Читать книгу The Coyote's Cry - Jackie Merritt - Страница 11

Will and Ellie offered sympathy and any help Bram might need when he told them about Gran. There were so many Coltons, though, that assistance from anyone outside the family wasn’t likely to be needed. Still, the Mitchells’ gesture was heartfelt and genuine, and Bram appreciated their concern.

Bram put work and everything else out of his mind and spent almost the entire weekend at the hospital. The rest of the family came and went, each spending a few minutes in Gran’s room and hoping to hear some good news. Actually, there was no news at all, either good or bad. The doctors and nurses that Bram waylaid in the halls and in Gran’s room had only one message to impart: there would not be a credible diagnosis or prognosis until all of the test results came in, which would occur sometime on Monday or Tuesday.

Time had never moved so slowly for Bram. He drank too much bad coffee and worried. He walked the floors of various waiting rooms and worried. He sat slouched on one uncomfortable chair after another and worried. And he took only an occasional break from his self-imposed post to dash home to the ranch for a shower, shave and clean clothes.

He kept putting off that drive out to Great-grandfather George’s place because merely telling him that his daughter was in the hospital, obviously seriously ill, wasn’t enough. It would be much better to convey the news with some concrete information from the doctors about her condition, Bram rationalized, which he would have along with the test results in a day or two. Sharing incomplete and possibly false information based on Bram’s own fears might extinguish the small light still burning in George WhiteBear’s ancient chest, and Bram wouldn’t take that chance.

On Monday he had to tend to his job. He talked to the family and made sure that there would always be at least one Colton at the hospital, around the clock. Most of them worked, too, but they coordinated their hours off, which should have eased some of Bram’s concern but didn’t. Monday was a bad day for him, yet he ran to the hospital every chance he got just to look in on Gran, to make sure she was still breathing. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, which he tried to ignore or at least minimize, and couldn’t.

It was while Bram was with Gloria on one of his quick stops that she opened her eyes and tried to speak. He jumped up from the chair he’d been anxiously perched on, and took her hand. “Gran,” he said gently, though his heart was in his throat and unshed tears stung his eyes.

She tried to speak again, failed, and he saw painful understanding in her eyes. “It’s okay, Gran.”

She made angry noises. It wasn’t okay, and Bram didn’t have to hear the words to know what she meant. And then she got out a word. “Home!”

Bram sucked in a breath. “I know. You want to go home. I’m working on it, Gran.”

Gloria’s eyes closed again and Bram held her limp little hand for a while longer, then returned to his chair. He swore on all that was holy that he would take her home to either live or die. She would do neither in this or any other hospital.

Finally, on Tuesday morning, the Colton family heard what they already knew in their hearts. Gran had suffered a serious stroke. They also heard details that made them weep. Gran was partially paralyzed, her speech was impaired and her short-term memory was possibly eradicated, or no longer in chronological order. Her vision was cloudy and she would suffer bouts of dizziness and confusion. Full recovery at her age should not be expected, but speech and mobility could be greatly improved with physical therapy.

Bram spoke for the group. “Can she be cared for at home?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, and I highly recommend home care. Stroke patients respond much better when they are with loved ones. However, she should remain here for at least a week, as not all symptoms of stroke are immediately discernible. Also, you all should understand that she will require a full-time nurse for an indefinite period, which is not inexpensive. Medicare covers—”

“The cost will be taken care of,” Bram said curtly. He stood up and faced his family. “I want her brought to the ranch. Any objections?” A buzz of conversation swept through the group. “I know many of you want her, but I’m determined on this. You can drop in anytime to see her, and if you truly want to help, there’s housework, cooking, laundry and errands.” He turned back to the doctor. “So, I can take her home when?”

“In about a week.”

“Next Monday?”

“Probably. Shall I arrange for the nurse?”

“Yes, please do. Okay, Doctor, thanks. We’ll get out of your hair now.” Bram urged his relatives outside, where a few of them told him what they thought of his tactics.

“She’s my mother,” Uncle Thomas said indignantly.

“When she’s better you can take her,” Bram replied. “But I’m taking her first.”

The family began dispersing, going off to their cars, talking among themselves. Willow hung back and squeezed her brother’s hand.

“I’m glad she’ll be with you,” Willow said. “Everyone says they want her, but caring for an invalid is not easy. I know you’ll follow through.”

“That I will,” Bram said with that stern, determined look on his face that Willow knew very well. When Bram set his mind to something, it got done.

The rest of the week flew by because Bram was constantly busy, juggling caring for his horses and Nellie, getting the house cleaned and ready for Gran’s arrival, seeing to his job and squeezing in as many trips to the hospital as he could manage.

It was Friday before Bram realized that he hadn’t run into Jenna even once. As often as he’d been at the hospital that week, it was odd that he hadn’t stumbled across her at least one time. His nerves had settled down some and he began watching for her, thinking that he’d been so focused on Gran’s condition during those first awful days and nights that he might have walked right past Jenna and not seen her.

But even on the alert now he didn’t see her. Of course, she might have weekends off, he told himself.

Monday morning finally dawned, and Bram jumped out of bed, anxious for the day to begin. His beloved Gran was coming today, and he was thrilled to have her, ill or not.

When Jenna awoke to her alarm clock Monday morning, she stretched and yawned. She’d spent a marvelous week in Dallas with Loni, but her vacation was over and it was time she got back to her own reality. Smiling slightly, she got out of bed and headed for the shower.

Three hours later, on duty at the hospital, she heard two doctors checking a patient’s chart and discussing it at the nurse’s station. Obviously the patient was one of Dr. Hall’s. “Mrs. Colton will be taken by ambulance to Bram’s home. Now all I have to do is decide which nurse to send with her. There aren’t many nurses that can move in with a patient and give her their undivided attention. Most have family of their own, and—”

“Excuse me,” Jenna said. “Dr. Hall, may I speak to you for a moment?”

Bram went to work Monday morning but was back at the ranch again at noon. Nellie greeted him and followed wherever he went. The ambulance was scheduled to arrive around one, and Bram was nervous as a cat waiting for it. He walked through the house again to make sure everything was ready. Unquestionably, his home was cleaner than it had ever been, and the master bedroom, which Bram had assigned to Gran because of its private bathroom, had been scrubbed down with disinfectant.

Bram had taken the bed completely apart, scrubbed the frame and thoroughly vacuumed the springs and mattress before putting it all back together again. He had purchased a supply of white bed linens, including a soft white blanket and bedspread. It had been an expensive purchase, as he’d bought the best he could find in Black Arrow and had discovered that the “best” in sheets and pillowcases didn’t come cheap.

He peered into the bathroom, which contained new, freshly laundered white towels and washcloths. The fixtures gleamed from the scrubbing and polishing they had received.

The kitchen contained foods recommended by the hospital dietitian, who had given him lists of proper and improper foods for a stroke victim, along with a small book of recipes and hints on how to make a salt-free, fat-free, sugar-free meal appear tempting enough to actually eat.

Everything was as ready as he could make it, Bram finally decided, and went outside. With Nellie on his heels, he walked down to the wooden fence surrounding one of the pastures, put a booted foot on the bottom rail and leaned his forearms on the top. He had built this particular fence himself. It was good and sturdy and he knew it would last for many years. But it was about due for another coat of sealer, he decided, mentally putting that on his list of chores to do when time allowed.

Narrowing his eyes, he watched the horses nibbling grass on the far side of the field. Sometimes he thought of resigning from his job, going into debt for a bigger spread and doing nothing but breeding and raising horses. But he wasn’t a man who took debt lightly, and he was doing just fine with the status quo. He made a decent salary as sheriff, and his siblings asked for no rent for his use of the family ranch, as they were grateful to have their parents’ home and their heritage being kept in such good condition. Along with that, Bram had always been a practical man as far as saving for a rainy day went.

For some reason his thoughts went from there to Carl Elliot, who had to be worth millions, if not more. There were folks in the county with enormous fortunes, of course, some of them oil families from way back. But no other millionaire that Bram knew of had Carl’s less-than-sterling reputation. Bram would admire Carl’s ability to amass wealth if there weren’t so many rumors about his methods. Crafty was the kindest word used by some in describing Carl’s way of doing business, and some called him corrupt and worse.

Bram was still watching his horses, still musing about Carl Elliot, when he heard an approaching vehicle. Turning away from the fence, he saw the ambulance nearing his driveway. Bram’s heart skipped a beat. He was going to make Gran well, so help him God. He was going to spend every spare minute bringing her back to her former active, energetic self. He would see to exercising her legs and arms and eventually getting her out of that bed, and he would help her with the speech and facial therapies explained to him at the hospital, so she could speak with clarity.

The ambulance pulled up next to the house and Bram began striding toward it. Two paramedics got out of the front of the red-and-white vehicle and called hellos to Bram. He said hello as he walked up to them, and all three walked around to the back of the ambulance.

“So, how is she doing?” Bram asked.

“Just fine,” one of the young men said reassuringly.

Bram stood by while the medics opened the back doors. And then the bottom fell out of his stomach. Getting out of the ambulance was Jenna Elliot. She was wearing white slacks and a white top, her glorious hair was pulled back from her face and restrained with a clip at her nape, and she smiled at Bram as though they had always been the very best of friends.

“Hello, Bram,” she said.

He was too stunned to answer, to move or even to look as though he had a brain somewhere in his stiff and be-numbed body.

Jenna became intent on assisting the paramedics in moving Gloria from the ambulance as gently as possible. She held the IV bottle and kept the tubing from getting twisted or in the way while the two young men did their job. When everything was ready to take Gran into the house, one of the paramedics said, “Lead the way, Bram.”

“Uh…uh, sure,” he stammered, and somehow managed to get his feet walking and heading for the house. This was unfathomable. Jenna was Gran’s nurse? My God, Jenna was going to be staying in his house? Sleeping under his roof? In plain sight everywhere he turned? Hovering over Gran whenever he went into her room?

Bram led the way to the master bedroom, which had been his room before this tragic event.

“I gave her this room because of the bathroom,” he mumbled, wishing to hell his tongue would cooperate.

Jenna walked in and looked around. The whole house—or what she’d seen of it on her way in—was spotless and bore the unmistakable odor of disinfectant. Someone had done a thorough cleaning job, or was this almost sterile condition the norm for Bram’s home? She would never have thought so, but since she really didn’t know him in spite of her long-standing friendship with his sister, she could only guess at his housekeeping skills.

The paramedics were about to transfer Gloria from the gurney to the bed when Jenna said, “Wait a minute, please. Where will I be sleeping?”

Bram nervously shifted his weight from one foot to another. “The guest bedrooms are on the other side of the house.” Lord above, she’d be sleeping in the room next to his!

“Let me take a look.” Jenna handed the IV bottle to one of the paramedics and left the room. “Bram? How about giving me a quick tour?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, again having trouble with the simplest words. He walked past her, got a whiff of her clean, mildly floral smell and felt his face grow hot. Clenching his teeth, he led her through the house to the other two bedrooms.

Jenna took a quick peek into each and declared, “I’m sorry, but this won’t do. I need to be much closer to your grandmother at night. How about moving one of those twin beds into her room for me? I’ll keep my things in here and use the other twin when I think she’s doing well enough for me to sleep away from her.”

“Great,” Bram muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing. Tell the guys to put her to bed. I’ll move the twin.”

“And I’ll bring in my suitcase.”

“Uh, I’ll get it for you.”

Jenna smiled sweetly. He was unbelievably rude, but she wasn’t going to let him beat her up over nothing. After all, he didn’t know that he had the starring role in the sexual fantasies that occasionally passed through her brain.

“Thank you.” She left him standing there and returned to the master bedroom. “Put her to bed,” she told the two young men. Seeing that Gloria’s eyes had opened, she took her hand and smiled. “Do you know where you are, Gloria? You’re at the ranch, at Bram’s house. We’re going to move you to what looks to be a very comfortable bed now. Are you all right with that?”

“Ho…ho…home,” Gloria whispered hoarsely.

“Yes, Bram’s home.”

“N-n-no! Ho…home.”

Jenna sighed internally. It was always the same with patients released from the hospital. They always wanted their own home.

The men easily and expertly moved Gloria to the bed, and then made sure her IV was working and she was as comfortable as they could make her. They left then and Jenna was alone with her patient.

On the other side of the house, Bram had taken one of the twin beds apart. Tossing the bedding on the other twin, he shoved the mattress and then the box spring onto the floor and picked up the bed frame. He wore a scowl because this whole setup was almost more than he could handle, and he hated feeling helpless about anything. How dare Jenna come barging into his life like this?

Carrying the bed frame into the master suite, Bram set it down long enough to move a dresser over a few feet to make room for the twin.

“May I help?” Jenna asked.

“No, thanks,” Bram said curtly.

“Fine, do it all yourself,” she retorted.

Bram’s head jerked around so he could look at her. She looked back, and it was a stare-down that shook Bram’s very foundation. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t like her being there, and to ask her how in hell she expected him to sleep at night with her only a few feet and a thin wall away. But he couldn’t reveal the secret passion he’d harbored for her for so long, and what rational excuse did he have for not wanting her to be Gran’s nurse?

“I’ll get the spring and mattress,” he muttered darkly, finally breaking that unnerving eye contact and leaving the room.

Jenna took in a huge gulp of air and realized that she’d been holding her breath. Not only that, but her entire system was in chaos, all tingly and reminding her in the most erotic ways of her femininity, caused solely from looking directly into Bram Colton’s incredible black eyes.

Shivering from so much sexual energy charging through her body, she busied herself unpacking a bag containing a supply of hospital gowns and the medications for Gloria.

Bram hauled in the box spring and left again without a word or a glance. In a minute he was back with the mattress. Immediately he walked out again.

Jenna was surprised by the animosity she felt from Bram. He’d never been friendly, that was certain, but his attitude today bordered on actual dislike. Had she inadvertently trod on his toes at some time? She couldn’t think of an incident where they were ever together long enough for either of them to injure the other’s feelings. And heaven knew that she’d been open to a better relationship between them. At least she had tried smiling at him. If he ever deigned to show her a genuine smile, she’d probably faint dead away.

Bram returned once more with an armload of bedding. “It’s clean,” he said gruffly.

“Did you think I would accuse you of giving me soiled bedding?”

He couldn’t believe her icy tone of voice and insulting question. “No,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “I merely pointed out that this is clean bedding.”

“Anyway, we’re disturbing my patient.”

“Who just happens to be my grandmother,” Bram snapped, but in a husky whisper. He walked over to the bed Gran was occupying and looked down at her. She seemed small as a child in his big bed, and he’d never seen her as a tiny woman before the stroke. That shook him, for it was visible evidence of the changes in her.

He said brusquely, “Do you want me to make up the twin for you?”

“I’ll do it. I know there are going to be a lot of family members dropping in, which is as it should be. But I must insist on one rule.”

Bram’s eyes got even darker. “You brought your own set of rules to my house?”

“One for now. And don’t act so put-upon. It won’t kill you or anyone else to follow it. When that door is shut, no one is to come in. I will close it only during baths or other episodes of personal care. Now, is that really asking too much?”

Bram was embarrassed but would die before showing it. “I can live with that.”

“Well, thank you very much.” Disgustedly, Jenna turned away.

Bram wanted to pull a chair over to the bed and sit with Gran for a while, but with Jenna hovering and puttering—making up the twin bed, for one thing—and his every cell attuned to her every movement, he abandoned that idea.

“I’m going to work,” he growled as he walked out. “Call me if you need anything. You’ll find the phone numbers where I can be reached listed on a pad under the wall phone in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” Jenna said stiffly. She couldn’t help feeling glad that he’d decided to leave, for he wasn’t being one bit nice, and a grouchy distraction—even the sexiest guy she’d ever seen—she didn’t need. She probably shouldn’t have acted so impulsively when she’d heard Dr. Hall saying that he needed a nurse to care for Gloria Colton in Bram’s home. What on earth had Jenna hoped would come from her actually living in his house?

Sighing when she heard Bram’s vehicle start up and drive off, she finished making the bed, checked Gloria’s pulse rate, temperature and blood pressure without waking her, and wrote the data and the time on the new chart started in the ambulance.

Gloria’s eyes were closed and she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Jenna took that opportunity to check out the kitchen and the food it contained. She would be preparing Gloria’s meals, and her own, of course. But she was not going to cook for Bram. He could eat at the greasy spoon café, for all she cared.

Two hours later Willow walked into the house carrying a covered pot of something that smelled good. The young woman had black hair like her brother, but her eyes were gray and she was tall and slender and quite lovely.

“Jenna!” Willow exclaimed, obviously taken aback. “No one told me you were Gran’s nurse.”

“No one knew until this morning. What’s in the pot?”

“Some homemade chicken broth for Gran.”

“You used very little salt, I hope.”

“Very little. Just a tiny pinch.”

“Wonderful. Take it to the kitchen and then come say hi to your grandmother.”

Willow 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.