Doctor Clause (Doctors of Eastport General)

Chapter One

Stephen

Owning a Jeep was a lifestyle choice; one which was only fully understood after the purchase was completed. The moment a person slid in the driver’s seat, the call of the wild rushed through their veins, regardless of the location. Off road, in the city, it was all the same. Anywhere was the next safari, a jungle, or an unexpected expedition, despite whether it involved hours of driving, or just a twenty-minute jaunt to work.

With the top off, wind tousled hair, freeing the spirit. With it on, raging elements were no more than bugs squished on the windshield.

All terrain.

All weather.

All year round.

There were those who opted for a cherry-red sports car to fill a certain void in their lives. He opted for the same colour, but with the freedom of four-wheel drive.

Mid-life crisis be damned.

As a doctor, he knew: the feeling of adventure was enough to quell any of those symptoms before they reared their ugly heads.

Then there was the club which came complete with a secret handshake, so to speak. It was actually more of a wave, which consisted of two to four fingers extending upward from the steering wheel. Some thought the practise stemmed from soldiers returning from the war; the hand signal an acknowledgement of one another’s service. The more modern version was much more simple; drivers offering a sign of respect to other Jeep lovers as they passed. Both were worthy explanations.

Sometime after that came the ducks.

The story behind the phenomena, which caught on like wildfire, began with one woman and a random act of kindness. She bought a bag of rubber ducks in a store and, out of goodwill, attached a small note to it which read, Nice Jeep. Have a Great Day, thereafter placing the duck in a door handle, where it waited to be discovered. When the little squeaker was found, the Jeep’s owner immediately went to the same store as the woman, purchasing a bag of ducks of his own to pay-it-forward.

A few years later, Jeep dashboards everywhere were proudly sporting rubber ducks in every style and outfit imaginable.

Unfortunately, his ducks were all the same and a type he’d never put on display—Santa ducks. They came in every size and colour, but they all had one thing in common: each sported the red hat with a white trim and a pompom, known worldwide as the Christmas cap. There were variations, of course, some sported a knitted scarf, others sunglasses; there were tiny presents attached, stockings, bells, wreaths, poinsettias, the nice list, or the naughty list. If it had anything remotely to do with the holidays, he’d seen it in duck form.

If it ended at that, things would have been fine. But, it hadn’t. There was more. Notes came with the bath toys he received, mostly from women, and all with a phone number, or an apartment number in his building, included.

Join me for some Christmas cheer.

I’ve been real naughty. Punish me.

Let me show you how good I can be.

You’re what I really want under my tree.

Can I be your milk and cookies?

If I was the Grinch, I wouldn’t steal Christmas, I’d steal you.

Have you ever done it in a sleigh?

I bet you have the stamina of a jolly, round man, capable of delivering joy all night long.

Keep an eye out for elves with ropes and a blindfold, because I’m asking for you this Christmas.

If it was a Christmas pickup line, he’d been ducked with it. Because of that, the second he saw or heard a cheesy come-on he bolted in the other direction, which was probably a major factor in the reason why he was still single. In fact, dating wasn’t on the radar at all when the sleigh and tiny reindeer were.

Stephen hopped behind the wheel, tossing a handful of rubber duckies into a bin in the back seat. The moment Halloween was over, his dash and door handles filled with the things, and all because his last name was Clause and his first initial was S.

All his life there’d been torment over that name. No one cared the S stood for Stephen and not Santa. No one noticed the E on the end of Clause. People saw what they wanted to, especially when it came to the holidays. Because of that, the most wonderful time of the year was the absolute worst for him. There’d even been an occasion when he was bullied by classmates for not delivering the right presents, albeit, that took place during his childhood.

As an adult, people around him expected jolliness. That was difficult enough. Then there was the whole goodwill toward men thing. If there was a job which needed a volunteer, if there was a charity event needing a host, if there was a shift which needed covering, he was always the one looked to.

Bah Humbug!

This year he’d decided. If the S in his name wasn’t standing for Stephen, it was going to be for Scrooge.

A quiet holiday was in the cards for once. No one was standing in his way.