Page 93 of Coming Home

A soft blush kissed his cheeks. “Maybe.”

“If my husband had called me Mrs. Samuels, I may not have divorced him,” LeAnne sassed, turning to Nat. “Let me know about the list. I’m going to go restock the exam rooms before I leave.”

As LeAnne disappeared through the red door, Nat slipped through the half door between the hall and the reception desk. She walked up to her dad, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

Nat’s heart had squeezed for the third time today at Dad’s interaction with LeAnne. It was such a tiny thing, but the big things always were. She’d not asked him to do this. She’d not even complained to him about the staff calling her Nat and him Dr. Owens. It meant that he’d seen it too and fixed it in a very Dad way.

“I know I said it would take time and to be patient. I said that as your colleague. As your father, I lost my patience and did that.” He draped his arm around her. “It’s a bit of a tightrope we walk working together. I’ll try to remember I am your colleague here, but it’s hard when I am your father everywhere else.”

She leaned into him. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, Dr. Owens.”

The happiness in her heart bloomed like a garden of sunflowers in the sunshine of his love and respect. They both may be Dr. Owens, but they were also father and daughter.

Perhaps, that was the most important role of all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“…the love, respect, and confidence of my children was the sweetest reward I could receive for my efforts to be the woman I would have them copy.” ~Louisa May Alcott,Little Women

Nat’s heart raced. It actually fucking raced like a stallion rounding the bend at the Kentucky Derby. The last time her heart had beat like this as she sat at the dining room table of her parents’ house was the morning after she’d lost her virginity. Convinced that somehow the recently-sexed pheromones were detectable, her heart pounded throughout their breakfast that day.

“I do love that I married a man who cooks,” Mom crooned as Dad pushed open the door carrying in a glass bowl of taco-seasoned ground turkey.

Agreed.Nat’s lips tugged up with devilish agreement. Not at her father’s culinary skills, which were impressive, but by the many skills inside and outside of the kitchen held by her boyfriend. The novelty of Noah as her boyfriend had not worn off, nor had the queasiness about sharing their relationship withthe family in two days’ time, but she’d proceed. They were worth it, after all.

Fear had held her back far too long.No more!She would embrace the bravery that had been hidden within her all along.

“Well, I love that I married a woman who enjoys me feeding her.” Dad bent to kiss Mom on the cheek.

I don’t think I’ll ever tire of feeding you.Noah’s words danced in her thoughts as a far too big smile spread on her face. So, it appeared everything was going to make her think of Noah. Even her parents’ unbridled affection for one another.

“Cut it out, you two, or I’ll never give you grandchildren.” Nat wagged a teasing finger.

“Well, at least I have Fitz and Lizzie.” Mom shrugged, unfolding the blue cloth napkin and draping it on her lap.

“Oh, I have a feeling Natalie will give us human grandbabies someday.” Dad winked at Nat as he took his seat.

Nat shot him an “I will kill you, old man!” look. He just unfolded his napkin and laughed silently at her. Thank the goddess, they’d be telling everyone Sunday because Dad was a week away from spilling the tea. In fact, Noah and she may want to walk through the door holding bedazzled signs proclaiming them as a couple, or else Dad would let it slip before the cheese board hit the coffee table.

After they’d served themselves some of Dad’s delicious turkey tacos, black bean salad, and Spanish rice, they did the obligatory small talk chatting about Dad’s latest detective novel, Mom’s planned shopping trip with Maura on Saturday after the clinic closed, and the scrapbook Nat was making for Elle and Clayton to give them at the bridal shower in November.

“So, Natalie, you called this meeting to discuss some clinic business,” Dad said with an encouraging smile.

Nat dabbed the napkin at her mouth and then placed it on her lap. “Yes. As you know over the years, we’ve discussedthe expansion of the clinic to offer mental health services for our patients. With the shortage of licensed mental health providers and resources in the county, most people must drive to Rochester or Buffalo to access resources.”

Mom sighed. “It is so frustrating. We’ve tried to attract a licensed psychologist or social worker to join us, but we haven’t been successful. Even if they live in the area, they can get paid five to ten thousand dollars more a year in the cities.”

Nat turned to Mom. “Yes, but I think if we focused on telehealth services, then we might have a better chance at attracting clinicians who would be open to making less money but having a job that provided them with the flexibility to see patients from home or, frankly, anywhere they can get an internet connection.”

Dad and Mom’s gazes met across the table, indulging in the kind of silent conversations that had annoyed Nat and her brothers. Those eye conversations were usually focused on something Clayton, Evan, or she had done wrong or shaded in a “bless their heart” hue as they passed parental judgment.

“I know Elle suggested Sloan-Whitney.”

Mom’s eyes narrowed. Dad fiddled with his bow tie.

“Which means affiliating with a third party. I agree with both of you that I don’t want to give up control of the clinic. It’s been run by our family for almost a hundred years. I think until there is no longer a Dr. Owens in Perry, it should remain as such. However, I do think there is merit in the idea of telehealth.”

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