Deep in the Valley by Robyn Carr Read Free Book Online Page B

goodness you have your clothes on,” she said.
    “I’m going to kill my father.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous, he’s finally got a story. He hasn’t had a good one in weeks.”
    “It’s not so much fun when the joke’s on you.”
    “Didn’t you tell anyone?”
    “No,” June lied. It was as safe a lie as she could ever tell because Tom Toopeek would have his tongue cut out before he’d pass along gossip. “I wouldn’t have told Elmer, but in the shock of the moment I was caught off guard. The old blabbermouth.”
    “It must have been quite a sight.”
    “Oh, I’m sure.”
    “Well, don’t fret on it, dear. Come in. Amelia has made potato soup and I want to try a new book idea out on you.”
    Aha, June thought. That explained these frequent calls lately. Myrna had been building up to a new book.
    “In this one,” she said, “I think I’ll focus mainly on dismemberment.”

Five
    D r. John Stone was almost painfully handsome. He was six feet tall, had a thick crop of Robert Redford blond hair, clear blue eyes, a solid physique and a kick-ass smile. In addition to that, his attire of thin wool pants, Armani shirt, Versace tie and Italian loafers was worth more than June’s May wardrobe. A smile came to her lips as she wondered how he would be regarded if he had to make a run out to a logging site.
    They sat in her clinic office. She, behind the desk. The Boss.
    “Why Grace Valley?” she asked.
    “Peace and quiet for my family. Safety, wholesomeness, beauty. Just the air up here is going to make a difference. My six-year-old daughter—she’s a little wheezy. Might be pre-asthmatic.”
    “Well, it’s peaceful and quiet for some of the community, but it can get a little hectic for the doctor. Why, just this morning—” June stopped herself suddenly. If she was going to get miffed at Elmer for spreading tales, she’d have to keep her own mouth shut.
    “I heard you were surprised by a family from back in the mountains. They let themselves into your house? At the crack of dawn? And you were in your…what was it? Your underwear or something?”
    Her mouth hung open in wonder.
    “I had lunch at the café before coming over.” He shrugged. “I hope I didn’t offend….”
    She shook it off. “It was a towel, actually.”
    “Oh brother,” he said, self-consciously trying to cover his twitching mouth with a hand. “I mean…”
    “That’s a good place to start this discussion. Country doctoring is crazy sometimes. Rough and inconvenient and unpredictable. If they don’t come to your house and catch you getting out of the shower, they’ll flag you down at a crossroads and ask you to look at a swollen ankle, or catch you in the bakery and ask if their rash looks like it’s getting better. That doesn’t even touch the accidents—falls, fishhooks, large animal mishaps, car wrecks and shootings.”
    “Shootings?”
    “Not what you’re used to, I’m sure. Ninety-five percent of the residents here have guns. Plural. They hunt, seasonal or not, shoot trespassers, euthanize animals and have accidents. It can make an ER residency in Oakland look tame.”
    He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “What do you do when you’re overwhelmed? It’s just you, isn’t it?”
    “Most of the time. My dad is a physician. He practiced out of the house I grew up in. He’s been retired about two years now, but he’s still in here every week. Sometimes he’s invited, sometimes he just shows up and sometimes I have to call begging. And there areother doctors around. Northern California is peppered with hundreds of little towns, and we have to help each other when there’s need.
    “But how can I make you understand, Dr. Stone, that much of what I do for this town, much of what I consider my obligation, isn’t solely medical. I have a pantry full of food staples and a closet full of clean clothes. I keep an impressive supply of pharmaceuticals on hand, and a lot of that I pay for myself when I can’t