The Heartbalm Effect: Book One in the Medicine Women of Alaska Series

By Denise Gwen

Rachel Levange is treating her one-year residency at the hardscrabble Alaskan clinic as a stop on her way to the Mayo, before she meets handsome Doctor Paul Livingston, and everything changes. She struggles between two conflicting desires, a career and love. How will she ever work it all out?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Denise Gwen
• Release date: Jul 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005711733

Denise Gwen

Denise Gwen writes!!!

Book preview

Prologue

Fairbanks, Alaska

Dr. Rachel Levange.

Paul Livingston stood in the doorway, looked out at all the hopeful medical students—knowing full well not one of them wanted to practice at his clinic—and called out the name of the next applicant on the list. Thinking that he hadn’t been heard, he repeated the name.

Dr. Rachel Levange.

An attractive girl with strawberry-blonde hair—slender, and of medium height—stood up and walked toward him, gazing directly at him as she approached. His senses went on high alert. She radiated a barely contained sexuality, her hips swaying ever so slightly as she drew near to him and then stopped.

You called my name. I’m Dr. Rachel Levange.

I’m Dr. Livingston, the director of the Juneau Alaska Medical Clinic and also the Hoonah Tlingit Reservation Medical Clinic, he said in greeting, extending his right hand.

Pleased to meet you, she said coolly, holding out her hand to shake.

Despite the lack of a smile, her grip struck him as strong and firm, and he took comfort from it. Her voice left a taste of velvet in his mouth, and her eyes sparkled blue. The handshake lasted a second too long, and he gazed, mesmerized, into those shocking blue irises.

For one long moment, Dr. Rachel Levange made him forget he’d ever been married to a woman who’d once told him he meant everything to her. She then betrayed him, divorced him, and married his nemesis and former friend, who was now the head of surgery at Fairbanks Memorial. For one long moment, Dr. Rachel Levange helped Paul forget the ex-wife, who presently stood not more than ten feet away from him, ignoring him, and calling out the name of the next applicant on her list of interviewees for a coveted position in her medical practice.

He forced himself to remain in the moment. He turned on his heel and gestured to the small office assigned to him for the day’s round of interviews.

Please, come in.

Thank you.

She walked into the cramped office and sat down on the solitary chair.

He tucked the clipboard under his arm, closed the office door behind him, and sat down in the chair, his heart heavy. He sensed this candidate wasn’t going to work out. He’d been running this clinic for five years, and he’d seen many residents come and go. He’d always held out the hope one of them would fall as much in love with this remote section of the Alaskan wilderness as he had, but thus far, no one had stuck.

All business, he said, Dr. Levange, you have an impressive curriculum vita.

I suppose so.

He pushed her curriculum vitae to one side and folded his arms across his chest. So, tell me. What made you choose my clinic for your residency?

I’m out of options, she blurted out, and her cheeks flared scarlet.

Well, he said sarcastically. I must say, I do appreciate your brutal honesty.

Geezil Petes, I’m sorry. That was incredibly rude of me.

Well, yes, yes it was. But it was nice of you to apologize.

I can’t believe I said that.

"This was going nowhere.

I take it, Fairbanks Memorial was your first choice?

Yes, of course, she said, waving her hand distractedly as if to say, Fairbanks Memorial is everyone’s first choice.

A lot of people want to do their residencies at Fairbanks, Paul conceded.

An unbelievable number of people, that’s why I didn’t even make the first cut. I’m wait-listed.

She sounded genuinely put out.

A little of his former annoyance returned. This uppity female was getting on his nerves. It took him a moment to process why it bothered him so much, then it hit him. This young doctor was so pleased with herself and her perceived abilities, it’d offended her not to make the first cut at Fairbanks.

I take it, then, he said dryly. "Juneau was your second choice."

Actually, Juneau’s way down on my list. I think it’s tenth.

I’m delighted you saw fit to interview with me.

She gazed at him, and again, despite his irritation, she struck him to the core with her piercing blue eyes.

I’m being a terrible snot, aren’t I?

He nodded.

Yes, she said sadly, but chuckled. I’m being a terrible snot. Matter of fact, I had to look Juneau up on a map. Until I saw your listing, I’d never heard of this clinic before in my life.

I’m getting all warm and squishy inside.

She smiled again. She knocked him off-guard by the sweetness of her manner.

If we’re being brutally honest here, I’ve gotta tell you. The Mayo Clinic was my first choice, but I didn’t make the first cut, and so I’m on the waiting list.

Mayo Clinic, hm?

Yes, it’s where my father wanted me to practice, and it’s got the additional advantage of being close to my hometown.

So, the minute Mayo calls, you’ll be packing your bags, right? he asked evenly.

I’m terribly sorry.

To her credit, she did look a bit contrite.

No matter, he said, tossing the clipboard onto the desk. I’m planning to install a revolving door at the front entrance, just so the residents know how quickly they can leave.

Oh.

A silence filled the space between them.

Anyway, as you’re here, I may as well tell you about the clinic . . . especially if you find it within yourself to come practice with us.

Oh, well sure.

Well, that’s what I call a rousing recommendation.

He launched into his spiel.

I founded the Juneau Medical Clinic five years ago, with a grant from the Federal Government and with some private money from investors.

Oh, I see.

We provide full medical services to all the local people. And I take the ferry out once a month to take care of my patients at the Tlingit reservation in Hoonah.

Once a month?

Yes, I prefer to see my patients at the clinic, but once every month or so, I head out to the Tlingit reservation to treat those members of the tribe who either can’t afford to drive down to the clinic, or who can’t physically manage the trip.

Do you perform surgery there?

Yes, but only with a local anesthetic. If the patient requires surgery with a general, then I ship them out to the main hospital.

To Fairbanks Memorial? Where Dr. Frank Sturgess runs the surgery unit?

Yes, he said tersely, bristling at the name of his former friend. "You’ll get a first-rate experience at the Juneau Clinic, if you elect to do your residency here."

As I said before, she continued, apparently unaware she’d offended him. I’m on the wait-list for Mayo, and I’m also interviewing at Fairbanks Memorial—there’s an opening in the pediatric oncology unit—but I do appreciate getting the chance to meet you, Dr. Livingston.

Well, that’s what I call a bum’s rush out the door. At least she had good manners. And she’s pretty. She’s mighty pretty, too.

He rose to his feet the same moment she did, and they shook hands earnestly across the particle-wood desk. Clearly, she was giving him the brush-off. It was one of those thanks-for-the-interview-at-your-pitiful-little-clinic-but-I’d-much-rather-practice-with-the-big-boys-if-it’s-all-the-same-to-you-Doc.

The words, unspoken, hovered in his mind. He knew perfectly well that when the letter of acceptance arrived in the mail, she’d send a polite, but firm, rejection. Such a shame, too, because she was the most attractive woman, he’d met in . . . well, in a long time.

He walked her to the door and watched as she returned to her seat. She had one more interview to go, with his ex-wife, for the pediatric oncology opening at Fairbanks Memorial.

He stood in the waiting room and called out the name of the third—and last—candidate to apply for the Juneau Medical Clinic.

Nothing.

He called out the name again, a bit louder this time.

A secretary hurried forward.

Oh, Dr. Livingston, that applicant withdrew his name.

Oh.

"Of course.

His ex-wife walked her latest applicant out of the interview room and called out the name of the next.

Dr. Levange?

Yes?

Rachel Levange rose gracefully from her chair and walked over to greet Anna.

Nice to meet you, Anna said. Please, come this way, Dr. Levange.

Feeling like a chump, and, helpless to stop himself, Paul watched as Dr. Levange followed Anna into the interview room. But then a curious thing happened. Dr. Levange stopped at the door, turned her head, and smiled at him.

Wow, oh wow.

Struck by the lethal intensity of those sharp blue eyes, he wondered and hoped, sincerely hoped, he’d get the chance to see her again.

But then again, who was he kidding, right?

Chapter One

Six months later, mid-January,

Juneau Medical Clinic, Alaska

Rachel Levange’s heart hammered in her throat as she navigated her way up the treacherous, snow-covered hill. When she reached the crest, she looked down to her left. Below her, in all its adorable authenticity, stood the quaintly restored downtown village of Juneau.

After she left the interstate, she wandered and got a little bit lost, found her way again, and got lost again before finding her way back onto the proper road to Juneau. And it wasn’t until she hit the bumpy road that she realized she’d forced her poor bladder to strain itself beyond normal human limits.

As she gazed down at the village scene, at the tourists milling around who were enjoying this surprisingly balmy day, she wondered why the doctor who’d interviewed her back in Fairbanks had behaved as if Juneau was such a nondescript little nonentity. From what little she’d seen, albeit in the achingly authentic, and touristy, downtown, Juneau struck her as simply adorable.

She wandered around the area and noticed three restaurants, a couple of gift shops, a diehard hiker outfitters store, a drycleaner, a tour office with various adventure packages, a realty office offering gorgeous chalets with unparalleled views of Mt. Denali, and an upscale women’s clothing shop. If it weren’t for the snow and cold, she’d think she was wandering around downtown Gatlinburg from back in the day before it became too touristy and trashy.

Even so, Juneau knew how to pile on the sizzle, for outside one of the gift shops, right beside the front door, stood a fourteen-foot-tall stuffed grizzly bear. A genuine point of interest where tourists snapped photos and children ran between the grizzly’s legs, screaming and laughing.

Better not try that with a real grizzly, kids. He might not respond with as much equanimity as this one.

She warmed herself and gained a measure of sustenance at the Runcible Spoon, a cozy coffee shop, where she ordered a large soy latté. She also took a much-needed pee break.

She walked back to her car, smiling to herself. She pressed on the gas and eased up the hill toward the Juneau Medical Clinic. The sign said she’d arrived, yet she noted, she hadn’t. She drove up first one hill then another before the ground leveled off and she found herself suddenly in a parking lot, gazing up at the ugliest building she’d ever seen.

Surely, this isn’t the clinic?

A nondescript concrete block building painted a hideous yellow glowered down at her with an ugly sneer. Why’d they design the clinic in such a clumsy way? Why’d they dump the industrial garage at the front entrance?

I shouldn’t be so judgmental. We’re out in the wilderness, and there must be considerations other than beauty. I only hope the clinic itself cares a little more over its appearance.

She drove through the parking lot and weaved around to the right, caught a driveway that took her to what she believed was the clinic behind the garage, but when she reached the end of the drive and saw nothing, she pulled up short and stopped, first in surprise, then in shock.

What the heck?

Behind the industrial garage . . . was nothing but more parking lot.

Then she looked at the sign above the side door.

JUNEAU MEDICAL CLINIC—SERVICE ENTRANCE—PLEASE RING BELL

Oh, dear. This hideous, ugly building . . . is the clinic.

Chapter Two

Nurse Margie Winters rapped on his office door and peeked inside. Dr. Livingston, the new resident has arrived.

Paul set aside the lab report he’d been reading, leaned back in his chair, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

How many, did you say again?

Just the one.

We get fewer and fewer every year. I wonder sometimes why I even bother asking the medical school to send me any. I train them, and then watch them leave at the end of their residency.

Please don’t talk that way.

Why? Do you hate my being negative?

That, and a practical reason, as well.

What’s that?

If you close this clinic, I’m out of a job.

I’ll be out of a job soon, if we don’t get more funding. Paul glanced up at her. Where is he?

"He’s a she, and she’s waiting out by the nurses’ station."

Okay. He reached for his eyeglasses. Let’s get this over with.

That’s the spirit, Margie said dryly.

Margie followed close on his heels as Paul walked up the hallway to the front entrance and the nurses’ station. He saw her before she saw him. There she perched, the newest resident to the Juneau Medical Clinic, alert, ready, waiting to meet him. He fought back a wave of irritation. It was starting to get to him, this constant revolving door of residents arriving at the clinic. They did their one-year residency as if it were a prison sentence and then abandoned the hardscrabble little medical clinic out in the remotest part of the Alaskan wilderness.

Margie interrupted his negative thoughts. Okay, there she is.

Oh, he said, surprised.

He recognized her instantly—the beautiful, but chilly, young woman he’d met six months earlier.

He stopped stock-still in the hallway and stared. Was it his imagination, or was she even more stunning than he’d remembered?

Rachel perched on a stool behind the nurses’ station desk. She waited with apprehension for Nurse Winters to return with Dr. Livingston. Her initial shock had worn off and she’d grown easier when she realized the interior looked nothing like the outside. It had all the amenities of a real medical center.

She cast her thoughts back to her interview with Dr. Livingston and winced with shame. She’d given off an unpleasant attitude during the interview. She hoped, by being her most professional self now, that Dr. Livingston would like her well enough to let her stay on.

When she received the offer of employment in in the mail, it’d spurred her to study up on Dr. Livingston. She’d learned a great deal concerning the hermit-like physician who ran this odd little clinic out in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. He impressed her with his tenacity and his drive, and while she didn’t want to stay here any longer than necessary, she also didn’t want to alienate the man.

After all, I may need him as a reference when I re-apply at Mayo.

She’d been so disappointed when they turned her down, but her academic advisor suggested she go ahead and take her year’s training out in Juneau and re-apply at Mayo after she’d gained a year’s experience. If she got hired on at Mayo, she’d reassure her parents she wasn’t throwing her medical career away by accepting a position at a second-rate clinic.

I’ve got a lot riding on this. I can’t afford to blow it.

Even so, the place was sadly run down.

She glanced up at the peeling paint on the concrete walls, and her spirits plummeted. Heck, this place was easily a third or fourth best kind of place. It’d have to put on a lot of spit and polish just to get a second-place ranking.

Her dad, a top-ranked surgeon at Omaha Memorial Hospital, had been horrified at her abdication from the family firm. Dad had promised her a coveted position at the hospital, if only she’d join the ranks, but she’d wanted to make it on her own terms. Unfortunately, doing things on her own terms wasn’t working out as well as she’d hoped. Better not tell Dad anything at all, at least not until after