Run: Beginnings Read online

  Run:

  Beginnings

  Michaela Adams

  Copyright 2014 Michaela Adams

  All Rights Reserved

  This work is not bound by DRM, which allows you as a reader to enjoy this story on any digital platform you choose to use. But please respect the work of this author. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any similarities to events or situations is also coincidental.

  © 2014 Michaela Adams

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Design: Scarlet Cox

  If you enjoy Michaela Adams’ works,

  sign up for her mailing list to be immediately notified when her next story is available!

  Sign up for Michaela Adams’ Mailing List!

  Table of Content:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter One

  Natalie could feel her teeth chattering as the cold rain splattered across her windshield and the freezing Canadian wind blew right through her old 1982 Toyota truck. Well, it wasn’t really hers. It had belonged to her distant great uncle, Dr. Seymour Cadwell. And as far as Natalie was concerned, she couldn’t fathom how an eighty-year-old man had possibly driven such a rundown and tired truck for so many years without having multiple bouts of pneumonia. It was hard enough for Natalie to adjust to Canadian life, freezing winters included, without the crippling disadvantage of an old wheezing truck to ferry her around town.

  Natalie squinted through the blurry windshield as she spotted her destination: Mitchells Hardware Store. If her lips hadn’t been frozen stiff, Natalie might’ve smiled at the quaintness of the store name. Coming from sunny Los Angeles, Natalie was constantly marveling at life in small town Canada. Even pulling her truck up to the storefront was a wonder. No fighting for parking, no frantically searching for quarters for the meter. Just pull up and park. Amazing.

  Gripping her coat tightly around herself, Natalie quickly jumped out of her truck and into the warm hardware store. The downpour soaked her within two steps. Drenched, Natalie quickly threw herself inside. She could almost feel her icy breath thaw in the radiating warmth of the store.

  Natalie took in a deep breath, savoring the warmth and the dryness before carefully shaking herself dry over the thick rug by the door, clearly meant for its wet patrons. Wiping her boots, she walked into the small but tidily stocked store.

  She had never been in such a small hardware store. In California, only the large chain stores that were the size of warehouses populated the cities. But seeing the aged wooden shelving and the handwritten signs made Natalie smile. This was much nicer than she had expected. It was warm, cozy, and genuine. She could feel the loving care that someone had taken in maintaining this store.

  Digging into her purse that she wore under her coat, she pulled out a partially soaked piece of paper. She squinted to make out her blurred list. Dr. Seymour Cadwell had been a long time respected physician of Lowell, a small town eight hours north of Vancouver. But at eighty-two years old, he was ready to retire with his family near Nova Scotia. He had contacted Natalie’s mother two years ago asking if Natalie would be interested in taking over his practice. Natalie had been surprised by the offer. She had never met Dr. Cadwell and hadn’t even known of his existence till the phone call. But she must’ve been the only family he knew of who had followed him into the medical field. And Dr. Cadwell seemed keen on keeping the practice within the family. At the time Natalie had said no. She didn’t think moving to some obscure town in the Canadian wilderness was the best move for her career. But after Michael….

  Natalie shook her head. It didn’t matter. She was here now and that’s all that mattered. And now the real issue at hand was finding a good hammer, some nails, and maybe even some tiles and grout. Natalie walked down one narrow aisle, admiring the neat and tidy organization of all the stock.

  “Oh there’s one!” Natalie whispered to herself, spying a small stack of step stools on a high shelf. Although not exactly short, Natalie definitely did not possess a model’s stature. A model’s anything, Natalie thought ruefully. Petite with curvy round hips and full breasts, Natalie had never fit in with the California image of a tall and slim beach bunny. When she had decided to finally make the move to Canada, she had joked with her friends and family that she had enough natural padding to carry her through the harsh winters. That was something she had learned early on: laugh at yourself first before anyone else can. It’ll preemptively take the wind out of any possible nasty comment’s sails.

  Standing on her toes, she reached up for the leg of the folded stool. Her fingertips just barely brushed it. Biting down on her lower lip, she edged herself a little closer to the shelves, feeling her fingers finally gripping the leg. Sighing with satisfaction, she gripped the leg and gave it a gentle tug. She had gotten the top stool and wanted to pull it out without toppling the rest. If she could angle it just right, it should pull away nice and easy.

  Regripping the stool leg, she gave it a clean jerk. Something caught and with a horrific realization, Natalie could see the stack falling towards her as if in slow motion. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her head and raised her arm over herself in protection from the oncoming avalanche of stools.

  But instead of a painful barrage of step stools, she felt the wind knocked out of her as a steel band squeezed tightly around her waist. She heard the thuds of the stools falling but instead of them falling onto her, she felt them thunder down something hard and large that stood behind her. Trying to catch her breath, Natalie opened her eyes and realized she was now facing the opposite side of the aisle. Looking down, she saw a large muscular forearm squeezing her across the middle, pulling her tightly against what felt like a chiseled steel wall but what realistically was probably a man’s chest. Someone had grabbed her and turned her around so the stools had hit the man’s back instead of her face.

  Natalie tried to turn around but the strong arm kept her in place. Without a grunt or even a sharp intake of breath, the man lifted her up with his one arm around her waist and pulled her over the pool of stools that surrounded them and placed her gently on the outside of the aisle. Natalie immediately felt her cheeks suffuse with embarrassment as they always did whenever someone intimately handled her body. She couldn’t believe the man had just lifted her with one arm. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she pulled away. But her cheeks stayed red. She couldn’t help but feel warm and even delicate from the rescue. Natalie shook her head. Come on, Evers! Pull yourself together, Natalie quickly chided herself.

  Taking a few steps back, she peered up at her rescuer. Natalie felt her breath stop and her heartbeat pause.

  Standing well over six feet tall, her rescuer looked like the Canadian wilderness personified. With a rugged face that looked like it had been carved from a mountainside, the man’s features seemed both harsh yet open. Dark green eyes gleamed beneath black brows. His closely cropped thick black hair only added to his roughness. The man’s broad chest seemed to fill the entire width of the aisle. In fact, Natalie didn’t know how they had both been able to stand in the aisle together. His entire person seemed to radiate restrained strength. And this strength made Natalie’s cheeks burn and her panties moisten.

  “Err…” Natalie started, unsure how to thank the man while apologizing for attacking him with stools. “Are you okay? Did any of them hit your head? How many fingers do you see?” She held up two finger
s.

  The man’s lips quirked. “Two,” his voice rumbled, deep like the rolling winds. “Are you okay? Do you know how many fingers your holding?” His tone was laced with dry humor that both embarrassed and relaxed Natalie. So he wasn’t mad at least. And he didn’t seem to have sustained any kind of concussion. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Natalie nodded, feeling the wet strands of her hair stick to her cheek. “I’m okay,” she murmured. God what must she look like! Her brown curls were wet with rain and probably hanging in scraggly strands across her cheeks. She hoped her mascara wasn’t running. Brushing back some of her wet hair, Natalie gestured towards the fallen stools. “I’m sorry about that. I was just trying to grab one of the stools. They placed them so high,” Natalie said in a lame excuse.

  The man’s lips twitched again. Bending down, he grabbed one of the step stools and handed it to Natalie. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll try to place things at a more manageable level for little rabbits like you,” he said, his dark green eyes twinkling with humor.

  Natalie shot him an annoyed glance. “I’m not little!” she huffed automatically before the rest of what the man had said hit her. Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t realize this was your store!” She could almost kick herself for her comment on how high things had been shelved. Way to insult the man who just took a stack of stools to the back for you, Evers, Natalie grimaced.

  This time the man laughed. It was just like how Natalie imagined a thunderstorm would sound in a remote town like this—warm, low, with a crackle of power. It sent a tingling heat down Natalie’s spine to hear it.

  “No insult taken, little rabbit,” he said, almost affectionately. His grin widened when he saw her annoyed look at his mention of her stature. “Now besides pulling down every stool in the store, what else are you looking for?”

  Unable to quite yet gather her wits about her, Natalie just handed the man her sodden list. Looking down the considerable amount of needed items, the man gave a low whistle. “Are you building a house from scratch or something?” he asked, an eyebrow quirked in question.

  Natalie huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, something like that,” she replied. “I’m trying to fix up Dr. Cadwell’s old house.” Along with the practice, Natalie had inherited the old doc’s house and car. And just like the truck, the house was in considerable need of repair. Although it was a large and theoretically beautiful country house with large rooms and a wraparound porch, the house had almost no insulation within its walls or windows. Some of the doors had somehow warped and didn’t fit properly in its jamb. The grouting had come away for a lot of the tiles in the kitchen and bathrooms. Since moving in, Natalie had been sleeping with two sweaters on and a triple layer of socks. Once again, Natalie found herself marveling over the old doctor’s constitution.

  “The Cadwell place?” the man asked, his interest clearly piqued. “You live there now? But I though the old doc had left that place to his replacement.”

  Natalie wiggled her fingers in a small wave. “Yes, he did. Hello. I’m Dr. Natalie Evers,” she said, her voice matching the man’s teasing tone.

  The man looked flabbergasted. “You’re the new doc? But you’re not old enough!” he protested.

  Natalie straightened her spine, although it didn’t do her much good against such a giant. “I am so! I’d already been practicing for two years before I took over Dr. Cadwell’s clinic.”

  The man gave her dubious look. He seemed unsure that she was experienced enough to use a can opener let alone run a medical practice. “If that’s the case,” he said with enough doubt to make Natalie sigh, “then that’s quite a job. Doc Cadwell’s place has been falling apart for years.”

  Natalie nodded and pointed at the piece of paper. “Hence, my long list of supplies. I need to get that place in decent running order before winter really hits. I’ve never had to live through snow and I don’t plan on having it fall through my roof for my first year.”

  The man’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline at her words. A neat trick, Natalie mused considering his broad forehead. “And you think you’ll be able to do all those repairs singlehandedly?” he asked.

  “Of course I can,” she huffed. “I’ve done a rotation in neurology where I literally had a man’s brain in my hands. I think I can handle a few nails and a hammer.” Natalie tried to say this with as much confidence as possible. It was really for her benefit as much as the man’s. In such a small remote town, she hardly expected an overflow of available contractors living nearby. She would just have to do the best she could till spring rolled around and she could hire someone from a larger town over.

  The man, towering over her, gave her a dubious look. Despite the disaster with the step stools, Natalie tried to make herself look like a competent handywoman. With a sigh of surrender, the man stuck out a large, well-callused hand. “I’m Eric Mitchells. Looks like I have some rooting around for you to do today,” he said with a warm smile.

  Natalie shook Eric’s hand, marveling at how her own hand was completely swallowed in Eric’s larger one. “Wait here and I’ll get you set up. I don’t want you to be rearranging my entire store,” he said with a teasing wink.

  Natalie felt her cheeks immediately flush red.

  Within thirty minutes, Eric had tidily gathered all her supplies and had even packed them into her truck, wrapping everything in a waterproof tarp. After Natalie paid, Eric stopped her with a meaningful look. “Always ask for help if you need it, Doc. I’ll be here.”

  Natalie felt her heart skip a beat. How could this man have such an effect on her? She had only just met him!

  “I will,” she murmured before walking quickly out into the rain and the welcomed coolness of the air.

  Chapter Two

  “This time, be careful where you put your hands in the kitchen!” Natalie chided gently as she walked Mrs. Snow back towards the front of the clinic.

  The sixty-year-old women smiled and nodded. “Thank you again, Dr. Evers. My hand already feels better!” she said, lifting up her bandaged right hand which she had burned by carelessly touching a hot pan. The forgetful old woman looked around the clinic hallway, as if waiting for something to magically appear. “Now my glasses….”

  Natalie suppressed a smile and gently tapped against the lenses that were resting on Mrs. Snow’s head. “Ah!” the lady cried as she pulled them down onto her nose. Nearby Nurse Marcia grinned and shook her head indulgently.

  Handing over Mrs. Snow’s chart to the nurse, Natalie went back into her small office in the back corner of the clinic. It had just enough space for a rickety desk and chair. There had been no computer when she had arrived but luckily Natalie had had her laptop. She was slowly trying to digitize as much of the work in the clinic as possible. But it was slow going, considering the clinic had been relying on the traditional paper and pen methodology for nearly sixty years.

  Safely hidden away in her office, Natalie gave in to a tired yawn. She had been up all night trying to refit the doors in her home. She had felt they were the first priority since the ill fit allowed chilly blasts of Canadian wind to breeze through the home.

  Thinking about her recent adventures—fixing a house, taking over a new practice, moving to the wilderness—Natalie could hardly recognize her life. It had been such a sudden change from just a few months ago.

  ***

  “Why would you go to some place so damn far? Lowell? Where the heck is that? I’ve never even heard of it!” Amber had demanded, her hand resting over her large taut belly. Natalie had done a round in obstetrician and pediatrics but her friend Amber had to be the fastest growing pregnant belly she had ever seen. Only five months in, and her friend’s tummy was a huge taut drum.

  Natalie stirred her iced tea as she leaned back on Amber’s plush couch in her immaculately kept living room. She didn’t know how her tidy friend would handle the messy business of motherhood. The thought of it made Natalie smile into her tea.

  “Well, I
doubt you or I know all the cities in Canada. It is a big country, you know,” Natalie teased.

  Amber glared at her. “Don’t you try to be smart. What I mean is, why am I not at least hearing names like Vancouver or Montreal or some place big!”

  “Well,” Natalie said, looking down at her drink, “Lowell is just outside of Vancouver.”

  “Eight hours north through heavily wooded mountains is not ‘just outside of Vancouver’ and you know it,” Amber snapped. She looked at her friend and sighed helplessly, saying in a gentler tone, “Don’t run away because of Michael.”

  “It isn’t because of Michael!” Natalie said a little too hurriedly. Flipping back a thick curl, she said more calmly, “It’s a great opportunity, Am. I’ll be running my own clinic!”

  Amber raised a brow. “I know I’m just a fat old housewife and soon to be stay-at-home mom so what do I know but I’m pretty sure working at UCLA Medical is several steps more prestigious than running a backwoods clinic in Canada.”

  Natalie couldn’t help but snort at her friend’s perceptiveness. “Well maybe I don’t want to go the major hospital route,” she said vaguely. “Maybe I want to work in a more intimate setting.”

  Amber reached out and gently touched her friend’s arm. Despite what her friend had said, even pregnant, Amber had still retained the litheness of her naturally model-like figure. Her arms were still slim and her body still quite slender, minus her huge belly. In high school, they had looked like the odd pair—the tall and beautiful Amber with the short and pudgy Natalie. But they had had a friendship of deep understanding that had withstood the test of time. Natalie knew she could always rely upon Amber no matter what.

  “Be honest with me, Nat. This is your life we’re talking about here. Don’t let what happened with Michael take away everything else you’ve worked so hard for.” Amber’s clear blue eyes glittered with sincerity and warmth.