The Apprentice

by Jana Barkley

  Even her efforts to get information about him from Mary Kate had proven fruitless. Her friend had spoken to her over her cell when she was about to head off to a work-related weekend in Mendocino, an area notorious for zero cell connection. The call had lasted long enough for Mary Kate to find out when Sam was being released and promise to be there. Then the line had gone dead. Fate had conspired to keep her from finding out anything about her hawk—or if he was hers anymore.

  So, Sam drove her energies into getting stronger. As bland as the hospital food was, she ate it. The morning of the second day she had been awake, she started walking without the help of the nursing staff. When one of them saw her moving down the corridor with her portable IV unit, Althea was notified and gave her a sound verbal spanking. But it hadn’t stopped Sam, and she continued to walk. Trying to hold the backless hospital gown closed while she did so brought smiles to some of the female staff, and a pair of scrubs was produced to preserve Sam’s modesty.

  Even when she had worn herself out walking and was spending time resting in bed, Sam worked at clenching and stretching her muscles.

  After her sixth time around the nurses’ station, she started to perspire, and Althea took it as her cue to steer her back to her room.

  “Well, I’ve never seen the like,” she complained as she followed Sam and shooed her into her room. The other nurses laughed. “Do you mind telling me what you have next on your workout agenda, ma’am?” asked Althea, all attitude with her hands on her hips.

  Sam turned to smile at her. “I need a shower.”

  The nurse beamed. “All right, princess. You wait here and I’ll get you some supplies.”

  “Althea, why on earth do you keep calling me that?”

  The plump nurse turned with confusion. “Calling you what? Oh—you mean princess?”

  Sam nodded.

  “Well, because that’s what you are,” she said, laughing. “A pretty little blonde like you? Why, you’ve got to have guys jumping up left and right to do things for you.”

  Sam gave her a squinty-eyed, evil smirk. “Althea, do you know what I do when I’m not stuck in a hospital bed?”

  “Let’s see,” said the good-natured nurse, playing along. “Get a manicure? Go shopping?”

  “I hunt rabbit with a red-tailed hawk,” said Sam with relish.

  The nurse’s round, happy face went blank.

  “When’s the last time you saw a princess clean a jackrabbit?”

  Althea grew wide-eyed and laughed so hard she almost doubled over. “Well, that’s just not natural for a pretty little thing like you.”

  Sam threw a pillow at her. The older nurse laughed harder and left to find Sam’s shower supplies.

  Well, at least she would be out of there tomorrow.

  The shower was the first moment of pleasure she’d had since she’d been conscious again. Washing her hair and letting the hot water soak into her muscles felt as good as any spa. Sam paused before the small mirror in the shower room with the towel wrapped around her. Her face appeared normal, and she could tell she’d lost some weight, though it wasn’t unattractive. What a way to diet.

  What would Hank see when he saw her—if he ever wanted to again. Memories of the night in his room and the pleasure of his hands exploring her body made her close her eyes in bittersweet longing.

  She took the towel away from her body and stared at the evidence of her sickness. They’d started her chemo again yesterday, and she could still see the small, healing pinprick-size area on her skin where the port-a-cath had been utilized to give her medicines. It always healed by the next administration of drugs, but it was visible to her or anyone who knew what to look for, as he would, now.

  Twisting sideways, she found the small healing wounds on her back where chest tubes had been inserted. The areas no longer hurt, but they were healing with various shades of bruising, making her look as if she had been in a car accident.

  It all would heal, and she would appear normal in no time. But Hank’s silence spoke worlds to her, and she had to assume he was done with her. There would be no more sweet pleasure from his touch, no hopeful dreams to pursue with him. The secret of her sickness was no longer there between them, but the knowledge of the lie, no matter how justifiable her motives had seemed at the time, would always separate them.

  “We’re back to square one,” she said, feeling miserable as she stared at herself in the mirror. Only this time she didn’t have Chance.

  Bells: Small bells worn by the hawk or falcon to alert the falconer to her presence in the field

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The morning sunshine surprised Sam when she woke, and she bolted upright in bed as if she were late to an important appointment.

  “Whoa, girl, where do you think you’re going?”

  Althea’s familiar voice brought reality back. Sam collapsed back into the pillows and took a deep breath.

  “Dr. Franco’s coming in to do your discharge in an hour, so I suggest you eat your breakfast, now.”

  Sam watched the nurse who’d gone way beyond the call of duty to help her get better. “Althea,” she said, “I’m sorry about how I was yesterday.”

  The older nurse beamed. “It’s all right, baby.” She laughed in her full-chested way. “I called you princess out of habit. That’s what I call my grandbaby.”

  Sam felt awful, but the plump face was all smiles, telling her it was fine.

  Dr. Franco’s visit was perfunctory, though he still smiled happily when he saw her. He was obviously a very busy man. His prognosis was good, and he left her with the impression he was pleased.

  Sam dressed and packed her few belongings into a plastic sack given to her by the hospital. Pulling on the jeans and boots she’d been wearing when they’d brought her there, she noticed the gritty residue of beach sand, and a small blood stain on the seat of the pants. Her mind flew back to Gally’s duck and Hank holding her in his arms, and her heart clenched. Her shirt was gone, probably destroyed while they had worked on her. The scrub shirt she had worn for her walks around the floor would do fine.

  Dressed, face washed and hair brushed back into her usual functional ponytail, Sam sat on the edge of her bed and settled in to wait.

  Jason had spent the past few days with her, sharing about his new job. He was doing well and excited about what lay ahead of him. She knew he had come to terms with her desire to be a falconer and no longer looked at her as having lost her mind. Now that she was out of the woods and getting stronger, she sent him home, insisting she would be fine. He left with the promise of returning in a few weeks to stay with her for a long visit after a major project at work was done. She had spent enough time in the corporate world to understand the importance of a young and upcoming businessman working around the clock to establish himself with the firm. It could make or break his career. He didn’t need to babysit his recovering mother, and she wouldn’t let him.

  With Jason back in Chicago, all she had left were her falconry friends. She feared what lay ahead with this new family. Mary Kate would always be there, and she loved her for it. But without a hawk, Sam was no longer a falconer, which meant she was no longer one of them.

  Althea bustled into the room with her bounding energy and stopped short. “Now, that’s not a happy face. I thought you were jumping to get out of here.”

  The nurse walked up and put her hands in her pockets.

  “You’ll be fine, girl,” she said with affection. “You’re the kind that always is.”

  Sam gave her a sad, appreciative smile.

  “Oh, heavens,” Althea said. “I forgot to give you something.” She turned and rushed out of the room. When she returned, she was wearing a Cheshire grin and had a hand behind her back.

  Sam’s curiosity got the better of her unhappiness, and she sat up taller.

  “What are you up to?”

  “Your friend was by late last night and left you something. Here,” she said, producing a long, barred feather.

&nb
sp; At first, Sam didn’t understand what she was seeing. Reaching out with a tentative hand, she took what was the deck feather of a juvenile red tail hawk and brought it closer to her face. She drank in its scent and held it close. Tears formed. It had the smell of green grass and wild, dry oats from the foothills, with the hint of something smoky, like a campfire that had burnt out long ago. It was his scent. Chance.

  “He’s molting,” she said with a tearful, joyous smile, making Althea shake her head in wonder.

  “Now, that’s the happiest I’ve seen you since you woke up. He said that would cheer you up a bit.”

  “He?” Sam’s heart gave an involuntary flip.

  “Well, don’t you know, girl?” laughed the nurse. “Oh, we all call him your ‘boyfriend’ to have fun with him, but there’s nothing boyish about that man.” She winked at Sam. “You got yourself a looker there, princess.”

  She grabbed Althea’s hand. “So he came here…last night?” Leave it to Hank to be there but not come into the room.

  “Sweat pea, he’s been here every night since they put you on my floor. But you were so tired from all your walking he didn’t want to wake you up when you were sleeping.”

  Sam jumped up and threw her arms around Althea’s neck and kissed her plump cheek. The nurse laughed in surprise and patted her back, as she would have done with her own child.

  “There, there.” She smiled. “But you take it easy on those poor old jackrabbits.”

  Sam’s face broke out in a wide grin. “Not on your life.”

  “There you are,” said a familiar Irish voice, and a familiar pair of arms found their way around Sam, hugging her tight.

  “Oh, Mary Kate,” Sam said, “He was here. He’s been here all along.”

  “Okay, darlin’. I’m here to drive you out there. Your car’s still there, you know.”

  “I’ve got to see him,” continued Sam, whirling around the room to grab her belongings. She would have taken off out the door but for Althea’s admonition she would leave the hospital in a wheelchair like any other patient.

  “You look good, Sam,” Mary Kate observed as they drove out to the coast highway. “We were so worried about losing you.” Sam heard a catch in her friend’s throat.

  She reached over and placed a hand on her arm. “Forgive me for mixing you up in this.”

  “What? And not let me have a chance to be your friend?” Mary Kate snorted in indignation. “When are you going to get it, girl, that we’re your friends whether you’re sick or not?”

  Sam felt the cloud of fear threaten her spirits again. “What if I’m not a falconer, anymore? How long will I be able to be a part of this group? And what about Hank’s feelings?”

  “You not a falconer?” Mary Kate was incredulous. “You don’t get to have a choice about that,” she laughed in her usual heartwarming way Sam adored. “None of us chose to be falconers. We’re born with it. You can try to learn it and do it, but if you haven’t got that special something…” She smiled, searching for words. “Call it borderline obsessive compulsive disorder, or a simple neurosis, if you like…but if you don’t have that quality about you that makes you hunger for this above anything else, then you just don’t have it.”

  She turned to grin at Sam. “You, girl, have always had it.”

  Sam dared to broach the subject she was anxious about.

  “Have you talked to Hank?”

  Mary Kate shook her head. “Damned sourpuss wouldn’t return my phone calls.”

  Sam frowned. This wasn’t good. Even so, he had come to visit her every night—when she was sleeping.

  “I can understand him being angry with me, but he isn’t angry with you, is he?”

  Mary Kate shrugged. “I don’t think so. But there’s something strange going on.” She gave a deep sigh. “I hope to goodness you’ll call and tell me when you find out. He’s never been a great one for information, so please do this tired old friend of yours a favor and call me tonight? Keep me filled in?”

  Sam smiled. “Of course.”

  They were there. Mary Kate pulled off the highway onto the drive, and Sam made her stop before they could pull into the yard.

  “I understand,” she said, handing Sam her car keys. “It’s where you left it. But whether or not your hawk is there, I don’t know.”

  Sam reached over and hugged the little woman with all her heart, tears brimming in her eyes. “I love you, Mary Kate.”

  “Love you, too.” Her voice was hoarse. Sam got out of the van and watched her friend wave and then turn and pull back out onto the highway.

  Sam was glad of the secluded walk. The wild fennel stood higher than her head in places. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say. It would all depend on how he was with her—if he was even there at all. If he wasn’t, all she could do was search for Chance. But taking him before she’d had an opportunity to speak with Hank was not something she felt right about doing. She’d have to wait.

  A repetitive banging noise crept in around her worried thoughts. She stopped and listened. There it was again, a measured beating sound starting and stopping every few seconds. Then she realized what it was. A hammer.

  Curiosity pulled her forward until she was standing in the yard. A wooden framework was being erected, showing Hank was adding what appeared to be another chamber onto the mews. The pounding started again, and she searched for movement.

  He was on a ladder, his shirt off in the warm afternoon sunshine, pounding nails into a stud with one hand while supporting it with his bare shoulder. The task seemed second nature to him. Again, she appreciated his muscled chest and bare arms, and she ached for what she could not have.

  Well, it was time to face the music; her heart began to thud. She walked all the way into the yard and stopped. He had come down off the ladder to survey what he’d done, but he still didn’t see her.

  Hank. It was a silent tug on the chord that had been created to connect them weeks ago. She pulled on it now in her heart to see if it still existed.

  His head came up and around, and his eyes found her. For an eternal moment, he stared at her, his face unreadable. Then, dropping the hammer, he moved forward to a pile of lumber and pulled on his T-shirt. It was agonizing to watch, as if he felt he had to cover up to protect himself on an emotional level, too. But she had been the one responsible for hurting him.

  As he walked over to meet her, she met him with a tentative smile. “Hi.” It was all she could say.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, lots better.” She pointed to where he had been working. “You’ve been busy.”

  A subtle grin spread across his face. He shoved his hands in his pockets, giving her heart a glimpse of the old Hank, the one she had loved to make smile.

  “It’s only temporary,” he said, “but it never hurts to have an extra chamber.”

  They stood about six feet apart, separated by what felt to Sam like a wall of thick, impregnable air.

  It was up to her. When she couldn’t take it any longer, she gulped for air and plunged ahead. “Why didn’t you tell me you were there, at the hospital? I was so worried. I didn’t know what had happened while I was…unconscious.”

  He studied her with guarded eyes. “That’s why I gave Althea the feather.” He looked away, then back at her. “She said you were so down. I could only think you were worried about your bird.”

  Again the vacuum quiet descended between them, and Sam wondered if he was waiting for something from her.

  “But if you were there every night,” said Sam, feeling her way with caution, “why didn’t you come in and let me know?”

  Tears spilled from her eyes, and she swiped them away, embarrassed to be crying. A glance up at his face told her he was struggling with something, too. When he spoke, she was undone by the quiet but simple intensity of his voice.

  “You didn’t trust me.”

  “What?”

  “You told Mary Kate you were afraid of me. Of what I might do with C
hance once I knew. I didn’t think you’d want to see me.”

  For the first time, she realized how she’d let him down, and she wanted so much to reach out and touch him, but she thought better of it.

  “Sam, you’ve got to know I’d no sooner take that hawk away from you than physically hurt you.” There was such blatant tenderness and longing in his voice she had to cover her mouth to stifle the sob threatening to escape.

  “I...I’m sorry. I realize that, now,” she said, when she found enough control to speak.

  “Come on.” Hank reached out and took her by the hand and led her over to the weathering pen at the other side of the mews where she had perched Chance before. His touch was reassuring, but tentative. This was better, but it was still not the possessive Hank who had wanted her as if his life depended on it.

  There, in the middle of the weathering area, sat her beautiful hawk, preening to his heart’s content in the warm spring sun. He’d taken a bath and was working to put every feather back in its place. Sam laughed through her tears and laced her fingers into the cyclone fencing.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said, but he was obsessed with preening and ignored her.

  “He’s too fat to give either of us the time of day, right now,” Hank said with a grin. “Once he dropped the tail feather, I increased his rations so he’d be able to push on through the molt.”

  They stood close to each other without touching, but she could feel the energy radiating from his body. Did he still want her?

  He was thinking. The muscle in his jaw was working and he seemed bent on saying something.

  “I bought a ranch, Sam.”

  Her heart flipped over. It was all she could do to keep her voice steady.

  “The one up north?”

  He nodded, his eyes still glued to Chance.

  Her eyes flooded, and she would have tried for a hasty retreat but his voice stopped her.

  Hank turned to face her, speaking with energy. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, but,” he stopped for a moment, dealing with his own emotions, “I don’t want a casual, just-for-now kind of relationship.”