Other Side of Love (A Different Kind of Love Book 5)

by Liz Durano

  Before I knew it, five minutes turned to ten and then ten turned into two hours. Sarah’s dark blue eyes and fiery passion intrigued me as she advocated for the imaginary patient she and her friend were assigned to treat for a case study who happened to be Navajo. While her friend was all for drugs, Sarah wanted to know the why’s of the patient’s illness. Family history, current diet, and nutrition. She even included their culture even if the things she said were probably lifted off some history book she just read.

  “Let’s say they’re hooked on those fry breads that we all know about, the ones that we drizzle with honey and sugar–”

  “Navajo tacos!” Her friend exclaimed as Sarah nodded.

  “Did you know that flour, sugar, and lard were never a normal part of the Native American’s diet?” Sarah continued. “It was given to them by the government when they were forced into the reservation. What the heck can you make with all that flour, lard, and sugar and nothing else? The stuff was also rotten and old. So they got creative, and that’s how fry bread came to be.”

  “You make it sound like they had a choice,” I’d said and they both looked in my direction as if just realizing I’d never left. “I wouldn’t say that they’re ‘hooked’ on fry bread, certainly not back then. It was either that or starvation and as it were, thousands had already died along the way. Before they were forced from their lands to go on the Long Walk to Hwéeldi, the Place of Suffering, my people grew their own vegetables and beans and basically had a very healthy diet. Thanks to all that flour, lard, and sugar they gave us, and the fact that we’re given land that’s not exactly sustainable except for uranium or coal, diabetes, hypertension, and obesity have been on the rise among my people for as long as fry bread came to be.”

  I can’t forget the look I got from her as she lifted her chin and said, “Excuse me, but who the hell are you?”

  “Benjamin Turner, Ma’am,” I replied. “Navajo, or as we call ourselves, Diné.”

  “But you’re not really full Navajo, are you?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she brought her hand to her jaw. “You don’t look…”

  “My mother is full Navajo or Diné and my father’s Caucasian… with a bit of Spanish mixed in there as well,” I replied, pointing to my beard. “What about you?”

  There was that chin tilt again. “New Mexican. Proud and true.”

  Her friend looked at her, frowning. “But your dad’s a New Yorker. You’re only half.”

  “I grew up here, so that makes me New Mexican,” Sarah said defiantly as her friend shrugged.

  I don’t even remember her friend’s name—Amy or Alannah or Allison—for all I saw was Sarah. It felt like I’d been hit by a bolt of lightning whenever she looked at me, meeting my gaze boldly. Not a lot of women on campus did that and I liked that about her. Smart, feisty, proud.

  But there was something different with the Sarah I saw at the clinic. There was still that feisty part of her, true, but there was also something else that I can’t place, an undercurrent I saw only once before, the last night she and I were together.

  Regret? Shame?

  Whatever it was, I’d never know for the entire time Sarah cleaned up my wound, she never looked me in the eye. The doctor was also busy talking about side-effects although I barely heard what he was saying. I just wanted Sarah to lift her gaze and look at me, really look at me. But she never did. As far as everyone at the clinic was concerned, we’d never met before today.

  The moment the other nurse entered the room, Sarah got up and left and my sour mood returned immediately. It worsened when I emerged from the back office, my arm stitched and wrapped in a bandage, and I spotted Colton in the waiting room typing away on his laptop.

  Whose idea was it for me to mentor this kid again, and so soon after I got back from being out on the field for the last three weeks? I needed a break, for crying out loud, not some city kid to babysit around the reservation.

  And what was the deal with me letting him get behind the wheel when the kid easily panicked at the sight of a coyote? And panic he did, drove us right over the damn embankment and we’re lucky all we got was a gash in my arm and a bump on my head.

  But as Colton and I step outside and head back to the work truck, its bumper sitting in the flatbed, I really can’t complain. It got us into the clinic where I ran into Sarah Drexel two years after she decided we couldn’t be friends anymore.

  At the office, I change my shirt and get to work. I really don’t have much to do, just a bunch of reports to review for tomorrow’s meeting and phone calls to make. There’s also a call I need to return from my mother who left a message ten minutes ago. She and my stepfather live in the Navajo Nation with my half-twin brothers Tahoma and Tsela. Up until two months ago, my half-sister Marjorie lived there, too, but she’s since moved into her own apartment near the Diné College where she’s working on a degree in Elementary Education with a major in Diné Studies. Like Noelle Descheney, Marjorie wants to stay in the Navajo Nation.

  At the thought of my ex-girlfriend, I glance at my phone, my thumb hovering over my mother’s cell phone number. There’s actually no reception at home but whenever she drives into town, she finds the best spot to make her calls. Right about now, she should be at the store waiting for me to call her back in case I’m available. I know she wishes I lived back on the homestead with her but with all the work and traveling I do, often on short notice, living in the city is a more ideal arrangement for me.

  But as I stare at her phone number on the display, I know I’m delaying the inevitable. I already know what she’s going to say if I call her back right now and if I don’t, when I come home.

  Have you called Noelle yet? It’s been four weeks since you told me you were going to get back together and finally ask her to marry you. It’s been six years, Benny. The poor girl can’t wait forever.

  I exhale. Of course, Mother’s got a point. And it’s not just Noelle who’s been waiting for me to make up my mind. It’s both our families who have known each other for generations. We basically grew up together. She even taught me how to dance and sure enough, I ended up dancing in one of the Navajo Nation fairs with her. I was only ten then and she was nine, but no one will let us live that one down. We’ve been matched ever since.

  But just because everyone else thought we were a perfect match didn’t mean Noelle and I felt the same way—or that’s what I’ve told myself every time I’ve suggested we cool off. Back then, she knew my desire to go to college and be just like my late dad who was an engineer for a company in Roswell. And it wasn’t just me. Noelle wanted to go to college, too, earn her degree in Diné studies and return to the reservation to teach the native kids. And so right after high school, we agreed to put education first. We weren’t seriously dating then but we were exclusive enough. But we also knew that we could be the first ones from our families to finish college and that’s exactly what happened.

  That’s when we became exclusive—in a way—but also on and off since I attended college in Florida and it wasn’t really easy to be completely “on.” After college, I went straight to grad school and she did, too.

  Only this time, I can’t blame the delay on education. I’ve taken every damn thing I could take. I’ve got a Doctorate now and it’s time to go to work. It’s also time to get married and have kids. I’m twenty-nine and Noelle is a year younger than me. High time to get married, as Mother would say every time I came home to help around the homestead. When Noelle gave me the ultimatum two months ago—propose or break up—I chose the latter. I wasn’t ready then and I’m still not ready.

  So why the hell did I tell my entire family that I’d get back with Noelle and finally ask her to marry me four weeks ago? Sure, I got tired of them asking the same question every time I went home but that didn’t mean I had to say something I didn’t mean. Or maybe I did then, my desire to be the good son and Navajo overtaking every rational thought. Too bad rational thought is hard to come by right now, too, not when all I can think a
bout is Sarah and what she’s doing on the reservation, of all places. Exhaling, I put my phone back inside my desk drawer. I’ll call Mother later.

  By noon, the arm that got the tetanus vaccine starts to throb and I’m suddenly not feeling too great. I’ve got a headache and my body is hurting all over. I retrieve the paper bag the nurse gave me before I left the clinic, remembering she’d put a piece of paper that listed all the side-effects on top of the prescription strength painkillers I’m supposed to take. I never bothered to read about the side-effects but now I need to make sure it’s not my imagination.

  Most common side effects include redness and swelling around the injection site. Body aches. Fever. Headache.

  Great. Looks like I’ve got all the side-effects down pat. I rub my temples, wishing the dull throbbing would ease off. I look up to see Colton typing reports and turn off my laptop. Hell, let the kid continue working until five. I’m done.

  “You heading out early, Benny?” Tony asks as I slip my laptop into my backpack. He’s one of the specialists who works with me, a fellow Diné.

  “Yup. Gonna go home and rest. I need to be up early tomorrow for that meeting at the main office.”

  “Got someone to keep an eye on you? That’s a nasty bruise you’ve got on your forehead.”

  I scoff. “You volunteering?”

  “Heck no, man,” he says, laughing. “Get someone else. I’m taken.”

  Normally, I’d have a good comeback for Tony but not right now. I’ve got a throbbing headache. “Alright, I’m out. See you guys next week.”

  I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder. I need to head to the supermarket first before going home. With a fridge that probably only has a six-pack of beer and leftovers from last night’s dinner with the guys from work, I’m going to need to do some shopping. Either I have to figure out how to get food delivered to my apartment regularly or I need to learn how to cook.

  I curse under my breath when my arm starts to throb again during the drive to City Market on Highway 64. It’d probably be a good idea to add a painkiller or two to the list of things I need to buy. I don’t like them and hardly use them, but at this point, it doesn’t hurt to have some on hand. I’m also wishing I had someone with me just in case the doctor’s right about me having some kind of a concussion from when my head hit the dashboard. I’d refused additional tests, not when it meant having to drive to another part of the medical center to get them. Besides, with Sarah gone, the thrill was pretty much gone, too. I just wanted to get out of there.

  By the time I turn into the parking lot, my mental list of things to pick up has grown even longer. Laundry soap, dryer sheets, soup mix. Hatch green chili sauce—and the best kind at that, if they have it in case I start acting crazy and actually want to make something from scratch. But with me feeling like crap, I’ll probably just pick up a few microwave-ready meals instead.

  That’s when I see her and my heart rate speeds up. How the hell did I miss bumping into her the last two months? But that’s what happens when the last time I’ve gone shopping was over two months ago and the last three weeks I’ve been out of town.

  No longer wearing scrubs, Sarah looks great in a dark blue sleeveless top over faded jeans, her long hair falling over her shoulders as she loads her groceries in the trunk of her SUV. Her curves are to die for and our eyes meet when I park my truck in the only available spot right next to her SUV. As she scowls, I can’t stop grinning. It’s as if my facial muscles have a will of their own, matching the butterflies that suddenly come to life in my belly. Two years after she left without saying goodbye, turns out I still have a secret crush on Sarah Drexel.

  I also don’t remember a single thing I’m supposed to get inside the store. Not a damn thing.

  Chapter Three

  For someone I haven’t seen since I moved here two months ago, I suddenly can’t turn around without bumping into Benny Turner. In this case, twice on the same day. Is that why my heart is beating as if I’ve just completed a sprint?

  “Hey,” I say as he gets out of his truck. His left arm is bandaged just above the elbow, the wrap peeking from under the folded sleeve of his button-down shirt which also reveals his muscled forearm, tribal tattoos gracing his skin. As I force myself to look up, his expression looks pinched like he’s hurting. “Tetanus shot bothering you?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Standard operating procedure. It’s the big guys who usually feel the aches and pains the most.” I place the last of my purchases into the trunk of my SUV and close the door. Since I canceled my plans to drive down to Taos, it meant a trip to the supermarket as soon as I woke up from my nap to stock up on junk food and rent a DVD. Maybe some action flick or comedy, anything that will take my mind off Benny and his six-pack abs. Only that’s not exactly working because he’s right in front of me and just to be sure, I might need to go back inside and get new batteries.

  “Did you just come from the office?” I ask as Benny rubs his bandaged arm absently. “I would have thought you took the rest of the day off. That cut was nasty, and that bump on your noggin was, too.”

  “It’s nothing,” he grunts and I can’t help but chuckle. Benny hasn’t changed much even if he’s looking a bit pale. Side-effects must be hitting him hard.

  “It’s normal for patients to feel pain and even get a fever, muscle aches, nausea. Even lightheadedness,” I say. “In fact, you probably shouldn’t be driving.”

  “Nobody told me that at the clinic,” he says, frowning.

  “I’m sure they did. You just didn’t hear them.”

  Benny’s eyes narrow as he studies me, as if figuring out if I’m serious. Then he shrugs. “Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. I’m a big boy.”

  “That you are. But acetaminophen should ease the pain. Not that I’m officially diagnosing or prescribing you anything,” I say.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “What about a bit of TLC from your girlfriend?” I continue, almost saying Noelle’s name but knowing I’d be pushing it if I did. At the very least, he’s not wearing a ring. “I’m sure she could–”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  I look at Benny incredulously. Benny Turner? Single? Did hell just freeze over? What about Noelle?

  But before I can say anything else, I stop myself. It’s really none of my business if he has a girlfriend or not. I also need to stop worrying about Benny. Before we know it, I’ll be offering to make him dinner and tucking him into bed. I walk past him and pull open the driver side door of my SUV.

  “I should get going. It was nice seeing you again, Benny.” I do my best to act nonchalant even as my heart thunders inside my chest. How can two years go by and yet feel like it was yesterday when I last saw him?

  “Likewise, Sarah,” he says as I get behind the wheel.

  He closes the driver side door for me and as I slip the key in the ignition, I lower the window. “Go home and get some rest, Benny. A fever reducer and painkiller along with chicken noodle soup should do you some good, too.”

  He rests his hands on the door. “Green chili maybe?”

  I nod, gazing at his empty ring finger before forcing myself to look at his face. “Yeah, green chili stew although I’d opt for something clearer. And rest. Lots of rest.”

  For a moment Benny doesn’t speak though a faint smile lingers on his lips. Then he takes a deep breath, taps my door two times, and steps away. “Thanks for all your help, Sarah. Guess I’ll see you around,” he says, turning away from me and grabbing the basket I’d parked by the side of my SUV.

  As I turn the ignition, I know Benny’s too tough to admit he needs help. At the same time, I’ve got no excuse treating him the way I just did especially when we used to be good friends in college. I’m a nurse, for crying out loud. I’m supposed to be compassionate.

  I chuckle to myself as I start the engine. Yeah, right. Compassionate, my ass. But as I rest my hand on the gear shift, there’s no de
nying the feelings that I used to feel for Benny are now rushing back like water breaking through a dam.

  I shift the gear in reverse, reminding myself that the last thing I need is another complication in my life. The sooner I nip the idea of reconnecting with Benny in the bud, the better it is for both of us.

  So much for walking away.

  Five minutes later, I find Benny in the medicine aisle, standing between the ibuprofen and acetaminophen products and holding one in each hand. Tall and broad-shouldered, Benny has always been a sight to behold. It’s in the way he carries himself, raw confidence evident in every step and a roughness underneath the surface.

  Right now, though, it’s a different story. Benny looks tired and a bit confused as he tries to decide which bottle of pills to buy. But I can’t blame him. Benny’s not the type to rely on medication. He’s the type of man to power through broken bones and barroom brawls, two things I’ve witnessed when we were both students at UNM. But body aches and fever from a tetanus shot? Apparently not so much.

  “Alright, any more of this looking like a lost puppy and I’ll be taking you home. Why don’t we get you all sorted out?” I take the box of ibuprofen from his hand and return it to the shelf. When he doesn’t say anything, I continue, “Do you live far from here?”

  “No, but I thought you were going home.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  He shrugs. “I’m not a charity case, Sarah. I’m fine.”

  “Of course, I know that. But if you want, I can help you with whatever you need to buy and follow you to your apartment. We’ll get you settled and I’ll make you something to eat.”