The Healer (5 page)

Luce shuffled nervously, then let out an audible sigh.

“Look. I don’t know why I’m saying this, because every instinct I have is telling me to let you walk away.”

Jonah’s heart skipped a beat. He knew what she was going to say. He saw into the years and what could be with them. The issue was, should he stay and risk her safety, or leave and risk his heart? He waited. It had to be her call.

When Luce looked into his eyes, she lost focus and fell into what she thought later was a dream. She saw them together, in life and in bed. She saw laughter and tears, and then, out of nowhere, felt danger. She blinked, and the moment was gone.

Jonah was surprised by his own feeling of despair when she stayed silent. He nodded at her once, as if accepting her decision, and turned away.

“Wait!” Luce cried.

Jonah looked back.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Nowhere.”

“What brought you here?”

“Just looking for a job and a place to winter.”

Luce felt panic, but she couldn’t stay silent as the inevitability of her words overcame her.

“I might know of something,” she said. “But you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to check on it. If you’re interested, I’m offering my home and a meal, and a warm place to sleep tonight.”

It was more than he’d hoped for.

“I’m interested,” he said softly.

“Then follow me,” she said, and whistled to Hobo, who quickly moved to her side. She turned and began walking higher up the mountain, with the old dog at her side.

Jonah fell in behind them. A few minutes later, they walked out of the trees and into a clearing.

Luce paused, waiting for Jonah to catch up.

“Here we are,” she said, pointing. “Home sweet home.”

Jonah knew he was staring, but he’d never seen anything quite like it. There was a front door, and a small jutting roof with an accompanying porch that seemed to have been built into the face of the mountain. The path leading up to it was paved with flat pieces of natural rock, and there were small flower beds, now devoid of flowers, on either side of the steps.

“This belongs to you?” he asked.

“Lord no. I don’t own anything but the clothes on my back. Even Hobo is his own man. He stays with me because he chooses, not because I own him. This place belongs to Bridie Tuesday, an old woman who lives a bit farther up the mountain. She lets me live here, and in return, I help her out when I can. The rest of the time, I wait tables in the diner down in Little Top.”

A gust of chilly wind swept through the clearing, causing Luce to shudder. “Let’s get inside and out of this wind.”

She moved quickly, and moments later was at the door, then standing aside waiting for Jonah to enter.

His first reaction to the house had been on target. Someone had built a house in a cave. But someone had also taken the trouble to partition off some rooms and lay a floor. The old floors were tongue-in-groove, worn smooth as glass by the passage of time. The only openings that let in natural light were the big windows on either side of the front door. There were candles and oil lamps sitting about the rooms, but when Luce flipped on a switch, he was surprised to see that the place was also wired for electricity.

“Electricity?”

“Even an electric water heater, running water and a propane tank, although the place is mostly heated by the old fireplace.”

“This place is amazing,” he said.

“It is, isn’t it? Bridie lived here with her husband for over thirty years before he built her a new house a bit farther up,” Luce said, then tried to get past the awkwardness of having a total stranger in her place by smiling shyly. “Follow me. I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

She led the way out of the main room to a short passage that led to a pair of doors. She opened the one on the left, switched on another light and then stepped aside.

Jonah stood for a few moments, feeling the confusion of her emotions, but he didn’t know what to say to make this any easier. Finally he moved past her and entered the room.

There was an old metal bed against one wall, an aging armoire a few feet from the bed and a small table near the headboard. A handmade, multi-colored rag rug was on the floor, and a small stack of books sat on a shelf above the table.

Luce shoved her hands in her pockets, then took them out and clasped them behind her instead, as she stepped just inside the doorway.

“No one ever sleeps here, so the sheets are clean, even if they’re not fresh. If you get cold in the night, there’s an extra quilt in the armoire. Take your time getting settled. I’m going to start supper.”

She had started to leave when Jonah reached for her, then stopped himself and spoke instead.

“Thank you for this.”

“I’ve been where you are…on the road, I mean. You helped me. I’m happy to return the favor. The bathroom is next door, if you want to clean up. There are a few extra towels and washcloths in your armoire. Make yourself at home.”

Jonah started to say something, then seemed to think better of it and nodded briefly as Luce left. What else was there to say?

He set his backpack on the floor near the armoire, dug out clean clothes, got a towel and washcloth, and headed for the bathroom.

The room was small, but the old claw-footed tub was long and deep. Just the thought of a good long soak had him hurrying to strip off his clothes. Within minutes, he was chest-deep in the tub, with his eyes closed, savoring the warmth and the clean scent of Luce Andahar’s soap.

He wondered about her, how she’d come to be in this place and alone in the world, then shifted his focus to the task at hand and began scrubbing himself clean.

Once he’d finished his bath, he used some of her shampoo. This was all such an unexpected luxury that he was reluctant to get out. But a warm meal was no farther away than the other side of the door, and it was a long time since he’d been invited to someone’s table. Hunger won out. Before he could talk himself into staying longer, he opened the drain and then stood up. He was reaching for a towel when Luce knocked on the door.

“Supper will be ready in about five minutes,” she called.

“I’ll be right there,” Jonah answered, and began drying off.

Luce repeated the alphabet on the way back to the stove. It was all she could think of to do to keep her mind off the fact that there was a naked stranger on the other side of her bathroom door.

As Jonah was dressing, he began smelling the aroma of the food she’d cooked. His belly growled, reminding him again of how long it had been since he’d eaten a real meal. He hung his wet towel and washcloth on pegs in the wall, then picked up his dirty clothes and dumped them in his room. He walked into the main room in his sock feet just as Luce was lifting a large pot from the stove.

“Here, let me help,” he said, and took the pot and set it on the table. “If this tastes as good as it smells, I’m in heaven.”

Luce was surprised at the spurt of pleasure his words gave her. It had been a long time since someone had praised her in any way without trying to get in her pants. Then she frowned. What made her think this man was any different? She’d brought him into her home without knowing a thing about him. Except…She glanced at Hobo, who was lying by the fireplace, and remembered what he’d done. A man like him—a man who held the promise of life in his hands—surely wouldn’t be a man who also caused harm. It had to be okay.

“It’s just vegetable soup,” she said, and moved back to the oven to pull out a pan of cornbread.

Jonah’s eyes widened. “Did you make all this yourself?”

Luce nodded. “Sit. I’ll get the butter and honey.”

Jonah sat, then closed his eyes momentarily, letting the warmth and the scents of her home and food envelop him. She’d asked him if he was an angel, but from where he was sitting, she was the one with wings. This place and this food were the closest thing to heaven that he’d known in years.

When he opened his eyes, Luce was filling his bowl with soup. His hands were shaking as he reached for a hot yellow square of the cornbread, and when he took the first bite of the warm bread and butter, he shuddered.

Luce frowned. “Are you okay?” Then she rolled her eyes, a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, that was a stupid question to ask a man who makes miracles.”

Jonah swallowed, then looked at her from across the table.

“It’s just…it’s been a long time since…” Surprised that he was stuttering, he took a breath to steady his thoughts. “I haven’t been inside a home in a very long time.”

Luce couldn’t help but wonder what had put him on the road alone, as she filled her own bowl. Her curiosity continued as she buttered her cornbread, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask.

Hobo glanced up from his place near the fire just long enough to look at the table, then went back to the bone he was chewing. Every now and then he licked at the place on his leg where it had been caught in the trap, even though it was unnecessary. There was no wound. No pain. Just the memory of it, and the man who’d made it go away. For the dog, it was enough.

They ate in relative silence until the first pangs of hunger had been assuaged. Luce was the first to start talking.

“Where are you from?”

An old pain twisted a knot in his belly as he remembered the hunting camp in which he’d grown up.

“Alaska.”

Luce’s eyes widened. “Really? Is it true that they get six months of darkness and six months of light?”

Jonah smiled. “Pretty much.”

“Do you still have family back there?”

Immediately, Jonah’s thoughts went to Adam, and what he’d looked like the last time he’d seen him—lying dead in their kitchen in his own blood. “My father…he was actually my adopted father…was a doctor. A medical doctor. But he’s…dead now.”

Luce heard the word
adopted
and keyed in on that.

“What about your natural parents?”

“I have no idea,” Jonah said. He didn’t bother to tell her how he’d been told that, for a time, he’d been suckled by a wolf. To stop the questions before they got too personal, he turned the tables. “What about you? How do you come to be here and on your own?”

“I’m not alone. Thanks to you, I still have my Hobo.”

Jonah sensed she was dodging the truth and, not for the first time, wondered if she was on the run.

“Where did you grow up?” he asked.

Luce’s face lit up. “I grew up in a barrio in L.A. Papa laid tile.
Mi madre
cleaned houses for rich people. I was the youngest of four children. Our life was simple, but it was wonderful.”

Jonah felt her sorrow long before she’d finished her tale.

“Every summer after school was out, we would travel from L.A. to Texas to spend time with Mama’s family. The summer I was fourteen, we were driving through New Mexico on our way to Texas. We were all asleep, so I only know what I was told, but they say a truck driver fell asleep at the wheel, crossed the center median and hit us head-on. Everyone died but me.”

She swallowed around the knot in her throat, then took a quick sip of water.

Jonah sighed. Her sorrow was still as deep and fresh as the day it had happened.

“I’m so sorry,” he said softly.

Luce shrugged. “So am I.” Then she lifted her chin. “I lived with an aunt and uncle until I was almost sixteen, then left. I haven’t seen them since.”

“Why? Why cut yourself off from your family?”

A muscle ticced near the corner of her eye.

“Let’s just say I got tired of dodging my uncle’s affections,” she muttered, then looked away.

Jonah flinched. “Again…I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” She stood abruptly. “Enough of the past. I’m going to do the dishes.”

“What can I do to help?” Jonah asked.

“You could bring in some wood for the fire. You’ll find the woodpile just to the left of the porch.”

The conversation had opened up old wounds for both of them, and so they finished the evening in silence, with Hobo following Jonah in and out of the house with every trip he made carrying wood.

It began to rain just after dark. The firewood Jonah had carried in was stacked beside the fireplace. He was bringing in the last armful when the first drops of rain began to fall.

“It’s raining,” he said, as Luce took a stick of wood from his load and added it to the fire that was already burning.

She looked up at him, saw the raindrops on his face and then the ones glistening in his hair, and had to make herself think past how sexy he was to the conversation at hand.

“Well, shoot,” she said, as she grabbed the poker and began stabbing at the logs. “From in here, you can’t hear what’s happening outside. I was hoping that the rain would pass us by. Now I’ll be walking in mud all the way to work tomorrow.”

“You have no car?”

She shrugged. “It wouldn’t do me any good if I did. I never learned to drive.”

Jonah frowned, remembering that she’d told him she waited tables in the diner in town. He put down the last of the wood, then straightened up and looked around.