“Oh, poor Charlie,” the nurse said under her breath. She hurried over to help him gather his things. The other doctor did not.
Dok blinked, trying to process what she was seeing.Thisdisheveled man was the other doctor? His hair was pulled back in a messy topknot, round tortoiseshell glasses perched on his nose. He wore baggy corduroys, a rumpled button-down shirt, and a pair of running shoes that had clearly seen better days. Energetic, Dok could see, as he scrambled to gather his things. Once everything was jammed back into the suitcases, the young man picked them up as if they weighed nothing. He approached with a big, friendly smile, the nurse trotting behind.
“Dr. Stoltzfus! I’m Charlie King. Sorry to keep you waiting. I got my suitcases stuck trying to get them off the train.”
Dok studied him for a while, weighing her first impression. Everything about him screamed that he wasn’t a professional. Sure, he was warm and engaging. But he lacked that confident authority most doctors, like Wren Baker, had in spades. And he clearly wasn’t the most organized person. “How’d you get the suitcases into the train?”
“Sideways,” he said, still grinning. “The conductor encouraged me to hurry it up unless I wanted a ride to Philadelphia.”
Oh boy.Bright red flag,waving high.“Before we leave the train station,” Dok said, “I’d like to go over a few things.” Just in case they wanted to turn right around and hop back on that train.
“First off, I’ll be honest—I only found out yesterday that I’d be supervising two residents. So if I seem a little unprepared, that’s because I am. It’s going to take some time to figure out how this will all shake out.” She let that sink in, giving them a chance to reconsider.
“Now, maybe you already know this, but over half of my practice is with the Old Order Amish. Most of my patients rely on traditional remedies and alternative treatments”—Wren’s eyebrows shot up at that—“and they prefer to handle things their way first. Many are reluctant to even step inside a doctor’s office, which is why I prioritize house calls. Gaining theirtrust takes time.” Dok knew that firsthand, even with a brother who was a bishop.
She scanned their faces. Evie looked eager, Charlie looked pleased, and Wren ... well, Wren was checking her watch.
“So, we’re all facing a big adjustment. It’ll take a few weeks for me—I mean, us—to get our footing, but in the grand scheme of a residency, that’s nothing.” Dok offered a wry smile. “With that said, welcome to Stoney Ridge.”
“Shall we be off then?” Wren said, already heading toward the parking lot.
Dok watched her go, feeling a bit irritated. She knew she should cut them some slack—they were probably just as anxious and uncertain as she was. But in less than five minutes, she’d already gotten a sense of how these three operated. The only one she thought would be the right fit for her practice was the nurse. And she was the only one who wasn’t staying.
Evie turned in a circle to take in the full sight of Windmill Farm. It was the most peaceful setting she could imagine. Rolling hills dotted with sheep and horses, a red windmill turning in the breeze. Different from her grandparents’ farm, but much the same.
Being here brought Evie a sense of inner calm—something that had gone missing during the tense train ride. Wren’s cold demeanor had seemed even frostier than usual, particularly when Charlie was full of questions about Anabaptist history—a topic Evie knew well, thanks to her grandfather’s endless stories. It was hard to focus with Wren’s impatient sighs and constant glances at her smartphone. Her thoughts kept drifting—Charlie’s defined cheekbones, his soulful brown eyes, those thick, lush lashes. Could he have gotten even more attractive than the last time she saw him? Was that even possible?
“That sour smell! It’s awful. What is it?”
Evie turned to see Wren covering her nose. “Manure. Farmers spread it on the fields in the spring.”
But Wren wasn’t listening to her. Her attention, as always, was on Charlie. “Did you see that farmer we passed on the road? His beard was long enough to braid.”
Charlie stroked his chin. “I might have to grow a beard while I’m here.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Wren said, like she was in charge of Charlie’s appearance.
Maybe she was.
Behind Wren, Evie saw Dok talking to a small older woman standing on the farmhouse porch. The woman pointed to an outbuilding that they’d passed as they drove up the driveway. Dok had told them to wait for her by the car while she spoke to Fern. Charlie had left the car to wander over to the pasture to pat a horse, and Evie wondered how he happened to be so comfortable around animals. There was so much she didn’t know about him. Things she longed to know.
Wren strolled over to where Charlie stood by the pasture, with Evie trailing a few steps behind, her pace unhurried. As Wren reached the fence, she extended her hand confidently to pat the horse, only for the animal to jerk its head back and eye her warily before trotting off.
“What’s wrong with him?” Wren asked, frowning.
“Her. He’s a mare.” Charlie gave her a sideways glance. “You can’t just approach an animal like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re a predator sizing up your next meal.”
“I am not!”
“You approacheverythinglike you’re a predator sizing it up.”
Evie let out a snort of laughter. Wren spun around, startled to find her standing there, completely unaware they’d had an audience.
Just then Dok bolted down the porch steps and ran towardthe car, holding a device in the air. “Emergency. You’ll need to sort things out with Fern. Suitcases out of the back, please. ASAP.”
