by Dianne Drake
“With what?”
“Something like this?” Joanna held up her meter.
“No. We can’t afford something like that. The doctors up in Fort Peck told Arthur he should, and they even gave him one to use, but we ran out of those strips that go in it, so we put it away.”
“Then what does your husband do to take care of himself? Is he on medication? Pills? Shots?”
“No medicine. But he drinks diet soda now.”
“And that’s it?”
Mrs Begay nodded. “And he feels much better.”
Joanna smiled. Of all the American Indians who received medical treatment from Indian Medical Alliances, for which she worked, about sixteen percent were diagnosed with diabetes. But on reservations such as Hawk, not even half the people received medical services, so who knew what she was looking at? Except right now she was looking at Billy Begay, who was too young to be going through this. “I need to come back in a few days and do some more tests on Billy so I can see for sure if he is, or isn’t, diabetic.”
“More blood?” Billy whined.
“Afraid so. But I’ll bring you your very own case of diet soda then, since I can’t give you the sucker now. How’s that sound?”
He shrugged before he walked away. Apparently it didn’t sound too good. But who could blame the kid? At thirty-three years old, Joanna still liked an occasional sucker herself. Like Billy, a green one.
Midnight, and she was finally home. Well, at least the place she called home when she wasn’t home, which was an apartment in Billings. One barely furnished, and hardly ever used. But she did get a day off every once in a while and it was nice to go someplace other than where she worked. So technically, at this moment, she was home enough. And someone was sleeping in her bed, she suddenly remembered.
“Great,” she muttered, plodding in the front door. “Dusty, tired and I don’t even get to sleep in my own bed because he’s there.” She assumed he was there since his car, that impractical pile of nuts and bolts, was sitting out front. In her spot! Everybody in Rising Sun knew that was her spot directly in front of the clinic. But he was in it, which meant she’d had to park three spots away. Damn him!
Pulling off her boots and tossing them at the bottom step, she stomped up the stairs, taking particular care to make as much noise as she could. Since he wasn’t there to work, no way was Dr Ducheneaux getting the bed while she was forced to make do with an examining table. No way in hell. “Get up,” she yelled, once she reached the top step. “I want the bed, and I want it now!”
The room expanse on the second floor was quite open. No real room dividers but the sheets she’d hung. Just stairs leading to a loft-like structure. No doors, no privacy except in the bathroom, which was where she was headed for a quick shower. Then off to bed for six straight hours of sleep. “I’m going to take a shower, and I’ll be out in five minutes. Since you’re here to be a freeloader, I expect you to be downstairs when I get out. Use the examining table, or the floor, for all I care. Anything but my bed.”
Sure, she wasn’t being very hospitable, but the guy was here under false pretenses and he didn’t deserve hospitable. He really didn’t even deserve her roof over his head, except that her roof was owned by his grandmother. Apparently she’d bought it after the last doctor left, hoping that her grandson might come back to Hawk to practice. Poor lady couldn’t have known her grandson too well.
Five minutes in the shower, then Joanna hopped out, dried off and decided to braid her hair instead of drying it. Drying took too much effort and braiding kept it neat enough. So she wound it into a braid that dropped just below her shoulders—red braid, so unlike all the black braids she was used to seeing—wrapped herself in a towel and wandered out to the crude pine armoire that held her clothes. Normally she slept in shorts and T-shirt—simple and cool enough. And modest, since there had been more than one time when someone had come knocking on her door in the middle of the night. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that her bed was empty. Rumpled, definitely slept in, and void of human life at the moment. At least he’d had the decency to surrender it to her.
She dropped the towel, and bent down to put on her panties. Skimpies for sure, definitely on the cheeky side, but not quite a thong, they were basic white and cotton. A real practicality for the Montana desert lands.
“Can’t say I’ve had a greeting like that in a while,” he said from the top of the stairs.
Pulling up her panties and trying not to trip herself up doing so, Joanna spun around to him, realized that she was bare-breasted, and crossed her arms over her chest. “What are you doing up here?” she shrieked.
“Going to bed, I thought. Are you joining me?”
The look on his face was insufferably amused. Even in the dim light she was afforded in her living quarters she could see that. She could also see that he was giving her the once-over. “I told you I was taking the bed, that you could have the examining table.” She wanted to move, wanted to grab something to cover herself, but to that she’d first have to let him have a better look than he’d already had, and she wasn’t about to do that.
“Last thing I recall is that you said I’d have to make my own damned bed. Which I did, as you can see. Then I took a nap in it.”
“Five minutes ago, Doctor. When I came in, I told you to—”
“Five minutes ago I was saying goodnight to my grandmother.”
“Would you go downstairs so I can get dressed?”
“Too late, Jo, I’ve seen it all.”
“Joanna,” she snapped.
“Excuse me. I’ve seen it all, Joanna. But since we’re both doctors here, it doesn’t matter. At least not to me. Very nice, though!”
Bare-breasted or not, Joanna dropped her modest pose, grabbed the nearest thing she could find, a weighty volume on wilderness emergency medicine, and heaved it at him. “Get out,” she yelled.
Laughing, Chay turned and dashed down the stairs. At the bottom he turned and looked back up but she wasn’t in sight. “Thank you,” he called. “It was a pleasure.”
Pulling on her shirt and shorts, Joanna dived into her bed and yanked the sheet up to her chin. Normally on hot Montana nights such as this she slept without a cover. But not tonight, not with Chayton Ducheneaux in the house.
The examining table wasn’t comfortable, neither was it nearly long enough for him, so Chayton made a reasonably passable bed on the floor in the tiny room Joanna used as an office, pulled off his khakis and polo shirt, and lay down on top of the bedding. He’d spent a pleasant couple of hours with his grandmother. He called her sometimes, as he did his mother, and sent her gifts and cards on appropriate occasions. She’d been anxious to hear about his life in the big city, his medical practice, his friends…his girlfriend. She made a particular point of bringing that up, and showed the appropriate amount of disappointment when he’d told her he was hopelessly alone. “Then what do you do with all your time?” she’d asked. “Since you’re not spending it with a woman? It’s not a man, is it? You’re not keeping company with men these days, are you?”
“Not a man,” he’d told her. “I just don’t have much time.” At thirty-six, he was on the fast track to becoming the chief of orthopedic services. That meant lots of hours, but he wanted it so badly nothing else mattered, and nothing else in his life came first. Including women. Sure, he dated every now and then, occasionally had a little fling that progressed beyond a simple date. But once or twice with a woman and the brakes went on. It was too risky, and at his place in life he didn’t want risk.
At least Macawi had been glad to hear that when he did find time for a social life, it was with a woman. That gave her some hope for the Ducheneaux great-grandchild she wanted. “You’re the only Ducheneaux,” she’d told him. “The only one to carry the family name.” Except his father had said he brought dishonor to the name.
One son, no other children, and he was a disappointment. Sighing, Chay turned over on his side and closed his eyes. But as he did s
o, the image that filled his head wasn’t about disappointments or family obligations. Those would have been far easier because he was used to them. This image, though…well, it sure wasn’t going to let him sleep any time soon. Not with Joanna Killian, buck naked and drop-dead beautiful, jumping out at him as soon as his eyelids fluttered down. Anpaytoo. Radiant. Definitely that, and so much more!
CHAPTER THREE
“PERSONALLY, I don’t care if they see you in your boxers, but they might be offended.”
“Huh?” Joanna’s words cut through Chay’s sleep but not so much that he could attach any significant meaning to them.
“And your feet are sticking out into the hall. I don’t have insurance here so pull them in before somebody trips over them and falls.”
More words, and he was finally beginning to wake up. Damn, he was stiff. He could feel it even before he opened his eyes. Stiff neck, stiff back. What in the world had he done to cause all that? he wondered as he finally braved the light streaming in from the…He opened his eyes, looked up, saw the overhead ceiling light. “What the hell?” he muttered, twisting his neck, only to find that he was wedged up tight against a desk and looking under it at…pink bunny slippers. Now it was coming back to him. “I don’t suppose you’d happen to have a cup of coffee up there, would you?”
“I don’t suppose you’d happen to have a bathrobe down there, would you? I’ve got patients coming any minute now and as much as I love a good-looking, mostly naked male body sprawled at my feet, I think most of the people around here might take it the wrong way.”
Chay sat up, noticed she’d tossed a bath towel over his middle, and smiled. So she was a bit of a prude. That surprised him. But prudish could be fun. Standing, he purposely let the towel drop to the floor, then watched Joanna struggle to not look at him. “Did you sleep well?”
“Do you really care?” She was forcing herself to look at the desk top.
“No, but I thought since I was standing here in front of you practically naked, a little civility might be in order. Especially as last night, when you were standing in front of me practically naked, you weren’t civil at all.” She was actually blushing, he noticed. A hearty red flush was creeping up her neck and splotching its way across her cheeks. “And since we’re living together now…”
“We’re not living together,” she snapped, finally looking up at him. Her eyes were fiery. Green, angry and boring straight into his. “And let’s get one thing straight. You’re here because your grandmother owns the building. I’m here because I’m the doctor. You can stay, but stay out of my way, and stay away from my patients. And for heaven’s sake, put on some pants, will you, instead of standing there flaunting whatever it is you think you’re flaunting at me? Because, for your information, Dr Ducheneaux, like you said last night, I’ve seen it all. And in this case, I’m not interested.”
Damn, she was sexy when she was angry. Sexy, gorgeous, and cute in her bunnies. Not exactly what he was looking for on Hawk. “For your information, Dr Killian, I think the fact that you’re so offended by me being here, practically naked, speaks for itself.” He shot her his never-fail grin. The one that always melted them.
“And what’s it saying, Doctor Ducheneaux?”
“That Dr Killian is interested.” With that, he turned and headed up the stairs. Time to grab a quick shower and go see his mother. Even though, admittedly, he’d rather stay right where he was and see more of Joanna.
Joanna watched him saunter up the stairs. It was a deliberate saunter, she suspected. The man was in no particular hurry, and most likely he knew she was watching every step he took. Which she was, damn him! She might be laying off personal relationships for a while, but that didn’t stop her from looking at him. And he was definitely worth looking at. Nothing that good in boxers had passed her way since…well, since ever. Including during her marriage.
When he was finally out of sight, Joanna glanced at the clock. Five minutes till six. Patients were probably waiting outside right now, too polite to knock on the door. If she didn’t open up for another hour, they still wouldn’t knock. That’s how they were. Kind, uncomplaining. Unassuming. Never intrusive.
Kicking her bunnies into the corner, she slipped into some rubber-soled moccasins, hurried to the front door, unlocked it and pulled it open. Sure enough, there they were. At least thirty of them, standing in a tidy line extending down the sidewalk, waiting for her. A day’s worth of patients when she had only half a day to give them.
“No, I’m not living with Dr Killian. Just sleeping under her desk.” Chay reached over to the platter of buttermilk biscuits his mother had set in front of him and took his fourth. Lots of butter and it was pure heaven. There was nothing better for breakfast than his mom’s biscuits, and he suddenly realized how much he’d missed them.
“So you’re not going to tell me why you’re here?” Wenona asked. The diner was bustling this morning. It always did, mostly with men on their way to work at the ranch.
“Do I have to have a reason to—” He’d almost said come home, but he’d caught himself in the nick of time. “To visit?”
“You haven’t had a reason to visit in eight years so, yes, I think you do have to have a reason.” She bustled over to the pick-up window, grabbed two platters full of sausages, bacon, eggs, fried potatoes and biscuits and took them to a booth at the far end of the room. Chay watched her, smiling. Nearly sixty, and she wasn’t slowing down. It was as if time had stood still around his mother. But apparently not so with his dad. At least that’s what his grandmother had told him last night. Leonard was looking old, she said. Old enough to be Wenona’s father. He had deep wrinkles in his face now, walked too slowly, was too thin. Vague symptoms, and possibly just the effects of sixty-five years of hard work. Chay had promised Macawi he’d try and talk to his dad. It wouldn’t do any good, because he was sure his dad wouldn’t talk back.
“I had time off and decided I wanted to come see you since you refuse to come see me,” he said as Wenona rushed back to the pick-up window for an order of pancakes.
“You may charm your way through Chicago, but not here, Chayton. Did Macawi ask you to come?” She sat the pancakes in front of a young man seated five spots away from Chayton, then refilled his coffee.
“She’s worried,” Chay conceded.
Wenona stopped in front of him, still holding the coffeepot. “It’s none of your concern. And if that’s all you’re here for, go home. Your father doesn’t want your interference.”
Chay cracked a bitter laugh. “As if I didn’t know that.”
“So why bother him, Chayton? You’ll only upset him and aggravate yourself.”
“Because my grandmother is worried and she asked me to do this for her.”
“Your father doesn’t believe in your kind of medicine.”
How many times had they had that argument, he and his father? Theirs was a family of healers—shamans. Three generations before Chay. Chay’s father was a healer, too. He wasn’t a doctor, didn’t have medical training. He stuck to the old ways, the spiritual methods that were more tradition than practical. Most Indians sought regular medicine in clinics and hospitals, but there were still a few holdouts, his dad being the biggest one of them all on Hawk Reservation. And the day Chay had announced that he was going to be a doctor had been the last day his father had ever spoken to him. If you do then you’re no son of mine. And he hadn’t been his dad’s son for eighteen years now.
“For Macawi’s sake I’m going to try. She knows how he is and she knows he probably won’t see me, but I’m doing this for her, because she loves him and, unlike my father, she hasn’t turned her back on her child. And I don’t want that causing problems between you and me. OK?” He shot her his typical Chayton grin, then blew her a kiss. “OK?”
“I never could resist a good-looking man,” she said.
“So can you take some time off, or am I going to have to sit here at the counter all day just to spend time with my mother?”
“How is Fern?” He’d dated her daughter, Jane, before he’d gone off to community college. Jane Holly Tree…the memory brought a smile to his face. Happy, bubbly, always smiling. And in his opinion, the prettiest girl on Hawk. She might have been the one he would have taken with him except she’d chosen the traditional ways—had married a man who’d gone to work on the ranch, probably had lots of babies by now.
“Don’t you mean how’s Jane?” his mother asked.
“Her, too.”
“Fern and Jane are fine. Fern retired from the school last year and Jane divorced her husband and moved to Seattle. She does something with computers now.”
Chay raised his eyebrows. “Times change. Look, I’ll be back after lunch and we can…” He wasn’t sure what they could do since there wasn’t anything to do in Rising Sun. “We can do anything you’d like to do this afternoon.” Standing, he bent over the counter, gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, then vacated the stool for the next hungry rancher coming through the door.
Outside, he looked up and down the street. Joanna’s line had dwindled, but not much. No one seemed too sick, he thought. At least, not from his vantage point.
“You should go help her!”
Chay spun around to face his grandmother. Her arms were loaded with grocery sacks, and he reached to take them from him, but she jerked away from him. “I can carry these,” she said, “and you can go be a doctor. That’s the way it should be, Chayton. The way it’s meant to be.”
“How about I carry your bags home for you, then think about helping Joanna?” The wrong thing to say. His grandmother already had that devilish glint in her eyes. The one that, as a child, he’d come to recognize as her winning, him losing. Didn’t matter what they were winning or losing. When he saw that glint he knew he was a goner. And if anything, it was sharper now than when she’d been younger. “You do realize I didn’t come here to work, don’t you?”
