Page 4 of Unlikely to Stay
Brant heard footsteps running down the hall and sighed.Patty was trying to come to his rescue.“Dr.Billings, everything okay in here?”
Patty Jefferson, the clinic receptionist, had been working the front desk of the clinic when Brant was hired two years ago.She was Dr.Harvey’s—the physician whose place Brant took—niece and sweet as she could be.Unfortunately, she also thought she was his personal savior.And, if he were being honest, might have alittlecrush on him.A cougar crush, in fact, since she was twenty-five years his senior.
“What in tarnation is going on here, Marty Samson?Are you givin’ Dr.Billings trouble?Don’t make me get my uncle down here to give you a stern talkin’ to,” she said in her thick Oklahoma drawl.
Brant refrained from rolling his eyes.That was always the threat.Tattling to Dr.Harvey, the eighty-two-year-old physician who should’ve retired ten years sooner than he did.By the time Brant came along, Henry’s cataracts were so bad Brant was surprised he could evenseehis patients, much less treat them.
“He ain’t no doctor.He’s just a glorified nurse,” Marty grumped.“I just see a bunch of letters after his name on that sign outside.I don’t see no D-R in front of it.”
Another eye roll refrain.Because he wasn’t a doctor, some of the people in town, the majority of whom thought Dr.Harvey could practice until he was on his death bed, thought Brant wasn’t certified to do anything.It didn’t matter to them that he had to have two years’ nursing experience, three years to earn his master’s degree, and half a year to get proper accreditation.He could write prescriptions and even perform minor surgeries.To the people of town, however, he was just a glorified babysitter.
The more degrees and certifications he got, the more his student loan amounts grew.When his mentor told him about the program that forgave student loans if new nurses and doctors practiced for three years in a rural atmosphere, Brant had jumped at the chance.Times like these, he wondered if it was worth it.
“Now, you know Brant is basically a doctor,” Patty admonished.“He can write prescriptions and even perform minor surgeries right here in this clinic.Show me another nurse who can do that.”
At least Patty had his back.
“Were you the one who stitched up Cal Foster’s finger when he chopped it off cutting wood for his fence?”Marty asked, giving him the eye.
Like there was any other person in town who could do it.“I am.”
“What about that dislocated shoulder Burt had from getting freaky with Kelda?”
Brant shuddered.He had to hear all about Burt’s sexual conquests with his lady friend when he fixed said shoulder.“All me.”
“And June Adams’s donkey, Rambo?Did you stitch him up cuz that fancy vet out at Sophie’s Haven is on vacation?”
How did he evenknowabout that?Brant had stitched up the donkey’s leg at eight a.m.He knew word traveled fast in a small town…he just didn’t think it traveledthatfast.
Brant raised his hand.“Guilty.”
“See there?”Patty said.“Totally qualified to clean this little…” The color drained from her face as she looked at the abscess on Marty’s ass still oozing pus.“This little boil on your booty.”
“Abscess,” Brant whispered.“It’s an abscess.”
“Like I said,” Patty gulped.“Teeny little abscess.”
Marty harrumphed.“I guess you can fix me up then, doc.”
“It’s an honor,” Brant muttered under his breath.“Totally what I went to nursing school to do.”
“What’s that you said?”Marty asked.
“I said I totally learned how to do this in nursing school.I’m an abscess expert.”
As quickly as he could, Brant drained the remaining pus, doctored the wound, covered it with gauze, and wrote Marty a prescription for an antibiotic just in case some infection lingered.
Marty pulled up his pants and held out his hand.“You know, you ain’t so bad, Nurse Billings.”
Brant sighed.At least it was a small improvement.“Thank you, Mr.Samson.”
When Marty walked out the door, Brant let out another breath.The weekend couldn’t come soon enough.