Medicine Man. Cheryl Reavis
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home again. It’ll be nice having you and Scottie at Mrs. Bee’s.”
“Does Grace know about this thing with Will?”
“No-o-o-o,” Kate assured her. She gave her a peck on the cheek and left.
Arley stood staring at the cardboard box she’d been packing. She could try calling the hospital. She could leave a message for Will to call her. That would be easy enough. Or…
It occurred to her as her initial aggravation subsided that she was so used to the McGowan way, she wasn’t really all that surprised. They had their prejudices, not the least of which was their disdain for all things military, despite owing a good deal of their fortune to the proximity and spending power of the United States Army. But, for once, Arley decided she wasn’t going to act impulsively. She was going to think about her options, the possible repercussions, and the advantages of being sensible.
Or not.
Chapter Four
“You still here, Baron? Somebody was at the nursing station looking for you.”
Will looked up from the dressing he was changing. The message-bearer was one of the more mobile soldiers on the unit who entertained himself by rolling up and down the hall in a wheelchair all day gathering intelligence. At the moment he was working to get his chair to make a sharp U-turn so he could stop in the doorway.
“Who is it?” Will asked, but he was thinking, “Now what?”
“Don’t know,” the intelligence-gatherer said. “I just heard them trying to decide if you were still here or not.”
Will gave a quiet sigh and finished securing his patient’s fresh stump bandage in place, his mild pleasure that his workday might actually conclude without incident dissipating. He had no real reason to expect the worse—except for the way things had been going lately. Clearly, Coyote, the Navajo mischief-maker, functioned just as well here as he did on the reservation in Arizona, whether anybody believed in him or not.
“Okay, buddy,” he said to his patient. “You’re good to roll.”
“Thanks, man. It was getting pretty rank.”
Will stood back so the soldier could maneuver back into his wheelchair without any unwelcome help, then he cleaned up the area and walked into the corridor past the open doors and through the usual hospital din of miscellaneous television programs, conversations and music.
And a dog barking as quietly as a dog knew how, apparently on cue.
He’d forgotten the dogs were visiting the unit today. He stopped to let a portable X-ray machine roll out of one of the patient rooms, then continued toward the nurses’ station.
He saw Arley first, then the tall red-haired man standing close by.
“Patrick!” he said in disbelief.
“Hey, poco bro,” Patrick said, stepping forward and executing the male clasping-of-right-hands, inside-shoulder-bump greeting with ease. “Long time, no see.”
“What are you doing here?” Will said, still incredulous at finding him on post, of all places. “Is everybody okay?” He hadn’t heard anything good or bad about Patrick in weeks, except that nobody in the family knew where he was—again. Patrick never called or wrote letters. He just showed up—but in Window Rock, not on the other side of the country.
“Everybody’s fine. I came to see you, bro—he’s a good brother, but he’s not all that bright,” Patrick added to Arley, and she smiled. Clearly, he’d made her acquaintance while he was waiting.
“It’s—I’m…surprised,” Will said. The impact of seeing both Arley and Patrick where he didn’t expect to find either of them had left him speechless. He glanced at her. She was wearing a white sundress with yellow buttons, and she looked…so good. He’d forgotten how pretty she was, how…everything.
“So! Patrick! How long are you going to be here?” he asked his brother abruptly, forcing himself to look away from Arley. Patrick was wearing the expensive turquoise-and-silver cuff bracelet their uncle by marriage had had made for him years ago—a good sign that Patrick had a cash flow of sorts and hadn’t been forced to pawn it again.
“That would be hard to say,” Patrick said unhelpfully. He was trying not to grin, clearly enjoying himself for reasons Will had yet to determine. But then Patrick always enjoyed himself, even when he was sober.
But, as glad as Will was to see him, his focus was still on Arley.
“Are you looking for Kate?” he asked her.
“Well, no. It’s…I’m…”
“Ready to go when you are, bro,” Patrick interrupted. “You get to pick the restaurant—I’m buying.”
Will glanced at Arley again. She seemed about to say something more, but didn’t.
“Nice to meet you, Arley,” Patrick said to her, steering her attention in his direction. “Thanks for keeping me company.”
“It was nice to meet you, too.”
It should have been their cue to leave, but Patrick stood a moment longer.
“’Bye, Will,” Arley said and walked away.
He could feel Patrick looking at him, in a way that made him think his irrepressible half brother was on the verge of making some pithy remark.
But Patrick didn’t say anything, and he continued not saying anything all the way to the elevators and out of the hospital. He remained silent as they walked to where Patrick had parked his truck.
“What!” Will said finally when he couldn’t take it any longer.
“You working at the hospital tomorrow?” Patrick asked mildly, as if he’d been waiting for just such an opening.
“Yeah,” Will said cautiously.
“Day or evening?”
“Evening. Seven to seven. If not longer.”
“Good. No reason why we can’t visit and carry furniture.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She’s moving—Arley. I said we’d help.”
“I can’t help her move.”
“Sure you can.”
“No, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Will didn’t answer him. He was perfectly aware that it wasn’t because of a conversation between a couple of high-powered men on a golf course that he was refusing. It was because of how much he wanted to help her—and he wasn’t about to share that with his uncontainable brother.
“Look, bro. Her sister’s husband can’t do much carrying yet and everybody else they know with any muscle is either working or gone to the beach. We move a little furniture, maybe we get a beer out if it. No big deal, right?”
“Wrong.”
Patrick stared at him. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “My mistake.”
“Where—?” Will said when they reached Patrick’s beat-up truck—which was in approximately in the same rattletrap condition on the outside as the one Will drove. If they put the best parts of both of them together, they still wouldn’t have a decent-looking vehicle.
“Where what?” Patrick asked when Will didn’t go on.
“Where…is she moving?”
“What do you care?” Patrick said, grinning. “You can’t help.”
“Damn it, Patrick, where is she going?”
“She’s going to a Mrs. B’s house. I don’t know