Safe in His Hands

by Amy Ruttan

  He rubbed his hands together, fast. Even though he had been wearing thick mittens, which the man at the wilderness store had assured him would keep out the cold, the bitter temperature of the top of the world still clung to his skin, sending its frosty tendrils deep into his body. His hands ached and he couldn’t get the feeling back into them, no matter how hard he rubbed.

  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he had the sense that someone was staring at him. Quinn craned his neck and caught Anernerk’s gaze. She was watching him, a strange look on her face. His face heated and he slid his hands into his pockets.

  “Anernerk, how are you feeling today?” Charlotte asked.

  Anernerk snorted. “How do you think I feel, Doc Charley? Cranky. I’m cranky today.”

  George, who Quinn had lost sight of, came in through another door on the far side of the room with a load of firewood in his arms.

  “She’s always cranky, Doc. You should know that by now.”

  Charlotte smiled patiently as she rolled up the woman’s sleeve and pulled out a blood-pressure monitor. The rip of Velcro echoed in Anernerk’s sparse cabin, but it was then that Quinn glanced at the walls and realized what he was actually looking at.

  “Oh, my God,” he whispered.

  He moved closer to the nearest wall, enraptured by the thick, bold lines and swirl of primeval colors.

  “Pretty cool, eh, Doc Dev?” George said.

  “It’s...it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

  Anernerk chuckled over the top of the steady pumping of the blood-pressure cuff. “I think your friend fancies my art, Charlotte.”

  Quinn spun round. “You’ve done all of this? This is your art?”

  Anernerk nodded slowly, grinning, obviously pleased with his awe. “I was taught by my grandfather. A shaman. Way back when Nunavut was just a lowly outpost on the far reaches of the Northwest Territories and Iqaluit was known as Frobisher Bay.”

  “I’ve seen some of these in The Met.”

  Charlotte grinned. “Yes, Anernerk’s art is world renowned. I told you she was an artist.”

  “Yes, but I had no idea she was this prolific. I can’t believe I’m standing here in front of the originals.”

  “Of course.” Anernerk rubbed her hand as Charlotte removed the cuff. “Not so hard next time, Charlotte. There’s no meat left on these bones.”

  “Hush,” Charlotte chastised gently.

  Quinn found himself drawn immediately to one particular painting, one that featured a man and a woman. The man was harpooning a walrus and the woman was sewing and casting the man evil looks. He felt a bit dizzy and sick staring at it and he didn’t know why.

  “Hold tight, Anernerk. I have to sterilize this,” Quinn heard Charlotte say, and he glanced at her briefly to see her head towards the kitchen, which was tucked off in the corner behind some swing doors.

  Quinn tore his gaze away and came face-to-face with Anernerk. She was staring at him.

  “I see you’re particularly drawn to the depiction of the obstinate man. Do you know the story?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Come sit by the fire, Dr. Devlyn. I have some liniment for your hands.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You may be able to fool other people with your walls, Dr. Devlyn, but you don’t fool me.”

  “I don’t?”

  Anernerk shook her head. “Come, and I’ll tell you all about the obstinate man.”

  Quinn didn’t move and Anernerk rolled her eyes.

  “Dr. Devlyn, I may be older than time itself but I don’t bite...much.” She grinned, displaying her missing teeth. She looked like those typical old witches he used to be terrified of as a child, but there was no malice about Anernerk Kamuk. He nodded and allowed her to lead him to two rockers that sat near the wood stove.

  Quinn sat across from her.

  “I think this tale will hit you personally, Dr. Devlyn. I think you’ll find similarities between your destiny and the destiny of my dear Charlotte.” Anernerk reached down in a big basket, which was overflowing with various yarns and knitting needles. She pulled out a dark innocuous bottle with no label.

  “How do you know about me and Charlotte?” Quinn asked, intrigued.

  Anernerk’s black eyes twinkled. “There are no secrets in Cape Recluse, Dr. Devlyn.”

  “Are you some kind of mind-reader or shaman yourself, Anernerk?”

  She raised a thick gray eyebrow. “Are you crazy? Of course not. Just because I’m Inuk doesn’t mean I can converse with Nanook of the North or anything.” She laughed. “Besides, I talk to Mentlana.”

  “Mentlana is on bed rest. She’s not supposed to leave Cape Recluse. Is she coming out here, Anernerk? I need to know.”

  “No, of course not!” Anernerk chuckled conspiratorially and pulled out a small phone from her trouser pocket. “Shh. Don’t tell. It’ll ruin the whole illusion for George and Charlotte.” She hid the phone back in her pocket. “Besides, I like their visits.”

  Quinn couldn’t help but laugh. “You have a smartphone?”

  “How else do I keep in touch with my agent? The laptop is in my underwear drawer. Ain’t nobody going in there. Now, where was I?”

  “You were going to tell me about the obstinate man and the significance it plays in respect to me and Charlotte.”

  “Give me your hands,” Anernerk ordered.

  Quinn held them out. Her hands were rough but strong. She undid the bottle and poured the thick corn-syrupy-looking liquid into his hand. It instantly warmed as it touched him. Anernerk began to rub his shattered hand vigorously and the aches and pains began to fade as the old woman’s liniment began to work some kind of magic on him. It was better than the exercise regime his physiotherapist forced on him.

  “There once was a very stubborn man. Not unlike yourself, Dr. Devlyn. His wife lost their child, but instead of letting her mourn he made her work for him. As she worked, the Moon Man’s dog came out and attacked this obstinate man for making his wife work before her mourning time was done.

  “The man overcame the dog, killing him. The Moon Man came and fought the obstinate man, but again he was no match for such stubbornness. The obstinate man won. The Moon Man invited him to join him at his home, but told him to take the dark side of the rock and not come around the easier sunny side, or he would lose his heart.”

  “Lose his heart?”

  Anernerk smiled and continued rubbing his hand. “The easiest path is not always the wisest, Dr. Devlyn.”

  “Is that so?” Quinn wanted to change the subject, but he had the feeling he wouldn’t be able to.

  “So the obstinate man came around the sunny side and saw an old woman sitting there, sharpening a blade. He thought he could overcome the old woman. She was weak and feeble, whereas he was strong, but he overestimated his ability and lost consciousness. When he came to, his heart had been torn from him.

  “The Moon Man saved him, returning to him his broken, tattered heart. It was then that the stubborn man saw the evil, dark thoughts coming from his wife and what he had done to her, how he had hurt her by forcing her to work before her mourning time was done.”

  Quinn’s throat constricted and he glanced towards the kitchen. He could hear water boiling and in his mind’s eye he could envision Charlotte cleaning the instruments thoroughly. Did she have dark thoughts about him?

  He was pretty certain she did.

  “No. You’re being stubborn, Quinn. Why do I have to give up my life here?”

  “What kind of life is this?”

  “A good life.”

  “We can have a good life in Manhattan.”

  Tears ran down her face and she turned her head away. “No.”

  “How do your hands feel now, Dr
. Devlyn?”

  Quinn shook himself out of his stupor and flexed his hands. They were warm, pliable.

  “Ahem.”

  He looked up to see Charlotte leaning against a post, expressions of confusion and intrigue playing across her face.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Kamuk.”

  He stood up and jammed his hands quickly in his pockets.

  Anernerk chuckled and then whispered under her breath, “Stubborn, Dr. Devlyn. So stubborn.” She looked back at Charlotte. “So, are you ready for your quart of blood, Doc Charlotte?”

  Charlotte tsked and Quinn moved away so Charlotte could do her work. Quinn watched in admiration. She was so sure of herself now, and though he hadn’t seen it at the time, this had been the right path for her.

  The path away from him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHARLOTTE WAS CLEANING up the rest of her instruments and tucking away the specimens from Anernerk. The resident old coot was back in her rocking chair, knitting and telling stories as her needles clicked together. George was sitting beside her, listening to her and laughing.

  Sometimes Charlotte wondered if it was George, the overly concerned grandson, who insisted on these visits out here. Everyone in Cape Recluse loved Anernerk.

  Charlotte smiled as she watched the woman who had raised her for over a decade, warmth flooding her veins as she recalled all the good times she and Anernerk had shared. How Anernerk’s entire family had welcomed her.

  When her father had died she’d had no one. Her father had had no other family except distant cousins. It’d been the same on her mother’s side. Charlotte often wondered if it was why her parents had been drawn to each other. Her parents had both been orphans.

  As their daughter had become.

  The only difference was that Charlotte had had people to love and take care of her. Her parents hadn’t had someone like Anernerk to take them in.

  She felt blessed.

  Anernerk was as healthy as could be for someone over a century old. There was nothing to worry about in regard to the old woman’s physical well-being. Charlotte was more worried about what she’d seen between Anernerk and Quinn. Anernerk had a way with people. She could win them over, charm them, and they ate up everything she said.

  Even Quinn, who had never believed in all these old hokey remedies and anything even mildly spiritual in nature, especially when it came to medicine, had been mesmerized.

  Charlotte had watched Anernerk rub his hands and she had also seen how quickly Quinn had hidden them and brushed off Anernerk when he’d realized she was standing there.

  Why was he hiding it from her? What had happened to him?

  It wasn’t rocket science for Charlotte to figure out in ten seconds that he’d been injured, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. Still, she needed to have a frank talk with him about the surgery.

  Mentlana was not going to be used as a guinea pig to see if Quinn Devlyn’s masterful surgical skills were still intact. There was a reason people donated their bodies to science.

  Hell, there were dummies now that could be used to mimic surgery. He could practice on one of them, but not Mentlana.

  Charlotte snapped her bag shut and wandered over to him. He was still standing in front of Anernerk’s paintings. Staring at them in awe.

  “I didn’t think you were so interested in Inuktitut art, Quinn.”

  “I wasn’t until I saw an auction at Christie’s in Manhattan about four years ago. It was to raise money for a charity and Anernerk Kamuk’s art was prominently featured. I didn’t recognize the name when you said it. They raised over a million dollars that night and Anernerk’s lithograph of Kagssagussuk accounted for a quarter of that million.”

  “Ah, so you became interested in it because of its worth.”

  Quinn looked at her, his gaze so intent it sent a shiver of delight down her back. He leaned in closer and she closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his hot breath against her neck. “It was a beautiful piece. I was ignorant and had no idea.”

  Charlotte shrugged. “I’m impressed. But you don’t know the stories related to them.”

  Quinn chuckled and moved away. “No, those I didn’t know. That information is not readily available in Manhattan and I didn’t have the time to really go searching. My practice was flourishing by then.” His self-satisfied grin made her grind her teeth just a little.

  She spun round. “Well, George, I think we’ve outstayed our welcome.”

  “You going?” Anernerk put down her knitting. “You just got here.”

  Charlotte grinned at her elderly patient. “Anernerk, we got here three hours ago.”

  Anernerk stood up. “I’ll make you something to eat.” She turned round and fixed her impenetrable gaze on Quinn. “How about muktuk, Dr. Devlyn? I can make you a nice meal of muktuk.”

  Quinn’s eyes widened and he looked at Charlotte. Even though she was tempted to let him eat some blubber, which was what muktuk was, she wasn’t that heartless. Charlotte shook her head subtly.

  “Ah, thank you, Mrs. Kamuk, but I think just this time I am going to forgo your delicacy of muktuk,” Quinn replied with grace.

  Anernerk’s eyes narrowed as she stared at Charlotte, then she crossed her arms and snorted. “All right. But at least it puts meat on your bones. Dr. Devlyn is too skinny for my liking.”

  “Hah!” George chuckled, jamming on his cap. “Meat on your bones, eh, Aanak? Hasn’t seemed to do you any good.”

  Anernerk directed her wrath at George by slapping him across the back of the head.

  “I thought her name was Anernerk?” Quinn whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  “Aanak is the Inuk word for grandmother,” Charlotte explained.

  “Ah.” Quinn nodded.

  Charlotte stifled another laugh and Quinn looked a bit awestruck by it all. Then again, he didn’t really have much interaction with others. Even when they had been together she wasn’t absolutely sure if Quinn had had any real friends.

  When they had been in medical school and interning, his whole life had been the hospital, and she’d never met his family. In fact, for a long time she hadn’t thought he had any family as he rarely mentioned them. Then one day, after they had settled in Yellowknife, he’d shown up with two air tickets for Toronto. She had been going to fly out to Toronto to meet his mother and father, but two weeks before the flight she’d miscarried.

  His father died. Was his mother still alive?

  It made her pity him. She had lost the only parent she had known before she’d gone into med school, but she’d had the Tikiviks, she’d had Mentlana, she’d had a home.

  Cape Recluse.

  She had lived here for ten years before med school. It was why she’d wanted to become a physician and work in the northern communities. If her father had had access to a physician, he might not have died from the aneurysm that had claimed his life.

  “Sorry, Aanak,” George grumbled, rubbing the back of his head where Anernerk had cuffed him. He bent down and laid a kiss on Anernerk’s cheek. Although Anernerk still looked a bit put out, Charlotte could tell she was mollified by George’s apology. George snuck out the front door into the cold.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kamuk.”

  “And you, Dr. Devlyn. I do hope I get to see you again before you leave us.”

  Quinn grinned and followed George outside. Anernerk turned her focused black gaze on Charlotte.

  “I’ll come out and see you again soon, Anernerk.” Charlotte embraced the old woman.

  “Find it somewhere in your heart to forgive him, Charlotte.” Anernerk tucked Charlotte’s red curls behind her ear. “He’s a good man, just obstinate.”

  Charlotte’s throat tightened and she fought back the tears that threatened to spill. “I’ll see
you in a couple of weeks.”

  Anernerk nodded. “You take my advice.” She held out a bottle. Charlotte looked at the brown bottle in confusion. “Give it to Dr. Devlyn. He needs it. It will help him heal on the outside, anyway.”

  Charlotte nodded and stuffed the bottle in her pocket. “See you later.”

  Anernerk nodded, her eyes glistening as she hugged Charlotte tightly again.

  George and Quinn were waiting for her, George on his snowmobile and Quinn shuffling back and forth in the cold, waiting for her.

  She made sure her backpack was secure and climbed onto her snowmobile.

  Anernerk poked her head out the door. “Next time you come I’m making Dr. Devlyn a nice big meal of muktuk, and there will be no refusal.”

  Quinn waved and Anernerk shut the door. “What the hell is muktuk?”

  “Blubber,” Charlotte replied, as she slid on her goggles. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Quinn’s eyes widen.

  “You’re joking...right?”

  Charlotte chuckled. “Nope.”

  “Good God!” Quinn made a choking sound, like he was going to retch.

  George, sitting on the snowmobile beside them, grinned. “Aw, c’mon, Dr. Dev. It’s not as bad as some of that stuff you hoity-toity physicians eat down there in Manhattan.”

  “Like what?” Quinn asked.

  “Foie gras, caviar, tentacles.” George made a wiggly motion with his hand and stuck out his tongue. “Gross.”

  Quinn laughed. “I’ll have you know—”

  “Enough!” Charlotte interrupted. “If you two have forgotten, it’s below freezing out here. You can talk about strange gastronomical treats at the clinic, in the warmth. Right now, I’d really like to head back to Cape Recluse before the lab samples freeze.” She turned and glared at George. “And if they do freeze, guess who’s coming back to take them again?”

  “Right you are, Doc Charley.” George revved his snowmobile. “Let’s go.” He shot off west back towards town and Charlotte followed, trying to ignore Quinn’s arms around her, his body pressed against her as she raced to get back to the warmth of her home and clinic.