The Doctor Rocks the Boat by Robin Hathaway Page A

County. He knew all about nature. When I was little he used to take me for long walks in the woods.”
    â€œHmm. That’s the first time I’ve heard of that.”
    â€œThere are lots of things you haven’t heard of.”
    He gave her a sidewise look. Had he detected a note of bitterness?
    They rode in silence until Jennifer spied a sign. “Pine Lake. Five miles,” she read.
    Fenimore glanced at the clock on the dashboard. One thirty. They’d made good time. They had been climbing a winding, wooded road for several miles, and Fenimore’s ears were popping. As they neared the crest, the road emerged from the woods intoan open space with a view of the mountains. A gentle haze encircled their blue caps.
    â€œNice,” murmured Jennifer.
    â€œUh-huh.” Fenimore reached for her hand and pressed it.
    With a smile she returned the pressure.
    Perhaps he
had
been taking her for granted lately. He would make up for it in the future. “I’m glad you came,” he said.
    Spring may have been hiding her face, but her scents were strong as they stepped out of the car. The air was pungent with the smell of growing things.
    â€œThe last thing I want to do is go see a doctor,” Fenimore grumbled.
    â€œAs soon as you’re done we’ll go for a walk,” Jennifer promised. “And I’ll teach you about the birds and the flowers—”
    â€œWhat about the bees?” He cast her a lascivious look.
    â€œCome on.” She grabbed his hand. “Let’s get this over with.”

CHAPTER 12
    T he receptionist did not look as perky as she had sounded. And she was older. About sixty. She ordered Fenimore to the back recesses of the office and told him to get undressed. Jennifer took a seat in the waiting room and tried to concentrate on an article on fly-fishing in
Field & Stream.
    While waiting for Dr. Burton to make his appearance, Fenimore, clad in only a hospital gown, shivered and tried to read
Time
with a picture of Saddam Hussein on the cover. Was there some secret medical code requiring outdated magazines and Arctic temperatures in examining rooms? If there was, he and Doyle didn’t abide by it. Their examining room was toasty warm and their magazines were hot off the press (well, mostly). Another part of the code was to keep the patient waiting for at least twenty minutes so he could work up a good case of nerves and high blood pressure before seeing the doctor. After all, it would be such a waste if the doctor found nothing wrong with the patient.
    Fenimore, although feeling fit as a fiddle when he arrived, now suffered from symptoms ranging from headache to shortness of breath to rapid heartbeat. Of course, this could be the onset of hypothermia. He glanced at his watch. Only five minutes had passed.By the code, he still had fifteen minutes to go. Now would be a good time to snatch a peek at the Ashburn file. (Besides, it might be warmer in the file room. It was important to keep all those medical records comfortable.) He slid off the examining table and opened the door a crack. He had seen a nurse enter a room across the hall, carrying a pile of manila folders. After glancing up and down the hall, he padded barefoot to the door and tried the knob. It turned. He ducked inside. It
was
warmer here. Quite comfortable, in fact. His teeth even stopped chattering. He scanned the filing cabinets that lined the walls. All were labeled PATIENT FILES . Fortunately, the habit of computer filing had not reached this rural, upstate neighborhood. Each drawer was labeled alphabetically. The top drawer of the first cabinet read A–C . Cautiously, he pulled it out. Locating the Ashburn file easily, he was leafing through it when he heard footsteps in the hall.
    â€œDr. Fenimore?” The nurse was looking for him.
    He had replaced the file and shut the drawer before the door opened. The nurse stared at him.
    â€œSorry,” he mumbled, “I was looking