Luke(3)

She located her newspaper, which hadn't made it to the stoop, but had instead landed in the small patch of wet grass. Picking it up with two fingers, the soggy, chewed mess fell apart like confetti. With a sigh, she looked up into the face of her neighbor's eighty-pound Doberman. "Again, Tootsie?"

Tootsie lifted his chin and gave her a doggie smile before trotting off.

"That's what you get for living at your work." This from Shelby Anderson, her co-naturopathic practitioner at Healing Waters, and Faith's best friend. She came up the walkway and followed Faith into the back door of the clinic, looking more like an actress in her flowered scrubs than the real thing.

Faith knew Shelby couldn't help the fact that her blond hair was always just right, and that she needed hardly any makeup to glow, or that her long, willowy body was the only one on the planet that scrubs actually looked good on, but it was still a little irksome, especially so early in the morning.

"I live above my work, not at my work," Faith corrected, tugging at her scrubs, which most definitely were not nearly as flattering on her as they were on Shelby.

"Above work, at work, same thing," Shelby said. "Both suck."

Faith looked down at her chewed newspaper. "Okay, sometimes, yes."

Shelby set down her purse and leaned against the counter, sipping at the herbal tea she'd brought. "Would you like some? You look beat already."

"Gee, and I thought I'd used my makeup concealer correctly."

Shelby smiled. "You don't wear any makeup, much less concealer, so stop it. Just remember, every time you let yourself run down, you get the flu."

Complete with exhaustion, sweaty shakes and a killer headache. She'd been plagued by a pesky tropical virus for years, more so lately, since she'd opened the clinic, but she didn't intend to let it get her again.

She'd caught the virus in Bora-Bora years ago while there as a child with her missionary parents, and ever since she'd been susceptible to it. She'd been extra careful, getting rest, eating right—not difficult since she loved food—and for the most part ate extremely healthy. If one didn't count her secret and shameful chocolate addiction.

Oh, wait, she'd given up chocolate. Really. And not because her mother had a tendency to be chunky and Faith was afraid of getting the same way, but because she wanted to practice what she preached. She wanted to live a healthy life.

Her body just didn't always agree with her. "I'm fine," she told Shelby.

"Why don't you do an herbal treatment today? Or better yet, let me do it for you?"

"Maybe." She needed to get the clinic back on track first. It shouldn't take too much. For the most part, the clinic itself was successful. People loved the services they offered. The problem was that most insurance plans didn't cover those services, so she was forced to charge far less than she should. As a result, she was understaffed, and didn't have the budget to hire more people.

The good news … Dr. Walker's services were going to be free. For three months.

"Do you really think Dr. Walker is going to help us?"

"Yes, and before you ask … he's late. I know."

Shelby looked at her watch again. "Twenty bucks says he's not going to show."

He'd better—the hospital had promised he'd be here with bells on, and a smile to boot, doing his best to give support and reverse any publicity damage he'd caused.

Faith was counting on it. Dr. Luke Walker was extremely well respected in the community. People listened to him. With any luck, he'd be far kinder to the clinic once he'd seen them in action, and he'd spread the word. "He'll show."

"Okay, but only a few minutes until patients arrive, and if he's not here…"

"I know, I know." Back-Up City, with patients grumbling, complaining, leaving … something she couldn't let happen.

Still, they waited fruitlessly for him for thirty minutes, and when they were indeed backing up, getting behind schedule, Shelby and Faith again met in the hallway with twin worried expressions.

"It is his usual day off," Faith said. "Maybe he's sleeping in by accident."

"Then we're screwed."

"No we're not." Nothing if not determined, she grabbed her keys. "Tell me we have his address."

"It's on your desk." Shelby smiled. "Going to haul him out of bed?"

"If need be. I know we're already so backed up, but if I get another practitioner in the house, it'll be worth me leaving for a little while." Faith chewed her lip. "Better wish me luck."

"Oh yeah, I'll wish you luck. You're going to need it."

*

Faith stood outside Dr. Luke Walker's house on the coast and knocked again. When no one answered, she checked the address against the piece of paper she held. It had to be right. The house was a block-and-glass palace fit for a prestigious doctor, as was the forest-green Jaguar in the driveway.

She glanced at her late-eighties Ford Escort and sighed. She wasn't a confrontational person by nature despite her innate stubbornness and her fondness for being right. Truth was, in a fight she figured she'd roll over like a puppy and show her belly. But with her clinic's destiny at stake, she felt like a protective momma bear.