by Dianne Drake
He paused for a moment and looked away.
“I should have told you all that, and I’m sorry I didn’t, but I’ve never talked about James with anybody but you.”
Sloane did understand and felt truly sorry for his loss. She felt even worse for his family’s need to ignore the loss by not talking more about James. It could have brought them together in a way they’d missed. It could have made them stronger, or closer. That’s what had happened when her mother died. She and her dad had kept Mum included as part of them because she was, in every way. And while the loss had been great, it had always been comforting to know her mother through her father’s eyes. It had made her dad and her stronger and closer.
“You’re lucky to have had him, even if it wasn’t for long. I think he would have been proud of you.”
“I hope so,” he said, taking one more swat at his tears. “Anyway, if you want to catch a sheep, there’s one standing in the middle of the path looking at us. I think he might attack, judging from the way he’s got his head lowered, and how he’s snorting in the dirt. Do they always paw the ground like that when they attack?”
Sloane stood up quickly, but there was nothing ahead. Not a bighorn sheep, not even a tiny little lizard.
“Got ya back for the rattlesnake,” Carter said, laughing, and then took hold of her hand and pulled her along the trail.
Yes, this was the way they used to be, and Sloane was glad to be back there, if only for a little while.
But could it last? On some level, could they get together again? Or would separate ways be their best course?
CHAPTER SIX
THE HIKE OUT to find the bighorn sheep with Sloane had been fun, Carter reflected as he got on with his afternoon surgery. Much in the way things had used to be between them. Spontaneous. Connecting with each other the way they’d used to connect.
The one thing Carter regretted was that they had only had a couple of hours, as he’d been called back to attend a patient with a sprained wrist. But at least they’d found a small herd of sheep, and Sloane had gotten her pictures. He’d enjoyed seeing her happy, even though her happiness didn’t offset the problem that she was such a huge reminder of so many things in his life that had gone bad. He wasn’t blaming her for anything. But simply seeing her...
“Mrs. O’Brien?” he asked the older woman who opened her hotel door to the length of its chain and peeked out. She was staying at Cliff Edge, a charming hotel just a few miles away from Red Rock. It accommodated the less active vacationer, which he guessed would be Mrs. O’Brien since he had distinctly heard the clack of an aluminum walker coming from inside her room.
“Are you the doctor? she asked.
“I certainly am. My name’s Carter. Carter Holmes.”
“Well, Carter Holmes. It’s about time you got here. I called over an hour ago.”
There was no point in telling her he’d been out hiking and had to practically run the two miles to get back as quickly as he had. Or that he was half-way to being dehydrated, and his back was starting to bother him again, not to mention some very out-of-condition legs that were cramping. When people needed a doctor, they needed a doctor, and nothing else mattered. In a way, he liked the unplanned nature of that. In his surgical practice, nothing had been unplanned. Here, almost everything was, and Carter was finding the challenge of not knowing what he’d be doing in an hour invigorating.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Next time I’ll try to be a little more prompt. Anyway, tell me about your wrist. What happened?”
“I hurt it getting in the shower.”
“How long ago?”
“Last night, about this time.”
And she’d waited twenty-four hours to call him, which had ruined the evening plans he’d hoped to have with Sloane. Such was the life of a GP, he supposed. And, something he was going to have to get used to.
“Well, why don’t you go sit in the chair next to the bed, then I’ll take a look.”
“Could it be broken, do you think?”
It wasn’t likely, considering the way she was using it.
“I should know in a few minutes, after I listen to your heart and lungs, and take your blood pressure.”
“All that for a broken wrist?”
“Just being cautious.”
Carter watched her walk to the other side of the room and take her seat. She was remarkably sprightly for someone on a walker, and he wondered if she really needed it. But, that was a decision for her real doctor, not him.
“I don’t have to get undressed?” Mrs O’Brien asked.
“Nope. But if you could let me listen for a minute...”
Which she did. And for someone her age, which he guessed to be near eighty, she seemed in great shape.
“Everything’s normal,” he said, taking a gentle hold of the wrist she held out to him. There was no bruising, no swelling, no outcry of pain when he ranged it. “
“Your wrist seems fine to me,” he said, finally. “So, when does it hurt.”
“It doesn’t, but like you said, I’m just being cautious.”
And lonely, he guessed. Like him, she was probably all alone in the world, and simply craving a little attention, if even from a stranger. Carter understood that. These last months had been lonely for him, as well.
“I think as a precaution, I’ll put an elastic bandage on your wrist, then check back with you every day for a while, to make sure it’s getting better.”
It hadn’t been a necessary medical call, and the bandage wasn’t necessary, either. But a few minutes of time might work wonders for her. It had for Carter, when he finally found The Recovery Project.
“Will I be restricted from any activities?” she asked.
“Just rock climbing and canyon hiking,” he teased. Instantly, her fixed scowl turned into a pleasant smile. “And no motorcycles.”
“I gave those up when I was seventy,” Mrs O’Brien said. “My husband and I used to travel cross country on our bikes. The best trip ever was from Seattle, up the coastal highway to Alaska. It was so beautiful, we stayed there a couple of years.”
What she’d done in her life wasn’t too unlike the plans he and Sloane had made. In a way, he envied Mrs. O’Brien. She had lived a great life despite her hardships.
“Is that why you’re here?” he asked. “Was this someplace you and your husband lived?”
“No, we didn’t live here. But we sure did climb every rock and explored every canyon you could find. I wish I was still up to some of it.”
“Well, give that wrist a couple of days and maybe we can take a short hike together. I’ll see if there are any easy trails around here you could manage.”
Mrs. O’Brien beamed from ear to ear. “I’d like that,” she said.
And this was the real reason Carter was making this house call—to doctor in a way that was different than he ever had. Or had ever even imagined. It would give him a chance to be personable with his patients, something he’d never done much of before, but Sloane had done all the time. Of course, she would see that as progress. But only if he told her, which he wasn’t going to do as he had made the decision he had to start separating from Sloane again. If he didn’t start now, he might never get around to it. He had to do it, though. A baby step. The first of many which were all destined to be difficult if every one of them led away from Sloane. But in order to save her, that had to be his course, painful or not.
* * *
“I’d say he’s good to go.” Carter smiled at the couple in front of him.
Mr. and Mrs. Mallory were on holiday with their son, Kevin, who had cystic fibrosis. Clearly not wanting him to miss out on anything, they’d come to ask Carter’s opinion on whether Kevin could go on a donkey ride through the canyon. And, while Kevin didn’t remind Carter of James, he brought memories of his brother flooding back, holding on strong.
“You’ll have to use caution, of course, and take along the proper equipment, but I’d say Kevin is certainly strong enough to take a donkey ride down into the canyon.”
Something his own brother would have loved doing.
“Can you go with us, Doctor?” Judy Mallory asked.
She was nervous. It showed. And Carter understood that better than most. There’d been too many times when he’d gone off to do something with James—something James hadn’t always been up to. Playing at the playground. Taking long hikes—long in a child’s vision. Going to a friend’s house to play video games.
He’d never truly seen his brother as disabled. Of course he’d been so young back then. But his parents had always been cautious, and Carter had always seen that as them depriving James of a real life.
As a child, it had never occurred to him that their restrictions were protective. But here was a boy, not much older than James when he’d died, and his parents wanted him to experience life. They wanted him to be involved in everything he was able to—including a donkey ride down into one of the canyons.
Carter would go along to ease the Mallorys’ peace of mind for James’ sake. For his brother who’d been restricted from everything.
‘What time would you be leaving?” Carter asked.
“We’re not sure which day the hotel will arrange it for yet, but it will be late in the day, when it’s a little cooler. We’re making special arrangements for it to work into Kevin’s schedule. You know—between breathing treatments, chest physiotherapy...”
“Well, I’ve got my hiking boots sitting by the door in my hotel room, just waiting to go. So, let me know when you’re going after you find out and I’ll be ready. Barring medical emergencies, of course.”
He tousled Kevin’s curly hair. The boy wasn’t frail the way James had been, and he certainly wasn’t plagued by a typical CF cough. As of now his lungs were clear—a condition he’d check again just before their hike. And if ever a smile spoke a thousand words, Kevin’s did.
“So, this is what you want to do?” Carter asked the boy as he packed up his medical bag.
“That’s why we came here,” Kevin said.
“Well, make sure you get plenty of rest, and keep up with your treatments. And if you’re doing as well as you’re doing right now, whenever the hotel sets the schedule, we’re going to have an adventure.”
That was what James had always called their excursions—adventures. Because, for him, anything outside their home was an adventure. It did ache, though, knowing how much James would have enjoyed the adventure Kevin was about to have.
Carter nodded to the Mallory family as he exited the room.
Downstairs, in the lobby, he dropped down onto one of the several plush sofas in the sitting area, trying to steady his breathing. He hadn’t really exerted himself, and nothing about this felt like the anxiety. This wasn’t a panic attack. It had nothing to do with PTSD and everything to do with how crazy bad he still missed his brother. It had been over twenty-six years now, and the pain of it was still acute.
“You OK?” Sloane whispered, sitting down next to him and taking hold of his hand.
“Yes, as far as my PTSD is concerned and no, because I just came from seeing a young boy with CF. It brought back some memories,” Carter said, not sure why she was there, but glad she was. “I didn’t expect to see you.”
“I was just coming back from the spa. I decided to indulge myself a little bit. They have a nice facility here. Maybe you should think about indulging yourself from time to time because you look a little tired. A nice freshen-up might do the trick.”
“Have you ever known me to be the spa type?” he asked, giving her a weak smile. “The massages you gave me were everything I ever needed, but to have a stranger do it?”
He faked a shudder.
“All I’m saying is, you need to take better care of yourself. Something seems off.”
“I’m just struggling with the pace here. Being on call twenty-four seven has got my system out of whack, but eventually I’ll adjust.”
“When was the last time you ate, Carter?” she asked in all seriousness.
“Are you trying to diagnosis something?” he snapped. “Because I don’t need you doctoring me.”
“I’m not trying to doctor you, Carter. I’m just trying to be your friend.”
He gave her a curious look for a moment, then stood.
“Then if you’re a friend who’s concerned about my eating habits, ask me to dinner.”
“Really?”
“Everybody’s got to eat sometime, I suppose.”
“Meaning you haven’t been?”
“Meaning I’m waiting for my invitation.”
And, to be honest, he couldn’t remember his last meal. He hadn’t been particularly hungry these past few days—probably due to a combination of new job, new life and Sloane—and if his belly wasn’t prompting him to fill it up, he didn’t think about food. At least, he hadn’t for a day or so.
“Well then, you pick the place and I’ll pick up the tab. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like you just made yourself a dinner date.”
What if he was getting a little too cozy with Sloane? They did have history. And they both knew that the end of her stay, she’d be leaving while he’d be staying. So, where was the harm in spending a little time together? At the end of it all, Sloane would have the closure she needed, and deserved, and he would simply feel better that he’d done it the proper way this time.
“If you don’t mind going to a roadhouse?”
“As in?”
“Lots of noise, probably some dancing, food coming in second to the atmosphere.”
It wasn’t her kind of place, but it was impersonal, and that’s what they both needed. What they didn’t need was something intimate like they’d always been drawn to in the past.
“Works for me,” she said.
“How about I pick you up around seven?”
“On your bike?”
“Only wheels I’ve got.”
Which meant sitting so close together he’d practically be in between her legs, while her arms were wrapped around his waist. Pleasant thought, but precarious.
“I’ll stop by Matt’s and grab a helmet for you.”
“Then I’ll be waiting,” she said, pushing herself off the sofa.
Before she walked away, she took a long, hard look at him.
“Are you sure you’re good with this? Because I didn’t come here to take up all your time, and it seems that’s what I’m doing. Especially considering that, well—we’re not getting back together.”
Carter stood up as well.
“But we can still be friends, can’t we?”
Famous last words of most break ups. Words that never came true. Would that be the case with them? Would they say their goodbyes this time, make their promises to remain friends, yet never quite get around to it? Carter hoped not, but he wasn’t optimistic. He and Sloane had different lives now. His was just starting while she was well-established in hers, and he didn’t see any situation where they could simply meet in the middle and truly be friends. There was too much water under that very old, very shaky bridge now. And, Sloane needed to be away from him.
“Ah, yes. This is where they make the promise then never fulfill it. Is that who we are now, Carter? Two people going through the right motions but who realize those motions aren’t going in the same direction anymore?”
“I hope not, but...maybe.”
“Well, at least we’re being honest. That’s progress, I suppose.” Sloane pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. “Look, it’s getting late and I still need to return a call to one of my surgical patients back home. Then check in with my dad to let him know I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth. How about I meet you in the
parking lot at six-thirty?”
“Sounds good,” he said, just as his phone started to ring.
It turned out to be Mrs. O’Brien who was worried that he’d wrapped her wrist too tightly, and could he stop by to look at it? After he agreed, and hung up, he smiled at Sloane.
“This is really awkward, isn’t it?”
“A little bit,” she agreed, then walked over and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “See you later.”
Later was going to be so, so tough. But facing up to what he’d been was part of his recovery. And if anybody knew what he’d been, it was Sloane. Yet, she still wanted to go out to dinner with him. It wasn’t enough to make him optimistic, but it also didn’t leave him discouraged as so many of their attempts to be together in the past year had. So, this was good. Yes, very, very good. In fact, it was good enough that if he were a whistling man, he’d leave this hotel, whistling.
* * *
Carter lagged back a few steps as they headed toward the motorcycle. She knew why he did that. He liked watching her walk—she’d known that from the first time she’d met him. They’d been walking down the hospital hall and he’d hung back just a step or two, got himself so wrapped up in what he was watching he totally forgot what they’d been talking about. She’d known what was happening. Had felt flattered then, as she still did now.
“Enjoying the view?” she asked.
“Always have,” he said. “That part of me hasn’t changed.”
Sloane stopped and spun around to face him. Smiling.
“I meant the desert. It’s vibrant this evening, with all its rusts and golds.”
“So did I,” he said, trying to act innocent.
“I’ll bet you did.” Sloane picked up her pace across the parking lot until she reached Carter’s motorcycle. “Well, here we are.”