by Maddy Barone
“Are you alright? You’re quiet.”
Isabel mustered a smile. “Just tired. Starting over is a lot of work. I’m … just tired.”
Inez’s face softened in a sympathetic smile. “Of course, you are. I am too, but I didn’t lose everything like you did. Just take one thing at a time. We’ll get through this. Come on, spending a little time with your fiancé will help.”
Her fiancé. Dusty was her fiancé. That thought did bring a smile to her lips. “Okay.”
Dusty was sitting up in bed, flipping through TV channels with bored impatience. When they came in, he clicked the TV off and tossed the remote aside with such obvious relief that Inez giggled.
“Thank God,” he exclaimed. “I am going crazy in here with nothing to do.”
His voice was still raspy, but not as much as last night. Inez leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek. Dusty looked surprised but delighted. He caught her hand and squeezed it.
“Did Isabel tell you? You are going to be my sister one day soon.”
Inez smiled. “Yes, we are all very happy and excited.” She looked him over thoroughly, a frown puckering her brows. “Are you okay? Those red patches look painful.”
He tried out a cocky grin, winking at Isabel. “You should see the other guy!”
His brash façade was spoiled by a coughing fit. Isabel handed him the water glass on the bedside tray. Inez kept her bright smile up, but Isabel knew her well enough to recognize the worry she hid.
“I’ll leave you two alone. Isa, I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me.”
She closed the door on her way out. Isabel pulled the chair closer to the bed. “How are you today? Really?”
The grin faded to a quiet smile. “Breathing is a little rough. Some of the burns hurt. Other than that, I am fine. I bet they’ll release me this afternoon. How are you?”
How was she? Isabel considered it, silently ticking off signs of her condition. Tired. Lack of interest in things that mattered. Emotional detachment. “I’m experiencing PTSD,” she said, a touch of wonder in her voice.
“You sound pretty happy about that.” He reached to take her hand.
She laughed. “No, just happy that I recognize it. It’s nothing like what I went through when I first came home from Iraq, but I know what to do to manage it. I’m going to be okay.” She squeezed his hand. “We are going to be okay.”
“Oh, yeah, we are,” he agreed. “I want to make plans about our future.”
“Yes,” she agreed. Like where they would live. She struggled to find the right words to ask about his plans to go back to the reservation. “Dusty,” she began.
The door slammed open and Brutus stomped in. “What the hell, Wolfe?”
Dusty smiled at his partner. “Morning, Gunnison.”
“You idiot!” Brutus raged. “Strolling through a burning building! No protective gear! No backup! You—” His voice cracked. “You could have died! What the hell were you thinking?”
Dusty nodded at her. “Could you give us a couple of minutes?”
Brutus spun and gave her his back, but as he turned, she saw his eyes were gleaming with tears. “Sure.”
Inez was speaking quietly on her phone but looked up with a questioning look.
“Brutus and Dusty want some time alone,” she explained.
Inez nodded and went back to her conversation. Left to brood, Isabel sat and flipped through a magazine. She stared unseeingly at the glossy pages. Dusty would stay here in Dallas if she asked. They could visit his family on the reservation every year. Maybe in the spring, when it was already hot here but still cool in South Dakota. The would be the perfect time to visit. Or maybe October. Cool weather after a long hot summer would be even better.
No matter how positively she tried to think, Isabel could still remember the intensity in Dusty’s voice when he spoke about the needs on the reservation that night in the truck driving home from his co-worker’s wedding— last night? Had it been only last night? She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes with a sigh. They would work it out.
“Hey, Isabel.”
She woke up with a jerk and let out a low grunt at the crick in her neck. Raising her hand to massage her neck, she wondered long had she been asleep. Brutus stood at her side, eyes slightly red. “Brutus. Are you okay?”
His smile was a bit crooked. “Yeah. I’ve finished with my — as Dusty terms it — hissy fit.”
She rubbed her hands over her face. “I thought you had a good point. I watched the building burn, knowing he was inside, and I was afraid he wouldn’t ever come out. Not alive.”
The crooked smile flattened. “Yeah.” He drew a deep breath and nodded. “He says I’m overreacting, but I can’t help it. He’s my best friend.”
“You’re a good man, Brutus. You don’t let a lot of people see what a teddy bear you are. Denise is a lucky woman.”
He colored. “No.” His voice was quietly emphatic. “I’m the lucky one. You don’t know what I was like before she came into my life. You wouldn’t have liked me back then.” Flicking a hand as if brushing off a fly, he changed the subject. “Dusty told me he proposed and you accepted. Congratulations. He’s the best man I know.”
“Thank you.” A glance at the clock told her more than an hour had passed. She glanced over at Inez and didn’t see her.
Brutus interpreted her sudden confusion. “Inez took off. She had to go meet with some insurance agent. She told me to let you sleep. Dusty is being released. I’m going to drive both of you over to his place, make sure he’s settled, then take you back to your sister’s. You good with that?”
“Sure.” She got to her feet and accepted her cane from him. “Were you and Dusty friends before you knew Denise?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you couldn’t have been a bad man before you met Denise. Dusty wouldn’t be best friends with someone bad.”
He walked beside her toward Dusty’s room, shaking his head. “Man, the Five Eight won’t be the same without him.”
“Without him? What do you mean?”
By the quick glance her shot her, her tone might have been a bit sharp. “When he moves back to South Dakota. Uh, he did tell you about that, didn’t he?” Brutus hunched his shoulders slightly. “When he took this job here, he made no secret that his plan was to work and save enough money to go home. Didn’t he tell you that before he asked you to marry him?”
“Sort of. I mean, he mentioned it. The proposal was a bit unexpected. He came out of the fire, not even able to stand on his own, and blurted it out.”
“Ah.” Brutus seemed carefully noncommittal. “And you blurted out an acceptance.”
“Yes.”
Brutus stopped in the hallway. “Do you want to marry him?”
“Yes. I love him. We just need to talk. We haven’t really had a chance to discuss anything yet.”
“Right.” Brutus gave her a relieved smile. “It’s all good. No rush. You can take your time, you know? Make plans, and get everything squared away when you’ve had a chance to get some rest.”
Dusty was sitting in the chair in his room, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. They looked like his own, so Brutus or someone must have swung by his place and picked up something for him to wear. “Let’s get out of here.”
Isabel couldn’t agree more. “Yes,” she said with feeling. “I hate hospitals.”
Dusty stood up from the chair. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But we’re lucky to have them so handy. They keep people alive.”
Was that a reference to his sister-in-law’s death? “True,” she murmured.
The nurse came in with some paperwork for Dusty to sign and instructions for his at home self-care. Another nurse pushed in a wheelchair. Dusty eyed it with disfavor. “I don’t need that.”
“Sorry,” said the second nurse perkily. “Hospital policy.”
With Dusty in the wheelchair pushed by the nurse, they went down the hall to the elevator. When they reached the g
round floor, Brutus hurried ahead to get his truck and bring it around. That left Dusty and Isabel waiting in the hospital vestibule with the nurse. The nurse said with unapologetic cheer that she couldn’t leave them until Dusty was safely in the car that would take him home. Isabel fidgeted with her cane. She couldn’t really talk to Dusty with a stranger there.
Dusty had no trouble making small talk. “I got engaged last night,” he confided chattily. “This is my fiancée, Isabel Ybarra.”
The nurse said all the usual congratulations and asked the usual questions about how they had met, and how long they had been dating. Isabel made herself participate in the polite conversation, but was relieved when Brutus’ big truck pulled up.
Brutus got out and tried to help Dusty into his truck. Dusty stopped him with a death glare. “Not helpless over here, Gunnison,” he growled. “I think I can get into the truck on my own.”
Brutus’ face fell almost comically.
“I’m not helpless either,” Isabel said. “But your truck is taller than Dusty’s. Could you give me a lift up?”
Brutus did, with a strong, gentle grasp on her waist. Dusty climbed up beside her and Brutus slid behind the wheel. Dusty waved goodbye to the nurse as they pulled out of the lot.
“So. Wolfe.” Brutus said. “I guess this engagement thing is pretty sudden, huh?”
Isabel slid a sideways glance at Brutus, eyebrows climbing. Dusty chuckled easily. “When I was little, my grandfather told me that when I met the right one, I would know it.” He picked up her hand and held it on his thigh. “He was right.”
“Aw,” said Brutus, pulling out of the lot into traffic. “But you haven’t really had a chance to celebrate yet. Or, you know, talk. Make plans.”
Isabel curled her free hand into fist, not sure if she wanted to punch Brutus or hug him. She cleared her throat delicately. “We do need to talk.”
“We haven’t had a chance,” Dusty agreed, confusion on his face.
“So, you better do that, right?” said Brutus pointedly.
Dusty’s confusion was replaced by a sharp edge of annoyance. “Considering that I’ve been in the hospital since we got engaged, I think we can cut ourselves a little slack in the planning department.”
Isabel patted Brutus’s knee. “Thanks. We’ll figure it out.”
Brutus’s scowl wasn’t only against the glare of the early afternoon sun. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered.
Her stomach growled loudly. A glance at the dash clock told her it was nearly two. Breakfast had been hours ago. Brutus heard it. He glanced over her head at Dusty.
“You got any food in your place, Wolfe?”
Dusty appeared to think for a moment before shaking his head. “Nope.”
Brutus took a sharp turn onto a frontage road that ran along a row of fast food places and a family style restaurant. “I’ll drop you guys off at this restaurant. They got good food. I need to run a couple of errands. I can pick you back up in an hour. Sound good?”
Dusty looked at her and she looked at him, and then they both looked at Brutus.
“Isabel needs to eat. You guys need to talk. Go on, have a nice lunch, and I’ll be back around three.”
A few minutes later, Isabel was seated at a booth in a nearly empty restaurant with Dusty across from her. Dusty gently scratched the bridge of his nose before giving her a smile.
“I don’t know what’s up with Gunnison,” he said apologetically. “Usually, he’s pretty sane.”
Isabel sighed, feeling a little guilty. “I think this is my fault. Are you feeling up to this?”
“Sure, I feel great. How is my partner’s insanity your fault?”
The waitress interrupted them to take their order. Isabel ordered a sandwich and fries without really looking at the menu. After the woman left, Isabel kept her attention on her water glass, not quite willing to look at Dusty yet. Idiot! She said to herself. Brutus was heavy-handed in his role of deus ex machina, but he meant well. She shouldn’t waste this opportunity to clarify the future with Dusty. She looked up with a shrug and a smile, trying to look casual.
“He seems to think that we need to make all our plans for the future right now.”
Dusty nodded. “He’s right. We have a lot to plan. Like when the wedding should be, where, what kind of reception you’d like, where should we go on our honeymoon …”
When he ran out of breath, she added quietly, “And where we will live.”
“Yeah, that too. My place is a bit small, and kind of a dump, but my lease is up in November. We can get a larger place, maybe close to wherever you and Inez decide to re-open your store.”
A tiny spark of hope flickered to life in her heart. “That would be really great. If we could find a house or apartment near to the store, that would be so much easier for me. Inez and I need to talk to Eduardo about what options we have for the store. We’re thinking of staying in the same general area. The place you have now is about as far away as we can get.”
“Yeah, I know.” He grinned. “And it really is a dump. But it was a great price, and I’ve been concentrating on saving as much money as possible so I could open my ambulance service when I —we — go home.”
The spark died. “We need to talk about that, Dusty.” She swallowed and looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to move to South Dakota. I love Dallas. This is home. All my family is here.”
His smiled faded. “For years, I’ve dreamed of going home. I’ve worked to make that a reality.”
“But now we have to make decisions like that together.”
“I want to go home, to live on the reservation. I’d need my wife to come with me. Life can be hard there. I told you that, right?” His dark eyes were serious. “Three out of five people you meet on the Res have problems with alcohol. Gangs are moving in, getting hold of the kids. People live packed into houses. I mean, one three-bedroom house has twenty people living in it, and the house is probably about to fall in. Unemployment is the norm. The villagers we met in Iraq lived like kings compared to my people.”
She stared at him, horrified. The picture he painted was grim. Why would he want to go back to that? “Would you expect us to live in a house with a lot of other people?” she asked, proud that her voice was steady. “Your parents’ house?”
“No. I have a parcel of land we could build on. Nothing big or fancy, but it would be for us. And any kids we have.”
Kids. That jolted her. She was already in her thirties. If she wanted to have a family —and she did, very much, want to have children. Dusty’s children—she couldn’t put it off too much longer.
“Normally,” he went on in a casual voice, “we would move in with my folks, but they already have my sister and her kids with them, plus my middle brother and his kids.”
“That sounds crowded. What about your brother’s wife? Does she live there? Or are they divorced?”
“She’s dead.” There was a new, flat note in his voice. “That’s why I want to open an ambulance service on the Res. My brother lost her eight years ago. She got an infection and didn’t get the medical treatment she needed soon enough.”
“She died? Of an infection?” She’d heard of super germs during her months in the hospital. “Was it MRSA?”
“Nope, just a cut on her leg that she didn’t think was a big deal. She was trying to save money by not seeing the doctor. By the time it was bad, she didn’t have a way to get to the doctor. My brother was away for work and she couldn’t drive herself by then.”
He didn’t say it, but Isabel could imagine that if an ambulance service had been available, the poor woman might be alive today. Understanding of his dream flooded her. That didn’t mean she wanted to live on the reservation. “Your sister? Is she married?”
“Divorced. Her ex was an alcoholic, and she left him.”
“You said a lot of people have a problem with alcohol. Your family?”
“Nope. None of us.”
She nodded, thinking. “Dusty, to be hon
est, the reservation sounds like a horrible place. I see why you want to live there, but I don’t. I want to stay here in Dallas.”
He leaned forward, his mouth opening, but the waitress returned then with their meals. Isabel stared down at her turkey club sandwich. It looked great. A couple of minutes ago, she’d been hungry; now her stomach was twisted so tightly she didn’t think she could eat. Dusty was staring down at his plate too, his mouth set in a hard, thin line. He picked up a French fry, held it for a moment, and put it down.
“Isa, all my family are on the Res. It’s my home.”
“But you’ve lived here for five years. We could stay here and visit your family every year.” She didn’t like the pleading note in her voice so she stopped and drew a breath. “This is really important to me.”
“I know. I can understand that. My plans for an ambulance service on the Res aren’t selfish. It will help tens of thousands of people who really need it. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Yes.” She could. It was a noble thing he wanted to do. Dusty was a noble man. She tried to imagine leaving Dallas, living so far from her family and her heritage. Nothing. It seemed her mind couldn’t even conceive of it. “I can’t leave Dallas. Especially now, after the fire. I can’t abandon Inez with the store to reopen. She needs me.”
He smiled, and winced when his dried lip stretched too far. “I’m not planning on quitting my job and moving immediately. It won’t be for a few years.”
A few years wasn’t enough time. “I can’t move to South Dakota. I don’t have any family there.”
Dusty pushed his plate away, untouched. “Isa, you’d have me. I’d be there. Aren’t I enough?”
So many answers poured into her mind in a confusing rush that she just stared at him mutely. His face hardened. “I’m not enough.”
“I love you!” she cried.
“But not enough to support my dream. Not enough to live where I feel like I’m supposed to be.”
“What about me?” she burst out. “Do you love me enough to stay here in Dallas?”
They stared at each other. She searched his handsome face for some sign of weakening and felt her heart break when he remained stony. Horrible, hot tears pressed against her eyes. She clamped her lips tightly together to keep them from trembling. It came to her suddenly that her expression probably mirrored his. Was he trying to control tears too?