by Freya Barker
"No, you're not. You're more."
Kim
My voice comes out whispered and for a minute I think he hasn't heard me.
I didn't think there would be anything he could say that would make me understand why he up and left on Friday. I was wrong. Now that he's lifted a veil, there is so much unresolved pain and grief visible, it's a miracle he's able to function the way he has. I'm no stranger to the kind of damage that can be done to a child. With actions just as much as with words. But words can heal too, when weighed carefully and given without reservation. Mal has shown me that. He's used his words as a balm on the wounds left by others. Time and time again. It's my turn.
Finding his eyes with mine, I stroke my fingers over his unshaven jaw until I know I have his complete focus.
"I love all of you, Malachi. Each part, every nuance, the dark, the light, the protective, the vigilant, the tender, the wounded—I love them all. Each separately and all combined. There isn't a part of you I want to hide from or want hidden from me. I love you."
His eyes grow darker above mine and he opens his mouth as if to say something before closing it again, clenching his jaw. He inhales sharply through his nose and then buries his face in the hollow of my neck, his arms banding tightly around me.
And I tighten my hold on him, making the same silent vow without words, the message infinitely stronger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Kim
I'd been dozing off with Mal's body pinning me to the bed when my phone started ringing. Exhaustion must've felled him, because he'd fallen asleep with his head on my chest. Poor guy. When I tried to ignore the insistent ringing, he'd woken up and mumbled for me to get it.
"Might be something important. Could be your sister. Go grab it, I'm gonna wash the kiva off me." With a stroke of his fingertips over my face and a soft press of his lips on mine, he disappeared into the bathroom. I just managed to get to the phone before it stopped ringing.
"I mean it, Kim. I've been giving this a lot of thought while I was stuck in that damn 'safe-house' with my very cranky husband. I don't care what he says. This store is my dream, and with your help, I think we can make it something truly unique."
"I don't want to be the cause of a rift between you, though."
That makes Kerry laugh bitterly. "Honey, trust me, it's got nothing to do with you. It's something I guess has been a bone of contention between us from the start. It just has been driven to the surface in the past few weeks. Greg's never been a fan of me starting my own business. Never quite voiced why, but I get the feeling that it somehow threatens his sense of male superiority. He is a simple, hard-working man, who doesn't understand my passion. He doesn't even read, for God's sake. It's frivolous to him. The sad part is, he can't even bring himself to be excited on my behalf. He's never really had much of a reaction to what I've built so far. Not even when the local newspaper did that write up—he just tossed it aside. What he wants is not who I am. It never was, except I'm only just now realizing it. All the years of research I did before I opened the store, he thought of it as a hobby. Never took it seriously. Ever since the store opened he's been increasingly unhappy that it takes my attention away from him."
"I'm so sorry, Kerry. I had no idea it rooted that deep." My heart aches for my friend. I knew her marriage wasn't all bliss, but I hadn't realized how brittle it really is.
"Nothing to be sorry for, sweetie. We'll just have to deal—and we will. In the meantime you get yourself sorted until you feel ready to jump in with me."
I say goodbye to Kerry when I hear the shower turn off upstairs. She'd initially called to offer to take me to the hospital tomorrow. She was happy for me but cautious when I told her Mal had come back. Without going into details, I assured her his reasons for leaving so abruptly were enough for me. She did insist on being in the hospital waiting room with him. There wasn't a thing I could say that would sway her and I have to admit, it makes me feel better to know she'd be there.
"Kim?" Mal's voice travels down the stairs. "Everything okay?"
I get to the bottom of the stairs, look up at him and my stomach does a silly twist. With his hair still loose but washed, and naked but for a towel wrapped around his hips, he looks like a fearless warrior. It only makes me feel more blessed that a man so strong and powerful valued me enough to bare his soul.
"Everything is fine. That was Kerry inquiring about tomorrow, but I told her you'd be taking me."
He slowly starts moving down the stairs and stops on the last step, looking down on me. "I am?" he asks and for a minute I feel unsure. Maybe I assumed too much?
"Well, unless you'd rather not. I didn't mean to presume..."
"I want to," he says gruffly, lifting a hand to wipe a wayward strand of hair out of my face. "Wherever this journey leads, I won't let you take another step alone."
Mal
"That's a new one," Neil's voice sounds from the kitchen door where he stands, hands in his pockets and shivering slightly. "It's usually the kitchen where I seem to have a habit of walking into evidence of my coworkers' primal urges. This time it's the stairs. Maybe I should write this down for posterity?"
Kim takes a few steps back immediately and turns a pretty shade of pink. I pull the towel off my hips, ball it up and toss it at him.
"You're a pain in my ass, boy," I call over my shoulder as I march bare-assed up the stairs to get dressed.
"I'm fucking blind now!" Neil yells dramatically which has Kim burst out in giggles behind me.
Once dressed, I find Kim on the couch, her nose deep in her book, and with a soft kiss on her lips, I wander into the kitchen to find Neil.
"Catch me up. What did I miss?"
He looks up from the laptop on the counter. "Not a hell of a lot. They've got Hartnett en route to a safe house, but they haven't managed to get anything useful out of him. Other than that, there seems to be a tug of war going on between jurisdictions. Everyone wants a go at this guy and since he's got charges pending in different states now, the FBI is taking control. For the moment."
"No chance of getting this resolved any time soon, is there?" I observe and I can tell Neil appreciates my sense of urgency. It's two-fold; I want both clouds of uncertainty removed from looming over our heads. Gomez has made it clear he intends to use Kim's testimony to help tie Hartnett to the murder of her boss, and that has become even more pivotal to the case now that they don't have any other witnesses left, with Winter and his partner dead. And then there's the concern over the outcome of the surgery scheduled for tomorrow. Too many balls in the air, and all are connected. A heavy feeling settles back on my shoulders but this time I'm not running away from it. I'm standing firm.
"She'll be okay," Neil offers, making me wonder how he can read me so well.
"Yes she will, but get the fuck out of my head, boy. You're freaking me out."
With a chuckle, he turns back to his screen and leaves me to pour myself a coffee.
-
"Is this another recipe from your amá sáni?"
Kim walks up behind me and leans around, her hand on the middle of my back and her nose over the pan.
"Sort of. It's just a beef stew, but she used to make it with deer meat. Venison."
"Smells good. What's in this?"
"Cubed beef, carrots, onions, a few bay leaves and black pepper. Oh, and some wine."
"That's what I smell, the wine and the bay leaves." She turns and smiles at me, lifting her face for a kiss. "Makes me hungry."
I chuckle at her suggestive words. "It does, does it? Too bad Neil is in the other room and I can guarantee he won't be leaving on an empty stomach. For all his size, the guy is one big hollow leg." I lay the spoon on the counter and wrap my arms around her. "But once he's fed and I close the door behind him, I plan to feast on you."
"Incoming," Neil walks into the kitchen, sniffing the air. "When's dinner?"
Kim and I look at each other and burst out laughing. It feels fucking great.
Nei
l takes kitchen duty after almost clearing out the pans, and Kim and I are just sitting back on the couch, watching the news for the first time in what seems like forever, when the doorbell rings.
"They wouldn't let me bring booze!" I hear Arlene's near bellow from the front door, when Kim gets up to answer.
"Not a good idea to thin the blood of someone who is going under the knife tomorrow, you twit," Emma points out and the banter between those two makes me smile as it always does. Goes a long way to soothe the irritation of seeing my plans for the evening evaporate with their arrival. When I turn in my seat, I find three angry pairs of eyes staring at me.
"Decided to come back, did ya?" Of course Arlene is the first one to attack. “Your girl gets bad news and your solution is to slink off to wherever you went and let her face that shit alone? Never expected that of you, Mal."
"Arlene!" Emma tries to shush her but doesn't take her accusing eyes off me.
I'm about to respond, because she's right. The two of them plus Naomi have cause to be angry at me, but Kim doesn't give me a chance. She walks over to stand in front of me and turns to the three women. "You've been amazing friends, better than I've ever known and I'm so grateful for that—but—you have no right to come barging in and go on the attack when you don't have a clue what you're talking about."
"But, honey, he left you..."Arlene persists.
"I saw you this morning, you were barely hanging on," Naomi points out. But Emma's eyes go from me to Kim and back, and the faintest ghost of a smile tilts her lips.
"She's right."
"He had good reason and that's all you need to know. He explained to me and that was good enough," Kim says firmly with her hands fisted at her side fierce in her protection of me.
I stand up and slip my arms around her waist from behind. "Down, tiger," I mumble for her ears only, but in current company that's an impossible feat. They all heard, but I ignore them. "They're just looking out for you and that's not a bad thing."
Kim turns in my arms, looking up at me confused. "But it's—"
"Shhh." I put my finger on her lips before turning to the group assembled.
"Did I miss the cat fight? Dammit, I was just putting the last of the dishes away when I heard the commotion." Neil walks into the room, having obviously heard the raised voices, and looks at all the players in this impromptu stand off.
"Neil!" Emma, who at times was more of a mother to Neil than anything else, scolds him.
"What?" he feigns innocence. "I'm a great purveyor of mud wrestling, but I'll never turn away from a good cat fight."
I bury my face in Kim's hair to stifle my laughter. The kid really is a nut, although I've come to know him enough to realize he's spouting idiocy just to diffuse the tense situation. He's so much smarter than the young pup demeanor he puts on.
"I really wish I'd brought that bottle," Arlene pouts. "Could've used a drink just about now."
Emma snorts and Kim giggles. Naomi stays silent and just observes the woman in my arms before lifting her eyes to mine and giving me a single nod. As much as it conveys her acceptance, it also holds a threat that I better not fuck it up. I nod back, letting her know I got the message. Loud and clear.
"Where's Katie? Or Beth? I would've thought you'd bring the entire wild bunch for a smack down," I say, trying to lighten the lingering mood.
"Beth and Clint are in Durango for the weekend visiting with Clint's brother who just bought a house, and Katie is looking after Max for them," Emma says fiddling with the handle of her cane.
"My brother couldn't look after the boys for a few hours?"
"Uh, Katie actually didn't want to come. She said she trusts you," Arlene admits grudgingly and that sets Emma off again.
"You never told me that. You said you weren't able to get through to her," she accuses Arlene.
"Yeah well, I didn't lie. I wasn't able to 'get through' to her," Arlene answers, her finger quotes rather dramatic.
"Enough. Please tell me there's booze in this house. I'm sorry, Kim," Naomi says apologetically, "but I need the numbing buzz of alcohol to block out these two."
"Hey!" The two women in question exclaim simultaneously.
Crazy, overprotective, impulsive but oh so loving bunch of nuts. I look down at Kim's smiling face and in that moment, I feel like the luckiest bastard in the world. Not at all deserving, but fuck if I'm gonna throw back this gift of ultimate trust she’s given me.
However long I can have it for.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
"A rocky vineyard does not need a prayer, but a pick axe."
~ Navajo
Kim
"Hey Kim, how are you feeling?"
I don't know the nurse whose face is leaning over me. She's not the same one I saw when I closed my eyes.
I try to answer, but there's no sound when I open my mouth, just a sharp burning in my throat. My mouth snaps shut.
"Don't try to talk," she says and my first thought is Then you shouldn't have asked me a question to start with. My second thought is I want Mal, but when I mouth his name she doesn't have a clue.
I must've dozed off again because the next thing I know, the surgeon is beside my bed. Dr. Mitcham starts talking but I hold up my hand to stop him mid-sentence. I really need Mal here for support. Again I try to speak, with much the same result. Finally the nurse clues in and hands me a piece of paper and a pen. Please get Mal FIRST. I write out.
"Is Mal the tall dark gentleman with the ponytail?" she asks and I nod.“I'll go grab him. He's been pacing a hole in the floor and I almost had to call security on him when I told him only family was allowed in recovery.” She looks my way and smiles weakly. "Anyway... I'll just be a minute."
Thank goodness Dr. Mitcham takes that time to check the IV drip on the side of the bed. Not a minute later, the door slams open and Mal is at my side in two strides, grabbing my hand in one of his and wiping tears I didn't realize were running down my face away.
"Hush baby, I'm right here," he mumbles as he leans down to brush his lips lightly over mine.
"Right." The surgeon draws our attention. "Surgery went as expected. The tumor was lodged against your thyroid making it impossible to remove without sacrificing the entire gland. We were able to confirm the presence of abnormal cells in the first sample we took and decided not to muck about and took your thyroid gland entirely."
Mal's hand holding mine is gripping me tight, but I welcome the mild pain, needing to feel something.
"So it's cancer?" Mal asks the question I can't ask.
"PTL or primary thyroid lymphoma, yes. You were lucky, we caught it early. This would've likely gone undetected for a while yet if Dr. Waters hadn't been so thorough. We removed generously, to make sure we got it all in one go, but it's likely you'll need follow-up treatment to make sure it hasn't spread. We're not taking any chances. What you should know is that PTL is very treatable. Usually a combination treatment but your oncologist will go over your options with you. You will need to start on hormone replacement therapy right away. I will let Dr. Waters know the outcome of the surgery and about the dosages we’ll start you out on. Best of luck to you."
And with a handshake for each of us, he's gone, leaving us in a shocked silence that neither of us seems willing to break. Instead, Mal squeezes himself on the bed, careful not to bump any of the wires still attached to me and pulls me in his arms.
We're still wrapped around each other when a while later the door opens and Naomi walks in.
"Hey," Mal's voice rumbles in his chest.
"I hear we've got some cancer ass to kick?"
I try smiling at her but it's a pathetic attempt, I can tell when she winces.
"You don't get to talk yet, just listen," she says pointing a finger at me. "Mitcham tells me he's pretty sure he got it all. He took out the entire thyroid and some lymph nodes, all of which have been sent to pathology. That report will be sent to an oncologist at the Mercy Durango Cancer Center and we'll get you in there within the ne
xt few days. This is going to be fast and furious, folks. Very intense for a relatively short period of time but then you're done. Well, other than that without a thyroid, you'll have to take hormones for the rest of your life, but I'm thinking in the grand scope of things, that's a minor glitch. Let's get this big sucker taken care of first. Deal?"
I nod, smiling a little at the pep talk that makes Naomi sound like a football coach. I'll kick this. My entire life I've known there was something wrong with me. In a perverted kind of way, this almost feels like justification for all the clinic doors I went through hopeful for an answer, and walked out again discouraged and sad. Perhaps I should send each and every one of them copies of the Hashimoto's diagnosis and the pathology report. Assholes.
Mal
"Hey, how is she doing?"
I've just left Kim in a regular room, where she'll get to stay overnight. Naomi is with her, talking to her, trying to calm her down 'cause she's pissed. Angry at the cancer, angry at the army of doctors she'd seen before who never took the time to listen. Her anger is fueling mine and I was already barely hanging on, so I told her I'd go grab a quick coffee. I didn't expect to bump into Caleb in the hallway.
He's leaning against the wall next to a waiting room and the moment I walk up to him, I notice the room is full of familiar faces. Damn. Looks like Cedar Tree closed its doors today. Even Arlene and Seb are both there. Slipping his arm around my shoulders, my brother sidles up to me as I look around the room dumbfounded.
"Tried to keep them away. As you can see that was a complete failure."
I have to swallow hard at the sudden lump in my throat before I move into the room. "Thank you guys," I manage, but barely. "She's...awake. Naomi is with her." I fall silent, not sure how to proceed. Not sure if I can give voice to something I've hated for so long, threatening to take the one woman—hell, the only woman—I've ever let in. Fate wouldn't be so cruel, would she?
"Just spit it out, brother," Caleb says softly behind me, but instead of talking I take a deep breath in and swing my fist full force into the wall by the door. Caleb's arms slip around me from behind, pinning my arms to my side, but he doesn't have to worry. I needed that out of my system. The throbbing pain in my fist gives me momentary distraction until a little voice pipes up.