Page 118 of Doctorshipped
“You know, it’s probably a secret recipe,” Jayme says.
“Should we try it?” Fiona asks.
“No!” Jayme and I both shout at the same time, which results in more laughter from Jayme.
“No,” I say more calmly. “You have to get busy with your lessons.”
“Yes, let’s get to it,” Jayme says, sparing me from having to reveal that one of Judy’s cousins is probably RIP under this tin foil.
I breathe out a long breath and walk toward the kitchen wondering what I’m going to do with this meal.
Cooter’s words, “The whole town knows,” repeat through my head. That won’t be so bad, will it?
36
GRANT
Have you ever seen a video of a pod of dolphins swarming a school of sardines? Fiona and I are the sardines in this feeding frenzy. Ever since our outing for ice cream, we’ve been scrutinized and overrun any time we leave the house.
As Fiona and I walk down the aisles of the grocery store, all eyes turn toward us. I’ll credit some of the townspeople for their attempt at a form of subtlety. They fail, utterly, but they get points for effort. Others whisper at a volume that carries across the room.
Words like “she caught a good one,” and “will they marry?” and “well, there goes another bachelor off the market,” can be heard past the butcher counter and down the chips aisle. The one that bothers me, but doesn’t seem to phase Fiona in the least is, “new mom.” While the future I’m envisioning involves the three of us, hearing those words for the first time while lifting a can of olives off a shelf doesn’t sit right with me.
Jayme and I haven’t even been on a proper date, unless you count our trip out for ice cream last week. Since then, every patient I see, and every person I run into when I’m out, devolves into blatant staring, not so concealed gossiping or an out-and-out inquisition.
Mabel rounds the corner and nearly bumps into us.
“Oh, well now. Hello, Doctor Grant. Hello, Fiona. How are the two of you doing?”
We tell her we’re fine and I make a move to push on toward the bread aisle so we can exit the store and the eyes and ears of this town as quickly as possible.
“Any news? And what I mean to say is, anything you want to share? Anything interesting going on in your life? Exciting developments?”
Mabel looks so hopeful, her eyebrows raise, her eyes widen. She grips her grocery cart, strategically trapping us by occupying the center of the aisle.
“I got a B on my math test,” Fiona says with a smile.
“Well, now. That’s lovely, dear,” Mabel says.
The dismissive disappointment in her tone isn’t veiled in the least. Mabel’s a woman on a mission, and my daughter’s academic achievements don’t factor into her agenda.
Mabel looks at me with the kind of laser vision elderly women have worked their whole lives to perfect. It’s a penetrating gaze, one that says they’ve got nowhere to be and nothing better to do than to wait until you spill the beans—every last one of those beans, and then they’ll examine the jar to make sure they’re all out in the open.
I sigh. “Well, since you apparently know, Jayme and I have started seeing one another.”
“Oh! Have you? You don’t say! My, my, my. Well, now. That’s news indeed. You and our sweet Jayme. Now, now. That’s something wonderful. I appreciate you confiding in me. I won’t tell a soul, of course. Well, I mean, if the subject happens to come up, I won’t deny the facts. But, of course, your private life will remain between the three of us here. So, tell me, how long have you been seeing one another?”
“Not long.”
“Well, she’s a keeper, she is. And you’re a lucky man.”
“Agreed.”
“And she’s so good with Fiona, isn’t she?”
Fiona smiles. “Miss Jayme’s my tutor. I love her.”
“Isn’t that just wonderful? It’s like a fairy tale, isn’t it now?”
