being emotionally strong.
Still, that brief human contact had been nice.
There were two enormous cement urns filled with pine and berries on either side of the doors. Cass looked further to see the stone arched beams of the ceiling then on to a grand staircase. On the floor beside it lay a pile of pine wood. Here she was in this strange place for the holidays when all she wished for was home. She would get her arm and leg strong again as fast as she could, then return to America to grieve her loss in private.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” The doctor stood too close as if he was afraid she might stumble again.
“I’m fine.” The words sounded sharp and overly loud in the cavernous entrance hall. If she could just get to her room, she could nurse the excruciating throbbing in her arm and leg. She would be limping by then as well.
“On our way to your room, let me tell you where a few things are. This is Admissions.” He waved a hand to indicate a room off the hall. “Louise, my administrative assistant, and I have our offices there. She’s out this afternoon as well. You two can sort out the paperwork in the morning. I’m sure you’re tired.”
Cass was beyond tired. The effort it had taken her to travel from Germany to Fort William then the drive north had worn her out. She hadn’t recovered anywhere near as much as she wanted to believe.
“Over here is the dining room.” He walked across the hall and stood in a wide doorway.
Cass joined him. Despite her physical distress, she loved his accent. It was soothing, for some reason.
The room he wanted her to see was long and wide with a dark barrel ceiling sculpted out of wood from which hung large, black iron chandeliers. A fireplace Cass could stand up in filled the wall on the far end with flags arranged overhead. The walls were partially covered in wainscoting. Above that were a few male portraits in impressive frames. A huge table, surrounded by imposing matching chairs, capable of seating at least twenty people, stood in the center of the room. An oriental rug in blue and red lay beneath it. The only thing out of place was a pile of greenery on the floor in one corner and a few boxes stacked beside it.
He must have noticed the direction of her gaze. “Pardon the mess. We’re in the process of decorating for Christmas.”
Cass pretended he hadn’t spoken. Not even the holidays could heal her broken heart.
Dr. Sinclair was saying, “All meals are served here, unless there’s a reason the resident is incapable of joining us. We dress for the evening meal. It’s at seven.”
“Dress? As in diamonds and tux?”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “No. More like no workout clothes allowed. The idea is for the residents to use their skills and have something positive to look forward to. We work on the principle that if you don’t use it, you lose it.”
She glanced at him. He really was quite handsome in a rugged way. “Like?”
“Fastening a button, passing a bowl or even manipulating a fork.” He turned toward the central hall.
“I have no trouble with any of those so why must I attend?” She joined him.
“Because we want our residents to feel like they’re part of our family, which they are,” he said over his shoulder as he started down the hall.
She had zero interest in being sociable. All she wanted was time to herself to think about what she would do next, where she wanted her life to go. How she could get past the mass of emotions churning inside her. Could she continue working in search and rescue? Work with a new dog? Learn to trust another man?
Maybe she could just make sure she wasn’t around when it was dinnertime. This place sounded more like a prison than a clinic. “Hey, do you mind telling me why I was sent here?”
That got his attention. “So you can regain your mobility.”
“I know that. I mean why here in particular? Couldn’t I have gone to a clinic in America? What makes this place so special?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “As I understand it, your orthopedic doctor believes this is the right clinic for you.”
She stepped toward him, pinning him with a direct look. “What led him to believe this specific clinic was the right place for me to complete my physical therapy?”
Dr. Sinclair shifted his weight and raised his chin. “I’m not sure what you’re looking for but our residents have an uncommonly high success rate of making as complete a recovery as possible, and by recovery I mean holistic recovery. Our state-of-the-art clinic features a peaceful atmosphere conducive to healing…” he waved a hand around, indicating the castle “…and our canine therapy has proved to be fundamental in facilitating that recovery as well. Does that reassure you?”
Canine therapy. Cass took a step back, her chest constricting. She couldn’t deal with this right now. It was too soon after the loss of her dog and partner, Rufus. “I’m not interested in canine therapy.”
Her German shepherd-wolfhound mix partner had been with her for four years. She’d had him since he was a puppy. She’d even gone to Germany to pick him up from the breeders. They had trained together at a search and rescue school in California. They’d understood each other, trusted one another.
Now he was gone. Despite him being an animal, the hurt of his loss was more acute than the pain of broken bones or her ex-boyfriend’s assessment of her ability to maintain a relationship. She and Rufus had been all over the world together, crawling in and over disaster sites that others only saw on TV while drinking their morning coffee. As a team, they had been a part of tragedies that no one should ever see or experience. Gratitude and guilt filled her in equal measure.
She felt the doctor’s keen observation and focused on his mild expression. He turned and started down an adjacent hall to the left, saying, “This way to the lift.”
Cass glanced at the staircase in relief then followed, taking careful steps to ensure there wasn’t a repeat performance of what had almost happened outside.
He looked over his shoulder. “As our residents improve, they use the stairs whenever possible.”
Cass once more eyed the daunting set of wide steps made of gray marble. “And that’s mandatory?”
Dr. Sinclair gave her a grin. “‘Mandatory’ is such an unfriendly word. Why don’t we go with ‘greatly encouraged’? It’s part of the graduation program to be able to walk up and down the stairs, but we don’t require that until you’re ready.”
Did her relief show on her face? “What makes you think I’m not ready?”
“Maybe the tight line of your lips that indicates that little stumble outside hurt more than you wish to admit.”
Cass grimaced inwardly. The man had an acute sense of awareness. Could he see that more than her body pained her? That her heart hurt? Cass hoped not. She was nowhere near ready to share her feelings. “I don’t hurt.”
“Liar.” He gave her a flash of a smile. One she was sure made people want to confide in him, which she wasn’t going to do. As if he knew what she was thinking, he said in a gentle manner, “You
