Читать книгу His Medicine Woman - Stella Bagwell - Страница 9

“Bridget? Are you in there?”

The sound of her sister’s voice broke through the fog of Bridget’s sleep and she opened her eyes to see early morning sunlight streaming through her office window.

Slowly she sat up and swung her legs to the floor. “Yes—come in,” she called groggily.

As she attempted to push a tangled web of hair away from her face, Maura strode in carrying a foam cup filled with steaming coffee. Her older sister was dressed in a pair of bright colored scrubs, while the happy smile on her face said the night of partying had hardly affected her energy level.

Bridget was often amazed at how her sister always remained so young and beautiful and bubbly. She and her husband Quint had two little boys, Riley and Clancy, and both were under the age of three. When she wasn’t working here at the clinic as Bridget’s supervising R.N., she was taking care of her husband’s and children’s needs, along with keeping a close eye on her grandfather-in-law, Abe. But Maura was in love, Bridget thought wistfully. And she had a husband who loved her back. Maybe that made all the difference.

“Oh, my, you do look awful,” Maura exclaimed as she came to a stop in the middle of the room. “You’d better get some of this coffee down. Your first patient will be arriving in about an hour.”

Groaning, Bridget scrubbed her face with both hands. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time for the coffee. Is Janna here yet?”

“She just came in, why?”

“Because my morning appointments are going to have to be rescheduled. Tell her I’ll try to work in the most serious cases this afternoon, the rest will have to be scattered through the remainder of the week.”

“Oh. What’s up?”

Rising from the couch, Bridget took the cup from her sister and downed several fortifying sips before she answered, “An emergency. Johnny Chino’s grandmother is very ill. I need to leave in a few minutes to travel back to the reservation and treat her again.”

Maura frowned. “Is that where you raced off to last night? Brady told us you had an emergency, but he didn’t know where.”

Nodding, Bridget handed the cup back to Maura, then plucked her high heels from where she’d stepped out of them early this morning. Thankfully her private office was not only large enough to accommodate a couch for her to crash on during emergencies, it was also equipped with an ample-size shower and a closet with enough room for several changes of clothing. Ileana Sanders McCleod, the physician who’d originally built this clinic, had definitely understood what a doctor needed to keep herself on schedule.

“That’s right,” she said, answering Maura’s question.

“But why call you? I mean, there’s an Indian hospital right on the reservation.”

Bridget kept her face carefully averted from her sister. Although, she wasn’t sure why she needed to guard the emotional upheaval she’d gone through last night. Maura had no idea that she’d ever had any sort of connection to Johnny Chino. Nor did the rest of her family. Without that knowledge, there was no way Maura could read anything into her expressions.

“Naomi Chino is ninety-three and refuses to go to the hospital. She—asked for me to come and I—couldn’t refuse.”

“Hmm. I suppose you should feel honored that she wanted you treating her instead of a doctor from her own tribe. But frankly, it doesn’t make sense. Have you met her before?”

Bridget kept herself busy pulling bobby pins from her thick mane and allowing the curls that had managed to stay fastened to her head fall to her midback. “Years ago. I went to a few festivals on the reservation and we … talked during those occasions. But I figure Brady’s long friendship with Johnny is probably the reason she wanted me to doctor her.”

“Oh, yes. They’ve been like brothers since way back. Probably since kindergarten days.”

Bridget smiled to herself. Imagining Johnny as a five-year-old boy was an almost impossible task. To her he’d always been a tall, bronze warrior, a man who made her heart beat fast and dreams blossom. How shocked would Maura be if she told her that? Bridget wondered wryly. What would her sister think if she told her that she’d once loved, still loved the Apache? It was a question that often entered her mind, but had never been put into spoken words.

“So what’s wrong with Mrs. Chino?”

Forcing her thoughts to the present, Bridget moved behind her desk, and searched through a drawer for a hairbrush. “Flu. And I’m afraid she’s near pneumonia.” Finding the brush, she began to tug it through the tangled curls. “So how did the rest of the reception go? Conall and Vanessa seem so happy, don’t they?”

“They’re glowing like neon signs,” Maura agreed. “And everyone at the party seemed to have a great time. And the band was fabulous,” she added, then chuckled. “Who knew Conall liked doo-wop music! It was so much fun!”

“I’m glad I got to be there for part of it.” With a few quick flicks, Bridget coiled her hair into a knot and pinned it to the back of her head. “I’d better get out of this dress and head to the shower. Would you tell Janna what’s going on?”

“Sure.” Peering more closely at Bridget, Maura pushed her hip away from the desk. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Why?”

Shrugging, she said, “I’ve never seen you looking so exhausted. Maybe you should ask another doctor to go to the reservation in your place.”

“That’s out,” Bridget said flatly. “I’m handling this.”

With a palms-up gesture, Maura made a move to leave the room. “Okay. It was just a suggestion.” At the door, she paused to look back at Bridget. “What time do I tell Janna that you’ll be back here to the clinic?”

“If all goes as planned I should be back by lunchtime. I’ll call if that changes.”

Nodding that she understood, Maura said, “Be careful driving over the mountain. And don’t worry, I’ll help hold down the fort here.”

“Thanks, sis.”

Once Maura had slipped through the door, then shut it firmly behind her, Bridget jumped into action. Five minutes later, she was showered, dressed in a pair of neat gray slacks, black turtleneck and dress boots. After deciding to leave her hair loose, she grabbed a red woolen jacket and headed out a back exit of the clinic.

By now, the morning sun was beginning to filter through the golden autumn leaves of a nearby aspen. Maura’s truck, along with the receptionist’s car, was parked alongside her Jeep in the private parking area. Sharp north winds were swooping across the parking lot, forcing Bridget to pull on her jacket before she climbed in and started the engine. As she backed the vehicle onto the quiet street running adjacent to the rear of the building, she was glad that she’d filled the gas tank last night, rather than having to take extra time to do it this morning.

As for the medications Naomi needed, Bridget didn’t bother making a stop at the nearest pharmacy. She’d pulled the medicines from the private stock of drugs she kept on hand for use at the clinic. If Johnny happened to notice there were no pharmacy labels on the bottles, she’d explain they were samples and leave it at that. From past experiences, she knew that he and his grandparents were proud people and didn’t want or expect handouts of any kind.

Even though it was daylight and the road clearly visible, it took more than thirty-five minutes to drive to the Chino home. During the trip, Bridget tried to keep her mind on Naomi and the treatment she’d mentally mapped out for her. But even as Bridget pondered the old woman’s ailment, Johnny was right there, haunting, reminding her that so much had changed and yet so much was still the same. His strong, solemn face was the last thing she’d seen last night as she’d driven away from the Chino home and this morning when Maura had woken her, it had been Johnny’s image who’d instantly rushed to the forefront of her thoughts.

These past few years, she’d only heard snippets of information about him, mostly through her brother, Brady. And though she’d desperately longed to ask him more in-depth questions, she’d not done so. Johnny had never wanted anyone, especially Brady, to know about their short-lived affair and she’d always respected his wishes. But there had been many occasions she’d wanted to break down to one of her sisters, her mother, even her grandmother and pour out her feelings. Maybe they would think it a bit scandalous that she’d loved a man so different from them, but they would never condemn her for it. No, they were her family and they would console and support her in whatever way they could.

But discussing the situation with anyone wouldn’t help to change matters, she realized. And for the past five years, she’d tried to move on and hope that someday she would meet a man strong enough to drown out Johnny’s memory. So far that hadn’t happened. And she wasn’t really expecting it to. The weak flicker of a candle couldn’t take the place of an all-out blaze.

When she eventually parked in front of the Chino home, the dogs were the first to greet her, but this time their barks were only halfhearted and their tales were wagging.

Bridget didn’t wait for Johnny to step onto the porch; instead she snatched up her bag with the medicine and hurried toward the house. She was about to rap her knuckles on the facing of the screen door when the inner door creaked open and Charlie Chino stood staring out at her.

“Good morning, Mr. Chino.”

He pushed the screen wide and gestured for her to enter the house. Bridget stepped inside and waited while Johnny’s grandfather dealt with the door. As he did, she took note of his tall, straight posture, the long gray braid lying against the middle of his back. She was glad to see he was very agile and alert for someone his age. In fact, he hardly looked a day older than the last time she’d spoken with him.

“Naomi is awake,” he said. “She’s been asking for you.”

Doctors had rules. They weren’t supposed to get emotionally involved with their patients. But this was Naomi, the woman who’d mothered Johnny from the time he was an infant, and the fact that she was reaching out for Bridget caused her heart to wince. “I have more medicine to help her.”

Expecting the old man to immediately usher her back to the bedroom, she was surprised when he turned his quiet, wrinkled face toward hers.

“Naomi didn’t care if she got well. Until you came last night. I thank you.”

Bridget reached for Charlie’s big bony hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad I could help, Mr. Chino. Naomi has always been special to me. And so have you. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure she gets well.”

She didn’t bother adding that Johnny was equally special to her. The old man didn’t have to hear spoken words to see or understand things. She figured last night her feelings for his grandson had shown on her face and Charlie had read them clearly.

Charlie nodded and gestured toward the doorway leading to the back part of the house. As the two of them passed through the kitchen, Bridget was pleased to feel the house was somewhat warmer than it had been last night, which meant that Johnny was doing his best to follow the instructions she’d given him.

Glancing to her left, she noticed the table where she and Johnny had sat drinking their coffee was now cluttered with breakfast leftovers. Two plates smeared with congealed egg yolk sat among cups, jelly jars and other condiments. The sight reminded her that she’d not yet taken time for food. But apparently Johnny and his grandfather had already eaten.

She was wondering where he was and why he’d not met her at the door, when Charlie seemed to read her mind and answer her unspoken questions.

“Johnny went to Mescalero for things at the grocery store. He’ll be back soon.”

“I won’t be leaving before he gets back,” she assured the old man.

Inside Naomi’s bedroom, she quickly went to the woman’s side. After switching on the nearby lamp, she gathered her equipment together. As she wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Naomi’s arm, she was relieved to see the woman’s eyes appeared a bit more clear this morning.

“How are you feeling, Naomi?” Bridget asked.

Naomi gave her a faint nod and Bridget finished noting the blood pressure reading before she asked, “Do you hurt anywhere?”

Naomi laid a hand on her chest and then slid the same hand slowly to her stomach.

“Have you had anything to drink or eat since last night?” Bridget continued with her questions.

“Cider. And a little goat’s milk.”

Bridget smiled softly at the woman. “Well, that’s better than nothing. By this afternoon I want you to try to eat something, though. Will you try?”

Naomi let out a weary sigh. “I’ll try.”

Bridget took the woman’s temperature, then got down to the all-important job of listening to her lungs. She didn’t hear the huge improvement she would have liked, but Naomi would need much more medication before Bridget expected to see a turnaround for the better. For now, the woman’s condition hadn’t worsened overnight and for that much Bridget was very thankful.

Once she put away her stethoscope, she explained to Naomi that she’d brought a bag of medicine for her and that she needed to fix a needle in her hand for her to receive it. Expecting the woman to put up a fuss and probably refuse the IV medications, she was pleasantly surprised when Johnny’s grandmother agreed.

“My hide is tough, Bridget. But you can try,” she acceded.

Not wasting any time, Bridget quickly gathered the needed paraphernalia from her bag. Thankfully, near the head of the bed, there was a hook on the wall holding Naomi’s housecoat. After removing the garment, she used it to hang the bag of medications, then went to work affixing a small shunt to the woman’s hand.

“This might sting a little,” Bridget warned as she plucked Naomi’s hand from atop the cover. “I’ll try to be as easy as I can.”

Starting an IV was something Bridget hadn’t done since way back in her intern days. Now that she had her own private practice, she had nurses to do such tasks for her and she couldn’t help but wish her sister Maura was here to do this one.

But fortunately she didn’t have any trouble finding an appropriate vein or positioning the needle. However, as she smoothed the medical tape across the top of Naomi’s fragile hand, Bridget had plenty of problems with the unbidden thoughts rushing to the forefront of her mind.

This woman hadn’t always been old, or wrinkled or ill, Bridget thought. At one time her bony hand had been plump and smooth, her face and figure full of youth. At the age of forty-three she’d given birth to her and Charlie’s only child, a daughter named Scarlett. A miracle in itself, considering they’d already passed two decades of a childless marriage.

Five years ago, in spite of Johnny’s misgivings, Bridget had made a few visits to the Chino home. She and Naomi were very different people, but that hadn’t stopped them from taking an instant liking to each other. Naomi had talked with her about many things, one of them being Johnny’s mother. She’d told Bridget that while she’d been pregnant, she’d had a premonition and it had told her the girl child she was carrying would never truly be hers, but that someday she would receive another child and it would be a boy.

Strangely enough, Naomi’s intuition had come true. Scarlett had grown up beautiful, but too wild to tame. As she’d entered her teenage years she’d been reckless and defiant and from there her life had quickly gone downhill. By the time she was nineteen, she’d spent a short time in jail and eventually bore a son out of wedlock.

The responsibility of a child had been overwhelming to Scarlett and as quickly as she’d given birth, she’d handed the infant over to her parents and left the reservation and New Mexico behind. Four years later, they’d received word that she’d died in an alcohol-related car crash, making Naomi’s premonition come true. She’d lost a daughter, but a baby boy had come into her life.

“Bridget, is something wrong?”

Naomi’s weakly spoken question interrupted Bridget’s deep thoughts, and with a barely discernible sigh, she looked at the woman and smiled. “No. Everything is okay, Naomi. Why do you ask?”

“The sad look on your face. Maybe you don’t think I’ll get well.”

With a firm shake of her head, Bridget placed Naomi’s hand carefully back on the bedcover, then patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry I looked sad. I was just—thinking. About all the things I have to do today. That’s all. I promise you’re going to get well.” She stabbed the old woman with a pointed look. “You do want to get well, don’t you?”

Naomi grimaced. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Bridget studied her closely. “I don’t know. Some people get lazy when they get older. They get too lazy to fight for anything. I don’t want you to fall into that category.”

The old woman tried to snort, but only managed to make herself cough. When she eventually regained her breath, she said, “I’ve fought for some things. And I won’t stop now.”

“Good,” Bridget replied. “See that you don’t.”

After regulating the IV drip, Bridget gave Naomi several oral medications, then urged her patient to go to sleep.

Once the woman had closed her eyes, Bridget moved a few steps away from the bed to where Charlie sat in the same straight-back chair with a twine woven seat. The man looked tired and uncomfortable, but Bridget chose not to tell him so. He didn’t need a woman, not even a third of his age, telling him what to do and when to do it.

“Your wife should sleep now, Mr. Chino. And let’s pray the medicines will do the trick.”

“I pray all the time,” he said.

Bridget didn’t doubt his simply stated fact. The Chinos had always been spiritual people, including Johnny. At least, that’s the way it had been five years ago. Whether he’d held on to his faith, she didn’t know. Through snippets of information from Brady, she knew that Johnny’d more or less turned into a recluse and had turned his back on a job that had, at one time, garnered him fame and the reputation of being one of the best trackers in the West.

She was glancing toward the slow dripping IV, trying to mentally calculate when it might be finished, when she heard stirrings in the front part of the house. The sound of Johnny’s arrival set her heart to pounding and after only a split second of indecision, she decided to go meet him.

By the time she reached the kitchen, he was there easing a paper sack full of groceries onto the countertop. The moment he caught the sound of her footsteps, his head turned in her direction and for a moment they simply stared at each other. Or that’s what it felt like to Bridget. Maybe she was the one doing all the staring as she took in his black, black hair, broad shoulders and long lean legs encased in worn denim.

“Good morning,” she greeted him.

“Good morning,” he replied.

Forcing herself to breathe, she moved over to where he was standing and watched as he pulled out a jug of orange juice, several sports drinks, cans of condensed soup and a loaf of bread.

“You should have told me you needed those things,” she said. “I could have brought them with me this morning.”

“It isn’t your place to bring food.”

She was an outsider and he wasn’t about to let her into his world. After all this time, the notion shouldn’t hurt her. But it did.

“God forbid that you should accept anything from me,” she muttered with exasperation.

He slanted a sharp glance at her and she let out a weary sigh. “Sorry. I’ve not had breakfast this morning. I’m feeling a bit testy.”

“How is Grandmother?” he asked abruptly.

“Since her condition hasn’t worsened, I’ll say she’s holding her own. Which is a good thing, considering. I’ve started her IV drip and given her a few other medications. The drip should take a couple of hours. I’ll stay until it’s completed.”

His jaw tightened slightly and she knew he wasn’t happy about her being here, especially for such a lengthy period of time. But he also seemed to realize there was nothing either of them could do about it.

Turning his attention back to the groceries, he said, “Sit at the table and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

She didn’t want him to cook for her. She didn’t want him to do anything for her. No! That wasn’t true. She wanted him to do everything for her. Especially take her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her, wanted her, needed her. But since that was never going to happen, she might as well settle for a simple breakfast.

“All right.”

While he was putting away the groceries and gathering the things for her meal, Bridget tried to relax and rest. God only knew how exhausted she was, but being in Johnny’s presence made unwinding her coiled nerves impossible. In spite of her orders to look at the walls, the floor, the cabinets, her gaze insisted on fixing itself to him. With his back to her, it made it doubly easy for her to stare and measure the faint changes she could see against the vivid memories she’d carried with her for all these years.

Time had only made him more of a man, she recognized. Hard muscle now bulked his shoulders, arms and legs, while his bronze features were honed to lean, tough perfection. She didn’t think Johnny had ever been aware of just how potent his looks were to women. And even if he had known it, he’d never been the type who’d use those looks for his advantage. There was nothing pretentious or frivolous about the man and she supposed that quiet deepness about him was the very thing that had drawn her to him. And had never let her go.

Before long, the coffee began to perk and the rich aroma blended with the scents of frying chorizo. Bridget’s stomach was growling with hunger and though she wanted to cross the room and help herself to a cup and the granite coffeepot, she waited patiently for him to serve her. To do anything else would offend him. And that was something she’d never wanted to do to Johnny Chino.

Eventually, he switched off the burner beneath the iron skillet and filled a plate with the food he’d prepared. Once he carried it and a cup of coffee over to the table and placed it on the table in front of her, he said, “It isn’t much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“It’s more than enough,” she assured him. “Thank you.”

While he went after a cup of coffee for himself, Bridget dug into chorizo and scrambled eggs wrapped in tortillas.

“I should have picked up something for breakfast before I left town,” she commented between bites, “but I didn’t want to waste the time.”

The coffee was scalding hot and very strong, forcing her to take one careful sip at a time. The jolt of it helped to push away her fatigue.

He took a seat across from her, yet he didn’t turn his gaze in her direction. Instead, he focused on the nearby window. In some ways it was a relief not to have him staring at her with those all-consuming brown eyes of his. Yet a part of her missed the connection, missed the words his eyes spoke that his lips would not.

“What about your clinic?” he questioned. “Do you normally see patients at this time in the morning?”

Bridget glanced at the watch on her wrist. “Usually. But there are days when I have emergencies to tend to at the hospital or urgent house calls to make. My staff knows how to handle things. The patients I miss this morning, I’ll work in later in the week. Except for the ones with more serious issues, and those I’ll remain at the clinic late this evening to see.”

As she sipped her coffee, she could see a faint grimace pull at the corners of his mouth. Clearly he didn’t like the idea that he and his family were causing such an upheaval in her schedule. Or maybe he didn’t like the idea that she was still willing to do so much for him.

“Will you need to see Grandmother tonight?” he asked.

“That depends on you.”

That brought his head around and he stared at her with misgivings. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to call you later on this evening and have you report on how she appears. You will tell me the truth, won’t you?”

His features tightened. “I have always told you the truth. Why would that change?”

Her eyes still clinging to his face, she lowered her cup to the tabletop. “Because I think you’d do most anything to keep me away from here—from you.”