Bachelor Remedy
Carol Ross
She’s the most unconventional woman he’ll ever meet……and the cure for a perennial bachelor?Raised by her healer grandfather, former army medic Ally Mowak knows her alternative approach to traditional medicine puts her at odds with most of her Alaskan town. That includes Tag James, the rugged transport pilot with the sprawling family and political ambitions. Ally couldn’t be more wrong for the aspiring senator. Then why does everything feel so right when they’re together?
She’s the most unconventional woman he’ll ever meet...
and the cure for a perennial bachelor?
Raised by her healer grandfather, former army medic Ally Mowak knows her alternative approach to traditional medicine puts her at odds with most of her Alaskan town. That includes Tag James, the rugged transport pilot with the sprawling family and political ambitions. Ally couldn’t be more wrong for the aspiring senator. Then why does everything feel so right when they’re together?
CAROL ROSS lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. She is a graduate of Washington State University. When not writing, or thinking about writing, she enjoys reading, running, hiking, skiing, traveling and making plans for the next adventure to subject her sometimes-reluctant but always fun-loving family to. Carol can be contacted at carolrossauthor.com (http://www.carolrossauthor.com).
Also By Carol Ross
Summer at the ShoreChristmas at the Cove
Seasons of Alaska
A Family Like Hannah’s
If Not for a Bee
A Case for Forgiveness
Mountains Apart
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Bachelor Remedy
Carol Ross
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08494-9
BACHELOR REMEDY
© 2018 Carol Ross
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“Tell me how you really feel,” she asked.
It took a moment for Ally’s words to compute. Bees were swarming through his thoughts. Slowly, Tag tuned out the buzzing and focused on her lazy-lidded eyes and swollen lips.
Ally. So, so beautiful.
Wayward strands of her silky black hair stirred in the breeze. She looked thoroughly...kissed. What had he done? A sick feeling rushed in, dousing the heat that had been muddling his brain only seconds before.
“Ally, we...” We what? Not we, I. What had he done here? What could he do? Apologize? She’d kissed him, yes, but he’d let her. He’d more than let her; he’d kissed her back without even an ounce of restraint and precious little self-control. And that wasn’t like him. He’d never lost his mind quite like this before...
And she made him feel things he’d never felt before.
Dear Reader (#u0016d090-2868-56bb-81ea-65b2bb0d4795),
First of all, thank you for reading my books and reaching out in emails, on social media and through your reviews to let me know how much you enjoy them. I also love when you contact me asking if and when a certain character might be getting his or her own happy-ever-after.
I never imagined when I began this writing journey in Rankins, Alaska, that Tag James’s story would become the most requested. But with each book, I fell a little more in love with him right along with so many of you. So I knew when it was time to tell Tag’s story that he was going to have to fall for someone really special. I also knew that he was going to have to be knocked off his feet. Because he’s awesome, of course. But also because he’s a thirty-eight-year-old bachelor who’s a bit set in his ways. Bachelorhood is beginning to feel like an affliction for him. I think Ally Mowak is the perfect remedy. I hope you do, too.
You can reach me by visiting my website, carolrossauthor.com (http://www.carolrossauthor.com). Or email me at carol@carolrossauthor.com. Or find me on Facebook, Facebook.com/carolrossauthor (http://www.Facebook.com/carolrossauthor), Twitter, @_carolross (https://twitter.com/_CarolRoss), and Instagram, carolross_ (https://www.instagram.com/carolross__/).
Carol
For Janet.
Thank you. Without you, no one would even know it was me who’d written this book.
Contents
Cover (#u920770ff-37b4-50d9-b95f-2711c9f36856)
Back Cover Text (#u65da9a58-dc49-5831-ba0d-841053a2a6c4)
About the Author (#u981ea51d-333c-5eb3-b8ab-4503bc8ba910)
Booklist (#u77354484-72fe-548d-9ff6-ede93c74da32)
Title Page (#u67ddac80-7096-5428-8cbf-ed3ad2dd96d3)
Copyright (#uf60787bb-2cd7-5cef-8852-4f405455e918)
Introduction (#u1dd2116e-03e0-58e2-9114-b1eff047a8f3)
Dear Reader (#u27936d2d-0f2b-583f-9f50-f59598ecbfa6)
Dedication (#ufb88e489-578b-5753-a75c-7f4227ff02e7)
CHAPTER ONE (#ub80be3d7-69dc-5b25-bf45-ce08b19cd3fc)
CHAPTER TWO (#u6e41500d-e731-5aec-9853-adc054006ae8)
CHAPTER THREE (#ufcf841dc-1068-5cdb-ad6d-1b5df919bdaf)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uc84d6b36-ba8d-57cc-ab43-40fc9735f671)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ud47bc721-6e87-597d-bafe-8aee7034f4eb)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u0016d090-2868-56bb-81ea-65b2bb0d4795)
“HOW DOES IT feel to be dirt free?”
“Honestly?” Tag James gave his cousin Bering a sober look and whooshed out a breath. “I totally lucked out. Can’t believe that private investigator didn’t find out about the insider trading or the body buried in my backyard. What an amateur.”
Bering laughed. “I know. The background check seems a little over the top to me, too, but you know Jack.”
“Jack” was United States Senator Marsh, longtime client and friend of Bering’s, who was helping them prepare for Tag’s future political run.
“Yes, I do. ‘Find the dirt and clean it up before your opponent finds it first and smears it all over you.’ I believe that’s the quote?”
“That’s it,” Bering agreed. “Senator James...” the snap of the metal tape measure retracting in his hand was like a loud punctuation mark “...has such a nice ring to it.” Wielding a pencil in his other hand, he drew a tiny line on the freshly painted lavender-colored wall in his daughter’s bedroom.
“It certainly does,” Tag agreed. Despite his outward nonchalance, the topic always caused a twinge of nerves. Plenty of time, he reminded himself, before he needed to start worrying about it. Lots of time to prepare.
Wordlessly, they each took an end of a bookcase and adjusted it to line up with the pencil marks and the units they’d already installed. Tag wound the screws through the brackets, securing the shelving against the wall. Neither earthquake nor climbing toddler would bring it down now. “Violet proofing,” Bering’s wife, Emily, called it, although with baby Brady walking now, Tag figured she would soon have to broaden the term.
He stepped back and eyed his cousin. “And you’re sure you don’t want that senator title for yourself?”
“Ha. Positive. We’ve had this conversation, my friend, and you and I both know I’d be no good as a politician.”
Tag couldn’t dispute that fact. His cousin and best friend wasn’t exactly the most diplomatic person in the world. Besides, it was Tag’s turn. Bering had saved the town of Rankins once from a proposed massive oil-development project. He’d formed and led the coalition against Cam-Field Oil & Mineral, and with the backing of Senator Marsh, they’d prevailed.
Bering had scored the bonus of a lifetime by meeting his now-wife, Emily, during the antidevelopment campaign. As relieved as they’d all been at the project’s outcome, the experience had shown just how vulnerable Rankins was. Tag, Bering, their family and friends, virtually the entire area relied on the pristine natural beauty of the Opal River Valley in some respect for their livelihoods. His winning a seat in the state senate would provide long-term security for them all. And they’d agreed, Tag was more suited to political life.
“Anyway,” Bering said, bracing his big hands on a shelf to test its sturdiness. “Jack says you’re on the right track, doing everything you need to be doing. Just stay the course, keep your nose clean and we’ll be ready.”
“Got it. Stay out of the dirt.”
“Although he did mention one small thing.”
“What’s that?”
Bering let out a chuckle and began stacking kids’ books on the bottom shelf. “He said it could be helpful if Rankins’s most eligible bachelor was to find a wife and maybe start a family.”
Tag felt a familiar invisible hand reach inside his rib cage and give his heart a painful squeeze. This chest pinch had been happening more and more lately when the subject of parenthood came up, which was all too frequently now that Shay and Hannah, two of his four sisters, were married, as were his two closest cousins, Bering and his sister Janie. There were eight cousins in his generation on the James side of the family, and at thirty-eight, he was the oldest of them all.
The family bachelor. Everybody’s cool and fun uncle, cousin, brother, friend. The childless bachelor. The one everyone could count on. And, somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d earned the moniker of the town’s most eligible bachelor. Lately this unintentional status had begun to bother him. Tag loved kids. He’d always wanted a family, had just assumed it would happen one day. He’d meet someone and settle down and have kids. That’s the way it was done.
He’d met plenty of someones, all right. Problem was, either they weren’t quite right, or he wasn’t, or logistics like work schedules and geography made a relationship too difficult. Or a combination of these resulted in the woman cheating on him. Okay, maybe that one was just Kendall, his last girlfriend.
“I’ll get right on that,” he replied drily.
Bering shot him a hopeful glance. “If you mean it, Jack has someone he’d like to fix you up with.”
“No, thanks. No way.”
“Why not?”
“Seriously? You have no recollection of life pre-Emily, do you? Dating is bad enough. Blind dating is...brutal. I try not to be offended by the matches you people think will work out for me. Being single should not be the only criterion involved. A couple of weeks ago, Shay set me up with this uptight mortgage broker from Glacier City who hates sports and is afraid to fly.”
Bering grimaced. “I see your point. But until you start blind dating in the women’s professional basketball league you aren’t going to find a woman who can beat you at basketball. You do know that, right? You might need to cross that off your list.”
Tag laughed. “Hey, I’ll settle for a fan at this point. She doesn’t even have to play.”
“Tag!” Smashed, half-eaten sandwich in hand, Violet skipped into the room, her tousled blond curls and peanut butter–smeared cheeks the cutest thing he’d seen since his last visit three days ago.
“Violet, my flower, you woke up for me!” Tag picked her up and swooped her high into the air. Wild giggling ensued. Planting a kiss on her cheek, he asked, “You want to take a walk on the ceiling?”
She thrust the sandwich at her dad. “Daddy, can you hold this? Don’t eat it!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Bering grinned and took the sandwich.
Holding Violet securely at the waist, Tag flipped her upside down until her bootie-clad feet touched the ceiling. Still giggling, she carefully placed one foot in front of the other as Tag strode across the floor while she “walked” on the ceiling. When she’d crossed about half the room, he lowered her and turned her in his arms.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, eyes nearly the color of her name fixed firmly on him, she said, “I love walking on the ceiling. And I love you, too.”
A chest pinch of mega proportions nearly made him wince. “I love you, too, flower.” Tag wondered if men had biological clocks. A prick of sadness followed as he thought about his sister Shay and how desperately she wanted a child. She and her husband, Jonah, had recently suffered yet another adoption disappointment, and Tag was worried about the long-term repercussions on her. She seemed to be having a hard time recovering from this one emotionally.
“I think you’re her favorite person, Tag.” Emily stood in the doorway, eleven-month-old Brady on her hip. She followed that up with a quick “Don’t tell your sisters I said that.” Wearing black leggings and a long flannel shirt, her blond hair bunched into a cute, messy pile on top of her head, Emily didn’t look anything like the corporate executive she used to be. Although by all accounts she was a wizard in her current job as head of the Rankins Tourism Bureau.
“Are you guys wrapping it up? Lunch is ready.” Stepping inside, she surveyed the shelving they’d constructed and installed across one entire wall. “This looks incredible. It’s even better than I imagined. Thank you so much for helping, Tag.”
“Of course. Anytime. You know that.”
A buzz in his pocket followed by a distinct-sounding chime indicated a text from his business, Copper Crossing Air Transport. This particular alert had his paramedic’s pulse thumping because it told him that an emergency required medical evacuation.
“You need that sandwich to go?” Emily asked. His family members and most of his friends were familiar with the sound. And they all understood when plans were interrupted; there was no such thing as an inconvenience if it meant a life could be saved.
“That would be great, Em. Thanks.” Tag frowned as he read the brief message. A tap on his phone sent a return text letting his crew know they needed to get the float plane ready.
“Bad?” Bering asked.
“Grizzly bear.”
Bering winced and muttered under his breath.
“Oh, no!” Emily cried, one hand coming to rest possessively on Brady’s back.
No further explanation was necessary. Everyone who lived in Rankins, or the rest of Alaska for that matter, knew what those two words meant.
* * *
SO MUCH BLOOD. Too much to see exactly how much damage the bear had wrought. With nimble fingers, Ally Mowak probed her fifteen-year-old cousin Louis’s wounds. The dressings in her first aid kit weren’t going to go far, not with this amount of shredded skin. She slipped off her jacket as well as the thick fleece shirt beneath it. Using the knife she’d already wielded to cut away Louis’s tattered clothing, she went to work on her own, arranging strips of cloth on the worst of his wounds.
“Quinn?” she barked at the other teenager crouched beside her. Zombielike, he stared down at Louis. “Quinn, look at me.” Grabbing his shoulder, she gave it a shake. “See what I’m doing?”
Blinking slowly, Quinn managed to wrest his gaze from Louis.
Still cutting, she repeated, “See what I’m doing? How I’m making strips? I need you to do this with your sweatshirt, too. Do you understand?”
Blank eyes stared back at her. Ally feared he might pass out. Combat experience had taught her that the best way to handle a person on the verge of shock was to keep them moving—even better if you could give them a job to do.
“Quinn, I need your help here, kiddo.”
Louis let out a moan, hoarse and full of anguish.
That seemed to spur something in Quinn, and he nodded. He removed his top and held out a hand. Handle first, she passed him the knife. “It’s super sharp, okay?” she warned. “And hey.” Gripping his shoulder tightly until dark brown, terror-filled eyes met hers, she forced a confidence she didn’t feel into her tone. “He looks worse than he is. We will save him. But this is important. We need these strips to stop the bleeding.”
The sound of crunching leaves and snapping branches had her snatching up the bear spray at her side. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. Jessie and Ryder Shelton and their three monster-sized dogs, Colfax, Pia and Fife, emerged from the brush. Exhaling a relieved breath, she dropped the canister and focused her attention back on to her patient.
“That was fast,” she said. “I expected you to come across the lake.”
“The ATV was quicker.” Jessie knelt on the opposite side of Louis, already tearing into the packs of dressings she’d brought along. “We have a stretcher.”
Ally and her teenaged cousins Louis and Quinn had spent the morning fishing in Jessie’s canoe on Jasper Lake. A road accessed the scattering of homes located on the south shore of the lake, while the wooded northwestern shore could be reached only by boat or trail.
As lunchtime approached, she and the boys had paddled to this remote portion to eat and enjoy the view. Quinn had suggested a hike up a scenic trail that followed a winding stream past Sullivan’s Spring to Sullivan’s Falls. Round trip was only a few miles, and because they’d made it almost back to the spring when the bear attacked, Ally estimated they were now half a mile from the lake.
Thank the stars, she had her cell phone. Double and triple thanks that she had service and Jessie was around to hear the call. Jessie and Ryder ran a dog rescue facility, where Jessie rehabilitated injured and abused dogs, and Ryder trained service dogs for the police and military.
Ryder silently went to work on Louis’s neck and shoulder. After doing what they could on his front, they rolled him over so Ally could inspect his back. Relief surged through her. It didn’t appear that the bear had punctured the chest or abdominal cavity.
“Tag James is picking him up in his float plane,” Jessie said. “It’s the fastest way. The Coast Guard could send a search and rescue team with a hoist, but it would take longer. I already called.”
“Good.” Ally was relieved. The less jostling around for Louis, the better. “Let’s get him on the stretcher. I want to stop at the spring on the way to the lake.”
* * *
TAG CLIMBED OUT of the plane onto the pontoon and stepped into the shallow water of the lake. A few splashing strides and the pebbles of the shoreline were crunching beneath his booted feet. He hurried to where his friend Ryder stood nearby.
“Ryder, man, I’m glad to see you and Jessie here.”
Ryder was former military special forces and had medical training. Transport would go so much faster with his help since Tag didn’t have to apply first aid and stabilize the patient. Already on a stretcher and covered with a wool blanket, the wounded teenager looked ready for transport. A girl was crouched beside him, holding his hand. Jessie stood several feet away, talking with another boy.
“Hey, Tag. Feeling’s mutual,” Ryder said, giving his hand a quick shake.
Taking positions on each end of the stretcher, they quickly loaded the patient inside the plane while Ryder filled him in on the details of the attack. Tag didn’t notice the problem until they’d secured the stretcher inside. That’s when the blanket shifted, and instead of fresh white dressing, he saw dingy gray-and-brown strips, almost like...
Peeling the blanket back farther, he found a mass of dirty, albeit neatly arranged, bandages. What in the world? Had they dropped him? If so, why hadn’t they cleaned him up?
“Why is he so dirty? These bandages are filthy.”
“Ally did that,” Jessie explained. “Native healing thing. She says the clay in Sullivan’s Spring contains antibiotic properties and helps stanch the bleeding.”
Tag was familiar with the small mineral hot spring. Most people didn’t even know it was there. It wasn’t large enough to draw visitors. There were no deep or colorful pools to attract attention, but he’d heard about its purported healing properties for most of his life.
“Who is Ally?” he asked, although his keen powers of deduction were telling him she had to be the only other female who wasn’t Jessie. Initially he’d assumed she was a teenager, maybe the injured kid’s sister or girlfriend, as she’d been holding his hand and talking to him right up until they’d loaded him inside the plane.
Ryder’s brows shot up. “Ally Mowak? You haven’t met her yet?”
“No. Why would I have?”
“She’s the new hospital liaison in Rankins. I guess, technically, she doesn’t start until tomorrow.”
Tag glanced over to where Ally was hurriedly stuffing gear into a backpack. Pretty, and like Jessie, she appeared to be of Native American descent, as did the two boys. She was petite and fit, her silky black hair tied back in a ponytail, and she wore no makeup. He supposed she might not be as young as he’d assumed.
“How old is she?”
“Young. Twenty...something. Early twenties. Old enough to have served in the Army, including a couple of combat tours. She was a medic and then came home to earn her paramedic certification.”
“Huh.” Because of his affiliation with the hospital, he knew a liaison had been hired. Flynn Ramsey, a doctor at the hospital, had told him because the position entailed overseeing medical transport, which meant Tag would occasionally be working with the new person. Up until now, the task had been tacked on to Flynn’s already demanding schedule.
Tag watched as Ally slung the pack over her shoulder. The two women exchanged a brief hug, and then Ally turned and jogged toward the plane.
“Hey, pilot, let’s go!” she called, a note of impatience infusing her tone, as if he was the one who’d been holding them up. Without waiting for a response, she waded into the water, climbed nimbly onto the pontoon and scrambled inside the plane.
Tag called out thanks to Ryder and Jessie and followed, even though he wasn’t sure of their destination yet. Anchorage and Juneau both had excellent trauma units. Either way, he needed to call and inform them they were en route.
Turning around, he asked, “Alaska Regional or Bartlett?”
“Rankins,” she answered without hesitation.
“Rankins?” Was she serious? The kid had been mauled by a bear. “Are you sure? It’s a small hospital, and Juneau has—”
“I know how big the hospital is,” she answered in a tone as crisp as an ice chip. “He’s my patient. It’s my call.”
Giving his head a stupefied shake, he turned to focus on the plane’s controls. The only thing that kept him from arguing was the fact that he didn’t want to waste any time. The patient could be airlifted from Rankins if necessary. Although, at some point in the very near future, he and Ms. Mowak were going to have a conversation about patient transport protocol when he and his company were involved.
* * *
AS LOUIS DRIFTED in and out of consciousness, Ally held his hand, touched his cheek, told him stories, all the while closely monitoring his condition: listening to his breathing, checking his pulse, scanning every inch of him from head to toe and back again. There was some oozing through the dressings but no serious bleeding. She wished she could check the injuries on his back.
What she really wished was that she’d been there to protect them.
Ally had been lingering behind on the trail taking photos when she heard the boys’ screams. She’d sprinted toward the commotion, but by the time she’d arrived at the scene the bear was gone and the damage done. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a few seconds to appreciate how lucky Louis was to be alive. She still wasn’t sure why his injuries weren’t more severe. Ally was proud of him for keeping his head covered like he’d been taught, his scratched and raw forearms proof of the defensive move. A bear’s powerful jaws could remove a person’s entire face or crack the skull with a single bite, as easily as a nutcracker splitting an acorn.
Quinn said that in those few seconds of awareness before the attack he’d thought they were both dead. The boys had been standing maybe ten feet apart when they heard a noise in the brush behind them. They hadn’t had time to do more than turn before three-hundred-plus pounds of muscle, claws and teeth were charging toward them.
For whatever reason, the bear had gone for Louis first. As Quinn scrambled to retrieve his bear spray from the holster on his hip, the sow, seemingly distracted by something in the trees, had dropped Louis almost as quickly as she’d attacked and loped back into the brush. Probably her cubs, Ally theorized, as Quinn had seen two little ones scooting ahead of the bear’s retreating form.
It seemed like only a few minutes before the plane was descending toward the waters of the bay adjacent to the town of Rankins. After a smooth-as-glass landing, they were ferrying toward the dock. Red and blue lights from the waiting ambulance were a balm to the gnawing worry in her gut. She’d thoroughly assessed Louis’s injuries, but with the conditions and the limited resources in the field, she knew there was a chance she’d missed something.
With efficiency and care Ally approved of, the onshore team rushed Louis into the ambulance for the short ride to the hospital. She joined him inside and was soon handing her cousin off again, this time to a team of doctors and nurses.
Relief rushed through her when she saw Dr. Ramsey instead of Dr. Boyd. Like her, Flynn was new to Rankins Hospital but old to Alaska, meaning he’d grown up here, too. He was also sympathetic to traditional medical practices. He would understand the clay.
CHAPTER TWO (#u0016d090-2868-56bb-81ea-65b2bb0d4795)
“IN THIS HOSPITAL, Ms. Mowak, we don’t treat patients with dirt.” Dr. Robert P. Boyd leveled his glacier-blue glare at Ally. He even looked like ice, she decided, with his white hair and snowy-smooth skin. The sharp edges of his shoulders and elbows jutted against his white jacket.
So much for her hope that Dr. Boyd wouldn’t get wind of her use of clay on Louis’s wounds. Poof went her plan to ease into a relationship with the chief physician at Rankins Hospital.
Ally already knew that an education, even one as extensive as a doctorate, didn’t guarantee wisdom. Knowledge, sure. Wisdom, not so much.
Her grandfather, Abe Mowak, had been using medicinal clays on patients ever since Ally could remember. Clay from Sullivan’s Spring was among his most valued. She’d collected some for him last time she’d visited Jessie, which was how she’d gotten the idea to use it on Louis.
“As an Army medic and a paramedic, I know you’re aware of the proper treatment for lacerations and punctures of this severity.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dr. Ramsey informed me of the fact that the patient is a relative of yours, but that makes no difference where medical procedures in this hospital are concerned. I acknowledge that Louis’s mother, your aunt I understand, has no problem with it. But trust me when I tell you that family connections are no guarantee when it comes to lawsuits.”
Dr. Boyd flipped through a sheaf of papers on the desk in front of him. Best guess, the file contained her résumé, Army record and reference letters. Then again, there could be anything in there—photos of his grandchildren, sudoku puzzles, his grocery list. The point was to intimidate her. Obviously Dr. Boyd didn’t know her yet.
Flynn Ramsey, Ally’s supervisor and friend, sat beside her. He tilted his head and mouthed a silent “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Ally mouthed back and added a wink.
Dr. Boyd addressed her again. “In case you haven’t had time to consult the hospital’s policy, I’ve had my secretary highlight the portions...”
The reprimand continued, and after much longer than necessary, he finally quieted and looked at Ally expectantly. Apparently it was time for her to respond.
She’d love to tell him exactly what she thought of his antiquated opinions, but she knew better. “Actions heal, words incite” was one of her grandfather’s favorite sayings. But she couldn’t resist trying to plant a seed, at least.
“Have you heard of the antibacterial properties of mineral clay, Dr. Boyd?”
“That’s what antibiotics are for, Ms. Mowak. Perhaps you’ve heard of penicillin?”
Perhaps you’ve heard of MRSA, Dr. Boyd? The sarcastic retort tap-danced silently across her tongue. Ally knew that Rankins Hospital had battled a bout of the antibiotic-resistant staph bacteria a few months back. MRSA and other superbugs like it were a direct result of the overuse of antibiotics. But she didn’t say that, either. She wouldn’t want the inference to be that she thought Louis shouldn’t receive antibiotics. Dr. Boyd seemed like the word-twisting type.
Then there was the fact that this was her first day on the job, a job she’d been training for and working toward her entire life. Her grandfather had sacrificed so much for her. No way would she let him down by getting fired before she even started. She knew that technically Dr. Boyd alone couldn’t fire her. That decision would require a vote by the entire hospital board. But Dr. Boyd was the ultimate medical authority here at the hospital, and she knew that her job, as well as her overarching mission, would go so much smoother if she could establish a good relationship with him.
“Of course,” she responded. “I’m a huge proponent of antibiotics when administered correctly. I’m grateful Dr. Ramsey prescribed them for Louis.” Ally flipped an appreciative smile in Flynn’s direction.
Dr. Boyd sat back and studied her. His long surgeon’s fingers curled over the arms of his chair, where they twitched menacingly like two hungry albino spiders.
An awkward silence ensued. “Now, I realize this is your first day on the job as our new hospital liaison.”
“Yes, it is, sir. And I appreciate your taking the time to go over these important rules with me. Working here at Rankins Hospital is a dream come true, and I assure you I’ll do whatever is necessary to make a smooth transition, including rereading the handbook the hospital has provided and reviewing all of these highlighted notes.”
Dr. Boyd sniffed and adjusted his glasses. “That sounds fine.”
Ally thought he looked suitably defused, so she stood. “If there’s nothing further then, I’m anxious to get to work.”
* * *
APPROXIMATELY TWENTY MINUTES later Ally was still trying to calm down. Seated behind her new desk inside her new office, she read her new job description for about the millionth time. Certain sections seemed to glow from the pages, reminding her why she was here: To facilitate patient care regarding medical treatment, procedures, hospital stays and preventative care... Appropriate consideration must be taken regarding the age, gender, ethnicity and religious beliefs of the patient...
Simple words, yet so open to interpretation and incredibly challenging to implement. The knot already bunching in her stomach tightened. Did her grandfather know the monumental task she was facing here? Of course he did. She wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have faith in her.
From the depths of her soul, she believed there had to be a way for traditional and modern medicine to meet peacefully, to merge, even. Yet she knew, and both her grandfather’s and her own experiences had taught her, how difficult the concept was for some people to accept. She hadn’t intended to wave her opinions around her new workplace quite so blatantly, and wouldn’t have, if Louis wasn’t a relative.
A knock startled her out of her thoughts. Looking up, she saw a vaguely familiar male figure filling the open doorway. A tall figure, she couldn’t help but notice—very tall and lean. The Mariners T-shirt he wore predisposed her to like him, and she couldn’t help but appreciate the way it stretched nicely across his muscled chest. Longish dark brown hair curled over his forehead and at least a day’s growth of stubble shaded his jaw.
Handsome face, she noted, but it didn’t look like a happy one.
“Good morning, Ms. Mowak. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. Come on in.”
Long strides carried him into the room. “How’s your cousin?”
Now she had the feeling she should definitely know him. “He’s doing very well, thank you. He should be released in a day or two. Do you know Louis?”
One brow ticked up. “Just from yesterday.”
“Oh, were you part of the medical team treating him?”
He gave his head a little shake. “Ms. Mowak, I met you yesterday. Pilot?”
“Your name is Pilot? I have a cousin named Jett.”
One hand came up to scrub his chin. “No, I was the pilot who flew you and your cousin in from Jasper Lake.”
That was it. “Oh, yes, of course. Mr....?” Had he ever said his name?
“Tag. Tag James. From Copper Crossing Air Transport.”
“Sorry, I didn’t...remember you.”
“Yeah, I got that,” he answered flatly.
Ugh. This was uncomfortable, although she wasn’t sure why exactly. She recalled the brief interchange about which hospital to fly to and realized she might have been a tad short with him.
“Your landing was excellent, by the way. That, I remember.”
“My landing?” He repeated the word like he hadn’t quite heard her correctly.
“Yes. In the bay. You’re obviously a competent pilot.”
“Competent?” The word came out slowly while his brows dipped down along with the corners of his mouth. He looked baffled. He crossed his arms over his chest and kept them locked there.
Hmm. Was he offended that she hadn’t recognized him? Or put out because she’d overridden his suggestion to go to a larger hospital? When she shifted into rescue mode, she tended to become hyperfocused on her patient and the circumstances surrounding the emergency at hand. And yesterday’s patient had been Louis, a family member, which had heightened both her concentration and concern. She felt it unnecessary to explain this.
“I apologize that I didn’t recognize you?” she said, and immediately realized that it came out sounding more like a question. Ally didn’t believe in superfluous apologies, or conversations, for that matter. She found them both a waste of time, and hers was at a premium.
With more smirk than smile, he said, “I can assure you I am more than competent, Ms. Mowak.”
Oh, brother. She should have seen that coming, pilots and their egos. Her second oversize ego of the day. At least this guy wasn’t her boss.
“Mr. James, what can I help you with?”
“Please call me Tag. I’m here to discuss the flight yesterday. Do you remember anything besides my competent landing? Do you have problems with your short-term memory I should be aware of?”
Ally felt a stir of dismay. Carefully, she answered each question and then followed with one of her own. “Of course. No, I don’t. And what about the flight?”
“Specifically, I’m here to talk about how your new position as hospital liaison affects me and the patients I transport, as per my business arrangement with the hospital.”
“I see.”
“Do you?”
“This is about the clay?”
“Partially. Not entirely. I have more than one issue.”
Oh, good, she thought wryly. She was about to get grief from the pilot, too. Who was next? The charge nurse hadn’t accosted her yet. But it was early, not even lunchtime. Patiently she waited for him to continue.
“If we’re going to work together I think we need to establish some ground rules.”
“I agree.”
He got right to it. “I don’t have issues with alternative medicine per se—herbal, Ayurvedic, naturopathic, homeopathic, acupuncture, Reiki or any other type of traditional remedy, for that matter, is fine with me. I don’t care or interfere with what people believe or how they choose to treat their medical conditions. What I do have a problem with is when it directly affects my job, and more specifically, my ability to save a life.”
“And you feel like my use of medicinal clay falls into the latter category?”
“I do.”
“Please keep in mind that yesterday I was treating a family member in an emergency situation. I wasn’t on the job.”
“I understand that, which is why I’m here instead of in Dr. Boyd’s office.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Even though I do not understand why you would purposely put your cousin in danger.”
“Obviously, I don’t see it that way.”
“Obviously. You can see it any way you choose. But for the duration of time that we’ll be working together I need you to do it my way. My way is the right way.”
“Noted,” she replied calmly. “My turn.”
“What?”
Ally almost laughed at his look of utter confusion. “You said we were establishing ground rules. You gave me yours. If this works the way I think it does, then it’s my turn to outline my rules?”
Narrowing his gaze, he studied her like he was puzzling out this detail. His eyes burned into hers, and she couldn’t tell if they were green or brown. Inexplicably, the back of her neck began to tingle.
“Do you want to have a seat?” she asked, partially to stop his perusal, partially to bring him closer to her eye level. If Dr. Boyd hadn’t intimidated her, there was no reason this guy should. But it might be easier to manage if he wasn’t hovering over her.
“Fine.” Moving closer, he lowered his tall frame into the seat across from her.
Better, she thought, meeting his gaze head-on. Except now he seemed really...close.
Gathering her thoughts, she said, “When I’m out on a call and acting as the paramedic on behalf of Rankins Hospital my word is final. My way is the right way. I also have some ideas on how you can improve your efficiency. It took you too long to take off after you landed at the lake.”
He scoffed. “Are you kidding me? The only thing holding up my takeoff was you chatting with Jessie while I waited for you by the plane.”
Hands folded neatly on the desk in front of her, she went on. “I disagree. It took three minutes for you to get inside the plane and settled after I’d already boarded, and your dissension took at least another minute. Had you already been on board, we would have landed approximately five minutes sooner. I don’t think I need to remind you how vital five minutes can be in an emergency medical situation.”
Ally waited for him to respond, steeling herself for whatever came next. He didn’t look angry or upset, though. In fact, he was completely still. Too still?
“Hmm. You know what? Coming here might not have been the best idea, after all. Because I don’t need professional advice from someone who was still in grade school while I was getting my EMS certification.”
* * *
TAG WISHED HE could take the words back before they were even out of his mouth. A flicker of something was there and gone from her face faster than the beat of a swallow’s wing. Disgust maybe? Which he might deserve. Bering was right. Normally, Tag was the easygoing, slow to boil, diplomatic one.
Admittedly, he’d come here geared up for a possibly unpleasant conversation, but a professional one. Ally Mowak didn’t seem to have any problem maintaining a professional tone, whereas he’d just blown it. Her expression remained as unreadable as a slab of granite, and he couldn’t help but think he’d disappointed her in some profound way. Or maybe that was his own disappointment nibbling at him.
When she didn’t speak, he let out a sigh and tried backtracking, “What I was trying to say is that I don’t need anyone to advise me on how to do my job, Ms. Mowak. I’ve been at this a very long time.”
“Ally,” she said. “Please call me Ally. And the same goes for me.” Shrugging a shoulder, she continued in that same serene, not-quite-condescending way that he was fast learning was how she spoke. “But isn’t that what you’re really doing here now? Telling me how to do my job?”
“Uh, no.” He resisted the urge to scratch his itchy scalp because he sort of was, wasn’t he? He hadn’t meant to, not exactly. “That wasn’t my intention, anyway.”
“Did you or did you not see a woman who you interpreted as too young for this job and then decided that you’d teach her a thing or two? You, with your wisdom honed from years of experience, would come to the aid of an inexperienced, newbie female colleague?”
“No!” That he was not doing. “Nope. No way. Don’t even try that on me.”
“Don’t try what on you?”
“There’s no misogyny or ageism or sexism or racism or any other ‘ism’ going on here. I have four sisters and a boatload of female cousins, all of whom are younger than me. Each one is equally as smart and capable as I am, more so in many, many ways. This isn’t about any of that. This is about your workplace attitude, your approach and your lack of respect. After your behavior yesterday, I would have come in here today if you were an eighty-six-year-old man wearing a honey badger suit.”
One side of her mouth twitched. Only slightly, and he probably would have missed the movement if he wasn’t so intent on watching her, marveling at her composure.
“I don’t see how my attitude plays into this. My approach was honed through four years of military service, a civilian EMS-P certification, and a decade and a half of studying and practicing under the tutelage of a renowned medical expert. And as far as respect goes, I subscribe to the ‘respect is something you earn’ school of thought. And you being here right now and complaining about nonissues isn’t helping on that front.”
“Your résumé already got you this job, Ms. Mowak. You don’t need to recite it for me, and the fact that you are speaks to your insecurity, which I’m guessing has something to do with your attitude. Your approach is my concern because I have to work with you. And the respect I’m talking about is the respect you should innately have toward a fellow medical professional whose job and reputation you put on the line because you chose to smear mud all over a patient.”
“It’s clay.” Her tone was flat, but her shapely black brows arched higher and Tag had no idea what that look was supposed to convey.
Waving a hand, he said, “Whatever. Since we’re sharing our qualifications, I am going to give you a piece of advice based on my eighteen years of experience as an EMS-P, my fifteen years as a volunteer firefighter, and a lifetime as both a friend and a big brother. If you don’t want people to notice your age, don’t draw attention to it.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“That’s true. But I—” Biting back the words he’d been about to say—I’m not used to people questioning my skills—he went with “I shouldn’t have. For that, I apologize.”
A head tip told him she acknowledged the mea culpa.
Exhaling, he checked the time on his watch. This meeting had been an epic fail, and he had no hope of turning it around at this point. He’d promised his sister Hannah he’d give her a hand with some repairs up at the ski resort this morning before his flight to Anchorage at noon. He needed to wrap this up.
“For now, I’m going to quit wasting both our time. Maybe we should meet with Dr. Ramsey and talk about our professional expectations?”
“That would be fine.”
“Good. I’ll set it up.”
* * *
ALLY STARED AFTER HIM. At least he’d suggested the meeting with Flynn and not Dr. Boyd. She had no more time than that to dwell on it, though, because the phone on her desk let out a buzz. She answered it and proceeded to deal with the first call for the job she’d actually been hired to do. She tackled paperwork and fielded calls until lunchtime, when she placed one of her own to Louis’s mom, her aunt Gina, who Ally knew was sitting vigil in his room.
Quinn was there, too, she learned, so she headed to the hospital’s cafeteria and ordered cheeseburgers, fries and strawberry shakes for them all. In the room, she was heartened to see Louis already sitting up, laughing and chatting with Quinn. At least she’d made the right call regarding his injuries.
When her break was over, she said goodbye to her family and promised to stop by again when she could. The afternoon was spent visiting patients and their families, assessing their needs and making notes about any questions or concerns they had regarding hospital, hospice or at-home health care.
The interaction with patients revived her, reminding her why she wanted this job. Back at her office, she immediately began cataloging the patients’ needs while they were fresh in her mind. One was ready for palliative care, so she called the hospice and set up a meeting for the patient and her family.
The remainder of her day consisted of more phone calls, emails, strategizing, and plotting out her to-do list and schedule for the next week. Just past six, a knock sounded on her door and relief flooded through her when she discovered this one had a much friendlier form attached to it than the morning’s.
“Flynn, hi.”
A dimpled grin transformed the young doctor’s already handsome face into a combination of sweet and gorgeous. Too bad she thought of him like family. With no siblings of her own, he was as close to a big brother as she could imagine. Their grandfathers were friends, so Ally and Flynn had known each other since childhood.
Flynn’s grandfather—“Doc,” as he was more commonly known in Rankins—had always welcomed her grandfather’s advice as a Native healer and doctor. Likewise, Abe had never had a problem calling on Doc when modern medicine was needed. A friendship had sprung up early in both of their respective careers, one based on mutual respect.
An image of Tag James flashed into her mind, embarrassment rushing through her because she realized in that moment that he’d been right about one thing: she’d been so concerned about his respecting her that she hadn’t shown him the respect he deserved.
Lowering himself into the chair Tag James had occupied that morning, Flynn said, “Hey. Good job with Dr. Boyd.”
“Thank you. I only wish all of my confrontations today could have gone as smoothly.”
Eyebrows a shade darker than his seal-brown hair darted up on his forehead. “Uh-oh. What else?”
“Among other affronts, I was told I need to work on my attitude.”
Scrunching his features into a grimace, he said, “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Not by a patient, though?”
“Of course not! It was a colleague. Although, in thinking about it now, I may have deserved part of it.”
“Well, honestly...” he drawled, pursing his lips as if thinking about the statement. “I’m not that surprised. You know you’re not exactly warm and fuzzy, right? Outside of patient care, I mean.”
“Yes, but I think basically this guy was telling me that he didn’t like me. Right before he made a crack about my age.”
“Ooh. How politically incorrect of him. I know how much you hate that.”
“Right? He apologized, but for some reason I let it get to me. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” Working with her grandfather at his medical clinic, Ally had been given a lot of responsibility at a young age. She’d joined the Army at seventeen, but she’d looked even younger, so she’d grown accustomed to people asking about her age. At twenty-two, it was still a common occurrence. “I thought I was. But this guy...”
Why did she care what he thought? She didn’t, she reminded herself. She didn’t care what anyone thought about her. But she would apologize properly because they needed to work together.
“Never mind, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m using my energy to focus on the future. And right now, I’m focused on that dinner you promised.” Ally logged off her computer. “I believe fish and chips were mentioned?”
“Lucky you.” He held his hands aloft as if he were a prize she’d won. “That’s what I’m here for.”
She stood and stretched before stepping over to the corner behind her desk to fetch her bag.
“Speaking of the future—do you want to go to a party with me this weekend?”
“What kind of party?”
“It’s a welcome home, congratulations on getting your graduate degree party for my friend Iris. Casual, fun and there will be a ton of people.”
A party was exactly what she needed to meet people, make some connections, become a part of the community. She wanted people to get to know her before hearing about her and reaching the wrong conclusions, although she knew the “mud story” had probably already raced through town faster than a staph infection in an untreated wound.
“That would be wonderful, Flynn. Thanks.”
CHAPTER THREE (#u0016d090-2868-56bb-81ea-65b2bb0d4795)
“WE’RE GOING TO the Cozy Caribou,” Flynn said after they exited the hospital. By silent mutual consent, they paused to admire the water of the bay sparkling below them like freshly ground glass. Thick green forest fanned out from snow-capped mountains jutting upward in the distance.
“See that red roof over there?” He pointed toward the middle of town, and Ally couldn’t help but notice the rectangular-shaped building situated roughly in the center. It seemed to be a pretty big place by small-town standards, certainly in relation to Saltdove, the remote village she’d grown up in, where there were exactly two “large” buildings, neither of which would ever be described as such.
“It would be difficult to miss. Let’s walk?”
Flynn nodded and took off at an unhurried pace. “This kind of evening makes me remember why I love it here.”
Ally agreed it was gorgeous. She’d only visited Rankins a few times before moving here, and she enjoyed the walk, seeing the tiny historic town through Flynn’s enthusiastic eyes as he pointed out businesses and landmarks, adding fun facts and anecdotes.
And clearly, Flynn wasn’t the only resident proud of their little town. Evidence of Rankins’s heritage was everywhere. They passed old fishing boats and equipment, vintage logging and mining tools, all strategically displayed and interspersed with newer, attractive sculptures and wood carvings. Along with the eclectic mix of building styles, the layout provided a pleasing glimpse of the town’s interesting and varied past.
Flynn said, “So, in case you don’t already know, the Cozy Caribou is an institution here.”
She gestured for him to go on.
“Half bar, half restaurant and all-around community gathering place, it can accommodate pretty much any event you can imagine—concerts, reunions, receptions, parties and meetings. They have karaoke nights and even an occasional poetry reading. Food is simple, home cooked and across-the-board fantastic, including the best fish and chips on the entire planet, and freshly brewed root beer that will make you forget your own name.”
Ally grinned. “Sounds like my kind of place.”
Flynn opened the door for her, and the second she stepped inside she knew it was true. The tension of the day began to recede as welcoming sounds bombarded them from all directions: laughter mixed with music while the slide-and-chime of dish on dish was accented by clinking silverware. Across the wide space and off to one side were a couple of pool tables. At the far end of the room a game of darts was in full swing. A group of women was seated at a large table nearby.
“Ah,” he said, following her gaze. “Friends of mine. Come on—I’ll introduce you to some of the nicest people. Most of them will be at the party Saturday, too.”
They approached the group and Flynn turned on his grin, gesturing around helplessly. “Uh-oh, I think I’m walking into a girls’ night thing here, aren’t I?”
A pretty blonde answered. “Well, it is girls’ night, but you can join us because you’re not one of our men and only if you don’t speak about any of them tonight. I happen to have argued with mine, and I don’t want his name mentioned.”
She reached out a hand toward Ally. “Hi, I’m Emily.”
Ally shook it. “Hi, Emily. Ally.”
Flynn draped an arm over Ally’s shoulder. “So, everyone, like Ally just said, this is Ally Mowak.” He started with the opposite side of the table where two look-alike women sat side by side. “Ally, this is Hannah and Shay. Sisters, in case you couldn’t tell.”
To the women, he added, “Ally is coming to Iris’s party with me this weekend.” He turned back to Ally. “Hannah owns and manages Snowy Sky Resort and JB Heli-Ski. Shay is the owner of the Faraway Inn and Restaurant.”
Anyone would guess the women were related; they both had long brown hair and nearly identical golden-brown eyes, over which the same sweeping brows arched gently. Matching smiles accented sculpted jawlines. Something seemed vaguely familiar about them, yet she was sure she’d never met the women.
Flynn was gesturing toward the other side of the table. “And this is Adele and Janie. Adele is Shay and Hannah’s cousin and manages the Faraway Restaurant. Janie owns a knitting business and simultaneously wrangles five children, while Emily here—” he indicated the woman she’d already met “—is president of the Tourism Bureau.” Next, he pointed to the woman seated beside Janie. “This is Laurel, owner and editor of the town’s newspaper, the Rankins Press.”
Ally felt like she’d walked into the middle of a chamber of commerce meeting instead of a girls’ night out.
“Nice to meet you, Ally,” Hannah said with a warm smile. “Was Flynn saying somewhere in there that you know our sister Iris?”
“No, I just know Flynn. He knows your sister. Flynn and his grandfather are pretty much the only people I know in Rankins.”
“How do you two know each other?” Laurel asked, glancing at Flynn’s hand still draped over her shoulder. Ally was pretty sure she wasn’t imagining the curiosity shining in more than one pair of eyes.
Flynn explained, “Ally is like a little sister to me. Our grandfathers go way back. Ally’s grandpa Abe is friends with Doc.”
A few more minutes of small talk went by before Flynn said, “We should go get a table. Ally started a new job at the hospital today, and we’re both starving.”
“Sit with us. Seriously,” Emily said, “we’d love to have you. We’re really not that strict on the girls-only rule.”
The waitress appeared to deliver food. Flynn quickly placed their orders and rounded up two chairs while the women shifted and made room at the table.
Easy conversation ensued until a blond man with a bright smile and boyish good looks sauntered over to their table. “Hey, since Doc Junior here is horning in on your girls’ thing, does that mean I can, too?” He twirled a finger around the table.
Adele scoffed. “Absolutely not.”
“Women and men, Park. No boys allowed,” Hannah said and bit off the end of a french fry.
“Ladies, come on...” he drawled. But his grin suggested that he loved the attention. “It’s been days, hasn’t it, since we’ve bonded like this? I know you’ve missed me.” He seemed to be talking to Hannah and Adele, but they all laughed.
“So, Hannah, how about a game of pool?” he asked.
Adele laughed. Hannah’s chin jerked up as if she was studying the ceiling, but she brought it back down quickly to peer at him. “Seriously, Park?”
“Yes! Please, Hannah. Come on! I’ve been practicing, watching videos on YouTube. Pretty sure I’ve got this.”
“Fine. One game. No bets.”
He huffed. “I know, I know. My betting days are over.”
“Get me a root beer float, and I’ll meet you at table two when those guys finish their game.” She pointed at one of the tables currently in use.
“Awesome.” Park hustled off, presumably to claim the table and fetch Hannah’s drink.
Adele smiled at Ally and Flynn. “Park once lost $500 to Hannah on a pool bet. They were enemies for ages until Hannah saved him from a probable jail sentence and financial ruin. Now they’re friends.”
“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Hannah said, but her voice held enough gentleness that Ally knew it was true. “He’s on Snowy Sky’s board of directors, but he’s still a royal pain in the butt.”
A shout rang out from the crowd playing darts, drawing the attention of most of the table.
Hannah turned in her chair and started to stand but immediately sat down again, wincing as she settled sideways on the seat. She busied herself riffling through her bag, but Ally wasn’t fooled.
With the collective focus still on the dart game ruckus, Ally felt confident no one was paying attention, so she lowered her voice and asked, “Are you okay? Is it your knee?”
Hannah’s eyes widened slightly before giving her leg an absent pat. “Oh...yes, it is, but I’m fine. Just an old injury.”
“What type of injury?”
Her expression went blank in a way that reminded Ally of herself when someone was prying into her business.
Ally bit back a smile. “Sorry, I’m not being nosy. Well, I am, but only because I’m a medical professional. Maybe I can...”
Before she could think of how to phrase the rest of her explanation, Hannah said, “Thank you for the offer, but I’ve seen so many doctors... It’s a form of arthritis caused by having my leg crushed in a car accident and then pieced back together.”
“What treatments have you tried?”
Hannah glanced toward the pool table where the guys were still playing before facing Ally again with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Do you... Are you like a naturopath or an osteopath or something?”
“No, nothing like that. I’m not a doctor. I’m a paramedic. Currently, I’m working as the hospital liaison and the emergency air medical coordinator. But I’m also... My grandfather, Abe Mowak, is a Native healer. He practices a form of holistic medicine, and one of his specialties is arthritis. I studied with him my entire life.”
Ally knew she needed to tread carefully here. But she trusted her instincts and they rarely failed her. “This would just be a...discussion,” she finally said. “Like I’d have with a friend.”
Hannah seemed to ponder that before replying, “You know what? I’ll think about it. Right now, I need to go humiliate Park.”
* * *
TAG LIVED OUTSIDE Rankins on twenty-two tree-studded acres located approximately halfway between Bering and Emily’s place, which was a few miles away, and the town of Rankins in the opposite direction. Two years ago, the property had become available, and Tag had snagged it. With a family in mind, he’d built the house mostly himself, a roomy two-story lodge-style home. There were four bedrooms, one of which he used as an office, two and a half bathrooms, a spacious living area and, according to his cousin Janie, a “kitchen that would make a foodie drool.” He’d indulged in some extras like hardwood floors, exposed wood beams, copper sinks and a hot tub.
Upon finishing the house, he’d been surprised by two things: how much he looked forward to getting home each evening and how much he wished he had someone to share it with. Interesting double edge. Tonight, tired as he was, he was solely focused on the first, although it wouldn’t happen for at least a couple more hours. He had a stop to make.
Mickey Patterson had been his high school basketball coach, and Mickey’s wife, Sheila, his third-grade teacher. They owned the property next door, and even though Tag couldn’t see their house from his, that still made them neighbors. Mickey’s arthritis was gradually slowing him down, and Tag often lent him a hand with projects and tasks around his property.
As he approached the Pattersons’ driveway, a brand-new for-sale sign on the opposite side of the road caught his eye, and he braked, slowing the pickup to a crawl. Why would Park Lowell be selling his property? A shareholder and member of Snowy Sky Resort’s board of directors, Park had told anyone who’d listen that he planned to build his dream home out here.
He turned, traveling along the Pattersons’ long gravel drive until he reached their home. Parking behind Mickey’s rig, he then grabbed two hockey sticks from his back seat before scaling the steps of the porch.
Mickey opened the door before Tag could knock, stepped out and closed it behind him. Tone muted with anxiety, he said, “Thanks again for helping me out with this, Tag.”
“You know I don’t mind, Mick.”
“She’s real stubborn and uncooperative. I couldn’t get her to so much as flinch.”
“She’s determined, I’ll give her that. It might be time to move her out once and for all?”
“’Fraid so. I hate to saddle you with it.”
“It’s no problem.” Tag handed Mickey one of the hockey sticks. “Let’s go see if we can talk some sense into her.”
They headed toward the small workshop a short walk from Mickey’s house. Tag spotted the prickly female huddled calmly in the corner as soon as they entered the building. But, then again, a critter covered with quills didn’t have much reason ever to get riled.
Twenty minutes later, without incident, they’d herded the wayward porcupine into a pet carrier.
Mickey seemed pleased. “Time for a beer?”
“Sure.”
They settled at the dining room table. A Mariners game was on the TV in the living room beyond, and Tag noted happily that the team was up by two.
“Hey, I noticed a for-sale sign on Park Lowell’s place. Know anything about that?”
“Yep. I guess he’s selling. Goofy bird thinks he can get twice what he paid for it.”
“Really?” It used to be that Park was always up to one money-making scheme or another, but after he’d tangled with Hannah over a ploy involving the ski resort, Tag had thought those days were past.
“Yeah, I ran into town to have coffee with Scooter Tomkins yesterday. It’s listed with Nadine, and she told Scooter how much he wants for it.” Nadine was Scooter’s sister and the owner of Rankins Realty, the largest of the two real estate agencies in the valley.
“Huh.”
“I know. I’m surprised, too. Supposed to start on his house right about now. Wasn’t too happy about having him for a neighbor, but Scooter said some highfalutin couple already checked the property out. And I generally subscribe to the better-the-devil-you-know philosophy.”
“Me, too, Mick,” Tag agreed. “Me, too.”
* * *
PORCUPINE RELOCATION COMPLETE, Tag finally pulled into his own driveway. He was looking forward to heating up the leftovers that Emily had given him, putting his feet up and watching the last couple of innings of the ball game. As soon as he saw his cousin Janie’s SUV parked out front, though, he remembered he’d made another commitment.
Inside his house, he found Janie’s son Gareth watching the game. A basketball, the teen’s constant companion, sat on the sofa next to him like an important guest.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. I had to relocate that problem porcupine for Coach P.”
Gareth laughed. “No problem. I just got here, like, five minutes ago. Where did you take it?”
“About ten miles up toward Glacier City. I’m hoping it won’t be motivated enough to come back upstream no matter how tasty Mick’s saplings are. You want some dinner before we shoot? Emily sent me home with enough lasagna for a week.”
“Sure. Only a couple innings left in the game and it’s tied.”
A basketball scholarship was taking Gareth all the way to the University of Oregon. Tag liked to think he deserved a tiny piece of the credit for developing the kid’s skills. He’d put a ball in Gareth’s hands almost as soon as he could walk and then taken the brunt of Janie’s ire when the toddler dropped it and face-planted right over it. Instead of crying, Gareth had immediately stood and patted the ball, giving credence to Tag’s claim that Gareth was dribbling at nine months old.
Janie’s first husband had died when Gareth and his younger brother, Reagan, were in middle school and she’d been pregnant with twins. For two years, until she married her current husband, Aidan, she’d been a single mom. Tag and Bering had done their best to pick up the slack.
Basketball was Tag’s sport, too, and he loved that it had become his and Gareth’s thing. He wondered how much longer he could fool the kid into believing Tag was still the better player.
“Did you hear back about that camp?”
“Yep, I’m in.”
“Awesome.”
“Coach said the best thing I can do now is have a ball in my hand every day between now and next season.”
“He’s right about that.”
“I need to work on my outside shooting. Which reminds me, did you hear we’re having a basketball tournament on Saturday at Iris’s party?”
Tag’s three youngest siblings were triplets, of which Iris was one. Hazel and Seth were the other two. The party was at Bering and Emily’s. Years ago, Tag and Bering had installed a regulation-sized basketball half-court. Games and tournaments were a regular and eagerly anticipated part of their lives.
Tag grinned. “That should be fun. Edible prize from the Donut Den?”
“Yeah, but Mom said we can’t be on the same team anymore.”
Tag scowled. “Who made her boss?”
“Emily. She put Mom in charge of the teams and the bracket.”
“Well, in that case, we’re screwed.” As a former corporate executive for one of the largest oil and mineral extraction companies in the country, Emily’s charm and organizational skills, combined with the sheer force of her will, left no room for argument.
Gareth chuckled his agreement. “Yeah, but the party will be epic.”
CHAPTER FOUR (#u0016d090-2868-56bb-81ea-65b2bb0d4795)
FRIDAY, THE LAST day of Ally’s first week on the job, and she’d only been in her office a few minutes when Flynn popped his head in.
“Hey, you got a second?”
“For you? Always.”
He came in and took a seat. “A couple of things. First—don’t forget we have a party to go to tomorrow.”
“I haven’t. I’m looking forward to it. You said it’s an outdoor thing, right?”
“Yes, and I’m glad you brought that up. Wear comfortable shoes.”
“What, like hiking boots or flip-flops?”
“No, like sneakers. We’ll be playing basketball. Bering and Emily have a half-court, and there’s going to be a little tournament.”
“Got it. That sounds fun.”
“Next thing, we have a patient who is going to be transported to Anchorage this afternoon.”
“Yesterday’s rock-climbing accident?” Two injured climbers had been brought in the day before after suffering a bad fall.
“Yes, a doctor in Anchorage is going to perform surgery on that shattered leg. I know you’ve had a long week and this will be your first transport. Do you want me to see if I can get one of the paramedics at the station to do it?”
“No, I got it.”
“Okay, it’s scheduled for two. When Tag arrives with the helicopter, I’ll page you, and we’ll go from there.”
Ally’s stomach did a flip. Tag James had been lingering in the back of her mind all week. She’d been waiting to hear about the meeting he’d requested with her and Flynn. She had polished her apology and wanted to get it off her chest.
Careful to keep her tone neutral, she asked, “He flies helicopters, too?”
“Yep. I don’t think there’s a flying machine out there that Tag doesn’t know how to operate—small planes, float planes, big planes, gliders, helicopters. I don’t know that he’s licensed for commercial jets, but I’m sure he could fly one.”
“Was he in the air force or something?”
“No, he’s just really accomplished. In a family filled with overachievers, Tag is the standard-bearer. You remember him, right? He brought Louis in last weekend?”
She sighed and said flatly, “Oh, I remember him, all right.”
“Uh-oh. Wait...was he the person who commented about your attitude?”
“And my age, yes. I have a feeling this is going to be a long day.”
Flynn sat back in his chair and chuckled. “Huh.”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that everyone loves Tag. Great guy. Pillar of the community type. He’s also one of Dr. Boyd’s favorite people.”
“Figures,” she muttered. “Pod mates, those two.”
“Uh, not exactly. Tag is just easy to get along with. Usually.”
“Hey, I’m... I can be easy to get along with, too.”
“You can be, sure...”
Ally gave him her best menacing glare.
They shared a laugh, and then Flynn said, “Ally, seriously, it would behoove you to get along with him. Pull out the charm, which I know is difficult, but which I also know you’re capable of.”
“I’m going to try, Flynn. I promise.” Wondering if Flynn had forgotten, she asked, “Did he contact you about setting up a meeting? We agreed to settle our professional, um, discrepancies under your guidance.”
“Nope. Haven’t heard from him, although...”
She waved him on impatiently. “What? Spit it out.”
“It’s a good idea, I think. He does have a lot of experience.”
She scowled. “As do I.”
“Hey, settle down there,” Flynn teased, raising a conciliatory hand, fingers spread, palm out. “I know you do. All I’m saying is that medicine is collaborative, or it should be. You know that. You also know from working with Abe your entire life that not everyone thinks or believes the way you do. We talked about this before you took the job.”
“I know. I do know that, Flynn. I just wish a different pilot was doing this transport today.”
Slowly he tipped his head, like a thought was occurring to him. “This party tomorrow, it’s for his sister Iris. Did you know that?”
“No.” It figured. Just her luck. Small towns.
Flynn peered at her for a few seconds. “Is this computing? Those women you met the other night, at the Cozy Caribou? Most of them are related to Tag. He has relatives all over this town.”
Ally’s brain went into overdrive. This meant Iris’s sisters, Shay and Hannah, were also Tag’s sisters? Meaning she’d initiated a discussion with his sister Hannah about her arthritis that, had the conversation taken place, would have included mention of alternative treatments.
Yikes. Based on their initial encounters, Tag would not approve. Ally was almost relieved that Hannah hadn’t taken her up on her offer. Almost, because, she reminded herself, she didn’t care what he thought of her. At least today’s excursion would give her a chance to apologize before encountering him in a social setting.
A small smile played on Flynn’s lips. “You know, most women in this town wouldn’t consider it such a hardship to spend the afternoon with him.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, he’s generally considered the one to catch around here.”
“The one to catch?” She repeated the statement flatly.
“Rankins’s most eligible bachelor.”
What did that mean? That he was some kind of player or that he wasn’t? “Huh. Well, I’m not most women, am I?”
Flynn barked out a laugh. “That you are not. I gotta get going. Promise me you’ll make nice with Tag James?”
“I promise I’ll...try.”
* * *
TAG WAS SURPRISED when he arrived at the hospital to find that the patient wasn’t ready for transport. His inclination was to seek out Dr. Ramsey, although he knew the task now fell under Ally Mowak’s job description.
With flashbacks of their last meeting flickering uncomfortably before him, he headed to Ally’s office only to find that she wasn’t in.
Tag gritted his teeth as he realized they’d never had that meeting with Dr. Ramsey. He’d headed back to the office that day and asked his assistant, Ivy, to schedule it. But that same evening Ivy had received word that her dad had died, and Tag had immediately given her as much time off as she needed to fly home to Nebraska to be with her mom, assuring her that all tasks would be taken care of in her absence.
Was it too much to hope for that someone other than Ally was assisting with the transport today? Dr. Ramsey or one of the other doctors sometimes accompanied patients, and he knew of at least two nurses who were trained to travel. He went to the nurses’ station on the first floor—they always seemed to know everything—and asked about Flynn and Ally.
“They’re both with patients,” Marlena, one of the nurses, told him a moment later after making a call. “But Nicki wants to know if you’re aware that you’re more than an hour early for your transport?”
“I thought the pickup was scheduled for one.”
“She was afraid of that. She says she called your office this morning to reschedule but got your machine.”
“Ah.” Tag nodded. That would explain it. He hadn’t gone into the office this morning. And probably none of his crew had bothered to check the messages. He couldn’t blame them; that wasn’t their job and he hadn’t asked them to. He made a mental note to give Ivy a raise immediately upon her return and headed to the cafeteria to grab a coffee.
On his way out, he ran into his friend Laurel Davidson, the owner of the town’s newspaper, the Rankins Press.
“Laurel, hey, what are you doing here? Chasing a story?”
“Possibly. I have a line on a human-interest piece. What are you up to?”
“Killing time because of a scheduling snafu. Ivy is gone, and my office is bordering on chaos.”
“Speaking of chaos, I am looking for the new hospital liaison, Ally Mowak. You know her, right?”
Tag set his features to bland. “Met her. Briefly.”
Laurel’s brows jumped high onto her forehead. “And...?”
His answer was a little frown and a shrug to match.
Clearly not fooled, not that she ever was, she said, “You can cool the closemouthed, cagey act. I know you flew her cousin in from Jasper Lake after the grizzly bear attack. Tell me what you know, what you think.”
“About what? I don’t know anything. It was pretty intense, Laurel. The patient was her cousin, and we didn’t spend much time chitchatting.” Why did he sound defensive? Tag wasn’t about to mention the controversy Ally had caused with the use of the clay, although he knew gossip had already flown around the hospital like a foot fungus in a dirty locker room. Heck, he’d heard it being discussed at the Cozy Caribou the day before.
Meaning Laurel already knew, which must have something to do with her being here. Her doubt-filled expression seemed to strengthen his deduction.
“Do you know her grandfather is Abraham Mowak?” Laurel asked.
“No...” Doctor Abe Mowak, the well-known, well-connected Native healer and advocate had a reputation for being...unconventional. How had he not made that connection?
“Yeah, we’ve got the granddaughter of one of Alaska’s most renowned Native healers working right here in Rankins. I met her earlier this week before I realized who she was, and even then, I thought she was...intriguing. From what I’ve learned, she’s been working by his side since she was a very young girl. And she’s an Army veteran.”
“Huh. Well, Laurel, it sounds like you already know more than I do.”
“Big surprise,” she teased. “I also stopped by to see Ginger.”
“Ginger is here?” Ginger Weil was a mutual friend. In addition to being a professional photographer, shooting weddings, parties and portraits, she also took photos for the region’s newspaper. She’d been diagnosed with ovarian cancer nearly a year ago, and it hadn’t responded well to treatment.
“Yeah, they admitted her last night with an infection.”
Tag felt his gut tighten with concern. “Is she staying?”
“I don’t know.” Laurel shook her head. “She doesn’t want to. Poor thing. She wants to stop treatment and her family is not taking it well.”
“Yeah, I talked to Jacob last week. He’s not dealing with the whole thing in general. I think I’ll head up there and say hi.”
“She would love that. And so would Jacob. You should try talking to him. He likes you. Maybe he’ll listen. I’ll see you tomorrow at Iris’s party, right?”
“Yep, her flight gets into Anchorage this afternoon. I’m picking her up after I drop off a patient.”
* * *
ALLY HAD RETURNED from her lunch break to discover a request to visit a patient ASAP. She’d headed to the fourth floor to find a smiling nurse standing outside the patient’s door, seemingly waiting for her arrival.
“Hi, I’m Nicki. You must be Ally. It’s great to meet you finally.” With a wave, Nicki moved to the end of the hall. Ally followed. “Ginger has ovarian cancer. She’s done two rounds of chemo. They didn’t work. Now she says she’s through. Doesn’t want to talk options anymore. Family is distraught. Dr. Ramsey thought a conversation with you might, um, encourage them to accept her decision. Ginger agreed.” Nicki handed her a chart.
“Of course.” Ally skimmed the details and headed into the room.
“Ah, Ally.” Flynn smiled and waved her over. “Thanks for coming. I’d like you to meet Ginger Weil. Ginger, this is Ally Mowak, our hospital liaison. Ginger is a photographer, the most talented one I’ve ever met.”
“Pfft.” Ginger flapped a hand in his direction, but she was grinning. “Charmer. How many photographers have you met?”
Ally sent her a warm smile. “Hi, Ginger.”
“Lovely to meet you, Ally. Welcome to our family meeting.” Ally was surprised by both the twinkle in the woman’s eye and the trace of sarcasm when she said, “Doc Junior here tells me it’s your job to reassure my parents that I’m a grown woman capable of making my own decisions about my health. I’m looking forward to hearing someone with the proper authority do that.”
Ally took in the two women huddled together off to one side. A beefy man with a gray buzz cut stood on the opposite side of the bed, not frowning, yet there was no trace of a smile, either. Massive arms folded over his muscled chest made his biceps bulge, and everything about him screamed military.
Flynn introduced the man and the older woman as Ginger’s parents, Jacob and Kate. The other woman was their younger daughter, Cara, Ginger’s sister.
Ally moved closer to Ginger. “I understand you’ve decided to forgo further treatment for your condition?”
“Correct.” A confident nod accompanied her response.
“I’m sorry, but I need to ask if you understand what that means. Even though I know that your oncologist, and probably Dr. Ramsey, have already gone over this with you, I’d like to talk—”
“Yes, let’s talk about it,” Kate broke in. “That’s all we’re asking, honey.”
“Any hope is still hope,” Cara chimed in.
“Talking some sense into her is all we want,” Jacob growled.
Oh, dear, this poor family.
“Platitudes are my favorite,” Ginger whispered. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gave her head a shake before settling a determined gaze on Ally. “I’m totally fine talking about it. With treatment, my odds of beating this are less than two percent. Treatment would consist of more brutal chemo. The first rounds left me helpless and miserable and incapacitated and nearly killed me. But if I opt out of the treatment I could have three or four or as many as six or even eight months with relative quality of life. Way, way better than the chemo version of quality I’ve suffered through already.
“I could smoke weed—sorry.” She gave her dad a pointed look before addressing Ally again. “I could legally partake of medical marijuana until I can no longer stand the pain. Then I’ll hook up to a morphine drip and sleep peacefully until I die with as much dignity as dying allows.”
“Stop talking about dying!” Cara barked, her tone bordering on a shout. “You have to fight, Ginger. Why won’t you fight?”
Kate choked on a sob. “Ginger, honey, Cara’s right. Please think about Ella. She needs her mother.”
Jacob stood his ground, menacing and gruff, his blue eyes settled on the wall above Ginger’s head. Ally’s heart went out to him; she wasn’t fooled by the man of steel routine. Why was it that the harder the shell, the more devastating the heartbreak seemed?
A passionate, circular conversation ensued, and Ally understood why Ginger had requested some help. She glanced at Flynn, whose only response was a gentle upward nudge of one brow.
Ally had experienced an uncommon amount of death in her life. Palliative care was one of her grandfather’s strong suits and Ally had shown a knack for assisting him at a very early age. She knew when a patient was making a decision for the wrong reason and when they were making it for the right one. As far as she knew, her intuition and experience had never steered her wrong.
Beside her, Ginger’s eyes were shining and filled with anguish. The sight caused an ache deep in Ally’s chest. She reached across and placed her hand over Ginger’s, lightly squeezing her fingers.
Ignoring the others, Ally asked, “So, Ginger, now that you’ve decided, what are you planning to do with the rest of your life?”
The room grew silent while Ginger’s eyes welled with tears. “You’re the first person to ask me that...” Dipping her chin, she nodded for a few seconds before swiping at a tear on her cheek. “I’ve thought about this a lot.”
“I’m sure you have. I know I would.”
“It even has a title, this last chapter of my life. It’s called Photographs and Memories, like the Jim Croce song. Do you know it? I’m plagiarizing, but I’ll be dead by the time anyone figures it out so let ’em sue me.”
Ally smiled. “Know it and love it. He’s one of my grandfather’s favorite singers.”
“I want a few more months of taking photos and making memories. One last glorious Alaskan summer...” Ginger swallowed and nodded as if to blink back more tears. “I want to spend time with my daughter and take photos to leave for her. I want us to do things and make memories and document them together. Memories that don’t include me sick and vomiting and so weak that I can’t even hold her or read to her or sing Jim Croce songs...”
Ally squeezed her hand while she gathered her thoughts, awed by her strength and bravery and the beautiful poetry of her words.
“What I don’t want...” She cleared her throat. “What I don’t want is to lie in bed wishing out the window, you know what I mean? Lying there dying and thinking about all the things I wish I was doing? I want to do them, live while I can. So, Ally, that’s what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”
“Ginger, that sounds just lovely.” Ally lifted a shoulder. “I can’t imagine anything better.”
“Me, either.”
“You realize that it will be painful? That, in the end, it could possibly be more painful than if you chose chemotherapy? Physically, I mean, because the cancer will be allowed to grow. Chemotherapy kills your good cells, but it also kills the cancer cells and can prolong your life.”
“I do. Dr. Fulton, my oncologist in Glacier City, was brutally honest about that. I asked him to be because I want to be prepared. But I’ll have quality time, that’s the point.”
“Okay, good. You get it. Your daughter is lucky to have you. How old is she?”
“She’s eight.” Ginger reached toward the bedside table, picked up a frame and handed it to her. A photo collage, Ally realized, and in each and every image there was a petite girl with a heart-shaped face, wide smile and lively eyes that were nearly identical to her mother’s, right down to the glowing inquisitiveness in their startlingly blue depths. Some images featured the little girl alone, others included her with a happy and healthy Ginger, her grandparents, Aunt Cara and presumably other loved ones. In some, there was a fluffy gray cat.
“These photos are gorgeous. Dr. Ramsey is right about your talent. And your daughter is beautiful.”
“She is! And smart and kind and artistic and imaginative. All the things I dreamed my child would be.”
Ally stared into her eyes, pouring every bit of support she could manage into the look and the touch of her hand on Ginger’s. “I dream of those things for my daughter, too, if I’m ever lucky enough to have one.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Ginger whispered.
“You bet. Have you applied for your medical marijuana card yet? I know some doctors who specialize in this area. They can work with you and suggest strains that are symptom specific. It’s—”
“Wait! What? Aren’t you going to try and talk her out of this? Jacob, do something,” Kate demanded.
“Yeah!” Jacob erupted. “Hold on here for one minute! This is your solution? I thought doctors took an oath to save lives.”
Cara was looking at Flynn. “Dr. Ramsey, is it possible she doesn’t know what she’s saying? I’ve read about how chemo can affect the decision-making process. It can make people confused and—”
“Cara!” Ginger cried.
Eyes bright with tears, Cara turned toward her sister. “I’m sorry, Ginger. I’m so sorry. I just... I love you so much. And Ella...” Her voice broke with a sob.
“It really wouldn’t be like that, Jacob,” Ally said calmly. “I know it’s easy for me to say because Ginger isn’t my daughter, or sister, but I can tell you that I’ve seen hundreds of people die in my lifetime, both working for my grandfather’s medical practice and from my time as a medic in the Army. The acceptance of an inevitability we all have to face at some point isn’t necessarily giving up. It can be a way of taking control. And, without exception, it’s one of the bravest acts I’ve ever witnessed.”
The room went quiet. Jacob peered at her as if he’d only just seen her for the first time. Kate looked thoughtful. Cara’s sobs quieted. Ginger was beginning to look tired, and Ally didn’t blame her.
“How about if the four of us, you and Kate and Cara and me, talk about this down the hall? There’s a private room right next to the lounge.”
“Thank you,” Ginger told her before fixing a pleading gaze on Cara.
Ally watched a light dawn in Cara’s red-rimmed eyes and felt a rush of relief when the woman began nodding. “Mom and Dad, let’s do that. Let’s go and let Ginger rest. I think it might be a good idea to hear what Ally has to say.” Tugging her bag up from the floor, she adjusted the strap over her shoulder and added, almost like an afterthought, “And we can say some things, too. Ask questions and...yeah. This will be good.”
Nicki, the nurse who’d briefed Ally, seemed to appear out of nowhere. Tucking an arm through Kate’s, she led her toward the exit. “Come with me. I’ll show you guys where to go.”
Ally’s back had been to the door, so she realized someone else had joined them only when a man stepped forward, presumably to allow the family to pass. That’s when she saw him clearly: Tag James—every handsome, frowning inch of him.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u0016d090-2868-56bb-81ea-65b2bb0d4795)
TAG STOOD BESIDE the helicopter and watched Ally push through the doors onto the rooftop landing pad. Perfect timing—the patient was being loaded. She’d secured her silky black hair into a messy bun and tendrils were slipping loose in the force of the late spring breeze. A messenger-style bag hung diagonally across her body to rest against one hip, and she’d traded her hospital blazer for a sporty fleece jacket. She looked relaxed and happy.
And why wouldn’t she be? She’d just worked a magical spell on Jacob Weil. Not that he could blame the guy. Tag had been rather spellbound himself. Emotion stirred in his chest as he thought about her compassion and empathy for Ginger.
Flynn followed a few seconds later, took Ally by the elbow and steered her off to one side where they conversed for a moment before Flynn patted Ally on the shoulder. She pivoted and headed in Tag’s direction, and an almost panicky feeling assailed him as he reluctantly allowed himself to acknowledge just how pretty she was. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her, and his lack of self-control left him vaguely appalled. It dawned on him that she was likely younger than his baby sisters.
“Ready, pilot?” She blew by him, throwing a tentative grin his way, and continued to the passenger side of the chopper.
He felt his jaw drop at the teasing remark. Flashes of her comments about his being too slow to take off spurred him into action. Once on board, he found her already checking on the patient. She slid Tag a glance and the playful half smile on her face made him go soft.
He couldn’t resist a little teasing of his own. “You’re not back there smearing mud all over him, are you? Cuz I think he’s already set.”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his, and the laugh that followed had Tag feeling like he’d won a little prize. She scurried forward to her seat.
“So, you take this strap—” He bit off the explanation of how to work the intricate seat belt when he realized that she already knew. He’d never seen anyone who could get buckled in faster than he. Until now.
Cocking her head, she gave him an inquisitive look. “You were saying?”
He couldn’t help but grin. He buckled up and after a thorough run-through of preflight checks they were ready for takeoff.
Adjusting his headset, he asked, “Hear me okay?”
“Roger that,” she responded, and within minutes they were off the ground and on the way.
Seconds after he’d settled the helicopter at their altitude and cruising speed, Ally’s voice came through his headset. “Before we start making awkward small talk I need to say something.”
“Okay?”
“I want to apologize.”
Sparing her a glance, he noticed how intently she was staring ahead, brow softly furrowed, and something warmed inside him because he knew she’d been rehearsing this.
“You were right the other day when you said I owed you respect as a medical professional. You were right, and I didn’t give it to you and I’m sorry about that. I’m not usually so ruffled under pressure. I’ve heard—and I learned the hard way—that emergencies feel different when they’re family. I don’t like excuses for bad behavior, but that’s mine for being short with you on the plane.”
“That’s understandable. There’s a difference between a reason and an excuse, though, and I understand—”
“Hold on, please,” she interrupted gently. “I’m not finished. In addition to excuses, I’m not great at apologies, either. I don’t have to be, because I don’t make very many mistakes. But I’ve practiced this one so I’d like to get it out.
“I was going to wait for our meeting with Flynn, but you haven’t scheduled it yet, and I don’t want things to be uncomfortable between us today, not to mention that an emergency could happen at any time that would force us together again where on the spot decisions will have to be made.”
“Ha. That must be nice, the not making mistakes part.”
“Oh, I’m talking about my professional life, like where my job is concerned. In my personal life, I should probably just start every conversation with an apology.”
He laughed.
“You laugh, but it’s true. Interpersonal communication is not my strong suit. When you came to my office that morning, I’d just come from Dr. Boyd’s office, where he gave me his opinion on the use of traditional medicine in his hospital.”
“He’s very old-school.”
“And I’m new-school, which technically is older school, but... Regardless, I’m more of a blend of the two, but I don’t think he’s interested in blending. Anyway, I am sorry for not speaking to you more professionally that day, as well. I promise it’s not normally like me. If anything, I get accused of being too professional, too...stoic.”
“Okay. Well, then, I’ll return the favor and admit it wasn’t my finest moment when I brought up your age, which inadvertently implied a lack of experience.”
“Thank you. Apology accepted. That is a bit of a hot-button issue with me. It gets...old, for lack of a better word. I try to let my actions speak to my experience and usually it works. But I have my moments.”
Tag resisted the inclination to point out that only experience would make things easier, but as he worked through her explanation he wasn’t so sure. He tried to put himself in her position as a woman and a young, beautiful Native one at that. It was impossible to imagine what she went through, dealing with people’s doubts and preconceived notions, and constantly having to prove herself. In truth, he’d probably be a whole lot more defensive than she was.
A million questions flashed through his mind about her age, her experiences and her life, which he suspected had already been an interesting one. But he wasn’t about to ask any of them now. He didn’t want her to think he had more doubts. He’d already messed that up once. Better to let his actions speak for him.
“I appreciate you laying all this out on the table. I tell you what, let’s work it out later when we can talk more...face-to-face, so to speak.”
A soft sigh sounded in his earphones, giving him the impression she liked the layer of distance the onboard communications provided. “Okay.”
“So, I don’t know if Flynn mentioned it to you, but we’re bringing my sister Iris back with us from Anchorage.”
“He did not mention it. How nice. Does she live there?”
“No, she’s flying in from Washington, DC.”
“She lives in DC?”
“She was living there and going to graduate school. Just finished and now she’s looking for her dream job.”
“Hmm. So, I’ve met two of your sisters, a couple of cousins and I think your cousin-in-law? How many of you are there, anyway?”
“Um, a lot.” Tag hadn’t known she’d met any of his family. He wondered what they’d thought of her. “Tons of cousins. Six kids in my immediate family. Me, Shay, Hannah and then the triplets, Hazel, Seth and Iris.”
“Triplets?”
“Flynn didn’t tell you Iris is a triplet?”
A glance at her told him she was pondering that. “No, he didn’t. I don’t think I’ve ever met a triplet. Where are the other two?”
“Seth lives in Rankins. But he’s a professional fisherman, so he’s gone a lot, out on the water. Works with my dad. Hazel is a travel writer and blogger. Very adventurous. She’s currently in Mongolia.”
“Mongolia? Wow. That is utterly cool.”
He laughed. “I think so. Our dad? Not so much. He doesn’t understand Hazel’s desire to constantly put herself in harm’s way.”
“You probably get her, though, don’t you? The adventure part, anyway?”
A bolt of surprise went through him and it must have shown, because she added, “Pilot is not exactly a low-risk occupation.”
“But I’m a paramedic, too. Saving people cancels out the danger.”
Her husky laughter filled his headphones and worked right into him, into places that had him thinking about her in a way he knew he shouldn’t. Too young for you, James, he told himself. Too young and too...what? Different? Yes. Probably. At this point, he hoped so, because a reason beyond their age difference would help to put him off.
“Nope, doesn’t work that way, cowboy. Floatplanes, dual props, gliders, helicopters all scream risk taker. Paramedic just says you also like taking charge and helping people.”
Cowboy? Hmm. And how would she know he liked to fly gliders? Had she been asking about him? He found himself smiling; he’d never have guessed Ally Mowak had this fun, easygoing side. Despite his first impression and having questioned some of her beliefs, he liked her. She seemed like a good person with the intentions to match. That’s why, when the time was right, he was going to give her some advice.
* * *
TAG JAMES LANDED a helicopter just as smoothly as he did a floatplane. Granted, a landing pad on top of a hospital probably wasn’t as challenging as a lake. But what did she know about piloting? They both seemed difficult, and frankly, she was relieved the trip had gone so well.
They seemed to have put the clay incident behind them. And she’d learned from the Weils that Tag was a friend of Ginger’s, so her unease over finding him in the hospital room was pretty much alleviated. For some reason, probably Flynn’s comment about Tag’s close relationship with Dr. Boyd, she’d assumed that he was checking up on her.
Hospital staff was waiting in Anchorage, and they handed off the patient to the medical team without incident before climbing back into the helicopter. Within minutes they’d taken off and then landed again.
“This is a private airfield,” Tag told her when they disembarked. “Iris is taking a car from the airport and meeting us here. We probably have enough time to grab a sandwich if you’re hungry? There’s a...” He’d been checking his phone as he spoke and she watched his brow knit with concern. “Uh-oh. Well. Maybe dessert, too, it looks like. Her flight was canceled.”
“Oh, no.”
“Mechanical problems. They put her on a different plane, but she’s going to be delayed a bit. I’m sorry.”
“You should be more than sorry if you did something to that plane just to hang out with a girl for a few hours,” she said drily.
She’d meant it as a joke, but for a half a second he looked alarmed by the thought. Then a slow smile spread across his face. Hazel eyes narrowed and swept slowly over her, leaving a trail of heat across her skin and a pleasant tightness in her midsection.
“That’s funny,” he said in a quiet voice, those eyes pinned on hers now.
Her throat went dry. “I just meant that you don’t need to apologize for your sister’s flight delay,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else. Why was the back of her neck tingling?
“But it’s Friday, and you probably have plans. Now we’re not going to get back until late.”
“No plans. Unless you consider eating pizza and watching the Mariners game plans?”
Was it her imagination or did he look pleased by that answer? Considerate of him to be worried about ruining her Friday night. She had to concede that Flynn was right; Tag did seem like a nice guy.
“In fact, I would consider those plans. Very fine plans indeed. You wanna grab a bite and watch the game while we wait?”
She grinned. “Uh, yeah.”
They walked to a nearby sports bar. Because it was early for dinner and late for lunchtime, the bar was quiet inside with only a few tables filled. Fellow Mariner fans were easy to spot in their blue-green and gray caps and shirts.
A sign indicated that they could seat themselves, so they grabbed a booth with a good view of one of the oversize television screens. A woman wearing a snug Mariners T-shirt and a tight denim miniskirt hustled over from the bar. She was attractive with thick, strategically applied makeup and blond hair up in a complicated twist. Her name tag said Rita.
“I’m sorry,” she said, giving Tag an apologetic smile before pinning a gentle scowl on Ally. “But this side of the restaurant is for customers twenty-one and older only.”
Tag blew out an exaggerated huff and reached for his wallet. “Will this madness never end? I’m getting so tired of it. I’m going to be twenty-three next month, or is it twenty-four? Hold on, let me check.”
Ally laughed and dug her wallet out of her bag. She handed her driver’s license over to the waitress. Rita was giggling and seemed far more interested in examining Tag than Ally’s ID.
“Sure you are. Come on...” Cupping her fingers, she waggled them in a come-hither gesture. “Hand it over. I can spot a fake ID from a mile away. Sneaking into bars is going to get you into big, big trouble, Mister...?”
“James. Tag James,” he supplied.
“Tag, huh?” Reaching out, she gave his shoulder a playful nudge. “You’re it.”
Wait... What? Was this woman hitting on him while Ally was sitting right here?
Rita thrust her ID in Ally’s general direction with a flat “Thanks, hon.” Eager blue eyes remained fastened on Tag. “Is this little cutie your daughter?”
Ally slid a hand across the table, threaded her fingers through Tag’s and pitched her voice to sweet. “Wife, actually. Thank you, Rita, for your meticulous and painstaking commitment to the law. You’re a credit to your profession.”
“Oh...” Rita drawled, her pale cheeks turning nearly as pink as her lip gloss. “Um...you’re welcome. Are you guys ready to order?”
They both asked for the special, the Mariner Plate, which consisted of deep-fried fish, clams, and shrimp with spicy slaw and french fries.
Ally turned her head and pretended to watch the game while Rita hurried off toward the kitchen. She hadn’t thought this through, because now her skin was burning at every contact point where it touched his, but she didn’t want to remove her hand in case Rita was watching. Tag’s gaze was intent on her, no doubt wondering how many shades of psycho she was.
It took all of her willpower not to squirm. Was he upset? She should probably apologize for thwarting Rita’s romantic ploy. But then the sound of his low, deep chuckle seeped into her, heating her from the inside out. She really liked his laugh.
He gave her hand a little squeeze. Her eyes felt heavy as she heaved them up to meet his. A rush of heat blasted through her at the intensity she saw there. She couldn’t blame Rita. No doubt he had women hitting on him constantly. She already knew he did. As Rankins’s most eligible bachelor, the title all but guaranteed it.
His brows shifted up along with the corners of his mouth. Eyes shining, green hues dominating, he repeated the word, “Wife?”
Subtly, she tried to extricate her fingers, but he held firm. “Stop that,” he said, “I’m holding my wife’s hand.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I do if you want to pull this off. Rita is over there telling her friends right now about the cradle robber she’s serving at table seven.”
Ally snickered and offered up a helpless shrug. “I’m sorry if I got in the way of something there. But the way she looked at me and then just dismissed me with the ‘hon’ and the ‘cutie’ and then hitting on you right in front of me? It was rude. Now you see what I was talking about earlier? I’ll tell her the truth if you want. I’ll even ask her out for you?”
“I’m not interested in her,” he said in that warm gravelly tone that melted into her like honey on toast. She managed a weak smile and tried not to think about why that statement pleased her.
“And, I assure you, I can find my own dates. But you do realize that you are probably young enough to be my daughter?”
She knew he was teasing, but for some reason, she needed to make sure he understood. “Technically, I suppose, yes. But I’m also old enough to be a paramedic, an Army veteran and the hospital liaison—as well as your wife.”
Like she’d hit a dimmer switch, his expression faded to serious. “Ah,” he said, brushing his free hand across his jaw. “Are you sure this isn’t still about our first encounter?”
Was it? She didn’t know. The way his thumb was moving over her hand made it difficult to think. She did know that she wished she hadn’t turned the look in his green-brown eyes from lazy fun to sharp and solemn. Although they probably should discuss the subject further, as they’d agreed. Face-to-face. She just wished his face, his hand, his voice and the rest of him wasn’t so...unsettling.
“I don’t know. You made that crack about the clay in the helicopter, but you never scheduled a meeting with Flynn. Are you going to give me grief going forward?”
He seemed to be thinking it over. “Oversight on my part about the meeting. My office assistant is on leave, and things have been a little scattered. Let’s meet right now.”
With a wink, he lifted her hand and brushed a soft kiss across her knuckles before letting it go. Ally’s breath froze in her lungs because his lips seared her skin and her heart was beating this hard, rhythmic thud in her chest. Then he reached across the table to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and her pulse took off like a bottle rocket anxious for the Fourth of July. Husband-like gestures, she reminded herself; he was only playing a part. And for her sake, no less.
He took a sip of his water. When he spoke, his voice sounded low and a little husky, and she had to focus on the meaning of his words. “I do plan on requesting that you adhere to strictly modern medical practices in emergency cases where I’m involved. As we previously discussed, I understand that Louis is your cousin and that you hadn’t technically started the job yet, so you’ve got a pass there. But in future cases, we need to be on the same page regarding treatment.”
“You think because I used the clay on Louis that I would discard modern medicine whenever I feel like it?”
“Well...I don’t know. And it’s not just Louis now, is it? You seemed pretty convinced in Ginger’s situation, too.”
Debates about medicine she was used to, so thankfully everything Abe had taught her kicked in. This topic she could discuss with complete confidence. She tried to decide how best to proceed.
He beat her to it. “Since you brought this up, I feel like I need to give you some advice. Despite our rough start, I have a good feeling about you, Ally. Aside from the mu...clay, Louis’s evacuation went well. You made the right call regarding the hospital. And I admire the way you handled Jacob Weil. He can be pretty intense, if not outright intimidating. I know you had Ginger’s best interests in mind. Anyone could see your compassion. Except...”
“Except what?”
“Except that I’m wondering if you’re aware of Dr. Boyd’s opinion on this subject.”
“Which subject?”
“The subject of medical marijuana. He’s very much against it.”
“But it’s legal now.”
“Not at the federal level. And he lobbied hard against it here in Alaska.”
“Ginger brought it up.”
Tag exhaled. “I know, and like I said, I think you handled it very well. But you need to be careful.”
A million invisible needles pricked at her skin. “Careful?” She repeated the word flatly. Careful was the opposite of what she needed to be in order to get her message out, especially when medical marijuana was a topic about which she should be able to speak freely.
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