Good Medicine (9 page)

The hydroelectric service from the village didn't extend as far as his cabin. He'd installed solar panels instead, so there was hot water even though the woodstove was out. He stripped off his clothes and stood under the shower faucet, ritually cleansing his hair and body with a bar of handmade soap one of the aunties had given him for a healing ceremony.

Sandrine had taught him that it was important to cleanse before and after a vision quest, before breaking fast. Healers traditionally cleansed in the ocean, and he'd planned to swim, but that was before he'd found Jordan.

Jordan.
He closed his eyes and remembered the sweet warm weight of her in his arms. Her hair had smelled faintly of lemon. The scent of her skin, the proximity of their bodies was arousing. No question, the persistent ache in
his
groin was lust.

But lust was a thing of the body. The spirit had shown him something else, something confusing. The bear in his vision was familiar, but a real bear had visited Jordan at almost the same exact time. He'd seen the tracks, and just as she had said, it had been very close to her.

So was hers, like his, also the powerful bear totem—the spirit of the West Wind, who leads the way into the dream world? And whom or what did the cub represent?

What was the connection between him and Jordan? Whatever it was, he didn't want it. Relationships took too much and gave back too little.

Alone was uncomfortable at times, but he'd chosen to be solitary and he wasn't about to change. He was too damned—old? Selfish? Lazy?

Scared,
Grandmother cackled, but this time he ignored her.

He climbed out of the shower and toweled off. Pulling on old sweatpants and a threadbare shirt, he broke his fast with herbal tea and thick slices of Rose Marie's wheat bread layered with tomato and goat cheese.

He'd had enough practice holding his center, he could continue in spite of this unnerving attraction to the doctor. And then he smiled at how easily he lied to himself. He'd tried his best to avoid her, but the spirit had a sense of humor, literally tossing this woman into his path. And now he wanted to see her again. He needed to know what went on behind that beautiful, sad smile.

He'd make Jordan an herbal poultice and take her Sandrine's stories, but first things first. He climbed the ladder to the sleeping loft and crawled into his nest of blankets and pillows. Right now he needed to sleep. He murmured a prayer of thanksgiving and slid into oblivion.

“Y
ES
,
THANKS
. I'm sleeping really well, Helen.” Jordan settled herself against the pillows and adjusted the angle of the cell phone at her ear. “I thought last night this stupid groin thing might keep me awake, but I lay down at
eight and didn't open my eyes till half an hour ago.” Jordan glanced at the clock. It was seven-thirty-eight. She'd slept almost twelve hours, which was some kind of miracle. Although the painkillers she'd swallowed probably had something to do with it. She'd called Helen the moment she woke to apologize for missing their appointment.

“What about the anxiety attacks?” Helen asked, and Jordan thought about it for a moment.

“You know, spending a night out in the woods by myself and being sniffed over by a bear puts anxiety into perspective. Right now my concerns over Garry and the divorce seem pretty puny.”

“I can see how that would work,” Helen said, and Jordan could tell she was smiling. “Are you making any friends? Anyone you feel comfortable talking to, confiding in?”

Jordan hesitated. Strangely enough, the first person who came to mind was Silas, which was ridiculous. “The nursing supervisor, Christina, is great. And so is her mother, Rose Marie. They came over yesterday, after I finally made it home. They're so thoughtful—they brought food and made sure I was okay. They're very—” Jordan was stuck for a word for a moment “—very nurturing women. It makes me a little uncomfortable. I'm not used to having anyone do things for me.”

“Enjoy it. You deserve some TLC. You've been on the flip side way too long.”

The call ended, and Jordan heaved herself out of bed and onto the crutches Christina had found for her.
It took what seemed forever to get through a shower and struggle into clean sweats.

She was drinking a cup of tea and eating cereal when Silas knocked once and then opened the door.

H
E SMILED AT HER
. The man had a killer smile when he chose to use it.

“Morning, Hop-along.” He came over to the table and set a fat yellow folder down. “Grandmother's stories. How's the groin this morning?”

“Sore as blazes, but I'm keeping the pain at bay with liberal doses of Tylenol.” She wished she'd injured another part of her anatomy, like her ankle or her shoulder. Talking about her groin was somewhat awkward, especially with Silas.

Get a grip, Burke. The man's only interest in you is as a healer.

“Want some tea? There's lots in the pot.”

He shucked off his black leather jacket, and she admired his broad shoulders as he filled a mug. He sat across from her at the table. “Large doses of Tylenol can be hard on your kidneys, you know.”

“So I've heard.” That sounded sarcastic. The guy was just trying to be nice. And even though she was a doctor, it was good to be reminded of medicinal side effects. “I'm a coward when it comes to my own pain, so
I'll swallow whatever it takes. I guess your herbal preparations don't have any side effects, right?”

“They can. They're powerful medicines—they can react badly in the wrong combinations, just like any other drug.”

“How did you learn to use them?”

“Grandmother Sandrine taught me, and I also studied herbalism from books.”

“Christina told me it was Sandrine who taught you to be a healer.”

She just hadn't said why Silas had agreed to learn, and Jordan was curious.

“Yeah. My grandmother was a fantastic teacher.”

“Did you always want to be a healer?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No, it wasn't high on my list of careers. My chosen field was research.”

“What area?”

“Medical.”

He was anything but a blabbermouth. Jordan wasn't about to let him off the hook. “From medical research to hands-on healing…?”

He looked at her for a long time before he answered. He seemed to study every angle of her face, and she forced herself not to glance away. Finally he said, “I was working on a Ph.D. thesis. I came here to observe my grandmother.”

“And you stayed.”

“There's something about Ahousaht that's addictive.”

His words made her smile. She waited to see if he'd reveal anything else.

He swallowed a mouthful of tea. “Got anything sweet to eat?”

So much for revelation. “There's half an apple pie in the fridge, if you like. Roberta brought it over yesterday.”

He got a plate and cut himself a piece. “Want some?”

She started to refuse but then nodded. “Not that much, though.”

He cut her a piece.

“I don't think I've ever eaten apple pie for breakfast before.”

They ate in silence.

He still hadn't answered her question, and Jordan really wanted to know. “So why give up on research to study healing?”

He chewed and swallowed. “Because of my mother.”

“Rose Marie?” Jordan had expected him to say his grandmother, Sandrine. “How so?”

“When I was still a baby and we were living with Angus in Vancouver, she got sick with a rare blood disorder called TTP. Fatally sick. She was covered in bruises, her white-cell count was down to something like thirty-five, and she wasn't expected to live. My father made sure she had the finest specialists, but she got worse. Finally Sandrine came and abducted her, bringing Rose Marie to Ahousaht in a wheelchair.”

Jordan whistled between her teeth. “Thrombotic thrombocytopenic purpura, that's a bad one. I'm familiar with the condition, but it's pretty rare. Until the past few years when plasma exchange became a possi
bility, the survival rate was very low, less than twenty percent. And there were almost always serious side effects.”

“Well, as you can see, Rose Marie survived without any. Sandrine treated her and she got better. Six months later Mom married Peter. Five years later she had Christina, and then much later, Patwin. She's stayed healthy.”

“Sandrine cured her.”

He shook his head. “Patient and healer form a partnership from which each of them benefits, so it's not accurate to simply say Sandrine healed Mom.”

“And you're certain Rose Marie wasn't just misdiagnosed?”

“I dug up the medical records. There was no doubt about the diagnosis.”

“But Sandrine must have done something specific. What medicines did she use?” Jordan was fascinated. She'd heard of spontaneous remission and so-called miracle cures, but she'd never known anyone who'd personally experienced such a thing—if that's what this was. “Herbs?”

“Among other things.” Silas shrugged. “Our treatment is always a combination of methods. Sandrine used herbs, sure. She also used massage, counseling, prayer, song. Vision quests, sweat lodges. Lots of different treatments, and she called on other healers to help.”

“Did you know how sick your mom was?”

“I was too young. I didn't know about it until I came back here as an adult. Even then, I didn't believe it until I saw the medical reports.”

“So you stayed, and your grandmother taught you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you happy living here?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished she'd never said them. What right did she have to ask about happiness? It was something that had eluded her most of her life. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Way too personal.”

“I read somewhere that happiness is a choice we make every morning. Sometimes I remember to choose, sometimes I forget.” He swallowed what was left of his tea. “What about you? Are you happy, Jordan?”

“I'd be a lot closer to it if my damned leg didn't hurt so much.”

“Try this poultice.” He drew a packet out of his pack, something pungent sewn into a cheesecloth. “Steep this in just enough hot water to get it moist, let it cool just enough to tolerate, and then bind it to where it hurts.”

“Thank you.” She eyed the compress suspiciously and then wrinkled her nose when she sniffed it. “It smells unusual. What's in it?”

“Willow leaves, which are anti-inflammatory. Comfrey root. Arnica.”

“I'll give it a try, thank you.”

“If you need any help fastening it to your groin, just ask.”

“Thanks, but Christina is handy that way.”

“How come I never get to do any of the fun stuff?”

She gave him a look. “You know, Silas, the first time I talked to you I had you pegged as a cranky old eccentric.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The old part really smarts.”

“You answered the phone when I called about the job, and you were so abrupt I thought you had a reason for not wanting me to come.”

“I'd forgotten about that. I was just in a rush to make it to a welcoming ceremony for a new baby.”

“So you had no objections to me being hired?”

He hesitated. “Not exactly. I just figured you wouldn't stay. It's tough on the locals. They start to rely on a service and bingo, it's gone.”

“Do you still feel that way about me?”

“Yes.”

The simple admission surprised her. He was certainly honest, but it made her defensive.

“And why is that?”

“You're from the big city. It's isolating and lonely to be in a place where the customs aren't what you're used to.” He flashed that devilish grin. “The natives are friendly, but they're still natives.”

“I can learn and adapt. I've had more practice than most at blending into other people's lives.” She thought of the foster homes she'd lived in before she finally settled into the last one. And even there, she'd been constantly on trial.

“Why did you really come here, Jordan?”

She wasn't ready to bare her soul. “I needed to get away from the city. I
wanted
to get away from the city,” she corrected herself. Dammit to hell, she wasn't about to share the story of her failed marriage with him. “I don't know how it'll be long-term, but so far I like it
here,” she said. “Well, I didn't like communing with bears that much, but then I'm not going to make a habit of falling off walkways. Apart from that one little slip, I'm settling in. I think I'll be very—” she almost said happy “—content living here. The women in your family have made me really welcome, and I appreciate that.”

His expression told her he wasn't buying it. “You're a highly qualified E.R. doctor. Apart from the odd mishap with a power saw, this job isn't going to challenge you. You'll get bored, miss the adrenaline rush of the E.R.”

“I thought of that, and yes, I probably will miss it at times.”

He nodded. “A year is a long time.”

“I guess it can be.” Whatever intimacy they'd shared was gone. She glanced at the clock. “And it's ticking past. Right now I've got to hobble over to the clinic. I have patients to see this morning.” She put a hand on the compress. “Thank you for this, and for the stories. I can't wait to read them.”

He was on his feet, putting on his jacket. “When that groin heals enough so you don't need a crutch, maybe you'd like to sightsee with a qualified guide instead of blundering around on your own?”

The man always caught her off guard. First he clearly let her know he didn't approve of her being here, and in the next breath he—was he asking her out on a date? If so, his technique was rusty.

“What did you have in mind?”

“You've heard of the hot springs?”

She had. Christina had told her about the natural mineral springs on the island, and that tourists flew over from Tofino or took a boat from the village to visit them. “I've heard they're breathtaking.”

“They're healing. The mineral water is excellent for muscle stress. Except we can't go until you can walk. We'll go by boat, and then we'll have to hike in for about twenty minutes. Whenever you're up to it.”

So it wasn't a date. He was a healer simply thinking of ways to help her recover. Why did she feel disappointed?

“Sounds good, Silas. I'll look forward to it.”

“We're better off not going on the weekend, too many tourists. Can you get away midweek for an afternoon?”

“Barring emergencies, I don't see why not.”

“As soon as you can hike up a hill, we'll go.”

He drew a plastic baggie out of his pocket. “Oops, almost forgot this.” He tossed it on the table. It contained dark green-and-brown herbs. “Boil the herbs in a kettle full of water about twenty minutes and then drink a half cup at a time. It'll ease the pain.”

“Thanks again.”

“I'll come by this evening and see how you're doing. If you're not busy?”

“I'll check my day timer—I do have this frantic social life. But somehow I believe tonight is free.”

“Yes, I heard the symphony got canceled. Bummer.” He smiled and gave her a small salute and then he was
gone, leaving Jordan wondering what the heck to make of him.

Was he coming on to her? The sexual teasing had made her think so, but then he retreated behind the role of healer.

Silas was complex. And she was out of her league, because really, what did she know about men? The only male she'd ever had a satisfactory long-term relationship with was her brother, and she didn't see Toby that often. She'd thought she knew Garry, and look how wrong she'd been there. There had to be some weakness, some fatal flaw in her that had drawn Garry to her. She'd said that once to Helen.

“We all have wounds in our psyche that need to be healed,” the psychiatrist had said. “I believe we attract the individual who has the most potential to help us heal those wounds. Sometimes it's through negative lessons, as it's been for you with Garry. Sometimes it can be positive, but the potential for healing is always there, on both sides, in any relationship.”

It sounded rational, but Jordan hadn't really understood it. And she didn't have time to dwell on it. Grabbing her crutches, she hobbled off to work.