Tying the Knot (14 page)

She laughed aloud. Bertha looked at her, blinking those glassy brown eyes.
Romance?
She shook her head. She’d obviously let fancy have its way with her. For a moment she had wondered what it would feel like to hold Noah’s wide hand. To be caught in his strong arms. The idea made her giggle. So maybe romance could be in her future. Noah surely had romance in his eyes.

She hoped she hadn’t dreamed that part.

She watched Sandra drive up in her Scout, get out, and stride up to the hospital entrance. Anne lifted her hand in a wave, but Sandra didn’t see her. A surge of thankfulness swept through Anne for her new friend. Only two days ago, Sandra had let her rant and rave without comment, and her only word of wisdom had been
pray
. Anne glanced at heaven, at the wispy cirrus clouds, the golden sunlight as radiant and warm as Noah’s eyes.

Thanks, God
. The words tightened her chest. She’d been avoiding heaven for a good while, but this turn of events felt pretty heaven sent. Maybe God had decided to cut her some slack, add abundance to her dreary world. Maybe the Almighty still cared about Anne Lundstrom. It didn’t mean she could trust Him, but certainly He had kindled an ember of hope. Perhaps that spark would ignite her faith.

If Anne were to be honest, she had to admit to a regular inferno of hope raging in her chest.

“Stay here, Bertha. I’ll be right back.” Anne cracked the windows and exited her SUV, shutting the door before the dog could barrel out. Bertha let out a whine. “Sorry, honey; it’ll just be a second.” A short stop in Dr. Simpson’s office, and then she’d floor it up to Gunflint Trail. She couldn’t wait to see the look in Noah’s beautiful eyes when she appeared on his doorstep, sleeves rolled up, ready to sign on the dotted line.

The roar of a motorcycle made her pause, turn, and freeze as she watched the man in her thoughts pull into the lot. The sight of Noah dressed in a leather jacket, black jeans, and work boots, handling his bike as if he were astride a galloping stallion, made her heart stand up and jig.

She stayed beside her vehicle, forcing herself not to run out to him. Her mother’s voice twanged in the back of her brain:
Don’t appear too anxious, honey. Let the boys do the courting.
Anne rolled her eyes at the practical advice.

But she obeyed. As she watched Noah park the bike, she wondered what element about him always sent a thrill through her. Yes, his eyes turned her weak and he had arms sturdy enough to hold back her fears. It wasn’t his hair, although that begged for a woman’s touch. It had to be his bearing. Noah Standing Bear exuded a very intoxicating mix of danger and protection. Like a lion pacing around his pride. She wondered, for a rebellious, giddy, idiotic moment, how it would feel to be the woman in his care.

He turned toward the hospital. His face looked grim, and something about the way he strode across the parking lot, his fists clenched at his sides, sent a streak of fear through her. “Noah?”

He stopped and looked her way. For a second, she wondered if he had actually paled. He didn’t smile, and that omission made her feel oddly ill, as if she’d eaten the smoked fish head in his fridge. “Hi.”

“Hi, back.” She fought the wild impulse to dive in the car and floor it, but some sort of desperation rooted her to the spot as he trudged over to her.

“I was hoping to catch you.”

The way he said it told her he wasn’t intending to ask her out for breakfast. She swallowed a swelling lump in her throat. “Yes?”

He looked away, and she thought she saw him wince. Then his jaw hardened, and when he faced her again, the coldness in his eyes made her hurt to her toes. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to return to Wilderness Challenge. You did a great job yesterday, and I’m very thankful for your help. But please, don’t come back.”

She felt as if she’d been punched in the chest. Her breath vanished. “Don’t come back?”

“Not until Saturday—that’s when the rest of the staff arrives. Staff training starts on Monday, if you want to wait until then.”

She wanted to turn and flee, to escape this raw moment before she burst into betraying tears and he saw clear to her wounded heart. Pride kept her feet in place. She forced herself to nod, totally confused. “Okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. Did he think he could just use her—which he was so obviously doing—to get the funding for the summer? Noah didn’t want her; he wanted her skills, her diploma. Her eyes began to burn.

He didn’t look at her. “Great. So, I’ll see you Monday?”

Total shock made her agree before she realized she’d even spoken. Sure, she’d love to spend the summer letting him twist her heart right out of her chest.

“Thanks again for your help yesterday.” The words sounded wooden, to match his expression.

Anne shrugged, unable to comprehend how her golden future had turned completely black.

Then he turned and walked—no, ran—back to his motorcycle. Anne clenched her jaw, but she couldn’t stave off the flood of tears as she watched him drive away, his back straight and proud like a warrior who’d just shot his prey.

9

The air smelled of Lake Superior, fresh and cleansing—exactly what Anne needed after three days of rain and gloom. She hung her elbow out of Dr. Jefferies’ silver Lexus, thankful he’d chosen to drive to the reservation clinic today. The silence on her lonely trek north up Highway 61 the past three days, through a gray sheet of fog and surprising June chill, had left her raw and barren. Solitude—something she’d once craved—seemed like honorable mention after Noah’s vibrant company.

She’d been instantly grateful for Dr. Simpson’s meddling and bossiness when he commanded her to assist Jenny Olson at the Granite River Indian Reservation medical clinic. These last couple of days in the nurse’s capable and cheerful presence had kept Anne’s mind from wandering back to Wilderness Challenge and diving into a heart-wrenching daydream of Noah chopping wood or rigging the tents. It nearly made her cry the few times she thought of him with his hands in his pockets, watching the lake, eyes filled with some exotic mystery she would have longed to solve.

Anne groaned and closed her eyes. It felt totally unfair that Noah had invaded her heart in one day, while she had been nothing more to him than a money cow. She now recognized that return-to-me look for what it was—greed.

She should have known better than to trust him. Hadn’t her years living in the hood taught her anything? She thought her heart was smarter than to go soggy at a pair of beautiful eyes and rugged charisma. Even if for the briefest of moments she’d felt safe and as if she’d found someone who didn’t look at her like prey, she should have kept her heart safely under lock and key. She felt like a boy-crazy dolt. He would never have a chance to charm her with his deceptive powers again . . . he’d have to tie her up and gag her to get her back to Wilderness Challenge.

Too bad she hadn’t said that on the spot to his handsome face. Maybe she could just . . . not show up on Monday morning? The thought of him tracking her down, fire in his eyes, made her wince. The last thing she needed was his disturbing the peace at Edith’s. She moaned, wishing she had been quicker with her tongue so she could have scraped up the words to tell Mr. Noah Standing Bear exactly what she thought of him and his employment techniques.

Dr. Jefferies smiled at her. “Glad to have you along with me today. I hear you’ve had a good week.”

Anne nodded as she glanced at the doctor. Now here was a man worthy of her attention. Clean-cut, blond hair, kind brown eyes, groomed hands firmly on the steering wheel. She’d been a fool to fall so easily for tall, dark, and handsome. She’d let her idiotic heart whisk her off to never-never land, making it apparent she’d left her brain in Minneapolis when she moved to Deep Haven. Thankfully, it had tracked her down in time to settle her into her job. She was here to learn, and today she was under the tutelage of handsome, normal, proper family doctor Richard Jefferies, the latest and best catch from the pool of eligible bachelors. Not that she was fishing, but it was important to be in the right company.

“It’s been nice to be busy,” Anne said in answer to his comment. “Jenny brought me out on Wednesday, introduced me to the tribal council, and showed me around the reservation. She mentioned the clinic needed some work.”

“That’s an understatement.” Dr. Jefferies turned down the swell of hip-hop on the radio, to Anne’s silent gratitude. “With the new casino opening, I know the reservation has plans to sink some profits into the community.” He shrugged and gave her a bleak look. “About half these folks live below the poverty level, even with the casino profits. The other half send cash down to the cities to help their families.”

Anne had no problem picturing those folks. Half of them lived in her former neighborhood. Many of them escaped the reservation to find jobs or attend the university. The others had simply exchanged rural poverty for urban hopelessness. There was a good reason why alcoholism skyrocketed among the elderly Native Americans. Many still had difficulty finding their footing, regardless of where they lived.

“I met some wonderful young mothers,” Anne offered, “and according to the reservation statistics, about half are double-parent homes.”

“Granite River Reservation has a better percentage than many. Over 75 percent of the population is gainfully employed, between the state parks, the federal jobs, the casino, and the border jobs in Thunder Bay. That’s not typical, however.” Dr. Jefferies passed a crawling minivan, piled high with luggage. Anne waved at a little girl who had pushed her nose up against her grimy window.

“Most Native Americans struggle with a place to call home,” Dr. Jefferies continued, his foot stomping on the accelerator as he passed a slow-moving car. “The reservation is no picnic. Jobs are hard to find. Poverty, broken marriages, and alcoholism are the norm. And the city offers no escape. Without a decent education, they find themselves on the street or crammed in with their distant relatives.”

“What about drugs? I’ve heard they’re on the rise.” The memory of one punk, high on some sort of uppers—snow or perhaps black beauties—raced through her mind. She blinked it away.

Dr. Jefferies paused, pursed his lips. “It’s always an issue.”

“And gangs? In the cities, they play no favorites. Native Americans are sucked in along with the rest of the kids.”

“I don’t know about the gang activity in Granite River, but I wouldn’t be surprised.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, brow furrowed, as if wrestling with his thoughts. “By the way, if you haven’t already heard, there’s a burglar afoot in Deep Haven. Gloria Miller—she works in the PT department—had her house vandalized while she was on vacation. And one of the local nurses claims she was followed while coming off late shift last week. She called the cops on the way home, and they were waiting for her at her house. It scared the mugger off. But he’s out there, so, well . . . just be careful, okay?”

He glanced at her, and she saw concern in his eyes, reaching out to her. “If you are ever afraid, you know you can call me. I’d be glad to help . . . walk you home or whatever.”

She imagined Dr. Jefferies standing in front of some mugger, and while his slight form didn’t inspire the confidence that, say, Noah the Thug would have, the kind offer warmed her heart. “Thank you.”

They passed the sprawling Granite River Casino, crafted to resemble a cozy 1800s lodge in the tradition of the fur traders who once blazed a trail from Canada down to Lake Superior. Anne was under no illusions that this new enterprise held the latest in blackjack, bingo, and video slots designed to suck up a person’s hard-earned paycheck.

“You know, the dining room serves excellent apple dumplings.” Dr. Jefferies smiled at her, and she couldn’t help but notice a twinkle in his eye. “If we’re late driving back, maybe we can stop in.”

Anne nodded, debating how to respond wisely. Sharing dessert with a coworker wasn’t a date, was it?

“Okay, maybe,” she said. Perhaps Dr. Jefferies, with his safe, calm demeanor and a nicely constructed future, was just the medicine she needed to heal her wounded heart. “That would be nice.”

Granite River itself couldn’t be defined as a boomtown. The main street resembled something out of a Hollywood mock-up with a convenience store/gas station, a grocery store, a postal office/federal building, and the shabby clinic comprising the hub. A collection of micro single-family homes, with peeling siding and weed-rooted yards, spiraled out from the main drag on half-paved, half-dirt streets. Rusty bikes, broken yard toys, and fraying furniture littered the streets and occasional saggy porches. A few children sat on the cement front steps of a trailer, one playfully fighting with a dirty mutt for a rag.

Even the medical clinic had seen better days, judging by its weathered clapboard siding and the once-neon, green-and-white light over the door. The reservation felt as miserable as it looked, evident, for instance, from the empty eyes and drawn faces of two elderly men holding long-neck bottles as they lounged in front of the grocery store. Anne hoped it was root beer. She tried not to look at the old-timers but felt their probing gaze on her as she followed Dr. Jefferies into the clinic.

Jenny waited inside, wearing a pink nurse’s jacket over her jeans and T-shirt. Anne donned a similar jacket and tried to feel comfortable. Hard to do with twenty pairs of eyes on her. Three young mothers holding sniffling babies, an elderly couple, and two chubby middle-aged women sat in the cracked vinyl chairs. A handful of teenagers clumped in the corner. The tension felt oily and thick as she slipped into the supply room behind Jenny.

“Is it always this full?”

“Only once a month.” Jenny readied a tray of vials, swabs, alcohol swipes, and gloves. “Most are here for HIV tests. First Friday of every month, they’re free.”

She shoved the tray into Anne’s hands and trotted out of the room. While Anne stood there, openmouthed, her courage careening to her toes, Jenny called the first name.

To Anne’s dismay, one of the teenage girls stepped forward, hugging her skinny waist. Eyes downcast, her shiny black hair obscuring her face, she scuffed across the dirty linoleum floor in her clogs.