A Stallion's Touch
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Deborah Fletcher Mello
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15,9K
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15
Prologue
Injection Bar was congested, overrun with medical students from Tulane University School of Medicine. The staff was working harder than normal to keep up. Tarah Boudreaux hated to add to the confusion but lifted her hand for the bartender’s attention. He was tall and blond with strong Nordic features and long windblown locks, and his denim jeans and bright white T-shirt fit like a glove. He tossed her a responsive nod and gestured with his index finger. Tarah gave him a bright smile and turned her attention back to the makeshift stage.
It was the third Friday in March, Match Day. The day when graduating medical students nationwide discovered the hospital residency programs they’d been paired with to complete their graduate medical training. Tarah had interviewed with five medical facilities across the United States and although she had narrowed the list down to her top two favorites, she would gladly have gone wherever the wind blew her.
She and her fellow classmates were following a time-honored tradition, announcing the hospitals they’d been matched with over the bar’s sound system. She clapped as another student with fire-engine-red hair and a lumberjack beard jumped excitedly when they called his name and waved him to the front.
“One Corona with a wedge of lime!” the bartender suddenly said, shouting over the noise into her ear.
Tarah jumped slightly, her smile still bright as she took the beer bottle from his hand. “Thanks, Milton! Put it on my brother’s tab, please?”
Milton laughed. “Kendrick said he’s not covering your bill any more, Tarah! You know that.”
Tarah rolled her eyes. “Today’s special! It’ll be okay! I promise!”
Milton shook his head. “I swear, girl, you are going to get me fired one day.”
Tarah giggled. “Thank you, Milton!” She gave him a wink of her eye, her lengthy lashes batting teasingly.
He nodded. “Congratulations! And tell your folks I said hello.”
Turning herself back around, Tarah settled into the nervous energy that filled the room. It had taken her nine years to get to this point. Four years of college and five years of medical school—including the two semesters that she’d had to repeat for partying too much—were culminating in this moment.
The Dean of Student Affairs suddenly called her name, waving a white envelope in his hand. Her classmates all cheered, and Tarah felt her knees begin to shake. She chugged back what remained of her bottled brew, then slid off the bar stool and sauntered to the microphone.
Every eye in the room was on her, and she could feel her hand shaking as the dean slid the envelope onto her palm. She took a deep breath and then a second as she slid her thumb beneath the sealed flap and pulled the typed letter from inside. Someone in the back suddenly called her name.
“Get it, Tarah!” And the whole room erupted with a uniform cheer.
She grinned as she quickly read the letter’s contents, and then her smile widened considerably. “Phoenix Hope Surgical Center!” she screamed, jumping up and down excitedly. “I’m going to Arizona!”
The room cheered with her as she rushed back to her seat to hug her friends. As the next person’s name was called, Tarah was still squealing with joy. She’d been matched with her first choice, and she couldn’t have been happier.
* * *
Katherine Boudreaux hugged her tightly, and Tarah melted into her mother’s warm embrace. “We are so proud of you, Tarah!” the matriarch exclaimed.
Tarah’s father, Mason “Senior” Boudreaux, echoed the sentiment. “My baby girl is going to be a surgeon! Hot damn!” he proclaimed as he wiped a tear from his eye.
Tarah was still grinning brightly. “I’m going to Phoenix! It’s the best surgical center and teaching hospital in the nation. And I’ll be training with Dr. Harper! He’s the neurosurgeon of neurosurgeons!” she said, referring to her medical mentor, whose visit to Tulane had inspired Tarah to consider Phoenix Hope in the first place.
Her mother gave her one last squeeze before letting her go. “We need to call the rest of the family to let them know your good news.”
“We could just wait until they come for graduation,” Tarah said, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “Or maybe just send a group text?”
The matriarch tossed her daughter a look. “Nonsense. This is good news. We need to let them all know, personally! Besides, it gives me a reason to call and check on everyone,” Katherine said as she took the telephone receiver into her hand and began to dial.
Tarah turned her attention to her father. “And I can stay at the house in Phoenix, right? That way I won’t need to find an apartment or worry about rent!”
Her father eyed her with a raised brow. The house in Phoenix that she was referring to was the Paradise Valley estate that was actually owned by her oldest brother, Mason Boudreaux III. Mason had bought the property a few short months after Hurricane Katrina when their family had been displaced from their Louisiana home. They’d all lived in Arizona for two years while their Broadway Street property and the city of New Orleans had been rebuilt. Leaving Phoenix had been bittersweet, but Louisiana would forever be home as far as her family was concerned.
Senior lifted his gaze back to her eager stare. “I don’t know about all that. Now that the real estate market has finally started to come back around, your brother has been thinking about selling that house. He and Phaedra like living in Dallas. I don’t see them going back there, and we definitely won’t be moving back to Arizona any time soon.”
“I’ll ask him. Mason will let me stay.”
“That house is too big for you to be living in by yourself,” Katherine noted, her hand cupped over the receiver of the telephone. “We’ll find you a nice studio near the hospital.”
Tarah shifted her gaze skyward. “I’m sure I can find a roommate or two or three.”
Senior’s gaze narrowed. “Now, that’s never going to happen. You and your doctor friends will not be tearing up that house like it’s a party palace.”
Katherine interjected, “I know that idea didn’t just come out of her mouth!”
“Can we at least discuss it?” Tarah shifted her gaze from one parent to the other.
Both answered at the same time, “NO!”
Tarah blew a heavy sigh past her lips. “I’m going to bed, then,” she said as she turned and headed toward the door. “But I’m still calling Mason tomorrow to ask,” she said.
“The answer is still no!” Senior called after her.
Behind her, Tarah could hear her mother’s laughter. “That’s your child. You’re the reason she’s so spoiled,” Katherine said.
“Leave my baby girl alone! That child is just perfect!” her father countered.
* * *
Upstairs in her bedroom, Tarah pinched herself, still in awe of how sweetly things had played out. She’d been accepted into the best teaching hospital in the nation. Phoenix Hope’s surgical program was in a league of its own, and the prospect of completing her medical training there was a dream come true. And to think, they’d chosen her from the thousands of applicants who’d wanted this opportunity just as much as she had. Tears welled hot behind her lids as the magnitude of that fact settled over her.
Sometimes perceived as spoiled and overindulged, Tarah, with her carefree spirit, didn’t often reflect on how seriously she’d taken her medical training. Tarah had wanted to be a doctor since she was six years old and her favorite pediatrician mended her broken arm with a pink cast and a cherry lollipop. Deciding to pursue a surgical vocation had come after a strenuous medical rotation that involved a heart transplant for an aspiring cellist. With the young man’s future renewed on the celebration of his eighteenth birthday, the knowledge that she’d had a part in it made the decision the easiest of her career. From that moment forward, Tarah had buckled down. Her studies were all that mattered.
After a quick shower, she pulled her shoulder-length curls into a tight bun and tied a silk scarf around her head. As she set her alarm clock, she swiped a hand across her face, wiping away the one tear that had finally fallen over her cheek. Minutes later, when her mother peeked in to check on her, Tarah was kneeling at the side of her bed, saying a prayer of gratitude toward the sky.
