Healing Chay

by Donna Fasano

  The soft knock on the front door had Brenda’s whole body tensing with panic. “Oh, Lordy, he’s come for me.” She looked ready to bolt.

  “It’s okay,” Tori assured the woman. “It’s the doctor. Remember? When I went to put the coffee on, I told you I called Dr. Makwa. It’s okay. You can trust him. Besides, he won’t know your full name. I’d never betray your trust, Brenda. Never.”

  Tori had seen this phenomenon before. Fear and anxiety had a way of eating at the mind, filling it with holes, until holding on to information became nearly impossible. But this would pass. Time could make both the mind and body whole again. All the woman needed was time for her mind to clear and a place to feel safe.

  “You sure it ain’t Tommie?”

  Tori kept her tone gentle. “Brenda, your husband has no idea where you are.” She got up, purposely moving slowly and easily. “You stay right here and I’ll go answer the door.”

  The man standing on the wide front porch had the most gorgeous green eyes imaginable. As usual, Dr. Dakota Makwa had his long black hair secured in a single braid down his back. Tori had met the man a year or so ago when he’d returned to Misty Glen to practice medicine on the reservation. He’d been kind enough to hire Lyssa Palmer, a woman who had found herself pregnant and fleeing an ex who insisted on stalking her. Dakota and Lyssa had married as a means of keeping Lyssa safe. Then fate had stepped in, bringing love along with it, and the two were now devoted to one another. Matchmaking hadn’t been Tori’s motive when she’d introduced them, but it was a title she was happy to have.

  “Thanks for coming.” She ushered Dakota into the foyer.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “In the living room. But we need to go slow. She’s awfully scared.”

  Dakota nodded his understanding. He set down his black bag and shrugged into a white lab coat that had been draped over his arm. It helped the panicky women to see him as a professional.

  “What’s her name?” He fastened a button, straightened the collar.

  “Brenda.”

  First names only. That had been their agreement from the beginning. For the women’s protection, Tori would do what she could to hide their identities.

  Again he nodded. He picked up his doctor’s bag. “Let’s go.”

  The battered Brenda looked like a cornered animal when Tori entered the room. Softly she said, “This is Dr. Dakota Makwa. His office is over on the reservation. And he lives over there.”

  Dakota stopped in the doorway, keeping his distance. “Hi, Brenda.”

  Alarm had Brenda gasping as her gaze flew to Tori’s face. It was almost as if Tori could hear the woman’s silent fears.

  He knows my name! I don’t want this man near me! I don’t want any man near me!

  Calmly Tori reminded her, “First names only, remember? Dakota knows you only as Brenda. He won’t tell anyone that you’re here. He’s only here to help you.”

  The anxiety in the woman’s muddy gaze didn’t diminish much. Dakota didn’t move. Tori knew he wouldn’t until Brenda gave some sign of granting him permission. Treating these women with the utmost respect was the first step toward granting them a sense of empowerment.

  “I… I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” As the woman spoke, she turned away.

  Tori said, “You’re hurt, Brenda. You’ve got a gash on your head. And it looks like your nose is broken. Dakota can fix you up. You don’t want to go through life with a scar on your face and a crooked nose.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “What does it matter?”

  “Oh, come on, now.” Tori rounded the chair. “You might not think it matters now. But you will. I promise. In time.”

  Dakota remained on the threshold of the room, unmoving as he waited for the woman’s consent.

  Finally Brenda nodded once, and the doctor approached.

  “I cleaned the cut,” Tori told him. “And tried to pinch it together with a dressing tape.”

  “That’s just fine.” Dakota gently eased the tape off Brenda’s temple. “Doesn’t look too bad. I’m going to use a bit of antiseptic ointment and then apply some surgical tape. Less chance of scarring than if I were to actually stitch it.”

  Tori could see Brenda growing antsy. Thankfully, Dakota worked quickly.

  “Now for the nose. I’m going to have to reset it.” He leaned back and looked into Brenda’s eyes. “This is going to hurt.”

  The woman’s jaw clenched, her gaze relating plainly that pain was something she was used to.

  Once her nose was taped, Brenda began to weep.

  “I don’t want nobody to see me.” Her tone was pleading. “Make him go away, Tori.”

  Dakota immediately began gathering his things together. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling stronger,” he told Brenda. “You need to get some rest.” He looked over at the sofa where the child slept. “Does he need attention?”

  “He’s fine,” she told him. “He’s afraid. And tired.”

  Tori left Brenda watching over her sleeping son and walked Dakota to the door.

  “Here’s a mild sedative for her.” He slipped a small bottle into Tori’s hand. “To help her sleep. But I’m only leaving three. You dole them out.”

  “Thanks,” Tori told him, accepting the pills. “For everything.”

  He paused at the door, his smile sad. “I just feel so bad that this kind of stuff has to happen. You’re a good woman, Tori Landing.” He sighed, forcing himself to brighten. “Lyssa sends her love.”

  Tori reached out and placed her hand on Dakota’s sleeve. “How’s she feeling?”

  The New Year would bring a baby to the Makwa household. Tori was so happy that her friends had found each other.

  “She’s well,” Dakota told her. “The baby’s growing every day. Her belly’s getting big, much to her dismay.”

  He chuckled, and Tori was very aware of the love he felt for his wife.

  Then a shadow flickered across the doctor’s green gaze.

  “Can I ask you something, Tori?”

  “Of course,” she told him. “Anything.”

  Dakota looked discomfited, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to voice his thoughts. Finally he said, “My brother told me you’d seen our cousin Chay. That you thought he might be staying at the hunting lodge.”

  “Yes, I did mention that to Mat. At the craft fair.”

  Hesitation tinged Dakota’s tone as he admitted, “I don’t usually pry into other people’s business, but I’m worried about Chay. You see, he’s been back on the rez for weeks, but he hasn’t come into town to see any of us. I’m concerned.”

  An uncomfortable awkwardness crept over Tori. She felt that it would be somehow disloyal of her to discuss the matter with Dakota. Still, Dakota had been such a great help to her. He’d volunteered his time and talent to treat the women who came to her for shelter. And the worry darkening the doctor’s gaze wrenched her heart.

  “I was wondering,” he said softly, “if you’d seen him again? If you’d seen with your own eyes that, well, that he’s okay?”

  It would have been cruel of her not to relieve Dakota’s anxiety.

  “I’ve seen him,” she acknowledged. “He’s fine. In fact, he had dinner here with me last night.”

  The relief this information gave Dakota was evident. His brow smoothed, his eyes cleared.

  “That’s great,” he said. He actually smiled. “I’m glad to hear he’s no longer living like a recluse.”

  Tori patted his forearm. “He really is okay.”

  Memories of Chay swarmed into her mind: the intensity in his onyx gaze, the heat in his touch, the desire in his kiss. She felt her face grow warm.

  “Listen,” Dakota said, “if you get the chance, would you try to get Chay to come visit us? We’d like to see him. All of us.”

  “I will,” she promised. “I think that would be good… for everyone.”

  Dakota lifted his hand in farewell and went out the door.

  Cha
pter Four

  The soft knock on her bedroom door awoke Tori with a start. During the three days that Brenda and Scotty had been staying with her, they hadn’t made a peep. The two of them had barely ventured down the stairs for any longer than it took them to eat their meals.

  This recluse-like behavior was relatively normal in the women who came to stay with her. The abused had a strong psychological attachment to their abusers. It took days, often a week or more, before the battered women realized that they could actually exist on their own, that they wouldn’t shrivel and die living apart from their partners, that they would continue breathing… thinking… feeling. However, discovering that they could thrive on their own was something that took months of counseling.

  Slipping from beneath the sheets, Tori pulled on her jeans and tugged a V-necked sweater over her head. “Come in, Brenda,” she called, her heart racing as she wondered what would have the woman seeking her out so early.

  Fear fairly pulsed from the woman—Tori could almost feel it.

  “There’s a man,” she said. “Out back.”

  Tori slipped her feet into canvas sneakers, not bothering to tie them.

  “Does he look familiar?” she asked Brenda, mentally estimating how long it would take the police to arrive should she need to summon them.

  The woman shook her head. “He’s messing around that building out back.”

  Chay.

  The name whispered through Tori’s mind like a cool autumn breeze. She hadn’t seen him since he’d come for dinner. The same night that Brenda had arrived.

  “I think I know who it is,” she told Brenda. “It’s okay.”

  It was clear the woman didn’t believe her.

  “But what if—”

  “It’s okay,” Tori repeated softly. “I’ll go talk to him. See what he wants.”

  “Can you make him go away?”

  “Let me see why he’s here.” Tori paused at the doorway long enough to smooth a reassuring palm over Brenda’s shoulder. “Get Scotty some breakfast. There are eggs in the fridge. Cereal in the pantry. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t tell nobody me and Scotty are here. Tommie is lookin’ for us.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she whispered, then offered Brenda a smile.

  The built-up tension in the woman kept her from returning it. “We’ll stay upstairs till he’s gone.”

  The pleading in Brenda’s tone echoed in Tori’s head and set her heart to aching something fierce. Susan’s tone had held that same imploring quality when she’d run to Tori for help. But time and again, her sister had made the worst mistake possible. She’d forgiven her abuser, returned to the husband who’d made promise after promise that, this time, things would be different.

  Susan’s short life had been filled with broken promises.

  The scent of coffee hit Tori’s nostrils before she even entered the kitchen. She paused long enough to pour herself some, even as she realized she didn’t need any caffeine. The prospect of seeing Chay had her feeling wide awake.

  Autumn crisped the air and Tori cradled the warm mug in her hands as she tramped across the expanse of lawn to the carriage house. The door was wide open and she stepped inside. Chay was on his knees, his rock-hard thighs straining against the fabric of his worn denims as he jotted down what looked to be a measurement on a pad of paper.

  “Good morning,” she called.

  He looked up and smiled a greeting, and something astonishing happened. Tori’s stomach knotted up, and her chest constricted. There was just something about this man that knocked her off-kilter.

  “I’d have brought you some coffee,” she told him, “but I don’t know how you like it.”

  The metal tape measure snapped as he reeled it back into its housing. He left it there on the floor with the pad and pencil and straightened. “That’s okay.” He crossed the few feet that stood between them. “But it does smell good. I’ll just have a taste of yours, if you don’t mind.”

  “W-well, sure.”

  He didn’t exactly take the coffee from her, just wrapped his fingers around hers and lowered his mouth to the rim, tipping the mug up just enough to get a mouthful. When he raised his head, his bottom lip, moist, glistening, and Tori helplessly speculated what his kiss might taste like were she to have the opportunity to savor the rich coffee essence of it. She blinked. Drew in a slow, deep breath.

  “So… whatcha doing?” she asked.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I was making a materials list for the renovation.”

  “B-but,” she stammered, “I only asked for some advice the other day. I didn’t expect you to do any actual work.”

  “I know you didn’t.” He nodded, a thick lock of his long black hair falling across his muscular biceps. His gaze slipped from hers as he continued, “But I’ve been thinking about what you want done. Refinish the floor, add a wall, insulate the rafters, put in a ceiling, replace the doors and windows, put in some plumbing and bath fixtures…”

  As he made the verbal list he meandered to the far corner of the carriage house where he’d been busy measuring, his mind obviously focused on the job at hand.

  “It would be a fairly easy and straightforward job to coordinate,” he told her. “And since you don’t have any paying customers at the moment…”

  “Well, that’s true,” she offered quietly. It wasn’t too big a lie. Brenda and Scotty weren’t giving her a penny while they stayed with her. “But—”

  “Now would be as good a time as any to get this renovation done.”

  He’d paced back toward her, his gaze flitting here and there. Unwittingly, he shoved his fingers through his hair. “We need an electrician to bring this wiring up to code, a plumber to install the pipes. I can have the building inspector out here for final approval in, oh, I’d say about three weeks should be plenty of time. A month at the very most.”

  “I don’t know….”

  Now was not the best time for her to do anything. She was too involved with developing a trusting bond with Brenda and Scotty, counseling them, lining up resources—a place for them to live and work and go to school just as soon as they were ready to venture out into life on their own.

  But then Chay’s dark gaze leveled on hers, and something in his eyes made every thought of her needy guests slip right out of her head.

  “I need to do this, Tori,” he said. “I’ve been going crazy after weeks in the woods. That cabin’s becoming a cage. I told you I came home to find some answers, and I know they’ll come. But I can’t say when, and I need something to focus my energies on until they do.”

  The words seemed to tumble from him, the need for understanding turning his onyx eyes awesomely intense, and before Tori even realized she’d opened her mouth, before she’d had time to comprehend all the complications this was going to add to her life, she murmured, “Well, I guess it’ll be okay.”

  ~oOo~

  Before too long, Tori found herself sitting beside Chay in his pickup truck as they headed for the neighboring town of Mountview, where the nearest lumberyard was located.

  In order to give herself time to run a comb through her hair, wash the sleep from her eyes, brush her teeth, get herself dressed, Tori had agreed with Chay’s suggestion that he walk back to the cabin to retrieve his truck and then drive back to the inn to pick her up.

  Just as she’d promised, Brenda had made herself scarce. Tori had found mother and son cloistered in the big, airy bedroom upstairs, Scotty playing some game on his mother’s phone and Brenda sitting in a chair, her thoughts miles away.

  “I’m going into town,” she’d said to Brenda.

  The woman had only nodded.

  “Do you need anything?” Tori had asked.

  Brenda had sighed and shaken her head.

  Tori offered Scotty a smile. The poor child had hovered protectively near his mother since their arrival, would hardly leave her side for more than a few moments at a time. He’d witnessed things that no child should, wa
s being forced to grow up way before his time. The youngster should be out playing soccer and baseball, or racing around on a bicycle with friends, not taking on the role of sentry and coming to grips with his disenchantment regarding his father’s behavior.

  Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

  Tori knew that very, very soon she was going to have to gently suggest that Brenda allow Scotty to go back to school. Both mother and son needed a few days to regroup, but returning to a normal routine would be best for the child. However, that was a worry to be taken care of tomorrow. Right now Tori had other concerns on her mind.

  She glanced over at Chay as he sat behind the steering wheel, his chin tipped up a fraction, his swarthy complexion regal, his dark gaze on the road. But she knew that beneath that proud profile there was a troubled mind. The plight he found himself in required just as much compassion and understanding as that of the guests she was harboring at Freedom Trail. Granted, Chay wasn’t living under the same kind of threat to his physical safety, but he was suffering from some sort of psychological distress.

  She splayed her palm on the smooth leather seat. “Nice truck,” she commented.

  “Thanks. It’s one of an eight-truck fleet.”

  Tori smiled. “You own a fleet of trucks?”

  She found the sound of Chay’s light laughter delightful.

  “Don’t be too impressed,” he told her. “Black Bear Contracting offers site managers the use of the trucks for transportation to and from work. My employees see it as a perk for them. I see it as a perk for me.”

  She nodded, understanding his unspoken words.

  “Providing transportation gives your workers one less excuse for not showing up.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Black Bear Construction,” she said. “How did you come up with the name?”

  “Makwa means black bear in my native language.”

  Tori’s lips pursed into a silent oh.

  “The bear paw on my logo is memorable, I think.” After a second, Chay told her, “I sure do have a great group of guys working for me. They’ve kept the business afloat without me for months now.”