by S. M. Butler
Luke was left alone with Ysabeau’s patient, something he vowed never to do. It was too hard in his job to meet patients, to put faces with the numbers. Instead of beating feet out of the tent, he took the old man’s wrist and checked his pulse.
The old man’s gaze bore under his skin. “You’s a doctor?”
“No.” But he’d had enough training to know that the pulse was strong enough to keep the old dude in the trial for a while longer.
“I’d do many t’ings for Dr. Morno,” Mr. Johnson let loose a phlegmy cough and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Living is not gonna be one of dem.”
Luke found himself looking into the deep, wise eyes of a man with one foot in the grave. “Try.” He touched the old man’s shoulder, thin flesh stretched over brittle bone. “She needs you to live.” Softer he said, “We all do.”
The old man studied him in the dim light. “I can see dat. You is her patient too.”
“No. I’m trying to help.”
The old man snorted and showed his teeth. “No, you is sick too. I see in your eyes. Heart, gut, or soul, don’t matter none. Sick is sick.”
Why argue? The man had him dead to rights. “Are you coming back for testing?”
“Will it do any good?”
“Probably not. But if you don’t come back, Ysabeau, Dr. Morno, will have to shut the clinic today. She doesn’t have enough…” He kept himself from saying survivors. “…patients in the trial.”
The old man’s eyes widened. “She needs me?”
“Absolutely. The trial is over without you.”
The old man scratched at his chin. “Not a bad t’ing for a dyin’ man to be needed. Tell her I’ll come in tomorrow. Get dem needles ready to take what little blood I’s got left.”
Luke smiled. “Good man.”
“And you—” He peered deep into Luke’s eyes. “Keep tryin’ to help. Dr. Morno needs all de friends she can get. Dat girl is an angel.”
He didn’t need Mr. Johnson to tell him what he already knew. Luke nodded and followed Ysabeau into the bright sunlight.
She stood with her arms crossed, her expression fierce. “So that’s it? We can’t talk to the Guardians about this?”
“No need. Mr. Johnson is coming in tomorrow to have his vitals checked.”
She exhaled deeply. “How can that be? He told me he didn’t want to waste his last days getting poked and prodded at the clinic. What did you say to him?”
“I told him that you need him to come. That’s all.”
“Wow. Thank you, Luke.” She took him by the arm. “You bought me more time.”
“You still have five days.”
She lifted her shoulders back and looked him in the eye. “Five days. I only hope that—oh!”
A teenaged boy bumped into her elbow, nearly knocking her over. “Eskize mwen.”
“Pa gen pwoblem,” Ysabeau said to the teen.
“You okay?” Luke stopped and checked her out. “He wacked into you pretty hard.”
“I’m fine. He wasn’t watching where he was going.”
“He should be more careful. What’s was he chewing on, anyway? Looked like brown rubber.”
“Pig’s ears,” Ysabeau replied.
His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. Some people love them. It beats dirt cookies.”
He shook his head. “I’ve heard of mud pies, not dirt cookies.”
“My people are poor, Luke. Terribly poor. Sometimes all they have to eat is a baked wafer made out of dirt and a little salt. Dirt cookies fill stomachs when there is nothing else to eat. Of course, it also makes them ill because the dirt is toxic.”
“That’s unbelievable, Ysabeau.”
“It is, but look around you, Luke. Haitians may be poor, hungry, and sick, but we are not without hope. See?”
She was right. The men, women, and children walking the streets, selling their wares, buying goods, laughed, smiled, and even sang. They were full of life and exuberance. They dressed in vibrant colors. Their artwork, the Naif paintings, everything they created was bright and teeming with life. He saw brilliant and beautiful hope in the Iron Market.
“I do see.” He wouldn’t have without Ysabeau.
“Are you ready for lunch?” Ysabeau asked.
“Not pig’s ears, or dirt, I hope.”
She laughed. “No, I thought we would get pizza. I know this great place.”
Chapter Ten
‡
They rounded the corner and walked into a little café that was quite familiar to Luke. “Domino’s? I thought they only delivered.”
“You’ve eaten at a Domino’s before?” She looked shocked.
“No, I can’t say I have, but I have them deliver pizza every now and again. Especially on Super Bowl Sunday.”
“Oh.” Her voice was tinged with disappointed. “I hoped to take you to a special place.”
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Being here with you makes it special.”
She flushed. “Really?”
“Really. You are amazing, Ysabeau. I’ve never meant anyone like you.”
After Ysabeau gave the waiter their order, Luke broached a subject that had been weighing on his mind. “Do you have nightmares often?”
Her face fell. She stared at her empty plate. “I can’t. Talk about them.”
“I might be able to help.”
She looked up. “You did. Last night. I haven’t slept that long in—” She cut herself off as if she’d admitted too much already. “I don’t sleep well.”
“I’ve had those times, Ysabeau.” Still do. “You need to talk to someone. If not me, someone.”
The pizza arrived. As Luke scooped a slice onto her plate she asked, “Your wife’s cancer? Is that what caused your sleepless nights?”
He swallowed hard. Talking about what happened was shredding-internal-organs kind of painful. Most days he didn’t have the strength to relive it. He just couldn’t do it. But today…Ysabeau’s face was so full of kindness he thought maybe, just maybe, this was a day he could.
He screwed up his courage and said, “Soli died from Li-Fraumeni Syndrome.”
Ysabeau gasped. “Oh, Luke. I studied that syndrome at the University. It’s very rare.”
“Tell me what you learned. Maybe you can teach me something I don’t know,” he said.
“It’s bad.” She fingered the tiny golden angel on her necklace. “Li-Fraumeni Syndrome is a hereditary autosomal disorder caused by a mutation on the tumor suppressor gene. The Guardian gene, they call it. The person is at risk for—” Understanding spread across her face. She knew. “Cancer. Nearly every kind.”
“Thirteen years.” Emotion clogged in his throat. He took a sip of Coke to wash it away, as if it was that easy. “Thirteen long years Soli suffered with breast cancer, brain tumors, and leukemia. She didn’t stand a chance. But she fought. Hard.”
“I’m so sorry.” Ysabeau and put her hand over his and whispered, “That must have been so hard for you.”
Hard didn’t begin to describe the hell. “I couldn’t do anything except hold her and tell her that I loved her. One by one the cancers attacked. She fought, with everything she had. In the end, I was useless.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I couldn’t save her.”
“You loved her. That is all a woman ever wants. To be loved by a good man.” She rubbed his arm gently, slowly. “It was enough.”
Her words were a balm to his heart scars. For the first time in years, Luke had an electric sensation beating in his chest. He had been dead inside for so long it was a surprise to feel anything.
A really good surprise.
*
After lunch, they walked back to the car, her arm hooked with his. Ysabeau had to get back to the clinic, but she felt strangely saddened she couldn’t stay with Luke a bit longer. He wasn’t an evil monster sent to close her clinic. He was gentle, sensitive, and wounded. It was imp
ossible not to care for a man who had loved his wife so dearly.
What would it be like to love that much? And to be loved back? How she wished to have what Soli once had. She sighed.
“Are you feeling all right?” He stopped walking and faced her, his blue eyes scouring her face.
Had she made that sound out loud? Heat rose to her cheeks. “I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking that my anti-viral serum is designed to improve the immune system. It could help people with Li-Fraumeni Syndrome.” If it would finally work as it is supposed to.
“I know. It’s one of the reasons I wanted the Guardians to fund your project.” Sadness washed over his face. “It’s why I’ve given you more time. I need it to work, Ysabeau.”
His eyes filled with such raw emotion she had the urge to grab him and kiss his pain away. Kiss her pain away. Maybe she’d never stop kissing him. She was a complete disaster, a total wreck of a woman who longed to wrap up in the arms of a man she barely knew in the middle of the crowded street until she stopped aching inside.
He traced her cheekbone with the back of his knuckle. “Thanks for taking me to lunch.”
She couldn’t breathe.
He smiled at her. “You are really beautiful, you know.”
“So are you,” she said softly.
They were at the car and she was glad she could hide her burning cheeks by searching for the keys in her purse.
When they were finally back at her house, Luke went to the hall bathroom to take his shower and Ysabeau crept off to the kitchen to call Gran.
“Ysabeau! The cards are ominous. Is everything okay?” Grann said as soon as she picked up the phone.
It was a bit unnerving having a grandmother who read your future in her tarot cards. “Everything’s okay here. I’ve been worried about you. Haven’t seen you in days.”
Grann mumbled something that sounded like, “Deolina’s stupid plan.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Ysabeau nibbled on her lip. She’d hardly said a word; how did Grann know something was wrong? “I’m fine, it’s just, wait a second—” Holding the phone to her chest, she peeked around the corner. The shower was still running down the hall. “Okay, I have a question about auras. Can a person have two of them, one over the other?”
“What colors are you seeing?”
“Red and blue?” Ysabeau’s voice hitched on the end.
“That shouldn’t be. Who is this person?”
“No one you know, Gran. A, uh, patient.” Ysabeau frowned. She hated keeping secrets from Gran, but her instincts told her a little evasion was warranted here. Deolina and Grann had been acting funny since Luke arrived. Even though she never thought she’d see them working together, those two were clearly up to something. “Are we having supper together on Sunday?”
“No, Ysa, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t say.”
That was it? Now who was being evasive? “Grann are you seeing a new man?”
“Sweet girl, you know I don’t kiss and tell,” Grann said with a laugh.
“You do so tell. All the time. Don’t hold out on me, missy. I want all the details—” Ysabeau heard the water shut off. She needed to wrap this up. “Uh-oh. I’ve got to go to take care of…something.”
“Wait! Maybe you should come over here. Stay with me a while,” Grann said.
Ysabeau frowned. “You want me to leave my house and stay with you?”
“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”
Every muscle in Ysabeau’s body tensed. “Safe from what?”
Grann let out a deep breath that sounded suspiciously like a protection spell.
“Gran?”
“Watch yourself, child. Guard your heart with all your might. I love you,” Gran’s voice cracked. “More than anything.” Then she hung up.
Ysabeau’s insides were shaking. What was that all about?
*
In the light of the streetlamp, Luke lay on the couch and wrestled with a decision.
His mother had raised him to be a gentleman. He couldn’t, in good conscience, continue sucking up Ysabeau’s hospitality like soda through a straw. He had enough cash to stay in a hotel for a few nights. Once his new credit cards arrived, he’d be able to stay the five days he promised Ysabeau. He should move out. That’s what a gentleman would do.
There was also the matter of how to deal with the clinic. To make an unbiased decision about the funding, he needed to put a bit of distance between himself and Ysabeau. It was the right thing to do.
But sonofabitch, he didn’t want to leave Ysabeau. The woman was getting under his skin. She was brave, intelligent, and determined, but it was her soft side that spoke to Luke. He wanted to protect her from her troubles, make her life better. Be with her.
That last thought stood up like a cobra and bit him in the face. He couldn’t be with Ysabeau. Not here, not now, not anytime. His life was in San Francisco with his daughter. As a Guardian, he’d vowed to save lives and do everything in his power to cure cancer. Haiti, love, dating? None of that fit into his plans.
He blew a breath toward the ceiling fan.
In the morning, he’d check in to a hotel. He had to. The decision was made.
A scream caused him to bolt upright. His head didn’t spin when his feet hit the floor and he sprinted down the hall. Ysabeau was crying in her sleep again.
Only this time, she called his name.
When he crawled on top of her bed and wrapped her up in his arms, all hastily-made hotel decisions were already forgotten. Leaving Ysabeau was going to be impossible.
*
Her own screams jolted her awake and yet the nightmare still gripped her. Her heart pounded. The bad man’s fingers clawed at her throat. She couldn’t catch her breath. When Luke’s shadow crossed the room, she whimpered with relief that she didn’t have to fight her demons alone. He was there, in her bed, holding her in those amazingly powerful arms. Her American.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered into her ear. “I’ve got you.”
A tidal wave of emotions—gratitude, desire, need, anguish, fear—roared through her with such force she couldn’t tell which way was up. One word rumbled from deep inside her and poured out, “Luke.”
“I’ve got you,” he repeated.
She clung to him, waiting for the nightmare to abate and the bad man to go back to hiding in the depths of her memories. She breathed in the musky scent of his skin and the quivering fear settled. The dregs of the dream were gone, replaced with only one thought—him. Her savior.
Placing her palms on his cheeks, she pulled him toward her and kissed him. His lips felt so…perfect. Passion throbbed deep in her core and she dragged him closer until he was stretched out the length of her body. She was very aware of all the parts of his body touching hers. Hard, strong, beautiful male. The last time a man was in her bed…a soft cry escaped her throat. No. Don’t think. She kissed Luke harder, trying to smother the bad memories, longing to feel alive, safe.
He fisted her hair and his tongue dove inside her mouth. Electricity flashed through her spinal cord, lighting up her soul.
She let everything go, giving into wild abandon kissing. She pressed her lips to his lips, cheeks, chin, jaw…she was like a crazed woman tasting life for the first time, craving more and more until she might explode from wanting him.
“Ysabeau,” he whispered against her lips.
His deeply sensual voice flamed her fire. She wanted to feel his warm skin against hers. Still kissing him, her fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt. In her haste, one of the buttons flew off.
“Ysabeau, wait—”
She couldn’t wait, or slow down, or think. Tugging on his shirt, she gave it a mighty yank to pull it over his head. “I want you. Now.”
The sound he made was like a deep growl. She liked it. She nipped at his neck and picked the spot.
“We can’t.” He pressed her t
rembling hands against his chest. “We don’t have protection.”
She was about to tell him she had a whole box of condoms in her desk drawer for educational purposes at the AIDS Clinic. Staring into his eyes, she saw something that surprised her. They were the most blazing blue glowing with passion, depth, caring and…sadness? Why did he look so sad?
“Even if we did.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I have to be sure this is what you really want. To be with me. In a relationship. You mean too much to me to just…” He shook his head. “I don’t do one night stands. I’m not that guy. I’d want more.”
She could see that he was suffering, struggling with his decision, wanting her as much as she wanted him.
Before she could answer, he stood up. “Think about it. Make sure this is what you want. I’ll be on the couch.”
Still breathing heavily, the salt of his skin lingering on her lips, she flopped back on her pillow and wondered what just happened.
Chapter Eleven
‡
January 10, 2010. Two Days…
The next morning he rose from the couch to find her making oatmeal and coffee.
She caught him watching her and smiled, “How about the beach today?
“The beach?”
“We can enjoy the morning while the samples cure. In the afternoon, I’ll run more tests.” She chewed on her lip. “Unless you don’t feel up to it.”
What he felt like doing was sitting down and discussing things. Last night she said she wanted him. If he had no choice but to end the serum trial, would she still want him then? Shit, he could be a bastard, but he’d never make love to a woman and destroy her dreams within the week. She needed to understand what was coming. But he could fix things—give her a new life—if she’d let him.
Controlling the urge to grab her up in his arms, he poured her a cup of coffee instead and handed it to her along with a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “I’d love to spend the day with you at the beach. Oatmeal?” He asked trying to ignore how damned sexy her legs looked in her shorts. “It’s one of my favorite breakfasts.”
“It is? Tomorrow I’ll make us Akasan. It’s like oatmeal in a drink. It’s made with crème of cornmeal, evaporated milk, cinnamon, vanilla, and sugar. I usually add a little salt with mine. It’s good. Those who can’t afford milk make do with water.”
