Playing Doctor (Bandit Creek Books) (8 page)

“Yep, the end of the road and the family farm.”

“Big place,” he said looking at all the buildings, barns and vehicles. “What do your parents farm?”

“A little bit of everything, but dad considers himself a rancher. He grows his own feed grain, hay and makes his own silage.”

“Silage?”

“It’s fermented hay and grain. It’s what the cows eat in the winter.”

“Huh, sort of a bovine version of a beer?”

She laughed at that. “No, not that fermented.”

Several tall male figures came out of the house and the main barn. Five in all.

“Wonderful, my dad, brothers and even a couple of uncles are here. Be prepared to run the gauntlet.”

“I can handle them.”

“I don’t think you can handle my Aunt Marie if she’s here.”

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t have an edit button. So don’t be surprised if she asks you your intentions toward me in a rather straightforward way.”

“I like straightforward.”

“On second thought, it might be fun to watch you squirm for once.”

He stopped the Jeep fairly close to the house and got out. She barely had time to close the passenger door before her oldest brother enveloped her in a bear hug from.

“Doug, you’re squishing me.”

“Sorry Abs.” He let her go, but took at good look at her face. “Geez, you did get cut up good.”

“Thanks.”

She was hugged next by her other brother Harold and her Uncles Lee and George. When she turned around Smitty was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Smitty?”

“I think Dad took him inside to meet the women.”

She sighed. Her mother and Aunt Marie were going to rip him to shreds. “Well, I did warn him.”

Chapter Nine

A
bby went on the hunt, but it didn’t take long for her to find her quarry. Smitty was in the kitchen laughing with her mother, aunt and her brother’s wives.

“Oh sweetheart,” her mother said clapping her hands together. “I’m so glad you found a man who can cook.” Her blue eyes were warm with excitement.

What was she talking about? “Huh?”

“He just gave us his recipe for hollandaise sauce and I can’t wait to try it.”

Her mother, aunt and sisters-in-law were staring at him with identical expressions of admiration and glee. “He makes a pretty good eggs Benedict.”

They laughed like she’d said the funniest thing. On purpose. Which she did not.

“Well ladies,” Smitty said to the group. “I hate to say it, but we need to be going.”

“Of course,” her mother said, scurrying over to the fridge and pulling out a bag. “I’ve made some sandwiches for you. There’s a couple of stocked coolers and a crate of food for you to take to the cabin.”

Coolers? A crate? “Mom, we’re not going to be there that long.”

She blushed and winked. “Well, you never know.”

She didn’t k now what he said to them, and given the reactions of her female relatives, it really didn’t matter. Smitty was a dead man.

“Right, thanks mom.” She turned and stomped outside. Low and behold, there were the coolers and a crate of food that didn’t need to be refrigerated. She loaded the crate into the back, and Smitty appeared at her shoulder with one of the coolers.

“You’re mom is awesome.”

“That’s because you’re the first creature with testosterone floating around in his bloodstream I’ve allowed anywhere near me since I got home.”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “Good to know.”

She glared at him. “You’ve gotten all the knowing you’re going to get.” She got into the Jeep and slammed the passenger door.

He got in a few seconds later, the grin nowhere to be seen. “What’s up with you?”

“Drive.”

He stared at her for a few more seconds then started the engine and drove out of the yard and down the two-wheel track that was the road to the cabin.

“What I’d like to know is what you said to my relatives.”

“Which ones?”

“The women.”

“Your mom asked me if I could cook. I mentioned eggs Benedict as my specialty, she asked what I used for sauce and we traded recipes.”

“You traded recipes?” It could not be that simple. “That’s all?”

“Yeah. Why are you so mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, I’m irritated. There’s a difference.”

“Not from where I’m sitting.”

“You’ve been here all of what two days and you’ve already made friends with half the people in town and every member of my family you’ve met.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. Everything.” Her hand curled into a fist. “It’s just not fair.”

“Abby, you’re not making any sense.”

“I come home from hell to a place where I know everyone, hell, where I’m related to a quarter of the population, where I should feel safe, but all I feel is terror.” She turned her head to stare him into the ground. “It’s not fair.”

Instead of backing off or backing down he stopped the Jeep and put it into park. “Terror?”

Fuck.

She turned away from his too discerning gaze to stare at the road. “Drive.”

“Terror, Abby?”

“I won’t talk about it now.”

“We will talk about it.”

“Fine, we’ll talk. Later. Right now, drive.”

A second passed. Two. Then he put the Jeep in gear and drove.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Her father must have told him where to go, but he paused as the track split off into two.

“Right or left?” he asked her.

“Left.”

The track on the left looked only marginally passable.

“What was the last time someone was at this cabin?”

“Don’t know.”

“How rough is it?”

“Not bad.”

“Is there a water source?”

“Yes.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, can you give me more than two word answers?”

She was being childish, she knew it, but she still wanted to hit him. “There’s a natural spring close to the cabin. Dad set up a filtration system, so water isn’t a worry.”

“What is?”

“I’m angry.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“I got that too.”

“When I catch the person who’s shooting at me, I’m going to ring his neck.”

“Okay. And...”

“I won’t have a problem doing it.”

He blew out a gust of air. “I still don’t get it.”

“I’m a damn doctor. I shouldn’t be looking forward to hurting anyone like I’m looking forward to hurting this guy.”

He appeared to think about it, but only came out with, “So?”

“So?” she repeated. “Really, that’s all you’ve got to say? So?”

“What’s the problem? Everyone has a right to get angry at someone who’s trying to hurt them.”

“No. Not angry. I want to hurt him.”

“You’re allowed to feel that way, Abby.”

“I can’t allow myself to take pleasure in another person’s pain. That is a violation of everything I hold dear.”

He tilted his head and she could see him thinking about what she said. “Bullshit.”

“Fuck off. You’re a soldier. You’re trained to hit back.”

“If a man comes at you with a knife, are you going to let him stab you with it?”

“No. I’d disarm him, tie him up and ask him what the fuck. But, that’s not what’s happening here. Someone is trying to kill me and endangering a whole boatload of other people in the process. I’m so angry that he would do this that I want to hurt him.”

“Are you angry about him trying to kill you or the possibility he might hurt someone else as he’s trying to kill you?”

“The someone else part.”

“So, the trying to kill you part doesn’t make you mad?”

“Who cares?” she yelled. “The number of innocent bystanders that could get hurt is staggering.”

“So is the number of people you can help or save or get healthy again. You act as if your death would be insignificant, when it’s the opposite.”

“I want to prevent a bloodbath, not treat a roomful of bullet wounds.”

“By dying?”

She recoiled as if he’d struck her. “I never said that.”

“It sounded like suicide by nutcase to me.”

“Suicide? I’m not suicidal.”

“Anyone who says they’d rather be shot than not, sounds like they’re signing up for hari-kari detail.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

“I don’t think so. I also don’t think you can even hear what you’re saying.”

“And what is that?”

“A cry for help.”

No one could help her. She’d already made the mistake and forgiveness would never come because she’d killed the people who could offer it.

But, if it would get Smitty off her back, she’d play the game his way for a while. “Is there help for people like me? Like us?”

He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes. I think there is. All you have to do is accept it.”

“How?”

“You could try talking about it, about the crash.”

“I told the Sheriff, and it seemed to help, for a little while. I can barely bring myself to think about it without wanting to throw up. Who could I talk to? How do I talk about it?”

“You could talk to me, and you talk about it any way you can.”

She released a deep sigh. “I’m so tired, so very, very tired of carrying all this crap around.”

“I know how you feel.”

“Do you? Do you relive it over and over? Do you hear the screams and smell the blood?”

“Yeah. I was there and I haven’t forgotten a thing.”

She let the silence coat her open wounds for a moment until she felt like she’d been given an anesthetic for the worst ones. “I feel so damn guilty I survived when so many others didn’t.”

“Survivor’s guilt sucks.”

“I understand, rationally, that I shouldn’t feel that way, but reason seems to be irrelevant. I also knew I’d feel this way, yet that doesn’t seem to make a difference either.”

“Emotions aren’t rational and never will be.”

“What really bothers me in the middle of the night is all the people I could have saved had we been just a little closer to help. Had the chopper survived the crash just a little better.”

“We’re lucky anyone survived the crash.”

“I don’t feel lucky.”

“Listen, all you can do is focus on the future and figure out how you can pay it forward. You’ve been given a second chance at life. Don’t waste it.”

“You think that might help?”

“It couldn’t hurt.”

She stopped talking and let herself think about it for all of a second or two. No, there was only one way for this to end and it wasn’t with counseling sessions at another doctor’s office. “I’ll consider it.”

They continued across the bumpy track, heading into denser trees. It almost looked like the trail ended abruptly in a wall of foliage, but there was a dip and a turn that took them to the right, then left and they were at the cabin. It wasn’t large, just one room with a loft, a wood burning stove and enough sleeping bags for a small army.

The sun was setting, which meant they didn’t have long to move their supplies inside before they lost their light. They moved quickly, but efficiently together, working to get the job done as if they’d never been apart.

By the time full dark had fallen, they had a fire going in stove, lanterns lighting up the interior of the cabin and a can of beans heating.

“Beans for supper?” Smitty asked as he brought in his duffel bag. “Isn’t that a bit cliché?”

“I’m adding some wieners to it.”

“Sounds like a meal for champions.”

“Heh.” She stirred the beans, then began cutting up the wieners.

“Where are the beds?”

“Up there.” she pointed at the loft. “And there’s only one.”

“Only one, huh?”

“It’ll fit two sleeping bags.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m not out here for fun.” It wasn’t until the words were out that she realized how harsh they sounded.

Warm hands landed on her back then slid up to massage her neck and shoulders. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She closed her eyes. “And I’m tired. More tired than I’ve ever been in my life.” She rotated her head, stretching underneath his hands. “It’s making me bitchy.”

His body heat seeped into her muscles and she leaned back to put them in contact. His hands continued to massage her neck and shoulders, though every now and again he put his fingers under the front of her t-shirt and worked the muscles below her collarbone.

She wanted him to move them further down to her breasts, to take their heavy weight into his hands and massage them until she couldn’t remember the reason they were hiding out in the bush.