He shifted in his seat, angling toward Ellie. “Spa services out in the middle of nowhere?”
Interesting. That had gotten his attention.
“Guests expect certain amenities at places like the Bar V5.” She turned onto the road that led to the medical center and the Marietta Hospital across the street. “You can get facials, wraps, waxing, mineral soaking pool, and massages. People drive out to have Siena, our massage therapist, work on them. She’s that good.”
“Or she’s the only one around.”
“She’s not.” Ellie should have left it at that, but maybe Josiah was up for a challenge. “Feel free to confirm her skills yourself.”
“Would that be considered a double-dog dare?”
She kept herself from glancing his way. “If you want it to be.”
“Make me an appointment for next week.” Confidence filled his voice along with a hint of amusement. “I’m up for the challenge.”
“I’ll do that.” Ellie had the first item on his list. He would want more massages once he had a taste of Siena’s magic fingers. “Ask your doctor and physical therapist if any of the other treatments will be good for your recovery.”
“I will.” His gaze met hers, and then she refocused on the road. “I’m here to recover, but working an eighty-hour week is easier than lounging around doing nothing.”
He had to be exaggerating, but she had no time to call him on his hyperbole. The medical center was up ahead. “We’re almost there.”
Josiah leaned his head back. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been back in Marietta, other than passing through yesterday.”
“Eleven years.”
He straightened. “How did you remember that?”
“Buck would have graduated with you.”
If he hadn’t died.
The words were left unspoken, but implied. She ignored the familiar pang in her heart. From the corner of her eye, Ellie saw Josiah looking at her.
He stretched out his legs. “Has the town changed a lot?”
“New businesses come and go on Main Street. The Graff Hotel was renovated and reopened. A couple strip malls were built. More housing, too.” She tried to think of other things. Eleven years was a long time to be away. “But some things never change. The Marietta Stroll is this Saturday. The Copper Mountain Rodeo is still a big deal each September.”
“The rodeo.” He said the two words with a hint of nostalgia. “I haven’t been to a rodeo since I left town.”
“Still rope?”
He half-laughed. “Not unless you count lassoing the garbage can in my office.”
She tried to picture it. Tried and failed. “You really do that?”
“No, but I’d love to see my employees’ reactions if I did, especially my assistant, Tamara. Ever since she found out I was from Montana, she’s been trying to turn me into a cowboy.”
“You are one.” Ellie remembered him wearing her brother’s old jeans, boots, and shirt. Buck had spent his own money to buy Josiah a new hat when he competed at the rodeo. “Show her your roping trophy, if you still have it.”
“That’s at my parents’ house in San Diego, along with the boots and clothes Buck gave me. The cowboy hat, too.”
A warm feeling settled around her heart. Buck would have been pleased to know Josiah kept those things. “We’ve got plenty of rope in the old, red barn if you want to practice.”
Josiah laughed. “It’s been a long time since I did that.”
“Do you remember how?” she asked.
“No, but I recall Buck saying something about it being like riding a bike. You never forget, but you may be a little rusty.”
“Don’t forget the training wheels.” She drove into the medical center’s parking lot. “I’m volunteering at the hospital this afternoon, but I have time to walk you to your first appointment.”
“Are you going to hold my hand as we go up the stairs?” He sounded pissed off like yesterday.
“If you want me to, I will.” She struggled to find the cheery voice she’d used then. All she wanted to do was help him, but he didn’t seem to get that. Still, she would keep trying. “We aim to please at the Bar V5.”
A couple male guests had taken the ranch’s motto the wrong way. Would Josiah? She wouldn’t mind that much if he did.
Scratch that. She would mind. No getting involved with guests.
His lips thinned. “I can find where I’m supposed to be on my own.”
“Okay.” Except his face looked a tad green. She doubted the chili and cornbread lunch had anything to do with that. Maybe she should go in with him. “But I don’t mind.”
“I mind.” He pointed to the entrance. “Pull up front.”
Ellie did as told, tried not to take his harsh tone personally. But leaving him alone felt wrong. She didn’t want to go over to the hospital without knowing he would be okay.
An idea popped into her head. She stopped in front of the entrance and handed her cell phone to him. “Take this. The pass code is 9886.”
“Buck’s birthday.”
Ellie nodded. “Any phone number you might need is in my contact list. Call the Bar V5 if you have a problem.”
Josiah stared at the phone as if it were covered in mold.
She understood. He must have the newest model with all the extras. “The phone’s old, but it’ll get the job done.”
His forehead wrinkled. “Don’t you need your phone in case of an emergency?”
That wasn’t the reply she expected. “Not while I volunteer. There are plenty of folks at the hospital who can help in an emergency. Do me a favor and take it. I’ll worry about you if you don’t.”
Her stomach dropped. She couldn’t believe she’d said the words aloud.
A grin spread across his face, erasing the tension she’d seen moments before. “Worry about me? You take your job seriously.”
“Yes, I do.” She forced the words from her thick throat. “Nate mentioned you weren’t allowed to bring your phone or other electronics to the ranch, but I don’t feel right leaving you without my phone. Please don’t do anything that’ll get me in trouble.”
Josiah slipped her phone into his pocket. “I won’t do anything stupid. Promise.”
She wanted to believe him, but more promises made to her had been broken than kept.
“See you later?” he asked.
The hope in his voice wrapped around her like a down comforter. The feeling curled her toes. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
He grinned. “There’s always tomorrow.”
Yes, there was. A thrill shot through her. And darn, if she wasn’t looking forward to that.
Inside Room 1 at Dr. Jack Gallagher’s office, Josiah sat on the examining table. Vitals had been taken. Questions asked and answers given. Body parts poked, prodded, and examined.
The doctor was friendly and knowledgeable, but Josiah didn’t trust physicians. He’d been the one who hadn’t had his cut treated right away, but he was healthy and fit. He shouldn’t have nearly died from a flesh wound. “Are we finished?”
“Almost.” Clipboard in hand, Dr. Gallagher sat on a wheeled stool. The doctor was young, maybe late thirties. “Your fatigue and memory loss are normal. You can expect to see improvement at the six month mark.”
“Six months?” Josiah thought a month in Montana would speed up the healing process. “Dr. Roscoe said recovery times vary.”
“They do, but with a serious illness like yours, a full recovery can take up to twelve months, sometimes longer, depending on the patient and other variables.”
Not the news Josiah wanted to hear. He had a hundred events scheduled on his calendar between January second and the end of June. He didn’t have that much time to spend recovering. Whit Tech needed him now.
“Some patients recover sooner, right?” he asked.
“Yes, each patient is different, depending on their diet, fitness level, and DNA.” Dr. Gallagher made a note on the chart. “Are you exerci
sing?”
“Not really. I get tired doing basic things.”
Including unpacking and eating dinner.
He couldn’t imagine feeling this way for months.
Dr. Gallagher twirled his pen. “The physical therapist will give you specific exercises, but I’d like you to take a short walk each day.”
“Walking’s not exercising. I’m a runner.”
“You’ll be running again, but try walking to build up your endurance. If breathing becomes difficult, stop and rest. Don’t walk alone.”
Maybe Ellie could walk with him. The thought of spending time with her brought a smile. “Okay.”
“Your weight is still down, but the great food at the Bar V5 should fix that now that your appetite is returning.” The doctor’s expression turned serious. “The final thing I’d like to discuss is your emotional state.”
Josiah shifted on the table. The paper liner beneath him crinkled. “I’m great.”
“Good to hear, but you’re aware sepsis survivors have experienced psychological side effects.”
“Dr. Roscoe mentioned PTSD and post-ICU syndrome.”
“There isn’t one path to recovery. Sometimes counseling may be useful.” Dr. Gallagher stared at Josiah. “There’s nothing wrong with asking for help if you need it. Emotional support can go a long way.”
“So far so good, Doc.”
“You’ve been through a trauma. Is there someone you’d feel comfortable speaking with if things weren’t so good?”
Ellie. An image of her pretty face appeared. She made him laugh and feel almost normal again, but why had she come to mind first? Nate should have been the one. The fact he hadn’t left Josiah speechless. He nodded.
“I have a referral list of local professionals if you want additional support. I’ll have the nurse give you a copy.”
Josiah wanted nothing to do with that list, but he muttered his thanks.
Dr. Gallagher rested his clipboard on his lap. “I’ll update Dr. Roscoe on your recovery. I’d like to meet with you each week until you return home.”
Damn it. This wasn’t a one and done. “Okay.”
“If you have any questions, call me.” Dr. Gallagher handed him a business card. “My cell number is on there if you need to reach me after hours.”
Josiah placed the card in his wallet. “Personalized service.”
“That’s how we operate in Marietta. I grew up here like you. We take care of our own.”
Josiah had forgotten how different Marietta was. Life was simpler and slower here. People took the time to talk, whether they knew you or not. They cared, not in a superficial “if there’s anything I can do” flippant comment, but a sincere “I’ll help you” manner. “Appreciate it.”
Dr. Gallagher stood. “Set up your appointments on your way out.”
If Josiah didn’t, Nate would. HIPAA rules aside.
Josiah wanted to make sure he remembered correctly. “Next week?”
“Yes.” Dr. Gallagher smiled. “Exercise your mind. Pick up a puzzle book. You can find ones with crosswords, sudoku, word searches, logic problems at grocery stores or the hospital gift shop across the street.”
A few minutes later, Josiah had an appointment card for his next visit, a list of head doctors’ phone numbers, which he planned to recycle the minute he walked out the door, and half an hour to kill until his physical therapy appointment.
Might as well make the most of the free time.
He walked across the street to the Marietta Hospital, the place where he’d been born and the last place he’d seen Buck Smith.
In the hospital gift shop, Josiah purchased five puzzle books. His appointment wasn’t for twenty minutes. He wanted to track down Ellie. He owed her an apology for not being nice in the van. A pretty woman in an elf hat shouldn’t be hard to find.
The number of magazines outnumbered the people in the lobby’s sitting area. The community hospital was small compared to the level one trauma center where he’d stayed, but the cool air, hint of antiseptic scent, and feeling of uncertainty were the same.
An information sign hung over a desk. An elderly woman with curly white hair, a toothpaste-ad smile, and a blue volunteer jacket stood. Her nametag read Gladys. “May I help you?”
“I was looking for a friend. She’s volunteering this afternoon and may be wearing an elf hat. Her name is Ellie.”
“Eleanor Smith?”
“Yes.”
“She practically grew up in this hospital. Always knew she was a special one,” Gladys said. “And what she’s doing for those kids... She’s such an angel.”
Josiah had no idea what the woman was talking about, so he just smiled.
“You must be one of Eleanor’s volunteers.” Gladys shuffled through a stack of papers and pulled out a green sheet. “She’s been trying to recruit more help.”
He read today’s date and two names, both women. The other lines were empty. “Does Eleanor need more volunteers?”
“Always.” Gladys pulled out another piece of paper. “Fill out this form, if you’re interested in helping. Not having enough volunteers hasn’t stopped Eleanor. She’s here every Wednesday to spend time with children and teens that have sick or special needs siblings. But she can always use an extra hand.”
Ellie wasn’t kidding when she said she took care of people. Josiah read the name at the top of the form. “Buck’s Place.”
A lump burned in his throat. He looked at the name again.
“Eleanor named the organization after her late brother.” Gladys sighed. “Sweet boy. God rest his soul.”
Josiah scanned the paper. Typical information was needed—name, address, driver’s license, and date of last tetanus shot. He knew all those things.
“Can I borrow a pen?” He filled out the form, and returned the paper and the pen. “Buck’s Place is a great idea.”
Gladys nodded. “Eleanor knows firsthand what these kids are going through, and the challenges families face when a child is diagnosed with a serious illness or condition.”
Guilt tightened his throat. He’d only thought about Buck. What Ellie and her parents were going through had never entered Josiah’s mind. “Yeah, she would know.”
He glanced at a clock on the wall. He didn’t want to be late for his next appointment, but he wanted to see Ellie. “Do you know where I can find Eleanor?”
Gladys pointed to a door at the far end of the lobby. “In the community room. That’s where they meet each week.”
He walked over and looked inside the small window on the door. Children and teens stood at rectangular tables decorating gingerbread houses. The kids looked like portraits in concentration, though a few put as much candy into their mouths as on the houses.
Two older women, wearing the same blue volunteer jackets as Gladys, were in the room, too. One wore thick glasses, and she kneaded a tube of icing.
Ellie kneeled next to a teenaged boy, who shook his head. She wore a navy blue apron with “Buck’s Place” embroidered in white, the elf hat on her head, and a huge smile on her face.
Beautiful.
Something in his chest shifted. Unexpected warmth flowed through him.
Josiah couldn’t stay, but he would be back. Ellie wanted to help others, including him. Maybe there was a way he could help her.
Chapter Five
Ellie stood in the middle of the community room. The gingerbread houses sat on four tables with their decorators—twelve kids ranging in age from six to seventeen—standing behind them. The individual houses would form a larger North Pole Village that would be entered into the Marietta Stroll’s gingerbread competition.
“Wow.” Icicles made with white frosting dripped from the eaves. Wafer cookies formed chimneys. Cotton candy doubled as smoke. Gumdrops and M&Ms accessorized doors, windows, and roofs. She grinned. “Awesome job.”
The dozen smiling faces, some with candy or icing stains, made Ellie’s heart soar. Even the boys looked pleased. That was saying so
mething.
“Your North Pole Village is going to rock,” she said. “I love your creativity and am so proud of all of you.”
Not every Wednesday gathering went this well, a few had made her cry afterwards, but that never stopped her from planning another and returning the next week. The children who attended Buck’s Place had an ill or special needs sibling and needed time together with others in the same situation. She’d wished for something like this when Buck had gotten sick. Sometimes knowing you weren’t alone helped get a person through the hard times. No matter what their age.
“You deserve a round of applause.” Ellie clapped.
Leslie, a volunteer who also owned Paradise Books, had left a few minutes ago, but Willa was here, and the elderly woman applauded. “The judges are going to be blown away. I am.”
“You did your best. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” Ellie looked at each member of Buck’s Place. She knew their stories and wanted the kids to know she saw them. They weren’t invisible. They mattered. “Whatever scores the judges give, I want you to remember that.”
“Do you think we have a chance to win?” Eight-year-old Savannah’s hope-filled voice tugged on Ellie’s heart.
“Yes,” shouted one boy.
“No way,” said one of the high school kids.
“I think so,” yelled another girl.
“That depends on the judges.” Ellie hoped the judges awarded the entry a ribbon or award of merit. The kids had worked so hard. “The gingerbread competition is one of the most popular events at the Marietta Stroll. But, as my boss says, ‘Go big or go home.’ We went big. You’ve got a shot.”
Savannah rubbed her hands together. “Yay. I’ve never won anything. I had to quit my soccer team when my brother got sick, so I never got a trophy. I really want a trophy.”
Ellie understood. She’d had to stop piano lessons one year and volleyball the next. Her mom hadn’t signed up Ellie for extracurricular activities after that. “You never know what will catch a judge’s eye.”
A Christmas Homecoming (Bar V5 Ranch) Page 5