I chuckled and tugged him in for a kiss. Things were moving in the right direction with Max. While he was a work in progress, progress was being made. Maybe one day we’d get married. Maybe one day we’d adopt some kids. We’d definitely always have a pool. But regardless of what came next, I knew it would be an adventure.
How could it not be with Dr. Maxwell Thornton by my side?
Epilogue
Maxwell
First day the clinic was officially open, the waiting room was packed. I was conflicted about how to feel about that. On the one hand, it was a relief to have so many of the citizens of Rainy Dale eager to have me as their doctor. But on the other hand, it meant the day was going to be painfully long.
Girdy had convinced me to reinstate the cookies and coffee thing. I didn’t see why these people needed sweets and caffeine, but when it came to those sorts of decisions, I let Girdy lead. She was much more aware of what was expected than I’d ever be. Our meager offerings would never be as opulent as the spread River had provided his patients, but most of the people seemed content with the cookies.
We didn’t finish our day until after 6:00 p.m. My final patient of the day was Tim Patton. Tim was a fifty-six-year-old man who was accompanied by his exhausted-looking wife, Patricia.
“Dr. Thornton, I’m at my wit’s end,” she wailed as they settled in the examination room.
“That could be because she’s a nitwit,” Tim said cheerfully, laughing loudly at his own joke.
I frowned at him but then tried to focus on his wife again. “Can you explain to me what theproblem is?”
She sighed. “He won’t stop. He just keeps telling stupid jokes all day long. He doesn’t take anything seriously. He simply makes stupid puns, and it’s getting to the point I can’t handle it anymore.”
“Hey, Doc.” Tim cackled. “Did you hear the one about a couple of blood cells that met and fell and love? Turns out their relationship was all invein.” He slapped his knee and laughed.
“See?” She shook her head. “He never stops.”
“Hmmm.” I moved to Tim, who was sitting on the examination table. “When did you begin to feel the compulsion to be so… uh… funny, Tim?”
“Jokes are great fun.” He grinned. “I’d tell you a joke about a germ, but I don’t want you to spread it around.”
I met Patricia’s anxious gaze, and she mumbled, “He just can’t seem to stop.”
“Stop?” Tim guffawed. “Why would I stop? There’s no stop sign here.”
I lifted my brows because not only was Tim annoyingly loud, but his jokes were horrible. “When did he begin doing this?”
Patricia furrowed her brow. “About six weeks ago. He’s an electrician, and he got shocked while working on a construction site. The jolt caused him to fall from the ladder he was on, and he hit his head on the cement. He was in the hospital with a concussion for a few days, but then they sent him home. He just woke up one day and started telling bad jokes nonstop.”
I rubbed my jaw, studying Tim. He seemed to have trouble sitting still, and his face was flushed. “So he sustained a head injury?”
“Yes.” Patricia widened her eyes. “But the worst part is he’s also started hugging other women.Groping them in the grocery store or just wherever he is. It’s embarrassing as heck, Doc. I just need him to stop doing that. The jokes are bad enough, but he’s turning into a pervert.”
“Did you hear the one about the sneaky pervert?” Tim snorted. “They never heard him coming.”
“Oh, geez,” Patricia moaned. “Please make it stop, Doc.”
I grimaced. “I don’t think that’s possible. Not at the moment. We’d have to literally put a gag on him. From what you’ve told me about the head injury, it’s possible he has frontal lobe syndrome or FLS. It’s often caused by injury to the right side of the frontal cortex of the brain.”
“Is there medicine for it? I’m serious when I say I can’t take it. I… I don’t want to be around him anymore.” Patricia’s eyes welled with tears. “We used to have such fun together, but now… I don’t even know him anymore.”
“Don’t be a stranger,” Tim said, pointing at his wife with a goofy grin.
She looked to me, her lower lip quivering. “What do I do?”
“I can’t do much for him here. He’ll need an MRI. I’ll refer you to a specialist in Dallas. Depending on what they discover, it’s possible his condition can be treated with behavioral therapy or mood-stabilizing drugs.”
“Will he ever be the same?” she asked softly.
My heart squeezed uncomfortably as I held her gaze. I had no idea what was really wrong with Tim, but the obvious culprit was the head trauma. Still, her hopeful look had me dealing with emotions I didn’t usually experience around patients. Generally, I wasable to keep my emotional distance easily, but her hopeful expression had me squirming. Giving her platitudes went against everything I believed in, yet I felt myself inexplicably softening.
