The Doctor's Redemption

Allie grinned back at him with obvious hero worship.

“Thank you.” She led Allie through the barrier. “Bye.”

That would be it for the reappearing Mark Clayborn. He had been a part of her life that was now long gone. She wouldn’t be seeing him again.

Mark had never planned to return to Mobile to live permanently, but that had changed. He’d worked hard to make LA home. Even the few times he’d come back to Alabama he’d only stayed a few days and then gone again. When his father’s houseman had phoned to say Mark Clayborn, Sr. had suffered a stroke, Mark could no longer refuse not to make southern Alabama his home again. His mother was gone and his brother was in the military with no control over where he was stationed. Mark was left no choice. Someone needed to live close enough to take care of his father.

Pulling up the circular drive framed by a well-manicured yard in the center of the oldest section of homes in Mobile, Mark stopped in front of the antebellum mansion. This house had been his home for the twenty-five years before he had moved to LA. Now just his father lived here. Mark had chosen to take up residence forty-five minutes across the bay in the Clayborn summer house in Fairhope, Alabama. He had joined a general practice group made up of five doctors. The clinic was located in the town of Spanish Fort, which was halfway between Mobile and Fairhope. He lived and worked close enough to take care of his father and far enough away that memories of the past would remain murky instead of vivid.

It had been carnival season when he’d left for LA. He’d been riding high on being the king. His queen had been his girlfriend for the last two years and one of the most beautiful girls in Mobile society. He’d gotten his pick of medical fellowships that had allowed him to only be a few hours away in Birmingham. Gossips had it that he and his queen would ride off into the happily-ever-after as soon as he finished his fellowship. Mark had not planned to disappoint them. That was until he and Mike had decided they needed to drive to the beach after the krewe dance on Fat Tuesday night.

How many times since he’d been back had he picked up the phone to call and see how Mike was doing? How many times had he not followed through? He’d seen Mike a few times over the years. Those had been brief and uncomfortable meetings. Mark had always left with another wheelbarrow of guilt piled on top of the mountain that was already there.

He and Mike had made big plans. They had both been on their way to Birmingham, Mark to complete his fellowship and Mike to earn his Master’s in Business. They would return to town to set up a clinic practice, Mark handling the medical end and Mike overseeing the business side. They’d even talked about their families building homes next door to each other. But after the accident Mike’s longtime girlfriend had left him. Those dreams vanished. Because of Mark.

As time had gone by it had become easier to satisfy his need to know how Mike was doing by asking others about him. Often when Mark had spoken to his father he’d ask about Mike. His father had always encouraged him to call and talk to Mike if he wanted to know how he was doing. Mark hadn’t. That way the guilt didn’t become a throbbing, breathing thing.

Mark pushed the front doorbell of his father’s house then opened the door. He was met in the high-ceilinged hall by John, the man who had worked for Mark, Sr. since Mark, Jr. had been a boy.

“Hi. How’s he doing today?”

“Your dad has had a good day. He’s out by the pool.”

Mark headed down the all-too-familiar hall that led through the middle of the house and out onto the brick patio with the pool beyond. His father sat in a wheelchair in the sun, with his nurse nearby, reading a book. Mark winced at the sight. It hurt his heart to see the strong, commanding man brought to this by a stroke. Only with time and patience and massive amounts of physical therapy would he regain enough strength to walk again. At least his father had a chance of getting out of the chair, unlike Mike, who had no choice.

Mark circled his father so he faced him. “Hi, Dad.”

His white-haired father gave him a lopsided smile. “Hello, son.”

Fortunately his mind was still strong. His nurse closed her book and after a nod to Mark made her way toward the house.

Mark pulled a metal pool chair close so he could sit where his father could see him. “How are you doing today?”

“Fine. Emmett has been by to tell me what went on at the board meeting. He said you didn’t make it.”

“No, I had patients to see. We’ve talked about this already. You’ve put good people in place to handle the company. Let them do it.”

“It’s not the same. We need a Clayborn there.”

“I know, Dad.”

His father continued. “I’m glad you stopped by. I wanted to talk to you about attending the krewe dance next week. I can’t go and our family needs to be represented. You’re the only one to do it.”

Mark had always enjoyed the fanfare and glamour of The Mystical Order of Orion dance, the visit from the king and queen and their court. But after what had happened twelve years ago he was hesitant to attend. He took a deep breath. “It’s not really my thing anymore but I know it’s important to you to keep up appearances.”

“You were king. That is and was a high honor. You owe it to the krewe, to the Clayborn name to attend.”

“I know, Dad. I’ll do my duty.”

“This used to be your favorite time of the year. You need to let yourself off the hook, son. It wasn’t your fault.”

Maybe everyone thought that but Mark sure didn’t. He carried the horror of what had happened to Mike with him daily. Now that he was back in Mobile it was more alive than it had ever been. Time hadn’t healed the wound, only covered it over.

Mark had dinner with his father then headed across the bay to Fairhope, a small township where the family summer home was located. When he’d arrived in Alabama he’d needed a place to live. Staying in Fairhope gave him a house of his own, a safe haven. Since he was working at a clinic in Spanish Fort, a city just north of Fairhope, living there was convenient.

Entering the large dark room with hardwood paneling, Mark walked through to the family-style kitchen. There he pulled a drink out of the refrigerator and went out to the deck. Mobile Bay stretched far and wide before him. He could see the tall buildings of the city in the distance. The wind had picked up, rustling the shrubbery around the deck. A seagull swooped down and plucked a fish out of the water near the end of the pier. No, this wasn’t LA anymore.

Mark had agreed to pitch in and work the parades as a first responder when one of his new partners had said that they did that as a public service during Mardi Gras season. He’d agreed to do his part but had expected that it would be in some of the surrounding smaller towns. When he’d been assigned the parade in downtown Mobile he hadn’t felt like he could say no. He needed to be a team player since he’d only joined the medical group a few months earlier. Despite the parade location, Mark had enjoyed the assignment. Especially helping the young girl. Her mother had been attractive. More than once since then he’d wondered where she worked.

He’d spent the rest of the parade scanning the crowd. His chest still contracted at the thought he might see Mike. He’d spent years making a point of not thinking about the automobile accident. Now that he was back it seemed the only thing on his mind.

His cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket. “This is Dr. Clayborn.”

“Hey, Mark, it’s Ralph. We need you again the day after tomorrow if you can help us out. Afternoon parade in Dauphine.”

He didn’t mind working a parade in Dauphine. It was on his side of the bay. As long as it wasn’t in Mobile. There the chance of facing his past became greater. “Yeah, I’m only seeing patients in the morning. Will I be on a bike again?”

“Not this time. I just need you at the med tent. It’ll be set up in the First Baptist Church parking lot.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Marsha?” Laura Jo called as she and Allie opened the door of her best friend’s apartment Wednesday afternoon.

“Hey, we’re back here,” a voice came from the direction of the kitchen area located in the back of the apartment.

She followed Allie down the short hallway to find Marsha and her son, Jeremy, decorating a wagon with purple, green and gold ribbons.

Marsha looked up as they entered. “You know Mardi Gras almost kills me every year. I say I’m not going to do anything next year then here I am, doing even more.”

Allie had already joined in to help Jeremy with the decorations.

“I know what you mean. It makes working in the ER interesting. I’ve enjoyed my day off but I’ll pay for it, no doubt, by being on the night shift. I appreciate you letting Allie spend the night.”

“It’s not a problem. I love her like my own.” She ruffled Allie’s hair.

Laura Jo had met Marsha at the Mothers Without Partners clinic. Phil had lived up to all her father’s predictions and more when he’d left her pregnant and cleaned out their bank account to never be seen again. Even after all these years he hadn’t even checked to see if he had a son or daughter. Marsha’s husband had died in a fishing accident. She and Marsha had hit it off right away. Circumstances had brought them together but friendship had seen to it that they still depended on each other.

They’d shared an apartment for a few months and had traded off their time watching the kids while the other had worked or gone to school. They had their own apartments now but in the same complex and Marsha was more like family than the one Laura Jo had left behind.

They had joined forces to help other mothers who didn’t have anyone to fall back on. They had convinced the city to sell them an old home so these women would have a place to live and receive help while they were getting their lives in order. The deadline to pay for the house was looming. Finding the funding had become more difficult than Laura Jo had anticipated.

Marsha announced, “I heard from the city contact. He said we had to move soon on the house or the city will have to announce it’s for sale. They can’t hold it forever.”

Laura Jo groaned. That wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “How much time do we have?”

“Week or two. At least until things settle down after Mardi Gras. We’ve got to come up with a good way to raise a lot of money. Fast. I know you don’t want to do it but you do have the contacts. Maybe you could put on a party dress and go pick the pockets of all those society friends you used to hang around with.”

Laura Jo shook her head. “That’s not going to happen. We’ll have to find another way.”