When Marcie’s eyes came open, Mel smiled. “Hi there. Not feeling so good, huh? You remember me—Mel Sheridan from Virgin River. I’m the one who was dragged off a ladder in the middle of town by a brute.”
“Yes,” Marcie said. “Sure.” And she came awake with a dry cough, turning her head aside.
“This is Doc Mullins. I work with him. He’s a family practitioner. I’m a nurse practitioner and midwife. Ian came for us. His diagnosis is flu. What’s yours?”
“Ugh. It’s probably just a bad cold.”
“But your nose ain’t running,” Doc said. “Sit up for me, girl. I have to hear your chest.” While Doc slid the cold stethoscope under the flannel shirt to listen to her lungs, she treated him to a deep, brittle cough. When she recovered, she took a few deep breaths for him, then sat patiently while he looked in her ears and throat, taking her temperature and palpating her glands.
Mel said, “So, you found your man.”
“I did,” Marcie said. “Your husband told you?”
“Uh-huh. I don’t tell patient business without permission, but Jack’s an open book unless he has specific instructions to keep a secret. How’d Ian take to being found?”
“Thoroughly pissed him off. You should hear him—he can roar like a Siberian tiger. It’s kind of amazing. Scared the liver out of me at first.”
“And now?” Mel asked.
She looked up at Mel. “He saved my life. He said I almost froze to death and he brought me in and warmed me up. He went for you…”
“He said he didn’t want to bring you to town because the heater in his truck isn’t working very well. But I have a good heater and we have a couple of beds at the clinic—”
“Can’t I just stay here?” she asked.
“Are you sure?”
“I came all this way…I’ve been looking for him…”
“You can come to town with us until you feel better, then decide what to do. You can come back if you have unfinished business here. If you need a little backup, there’s my husband and me.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d rather see this through, then I’ll go home.” And what she didn’t say was that she was a little afraid he might disappear again.
“But do you feel safe with him? It’s pretty rugged out here. Your tiger doesn’t have a lot of creature comforts.”
“I don’t think Ian has much, being out here like this. But it’s enough, isn’t it? It’s warm, there’s food, he made me tea, bought me orange juice. He gave me aspirin…”
“I don’t know him, Marcie,” Mel said. “And from what I hear, you don’t know him either. He’s a recluse—does he even have any friends?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He has me.”
“Do I take that to mean he’s not roaring at you anymore?” Mel asked.
“I hope so. I think he’s all calmed down.”
“I don’t want to leave you in a bad place. That would be irresponsible of me.”
Marcie smiled a little. “When he was loading his truck with firewood to sell, he was singing. You should have heard him. He has the most beautiful voice. I knew when I heard that voice that he’s ferocious on the outside, but on the inside he’s a tender soul. And I think he’s proving I’m right, in spite of himself.”
“Of course, it’s your decision,” Mel said. “But there’s help if you need it.”
“Flu,” Doc said shortly. “Boy’s good—he should practice medicine. You’ll be all right after a couple of days of feeling like crap. I’m going to give you an antibiotic injection, although it will only treat any bacterial infection you might’ve picked up as a result of a viral flu. You’ll have to ride it out, but you’re young and healthy and seem to have a decent nurse. Ian took good care of the old man who lived here before him. He’s up to the job.”
“That may be,” Mel said. “But before I leave, I’m going to make sure he wants to do that. I’m going to have to ask him, Marcie. If he doesn’t want to take care of you through this illness, he shouldn’t have to—not when there’s an alternative. If his means are slim and he’s not inclined—”
“All right,” she said. “But when you ask him, will you please tell him I have eighty dollars I can give him? For anything I eat or drink?”