Healing Trace (8 page)

"Sure."
He took a drink of his coffee. "Although, if you ever need to go into
town, Devon or Brody could take you or you could borrow my truck."

"I
wouldn't want to do that. You know what happened to the last car I drove."
She rolled her eyes.

"Still…it
would be no problem." He grabbed one of the muffins off the plate and held
one out for Joan.

She
peeled the paper off, and picked off one of the blueberries. "Can I ask
you something?"

"No
reason to ask, you'll do it anyway." His lips twitched.

"I
understand why your dreams led you away from the reservation, but each of you
have jobs or relatives you're still connected to there. Brody even said your
property backs Lakota land. I'm curious about why you all didn't go back after
you became successful. You could have built this house anywhere, right? Or, is
it not allowed?" She brushed off her hands.

"There
are reasons why I won't live on the reservation." He popped the last bite
into his mouth.

She
raised her brows and waited. "You're doing it again."

"What?"
He stood up and dragged his crutches under his arms.

"Closing
yourself off." She sighed and looked away. "Not that you have to
answer, so if I brought up something you don't want to talk about, it'd be
easier just to tell me it's none of my business."

Letting
the subject drop, she wiped off the counter. Trace sat back down and was
studying her. She ignored him.

"Don't
get me wrong, I respect our beliefs, our way of life for my people."
Trace's voice was low, and he stared down at the counter. "I want to see
our people prosper and better their lives, but I don't want to live there on a
daily basis. I can't."

She
laid her hand on his. "Trace. It's okay. You don't have to say more. I
shouldn't have asked. I'm nosy, if you haven't noticed."

He
nodded and stood. "I'll go work."

"I'll
check on you in a couple of hours and we can do your toe exercises." She
leaned her hip against the cupboard.

He
never answered her, but kept crutching out of the room. She turned and gazed
out the window to the pool in the distance. What would cause Trace to feel
uncomfortable in the place he called home?

Everything
about him showed how proud he was of his heritage. He kept the stories, the
pride continuing in his life even though he'd separated himself. She shook her
head. It really wasn't any of her business.

If
she was going to make a career out of being a nurse, she needed to learn how to
distance herself from her patients' private lives. She drained the rest of her
coffee in the sink, placed the mug in the dishwasher, and headed to her room.

Chapter Eight

Joan
stood in front of the counter at the front office of the private clinic where
Trace had his doctor's appointment. "Excuse me, could you tell me where I
can find the list for the job openings that are available?"

"Of
course." The woman stood and pointed to her left. "Go out this door,
turn right, and take the first elevators down to the basement floor. Once the
doors open, follow the hallway down to the cafeteria. You should see a green
bulletin board on the right side before the double doors. You'll find
everything you need there. If not, come back and I can find someone to help
you."

"Thank
you very much." She stepped over to Brody's side. "I'll be right
back. If Trace comes out early, go ahead and take him to the truck and I'll
meet you there. I don't want to make him sit in here waiting for me."

He
gave her hand a squeeze. "Good luck."

She
followed the woman's directions and found her way to the basement. Running her finger
down the list, she sagged in disappointment. Even the jobs she was over
qualified for were now filled and unavailable.
Figures.

Every
nurse wanted to work in a private practice. The hours were shorter and the
benefits bigger than those offered at the two county hospitals in the area. It
was a long shot to think she could attain a job here. In the health care
business, she expected to start at the bottom and work her way up the ladder
like everyone else and that meant going to the county hospitals and nursing
homes.

Deciding
to take the stairs back up to the office, she used the extra time to convince
herself not to let her disappointment ruin her day. She still had time to
acquire full time employment. Her job taking care of Trace wasn't over yet.

She
opened the door to the third floor, cut across the plush carpeted hallway to
suite 305, and found Brody pushing Trace across the waiting room in a
wheelchair. She hurried forward, glancing from Trace to Brody. Her patient did
not look like he received good news from the doctor.

"Everything's
fine. They removed his cast, took his stitches out, and said his fracture was
healing better than expected considering it's the second time he's broken that
leg." Brody pushed Trace toward the elevator. "They also put on a new
cast. The doctor said to tell you to keep following the schedule for his care."

"That's
great news. The new cast will make his leg feel more secure, since we've got
the swelling down and the old one was too loose." She fell into step
behind the wheelchair and whispered to Brody, "Why's he mad?"

"He
hates going to the doctor." Brody didn't bother lowering his voice.

"Shut
the hell up, Brody." Trace held up his hand. "Give me the damn
crutches, so I can get out of this chair."

Brody
ignored him. "Wait until we get down to the front door. I don't want the
nurse who brought you out to the waiting room to come after me. She looked
scary."

They
rode the elevator in silence. Once outside, Joan handed Trace his crutches and
walked behind him to the truck in case he lost his balance in the parking lot.
She shouldn't have worried though, because he'd stormed out of there and seated
himself in the truck in no time.

Brody
started the engine and pulled out onto the road. "Any luck finding a
job?"

"No.
I kind of figured there wouldn't be any openings. The Bally Clinic is a popular
place, most of the people in my classes at college wanted to get hired on
there." She dug in her purse, found the bottle of pain medication for
Trace, and handed them over. "Here, you should take one. I've got a water
bottle you can use."

Trace
shook his head. "I'm fine."

"It'll
make you feel better. In another hour, your leg could swell from being out of
the cast while you had x-rays. No matter how much the nurses try not to move
your leg, your muscles tighten up. You don't want to suffer later." She
waited, but ended up putting everything back in her purse. "What scares
you at the doctors? The needles? I had to get over that fear myself when I
started school. It only took hours of jabbing myself and the other nurses for
practice to forget about the slight pain that comes with the poke."

"Really?"
Brody curled his lip and shivered. "Ugh. I thought you used cadavers or one
of those fake dummies to learn on."

"Nope.
We practiced on each other and the patients who walked into the free clinic at
the hospital. That's what having no insurance gets you…you become pin cushions for
people like me." She turned to Trace. "First time I poked someone
with a needle, I passed out. No lie.

"I
just don't like having people ask me questions and not minding their own
business." Trace shifted in the seat. "Needles don't bother me."

The
rest of the way home, they rode in semi-comfortable silence. Brody dropped her
and Trace off at the front door of the ranch, and then she helped Trace lay
down on the couch. She could tell he was in pain, but put on a brave front.

With
a late lunch, she gave him two ibuprofen with his meal. She fingered the mark
of an X over her heart. "I promise, it's not a pain pill, but it will help
with any swelling."

He
popped them in his mouth and washed them down with water. She returned to the
kitchen to eat her own lunch. Standing in front of the window, she stared
outside. There was a pool in the backyard, horses to ride, wide-open spaces in
every direction she turned, and more cows than she'd ever seen in her life. It
was more than most people owned, and she imagined none of the guys were ever
without something to keep them occupied.

Even
though she wasn't involved with all the activities around the ranch, she knew
her stay would never become boring. For some reason, whenever she was near
Trace her mind kept her busy.

The
relationship between the men of the house fascinated her. She enjoyed talking
to each one of them, but Trace took up most of her thinking time. He was
mysterious and quiet, when he wasn't snapping at her and telling her to leave
him alone.

Trace
touched a place deep within her with his brooding manners. The sadness in his
eyes and the way he struggled through the pain had her wanting to make
everything better for him. She still had a lot to learn about patient care. Mainly,
how not to become emotionally attached to her patient.

Her
professors warned her about the possibility of overstepping her boundaries in
school, and she needed to remember her place. Yet, there was something
enthralling about Trace and she seemed unable to get him out of her head.

Fueled
by the additional caffeine she'd drank before going back into the living room,
Joan sat down in the chair across from the couch and picked up the magazine
she'd yet to read fully. Trace snored lightly, and she relaxed. It was nice to
see a little imperfection in a man who always seemed in control.

She
turned her attention to the article she had begun reading yesterday about a
rancher in Montana who'd converted his operation from commercial feed to
organic. Before coming to Lakota ranch, she would've never picked up a farming
magazine, much less read the stories from front to back. Knowing the guys ran
their cattle on organic grass made her want to learn more.
Oh Katie, if you
could see me now, you'd laugh.

Katie
had always been the outgoing one of them. Joan had spent her childhood quietly
playing with dolls in her room, while the neighbor lady babysat. But, not
Katie. She lived life at a run.

She
barely remembered a time before Katie was born, even though she'd been eight
years old when her mom died, leaving her and Dad responsible for taking care of
a baby. Her chest tightened. Now it was just her to look after her sister, and
she was failing.

Trace
groaned and opened his eyes. "Did I fall asleep?"

"You
needed the rest. Going to the doctors takes a lot out of anyone when they've
been through what you have." She set the magazine down. "Can I get
you anything?"

"Yeah.
A new leg. Preferably one that hasn't been broken before." He sat up.

She
grinned. "I can't do that, but I saw some ice cream in the freezer. Want
some?"

***

Joan
went into the kitchen, and Trace relaxed on the couch and took a long breath.
He hadn't felt the inclination to make conversations with a woman in his life.
At thirty-four years old, he'd never desired to have a relationship that lasted
more than an hour or two, and never fully clothed. Being around Joan, he knew
what he wanted was impossible, but it didn't stop him from imagining what it
would be like to come in the house in the evenings and have her asking him how
his day went.

He
wasn't an easy patient for her to take care of, but she'd molded her bedside
manner to appease him. She'd bolstered his confidence, while leaving him his
dignity. Any doctor or hospital would be glad to have someone who adapted to
any situation the way Joan had done with him.

"Here
you go." She carried over a bowl and handed him a spoon. "I'm going
to pretend I didn't see the name Brody on the side of the carton."

"You
got into his maple nut ice cream?" he said, chuckling.

"Yep."
She lifted up the spoon, stuck it in her mouth, and sucked the ice cream off
the utensil. "Remember, you can't tell or I'll confess how it was your
idea and you threatened to fire me if I didn't go in there and make us each a
bowl."

Joan's
lips were shiny from her stolen treat, and her eyes turned up at the corners,
hinting at a devilish side of her that enjoyed bending the rules. She
fascinated him, and he wondered what other things she would do for something
bigger than a bowl of ice cream. He'd enjoy finding out how far she'd go, but
he shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts.

"I'm
sorry about earlier," he said.

"For
what?"

"For
snapping at you and being a pain in the ass."

She
didn't pause in her eating, but talked around the bite in her mouth. "It's
okay. I know this isn't easy for you."

"No.
It's not okay." His eyes met hers. "I usually stay away from others
so I don't overstep my boundaries, but it's hell when I can't walk away to be
by myself."

He
was the first to glance away. She understood. It wasn't his imagination or the
fact that she was the only woman who'd spent time around him lately.