He gave her a wry smile. “Spoken like a medical professional. Guess it was crazy of me to think you might not notice.”
“Not notice? How could I not notice?” Her voice rose, edged with panic. “You’re in pain, you’re limping, you’ve lost about thirty pounds. Oh, Toby, why didn’t you tell me you were this sick?”
He wouldn’t look at her. “Didn’t want to worry you, I guess.” He gave a hopeless shrug. “And once I got diagnosed, there was nothing to be done, anyway.”
Terror gripped her. “What do you mean? There’s always something. Who did you see, I’ll get you a referral—” She stopped abruptly to take a deep breath. “Okay, Tobe. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
“It started over a year ago,” he said with resigned sigh. “Joints aching, tired all the time, no appetite.”
Jordan remembered passing comments he’d made, but she’d never suspected anything serious.
“I went to the doctor, and he said I had a flu that was going around. But then I started losing sensation in my hands, and the pain got so bad I finally went back. This time he ran some tests, and sent me to a specialist who ran more tests. I’ve had so many needles stuck in me it’s a wonder I’m not leaking.” He tried for a grin but missed.
“And? What were the results?”
“Side effects from neurotoxins in the chemicals I use for boatbuilding.” His tone was ultracasual. “The kind of boats I build, you have to use fiberglass and other compounds. I just wasn’t ever very careful. They’ve done some damage to my central nervous system.”
Neurotoxins. Cold horror started in Jordan’s belly and moved upward to her heart. Central nervous system damage. There was no known antidote for that condition. “Were the blood tests conclusive?”
“Apparently. I saw several specialists, and they all agreed. They suggested a good balanced diet and heavy doses of B vitamins, and told me to quit my day job. One came right out and said that what I had wasn’t curable at this time. And when I forced it out of him, he didn’t hold out much hope that I’d make old bones.”
“We’ll see about that. I’ll run my own tests in the morning. I know the lab guys at St. Joe’s, they’ll work them up right away as a favor.” Jordan thought that the dinner she’d just eaten was going to come back up. It was inconceivable that her brother was terminally ill.
“More needles?” Toby groaned and shook his head. “I’d rather not, I doubt I’ve got enough blood left as it is. You guys and Dracula have a lot in common, know that? Besides, they were pretty certain that’s what the problem was, why go through it all again?”
“Because I’m stubborn and I never rely on any diagnosis but my own.” That wasn’t entirely true, but she wasn’t about to accept what amounted to a death sentence, not when it came to her brother.
“I dunno, Jordan—”
Hearing a knock at the door, Jordan opened it to let Christina in.
“It’s still pouring out there,” she said, shucking off her jacket and shaking rain from her thick mop of black hair. “Hey, you are cute,” she said with a killer smile, extending her hand to Toby. “Can’t always trust sisters, they tend to exaggerate. I’m Christina Crow, Jordan’s right-hand nurse.”
“And best friend,” Jordan added, realizing after she’d said it that it was true. Christina had become closer to her than any woman ever had. “Meet my big brother, Toby Burke.” It took effort to sound lighthearted. It took effort to keep from throwing herself on the floor and screaming at the injustice of life.
With some difficulty, Toby got to his feet and shook Christina’s hand. “Great to meet you. Nice to know someone’s taking care of my baby sister.”
Christina laughed. “You’ve got that ass-backwards. She’s the one taking care of us.”
Jordan knew that Christina must recognize the signs of serious illness in her brother, but the other woman was far too professional to show it.
“Jordan says you’re a master boatbuilder. When my kid brother Patwin finds that out, he’s gonna be dogging your heels and driving you nuts asking questions.”
“There’s nothing I love more than talking about myself and what I do,” Toby said with a grin. “Doesn’t everybody?”
Jordan poured wine for Christina, who sipped it and whistled in appreciation. “Wow. That’s Opus One, a Robert Mondavi Bordeaux, right?”
Toby tilted the bottle and read the label. He whistled. “How the heck did you know that?”
Christina smirked, pleased with herself. “When I was in university, a group of us decided to become wine snobs. I did my homework.”
“Well, I’m impressed,” Jordan said.
“So am I,” echoed Toby, but from the bemused expression on his face as he looked at Christina, Jordan thought his reasons were vastly different than hers. When she asked if it was all right if Toby used one of the examining rooms to sleep in, Christina jumped to make up the bed for him while Jordan put on another pot of coffee.
The three of them talked past midnight. Hauling photos out of his pack, Toby showed them the boats he’d built, some of them in exotic locations like Hawaii and Thailand.
Jordan looked at the sleek, shiny yachts and wanted to rip the pictures up. These rich-man toys were the reason her brother was sick.
Toby held up a single grainy black-and-white snapshot mixed in the bunch, of Toby and Jordan at about four and two, holding their mother’s hands in front of an old Ford.
“Dad’s first car,” he said. The hand holding the photo was trembling, but Jordan tried not to notice. She studied the photo.
“God, Mom was so beautiful, I didn’t know you had this. Can I have a copy of it? I only have two pictures of Mom.” And one was her parents’ wedding photo, which was pretty much destroyed. When Jordan was a teen, she’d used nail scissors and carefully eradicated her father from the picture.
“You look exactly like her,” Christina said, peering over Jordan’s shoulder. “Same gorgeous bones, aristocratic nose, sexy mouth.”
“We’ve both got Dad’s blue eyes, though,” Toby said. “Mom’s were hazel, if I remember right.”
“I know your mother died really young,” Christina said. “What about your dad?”
There was an awkward silence.
“Dad’s still alive,” Toby finally said. “He’s not doing too well, though. He’s in a care facility in Vancouver.”
“Sorry, I just assumed—” Christina glanced at Jordan’s shuttered expression. She got up and grabbed her jacket from the peg by the door.
“It’s time I headed home, got to get to work in the morning. My boss is a stickler for being on time.”
“The old bag will probably be late herself,” Jordan said. The last thing she wanted to think about tonight was Mike Burke.
After Christina left, Jordan opened the connecting door to the clinic and showed Toby where he’d be sleeping.
“Unless we have a major emergency, we won’t be using the room,” she assured him. “So sleep as late as you like, we’ll try to keep the noise level to a minimum.”
“I can’t seem to manage more than three or four hours at a stretch these nights, so don’t worry about me.” Toby wrapped his arms around her, pressing his lips to her hair. “Thanks, squirt. I feel at home already.”
Loving the feel of his arms around her, Jordan hugged him back hard. His ribs made her feel as though she were hugging a skeleton. Appalled, the fear she’d tried to subdue came rushing to the surface.
“How long can you stay, Toby?” She hadn’t dared ask until now.
“No set time limit,” he said with a shuddering sigh. “I’m afraid I don’t feel up to working at the moment, and even if I did, I’d have to find another kind of job. My days as a boatbuilder are over. But the good news is I’ve invested my money, so I can afford to retire young.”
He’d kept his voice steady, but Jordan could sense the desperation and sadness that underlined the words. “I can’t think of a better gift than having you a
round for a very long while. You need time to just relax and heal, Toby.”
“I dunno, squirt.” He drew back, not meeting her eyes. “Maybe I’m not going to get over this.” He gave a ghost of a laugh. “You know, I’m glad I didn’t get married or have kids. It’s easier to die when nobody’s depending on you.”
His words tore Jordan apart. “Don’t you dare talk about dying.” Her voice was fierce and furious. “I’ll murder you myself if I hear you say anything like that again.”
“Okay, Doc.” He grinned and bumped her chin gently with his fist. “See you in the morning.”
Jordan went back to her own bedroom, certain she wouldn’t sleep. For an hour, she went over everything she knew about neurotoxic poisoning, which wasn’t very much. She’d only seen two cases at St. Joe’s. Both men had been admitted, and later died. But Toby would survive. He had to survive. She’d find a way, medical science must have developed something to treat the condition by now.
Toby’s going to get over this. He’s going to be fine. She repeated it over and over in a sort of mantra until at last, worn out, she fell asleep.
SHE OVERSLEPT THE NEXT morning. When she finally stumbled into the kitchen, Toby had the woodstove going and a pot of coffee almost ready. There were eggs in the black iron frying pan, and bread sliced for toast.
“I lived in a shack in Mexico once and learned how to cook on stoves like this,” he announced proudly, pouring Jordan a mug of coffee. “How do you want your eggs?”
She thought of the blood tests she wanted to take. “Have you had coffee yet? Or any food?”
“Not yet.”
“Good. Come into the clinic with me, and I’ll draw blood for those tests.” Most doctors weren’t good at that particular procedure, but she’d improved her technique with the help of a tech at St. Joe’s. He’d been an addict himself, and he was an expert.
“Ah, Jordan, I wish you’d just skip this. We already know what it is.” Muttering under his breath, he followed her, averting his eyes as she expertly poked him and filled vials with his dark blood.
“Done,” she announced after a few moments.
“Don’t drink it all at once,” he growled as she carefully labeled the vials and then took him back to her apartment.
“Did you sleep at all, Toby?” There were dark shadows under his eyes, and in the morning light he looked gray and fragile.
“As much as I ever do. I got up around five when it stopped raining. Two little guys, Michael and Eli, came by just after six. Neat kids. They brought some kindling for the stove and that loaf of fresh bread, and they offered to give me a guided tour of the village.”
“Eli is Christina’s son.”
Jordan saw the expression on his face change and added, “She’s a single mom. She and Eli live with her mom and dad.”
“She’s doing a great job, he’s a nice kid.”
Jordan swallowed the coffee he’d poured and sighed with pleasure. “They’re both great kids. They bring me kindling to light this monster of a stove. I buy fresh bread from Michael’s mother, and they run errands whenever I need them.” She thought of them outside the window, making sure Garry wasn’t going to turn violent, and had to swallow hard. “They’re sweet and thoughtful, and what they don’t know isn’t worth knowing. They have ears like small elephants.”
“Apparently. They asked me if I knew the bad man called Garry who was here the other day visiting you. They said he was a junkie. Is that true, Jordan?”
“Yes, it is. He turned up without any warning.” She should have known that absolutely nothing stayed secret around here. And haven’t I learned that secrets are dangerous?
“He won’t be back,” she added. “He’s in a jail cell in Tofino. He ransacked my medical bag and stole drugs and prescription pads. I had him arrested when he got off the water taxi.”
“Too bad I didn’t get here a little sooner.” Toby clenched his teeth, his voice cold.
Jordan looked at her frail brother and was endlessly grateful he hadn’t been there. Toby’s spirit might be that of a mountain lion, but he wasn’t strong physically.
“You didn’t tell me about the drugs, squirt.”
“No. I—I didn’t tell anyone for a long time. I was ashamed. I guess I felt that in some way it was my fault. It started with that accident he had.”
She outlined the sequence of events, holding nothing back, not even the breakdown she’d had, or her short stay on the psych ward. Talking about it was cathartic, and she wondered again why she hadn’t been just as honest with Silas.
“I kept thinking he’d get over it. I guess doctors are the worst at facing up to sickness when it’s someone they love.”
Oh, God. Toby.
For a moment she could hardly get her breath.
Toby took her hand. “Are you legally free of him now?”
“Not quite. He’s been stonewalling, but this latest prank will give my lawyer leverage. I can’t wait for the divorce to go through. I made such a bad mistake, marrying him.” She expected Toby to agree.
Instead, he shook his head. “I think whatever happens, happens for a reason,” he said slowly. “When I look back on everything, I can see how much I learned from it, even the time I spent in jail. It was all an opportunity.”
Aghast, she stared at him. “You can’t really believe that. What about your health, Toby? How can this possibly be an opportunity?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it’s time for me to make a change. I had this girlfriend in Mexico, she made me think about a lot of stuff like that.”
“How come you broke up with her?”
“I have this problem with commitment. At least, that’s what she claimed when she walked out.” He poured more coffee. “You think you’ll ever get married again, Jordan?”
“Not likely.” But for some reason, Silas popped into her head, which was ridiculous. “There’s a theory that people attract what’s familiar to them, and for me that’s obviously guys with substance abuse problems, like Garry.”
“Because of Dad.” Toby stirred sugar into his cup.
“Because of Dad.”
“Well, he doesn’t drink at all anymore, hasn’t for quite a while.” Toby’s voice became urgent. “Take a couple days off and come with me to Vancouver, Jordan. I talked to the doctor at the nursing home, he says Dad’s liver is shot and his kidneys are failing. It might be the last time we get to see him.”
She didn’t even have to think about it. “I’ve got nothing to say to him. He abandoned us, Toby. You’re a better person than I am, forgiving him for that.”
“It’s easier than holding on to bad feelings, squirt. I just don’t have the energy.”
She didn’t want to hear any more about Mike. “Are you going to make me those eggs you promised? Because you won’t like the way they turn out when I fry them. Christina’s mom has been trying her best to teach me how to cook but it looks like a lost cause.”
“Christina’s a babe.” He broke eggs into the pan and added salt and pepper. “Can she cook?”
“Absolutely. Everybody around here can. Except me.”
“I think I’ll ask her to marry me.”
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
“Maybe hold off a day or so, I don’t want to seem too eager.”
Relieved that she’d gotten him away from talking about Mike, Jordan popped bread into the toaster.
He set her plate of eggs on the table, and Jordan noticed that he had to use both hands to keep from dropping it. Sitting across from her, his hand shook violently as he tried to get eggs into his mouth. He finally set the fork down and with some difficulty, got to his feet. “I think I’ll find my guides and do the tourist thing. See you later, Jordan.” He grabbed his jacket and fumbled his way into it.
Watching him limp out the door, Jordan lost her appetite. She scraped the remains of their food into the garbage.
The blood she’d drawn that morning would determine whether or not she needed to worry. Until t
he results came back, she’d try her best to put her fears on hold.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“SO THERE’S NO REAL treatment that you know about?” Christina was putting the vials of Toby’s blood into special protective containers and then sealing them into a Purolator express envelope. Louie would take them to the dispatch office in Tofino, and they’d be in the lab at St. Joe’s by that afternoon.
“No. All I’m hoping is that the diagnosis the other doctors made left some room for doubt.” Jordan had been struggling to stay optimistic, but it was difficult.
“When will you get the results?”
“Maybe tomorrow. The head tech, Beryl Frazier, is a friend of mine—she’ll work them up fast. I gave her my cell number and asked her to call the moment she knows.”
“I really hope those other guys were wrong. I like your brother a lot.”
“God, so do I,” Jordan sighed. “On both counts.”
Christina waited a beat and then said, “Speaking of brothers, what’s up with you and Silas? Things seemed to be going like hotcakes. But when he came by the house this morning to talk to Patwin and I told him Toby was visiting, Silas got his wooden-totem-pole look. He’ll never tell me, so what’s up?”
The old Jordan might not have told, either. The new, revised edition stopped the chart work and took a deep breath.
“As far as I can tell, he’d avoiding me like I’ve got the Ebola virus. And this is what I did to earn it,” she said, and told Christina in detail, not sparing herself. “He hasn’t spoken to me since Garry was here, when Eli and Michael spilled the beans.”
“Damn that kid of mine. I should have sent him to summer camp rather than let him run wild around here with Michael.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger. It was my fault, not theirs.”
“Silas is obviously being a bonehead about this,” Christina said. “So you didn’t tell him the entire truth the moment you two met, and you were a little generous with the facts about your divorce. Nobody’s perfect, not even my sainted bro.”
“Yes—that environmental thing with the toilet.”
“Yeah, that scares the hell out of me, too,” Christina agreed. “No water, his toilet freaks me out, how can that possibly work? But seriously. In my opinion, the guy has major issues with abandonment, which makes him one of those modern breed of guys who can’t seem to commit. Notice how well I picked up on the jargon in that course I took on psych nursing?”
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