The Police Chief's Lady

“In shorts?” Ethan demanded of his mother.

“I didn’t realize he’d gone outside,” she answered without sounding defensive. “Ethan, he’s not made of eggshells.”

“He got hurt, didn’t he?” The chief waved one hand apologetically. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just that when they gave me your message, I thought the injury might be serious.”

“I understand,” she replied.

Jenni asked more questions, establishing that the sidewalk recently had been washed and that Mrs. Forrest hadn’t found any dirt or bike oil in the wound. “It’s not necessarily bad that he was wearing shorts,” she said. “Fabric can harbor bacteria, and if it gets pushed into a cut, it’s bad news. Puncture wounds through sneakers are particularly nasty. You wouldn’t believe what grows in some people’s shoes.” For Nick’s sake, she added, “It makes them stink, too. Peeuw.”

He wrinkled his nose and grinned. The sweetness in his face touched her.

Jenni cleaned the wound again. Normally, the nurse would have done this. However, Jenni saw no reason to interrupt Yvonne’s time with her baby, and besides, she wanted to make it clear she took a personal interest in her patients.

“I can apply an ointment if you like, but frankly, it might delay healing,” she told her audience. “I don’t recommend stitches for a scrape like this, since it’s so shallow.”

“Aren’t you going to cover it?” Ethan inquired.

“I will if he’ll be playing outside again,” Jenni answered. “Otherwise, it’s best to expose it to air.”

“I’ll keep him inside,” Mrs. Forrest said.

“Does it hurt?” Jenni asked Nick.

He straightened like a miniature version of his tough-guy Dad. “I can take it.”

“That bad?” she queried.

“Not really,” the boy admitted. “It used to sting, but it’s okay now.”

“You’re a very brave young man. I think you’re going to be fine.”

“Whoa.” Ethan gave her a disbelieving stare. “What about a prescription?”

She remembered his mother’s statement about Dr. Allen. “Antibiotics aren’t recommended in a case like this. Overuse causes them to lose their effectiveness and there can be side effects. But if he develops any pus or the skin becomes red, warm or swollen, or it starts hurting badly, I’ll be glad to prescribe some.”

“That’s it?” the chief asked. “I could have treated him this well myself!”

“I know you’re used to a different approach with Dr. Luther,” she responded. “Times change and so does medical care. We’ve learned that in minor cases like this, sometimes nature is the best healer.”

“I like you better than Dr. Luther,” Nick announced.

“You do? And I haven’t even offered you a sugar-free lollipop yet!” Jenni joked.

“Why do you like Dr. Vine better?” Ethan regarded his son.

“She talks to me and not just the grown-ups.” To Jenni, Nick said, “Do you have any lemon pops?”

“Let me see.” She searched in a drawer. “Sure thing.” After handing him one, she offered a sampling of flavors to Ethan and his mother.

“I don’t mind if I do.” Annette chose cherry.

Ethan tried to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t. “I haven’t had one of these in years,” he admitted, and selected lime.

Jenni relaxed. Apparently, the chief had decided to bow to her expertise. Considering his obvious worry over his son, that meant a lot. “We’ve got coloring books, too.” She gave Nick one about healthy foods.

“You’re good with children,” Annette commented.

“I love kids.” Jenni enjoyed treating them as part of her practice. She hoped the next doctor to be hired would be an obstetrician rather than a pediatrician, although she did want the kids to get the best possible care.

“According to the grapevine, you’re looking for an apartment,” the woman went on.

“Mom!” Ethan’s voice sank to a growl.

Jenni didn’t know what was going on here. Still, she figured she ought to stay out of it. “I’m sure I’ll find one eventually,” she replied, and turned to the chart. “In case of emergency, I need to be sure we have up-to-date contact information.” The Allens hadn’t double-checked phone numbers and addresses for years, she’d discovered earlier. “Is this correct?” She read off the phone numbers for Ethan and Annette.

Both nodded.

“Is there anyone else?” Jenni didn’t want to be too blunt, but omitting one parent seemed strange. “A child’s whole family is important.”

“There isn’t anyone.” Annette glanced at her grandson. However, he was absorbed in looking through his coloring book. “My husband and daughter-in-law both passed away some time ago.”

“I’m sorry.” So Ethan was a widower. Jenni felt a wave of sympathy for the man and child who’d lost so much.

This didn’t make her like him any better, though. In fact, it made her wary, because with his judgmental nature, he probably compared every woman he met with his deceased spouse.

“Speaking of families, didn’t your parents object to your moving so far away?” Annette asked. “They must worry about you.”

“My parents?” That was almost funny, although Jenni didn’t suppose it would strike anyone else that way. “They’re not the sort of people who worry about others, I’m afraid.”

“You’d be surprised,” the older woman said. “Maybe they’re afraid you’d resent it if they showed how much they cared.”

“If they cared, they could have stuck around when I was a kid.” Hearing her edgy tone, she added, “Sorry. That was inappropriate.”

Ethan looked puzzled. His mother wore a determined expression. “I knew you were the right person to rent the flat over my garage! If you haven’t got a family, you should at least live close to one.”

So that was what the two had been clashing about earlier. Jenni peeked at Ethan, but he was studying his son. “That might be awkward, since your grandson is my patient.”

“Awkward? Having a doctor on the premises would be reassuring,” Annette countered. “Besides, everyone in town is likely to be your patient at one time or another. And it’s furnished, which I believe you need, since you didn’t ship any furniture.”

“How do you know that?” Jenni asked in amazement.

“My mother is friends with Gwen Martin, who owns the café, and half the town shows up there to gab.” Ethan’s gruffness couldn’t disguise his affection. “Between the two of them, they know almost everything that happens around here.”

“That’s a little scary.” Anonymity had become Jenni’s friend over the years. The fewer people who learned about her family, the better, and getting away from vicious rumors had been one of her reasons for moving to Downhome.

“If you’re my renter, I promise we won’t gossip about you,” Mrs. Forrest said. “I only live three blocks from the Lowells, so you can stop by anytime. The house faces Jackson Park.”

Jenni had walked by the park several times and enjoyed the relaxed, old-fashioned setting. The lush greenery, like much of the Tennessee landscape, soothed her after the hard urban surfaces of L.A. “It isn’t the beautiful Victorian with the window boxes, is it?”