Good Medicine (22 page)

“Of course you do.” He understood about family. “Christina told me about Toby. She said you wanted me to try to heal him. If he asks me, I'll do my best.”

“Thank you, Silas.” She put her arms around him, hugging him close. The desperation she felt about Toby eased just a little as his strong hands on her waist pulled her tight.

“But you have to understand that my type of healing doesn't necessarily mean a cure, Jordan.”

She took a step back and scowled up at him. “For heaven's sake, I'm a doctor. Of course I know there aren't any guarantees. All we can do is hope.” And fight. She'd fight for her brother's life with everything she had.

“Native healing goes further than hope. Sometimes, if the person's spirit has decided to leave, healing means helping the transition to the spirit world. You'd have to set him free, Jordan, so he could follow the path his spirit has chosen. You'd have to trust, not just him, but me.”

He was asking her to let go of the outcome. How could she do a thing like that? She stared up at him, and in those clear, green eyes she saw her own reflection.

In an instant, it came to her that she was asking Silas to do the same.

She wanted him to love her, without boundaries, without timetables, without promises. She was asking him for unconditional love. Frightening as it was, she had to offer him the same in return.

She swallowed hard. Her hands were trembling. “I'll try, Silas. I promise you I'll do my very best.”

“Good,” he said. “I have this feeling that we'll make good medicine together.”

And then he kissed her.

N
INE MONTHS HAD PASSED
since that afternoon in Pacific Spirit Park.

Jordan smiled down at the baby girl cuddled close to her heart. Long, poker-straight tufts of coal-black hair stood defiantly on end, framing a small, indignant face. Hands the size of tiny acorns nestled under the baby's double chin, and her perfectly shaped bow lips made petulant sucking motions in preparation for the next meal, never more than an hour away.

“Welcome, baby girl,” Jordan whispered softly—
really
softly. She'd rather not wake little Onida Rose Crow. Her niece was eight weeks old today, and Onida knew what she wanted and when she wanted it. She was a tyrant with the appetite of a glutton and a voice about five times larger than her diminutive body.

On this sunny May morning, Onida Rose was being welcomed by a circle of her family and friends. Her mother and father sat together on the other side of the ring of chairs. Patwin was holding Mary's hand, and the exhausted and slightly befuddled expression on his handsome face made Jordan want to laugh out loud.

Your daddy can't figure out what's hit him,
she thought, looking back at Onida.

Patwin had been there when Onida made her dramatic entrance into the world. Mary's had been one of the shortest labors Jordan had ever attended. Fortunately, the family had been in the middle of dinner with Rose Marie and Peter at the time. Unfortunately, there hadn't been time to get Mary to a bedroom, much less the medical center.

Jordan and Christina had delivered Onida on Rose Marie's living room carpet, which would never be the same again. Patwin had fainted during the proceedings not once, but twice.

Christina had snapped photos of him out cold, lying on the carpet a few feet away from his newborn daughter. She'd pasted the pictures into the baby book she was putting together for her niece, and she was threatening to blow them up and post them on the bulletin board at the clinic.

In spite of her teasing, Jordan knew how proud Christina was of her baby brother. The entire family was proud of him.

Patwin had found work he was passionate about and was doing his best to support Mary and his baby. He'd volunteered as a coach for the boy's basketball team, and been so good at it he was hired as head coach. As well, he'd begun talking to the kids at the youth center about the dangers of drugs, and was now being asked to come to other communities as a spokesperson for the anti-drug campaigns in schools.

Jordan held the baby to her heart and rocked gently back and forth.

“Ahhhhh nook, ahhhhhh nook.”
She made the deep humming sound of welcome Silas and Christina had taught her. She took her time, as did everyone in the circle. When she sensed her blessing was complete, she gingerly passed Onida to Silas, sitting to her right. He said a prayer, everyone sang a song, and the blessing ended, thankfully before Onida woke up. Silas handed her off to her mother.

The circle broke up and everyone headed outside. Silas walked beside Jordan, his fingers interlaced with hers. His thumb traced the pattern on the wide wedding band he'd had made for her when they were married on her birthday in April. It was etched with the native symbol for eternity.

“The boat will be here any minute,” he said.

Jordan nodded. “Let's walk down to the dock and see how Toby and Wanda liked being media mavens.”

After spending a lot of time with the Ahousaht elders, Toby had become fascinated with their stories of building wooden boats in the traditional way, without chemicals or power tools. Toby drew up plans, and just before Christmas he and Patwin had started work under a makeshift tent, with an ever-growing number of grandfathers supervising. The project soon became everyone's baby, and most of the village ignored the rain to watch the boat take shape.

Michael's mother, Wanda Nitsch, had always dreamed of being a filmmaker. She used the video cam
era her husband gave her for Christmas to document the building of the boat. She'd then incorporated audiotapes of the grandmothers reading Sandrine's stories with the visual images of the boatbuilding and sent the completed documentary off to a contest in Vancouver.

Wanda won first prize—which meant the film was being aired on several major networks, and she and Toby were being overwhelmed with interview requests.

“Looks like half the village had the same idea,” Jordan said as they neared the dock. Christina was already there, and she waved to them.

“Eli told me Toby was buying Christina an engagement ring in Vancouver,” Silas said.

“How the heck did Eli know that? Toby hasn't even asked Christina yet.”

She still occasionally forgot that there were no secrets in Ahousaht. Well, maybe just one. But it wasn't something that could be hidden very long. All the same, she and Silas were enjoying it while it lasted.

“Oh, Eli said it was easy. He saw Toby sizing one of the rings from Christina's jewel box.”

“That kid is diabolical.” And Eli was also beside himself with joy because Toby was going to be his dad and teach him how to build boats and take him sailing and buy him a new bike. Jordan knew the litany by heart, as did the rest of Ahousaht.

“There's the taxi now.”

Charlie steered the boat in with more of a flourish than usual. Wanda was the first to scramble to the dock. She lifted Michael into her arms, and her fam
ily and friends cheered as she did a little victory dance for them.

Toby was next, and he also got a round of applause and some shrill congratulatory whistles as he stepped down to the dock. Christina gave him a great smacking kiss. The two of them, arm in arm, came walking over to where Jordan and Silas were standing.

Jordan tried not to assess her brother's health, but it was a hard habit to break. She noticed that his limp was still there, but it was slight. He'd gained weight these past few months, the skeletal look was going, and working outdoors had turned his face and arms almost the same copper color as Christina's.

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Keefer, it's good to be home again.” Toby gave Jordan a quick, hard hug and tapped an affectionate fist against Silas's shoulder.

A special bond existed between her husband and her brother, the camaraderie of two warriors who'd gone into battle side by side and come out victorious. Jordan didn't know all the details of the healing process Silas and Toby had agreed on together. She did know that her brother's blood tests showed an ever-decreasing amount of neurotoxins, and that each passing month he looked healthier, more vibrant and more like his old self. It was a miracle, and Jordan didn't question it. She'd come to believe, as her husband often said, that healing was a mystery and a grace. She was profoundly, humbly grateful that both had touched her brother.

“I bought some fancy wine in Vancouver,” Toby said. “Let's go to my place and see if Christina can guess
where it's from.” He led the way to the apartment at the back of the medical center. He'd taken it over the previous autumn when Jordan had moved into the cabin with Silas.

“I even bought some wineglasses,” he went on when they were all seated around the old wooden table. He uncorked the wine, hiding the label and poured a small amount for Christina. She rolled it around in her mouth.

“That's easy,” she said. “It's Domaine Chandon, high-end champagne, but they're not allowed to call it that, because it's not grown in the Champagne area of France.”

Everyone cheered and clapped. Toby handed glasses around and poured.

“None for me,” Jordan said when her turn came. The others looked at her, and she started to giggle as she watched Christina put two and two together.

“They're having a baby!” Christina squealed to a perplexed Toby. She got up and jumped up and down, squealing, “They're having a baby, they're having a baby!”

“This calls for a toast,” Toby declared. He held his glass high.

“To the future,” he said. “Good health and happiness.”

“To babies,” Christina said. “And to Jordan, who had the good sense to marry my brother.”

Silas had his arm around Jordan's shoulders. He sipped his wine and turned to her, and her breath caught as she looked into his eyes. Their beautiful clear green depths shimmered with unshed tears.

“To my wife,” he said softly. “To our children, our grandchildren and the unborn generations ahead. May each of them find the other half of themselves.” And he chanted the only native words Jordan understood.

“Hiy! Hiy! Hiy.”

With deep gratitude.