The Healer

by Sharon Sala

  A few minutes later he was sitting down to her home-cooked meal, complete with two custard pies she had cooling on the sideboard. From the looks of the overflowing dishes, it appeared that Bridie had gone all out. There was a heaping platter of crusty-fried chicken, a blue-willow bowl filled with mashed potatoes and a matching gravy boat filled with chicken gravy, as well as an old yellow bowl with brown beans and another with coleslaw. A bread basket was near Jonah’s elbow. The scent of hot biscuits coming from under the cover made his belly growl.

  He thought about how close Bridie Tuesday had been to death that morning, and now here she was, pink-cheeked from the heat of the kitchen, with a sparkle in her eyes. It was obvious she’d overdone herself. He would have to make sure she understood that this wasn’t expected.

  “This looks wonderful, ma’am,” he said, as he stood beside his chair.

  “Sit, sit,” Bridie said, as she carried a pitcher of iced tea to the table.

  Jonah took the pitcher out of her hands, filled the glasses she had set at their places, then pulled out her chair.

  “After you, ma’am.”

  Taken aback, Bridie fidgeted as she let Jonah seat her.

  “Thank you, kindly,” she said, and then laid her napkin in her lap. As soon as Jonah sat, she said the blessing, then eyed him curiously as she pushed bowls of food in his direction. “You been talking to any more of my critters?”

  He grinned. “Do you really want to know?”

  She frowned, irked that he’d called her bluff. “I see you’ve been busy this morning.”

  Jonah began filling his plate as he answered. “Yes, ma’am. I did what I could see needed doing. If you have special things for me to do, just let me know.”

  “First off…call me Bridie. Ma’am makes me feel old.”

  Jonah grinned. She was old, and they both knew it.

  “Okay…Bridie, and just so you know, I’m not used to having such fine food. Don’t wear yourself out trying to fix so much. A sandwich would be fine.”

  Bridie smoothed her hair self-consciously, then picked up her fork. “I like to cook, especially when I have someone to cook for, so eat.”

  Jonah did as she suggested, rolling his eyes in appreciation as the first bites went down.

  “This is so good,” he said. “I don’t remember when I’ve had food any better.”

  Bridie beamed. “Franklin always liked my cooking.”

  Jonah ate while Bridie began telling a story about Franklin. It was obvious she was lonely. He understood the emotion, but she was letting her food get cold without eating. No wonder she was so frail.

  He took a biscuit from the basket, slathered it with butter, and then put it on her plate.

  Bridie stopped in midsentence, stunned by what he’d done.

  “You should eat,” Jonah said.

  Bridie was speechless. It had been so long since anyone had cared what happened to her. Except for Luce, of course, but she didn’t see her all that much. She picked up the biscuit and took a bite, then blinked through tears as she chewed.

  Jonah saw the tears and quickly changed the subject. “Brother Mouse thanks you for the new home.”

  Bridie snorted lightly, then grinned. “Is that so?”

  Jonah nodded, and took another bite of chicken, then poured gravy over his mashed potatoes. Without asking, he did the same for Bridie.

  She took a quick drink of her tea, then bent to her plate. Without saying anything else, they began to eat. It wasn’t until the meal was over that Bridie spoke again.

  “Have you saved some room for my pie?”

  Jonah looked up at her, then winked. “What do you think?”

  Bridie giggled, and in that moment Jonah saw her as she’d been—a slender young girl with curly blond hair, blue eyes and a ready smile. No wonder Franklin had been taken with her.

  Bridie got up, retrieved one of the pies and dessert plates from the sideboard, then carried them to the table. Her hand was trembling by the time she picked up the knife to cut the pie, but she persevered.

  “It’s wonderful,” Jonah said, when he took the first bite.

  Bridie beamed. “That’s what Franklin always said.”

  “Sounds like your Franklin was a pretty smart fellow.”

  Bridie’s smile slipped. “I miss him something awful.”

  Jonah hesitated, then laid a hand on her arm, feeling the tiny bones beneath.

  “I know what that’s like,” he said gently. “My father’s been dead for more than ten years. He was all the family I had.”

  Bridie couldn’t quit staring at this man who was sitting at her table. The warm brown skin, high cheekbones, the strong chin and slight hook to his nose marked his Native American heritage. But his eyes were different—even strange. She couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone with eyes that color. In the light, they looked…gold? That couldn’t be right. She shook off the notion and refocused her attention. He was eating and talking to her with such ease that it felt as if she’d known him for years.

  “Aren’t you going to have some pie?” Jonah asked.

  Bridie blinked, then looked down at her plate. She hadn’t touched her piece.

  “Oh. Yes, I suppose I could hold a few bites more.”

  Again they ate in mutual silence. It wasn’t until they were finished and Jonah was helping her clear the table that Bridie introduced another subject.

  “I think the world of Luce.”

  Jonah paused. He’d been expecting this.

  “She thinks the world of you, too,” he said.

  Bridie paused, fixing him with a pointed stare.

  “I’d like to think you’re not the kind of man who will hurt her in any way.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She pursed her lips, trying not to sound judgmental about two consenting adults.

  “Living under the same roof makes messing around pretty handy,” she said, and then blushed.

  “She’s afraid,” Jonah said.

  It was the last thing Bridie had expected to hear.

  “What do you mean…she’s afraid? Afraid of what?”

  “Someone is stalking her…leaving threatening notes. Whoever it is set a trap down at the creek to get rid of her dog so she would be all alone.”

  Bridie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Good Lord! You two are total strangers to each other, and yet she told you all that?”

  He hesitated, then sighed. “Not exactly. I just know it. The rest she admitted.”

  Bridie sighed. “Like you know what the owl says, and the mouse says, and the hawk that told you I’d taken a fall?”

  “I know this is a lot to take in,” he said.

  “Do you know who’s messing with her?”

  “Not yet…but if I ever come in contact with him in some way, I’ll know then.”

  “Poor little thing,” Bridie muttered. “And she didn’t say a word to me.”

  “She’s a very strong woman,” Jonah said. “I don’t think she likes the feeling of not being in control.”

  “Just take good care of her,” Bridie said.

  “I intend to,” Jonah said. “Now…it’s going to snow tonight, so what can I do to help you get ready for that?”

  “Snow? Oh, I don’t think it will snow this early in the season.”

  Jonah shook his head firmly. “It will snow…and Molly is drying up.”

  Bridie laughed out loud. “I’ve been noticing her milk production slacking off. It’s all right. I’m getting too old to mess with such things. I just hated to give up my old ways.”

  “I’ll bring in some wood for your fireplace. What else would you like done?”

  “When do you go get Luce?”

  “She said around three. I’ll take her home, then come back here and do evening chores…if that’s all right.”

  Bridie smiled. “That sounds fine by me. I made an extra pie, so you could take one home.”

  Jonah felt the jolt of the word home as if he’d been slapped. He hadn
’t had a home in a very long time. And he reminded himself, as long as Major Bourdain persisted in his quest to find him and control his powers, he couldn’t have one.

  “That extra pie will be much appreciated. So…I’ll bring in some wood for your fireplace before I leave to go get her.”

  “You finish your pie,” Bridie said. “I’ll be right back.” She left the room as Jonah took his last two bites.

  She came back moments later with a handful of bills.

  “Here,” she said, handing him the money. “I thought you might be needing an advance on your first week’s pay.”

  “Thank you,” Jonah said, and surprised Bridie by enfolding her in his arms. “I won’t let you down.”

  Within moments of being gathered into his embrace, Bridie was filled with such a sense of peace. It was stronger than anything she could remember. She sighed as the emotion engulfed her.

  Even after he’d left the house, she could still recall that warmth, and that feeling of believing anything was possible. It was then that she finally let herself believe that Luce might be right about him, after all. If the man who called himself Jonah Gray Wolf wasn’t a real angel, he was surely blessed beyond normal men.

  Luce saw Jonah walking into the diner just as she was taking off her apron.

  “Harold…my ride is here. See you tomorrow, okay?”

  “It will snow tonight,” Jonah announced.

  At seventy-one, Harold’s mind still worked fine, even though he weighed about a hundred pounds too much. But when he looked up at the man coming through the door, he didn’t know what to comment about first. The fact that a stranger, and an Indian at that, had come to take his little Lucia home, or that the Indian was claiming it was going to snow.

  “Uh…wait, I—”

  Luce could see the surprise in Harold’s eyes and decided the best way to deal with what was bound to become gossip was to introduce them herself.

  “Harold, this is Jonah. Bridie hired him to help her out this winter. Jonah…this is my boss, Harold Carter.”

  “It is my pleasure, sir,” Jonah said softly, and shook Harold’s hand.

  Within a heartbeat of the handshake, whatever fears Harold might have had about the stranger were gone. All he could feel was a sense of peace.

  “Well, now…it’s fine to meet you, too,” Harold said, and then remembered the comment Jonah had made about the weather. “I heard the weather forecast at noon, and they didn’t say anything about snow.”

  Jonah shrugged. “It will snow.”

  Harold grinned at the notion and then patted Luce on the shoulder.

  “Well now, missy, if it does come a good snow, you might as well take the day off. Won’t be anyone out and about in that kind of weather, and if they do come in, I can handle whatever customers we might have.”

  The idea of getting to sleep in was wonderful, but Luce didn’t want to leave Harold in a jam.

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

  “No, no,” Harold said, still laughing. “But remember…only if it snows.”

  Luce waved goodbye, then tried not to notice when Jonah put a hand in the middle of her back on the way to the truck.

  “Is Bridie still okay?” she asked.

  Jonah smiled slowly. “She made us a custard pie.”

  “Oh, yum,” Luce said.

  “Yum is right. I’ve already had a big piece out of the one she made for us at noon, and I’m looking forward to another tonight.”

  Luce shivered. The thought of them spending time together made her anxious. Would something more come of the sexual tension that flowed between them, or was she going to have to settle for that toe-curling climax she’d already had? She sighed as she crawled up into the seat.

  “Tired?” Jonah asked, as he paused before closing the door.

  “Yes, I guess that’s it,” Luce said, finding it easier to claim exhaustion than to admit she was turned on, then changed the subject. “Do you have to go back to Bridie’s this evening?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do we have time to stop by the supermarket before you drop me off?”

  “We’ll make time,” he said.

  Luce grinned. “If it’s going to snow, I need to pick up a few things.”

  “It will snow,” Jonah said. “Which way to the grocery store?”

  He didn’t like to refer to himself as a stalker, but that was what he’d felt like as he watched Luce serving breakfast. He’d stayed in the diner, visiting with first one customer and then another, until he’d had to leave to start his day, then spent the day trying to lose himself in work. But, by the end of the day, he was in a foul humor. It wasn’t until he walked into his own home, savoring the familiar smells and comforting touches that his wife added to the rooms to make their house a home, that he began feeling better.

  The phone was ringing as he tossed his keys on the hall table. He ran to answer. “Hello.”

  “Hello, dear, it’s me. I thought I’d call and see if you’re managing all right on your own.”

  He leaned against the wall, smiling slightly as he heard the concern in his wife’s voice.

  “I’m fine. How’s your mother?”

  She began to explain what was happening with her mother’s treatment, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make himself care. His thoughts had slipped to Luce Andahar again. Would this be the night he had her? Could he get rid of the dog without alerting her to his presence? He didn’t know, but he was damn sure going to try.

  “Dear? Dear? What do you think?”

  He flinched. He had no idea what his wife had been talking about, but he quickly covered up for his inattention.

  “Oh…you know what? I think I’ll leave the decision up to you. You’re in a better position to choose than I am.”

  “Oh, thank you…you are such a sweetheart. So I’ll go ahead and stay with Mother for another week, and then reassess the situation.”

  He resisted the urge to cheer. “That seems the sensible thing to me, as well. Take care, give her my love, and stay in touch.”

  “Absolutely,” his wife said. “I love you.”

  He closed his eyes, picturing Luce’s face as he answered, “I love you, too,” while wishing it wasn’t true. He didn’t want this torture in his life. Sometimes he thought he was going crazy. He knew this fixation wasn’t normal, but he couldn’t quit thinking about her. Couldn’t stop imagining how red her blood would be against her warm brown skin. He wondered if it tasted salty, like her tears, then knew he would find out soon enough.

  He went to the office, pulled a blue notepad from the desk drawer and began writing her another note. Just a brief mention of the things they would be doing together—when the time was right.

  Bourdain was hosting a luncheon for some of his business partners. They had just been seated and were waiting for the first course to be served when one of his guests, a man named Karl Kaiser, began to fidget.

  Bourdain noticed that the man’s color had turned ashen and that there was sweat across his forehead, although the house was not overly warm.

  “Karl? Are you okay?” Bourdain asked.

  Before Karl could answer, he grabbed his chest, then slumped forward, going facedown on the plate.

  “My God!” someone shouted as Bourdain jumped up and ran for the phone.

  Within moments, he’d contacted 911, while another couple of men had lowered Kaiser to the floor and were performing CPR while waiting for help to arrive. But it was obvious to Bourdain that they would be too late.

  Karl Kaiser had come for lunch, but he was going to leave in a body bag.

  Bourdain was sick to his stomach as he sat with his head down and his hands clasped between his knees. He knew firsthand how quickly life could take a nasty turn. In the distance, he could hear the siren from the approaching ambulance—for all the good it was going to do Karl.

  He closed his eyes, and as he did, he thought of Gray Wolf. If he’d been here, Karl wouldn’t be dead, and the consorti
um they’d been going to form wouldn’t have just ground to a halt.

  In the middle of his dilemma, the doorbell rang.

  He heard the maid letting the EMTs into the house. He stood, then took a deep breath, readying himself to face the next few hours. One thing was for sure, watching Karl Kaiser die had just reinforced his intention to catch that Indian healer. Once he had a chance to talk to him, he was certain he could make the man see things his way. The Indian could name his price and live in luxury forever. All he had to do was stay with Bourdain.

  Go where he went.

  Eat where he ate.

  Sleep within the sound of his voice.

  Whatever it took to keep Bourdain alive.

  Hours later, after the police and the coroner had finally left, taking Kaiser’s body with them, Bourdain was still trying to figure out a new angle to get Gray Wolf. Upping the bounty certainly wasn’t the answer, and over the past ten years, he’d sent some of the world’s toughest mercenaries on the hunt. To a man, they’d all failed. Even if they managed to get to Gray Wolf, no one had been able to escape past the animals who were willing to die to protect him. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted the power that Indian possessed, and it was going to be his some day. He just had to find a way.

  Then it hit him. D. J. Caufield. He should have thought of that crazy hunter before now. He clapped his hands together, then laughed out loud. By God, he was going to make this happen, after all.

  Eight

  H obo was asleep in front of the fireplace, just out of range of any popping embers, leaning against the generous stack of firewood that Jonah had carried in earlier before going back up the mountain to do Bridie’s evening chores.

  Luce had stood on the porch and watched Jonah leave a few minutes earlier, then couldn’t help but give the tree line a nervous glance. As she did, she realized that she’d forgotten to get the mail from the mailbox at the end of the drive.

  Irked, she stepped off the porch and started down the drive, dodging the muddy ruts by staying on the grass along the edge. Within a few yards of the mailbox, she saw a dark blue Jeep top the rise below. There were only two houses this far up the mountain, hers and Bridie’s, so she couldn’t imagine who it might be; then she realized it was just Mark Ahern, the mailman. Her first thought was that he was running late on his route. Then he pulled up at the mailbox and waved.