Free An Irish Country Love Story by Patrick Taylor Page A

“You run on. Good luck with your boyfriend.”
    â€œYou are a sweetheart,” she said, moved firmly against him, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.
    Barry stepped back. A peck between friends was one thing, but that hadn’t been just a peck. He felt himself start to blush. Don’t be stupid, he told himself. She knows you’re engaged.
    â€œThere’s only a couple of customers left. I’ll run on.” She was already stripping off her white coat as she fled.
    Barry cocked his head. What had she meant by that kiss? Come on, he told himself, don’t let your imagination run riot. He laughed. Nonie Stevenson was probably just an affectionate young woman, and one who surely needed her sleep. Forget it, Laverty.
    He headed into the kitchen, where Kinky was kneading rough white objects shaped like scones. “Cobbler topping,” she said. “Just finishing them off so Kitty can put them on top of the beef stew when it’s finishing off in the oven. Archie will be here to pick me up at five. We’re going to the British Legion in Bangor tonight, so.”
    The trip to the ex-serviceman’s club, Barry thought, accounted for the smart dress under her apron and her best green hat on a chair. “Have fun,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”
    He looked into the waiting room with its mural of floribunda roses on one wall. He heard a chorus of “Afternoon, Doctor,” from the three people in the room. Donal Donnelly sat with his wife, Julie, and a young woman in her early twenties whom Barry did not know. “I’m sorry,” he said, “but Doctor Stevenson has been called away.”
    â€œâ€™At’s all right, Doctor Laverty,” Donal said, but the young woman rose and said, “No harm to you, sir, but I really wanted to see the lady doctor.”
    Barry recalled a line from Sir William Osler, a famous late-nineteenth-century Canadian physician: “There are three sexes, men, women, and doctors,” but smiled and said, “That’s perfectly all right. She’ll be here on Wednesday afternoon and unless it’s urgent…” The recognition that some women did prefer being seen by another woman was, after all, one of the main reasons Nonie had been appointed to replace Jenny Bradley.
    â€œThank you, sir. I’ll come back.” The patient let herself out by the side door.
    Barry felt a flicker of irritation. It hardly seemed fair that the stranger should be inconvenienced because Nonie had wanted to get away early, but then in fairness the patient could have seen Barry if she’d wished.
    He smiled at Julie. “Come on, you two,” Barry said, and waited for the Donnellys to follow him. “I know why you’re here. Donal told us when we were on the beach a couple of weeks back. A little brother or sister for Victoria?” He ushered them into the surgery.
    They sat on the two hard wooden chairs and he took the swivel one in front of the old rolltop desk.
    â€œAnd this is your third pregnancy, Julie.”
    â€œYes, sir, you’d remember,” Julie said. “I lost the first.”
    â€œI do indeed,” Barry said. Hadn’t he run her up to the Royal in his own car when she’d miscarried her first? “But then you had wee Tori.”
    â€œShe’s at her granny’s so we could come in and see you,” Donal said.
    â€œI appreciate that,” Barry said. Consultations without the pleasure of the company of active toddlers always went more smoothly. “Now,” he said, crossing to the filing cabinet where records were stored, “let’s get some details.” Barry went through the routine questions so familiar to him now as to be second nature. “Right,” he said, doing Naegele’s calculations in his head, “that makes you fifteen weeks today.” He knew what Julie’s greatest fear would be, so added, “Past the time most