Hailey shrugged. “He made me promise…”
Grant opened the car door and slid out. He stared at Hailey, who was still in her seat, and slammed the door.
Hailey pushed the door open in a huff and slid out on Grant’s side. “At least I’m not a liar!” she said through clinched teeth.
“Loose lips sink ships,” Grant said coldly.
Grant examined the tiny two-room doctor’s office, housed in a white shed with chipped paint and a sign that he figured the first Doc Mason must have painted himself about a hundred years earlier. “And, I’m gonna die,” he nodded confidently as he started toward the door.
When Grant and his entourage walked inside, Misty was behind the reception desk, wearing blue jeans and a green Hope Hull Basketball hoodie. She worked as Paul’s dad’s receptionist during breaks from school to make a little pocket money. “Grant, are you okay?” she exclaimed. “Paul called and told us you passed out again!”
Nora’s face contorted. “Was I the only one who didn’t know?”
Rusty Cobb was walking out of the exam room with Dr. Mason.
Grant flopped down in a wooden chair in the waiting room between two mismatched end tables, one containing a copy of Good Housekeeping circa 1988 and the other a brown, drooping potted plant. Grant frowned at Hailey, jerking his head toward the forgotten décor. “Call me paranoid, but I have a funny little rule about not going to doctors whose office plants have died!”
“I want to call you a lot of things right now,” Hailey rolled her eyes.
“Grant, did you see my finger?” Rusty called as he bounded over, proudly displaying his bandaged hand. “Took a nail right through the middle finger. Man, I’ll tell you it hurt like the dickens!”
A plethora of possible responses danced around in Grant’s head, many of which seemed too good to pass up, but he just wasn’t in the mood. After an interior monologue during which he decided to forgo the joke, Grant intended to respond with something short and just polite enough, but he never got around to it.
Hailey, after shooting Grant a look of strong disapproval, smiled sympathetically at Rusty. “That’s awful, Rusty! I hope Dr. Mason got you taken care of.”
“He did,” Rusty assured her. “He got it all cleaned up and told me what to take for the pain. I’ll be fine, Darlin’.” Rusty glanced over at Grant. “What about him? I heard our star player is gettin’ sick on us right here about time for the playoffs.”
“He’ll be okay,” Hailey smiled. “He’s pretty tough.”
“I’m not sick,” Grant grumbled stubbornly.
“Rusty, get on out of here, so Doc Mason can see Grant before the seniors start coming in for their weeklies,” Misty called from behind the desk.
Dr. Mason shook Rusty’s good hand. “Give me a call if you have any troubles, Rusty. Misty will mark you down for a follow-up.” Then Dr. Mason put his hand on Nora’s shoulder. “Nora Jean, it sure is good having you back around here. I haven’t seen Jack this happy in a long time.”
“What do you know?” Grant nodded. “Suddenly I do feel a little sick.”
“It’s been good to be home, Doc,” Nora said cordially.
“Grant,” Dr. Mason called, “let’s get you in here and take a look at you.”
Ten minutes later, Grant and Dr. Mason walked back out into the waiting room. Nora, Jack and Hailey all stood at once.
“It seems to me he’s about over that cold,” Dr. Mason said, taking off his glasses and sliding them into the pocket of the while lab coat he wore over his flannel button-down. “I gave him a full physical, and he seems healthy as he can be.”
“With all due respect, Doc,” Jack frowned, “healthy eighteen-year-old boys don’t just collapse on the basketball court.”
“And this wasn’t the first time!” Nora added. “Did his heart sound okay?”
“His heart sounds good,” Dr. Mason nodded.
“If it isn’t his heart, what else could it be?” Jack asked. “Blood sugar maybe?”
“I was going to recommend that he has some blood tests done to give everyone peace of mind,” Dr. Mason agreed. “I can order the blood tests, but you’ll have to take him to the lab in Memphis for those.”
“Okay,” Jack nodded. “Is that the next step? Is there anything we should do in the meantime? No basketball, I’m assuming?”
Dr. Mason shrugged. “I think if he feels like playing, he can play. We have some big games coming up after the Christmas break. I know he doesn’t want to miss those, and, right now, I don’t see a reason for him to.”
“When can we get an appointment in Memphis?” Nora asked.
“I’ll tell you what,” Dr. Mason said, walking toward the reception desk. “You go on and take him home to rest. I’ll make some phone calls and let you know.”
“Thank you, Doc,” Jack said, shaking the doctor’s hand. “We’ll be waiting for your call.”
Nora twisted the phone cord around her finger as she listened to Randy’s rant. “I understand that, Randy,” she finally said exasperatedly. “I am just trying to offer the best possible solution for everyone here. I understand this is not what we had discussed, but, at the time, I had no idea that Grant was going to have a doctor’s appointment on Christmas Eve Eve.”
“The 23rd, Nora,” Randy scoffed. “Let me talk to Grant.”
“He’s asleep,” Nora replied calmly.
“In the middle of the day?” Randy barked back.
“He needed a nap,” Nora sighed.
“So basically our son is sick, and that hick town doctor couldn’t tell you anything? Did he do any testing at all?” Randy snarled.
