Good Medicine (17 page)

T
HE MORPHINE MUST HAVE COME
from Jordan. Had she given it to her husband as a bribe, to get him to leave?

However it had gone down, the end result was that Patwin had gotten hold of it. Silas took the vials into the bathroom, broke them open and flushed them. He broke the syringes into pieces and buried them in the garbage. He went back into Patwin's room and threw a few things into a backpack he found in the closet. Wrestling his brother into his jacket, he hauled him to his feet.

“You and I are going for a long walk,” he said through gritted teeth. He looped one of Patwin's arms around his shoulders, stopping on his way out long enough to scribble a note for his mother:
Gone into the bush with Patwin. Be back when we get back.

S
HIVERING IN THE SUDDEN CHILL
of the setting sun, Jordan hurried along the path to Silas's cabin. The afternoon had been so busy she hadn't realized the weather was changing. The evening sky was ominously overcast, and the stiff breeze off the ocean was colder than usual.

After the call to the RCMP, she hadn't had time to think about anything except work. There'd been a baby with severe croup, an old, diabetic man with a seriously infected leg, an entire family with gastroenteritis, which Jordan suspected was from tainted meat, and then, worst of all, an eleven-year-old girl with a vaginal infection. Jordan suspected she was sexually abused. When Christina had called in the social worker, the girl was taken into custody, pending an investigation.

Now she was weary, and if it hadn't been for Christina, she'd also have been famished. The nurse had made her sit down and eat an egg sandwich.

Jordan hurried through the trees, trying to figure out what to say to Silas, how to explain what had occurred. The RCMP had called her back to say that Garry was in custody in Tofino. A search of his bag had produced her prescription pads and some of the drugs she was missing. He'd appear before a magistrate tomorrow morning.

The sound of bike tires behind her made her turn, and when Eli and Michael reached her, she smiled at them.

“Hi, Doctor Jordan.” They pulled up on either side of her, pedaling so slow she marveled at their ability to balance the bikes.

“Hey, boys. Where are you off to?” Crazy question. As far as she knew the path led to only one destination.

“To Silas's house,” Eli said. “He asked us to keep an eye on his place for him, so we're going to make sure the windows are all shut because there's a storm coming in.”

Jordan's heart sank and she slowed and then stopped. “Where's Silas gone?”

Michael dismounted to stand beside her. “Him and Patwin went into the bush. Patwin was real sleepy, but Silas made him walk, anyway.”

Jordan frowned. That didn't make sense. “When did they go?” Surely Silas would have said something this morning, if he'd been planning a trip.

Michael said, “A couple hours ago, right, Eli.”

“Yeah. A couple hours now.”

That could mean anything, of course, since the kids had no sense of time, which made her next question idiotic. But she asked it, anyway. “Did he say when they'd be back?”

“Nope.” Eli shook his head. “They took sleeping bags, though. So maybe a couple days. Maybe even a week, eh, Michael?”

“Yeah, prob'ly a week. My dad stays a week when he goes into the bush.”

“Okay.” So anywhere from a day to a month. Puzzled, she turned around and started to head back on the path, her heart heavy and her feet dragging. “I was going to see Silas, but if he's not there I'll head home. Thanks, guys.”

“You want us to ride back to town with you?” Michael said. “We can still get to Silas's after, it won't be dark for a while.”

“No, no. I'm fine on my own, I'm not scared.” Not of wild animals, not tonight.

“Yeah, that bad man who scared you is gone, right, Doctor Jordan?”

She wasn't paying attention. She was thinking of Silas, and why he'd left her without a word. “What bad—oh, Garry. Yes, he's gone.” She kept forgetting that not much went on without these two knowing about it.

“Yeah, we saw Billy's father running with him down to catch the boat.” They glanced at each other and snickered. “Billy's father's really strong, eh? He boosted him on board good, didn't he, Doctor Jordan?”

“He sure did.”

They exchanged telling glances. “That man, he's your husband, right, Doctor Jordan?”

“Yeah. But not for long.”

“And he's a junkie, right?”

Jordan stopped walking and faced them. She was careful to keep her tone curious and conversational. “Now where did you hear that?”

“Eli's mom said it. When she was talking to you, right, Eli?”

“But how did you overhear what Christina said? We were inside my house.”

They looked at each other and then Eli said, “We hid outside your house, because that man called us half-breeds and we didn't like him and we didn't want him to hurt you.”

Jordan was beginning to suspect what might have happened with Silas, and it made her feel sick to her stomach. “That was thoughtful of you. Did you guys happen to tell Silas what Garry and I were saying?”

“Yeah. We told him your husband was a junkie, and
he wanted money and stuff from you. We told him you were scared, but then Eli's mom came and that guy left.”

“Um-hm.” If they were listening at her window, Silas knew everything. He knew about Garry and the drugs. And that she'd been less than honest with him. But why wouldn't he give her a chance to explain?

She'd planned to tell him that she'd skipped the sordid details of her life because she wanted him only to know the best parts of her. She'd wanted him to see her for herself, not in the shadow of Garry and drugs and bad decisions. And she'd been afraid.

She'd learned early in life to smile and be agreeable even when she was miserable, because she was afraid that if anybody knew her real feelings, they wouldn't like her. And, as a child, that meant she'd be moved to another foster home. Helen had helped her to identify and release some of what she was feeling, but old habits died hard. She'd been less than open with Silas.

Right now Jordan felt like beating the ground with her fists. Instead, she managed a smile and a jaunty wave to the two culprits who'd just ruined her love life. It wasn't their fault.

“Bye, guys. See you later.”

“Bye, Doctor Jordan.” They sped off, and Jordan dragged herself back to her apartment.

Too tired and sick at heart to eat, when she went to bed she couldn't sleep. Around eleven, she swallowed a sleeping pill, and when her cell rang at midnight, she could barely drag herself out of her drugged sleep.

At first, she assumed it must be Garry. But she'd had the number changed, and the only people she'd given it to were Silas, her lawyer, Helen—and her brother. Eagerly she punched the talk button, and his familiar, dear voice spilled across the miles and into her heart.

“Hey, squirt, I bet I woke you up, sorry about that. I thought I'd just let it ring when your answering service didn't kick in.”

She'd forgotten to activate it, and now she was glad she hadn't. Thank God she'd left her new number on his machine.

“You can wake me up any old time you like.” Jordan sat up and shoved both pillows behind her. “How are you, Toby?” Shivering, she wrapped the quilt around her shoulders. She could hear rain beating down on the roof, and the air from the open window was damp and chilly.

“A little drunk at the moment, I'm celebrating because I finally finished that damned yacht. Got paid, too, so I blew some on a bottle of really good wine. Wish you were here to share it with me, kid.”

“God, how I wish I was.” Exhausted and empty and terribly lonely, her eyes filled with tears. She did her best to keep her voice steady. “So what are you going to do now?”

“Well, that's why I'm calling. I thought, if it wouldn't disrupt your life too much, I might mosey on over there and visit you for a while.”

“Oh, Toby, yes, please! I'd love it if you came and stayed with me. When?”

“I'll fly to Vancouver tomorrow, and then see if I can catch a flight over to Tofino. How do I get from there to Flores Island?”

“There's a water taxi, but it only runs a couple times a day. The fastest way is the floatplane, but it's more expensive.”

“Money's no object. And now that I'm filthy rich, what can I bring you from the big city?”

That was easy. “Häagen-Dazs, please. Almond-pecan. A huge tub of it—I can't get it here.” And she'd never needed it more than she had tonight.

“Done. See you tomorrow, squirt. With ice cream in hand.”

She hung up, feeling a little easier just knowing her brother was coming.

She worried over sleeping arrangements. The rump-sprung sofa in the living room wasn't inviting. Maybe Toby could use one of the treatment rooms while he was here. She'd check with Christina in the morning.

Then, inevitably, painfully, her thoughts turned to Silas. Where was he sleeping tonight? The rain was hammering on the roof, steady and unrelenting. It couldn't be very comfortable in a tent on a night like this.

Maybe he'd come back tomorrow, and she could talk to him. Even if he didn't understand, even if he didn't want to go on with their relationship—even if he was furious with her—at least she'd have the satisfaction of explaining herself.

Why was it so important to her? She hadn't really
known him that long. Yes, the sex was amazing, he made her feel as if she'd never really known passion before. But that was only one part of the equation. There was a maturity, a depth of character in Silas she hadn't found in other men. He was funny, playful and quirky. Kind, he was incredibly kind. Thoughtful. Puzzling—there were aspects to his healing practice she didn't begin to understand. But she loved being with him, she loved talking to him, she loved— Stillness came over her.
My God.

Could she have fallen in love with Silas Keefer? How did a person really know if they were in love? She'd believed she loved Garry, and look where that went.

This feeling for Silas was different, though. Bigger, more profound. Frightening, as well, as if something inside her were breaking open, some deep, scarred place she hadn't even known was there.

If she was in love with Silas, she was going to have to admit it to him. Regardless of the consequences. She was still thinking about what those might be when she finally fell asleep again, lulled by the steady patter of rain on the roof.

T
HE BUSH WAS WET
, and Silas had been listening to Patwin grouse about it for hours now.

“If this is what it means to be an Indian, I'm giving up my status,” the younger man said in his new hoarse voice. “Rain's dripping down my neck, my sleeping bag's damp and every stitch of my clothes are soaked.
This stupid fire is more smoke than flame, and you didn't even bring a tent, never mind whiskey to treat hypothermia. Lucky you remembered matches, or we'd have been really screwed. Didn't you even check the weather channel before we started out? What kind of Nuu-chah-nulth warrior are you, anyhow, big brother?”

The drugs seemed to be gone from Patwin's system. Silas had half dragged him along at first, but it wasn't long before Patwin could walk on his own. When he'd seemed rational, if a bit hyper, Silas asked him about the morphine.

“Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Silas. One of the guys dropped over and sold it to me. My neck hurt so bad I really needed it.”

“Johnny Swann. Did he say where he got it?”

“No idea.”

“Why did you take it, Patwin? After everybody at the healing ceremony told you they'd do anything to help, you turn around and take morphine?”

“I'm sorry, Silas. I told you, my throat hurt like fire, I just wanted the pain gone. And the doc gave me morphine anyhow, I figured a little more wouldn't hurt.”

Silas was too angry and sick at heart to pursue the matter at that moment, so they just kept walking.

Patwin finally asked, “Where the hell we going, anyways?”

“To the old fishing camp.”

“I don't wanna go fishing. I hate fishing. Dad used to take me out on fishing trips, I always hated it.”

“At least Peter taught you a little about living in the
bush,” Silas said. “The only survival training I got was in making panty raids on the girl's dorm without getting caught.”

“Lucky you.” Patwin wasn't interested. “Why the hell didn't you bring rain slickers, Silas?”

“Too heavy to pack.” He hadn't thought of it. He'd been thinking of Jordan instead. “The garbage bags were a good idea.”

They wore black plastic bags like tunics in an attempt to keep at least a little dry in the downpour, and they'd made a makeshift shelter out of branches. But it wasn't doing much good, not the way the rain was pelting down.

“Can we go home in the morning?” Patwin whined. “
Please?
I promise, if I live through this I'll never try to off myself again. And I won't do drugs anymore, you've got my word on it.” Patwin shivered, yawned and took a sip from a tin cup, and then spat the mouthful out. “Shit. That's the worst coffee I've ever tasted, and the detention center had some pretty bad sludge.”

“You mean that? About not doing suicide or drugs again?”

Patwin didn't answer for a moment, but then he nodded. “Yeah, I do mean it, so you can tell Dad and the rest of the family to call off the twenty-four-hour watch, because it's making me nuts. I wake up at three in the morning and Mom's sitting beside my bed staring at me, for cripes' sake. It's freaking me out.” He was quiet for a while, and then in a different tone he said, “I talked with Mary yesterday. I told her I'd do my best
for the baby, whether or not we end up together. It's not the kid's fault we aren't ready for it.”