Healing Touch

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009 Jenna Anderson

All rights reserved

Cover art: Jeff Okerstrom

Special thanks to my family and friends

for their support of my writing
endeavors.

Thank you also to Joan, Mat, Cassie,
Susan,
Melissa, and Roni for your advice and feedback. You guys are the
best!

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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you share it with.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s
imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be
made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

What readers are saying about Healing
Touch:

“…I was drawn right in on the first page and
didn't stop reading until it was done.”

“…a feel-good romance.”

“…engaging and thoroughly enjoyable.”

Part I

The magazine I held took the full brunt of my
anger. Images of happy housewives, mascara ads, and easy eggplant
recipes streaked past my vision. Pages snapped, crackled, and
ripped under my fingers. I couldn’t believe Dr. Nelson talked me
into coming back to the clinic. My pathetic behavior resembled a
lovesick teenage girl’s. Hearing his sexy voice may have helped
convince me to come in, but it would never persuade me into doing
another medical test. A biopsy was out of the question. I asked
myself for the tenth time in the last two minutes, “Why am I
here?”

My hands continued to flip through the two
year old magazine. I paused briefly at an article showing the top
fall fashions for toddlers. The cheapest item was a $35 pair of
khakis modeled by a two year old boy.

I snorted with disgust. “Yeah right. Cody
would have those ripped to shreds and covered in grass or blood
stains in less than two hours.”

“Did you say something, Tracy?” asked a voice
to my right. Mrs. Busybody. Her name was actually Mrs. Larson but
anyone who has been the subject of her gossiping refers to her as
Mrs. B. Many “B” words fit the abbreviation.

She sat too close to me, probably trying to
peek into my purse for something private or embarrassing. Aside
from the six disgustingly ugly blue chairs and a couple of old end
tables, we were alone in the clinic’s small waiting room. Mrs.
Larson had heard exactly what I said, but I wouldn’t give her the
satisfaction and repeat myself. I just smiled at her and returned
to my magazine.

A word to the wise, never ever open up a
conversation with Mrs. Larson if you don’t have a preplanned escape
route. It’s best to say ‘Hi’ out your car window at a red traffic
light or just before the elevator door closes on her face. Not that
my tiny town had a stoplight or an elevator. The two story court
house didn’t even have one. I wasn’t sure how they got around the
ADA laws. I guess anyone in a wheelchair had to face the legal
system on ground level.

I glanced at the clock above the
receptionist. Dr. Nelson was behind schedule. Fifteen minutes of my
lunch break was already gone. He better hurry up, call me in, tell
me whatever crazy crap he planned to today because I needed to get
back to work. A one hour lunch break shouldn’t stretch into two. If
I stayed out too long, I’d have to stay later this afternoon to
make up the time. If I did that I’d be late picking up Cody from
daycare.

These thoughts made me quite disgusted. I
groaned loudly as I tossed the magazine onto the end table.

“So, tell me dear, why are you here today?”
Mrs. Larson had such a sweet, innocent voice. Victims of her
scandalous talk lay scattered throughout the community, dazed,
confused, not knowing what hit them.

An evil thought entered my mind. “Didn’t you
hear? There is a highly contagious virus spreading throughout
Iowa.”

“No, really?” She looked both intrigued and a
little frightened.

“Yes. I’m serious. I’ve been feeling a bit
freakish lately, so I’m here to get myself checked. They say the
first sign of the virus is hearing loss.” I exhaled a hot breath in
her direction which caused her to back up. Mrs. Larson was a big
believer of THEY. Whatever THEY say must be gospel.

“I haven’t heard anything about this. Why
wasn’t it in the papers? Sam should run a story.”

“What? I’m sorry I didn’t catch what you
said. Anyway, people end up going completely deaf. Then, you’ll
never guess what happens after that?”

A voice called from behind the reception
desk. “Tracy, what are you telling Mrs. Larson?”

The gossip queen couldn’t resist this juicy
news. She leaned in and risked touching my arm. “What happens
next?”

I conjured up a short bout of violent
coughing and grabbed both of her hands in my newly moistened
grip.

“Tracy…” The receptionist’s disapproving tone
indicated she saw through my weak performance. She sounded angry,
but the twinkle in her eyes told a different story.

“Well,” I continued, “they say that people
who have a full blown case of Kerbunktavitous end up completely
losing their voice. The victim’s vocals cords dry up and become as
useless as crusty old night crawlers.” I cleared my throat and shot
a look at Connie behind the desk. Words croaked from my lungs.
“It’s awful. I hope you don’t catch it, Mrs. L.”

The old biddy dropped my grasp and leaned
away from me. “I most certainly hope you don’t have it. Why are you
out and about? Why isn’t Dr. Nelson making house calls? Connie, I
need to talk to Dr. Nelson right now. This can’t continue.”

“Oh, this virus is so contagious that just
sitting in the same room with someone will spread it.” I gave her a
sympathetic look. “Too bad too ‘cuz I’m pretty sure I’m sick. You
know who I caught it from don’t you?”

She couldn’t resist the dangling carrot of
gossip and drew closer to me.

The words crackled out of my mouth. “Your
son.”

“You did not! He’s a married man. Why would
he be in the same room as you? I mean, not to say you two did
anything inappropriate but…”

I sighed and shook my head in a sad motion.
“I hate to break the news to you. This virus will spread through
your family and turn everyone deaf and mute by Sunday.”

Connie had her head down on the reception
desk. The sound of stifled giggles floated through the waiting
room.

I popped out of my worn blue chair with a
sudden burst of health. “Well, I’d love stay and wait forever for
Dr. Doogie Howser but I have a job. Connie, let him know that if he
wants to talk to me he can schedule an appointment with my
secretary.” I gathered up my bag and headed to the exit.

Connie shot me a snotty look. “You work at
Madder’s Truck Repair. You don’t have a secretary. Actually, aren’t
you the secretary, billing person, or whatever the guys call
it?”

Mrs. Larson launched a lecture in my
direction. I didn’t have to look at her to know her index finger
was wagging for emphasis. “Tracy Campbell, you should be ashamed of
yourself. Dr. Nelson may be young but he’s an asset to this
community. Don’t you mouth off and scare him away. You hold your
tongue, missy.” Visions of third grade popped into my head.

“Gee, this is fun. Can we do it again soon?
Bye everyone.” I shot them a departing dirty look and turned to
leave the stuffy waiting room. My departing move wasn’t quick
enough to avoid the call from a nurse.

“Tracy Campbell.”

“Fucking hell,” I mumbled.

“Tracy!” Mrs. Larson didn’t miss a beat. It
was almost as if she’d expected the vulgarity and had the reproach
waiting on the tip of her tongue.

The nurse smiled at me from behind my file. A
large purple star adorned one of the corners of the manila folder.
It was probably secret code for ‘pain in the ass’ or ‘make sure she
pays up front.’

I gave the woman in white a smile and a big
hug. It wasn’t her fault that Dr. Nelson called me in for the
fourth visit in less than two weeks. “Hi Maggie. How’s Grace?”

“She’s great Tracy. We need to get the kids
together again for a play date. Cody and Gracie had so much fun
last time. I can’t believe how much energy three-year-olds
have!”

“Tell me about it. Thank God Cody sleeps
well. I don’t know what I’d do if he didn’t pass out the minute his
head hit the pillow.”

Maggie Johannes was a great person. Our
toddlers loved each other. We joked that they would end up as high
school sweethearts. If we both stayed in Cherryville, the two of
them would graduate from the one and only high school in town. The
same school Maggie and I graduated from. Difference was, I attended
my twentieth high school reunion last year and Maggie just went to
her tenth.

Thinking about my twenty year reunion brought
on a pang of anger and sadness. Mark, my husband of five years,
decided to tell me during the banquet that he was leaving me.
Coward. He knew I’d have a hard time controlling my emotions. I
probably would have killed him if he’d told me while we were alone.
So I sat there during dinner, fighting the urge to pry his head off
with my fork and butter knife. Trying not to cry. The best thing I
did was turn and tell him to get out of the reception hall, out of
our house, and out of my life by the time I got home. That was a
year ago. The asshole hadn’t been back since and the divorce was
almost wrapped up. It took a little longer than normal due to lack
of finances, not cooperation.

I hoped Maggie never had to go through what I
went through. I hoped also that Grace enjoyed a long life with her
dad by her side. Cody wouldn’t have that chance. Last I heard, Mark
put in for a job in South Carolina. He lived on a truck driver’s
paycheck and couldn’t afford a pot to piss in. I knew the
father/son get-togethers would be rare.

Maggie had an ideal family. “How are Joe and
baby Frank? I can’t wait to see them again.”

“Oh, they’re great, Tracy. Thank you so much
for helping me put the crib back together.”

We laughed at the comment since we
unsuccessfully tried for two hours to reassemble the piece of
furniture. Joe finally finished the task when he got off his shift
at the factory.

“I’m not sure I helped with anything besides
finishing off a bottle of wine you had in your fridge.”

“Someone had to drink it.” She passed a
handful of examination rooms and turned the corner which led us
into another hallway. “Tracy, that mural you painted on Frank’s
wall is absolutely amazing. You should really do that for a
living.”

I tried to imagine making money off of
painting elephants and tigers. “Thanks but I think working at the
shop is more secure.”

“Don’t forget, I’m still planning to watch
Cody the night of your class. I’m so proud of you for agreeing to
teach a session on painting.”

The class would consist of locals who were
looking for an excuse to get out of the house for an evening. A
small handful of regulars usually made up the roster of
students.

I became puzzled at our long trip through the
clinic. “Where are we going? I thought Dr. Nelson wanted to see me
again.”

“Oh, he does. He conducts some of his
consultations in the office.”

My sarcasm returned. “Fabulous.”

Without knocking, Maggie swept us into the
small office. Aside from an old desk heaped with papers, two dingy
office chairs, and a bright bank of windows draped in hideous lace
curtains, we were alone. The good doctor wasn’t home. The nurse
quickly tossed my file on the cluttered desk and made for the
door.

“Wait. Where’s Doogie? I really don’t have
that much time and if he is going to be a while−”

“He stepped out for a second and should be
right back. Have a seat.” She smiled at me, gave me a quick parting
hug, and pulled the door shut only to reopen it a half second
later. “No snooping, Tracy!”

“Wha? Me? I will sit here like an angel.”

Maggie knew I was lying. I heard her laugh
all the way down the hall.

I shouted after her, “Tell the doc he better
hurry up! If he’s not here in two minutes I’m leaving!” In less
than one minute I had my face buried in a thick file taken from his
desk.

“Well I’m here so you won’t need to break out
the timer,” said a voice coming through the door.

I stood and tried to slide the file back on
his desk discreetly.

Jeremy Nelson, M.D. greeted me with a smile.
His arms were loaded down with grocery bags. He kicked the door
shut and walked directly toward me. Stopping well within my
personal space, he peered over my shoulder at the file I just slid
back. I stared at his tanned neck. A whiff of peppermint tic tacs
and a subtle aftershave floated my way. I had a sudden urge to
taste the exposed skin. All I had to do was lean in and press my
lips on the bend of his neck.