by Norah Wilson
He still remembered what they’d eaten that morning. She’d had French toast with strawberry jam, while he’d worked his way through a western omelet. And as they’d sat at that corner booth with the metal napkin dispenser and wire basket full of condiments, she’d talked non-stop about their future. Not just about the night before them, but all of it. He’d held off university for a year to work with his stepfather in the family business. That year had made him even more sure he’d wanted to pursue a business degree, and he was planning to do it at the same university where Ember was set to do her pre-med. They’d be moving to Ottawa in the fall. That was to be the beginning—the next beginning—for them. They were young and in love and they had their whole lives ahead of them. Lives they planned to spend together.
Jace had sat grinning like a fool that morning as she’d talked. In his heart, he’d known he was the luckiest man in the world.
Also the most nervous one.
Not just about the sex. He was going to ask Ember to marry him. He had the ring. A narrow gold band with a small diamond. His stepfather had offered to give Jace the money to get her a ginormous rock, but Jace had declined. It would be enough for his Ember, and after university when he could afford to, he’d replace it with something more deserving of her.
And as he’d sat there happily listening to Ember’s headfirst planning between jam-slathered French toast bites, he couldn’t wait for the evening to come.
But that evening never came. When he’d reached the cabin, she wasn’t there. He’d sat alone in the thick of the pines, growing more anxious by the moment as the sky grew darker. When she’d finally called his cell, he’d been so relieved. Until she’d unloaded on him about the pictures. It was the first he’d heard of them. Her voice was so tear-choked, he’d had a hard time grasping what she was saying. When he realized what she was accusing him of, he’d leapt to defend himself. She’d hung up, then hung up again when he’d called back. The next time he tried, the line was busy. Clearly she’d taken the phone off the hook.
Frantic, he’d raced back along the river, out to the parking lot. Then he’d sped to Ember’s house. Arden had met him at the door, gruffly advising that Ember wasn’t interested in speaking with him. With no alternative, he’d left, determined to come back the next day after she’d had a chance to cool off. Except when he’d turned up the next morning, she’d already left on the outgoing bus.
He’d gone home, determined to pack his bags and follow her. But then he’d spoken to Terry.
She’d broken his heart, utterly.
That was a long time ago, he admonished himself. Back when you had a heart to break.
Yet something jumped in his chest when she drew a breath, and said his name.
“Jace…”
He lifted an eyebrow
“I know you’re not my biggest fan, and I’m sure as hell not yours, but I really am here to help you. Can we at least try to be civil?”
Civil? That might be a stretch. But he nodded anyway. “Sure. I’d offer you some coffee, but I’m a little indisposed right now.”
It had been a painful hop around the kitchen once he’d made it into the camp, lighting the old wood stove for warmth, plugging in the electric kettle, and digging the vodka, fresh lemon, and honey out of his pack. But the exertion had been worth it. He’d downed one hot toddy standing there at the counter, a medicinal-sized smash of vodka, hot water, fresh squeezed lemon and honey. Then he’d made another toddy—a stiffer one—to sip on before settling himself on one side of the reclining love seat.
“Right. The ankle.” She crossed the short distance between them and bent to look at his feet. She had no trouble identifying the injured one, which was obviously swollen. Gently, she peeled his woolen sock back far enough to expose the ankle fully. She stopped when he winced.
She turned her green eyes up at him. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“What happened?” she asked.
“Stupid. I was hiking along the river’s edge, making my way up here. I slipped on a rock and turned my ankle, right where two birch trees lean out over the water.”
“Where we used to swing over that little gully?”
“You remember.”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “I remember.”
“Well, I’ve gained a few pounds since we used to swing like monkeys from those branches. In recent years, I’ve just picked my way across on foot, but the rocks turned out to be slipperier than they looked.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. I swung across.” She lowered her eyes to his swollen ankle again. She began to poke and prod. He sucked in a breath, but didn’t flinch.
“So, why are you here, Ember?”
She glanced up, surprised. “I told you. Danny Parker called the house looking for a volunteer to hump this stuff out to you.”
“I understood he was going to send one of his grandsons.”
“Both boys are out of town for the Thanksgiving weekend, as it turns out, so he turned to Dad.”
Jace watched her face. “And did you know Danny’s parcel was for me? Did Arden?”
“Dad claimed the name slipped his mind, so I had no idea until I retrieved your briefcase.” She tilted her head in the direction of her pack with the slim briefcase still strapped to it. “Not too many people with that monogram, I don’t think.”
So she’d found out it was him in the parking lot, by which time it would have been too late for her to decline the job without losing face.
“I never would have called Danny and asked for this stuff if I’d known—”
“That you’d be facing me again?”
And there it was—the challenge in her voice. That bit of tell-it-like-it-is Ember Standish. He was still working out how to respond to that when she held up an apologetic hand.
“Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“No worries.”
She bent her head to the task again, easing his sock the rest of the way off. Then she gently explored his foot and ankle. Her hands were warm, her touch capable as she performed her examination.
He cleared his throat. “I’m surprised Titus or Scott didn’t make the trek out here.”
She looked up. “How did you know Scott was home?”
His pulse—already elevated from her touch on his skin—quickened. “Thanksgiving weekend.” He forced a shrug, as if the holiday itself was explanation enough. He hoped it was.
Ember studied him a moment. Then she got up and retrieved the pharmacy bag from her pack. She tore the wrapper off a fresh compression bandage and began wrapping it around the lower part of his foot. “Scott’s back at the truck, in the parking lot. Titus had to hike up the mountain to help someone.”
“Is someone hurt?” he asked sharply.
Until his stepfather got sick, Jace had spent most of his time in Fredericton, where he ran a consulting practice helping small businesses. But when Wayne was sidelined by illness, his role with WRP Holdings had grown. With Wayne’s death, it had expanded even more. Which meant he was now spending more time in Harkness in a sparsely furnished, company-owned apartment, and less at his professionally decorated condo in Fredericton. But despite having been away so much, he still knew the locals. Well, most of them. The old families.
Wayne Picard had left the bulk of his sizable estate and business—sixty percent—to his biological son from his first marriage, Jace’s half-brother, Terry Picard. The other forty percent of everything had gone to Jace.
WRP Holdings owned a lot of land and properties around the Prince Region. Terry was aiming to acquire even more. He was especially anxious to get his hands on the Standish land.
Jace felt his jaw tighten.
“Hurt?” Ember shook her head. “I don’t think so. Lost, maybe.”
It took him a split second to realize she was talking about the hiker on the mountain. He’d do well to keep his mind off that whole Standish farm thing.
“Glad to hear it,” he said. “I’d feel bad
if someone was hurt up there and I’d hauled away a legit doctor over a sprained ankle.” She just looked up at him and back to his foot. He found himself wanting to see those eyes again. “A local or a tourist?”
“Local,” she said, without looking up from her work. “Ocean Siliker. I understand she’s home from New York for a bit.”
He knew Ocean. She’d been a year behind him in school, as had Ember. Jace relaxed a little. She’d always struck him as a bit introspective, but level-headed and capable enough.
She pulled her backpack close and dug out a piece of foam and a pair of scissors. As he watched, she began cutting two U-shaped pieces out of the foam.
“You didn’t get that at the pharmacy,” he observed. “What’s it for?”
She placed one under the left side of his ankle bone, with the open side up. “These will fill the hollows under your ankle bone, keeping fluid from building up there. It’ll also give the ankle more stability.”
With that, she put the foam piece down, grabbed the roll of bandage and began wrapping. Silently, he watched her circle the ball of his foot a couple of times, then loop it up behind the ankle and back down under the arch. She changed the position of his foot slightly to achieve a right angle. Pain shot through him, but he managed not to wince. Or so he thought.
“Sorry.” She grimaced. “I know this doesn’t feel great, but it’ll help get the swelling down. That alone will make it feel better, as will the meds I’ll give you in a minute.”
“It’s okay. Keep going.” To distract himself, he said, “I can’t believe Scott didn’t volunteer to hike out here, even if he didn’t know it was me laid up.”
“I’m a doctor; I was the sensible choice.” She positioned both foam pieces beneath his ankle bones and wrapped the bandage around to hold everything snugly in place, continuing with the figure eight pattern. “But he definitely would have insisted on coming with me, or more likely instead of me, had he known it was you.” She looked up at Jace. “Dad conveniently forgot that it was you needing the help, and was quick to support me for the job. Which tells me he either didn’t want you and Scott to cross paths, or that he did want you and me to.”
He couldn’t imagine why Arden would want to put either of the younger Standishs in his path, given the reaction they were likely to have to the news about the farm. But obviously he’d had no choice, what with Titus having to go search for Ocean. Again he cursed his inattention crossing that gully. This stupid ankle had forced Arden’s hand. Jace hated that.
He and Arden had always gotten along. In fact, they were still on good terms. When Ember had up and left, Arden had refused to tell Jace where she’d gone, saying it was up to Ember whether or not she wanted him to know. But neither had he cast Jace as the villain for breaking his little girl’s heart. In Arden’s words, it took two to make a relationship work, so he figured it took two to scrap one.
Scott, who’d always been fiercely protective of Ember and thus the most likely to tear Jace’s head off, had already left Harkness by then, thank God. Not that he was scared of going a round with him. Scott had the size on him; but Jace was a damn good boxer. He was just glad it hadn’t come to that.
Titus, however, had had a few choice words for him, demanding to know what had happened. Jace had been tempted to tell Titus just what his sister had done, but he’d squelched the urge. There were just some things you didn’t tell a girl’s brother.
Clearly, Titus had gotten over his animosity. Or sufficiently over it to have approached Jace about WRP Holdings buying the farm. And now it was a done deal. All the paperwork had been signed. Though Arden and Titus had negotiated the right to stay until the end of the month, the actual transaction was set to take place after the holiday weekend. Tuesday at nine o’clock, as soon as the law offices opened.
Since Terry had put Jace in charge of all property acquisitions eight months ago so he could focus exclusively on the development end, Jace had overseen the purchase. It had been a struggle to keep his older brother from looking over his shoulder with this one, though. Terry’d had a hard on for that land for years, and now that it was within his grasp, he was having the devil of a time letting Jace do his job. He’d even called twice from Nassau where he was vacationing with his new girlfriend, trying to micromanage the deal.
Yeah. Trying to.
Ember’s words cut into his thoughts. “Any allergies?”
“No.”
“I thought you were allergic to lobster.”
“Well, yes, lobster. But I didn’t know we were dining.”
She allowed a flicker of a smile. Barely. “When a medical professional asks you if you have any allergies, you tell them if you have any allergies. Not just the ones you think are relevant.”
“Is my lobster allergy relevant?”
“Well, no, but that’s not the point.”
She’d finished wrapping his ankle. He wiggled his toes. “Huh. I still have circulation.”
Her forehead lined with concern. “Does it feel too tight?”
“No, it’s fine,” he said. “I was kidding. Given how you feel about me, I thought you might be tempted to be a little...overzealous about it.”
She closed her eyes a few seconds, but when she opened them, her expression was bland. “I’d never purposely hurt anyone,” she said. “Even you.”
“Thank God for the Hippocratic Oath, huh?”
Finally, she smiled as she looked at him, but it didn’t reach her beautiful green eyes.
“I knew you’d do it, Ember. Succeed, I mean. Congratulations.”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Thank you. You know how much becoming a doctor meant to me. Especially after Mom’s cancer came back. I worked hard and made it. And yes, I took that oath. But even without it, I wouldn’t hurt you, Jace.”
“But you did.”
The words had slipped past his lips, but once out, he didn’t regret them. And she knew what he meant. He could see it in her eyes.
He might have been the one who messed up initially, and messed up royally. Fine—he’d own that. But she was the one who’d never given him a chance to explain before running away. She was the one who’d let her anger goad her into doing something she could never take back. Her choices had carved out a piece of his heart as efficiently as any scalpel could have. She should have let him explain what had happened. Should have let him tell his side of the story.
There was more to what had happened that night than she’d seen in those damned pictures.
She stood, cleared her throat. Unzipping a side pocket of her backpack, she pulled out a small bottle of pills and rattled them. “Danny sent Advil and Tylenol, but if you like, I’ve got something stronger here. Tramadol. It’s a narcotic pain killer that my dentist prescribed after a recent root canal. If I start you out on that, it’ll knock down the pain pretty fast. Later, you can take ibuprofen to help with the inflammation. Because they’re metabolized differently, you can take them together without toxicity issues.”
“If they can be taken together, why not give me both now?”
“We could, but believe me, it’s better in the long run if we stagger them. You’ll have more consistent pain control that way.”
“Better how?”
“You probably should have a good six hours between doses. If you took both now, they’d both start to wear off, leaving you in quite a bit of pain before you could take the next dose. If we stagger the doses, you’ve always got fresh pain relief coming every three hours.”
“So the narcotic now, the Advil in three hours?”
“Right. And three hours after that, you take Tramadol again. Then Advil three hours later and so on. Well, until you run out of Tramadol. There are only two more pills. After that, you can safely alternate the ibuprofen with Tylenol, which again is metabolized differently. Sound good?”
“You’re the doctor.”
She shook a white pill out of the container, then dug a bottle of water out of her pack. He held out his hand and she dropp
ed the pill onto his palm.
“Thank you,” he said, striving for the polite, grateful tone he’d use if she were an ER nurse dispensing relief, and tossed the tablet back.
“You’re welcome.” Her tone matched his for civility. She cracked the water bottle and handed it to him. Their fingers touched as he accepted it, and they both froze. Her eyes locked on his. In those few split-seconds, his heart leapt and started pounding.
Something still burned between them. Something impossible.
It was Ember who finally broke eye contact and pulled away.
“You’re going to have to rest that foot, keep it elevated at least twenty-four hours. Forty-eight would be better. After that, you can start moving around more, but I wouldn’t leave the cabin. You don’t want to tackle that rough terrain until the ankle is more stable.”
Well, if she could be cool about the electricity that had just arced between them, so could he. He hoped. “How long before I can walk out?”
She shrugged. “It could take a week. Maybe longer. It depends on the severity of the sprain.”
A week or more? “No, that doesn’t work for me. I’ve got business in town early Tuesday morning.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. Seriously. And whatever you do, don’t try to hike out alone.”
Frustration made his words clipped. “What would you recommend?”
“Stay put,” she said, ignoring the edge in his voice. “Or if you must go, get someone with a boat to come get you. In a few days’ time, you could probably make it to the river’s edge, with some assistance. Though it would have to be someone who knows the area well enough to find you.” She drew a side table close to the end of the love seat and placed the Tramadol and the Advil on it, within easy reach.
“So that’s it?” He capped the water and put it on the side table beside the pills.
“That’s it. You now have the full benefit of my many years of medical training.” Ember looked around, then bit down on her lower lip. “But I can’t leave you like this…”
