The Doctor

  The Doctor

  He makes everything better.

  Book 2 of The Settlement

  Elizabeth Fyre

  www.ElizabethFyre.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Fyre

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher. For permissions contact:

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  The Doctor

  “There’d better be a good reason why you missed your appointment, Miss Rossi.”

  I glanced up from the winter canning. Over a vista of overflowing baskets, I could see Dr. Logan Mcintosh standing in the doorway, arms folded, looking askance at me. My insides squeezed when I realized, Oh crap! I had had an appointment set with him at noon, and from the angle of the sunlight through the windows, it was well past.

  Dr. Logan was a more recent member of our settlement, Barton Oakes, and we were very happy to have him. We had a doctor already, Dr. Lucy Chase. Dr. Chase was wonderful; the guts of ten warriors and the bedside manner of an angel in one five-foot-tall redhead. She had been just about run off her feet serving all of our community before Logan arrived, and I’m sure she was especially grateful for his presence.

  One of our reconnaissance parties had found Dr. Logan, hungry, hollow-eyed, and wielding a large pair of hemostats, holed up in an abandoned duck blind on the edge of a farm a few miles away. He had three backpacks full of medicine and equipment that he’d managed to snatch before his clinic was overrun. He’d been traveling on foot over the countryside, suspicious of every group he spied in the distance, as his skills, drugs, and tools made him a very desirable captive.

  He’s definitely desirable, I thought, but now, I was staring.

  In my defense, it was hard not to stare. Dr. Logan made a very nice picture — tall, black, and fit, with his hair in long locks that he kept neatly tied back. When they fell forward to brush his shoulders as he worked, he wore a lion’s mane. He always looked as if he was thinking about something difficult, taking it apart in his mind and putting it back together. I wondered what thoughts now swam over the surface of those deep, dark eyes.

  As if he’d heard me, he glanced around at the produce piled high on every bit of free space before fixing me with a look.

  I wiped my hands on my apron and pushed aside baskets of vegetables to make room for him on the floor next to the rolling chair I used. “Hi, Doctor. Would you believe me if I said it slipped my mind? I was working all morning and kind of zoned out.”

  “Now that I’m here, I definitely get that,” he said, trailing his eyes around the bustling kitchen. Mismatched kettles and pots, overflowing with boiling tomatoes, corn, and beans. People mixing salt and spices for brine. Apples being peeled, to be dried, and to be made into applesauce. Crabapples being simmered with tons of sugar for crabapple jelly. It would be such a treat on bread later when the windows froze and the nights were long. Ranks of transparent glass jars disinfected in more boiling water stood by, waiting to receive our work.

  The doctor smiled faintly, “This is a bit of a war zone, huh?”

  “Yes,” I said in a tragic tone. “We’re being routed by the tomatoes. I don’t know how much longer we can hold out.” I regretted that as soon as I’d said it, but he took no notice.

  As Logan approached, I felt that all-too-familiar ache of desire in my chest for him, but the guilt rose up after it. I brushed it out of my mind and put a hand to my pregnant belly. It didn’t feel right to want another man so soon after Stephan. Even though Stephan abandoned me months ago, I thought as Logan squatted down next to my chair. Stephan may be the biological father of this baby, but that’s not a dad.

  “I just started to feel my little person kicking!” I exclaimed.

  “Excellent!” Logan looked at me warmly, his eyes relaxing a moment as they found mine.

  My whole body surged with desire every time we were in the same room. He’d seen me often as we monitored my pregnancy, and I found myself hoping that he might feel the same way, at least a little. But there was the way he looked at me, and there was the way his body went a bit stiff when I was close to him. And I… I was totally goofy, stumbling over my own words or just sometimes going blank when he asked me something. It was weird, like being an infatuated teenager again.

  The best and worst part was that pregnancy checkups involve a lot of touching. Sometimes, I was almost overcome with the desire to push him to the ground and climb on top of him, right then and there. It was getting harder and harder to ignore those feelings every day. I just didn’t know if it was right to ask him out, or if he would even want to go out with me. What would we do anyway? Run off into the woods and fuck. Go for a walk in the gardens? We couldn’t exactly go to a movie or a game...

  And then there was the issue of the little bun, with four months left to bake in mama’s oven. Would he want me? I was a package deal after all.

  “Ready to go?” He was still looking at me. “I think you’ve done more than enough work today.”

  “Ugh! There’s still so much to do,” I said, unconsciously stroking the curve of my stomach. “And if I sit around while everyone else prepares us for winter, I think I’ll lose my mind.”

  He sighed, gazing at me for a moment before he picked up my hand and squeezed gently. That troubled look was stamped on his face again. I couldn’t help staring at his lips, perfectly set in his rectangular jaw. I could feel the heat rising to my face at his touch.

  “I know, I know. You like keeping busy. But right now, the priority is you and your health.”

  My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn’t help looking away so he wouldn’t notice how flustered he made me. Every time…

  “We have to make sure that everything’s okay in there.” He reached out to grab both of my hands and ran his thumbs over them. That’s a little fresh, I thought.

  “I’m not taking any chances with you or the baby.” Dr. Logan’s face was set and determined.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I smiled and looked at the rows of Mason jars full of tomatoes, as if I hadn’t just been thinking about pushing him to the floor and riding him like a mustang. “Okay, I’m at a good stopping point here,” I conceded.

  He nodded and offered his arm, which I gladly took. As we left, he cast a glance back and laughed as he said, “I feel like we’ll be eating that for the rest of our lives.”

  “Oh, they’ll disappear faster than you expect. When there’s five feet of snow outside, nothing will be better than the applesauce I’ve got simmering. It’ll remind us of summer.”

  “I totally agree with you!” He looked down in fondness, I thought at least, and nudged my side. “How could I not? You are the chef in charge, and if we’re not only eating porridge this winter, I’ll be eternally grateful!” I warmed immediately under that gaze, heat rising again to my cheeks. I could never lie to this man; his eyes seemed to see straight into my soul.

  I nodded, still feeling awkward at how a single look could make every nerve in my body wake up. It was a weightless, giddy feeling, like I’d had too much champagne. None of my limbs seemed to want to come back down to earth. Somehow, we made our way through the kitchen and the attached dining hall.

  It was almost hard to believe how fast our com
munity had come together in less than a year, and how close we’d all grown. Dr. Logan had been there for me during the early days, even before Stephan had left me, newly pregnant, during the worst of the chaos. I hoped beyond all hope that even though he wasn’t the biological father of my baby, that Logan might, just might, one day take me, plus my little one, as his very own. I was sure he would make an incredible father.

  As we walked together, I couldn’t help imagining kissing him, mounting him, and touching him everywhere. He was a half-step ahead of me, and I trailed my eyes over his body, delighting myself by imagining exactly what was under those clothes. Some of it, I didn’t have to imagine. I’d seen him out for his usual run early in the morning, in a pair of salvaged surf shorts and old running shoes. He was slim but finely toned, and a thin mist of sweat made his dark skin glow at the edges.

  “What’re you smiling at now?”

  Caught, I smiled nervously. “Nothing.” I knew that he knew I was bullshitting. But the grin on his face told me that maybe he also knew exactly why I was smiling.

  The clinic was on the opposite side of the little central square of the Barton Oakes settlement. As we made our way across the dirt road, I turned my face towards the sky and took a deep breath of the fresh autumn air. After the steamy kitchen, it was a relief to feel the slight chill of the breeze.

  All around us, the trees were an explosion of brilliant reds, burnt oranges, and bright yellows against the clear blue of the sky. It was a beautiful day, but I couldn’t stop the twinge of worry in the back of my head for the coming winter. We’d been carefully planning for it, and I knew we would have plenty of food. But the logic wasn’t loud enough against the emotion.

  Logan touched the small of my back. “Hey,” he murmured, “It’ll be okay.” I knew he wasn’t referring to the checkup. “You and Tillie have been planning for winter for a long time. You’ve done good work.”

  “Thanks. I still worry though,” I said, reaching up to take down my ponytail and then combing through my long, dark hair with my fingers. I caught Logan looking, but pretended not to.

  I thought about the other question that had been gnawing at my mind. “Has there been any more news about that new camp? The group that set up down the road?”

  Earlier that week, at our community meeting, the biggest piece of news had been that some of our hunters had investigated smoke rising nearby. It turned out to be from a group of people squatting in an abandoned motel. They didn’t seem to be armed, but the hunters were worried that they would soon be discovered by armed gangs and raided for whatever supplies they had. And if our neighbors were discovered, then we would probably be discovered, too. So it made one a little nervous when strangers moved in just down the road.

  We’d heard that the battles near Chicago had only just died down late in the summer, but the picture that we got from the HAM radio operators around the country was sporadic and often lacking in detail. We didn’t know much about the rest of our country that was still engulfed in the revolution that had so thoroughly swept away everything from our past lives.

  Logan shook his head. “I know the hunters and security have been keeping an eye on them for the past week, but as far as I’ve heard, the only thing they’ve been doing is cleaning out the motel, trying to grow something to eat, that sort of thing. Henry said he ran into one of them looking for water in the woods and showed him the river. I know everyone’s worried that they’re guerrillas out of Chicago, but it really seems to me like it’s just another group of scared people looking for shelter. We should be helping them, not spying on them.”

  I stayed quiet as I processed that. As if trying to make sure we’d have enough to eat during winter wasn’t stressful enough, now a group of unknown people had set up shop on our doorstep. Logan was a fervent advocate for reaching out; I preferred exercising more caution.

  The medical clinic shared a building with Sara Watson’s new dental clinic, and she waved at us as we went inside before returning to one of the kids waiting for their checkup. Her gentle voice cut off as Logan shut the door behind us.

  With his help, I maneuvered onto the exam table. When I settled, he smiled. “Alright, let’s check out that baby.”

  Dr. Logan had insisted on regular exams for as long as we’d lived in Barton Oakes. I could have almost asked the questions myself, but I knew that the formality of the procedure gave us both some comfort that everything would be fine. It was as if, if we closely monitored every little thing, there wouldn’t be any complications. As if we could control the future.

  I settled against the plastic of the exam chair then tugged my shirt up a little and moved the front of my skirt down lower as Logan tucked his hands under his arms for a moment, warming them up before laying them on me. His big hands moved over my swollen belly, pressing his fingers down and gently feeling for the top of my uterus to measure how big it was.

  I felt safe here in Barton Oakes, with Logan, in his little clinic. Before the civil war that had brought our country to its knees, it had been a camping resort, which meant it had walls, a little health office, and plenty of places for people to make their new homes. We had hunters and security, crops we had started in the spring, and now a completed greenhouse. Best of all, we were far away from the fighting that still persisted in the larger cities.

  I was scared though about what was going to happen next with my little baby. There were no big hospitals with fancy equipment in case there were any complications. And forget about drugs to ease labor pain. But I had to count my blessings — at least we had two doctors and a midwife.

  Pride flickered across those eyes, as if taking care of me was truly the thing he wanted most. Logan stroked the curve of my belly with such care that I wondered if he had already forgotten what he had been doing. With wonder in his voice, he murmured, “You’re going to have the first baby in our new settlement. Isn't that incredible?”

  I smiled, watching him. “I can’t wait to meet them,” I replied.

  Logan’s gaze shifted, eyes warm. “I can’t either.”

  “Maria,” he uttered softly after a moment, “How are you feeling? Truthful answer, please,” he insisted, as if he knew that I would try to wave it aside as nothing.

  I wavered, and looked down at my belly, unable to meet his gaze. I ran a hand over the bump, imagining the tiny life growing inside of me. “I’m... I’m scared. About having a baby. About not giving birth in a hospital.”

  I really didn’t like being scared. But I couldn’t hide that from Logan and for some reason, I felt better telling him and just getting it off my chest.

  His gaze softened. “That’s completely natural. But don’t worry. There’s me, there’s the midwife. Women have been doing this for millions of years.”

  “I guess I just feel stressed,” I confessed. “That’s why I’m working so much. Keeping busy is the only thing that keeps me sane. And I still feel very bad, being…well, single, and you know…pregnant.”

  Logan had made no secret of what he thought of my ex-boyfriend, who’d abandoned me when we found out I was pregnant, but I still felt ashamed. Doubt still lingered in my head that I had somehow caused all this, even though I knew, logically, that it wasn’t the case.

  “Why? You’ve moved on with your life,” Logan’s voice turned hard, and I didn’t need to look up to know that his expression was the same. “There’s no reason to feel bad. You’re...” He didn’t finish. He looked flustered and maybe a little pissed off at me.

  Logan’s eyes traveled down my body and stopped at my feet. He smiled with a wild look in his eyes. “Your ankles are a little swollen. Want a quick massage?”

  I couldn’t help glancing at the bigger bulge in his pants. I blushed furiously and looked away. “Sure...yes please!” My words came out like a squeak. Was I imagining all of this?

  He nodded. “It’s for your well-being. And…” His gaze deepened and he leaned close. “And that means I might finally get a chance to treat you right.”

&
nbsp; I shivered, heart beating wildly at the implication of his words. Suddenly, he pulled back, stepped away from the table, and turned to rummage through the lower cabinets on the other side of the room. I watched him, still dazed, my entire body crackling with unmet desire.

  He pulled out a basket stuffed to the brim with lumps of oddly-shaped cushions. “Why do you have those?” I asked, genuinely curious as he chose a few.

  “They’re support pads, just in case someone finds lying in a particular position painful during an examination,” he explained. And then, continuing with a note of pride in his voice as he set the last down in my lap, he added, “I made them myself.”

  I rolled the blocky cushion in my hands over. It was covered with a Garfield t-shirt and stuffed firm with batting. He patted the cushion in my lap. “Lie on your side. This one goes under your head.”

  As I moved into position, the fabric of my skirt caught on the exam table and rode up past my knees. He made a small sound of approval at the sight of my legs that sent warmth shooting through my body. One of his hands crept up to my knee and then snuck up even farther to lightly stroke the back of my thigh. I had to fight not to squirm into his hand.

  “Does that feel comfortable?” he asked, arranging the cushions around my body as I lay on my side. I hummed and snuggled into place. He laughed, gently brushing my hair away from my neck. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’ then. Be sure to tell me if any part gets uncomfortable, okay?”

  Lying on my side, I had an excellent view of Logan as he finished with the cushions. I half-closed my eyes so that he wouldn’t see me looking. His clothes were plain, but very clean, and he smelled of soap and Tiger Balm. I could admire him all I wanted from this angle, and admire I did.

  He cleared his throat and said, “Right. You ready?”

  “This is the most excited I’ve been in a long time,” I answered truthfully. My back and shoulders grew tenser every day, and though I could work through the discomfort, it would be really nice to be pampered a little. If “taking it easy” meant getting spoiled like this by Dr. Logan, I was more than happy to oblige. I smiled as he kneaded my shoulders and closed my eyes, letting myself relax, letting myself rest.