Page 92 of Coming Home

Sally’s face lit like a lamp as she reached for the stethoscope. “Oh! Mommy says Grandma has an extra big heart.”

“Those are the rarest of hearts, so it’s good we’re practicing on her.” Nat winked.

“Mommy said you have a big heart too! Can I practice on you too?”

“Of course.” That extra big heart squeezed tighter with joy.

After Sally and Mrs. Greene left, Nat stood behind the reception desk, reviewing her orders for the day on her tablet. Once signed, they went directly into the patient’s chart and automatically to the nurse to call in any prescription, lab tests, or consultation orders. With Elle’s guidance, and Nat’s pushing, they’d implemented the automated system in July. It streamlined things for both the staff and patients.

“Oh, Dr. Owens, there you are,” LeAnne said, walking past Nat.

Nat looked up seeing her dad leaning on the front of the reception counter, face wrinkled as he looked at his tablet. LeAnne shuffled up to the counter, plopping a clipboard in front of him. The medical assistant had worked at the clinic since before Nat was born. Despite most of the staff loving the tablet, LeAnne had clung to her clipboard. She would use the tablet and the computer, but after writing everything by hand first. Nat had even seen LeAnne write text messages on Post Its and then type them into her phone.

“What can I do for you, LeAnne?” Dad said, lifting his head to face her.

LeAnne yanked a pen from behind her ear and used it to point to the sheet of paper on the clipboard. “I’m getting the list of supplies for our upcoming flu vaccine campaign. I wanted you to go over it before I gave it to Mrs. Owens to order.”

Dad’s brows knitted as he glanced at the list. “Did you have Dr. Owens look at this?” he asked, head cocked to the right.

LeAnne rubbed the back of her gray-dusted black hair. “You’re Dr. Owens.”

He stretched out a long arm pointing at Nat. “The other Dr. Owens. She’s overseeing our Flu Vaccine campaign this year.”

With an embarrassed chuckle, LeAnne pivoted to face Nat. “Sorry, Nat! I forgot you were running it this year.”

“It’s okay, LeAnne,” she assured, moving to the counter to take the clipboard.

“Nat, let me know if this is good, and I’ll have Mrs. Owens put in the order.”

Nat reviewed the list.

“LeAnne.” Dad cleared his throat. “How come you call me Dr. Owens and call her Nat? We’re both Dr. Owens.”

Nat’s head jerked at the firmness in Dad’s voice. Not since she was seventeen and Dad caught her sneaking in thirty minutes after curfew had she heard that sternness in his tone. Dad’s voice always dripped with soft-spoken sweetness.

“But she’s always been Nat.” LeAnne tilted her head, her face scrunched.

“True, but that was when she was our daughter. She’s now our colleague. I’d like it if you’d call her Dr. Owens, or if you’d like to keep calling her Nat, then please call me Chris.” Warmth radiated in his eyes.

“Of course…” LeAnne paused, looking between Nat and him. “…Chris.” A hesitant smile bloomed. “I like calling her Nat, so I think I’d like to call you Chris. Makes me feel like we’re all on equal footing.”

“Thank you, LeAnne.” He grinned, adjusting his yellow bow tie dotted with mini blue bow ties.

“Although, Chris…” She placed her hands on her ample hips. “…I have to say, Nat and you aren’t equals.” An emboldened sassiness seemed to have taken over her.

“Excuse me?” His lips pursed.

“She’s awaybetter dresser than you.” She pointed to Nat’s shoes. “To quote my grandson, those shoes are on fleek, queen!”

Nat snorted and then curtsied.

Dad’s brow wrinkled. “I like my bow ties, and so does Mrs. Owens. She says they’re dapper.”

“It’s not the 1930s…you want to be on point or hot, not dapper,” LeAnne teased, waggling her eyebrows. “Speaking of Mrs. Owens, should I call her Heidi?”

He gnawed on the corner of his lip. “Probably best we all still call her Mrs. Owens. We all may be equal, but let us not forget who the boss is.”

LeAnne playfully wagged her finger at him. “I bet you call her Mrs. Owens even at home, don’t you?”

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