The Coyote's Cry. Jackie Merritt
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returned in a minute and asked, “Is it all right if I sit on the bed next to her?”
“Of course.”
Jenna watched Gloria’s eyes follow her granddaughter until Willow was sitting on the bed. “Willow’s here, Gloria,” Jenna said gently.
“Hi, Gran,” Willow said, and took her hand. “Are you happy to be out of the hospital?”
“Ho…home.” Gloria slurred the word.
“Gran, you can’t go to your home yet. Here you have Bram…and Jenna. You remember Jenna Elliot, don’t you?”
Gloria turned her head and closed her eyes. Willow bit her lip and looked at Jenna. Then she mouthed, “What’s wrong?”
Jenna motioned her from the room, and when they were out of Gloria’s earshot she said quietly, “She’s not happy, Willow. She wants to be in her own home.”
“But she can’t be. Does she understand that she must get much better before she can go back to that apartment?”
“I don’t know what she understands,” Jenna said with an apologetic sigh.
“Jenna, is she really going to get better?”
“I don’t know that, either,” Jenna said softly. “I do know that she can improve speech and mobility through exercise. She’s not quite ready to begin that regimen, not today at any rate, but soon she should be. Right now she’s feeling terribly discouraged and…and lost.”
“How can we cheer her up?”
“By visiting as often as you can and talking to her. Tell her what you’re doing and what the rest of the family is doing. If she had any special interests, talk to her about those. If she read a lot, read aloud to her—the kind of books or magazines she enjoyed before this happened. Be yourself with her, and above all, don’t ever talk down to her, as though she’s now incapable of grasping what you tell her. She might not be as quick on the trigger as she was, but we still don’t know how affected her memory was by the stroke. And gradually, you’ll see some improvement in her attitude.”
Willow wiped away a tear. “I hope so.”
Before the afternoon was over, nearly every Colton had come by, each bearing a gift of food Gloria could eat in her present condition—homemade broth or a bowl of custard or a dish of raspberry gelatin, her favorite flavor.
But some also brought things for Bram and Jenna to eat. There was a delicious-smelling beef stew, a baked ham, several cakes and pies and numerous salads and casseroles. Jenna realized that neither she nor Bram would have to do any cooking for days.
At five Jenna warmed some of Willow’s chicken broth and prepared a tray for Gloria. She couldn’t quite manage to feed herself yet, and Jenna sat on the bed and gently spooned broth, gelatin and custard into her patient’s mouth. After a few bites of each, Gloria turned her head.
“You really must eat more than that,” Jenna said in a genuinely kind voice.
But Gloria closed her eyes, and that was the end of dinner for her. Frowning and troubled, Jenna carried the tray back to the kitchen. She was rinsing dishes for the dishwasher when she heard Bram’s SUV drive in and park.
Jenna had spotted Bram’s dog through various windows several times that day, and when she heard joyous barking, she went to the kitchen window to see what was happening. Bram had knelt to hug his black-and-white dog, a pretty little thing, Jenna thought, and Bram’s obvious affection for his pet revealed a side of him that Jenna had never seen. Actually, it made her wonder if her previous opinion about Bram avoiding her because of her father’s intolerance was on the mark or if he simply didn’t like her and never had.
But if he didn’t like her, why in heaven’s name was she so smitten by him? Couldn’t her hormones tell the difference between an interested and an uninterested man? Shouldn’t her own reactions to the opposite sex be more accurate than they apparently were with Bram?
Bram stood up and Jenna ducked away from the window so he wouldn’t catch her watching him. She heard him come in and then call, “Jenna!”
Leaving the kitchen, she hurried to the front door entry. “What?”
“Can my dog come in the house?”
“Why are you asking me?”
Bram thinned his lips. “Because you’ve got rules. Nellie is used to coming inside, but if you don’t want a dog in the house because of Gran—”
Jenna broke in. “Is Nellie going to jump on the bed and give Gloria fleas?”
“She doesn’t have fleas!”
“I was only kidding. Pets are very good medicine for people in Gloria’s condition. By all means, let Nellie come in.”
Bram opened the door and Nellie came bounding in. “Settle down, Nellie,” he said quietly, and the collie immediately obeyed.
“She’s awfully cute,” Jenna said. “Is she friendly with strangers?”
Nellie was, but Bram wouldn’t give Jenna the satisfaction of saying so. Her nervy intrusion on his quiet life galled him, especially when he was with her again and seeing those glorious blue eyes and that golden hair.
“Sorry, but no. I recommend you give her a pretty wide berth until she gets used to you being here.”
“All right,” Jenna said with a soft sigh that ripped through Bram like a buzz saw cutting wood. The cut was just as sharp and jagged, and he wished he hadn’t lied to her.
But it was done, and if Jenna had any backbone at all she’d discover Nellie’s love of mankind in very short order.
“What breed is she?”
“Border collie. They’re natural-born herders. What smells good?”
“Most of your family brought something to eat with them when they dropped in to see your grandmother. It’s all in the kitchen. Help yourself.”
So, she didn’t intend that they eat together. Fine, he didn’t want to eat with her, anyhow. “I’m not hungry,” he said gruffly. “I ate in town.” Bram walked off, leaving Jenna to cautiously keep an eye on his vicious Nellie, who was lying down with her nose on her front paws, closely watching Jenna. How was Jenna to know that the collie was so watchful because she never missed a chance to herd, and maybe this nice lady would run around the house and let Nellie herd her from room to room?
“Bram Colton,” Jenna whispered, “I absolutely, positively loathe you.”
Right at that moment, it was the truth.
Chapter Three
The chiming of the doorbell startled Jenna, who’d been so involved with Bram and his watchful dog that she hadn’t heard the arrival of another vehicle. But all afternoon the visiting Coltons had merely rapped once and walked in, some of them not even bothering to announce their arrival with that cursory knock. Thus Jenna was pretty certain that whoever had rung the doorbell was not a Colton. She glanced toward the master bedroom to see if Bram had heard the chimes, but it appeared that either he hadn’t or he was ignoring the caller.
Giving Nellie a warning look that Jenna hoped the dog would interpret to mean, “Don’t you dare move from that spot,” Jenna went to the door herself. Opening it, she could hardly believe her eyes.
“Dad!”
Carl Elliot’s face was dark red with anger. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded. “Staying in a damn Indian’s house. Don’t you have any pride?”
“I’m working! I’m taking care of Mrs. Colton.”
“You’re living with an Indian man! This is his house!”
“I