“How long between the contractions?”
“Ten minutes apart.”
“There’s no rush. This is completely to be expected. Keep track of the time between labor pains. When it gets to five, call us and bring her in.”
“Okay, Doc. Thanks.”
“And don’t speed. We have plenty of time, Emmett.”
“Got it. Thanks again.”
He clicked off the phone and turned back to Dr. Cottrell. “Amber Stone is having labor pains. I think she’ll deliver sometime tonight or tomorrow. Hayden is recovering from his tonsillectomy. I’m double booked with appointments tomorrow. Would you mind pinch-hitting for me and seeing some of the patients tomorrow? With Amber
being in labor, I sure could use your help.”
“I wish I could, but I’m leaving in an hour for the Denver airport. I’m flying out for a conference in New York this evening.”
“Oh yes. I forgot. You’re the keynote speaker.”
“It’s a free trip, so I just couldn’t turn them down, could I?”
“You’ll be great, I’m sure.”
“If Amber goes into labor, just reschedule all your appointments. I had to many times during my career. Destonians understand. Besides, most will want to be at the clinic for the new arrival anyway.”
“I will. Would you mind looking over some of our patients’ records before you go? I’d like to get your opinion on them.”
“I don’t mind taking a look, Dustin, but they aren’t our patients. They are your patients.” Dr. Cottrell smiled. “I’m retired, don’t you remember?”
“I keep trying to forget. This is still your practice. It always will be. You built it. People around here love you.”
“And they love you, too, son. You’re a wonderful doctor. Better than I ever was.”
“You and I both know that isn’t true.” Dustin closed his eyes. “I’m no good for Paris, Doc.”
“But you are. A father knows.”
He shook his head.
“I wish I could say more, but don’t give up on Paris or Mick and don’t give up on yourself. Until they walk down the aisle together there’s still hope.”
“I’m practicing medicine. I haven’t given up.”
“You know what I mean. I want you to believe in yourself again, Dustin. I want to see the fire for medicine I saw in your eyes when you were just a boy asking me a million questions.”
Dustin remembered the passion he felt in those days. “I’m not a boy any longer, Doc. I’m doing the best that I can.”
“Yes, you are and it’s time for you to agree to my idea.”
“I know where you’re going with this line of talk, but no. I can handle things on my own. I’ll work it out.”
“You’ve been suffering for years now. I’m done asking, young man. You’re going to talk to Sam O’Leary about this. In his profession, he has to keep secrets, too.” Paris’s dad got choked up. “He helped me when I lost my dear wife.”
Dustin recalled Paris’s mother’s death. She’d died from anaphylactic shock back when Paris was sixteen and had just graduated from high school. They’d still been together then, and he and Mick had tried to comfort Paris through the overwhelming loss.
“You can’t blame yourself.” Dustin looked at the man who he’d admired since childhood. “That was different, Doc.”
“Was it, Dustin?”