with steaming coffee. Her older sister was dressed in a pair of bright colored scrubs, while the happy smile on her face said the night of partying had hardly affected her energy level.
Bridget was often amazed at how her sister always remained so young and beautiful and bubbly. She and her husband Quint had two little boys, Riley and Clancy, and both were under the age of three. When she wasn’t working here at the clinic as Bridget’s supervising R.N., she was taking care of her husband’s and children’s needs, along with keeping a close eye on her grandfather-in-law, Abe. But Maura was in love, Bridget thought wistfully. And she had a husband who loved her back. Maybe that made all the difference.
“Oh, my, you do look awful,” Maura exclaimed as she came to a stop in the middle of the room. “You’d better get some of this coffee down. Your first patient will be arriving in about an hour.”
Groaning, Bridget scrubbed her face with both hands. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time for the coffee. Is Janna here yet?”
“She just came in, why?”
“Because my morning appointments are going to have to be rescheduled. Tell her I’ll try to work in the most serious cases this afternoon, the rest will have to be scattered through the remainder of the week.”
“Oh. What’s up?”
Rising from the couch, Bridget took the cup from her sister and downed several fortifying sips before she answered, “An emergency. Johnny Chino’s grandmother is very ill. I need to leave in a few minutes to travel back to the reservation and treat her again.”
Maura frowned. “Is that where you raced off to last night? Brady told us you had an emergency, but he didn’t know where.”
Nodding, Bridget handed the cup back to Maura, then plucked her high heels from where she’d stepped out of them early this morning. Thankfully her private office was not only large enough to accommodate a couch for her to crash on during emergencies, it was also equipped with an ample-size shower and a closet with enough room for several changes of clothing. Ileana Sanders McCleod, the physician who’d originally built this clinic, had definitely understood what a doctor needed to keep herself on schedule.
“That’s right,” she said, answering Maura’s question.
“But why call you? I mean, there’s an Indian hospital right on the reservation.”
Bridget kept her face carefully averted from her sister. Although, she wasn’t sure why she needed to guard the emotional upheaval she’d gone through last night. Maura had no idea that she’d ever had any sort of connection to Johnny Chino. Nor did the rest of her family. Without that knowledge, there was no way Maura could read anything into her expressions.
“Naomi Chino is ninety-three and refuses to go to the hospital. She—asked for me to come and I—couldn’t refuse.”
“Hmm. I suppose you should feel honored that she wanted you treating her instead of a doctor from her own tribe. But frankly, it doesn’t make sense. Have you met her before?”
Bridget kept herself busy pulling bobby pins from her thick mane and allowing the curls that had managed to stay fastened to her head fall to her midback. “Years ago. I went to a few festivals on the reservation and we … talked during those occasions. But I figure Brady’s long friendship with Johnny is probably the reason she wanted me to doctor her.”
“Oh, yes. They’ve been like brothers since way back. Probably since kindergarten days.”
Bridget smiled to herself. Imagining Johnny as a five-year-old boy was an almost impossible task. To her he’d always been a tall, bronze warrior, a man who made her heart beat fast and dreams blossom. How shocked would Maura be if she told her that? Bridget wondered wryly. What would her sister think if she told her that she’d once loved, still loved the Apache? It was a question that often entered her mind, but had never been put into spoken words.
“So what’s wrong with Mrs. Chino?”
Forcing her thoughts to the present, Bridget moved behind her desk, and searched through a drawer for a hairbrush. “Flu. And I’m afraid she’s near pneumonia.” Finding the brush, she began to tug it through the tangled curls. “So how did the rest of the reception go? Conall and Vanessa seem so happy, don’t they?”
“They’re glowing like neon signs,” Maura agreed. “And everyone at the party seemed to have a great time. And the band was fabulous,” she added, then chuckled. “Who knew Conall liked doo-wop music! It was so much fun!”
“I’m glad I got to be there for part of it.” With a few quick flicks, Bridget coiled her hair into a knot and pinned it to the back of her head. “I’d better get out of this dress and head to the shower. Would you tell Janna what’s going on?”
“Sure.” Peering more closely at Bridget, Maura pushed her hip away from the desk. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
Shrugging, she said, “I’ve never seen you looking so exhausted. Maybe you should ask another doctor to go to the reservation in your place.”
“That’s out,” Bridget said flatly. “I’m handling this.”
With a palms-up gesture, Maura made a move to leave the room. “Okay. It was just a suggestion.” At the door, she paused to look back at Bridget. “What time do I tell Janna that you’ll be back here to the clinic?”
“If all goes as planned I should be back by lunchtime. I’ll call if that changes.”
Nodding that she understood, Maura said, “Be careful driving over the mountain. And don’t worry, I’ll help hold down the fort here.”
“Thanks, sis.”
Once Maura had slipped through the door, then shut it firmly behind her, Bridget jumped into action. Five minutes later, she was showered, dressed in a pair of neat gray slacks, black turtleneck and dress boots. After deciding to leave her hair loose, she grabbed a red woolen jacket and headed out a back exit of the clinic.
By now, the morning sun was beginning to filter through the golden autumn leaves of a nearby aspen. Maura’s truck, along with the receptionist’s car, was parked alongside her Jeep in the private parking area. Sharp north winds were swooping across the parking lot, forcing Bridget to pull on her jacket before she climbed in and started the engine. As she backed the vehicle onto the quiet street running adjacent to the rear of the building, she was glad that she’d filled the gas tank last night, rather than having to take extra time to do it this morning.
As for the medications Naomi needed, Bridget didn’t bother making a stop at the nearest pharmacy. She’d pulled the medicines from the private stock of drugs she kept on hand for use at the clinic. If Johnny happened to notice there were no pharmacy labels on the bottles, she’d explain they were samples and leave it at that. From past experiences, she knew that he and his grandparents were proud people and didn’t want or expect handouts of any kind.
Even though it was daylight and the road clearly visible, it took more than thirty-five minutes to drive to the Chino home. During the trip, Bridget tried to keep her mind on Naomi and the treatment she’d mentally mapped out for her. But even as Bridget pondered the old woman’s ailment, Johnny was right there, haunting, reminding her that so much had changed and yet so much was still the same. His strong, solemn face was the last
