“Show me where you want to put your clinic.” The question surprised Diana almost as much as Rafe.
In the process of picking up her purchases, he stopped. “What?”
“Evita told me about your clinic. I want to see it.”
“Why?”
Why did she, except to try to understand a man who would soon be only a memory? “Never mind.”
He studied her. “I can’t do it today. I have to run some errands after I drop you off.” He headed out the front door to his pickup.
“Patients,” she surmised.
He shrugged. “Just…friends who need help.”
“Are you licensed at all?”
“No.”
The risks were breathtaking, but surely he knew that. “What would that require?”
He hesitated, eyebrows drawn together. “I have training equivalent to a PA.”
“Physician’s Assistant? Really? Where did you get your training?”
“Eighteen months at a special joint operations medical center at Fort Bragg. I’m qualified to handle a whole laundry list—gunshot wounds, burns, field surgery, anesthesia, delivering babies—you name it.”
She thought about it a minute. “So…most everything a physician can do.”
He nodded. “Everything but write prescriptions.”
“But you need a supervising physician, right? Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Have you tried?”
Stacking her purchases on the seat between them, he glanced over at her. “Are you offering?”
“Me?” She drew back. “I couldn’t—”
“I know, I know,” he said. “You won’t be here. You’re going to get your life back.”
Her heart beat a little too fast. “You don’t believe I will? You did it. Rosaria told me they said you’d never walk again, but you proved them wrong.”
His patient gaze held too much of pity. He started the engine and pulled away. “I’m not jumping out of airplanes on rescue missions, Diana.” He paused as if to say something more, then shook his head and looked straight ahead.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
Something in her wouldn’t let the topic go, even though the last thing she wanted to do was discuss his obvious belief that her career was finished. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?”
She saw a muscle in his jaw jump. “I would never say that to you.” When he turned, those eerie eyes blazed. “Even knowing very little about you, I know you’ve fought long odds before to make it to where you are. I know you’ve got guts and brains and heart—”
Fury rocketed around the cab, making the air hot and hard to breathe, but mingled with it was something she would think about later. Something that felt a lot like pride. She hadn’t known pride in a very long time, and she drank it in like precious water in the desert.
“Is there a but in there somewhere?” she asked, holding her breath, realizing that Rafe’s opinion mattered much more than it should.
He let out his own breath in a gust. Stopping the pickup in front of her cabin, he turned to face her. “Not a but, not exactly.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “I think if anyone can make it back, it’s you. I don’t know what all those battles were that you fought before, but you didn’t have anything handed to you, did you?”
“No.” She’d never had anyone who really understood. The relief that he might be one who did was almost dizzying. “No, I didn’t.”
His eyes were so gentle when they looked at her. “Your will has been enough to get you past all those barriers, but you’ve been a doctor long enough to know that sometimes all the will in the world isn’t enough.”
She pulled her gaze away from his, blinking. “It will be. I just—I got in too big a hurry—I see that now,” she said in a rush, as if she could outrun his logic. “I’ll be more patient when I go back, and I won’t fight them on any of it—”
His hand on hers halted her in her tracks. Its warmth and comfort made her want to curl up in his lap and weep. “Diana,” he said. “If you won’t let me help, talk to Abuelita. Your brain and your heart are fighting, and your hand is the battleground.”
He didn’t say she wouldn’t make it. She clung to that. “Herbs won’t fix my hand.”
He sighed, but he didn’t let go. She didn’t want him to. “Your surgeon’s mind won’t help now. Let go of it, just while you’re here.”
“But a surgeon is who I am—” It’s all I am, she thought. That had always been enough, and she didn’t like feeling that was wrong.
“You’ve let it be who you are. You’ve told yourself it’s all you need because it was all you’d let yourself have.” Those mage’s eyes saw too deeply into her. “What about love, Diana?” His voice walked right down inside her and made her feel too much. “What about family? You don’t want to be alone forever, do you?”
She pulled her hand away and faced the front. “It’s not smart to depend on anyone but yourself. In the end, we’re all alone. We just kid ourselves that things are different.”
“We are alone.” That he didn’t argue surprised her. “But facing that doesn’t mean that we have to give up what makes life good—family and friends and love. There’s no reason to deny yourself. There’s room for all of it.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “But everything can be taken away,” she whispered. “Love can disappear.”
“Who was taken away from you, mi bonita?”
Everyone. She blinked several times, locking her jaw against speaking of her family. She would break down, and she needed all her strength now. “It doesn’t matter. You have to get on to your patients.” She reached for the door handle, but his hand gripped her chin and turned her to him.
“If you can’t trust me, please trust my grandmother,” he said, his eyes as soft and dark as velvet, as sorrowful as the waning of a long, gray day.
She wanted to. More than she’d ever imagined. “I—” She tried to tell him all the reasons she couldn’t, but she was feeling too much and it hurt more than she could stand.
He released her chin but laid that hand against her cheek. She could feel the calluses and the strength in his fingers. She wanted to seek shelter in his embrace and find the respite that had eluded her for so long.
“Sh-h,” he soothed. “Let it go. Allow your heart to rest, just for a little while.” He leaned forward and placed his forehead against hers. Under his breath, he murmured in Spanish, and it sounded like prayer.
Peace slid into her, a peace different from the one she felt at Rosaria’s but no less comforting. The solace of immense power, the knowledge of shared sorrow. He understood her in a way no one ever had, and his compassion poured into the empty places inside her until she wanted to cry out, to latch on. To hold fast—
Fear hit her then, and she recoiled from its slap. The slide into intimacy was too quick. He wouldn’t be there for her; he couldn’t be. He belonged here and she didn’t. She would go back and he would stay. He had many people who depended on him and he would never desert them.
She averted her gaze from his, knowing that she would see sorrow. Hoping pity didn’t taint it.
As she fumbled with the door handle, she grappled for the composure that had once been second nature, dragging her worn, tarnished shields back in place around her to protect the heart he touched too easily.
She wouldn’t run away, no matter how she wanted to do so. Drawing upon every ounce of control she could manage, she stepped from the pickup. “Thank you for the ride,” she said with a voice that sounded false even to her ears.
After a very long pause, he nodded. “You’re welcome.”
She clasped the quilt to her chest and watched him drive away.
Wishing it weren’t so foolish to want to ask him to stay.
Chapter Seven
“Sam, i need some of your magic.”
“Diana—” Her hospital administrator’s
surprise turned to caution. “How are you doing?”
“How do you think I am—stuck in Outer Mongolia?”
“You need the rest,” he said. “You were pushing too hard.”
“If I get any more rest I might as well become a vegetable.”
“Are you truly miserable or is this just carping?”
She paused, then sighed. “Some of both, I guess. I don’t belong here. I’m going nuts with no car.”
“You were going nuts around here, too,” he reminded her. “How’s the hand?”
She looked down. “I can’t tell.” And it sank in her gut like a stone. “Damn it, Sam, what about my patients? No one will talk to me.”
“Diana, we agreed—” Frustration slid into regret. “Everyone’s being taken care of.”
It was what she hoped—and feared. “Judd’s got to be delirious. He’s the man now. Got me out of his way—” To her horror, her voice wobbled.
Sam sighed. “He’s a very competent surgeon, you know that. He’ll do his best for your patients, and—” A pause. A long one. “We’ve got a new guy arriving soon.”
“New guy—” Diana’s ears rang with her terror. “You’ve replaced me? Sam, I’m going to get better. You have to believe that. I’m—oh, man, I’m coming back now. Right now, do you hear me?” She hated how her voice had turned shrill. With effort, she lowered it. “You can’t do this. I’ve got a contract. You need me.”
“Listen to me, and stop freaking out.” In his voice she heard the administrator now, not the friend. “We need help. We’re not looking to replace you. This guy wanted a one-year position for personal reasons—”
“A year?” she exclaimed. “It’s not going to take me a year—”
He broke in. “No one’s saying you will, but you can’t be sure how long you’ll be out of commission and neither can we. Your caseload was always heavy. Judd can’t handle all your patients and his, too—you know that.” Another pause, then the friend spoke again. “Swear to God, no one’s looking to replace you. We couldn’t if we wanted to—there’s only one Miracle Morgan.”
She wrapped her free arm around her waist and bent double, trying to still the trembling. “Oh, God, Sam, why did this happen?” she whispered. “Was it pride? Did I deserve this?”
“No one deserves it,” he said, sounding tired. “Listen, Diana, we’re all just doing the best we can. No one wants you back in shape more than me. You’re missed by everyone around here.”
She pictured Judd Carter and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I just bet.”
He chuckled. “All right, so you were no saint, but you go the distance and then some for every patient, and the entire staff respects that.” He paused. “Even Judd Carter.”
She cleared her throat of the sudden fullness. “I miss it so much, Sam.”
“I know you do.” They were both silent for a time. “So what’s this magic you want from me?”
“I want an ECG machine. Doesn’t have to be cutting edge.”
“What’s this about? What are you doing? Damn it, Diana, you’re supposed to be resting.”
Sam Calvert never swore. “It’s not for me.”
“Who, then?”
How to explain Rafe Sandoval? “You know the caretaker you told me about? How come you didn’t tell me the cabin belonged to him?”
“I didn’t know. What’s he got to do with this?”
She thought about trying to tell him about Rosaria, but she didn’t trust him not to sneer.
Like you did, Diana?
“He’s a former medic. Special Forces. Lots of advanced training. The people around here have no health care options closer than a hundred thirty-five miles and no money to get care, anyway. He’s trying to build a clinic to help them, but he’s having to scrounge up his equipment. The ECG isn’t all he needs, but there’s one patient—”
“Where’s his funding coming from?”
“His pocket, best I can tell.”
“Who’s supervising him? What’s his certification?”
She laughed then. “Sam…none of that applies out here. You have no idea what this place is like. It’s almost a Third World country.”
“You have a contract with Mercy, Diana. Any lawsuits would spill over onto us. I can’t allow that.”
She knew he was right. Hadn’t she made similar points about liability to Rafe? Still, something in her rebelled. “I told you I’m not involved. There’s no jeopardy to the hospital. Rafe doesn’t even know I’m doing this.”
“Why are you?” he asked.
She paused, wishing she herself knew.
“Never mind,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t even ask the same woman who’s talked me into more pro bono patients than a sane man should allow.” He was quiet for a second, and she could hear a pen tapping on a desk. “Okay. We don’t have one to spare, but I seem to recall that Northwest was looking to acquire some equipment from us. I’ll see what they might be willing to trade.”
“How soon? I need it right away, Sam. There’s this old man—”
“You said you weren’t involved.”
“He’s Rafe’s patient, but I want to help somehow. Rafe is fighting an uphill battle.”
“Rafe, huh? And you’re living in his cabin?”
“He doesn’t live there. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“It’s not in the gutter. An affair would be good for you. God knows you deserve some fun after all you’ve been through.”
The affection in his voice almost undid her. They’d gone toe to toe when he’d arrived at Mercy, but he’d become her staunchest advocate. “I’m not having an affair.”
“Well, think about it. If he’s a good guy, that is.”
“He’s got his own problems, but yeah,” she said. “He’s a good guy.”
“So—” Sam said. “Enough touchy-feely for me. I’ll see what I can do on the machine.”
Diana laughed at his discomfort. “Thanks, Sam.” Then a smile curved her lips. “And while you’re looking, here are few other things Rafe could use.”
Sam groaned, but he made a list.
She awoke from her nap in stages, caught in a dream of a time before her father left them, a rare day when she’d had his notice and felt the warm sun of his approval. She’d been in the seventh grade honors program and had taken the Preliminary SAT. She’d been recognized by Duke University as exceptional.
They were having a special dinner in her honor. Her favorite foods of the time: fajitas and her mother’s scrumptious cherry pie. All was right with the world: her mother was smiling, her father’s regard focused on her, so heady she felt she could float to the ceiling like the balloon that had escaped from the bunch he’d brought home and tied to her chair.
A dog barked. The dream vanished.
Diana rolled to her side, curling to hold on to it.
Her book hit the floor. Her eyes flew open.
Outside, she heard a voice, low and soothing. Dulcita’s excited yap. The shuffle of a horse’s hooves, the jingle of a bridle.
She stretched and yawned. What was it about this place that kept her forever napping?
She rose from the sofa, padded to the kitchen window and looked outside.
And sighed.
Rafe’s Appaloosa stamped the ground, seeking to divert the man’s attention from the foal Rafe was speaking to in a low, soothing voice.
Lobo sat nearby, ears at attention, regal as he ignored Dulcita nudging at his side.
All of them vying for Rafe’s notice, just as she and her sisters had vied for her father’s.
But Rafe was different. Instead of withholding himself, he made time for each of them, roughhousing Lobo, chivalrous with the elderly Dulcita. Hands gentle on the skittish colt, strong and affectionate with his own mount.
His hands…always his hands drew her. Comforting but firm. Caring and sure. Seductive.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Behind the many guises, what did he want for himself? Since h
e’d lost the life he’d planned, what were his dreams now?
Rafe glanced up as if he’d heard her, eyes piercing the half-opened window between them.
Diana lifted her hand in greeting.
Rafe smiled, and her heart stumbled.
Yes, he was dangerous; she sensed that deep in her soul. Too much about him was a mystery, too much unsettled.
But in a way unlike any man before him, Rafe Sandoval called to her. Made her aware of herself as a woman.
An affair would be good for you. She should run screaming. Should slam the door and turn the locks. An affair was something she didn’t have time for—
Who was she kidding? She had nothing but time.
But—
Instinct stirred. This man was too complex, too compelling. He wouldn’t be ignored, the way she’d always ignored men before when her career beckoned. If she was bold enough to take the lure he cast, she couldn’t be sure he’d be easily set aside when convenient.
A faint smile curved her lips.
No, there was nothing easy about Rafe Sandoval. He exuded power as surely as he breathed. He had his own battles he did not admit, his own wounds not yet healed, but she’d better not take him lightly.
Healer and warrior, troubled by a destiny he had not yet embraced but too principled to turn away from the needs of others, no matter how they burdened him.
If she had a brain in her skull, she’d lock the doors, draw the drapes and stay very, very far away.
But he fascinated her, and Diana had always liked a puzzle.
She drew herself a glass of water and drank deeply, giving herself time for reason to win.
Then, more like the woman she’d always been, she set the glass down and walked to the door.
When she disappeared from the kitchen window without acknowledging him, Rafe understood that he should be glad.
He was glad, damn it. She was brittle and thin and a basket case. She complicated too much, just when he’d begun to find peace.
He stroked the foal from head to tail again and again, letting the little guy play and shiver, his dam watching from a few feet away, cropping grass as if Rafe didn’t have his hands all over her baby.
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