Page 4 of Saving Wyatt

"Now, now. That wasn't so hard, was it?" I asked her and taped a cotton pad over the puncture site.

Her lips drew deeper into a smile, and she looked me in the eyes. "I barely even felt it," she said.

I chuckled. It certainly hadn't looked that way from where I was standing, but I wasn't going to tell her that.

"See? I'm a good doctor. I know what I'm doing."

She shrugged. "I'd say your exotic accent helps a lot also. Helps take my mind off this wretched thing.” She glanced at her arm.

I laughed harder. "Well, I'm glad you think that."

I bit my lip and focused on the blood sample for a moment, taking a deep breath.

It was hard to be Othered by people after living amongst them for over a decade and to be constantly reminded that I wasn't one of them. Even when they didn't mean any harm. It always simply reminded me I wasn't one of them. That I didn’t belong. Even if some days I felt more American than Greek.

"Now, I'll send those to the lab today, and we should have the results in the next couple of days. So please stop by and we'll look them over together to plan next steps. How does that sound?"

Mrs. Austen patted my hand and got up from the narrow chair as I slid the van door open, hunching until I cleared the top of the vehicle and I was standing outside on the street next to her.

"You're a true blessing on this island, Dr. Ari. I don't know what we'd do without you."

I held her hand for a moment and looked her in the eyes, taking in her words and the full intent behind them.

This simple comment proved to me how much these people needed decent, respectful, and, most of all, free healthcare.

Everyone thought Mayberry Holm and its neighboring island, Nantucket, were these high-end, fancy paradises, when in reality, most lived below the poverty line, a direct result of the islands’ prestige and reputation. A prestige that had displaced the locals in favor of all the rich assholes that thought they could—and did—outbuy and outprice everyone else if it got them a slice of their very own heaven.

"Now take care, you handsome devil," Mrs. Austen said and started to walk away, then seemingly changed her mind and added, "We'll have to find you a nice local girl to make sure you never leave us."

I only winked at her and let her go her way, turning to the next patient in line, a middle-aged man with flushed red cheeks and unfocused eyes.

"Please. Come on in." I helped him inside and started going through his medical history when there was a knock on the door.

Warren appeared outside and nodded at me and my patient in lieu of a greeting, then climbed inside.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"The courier should be here soon. Would you mind preparing the samples for them?"

Warren gave me a silent salute and got to work.

He may not have been a doctor, but he'd spent enough time in war zones treating wounded soldiers he might as well be. I had no idea what I'd do without his help. I really needed to get a nurse, but that would only make my funding shrink faster.

"Dinner?" I asked a couple hours later when it got too dark to have any patients waiting outside in the cold wintry December.

"No, I think I'd like to starve tonight." Warren snorted, and I rolled my eyes at him as we made our way home in the van.

Christmas lights illuminated our way through the dark quaint streets, and I navigated the roads through melting snow and drunk tourists until we got to our apartment.

"Pizza's on the way," Warren announced, and we made our way inside.

"How's your brother?" I asked when I’d settled down at the kitchen table with some paperwork that needed sorting.

"Good. Busy. I helped at the bar a little. Tried to catch up."

I looked up from the laptop and studied his face. "Tried to?" I asked.

Warren shrugged. "I don't know, man. Wyatt is...well, Wyatt. He keeps to himself, so it's hard to get anything out of him."