Her Denali Medicine Man

by Denise Gwen

  She hovered near him. “How long were you outside in the cold?”

  “Oh, not long, not long,” he said, but his cheeks had flared pink with the bitter wind.

  “Come and sit down, will you?” she urged. “I’ll go fix us some hot chocolate.”

  She pushed Grant’s favorite armchair toward her dad, and he settled in with a heavy sigh.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  “I’m chilled to the bone,” he muttered.

  With yet one more concerned glance at her dad, she went into the kitchen and found a saucepan, put it on the stove, grabbed the milk, chocolate powder, and turned on the heat. After a few moments, the sweet aroma of hot chocolate emanated from the saucepan.

  “That sure smells good,” Dad called out to her from the family room.

  She ladled up two big mugs full and added a liberal sprinkling of marshmallows. She put the two mugs of hot chocolate onto a tray and carried it out to the family room.

  Dad had pulled off his boots and his jeans and stood in front of the electric fireplace in a pair of long johns. She fought back a flare of fear at the sight of his skinny, frail legs.

  “Here we are,” she called out in a faux hearty tone of voice, and Dad turned around and took a mug of hot chocolate off the tray and wrapped his hands around it.

  “Oh, that’s so warm,” he said.

  “Drink up,” she urged him, “there’s plenty more in the kitchen.”

  The hot chocolate, she knew, was scalding hot, but Dad drank the mugful of hot chocolate down as if it were an iced tea on a blistering hot day. “Oh my,” he said, smacking his lips, and then he started shivering.

  “Uh oh,” she said. “Dad, you’re feverish. Let’s get you bundled up.”

  “I am kind of tired,” he said, and his poor frail body shivered uncontrollably.

  Growing really frightened now, she ran to the medicine chest and grabbed a bottle of aspirin. As she tapped out three aspirin tablets into the palm of her hand, Dad handed her the now empty mug. It was so unlike her dad to be impatient. “I’ll get you some more hot chocolate in a minute, Dad,” she said.

  “Okay, Honey.”

  She handed him the tablets and he tossed them down his throat

  “Dad, I want to put you to bed right now.”

  “More hot chocolate?”

  “As soon as I get you into bed,” she promised.

  As she escorted him to the spare bedroom, she subtly checked his long johns; they were dry but cold to the touch. She found a pair of socks in a dresser drawer and put them on his feet as he sat on the edge of the bed and shivered. “You’re starting to really worry me,” she said.

  “Imagine how I feel,” he said.

  She got him between the covers, tucked him in, and returned a few moments later with a fresh cup of steaming hot chocolate.

  Dad drank down the second mug of hot chocolate and then fell asleep. She checked his forehead. He was still feverish. She checked his limbs. He was still shaking under the covers. She found a heating pad, plugged it in, and pushed it in between the fitted sheet and the mattress, and by the time she got it maneuvered back into place, Dad’s shivering had tapered off a tiny bit.

  Her heart flaring with worry, she called Rachel.

  “He’s in good hands with you,” Rachel said, with more assurance in her voice than Sarah had ever possessed in her life.

  “Are you sure?” Sarah asked, tears forming in her eyes.

  “If he’s developed pneumonia, he’s done it without your help. You caught him just in time, I think. You got the fever under control, and I’ll be on speed dial throughout the night, if you need anything.”

  “Okay,” Sarah said, and she felt a tiny bit better.

  “Paul’s bought our plane tickets,” Rachel said. “We’ll be there by the end of the week.”

  “Okay.”

  “Isn’t it funny?” Rachel asked.

  “What?”

  “You knew exactly what to do to take care of our father. He developed a chill, and then a fever, and you fed him aspirin and hot chocolate, two home remedies that Mom used when we were kids.”

  Sarah smiled. “It didn’t even take a medical degree.”

  “Dad’s gonna make it,” Rachel said. “I’m so glad you were there for him, Sarah.”

  The bedroom she shared with Grant was just down the hallway, but she didn’t feel secure being that far away from her father, so she rummaged around in the master bedroom closet until she found Grant’s special camping equipment. She pulled out a box and examined it. The fold-up cot, exactly what she was looking for; oh, and Grant’s eight-degrees-below-zero thermal sleeping bag. She pulled the cot out of the box and the sleeping bag out of its protective wrapping and carried both items down the hallway to her dad’s room. She set up the cot, laid the sleeping bag on top of it, then piled some blankets onto it, and scrambled into the sleeping bag and fell asleep.

  At two in the morning, she awoke out of a deep sleep.

  She lifted her head, looked around her, not quite remembering why she found herself in a strange place then it hit her. She’d returned home, to Omaha, but nothing felt like home anymore.

  She climbed out of the sleeping bag and stood over her father for a long moment, then bent down to check his forehead. To her merciful relief, Dad’s fever had broken, and a bead of sweat stood out on his brow. He gazed at her with wide-open eyes.

  His eyes were wide open.

  “Dad, how do you feel?”

  Dad said, “I’ve soaked through my clothes”

  “Then let’s get you changed into some dry ones.”

  “An excellent idea,” he said, and again, waves of relief washed over her. If Dad could carry on a conversation with her in his usual, droll manner, then he was feeling better.

  She ran down the hallway to the master bedroom again, and this time, she hurried to her dresser. She yanked it open and scrabbled around in it for a few minutes before finally finding a pair of long-johns and a long-sleeved union jack shirt. The only problem, it was her pair of underclothes, and in hot pink, with adorable bunnies prancing all across the fabric.

  Still, Dad was in no position to quibble, was he?

  She walked back into the bedroom and showed him the outfit.

  “Shoot me now,” Dad deadpanned.

  “They’re dry, and nobody will ever know.”

  “Sure, now you tell me.”

  “Do you need help getting changed?”

  “Nah, I’m not that far gone I can’t put on a pair of pretty pink long-johns.” He cast a wry glance at her. “You take any photos of me, kiddo, and post them on social media, you can kiss your inheritance goodbye.”

  “Good to know,” she said dryly, and left the room.

  A few minutes later, Dad called her back into the room. She caught a glimpse of a pink-flannel-clad leg disappearing below the covers as she walked back in with two fresh mugs of hot chocolate.

  “Does your bedding need changing?” she asked, setting down the mugs onto a table and picking up the sodden underwear. “Oh, my goodness,” she said. “Your underclothes are soaking wet.”

  “Yeah, pretty gross,” Dad said. “Sorry about that, honey.”

  “Okay, well, let me run this to the laundry—”

  “Stop, honey, stop,” Dad said, reaching out for her with a pink-flannel-clad arm. “Stop and visit with your old man. The laundry can wait.”

  “Do you need the sheets changed?”

  “No, sweetie, no,” he assured her. “You’re running yourself ragged. Come and sit a spell with your old man.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Dad said. “I’m sure, honey. Where’s that young man of yours?”

  Which one?

  “That Dr. Grant McCall,” Dad said. “Came to visit me a few times, while you were gone.”

  “Oh, well, that was mighty nice of him.”

  He reached forward and patted her knee. “Anyway, let’s talk.”

&n
bsp; Tears brimmed behind her eyelids.

  “What’s troubling you, pet,” Dad said, using one of his stock comments to the women in the household while she was growing up. If Mom was upset, Dad would say, ‘What’s the matter, pet?’ and if Rachel was upset, he’d say the same thing. And now he was saying it to her.

  “Dad,” she said, then hesitated. “I feel less than.”

  “I know,” he said. “I thought there was something wrong.”

  “Dad, I feel like I made a mistake when I left for Alaska.”

  “Really? Wasn’t your sister nice to you?”

  “Oh, she was fine. It’s just that, well, I met someone, when I was there, in Alaska.”

  He studied her for a long moment. “Was it a mistake to go to Alaska?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “Did you fall in love with him?”

  She looked away, embarrassment flooding her features.

  “So, you did fall in love.”

  “I suppose I did.”

  “Why’d you come home, then?”

  “Duh, Dad. You got sick.”

  “Oh, yes, that’s right.”

  She laughed, softly.

  And then Dad said the kindest, most loving thing he’d ever said to her. “You’re a beautiful girl, and I’m not the least bit surprised to learn that a young man fell in love with you.”

  “Oh, Dad.”

  Her father tapped the bedspread absently. “You have feelings for him? This young man, you left behind, in Alaska?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, I’m sure he’s a fine young man, and I think Grant McCall’s a fine young man, too.” But then his gaze turned thoughtful.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Grant McCall did come to see me, while you were gone, and I believed at the time he was in love with you.”

  “You don’t think so anymore?” she asked.

  “He seemed, kind of, well, distracted.”

  “He was focused on getting the department chairmanship of the oncology wing.”

  “Yes, I suppose that’s it. He’s always been an ambitious man.”

  “Is there . . . anything else you wanted to tell me?”

  “ Sarah, you’re ambitious, too, you know,” he said, gazing up at her. “It can be hard to marry someone who expects his career to come first. Know what I mean?”

  “I think so,” she said slowly.

  “It’s important to marry for love, sweetheart. Your mother was the love of my life.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  He lay back against the pillow.

  “I’ve over-stressed you,” she said.

  “No,” he said, “I’m fine.”

  But his eyelids drifted closed and in the next moment he fell fast asleep. She settled the quilt over his shoulders and went back to bed herself.

  Sarah drove Grant’s sleek black Mercedes to the Medical Center on forty-second street, parked in the reserved parking spot in the underground garage, and marveled at all the cars.

  There are more cars in this parking garage than in all of the inner rim.

  She’d never noticed this before, how much more crowded Omaha was… much more than the remote part of Alaska she’d been living in for the past six weeks.

  She eased out of the car, took the stairs to the fourth floor and walked to his office But when she reached his office, she realized her mistake. Another doctor’s name appeared on the door, and then it hit her.

  He got the chairmanship. While I was gone. And he didn’t tell me.

  She felt strangely discomfited and out of sorts as she walked down the hallway to the department chair’s office. As she walked past a patient’s room, a tall, slender man emerged, and she whirled around and saw him. “Grant!”

  “Sarah!”

  To his credit, he dropped everything and went to her and wrapped his arms around her waist and snuggled her in close to him and kissed her on the cheek, and it felt almost just like before, except, she remembered the sensation of another man, snuggled up next to her in a sleeping bag, whispering to her—

  “My love,” he said, his voice filled with excitement. “It’s so good to see you back.”

  She couldn’t help it, she had to say it. She pulled out of his arms a little and gazed at him.

  “I got back yesterday.”

  He winced. “I know, honey, but I was busy, just too busy to pick you up from the airport.”

  She gazed at him, fighting back the tears. She felt as if she’d been through a complete transformation, this past six weeks. She’d made a new life for herself in Alaska, and now, as she stood here, on the floor of the pediatric oncology unit, she felt out of place, as if everything had moved on without her, and Grant had moved on without her, too, for he’d gotten the department chairmanship and didn’t tell her.

  And then, another, more unhappy thought assailed her mind.

  Why didn’t he come home from work last night? Where, exactly, did he lay his head?

  She thought of Jake Roundtree, and the way he’d nearly sacrificed his life to save hers, when the hungry grizzly came after them.

  Was it fair to compare a grizzly episode with the simple matter of Grant not picking her up from the airport? After all, she was a big girl, right? And it wasn’t such a big deal that he’d failed to collect her from the airport and drive her home was it?

  No, not really.

  Why did it feel so unfair, though?

  “Grant, I really wish you’d picked me up from the airport last night.”

  Grant gazed at her for a long moment, then hung his head.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, and he sounded contrite, and she forgave him a tiny bit, but still, she simply had to know . . .

  “Where did you sleep last night?”

  “Oh,” he said, lifting his head and smiling. “Here, at the hospital, in the doctor’s quarters.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  “And that reminds me.”

  “Of what?”

  “Come to my office.” He grinned. “Come to my new office.”

  He took her by the hand and led her all the way down the corridor to the corner office. He pulled her inside, walked behind his desk, pulled out a drawer, grabbed something, and walked back around the desk to face her.

  “Sarah O’Reilly,” he began, kneeling in front of her with a black box in his hand. “Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest of men?”

  She reached for it, held it in her hand, opened it, and gasped when she saw the ring.

  It was a stunner. The thing was easily, what, four carats? Five?

  “It’s eight carats,” Grant said, as if in answer to her unspoken question.

  “Oh, Grant,” she said, and she allowed him to get back to his feet and slip the ring onto her left index finger. The durn thing glittered like a fireworks display.

  “Will you make me the happiest of men?” he asked again, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  Without thinking, she said, “Yes, I will.”

  At that moment, a tiny knock interrupted their intimate moment. Marilyn Palmer burst into the office and stopped cold when she saw Sarah.

  “Oh, oh, Dr. O’Reilly,” she said, her face paling. “Oh, so you’re back.”

  “Yes,” she said evenly. “Good morning, Ms. Palmer, I am back, as you can see.”

  “Oh, oh, well,” she stammered, her gaze shifting to Grant, who slowly withdrew his arm from around Sarah’s waist and stood to one side, looking very uncomfortable.

  “Well, then, Dr. McCall,” Marilyn said, finally recovering her composure, “I’ll call back in a few minutes, leave you alone with your . . . fiancée?”

  “Yes,” Grant said. “That will be fine, Mari—I mean, Ms. Palmer.”

  “Oh, wait, oh, dear,” Marilyn said. She hurried forward, threw the folder onto Grant’s desk and walked back to the door and stood there a moment. “Grant, they’re waiting for you in conference room A.”

  “I’ll be right back,” G
rant said over his shoulder to Sarah as he walked to the door. “I’ve got this important meeting with some investors, but I promise you, we’re gonna celebrate in style tonight. Make a reservation at your favorite restaurant.”

  As the door closed behind him, she overheard him saying to Marilyn, “What?” and there was something in his tone of voice that disturbed her. She didn’t know what it meant, or why he’d spoken so harshly to her, but a trickle of unease flitted down her spine.

  Something felt wrong.

  She twirled the ring around on her finger and then, feeling awkward and out of sorts, she wandered out of his office and aimlessly down the hospital corridors aimlessly. By chance, she found her way onto the maternity ward, and she gave herself a moment to stand at the window and look at all the sweet little newborns.

  As she stood there, dressed in street clothes, and her hair pulled back, she realized nobody recognized her. Two maternity ward nurses walked down the corridor and didn’t see or recognize her. That’s when Sarah heard what she knew she’d wanted to hear, but with the words came so much pain.

  “I sure do wish Doctor O’Reilly would get a clue and kick that man to the curb,” the first nurse said.

  Sarah’s skin prickled.

  What?

  “I know, but love is blind, isn’t it?”

  “I know,” the first one said again. “but the way he’s been carrying on with Marilyn Palmer . . . no wonder he got the chairmanship so fast.”

  “Well,” the second nurse continued. “I suppose that’s an example of how far women have come in today’s society. Now, it’s the administrator who’s a woman who’s got a doctor sleeping with her to get to the top.”

  “Equal rights and all that,” the first nurse said, and chortled.

  “He’s practically living with her,” the second nurse said. “That big fancy house he bought is in my neighborhood, and he hasn’t been home since Sarah left for Alaska.”

  “Oh, he’s such a jerk, isn’t he?” the first nurse said.

  Sarah stood there, absorbing the words.

  I couldn’t agree more.