Autumn had struck him as a longtime kind of woman, and he’d known they both were at Samaritan temporarily. That thought had made it easier on him when she’d turned him down when he asked her out. He’d known that his timing wasn’t right, but there was something about Autumn that had compelled him to ask anyway.
“There.” She stepped back, causing him to jump out of the way.
He hadn’t realized how close together they were standing.
She waved over the cleared-out spot next to the beach bag. “I have to pick the twins up from day care on my way home and take them to their swim lesson at the lake. Anne has a web conference after her class this morning.”
Jon bit back a smile, getting a bittersweet kick out of the easy way Autumn went on about her family without knowing she was doing it. He lifted the tube into the car, and she closed the hatch.
Autumn got in and started the vehicle. “The visit is up in Schroon Falls. If you’ve driven Route 9 from the medical center in Saranac Lake, you’ve gone through it.”
“No, I’ve always taken the interstate.”
“Yeah, the Northway is a lot faster.”
His mind went back to Friday, when the drive to Crown Point had seemed interminable on the interstate Autumn called the Northway. “I take it your visit this morning isn’t off the interstate.”
“Right, but unless time is a real factor, I tend to avoid the Northway. I get that from my dad. He never takes a highway if he can take a byway. It drives Anne crazy sometimes.”
He could see that. In the case of these home visits, unnecessary time on the road would mean less time with that patient or another patient or in the office. “But you take the interstate when you’re called for a delivery.” He figured that was a given.
She shrugged. “It depends. We usually have time.”
Jon shifted in his seat. She seemed so nonchalant about it. As he was all too aware, a birth could be a life-and-death situation. Of course, rural Upstate New York wasn’t rural Haiti. He looked out the window at the mountain rising to his right. But it wouldn’t be unusual for a home-delivery patient’s house to be an hour from lifesaving equipment at the birthing center or the medical center in Saranac Lake.
The natural break in their conversation drew out into a lull that made the drive time drag. Might as well check in with the office. He pulled out his smartphone and touched the mail app, tapping the side of the phone while he waited for it to open. It took a moment for him to notice the no-signal icon in the right-hand corner.
“Do you often have trouble getting reception around here?”
“All the time,” Autumn said. “It doesn’t matter which service you use.”
“That could be a problem.”
“If you need to make a call, I’m sure Megan would let you use her house phone. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“It’s not important. I was trying to check my office email. What I meant was for being on call.”
“It can be challenging. No one around here depends solely on a cell phone. Kelly and I give our expectant parents our home landline numbers and our cell numbers, in addition to the office number. If I’m at Dad’s or Aunt Jinx’s or an activity at church, I’ll often set my cell phone to forward my calls there to make sure I get them. Of course, the birthing center’s off-hours answering service has all of our numbers.”
Jon couldn’t imagine giving his former practice’s service his church’s phone number or any of his family members’ numbers, even if he were close to them. It seemed unprofessional. “I guess that’s the best you can do. A pager service wouldn’t work any better.”
Autumn’s expression hardened. “It isn’t that big of a deal. People get a hold of us. Neither Kelly nor I have missed a birth yet.”
He couldn’t shake the thought that they could, or he could, and the possible consequences. His cousin had died because she didn’t have a doctor at her birth to manage the complications. “I’d better call the phone company and have the landline connected.”
“Good idea. The house we’re going to is right up here.” Autumn turned left on Peaks Hill Road and followed it to the end, stopping in front of a small, boxy house.
He looked at the solar collectors on the roof. “Your dad’s work?”
She wrinkled her forehead in puzzlement. “Oh, the collectors. No. Dave, the new father, said he’d bought the system online and installed it himself. He’s interested in talking with Dad.”
Jon’s gaze went from the gleaming collectors to the blistered, peeling paint on the cottage and the dip in the wooden step to the front door.
“Ready?” she asked, swinging her door open.
He followed suit and stepped out of the car, walking around to meet her at the trunk.
She clicked the hatch open and grabbed her stethoscope from the EMT bag and a black-and-white pull-behind suitcase with pink hearts and a cartoon cat on it.
He tried to keep a straight face.
“Hello Kitty.” Autumn nodded at the bag. “My sister, Sophie, picked it for my last birthday. She thought my brown one was too dull.”
“That one isn’t dull.” He let the smile spread across his face and received a matching one from Autumn. His heartbeat ticked up a notch. He pulled his gaze from her and perused the trunk. “Need anything else?”
“Yes, can you grab the scale? It’s there under the inner tube.”
He reached under the tube for the scale, glad to have something to occupy his attention. Seriously. Undone by a smile. He’d thought himself too jaded for that.
Autumn walked ahead of him to the house. He placed his foot on the step gingerly, feeling it give a bit from his weight. She knocked on the screen door.
“Hi.” A teenager in a baggy T-shirt and cut-off sweatpants swung the door open for them. She pushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Sorry about how I look. I don’t have anything else that fits comfortably. And I am not going to wear maternity clothes.”
This was the new mother?
Autumn laughed. “Someone should have told you that you wouldn’t fit into your regular clothes right away.”
“They did.” She grimaced. “But I didn’t believe them. I exercised and watched what I ate the whole pregnancy.”
At second glance, the girl didn’t look quite as young. He was just used to the thirty-and forty-something professional women he tended to see at his last practice.
“So, who’s your friend?” The girl motioned to Jon.
Evidently, Autumn hadn’t called ahead to tell her he was coming along.
“I’m sorry,” Autumn said. “Megan, this is Dr. Hanlon from the Ticonderoga Birthing Center. He’s interested in learning more about Kelly’s and my home-birth practice.”
The grin left Megan’s face. Autumn should have cleared his coming with the mother. And he should have thought first before he’d decided to come. A free-birther wouldn’t welcome an obstetrician tagging along. And he couldn’t stay without the mother’s agreement.
“I