Who wasn’t quite ready to own up to the truth. He actually wasn’t so sure on the reasons himself. He pulled himself to his feet and shook the stiffness out of his back. Sitting on linoleum was a world of different from sitting on sand. “I doubt you’d understand.”
“Sure. I don’t understand the language, the customs, why over half my patients have the flu. I don’t understand why you tell my patients there’s nothing I can do for them when that’s not true. I don’t understand why my landline won’t work. I don’t understand a damn thing.” She was on her feet, backing away from him. “Least of all you.”
He swallowed. He’d pushed when he should have pulled. “I can check into your landline.”
She shook her head, like she couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Don’t you have a job? Someplace to be? Anywhere but here?”
Now they were getting somewhere. She was pulling again. She was the kind of woman who needed to pull. She was that good at it.
“Sure. I work.”
After she ran her hand over her hair again, she crossed her arms in frustration. Or was it protection? “Where?”
“Wherever I want.”
He would be lucky if he got out of here without her strangling him. At least he could tell that was what she was thinking. “Doing what?” She liked to pull. She liked the control. So she could just keep pulling.
He shrugged, like he wasn’t sure. “What I want.”
“For whom?” For a woman who’d seen patients all day, and unpacked supplies all evening, she was suddenly looking quite feisty. And there were no patients around this time. He could kiss her now, and the worst thing that could happen would be that she stabbed him with a scalpel.
As long as she didn’t hit a major blood vessel...he might risk it. “For me, myself and I.” She glared at him, and he knew he’d earned it. “This is the rez,” he added, trying to shrug it off. “Things are different here.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” She turned, looking at the whole of the clinic. He knew it had to come up lacking.
Again, he tried to imagine what she’d given up to come, and why she’d given it up. Others had come, filled with misguided hope about saving the noble savages from themselves. Those were the ones that lasted weeks, if not days. But she gave no indication that was the reason, and he didn’t have a clue. “We’re glad you came,” he offered, hoping to make peace.
“We?” She pivoted, and suddenly, Rebel found himself looking at Madeline.
“Me. I’m glad you came.”
Slowly, the smile developed like an old-fashioned Polaroid. Free from Dr. Mitchell, Madeline was beyond beautiful. It took everything he had not to step up, take that angelic face in his hands and kiss her. “Thank you for your help,” she said again, each word coming out precisely measured.
“Anytime,” he said. “Glad to do it.” For you, he silently added.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, and then, in a heartbeat, Madeline was gone. “Will you be gracing the clinic with your presence tomorrow?” Dr. Mitchell said, putting the desk between her and Rebel.
That was it—the sign that he should not kiss her. Not tonight anyway. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
She bit her lip, and he saw her. Madeline. Madeline wanted to see him tomorrow, no matter how much he irritated Dr. Mitchell. Who would win? “No,” she finally said with crushing certainty. “I do not want to see you tomorrow.”
Second nature. She probably didn’t even know she’d done it.
But he did.
By the time he got the car back to Irma’s and had ridden over to Albert’s, Jesse was in full whining mode again. Just like he’d been when Rebel had last seen him.
“Bro! Come on. At least change the channel for me. I’m dying over here.”
The familiarity was comforting, in that pain-in-the-ass kind of way. “Suffer. You’re the damn fool who broke his leg. Not me.”
“I don’t remember you trying to stop me,” Jesse huffed as he tried to shift on Albert’s couch.
Rebel couldn’t help but compare Jesse’s whining to Nobody’s stoic silence. Damn, but he could go for a little stoic silence right now. “Jesse, I gave up trying to tell you what to do when you were seven.”
“Some medicine man you are. Can’t even tell your own brother when he’s going to crash and burn,” Jesse muttered, giving up on shifting. He threw his arms over his head to block out PBS. “Just change the channel, Rebel.”
“Suffer. You might learn something.” Like not to be a jerk, but after all these years, the chances were slim. “Seen your daughter today?”