Heart's Desire. Catherine Lanigan

It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir.”

      They began walking down a carpeted hallway.

      “You can drop the ‘sir.’ We aren’t all that formal around here.” Dr. Caldwell flipped through some papers in a manila folder marked with Nate’s name. “And you haven’t been in the navy for quite some time.”

      “Sorry, sir. I mean Doctor. It’s my upbringing as much as the navy.” Nate smiled.

      “I know your parents quite well, so I understand completely.”

      “They’re still old-world Italian, I’m afraid. In fact, they’re insisting I live at home with them once I move back to Indian Lake.”

      “Nothing wrong with that,” Dr. Caldwell replied, scratching his temple. “Frankly, I’d like to see a bit more of it myself.” He took a couple steps back and then waved his right arm in front of an open door. “Let’s step into my office, shall we?”

      “Thank you very much, sir. Doctor.” Nate laughed good-naturedly.

      For as austere and sparse as the waiting area was, Dr. Caldwell’s office was quite the opposite. Colorful Persian rugs covered the laminate floors. The furniture was modern and sleek, made of glass, chrome and wood. A butter-yellow leather sofa sat against the back wall with two massive, off-white leather Barcelona chairs flanking it. A squatty black vase of tropical flowers sat in the middle of a kidney-shaped coffee table. The room was lit by dozens of tiny halogen ceiling fixtures, and natural light flowed in from skylights and a very large window that looked out on Main Street where the morning traffic was building to a bustling crescendo. The sun skirted around and through huge snow clouds, which had come to perform their own kind of magic and alter the scene below. Slowly, a very light snow started to fall. From the fifth floor, the view was captivating, and as Nate gazed out across the commercial-building rooftops and toward the housetops of Maple Avenue and Lily Avenue, he realized he was eye level to the many church spires that dotted nearly every block of Indian Lake. From this height, it didn’t take much imagination to see the fantasy aspect of the town. As the snowflakes grew in size and number, they fell delicately on the grand shoulders of the Presbyterian church, creating white, lacy epaulettes. Nate had always loved all the churches of his hometown and how they stood for hundreds of years, never swerving, never capitulating or seeming to decay. Unlike many other cities or towns, the people of Indian Lake renovated, renewed and shored up their treasures. They put new foundations on their buildings, installed new roofs on their banks and fixed storefront windows. They adapted and perfected, modernized and improved, but they never destroyed the original structure, the soul of their buildings, which was part of the soul of the town. He’d forgotten how little things like that mattered to him.

      “Nice view, isn’t it?” Dr. Caldwell asked.

      “Spellbinding.”

      “Interesting you say that. I thought the same thing when I moved here. I came from New Jersey. The unpretty part of New Jersey. I was a class-A nerd in a street-gang-infested world. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

      “Is that why you joined the navy as well, sir?”

      “It is. Best move I ever made. I fell in love with Chicago the minute I walked off the bus. But once I got married and left the navy, we started looking around for a small town. You know, to raise kids and all. We came here on a winter vacation, actually, and stayed four days. Everyone was so friendly and we loved all the little shops and cafés. My wife and I were hooked. I’ve always wanted to live in a small town.”

      “Funny. When I was growing up here, I couldn’t wait to leave. See the world. Have an adventure.”

      Dr. Caldwell laughed and sat in his black leather desk chair. He leaned back in the chair and watched the falling snow. “I had plenty of adventure. Persian Gulf. I was fortunate enough to be part of the launch of the Sullivan to the Mediterranean Sea on August 12, 1995. I’ll never forget it. This was the second ship, Nate, to be named for the Sullivan family, who’d suffered the greatest loss of any one American family in the Second World War.”

      “I remember the story well.”

      Dr. Caldwell smiled to himself. “I was lucky. I sailed over half my naval career. How about you?”

      “Not so much. I spent most of my navy years in and around the Great Lakes. I signed up as a corpsman and worked at the Great Lakes Naval Hospital while I received my training. I didn’t mind it so much, though. I used my time wisely. I took advantage of the extracurricular college classes. I took every class that was a requirement for premed. By the time I finished my service, I had three years of credits piled up. I went to Northwestern on the GI Bill and finished up my undergrad. Then I got more loans for medical school and stayed on at Northwestern. I rejoined the navy as a doctor after med school and completed my internship and surgical residency. I finished my cardiology residency at Northwestern as well. As you know, I’m finishing up my year-long contract at an Indian reservation in Arizona, which pays off the bulk of my loans. I’ll still have a bit of debt, but it’ll be manageable.”

      “No family?”

      “No, sir. I have a single-track mind and I wanted to get myself set up in medicine before I took on that kind of responsibility. Frankly, taking care of me was just about all I could handle.”

      “Smart man,” Dr. Caldwell replied.

      Nate glanced outside at the spires that poked through the frosty cotton quilt that nature was spreading across the town and wondered why the scene tugged at him. Nostalgia, probably. “Thanks.”

      “These letters of recommendation from Northwestern, from your commanding officers, the other naval doctors you’ve worked with and the head of the Hopi and Navajo tribes attest to the fact that you’re quite a gifted heart surgeon, Dr. Barzonni. Imagine what you could do here with all our new equipment.”

      “I’m very excited about working with the cold beam laser. I got my initiation at Northwestern when I was doing ablations with Dr. Henry Klein. Do you know him?”

      “Haven’t had the pleasure.”

      “He’s been my mentor for years,” Nate replied, his words laced with respect.

      Nate was extremely grateful for the guidance and friendship Dr. Klein had given him. Nate was also aware that the man looked upon him almost as family.

      Nate continued. “Dr. Klein is the one who talked me into doing work on the reservation. Not only was the program government run and would pay a good chunk of my student loans, but he said I needed to get my hands away from the luxuries of big-city methods and equipment. He wanted me to learn how to use my instincts. Listen to my gut when dealing with patients. He wanted me to treat the patient not just the disease. My entire perspective on life changed. Thanks to him and my time on the reservation, I believe I found my calling.”

      “Interesting. Is that what he did? Work on a reservation?”

      “No. He spent five years in Kenya.”

      Dr. Caldwell whistled. “When was this?”

      “It was back in the eighties, when the AIDS epidemic was rampant. Not that it isn’t now.”

      “Sounds like a good man. I’d like to meet him.” Dr. Caldwell steepled his fingers, placed his lips against them and considered Nate. “Do you mind my asking why you aren’t going back to Chicago and working with Dr. Klein? I’m sure he wants you.”

      “He does. Desperately, in fact.

      “I’ll be frank if I may. I have an offer from Dr. Klein. But working in Chicago or at any big-name hospital, where I’m just another rat in the pack, isn’t what I want anymore. I want to go back to Arizona and work on the reservations out there. There’s an incredible need and I believe I can fill it. But to do that, I need the experience with cold laser beam surgeries.”

      “And that’s why you need me?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “So,