by Dianne Drake
“Enjoying this, Red?”
“Maybe.” More than she would admit to him, or even to herself.
He chuckled. “Well, coming from you, I’ll take that to be a big, resounding yes.”
It was. She just wasn’t going to tell him so.
“But you’re not easy with it, are you? Your shoulders are still pretty tense, your neck is stiff. You’ve scooted forward to the edge of the bench, like you’re getting ready to run. So, do I make you nervous, Red? Is it because I saw your—?”
“You saw my rear end, Coulson. At least, I’m assuming that’s all you saw. And, no, that doesn’t make me nervous.” Quite that opposite, actually. “But don’t count on ever seeing it again.”
“Than I shall thank you for the opportunity and cherish the memory. Let it live on in my fantasies for years. decades to come.”
In spite of herself, she laughed. And finally relaxed all the way.
“See, now, isn’t that better?” he asked, as the brush finally began to glide more easily through her hair. “Even your hair’s beginning to relax.”
“Like it could.”
“Well, I’ve got to admit, the first thing I noticed about you was your hair.”
“The first thing? Are you sure? Because I thought it was my … money.”
“OK, maybe the second … or third thing. And money always gets my attention, especially when someone’s handing it over to me. But your hair was definitely in my top-five first observances because I figured that if you stayed here for long, you’d cut it off.”
“Never.” She couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
“Never say never, Red. I won’t always be there with a hairbrush.”
“I don’t need your hairbrush or you brushing my hair, and I won’t be cutting my hair,” she snapped, tensing right back up. This time she stood, yanked the brush from his hand and finished the brushing in a fury, then practically threw the brush back at him. “And it’s none of your business anyway, Coulson, what I do, or don’t do, with my hair!”
“Care to tell me what that’s about?” he asked, clearly taken aback by the fast shift in her mood.
“I’m in a hurry, that’s what this is about. I don’t have time to sit here and talk about … my hair.” With that, she turned and fairly flew off the porch, leaving Adam standing there, wondering what the hell had just happened. One moment they’d been having some nice banter going on between them, then.
He watched her disappear into the night. Watched, wondered, then. “Damn,” he muttered, sucking in a sharp breath. “Damn it to hell!” He knew that reaction. Had seen it in a few of his patients … chemotherapy patients, when their hair grew back. The loss of hair was the stigma, a sign of sickness or hopelessness, often dreaded more than the illness itself. When it grew back, in so many of his patients he’d seen a life reborn. Saw the glimmer of hope return, and even blossom. “Son of a.” He swallowed back a hard lump, felt a surge of nausea rising in his gut. She’d had cancer. At some time in her life, Erin had had cancer, and the way he felt about that was indescribable. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to push back the image, trying to reason with himself that he was totally wrong about this. There could be other things … maybe just a plain old obsession. Or vanity. Maybe … maybe …
There weren’t any maybes, though. Not real ones. He was a doctor, and he knew. Knew from experience, knew from his heart because he could feel a band around it right now, squeezing it, trying to break it. Cancer touched other people. Touched his patients. But it had never touched someone he … he was coming to care about.
Cancer. That explained so much.
Turning, Adam crashed through the front door then stood in the entryway in the dark for a moment, trying to make sense of it, taking deep breaths, trying to steady his pulse. Most of all, still willing another explanation to reach up and grab him. But it was no use. The thought of Erin and cancer intertwined in his being as one, burrowing its pernicious way in, not letting go. In response, or protest, or mad-as-hell anger, he threw the hairbrush as hard as he could, threw it at nothing but the darkness, heard it hit the wall and fall to the floor in two pieces. Then he stubbed his toe on one of the two chairs in his cottage and swore at the top of his lungs. Not for the pain shooting up his foot but for … for so many other things he couldn’t even define.
Davion glanced over at Erin, who was changing the bandages on Tadeo’s hands. “He’s been sleeping most of the night. Woke up a couple of times, asked for Adam, then went right back to sleep when he realized he was in the clinic.”
“And Pabla hasn’t come by to see him yet?”
“She won’t,” Davion said, too matter-of-factly.
The burns looked better than she’d hoped for. The red wasn’t quite so angry, and the blistering not as extensive as she’d expected. All in all, Tadeo was one lucky little boy. Not counting his guardian, though. Erin didn’t like her, wouldn’t even try pretending that she did. “Why won’t she?”
“I mean, she took him in because there was no one else. But she doesn’t care about him. Barely takes care of him. And let me tell you, Pabla Reyes is one mean lady, doesn’t treat other people nicely either. She worked for my mother for a few days, nearly ran off all the customers she was so rude to them. My mother won’t even let her come to Trinique’s any more, not for any reason.”
“And no one knows why she’s this way?”
Davion shrugged. “Some people are difficult just because they want to be. Don’t need a reason.”
That much was true. Although, admittedly, her father had done a good job of protecting her from the abrasive side of life as much as he could. In her life, she’d rarely encountered disagreeable people like Pabla. “What happened to Tadeo’s parents?”
“Don’t know for sure. Never asked, never heard anybody say much about it, one way or another. That’s the thing about living out here. People take things as they are, don’t get themselves bothered with things that don’t matter. Tadeo lives with Pabla. She’s not good to him, but she doesn’t hurt him either. He gets food, he gets clothes …”
“Does he get schooling?”
“He’s smart, but I don’t know.”
“He’s a good little boy,” she said, while she replaced the gauze on one hand then began to remove the dressing from the other hand. “He deserves …”
“Adam.”
She looked over at Davion. “You’re right.” And Adam needed Tadeo maybe even more than Tadeo needed him. But life wasn’t always that simple. People didn’t always get together because they needed each other.
“Too bad we don’t get to choose those things.” Davion stood ready with fresh gauze, watching intently as Erin went about the second dressing. By now, Tadeo was beginning to rouse.
“Sometimes we do, though,” she said. “My father chose me.”
“And would you have chosen him?” he asked.
“In a heartbeat.”
“No mother?”
No mother, not including those first five years of her life … and even then, her memories of her birth parents were so dim they nearly didn’t exist. “No mother.” Funny how she couldn’t even picture them now. They were faded snapshots, no clear images caught on them any longer.
“I didn’t mean to,” Tadeo murmured in a groggy haze. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
“I know you are,” Adam said, stepping up to the bedside. “Accidents happen, and I’m not mad at you.”
“But Stella,” Tadeo cried, as huge tears started sliding his cheeks. “She got burned up. I didn’t mean to, and I tried to make the fire stop.”
“It’s a boat, Tadeo. Boats don’t matter. Someday, maybe I can get another boat we can work on together. But right now the important thing here is you. You’re what matters, the only thing that matters, and I’m not mad at you.”
“And he’s doing very nicely,” Erin said. “The burns are already beginning to look better.”
“But his hands are going to have to stay bandaged for a while,�
� Adam said, “and I doubt Pabla is going to take care of him while he’s bandaged. Which means …”
“Which means, the three of us have our work cut out for us,” Davion said, backing toward the door. “And with that, I’m going home. Going to sleep for a while, going to study, going to sing and hope for big tips. Let me know when you need me here, and in the meantime I’ll check with a few of the ladies in town who might be able to come in and stay with him.” He grinned, saluted the lot, then walked away.
“You don’t have to be involved with this,” Adam said. “I can do it.”
“Is this because you don’t want me to help? Or is it that you don’t need me? Because I’m involved here, Coulson. I’ve told you that before. Like it or not, I’m part of it. Tadeo’s going to need constant care for a while, and even with some of Davion’s ladies dropping by, you’re going to need more help with Tadeo than you realize.”
“And you didn’t come to Regina to play.” He glanced down at the boy, who’d drifted back to sleep. “To play nursemaid. It was my boat, my responsibility. I’ll take care of things.”
What was it with him? One minute he was brushing her hair, the next he was practically hurling her out the door. “You’re really a whole sack of mixed messages. Do you know that, Coulson?”
“What I know is that. Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Did you think that I wouldn’t figure it out eventually?”
“Tell you what? What would you figure out?” Her heart lurched. She knew he knew. But he was a good doctor. Why wouldn’t he have guessed it?
“Cancer, Red. You had cancer, didn’t you?”
“What makes you think I had cancer?”
“Your hair. You’re not an obsessed person, not self-involved at all, but you’re overly sensitive about your hair. I’ve seen it before. Seen how people become so obsessed or overprotective of their hair when it finally grows back. They don’t cut it, they don’t let people touch it. They run off in near-hysterics when there’s a suggestion of cutting.”
“So, I have a thing about my hair, and you immediately jump to the cancer conclusion? And I didn’t run off in near-hysterics. I was in a hurry to get to work.”
“It wasn’t about work, Red,” he said gently. “And you did mention a difficult childhood. So, am I wrong about this? Please, tell me I’m wrong.”
“Is it any of your business if I did have cancer? And I’m not saying that I did. But if I’d had cancer when I was younger, why would you even care?”
“Did you, Red?” His voice was suddenly so soft, so sympathetic, she barely recognized it.
“Why do you need to know? What possible difference would it make about anything? ”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I suppose I could say something like I’m curious, and leave it at that. But if things work out for you here, we’re in this for the long haul … colleagues. I think that entitles me to … to something.”
Colleagues. Well, that just about said everything, didn’t it? No point in keeping it to herself because it didn’t matter if he knew. Colleagues kept their relationship on a surface level. Nothing deep, nothing involved. Not even a friendship. So there was no point in holding out for anything more. “OK, I had acute lymphocytic leukemia. Primary bout and two recurrences.” Now he knew. Let the pushing away begin. Because once people knew, they did start to push away from her. Some did it slowly, trying to be polite. Some just broke into a dead run. For some, though, it was simply the emotional distancing until the separation was so tenuous it simply snapped. However it happened, they always left, except for a very few—her father, Serek and Alvinnia, Mrs Meecham. And Coulson? She honestly didn’t know what he’d do. “Totally recovered now. Done with by the time I was fourteen, in case you’re interested,” she said, drawing herself up defensively on the outside but feeling very wobbly on the inside. One bout of cancer and they were supportive. Two and they became wary. Three and they found it hard to even be in the same room with her. Out of sight, out of mind. That’s what she’d always pretended had happened to her parents. They’d simply walked away and forgotten to come back. It made her life simpler that way.
“And that’s why the children’s hospital is for long-term critical care. It makes sense now.”
She wasn’t sure where this was going, wasn’t sure what to do. Most of all, she wasn’t comfortable, and she wanted to get away from him. Go off somewhere by herself for a few minutes and bury those longings he’d been dredging up in her because now, no matter what else happened, they didn’t matter. She’d been there before, been the recipient of the same apprehension and uncomfortable feelings. It’s the way her life worked. She was used to it, and most of the time it didn’t matter. But, then, most of the time she didn’t allow herself the feelings she knew she had for Coulson. Because this day always came, and she knew what would happen at the end of it. “Look, I’ve got to meet an architect in a few minutes. Can you sit with Tadeo for a while?”
He nodded. Didn’t say a word. And she left. Didn’t look back. Didn’t cry. What was the point?
CHAPTER EIGHT
TWO days had raced by since the big revelation, and Erin had encountered Coulson coming and going, but that’s all. A friendly wave, a quick hello was as far as it went between them except when it came to medical dealings, then they talked about Tadeo or other patients. Nothing more. It was pleasant, but bland. No more little barbs, and she was surprised how much she missed that. But that’s how it was going to be with them, and she’d just have to get used to it. Now it was business as usual. They’d settled into their routine.
“You sound tired,” Algernon commented. “I’m worried about you, Erin. Are you taking good care of yourself? Getting enough rest? Eating properly?”
Erin switched the phone to her other ear and settled back into her chair. Sighed loudly. She was in her own cottage now. Not quite set up the way she wanted, but it would do. “I’m fine, Dad. Just busy getting the hospital ready. I’m also helping in the clinic here and taking care of a little boy who burned himself.” Her dad always worried too much. And he was perceptive. Could hear everything in a sigh or an inflection. “I’ve got people coming and going at the hospital now, doing renovations, and I’m talking to suppliers, starting to make purchases.”
“And that young man … Dr Coulson? Have you two—?”
“Colleagues,” she interrupted before he could imply anything. “We’ve established our medical relationship and I think it will be fine.”
“Well, doesn’t that just sound clinical.”
She knew where he was headed with this, and didn’t want to go there. “Because it is clinical. That’s all it is.”
“I talked to Serek the other day. He told me this Dr Coulson had a look in his eye for you. He also said that you light up around Dr Coulson. Is there anything to that?”
Ah, yes. Her dear, sweet godfather doing her father’s matchmaking bidding. “Uncle Serek is wrong,” she said, fighting hard to avoid all inflections so her father would make no more assumptions. “Coulson and I are almost to the place where we can tolerate each other, but that’s as far as it goes with us. And you two need to quit trying to pair me off with every man who comes within a mile of me. I’m fine without one, fine doing what I’m doing right now. Oh, and in case you’ve forgotten, you’re not exactly the right person to be matchmaking for me, Mr Confirmed Bachelor. You find yourself a woman first then we’ll see what we can do to find me a man. Until that happens, though …”
Algernon laughed. “Now you’re sounding like you.”
This was the first time she’d heard him laugh in months, and it immediately brought tears to her eyes. Which meant he’d know she was crying, and would probably jump to the wrong conclusions and worry even more. “Look, Dad, I’ve got to run,” she said, fighting back the sniffles. “It’s my turn to go sit with Tadeo for a while. He’s getting restless, wants to get up and play, and it’s taking everything we can do to keep him still.”
Algernon didn’t comment right
away. There was a gap in the conversation, a long pause, and she knew he was hearing her emotion. All of it. “Look, I’ll call you later tonight. OK?” she asked, anxious to end the conversation now.
“He’s more than a colleague, isn’t he?” he asked. “Answer the question before you hang up, Erin. Is Adam Coulson more than a colleague?”
“No,” she whispered. “He is not.”
“But you wish …”
“What I wish, Dad, is that you’d quit worrying about me. I’m fine. My health is good, I’m keeping busy. Everything’s good.”
And it was. Maybe not in her father’s definition of the word, but the more she got involved in the life she truly wanted, the better she would be. And Adam Coulson. he was incidental to her plans. She’d fix that in her mind and, sooner or later, it would implant there and make it so. “Where’s Tadeo?” she asked Davion ten minutes later.
“Pabla came to get him. Said Tadeo had chores he needed to do, that we couldn’t keep him any more.”
“Chores? Did you tell her he shouldn’t be working? That he can’t have his bandages taken off yet, and he still needs bed rest and medication, and absolutely must keep his wounds clean?”
Davion, who was stocking the storeroom shelf with the meager supplies Coulson had brought back with him from Port Wallace, nodded. “I told her everything, but she said to leave them alone. That she doesn’t want us butting in any more.”
“And Coulson knows this?”
Davion turned around. “Adam went to check on Breeon Edward. Today was her day to come in, but she wasn’t up to it so he went to her. So, no, he doesn’t know anything about Tadeo yet. Don’t expect he’ll be too happy about it when he comes back, though.”
