me is oddly satisfying. I'm at a loss for what to make of it.

I finish up with Alma and write down the information for the physiotherapist in the next town over, promising to put in an urgent referral. I explain to her that there might be an opening while her daughter is in town, and perhaps she could take her.

A little hand tugs on the corner of my shirt. I turn and look down beside me at Annabelle. She has to be only three years old, and she smiles up at me, holding out a small plastic stethoscope. Her giggle is contagious as I lean down to let her listen to my heart and I find myself quickly being ushered over to the living room, her tiny hand dragging me by one finger. I'm aware of Ally's eyes on me, and it's a sensation I don't dislike.

Alma is already asking Ally a barrage of questions about how she ended up in Heartwood, how she is enjoying the town, and how she's getting on at the clinic. I'm relieved that Ally is getting on so well with her and that she's fitting in here. It bodes well for the clinic if Ally stays, since she might just be the key to securing more funding.

I crouch down on the floor next to Annabelle as she shrieks and dumps her doctor's kit all over the floor. I don't know what comes over me at that moment. Maybe it's the remnants of the playful mood I've been in since the morning, but I jump into the game of make-believe and play my part. Thanks to Ally, I've become adept at acting these days. House calls are a get in and get out type of deal, but today, I feel some of my tension loosen as Annabelle picks up the small toy blood pressure cuff and wraps it around my wrist, the only place it will fit.

Ally's gaze remains on my back as she answers all of Alma's questions, avoiding any of the questions that delve into her life in the city. I turn to look at her over my shoulder. There's a warmth in her stare as she offers me a coy smile, and I return it with one of my own. Annabelle was busy inflating the blood pressure cuff, using both hands to squeeze the bulb, and I let out an exaggerated "Ow!" She giggles, covering her mouth with her hand in a cartoonish way.

"Annabelle." She looks up at me with her big brown eyes, and my heart melts. "One day you could be a doctor, too. Or better yet, you could be a super smart nurse like Ally." The smile that spreads across Annabelle's face is my sweet demise as my insides turn to goo. I don't look over to see Ally, because I have a sneaking suspicion that the smile on her face would do me in for good.

"Is Ah-wee your wife?" Annabelle peers up at me, an innocent enough question, but I just about choke when she asks it. Ah-wee is far from my wife, but not as far as I would like. I hear Ah-wee— Ally— clear her throat behind us.

"We should get moving if we want to see our last patient of the day," Ally says, standing up from the chair and straightening out the scrubs she is wearing. I have long since given up the scrubs, opting for a pair of jeans and a flannel most days. No one in Heartwood cares much as long as I do the job well.

I pry myself away from my game with Annabelle, where she insists on taking my temperature multiple times "just to be sure."

Alma and Annabelle wave us off as we walked back to my truck.

"She was sure smitten with you," Ally says, climbing into the passenger seat and giving me a playful grin.

"Oh, older ladies can be positively feral around me." I wink, and Ally gives me a shove on my shoulder.

"Shut up. I was talking about Annabelle."

My phone rings from inside the cup holder breaking the playful energy that is pulsing between Ally and me. As the screen lights up, I can see that the call is from a strange number, not one that I have in my contacts. A feeling in my gut tells me I already know what the call will be about.

"Hold on a sec." I hold a finger up to Ally as I answer and get out of the truck. I won't have this conversation in front of her. It's bad enough that she knows I'm struggling to keep up with the patient load; I don't want her worrying that her job was on the line as well. Not when I'm hell-bent on making sure that this doesn't go any further anyhow.

Fuck, since when did I start caring about Ally Wells?

I hit the green button and answer the call I've been dreading since receiving the letter from the health ministry last week.

"Dr. Landry, my name's Simone Mitchell. I'm calling on behalf of the Ministry of Health. I'm sure you've been expecting my call," the woman says on the other end of the line.

"Dr. Landry was my father, you can call me Mason," I correct her, but I don't want to let on that I have, in fact, been expecting her call. I won't admit that it's all I've thought about all week. A ball of anxiety forms in my gut.

"Sure, Mason. I'm calling to discuss the future of the Heartwood Medical Centre. As you're aware, the ministry has funded it for the last few decades since your father opened it and applied." I am well aware. I let her continue.

"We've recently undergone some budget cuts, and that has meant evaluating our health services and doing some restructuring."

"By restructuring, you mean closing down the clinic." There's a beat of silence on the other end as Simone considers her next words.

"Nothing is set in stone yet. But we are looking into clinics that might be absorbed by larger health centres. Rural communities, like Heartwood, may be better served if patients travelled to a neighbouring town with more resources and relied on patient transport for emergencies."

"The nearest town is over an hour's drive." I can't believe what I'm hearing. Just the other day, Ally suggested a mother keep her jaundiced baby at home because she could not drive and had no one to take her. How are people like her supposed to manage? Or Alma? Heartwood Medical Centre is integral to the town.

"I understand, Mason. Nothing has been finalized at this time, so I would like to notify you that you have until the end of the month to show that Heartwood Medical Centre is necessary to the town and that it can meet the growing needs of the population. If you can improve services within your existing budget, we will consider keeping the clinic open and funded."

I end my conversation with Simone. She had offered me a chance, albeit a very slim one. I'm already struggling to see all of my patients, even with Ally here. How can I expect to overhaul the clinic and make it more efficient with just myself, Winnie, Ally, and the already mediocre budget I have?

Ally studies my expression as I climb back into the truck. I don't need Ally worrying, and I don't want to talk about how I'm failing at keeping my father's clinic open and running. I don't want to talk about anything.

"You're so serious all of a sudden." Ally points out, which does nothing to put me in a better mood. "Are you okay?"

"It's about nothing that concerns you, Honeybee," I grumble, turning over the key in the ignition. For the rest of the drive, we sit in silence. Ally gazes out the window at the passing trees. It kills me to keep this from her. We've been making some progress in the friendship department, and I feel like I just set us back further than where we started.

We still have two more house calls to get through this afternoon, including a visit to Priya and the baby to finish the day. I'm already preparing myself for the way Ally is going to shove it in my face that she was right about keeping Priya at home. She'll have some annoying little way of saying ‘I told you so' and it won't do anything to help the foul mood I'm in.

By the time we get back to the clinic, Winnie has closed up. House call days are days that she can go home a little early, as long as she's finished filing the charts and prepping for the next day's appointments.

Ally walks around the reception desk and collects her things when I make my way out to the front, preparing to lock up behind her.

"So, how did you enjoy the house calls? Was it everything you ever dreamed of?" I'm teasing her, hoping that it lightens up the mood after I was the ultimate wet blanket on our otherwise decent day together.

"Actually, yeah. I think it's cool that you have such a close relationship with your patients." She's nonchalant in a disconnected way that I don't like. Ally throws her bag over her shoulder and follows me to the door.

"They only like me because I'm a Landry. They have high expectations of me, don't get me wrong."

"I don't think that's true. They seem to trust you." Ally turns to face me. God, she's pretty, even after a long day of work. Her hair falls out of the messy bun on her head in soft tendrils, and I'm tempted to tuck it behind her ear.

"I was thrilled to see Priya and the baby today. I'm so glad she's doing so much better."

"So am I." I glance down at my shoes and clear my throat, preparing myself for what I'm about to say next. It doesn't come easy. "You made the right call keeping them at home. It's easy to overthink things, and I forget that there are a lot of conditions that can just be monitored." As I look back up at Ally, she's beaming, her face lighting up at the small bit of recognition I just gave her. I wonder how often anyone has told her that her opinions are smart, that she has valuable ideas. Nate's tally would most likely be a whopping zero.

"By the way, I've been thinking a lot about Priya." Here it comes. It wasn't enough that I admitted she was right.

"I know, I know. You told me so. Don't go rubbing it in."

"You must have some low opinion of me to think I would shove that back in your face, Mason. All I care about is Priya's well-being. And the baby's." Ally turns again and continues walking out the door and into the parking lot. "Whatever."

My truck is parked outside, so I follow her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to assume." That's it, smooth things over. You need Ally, you idiot.

"I just wonder if the new moms in town, or even moms-to-be, need some sort of prenatal or postnatal education sessions. Even just a social session, here at the clinic."

I consider her words. There isn't enough room in the budget for the clinic as it's operating now, let alone to introduce another program. Although, the timing is kind of perfect considering my phone call earlier. The program might offer a solution to a lot of my problems.

"I'm listening," is all I say, hoping that Ally has more of a concrete plan in that beautiful head of hers.

"You spend an awful lot of time doing education with people like Priya. If she had known before she had the baby that jaundice might be an issue, and what to look out for, she might not have needed to come into the clinic at all." Ally makes a valid point. "You said yourself that there are a lot of new families moving into town. A program like this might help to offload some of the unnecessary appointments and walk-in visits."

"There isn't a lot of money in the budget for something like this. We would have to organize it all and advertise it. It would be a lot to take on right now." I watch as Ally's face falls, and I hate myself for making it that way. "I'll think about it. And if you can come up with a way of getting some money together for it, I might just agree to it."

Her mouth quirks up in some sort of determined grin. I can't be sure what Ally has up her sleeve, but I'm beginning to see that I might just be a fool if I don't trust this woman.