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“Where’d you train, Christina?” She liked the other woman a lot. She’d only ever had a handful of women friends, and she’d lost touch with them since marrying Garry. He’d taken all her attention.
“Edmonton, nine years ago,” Christina said. “I followed my high school sweetheart there. David got a job in the oil fields and I enrolled in nursing. But he was killed when a generator blew up. I was two months from graduating and four months pregnant. We were getting married the day after graduation.”
Lordy. All of a sudden, Jordan’s life didn’t seem so desperate.
Christina was matter-of-fact about it all. “I got my degree and came back here so Eli could grow up with family and friends.”
Family. Friends. The words left a hollow space in Jordan’s heart. She’d grown up in foster homes, struggling to make top grades, too busy to have time for friendship. And then somewhere along the line, she’d learned not to trust other women. And yet here was a woman, on an island in what at this moment felt like the outer edge of the known world, who made Jordan think friendship was not only possible, but likely.
They left the road and headed up a slight hill to a wooden frame house indistinguishable from every other they’d passed. Each had a stack of firewood outside, and many of the yards were cluttered with discarded bathtubs, broken high chairs, rusted motors, old tires—even bed frames.
Some had electrical lines leading to them, but many didn’t. The one Christina headed for was tidy and well kept. The pile of firewood was neatly stacked, and wooden tubs of flowers flanked the walkway. Christina led Jordan up the sturdy stairs and opened the front door.
“Mom, hey, we’re here!”
Mouthwatering cooking smells greeted them, along with Elvis singing gospel on a boom box. A plump, very pretty woman hurried down the hall to greet them, wiping her hands on a striped apron tied around her ample waist. She was smiling, and her dark eyes were almost buried in her round apple cheeks.
“About time. I was about to send out a scouting party.”
“This is Jordan Burke, Ma. Jordan, my mother, Rose Marie Crow.”
Rose Marie took both of Jordan’s hands in a warm, welcoming clasp.
“You’re a pretty one,” she commented. “But way too skinny, we’ll have to feed you up, eh?”
Jordan’s smile took effort. Her skin felt shrunken from crying, and she was suddenly shy. “It smells wonderful in here,” she managed to say. “Thank you so much for inviting me.”
“We’re not fancy, come and sit in the kitchen and I’ll serve the stew. Christina, Eli came by and said he’s eating at Michael’s house. Wanda’s making them KD.”
“Kraft Dinner,” Christina interpreted. “They’d live on the stuff if we let them.”
Rose Marie led the two women to the large kitchen at the back of the house. Sliding doors opened on to a deck, where the yard below was mostly garden. Green plants in a variety of pots lined the deep windowsills.
The kitchen was warm and inviting, counters lined with baskets of food and a wood-burning cookstove in the corner like the one in Jordan’s apartment. Except this one sent out waves of warmth. Its gleaming surface was crowded with pots, and a large, sturdy basket beside the stove held a good supply of firewood.
Rose Marie deftly lifted the lid with an iron utensil and thrust another log into the firebox, slamming the lid back in place. The big square wooden table in the middle of the room was set for four with sea-green place mats and colorful Fiestaware.
Christina indicated a chair, and Jordan sat.
“Where’s Grandmother, Mom?”
“She went back home to get something but told us not to wait for her.”
Rose Marie began filling huge bowls with stew. Slicing up a loaf of freshly baked bread, Christina filled a wooden platter, and set it on the table along with a wooden bowl of glistening salad greens.
“Dig in,” Rose Marie ordered, taking her place beside Christina.
Jordan, suddenly ravenous, did as she was told. Her first bite confirmed that Rose Marie was an exceptional cook who knew her way around a seafood stew.
“This is sooo good,” she sighed.
Just as Jordan was sampling the crusty bread—irresistibly still warm—the deck door slid open and a short, very old woman with long black braids came in. Almost as wide as she was tall, she moved with an assured dignity and grace that belied her years.
Christina got up and gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Hey, Grandmother Alice, this is Jordan Burke, the new doctor. Jordan, this is Alice Sam.”
“How do you do.” Alice set down the plastic bag she was carrying and came over to take Jordan’s hand. Her gaze seemed to penetrate beneath the skin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jordan Burke.”
“And you, Mrs. Sam.”
“Grandmother, everyone calls me Grandmother.”
“Sit,” Rose Marie ordered. “I’ll get you some stew. Help yourself to salad and bread.”
While Elvis sang “Amazing Grace,” they ate the food, simple and delicious.
After a long silence, the women began to discuss the weather and the garden and someone’s new baby. Jordan didn’t feel excluded, but rather, relived they didn’t make her the focus of the gathering.
She sensed they were giving her a chance to get to know them, to feel at home with them—and to recover from whatever had made her eyes red and bloodshot.
She felt relaxed and peaceful, sitting in the bright kitchen with these kind and tactful women.
“I made Nanaimo bars,” Rose Marie said when everyone was finished eating. “You drink coffee, Doctor? Or I can make tea, herbal or regular, whatever you want.”
“Coffee’s fine.” A jolt of caffeine would help get her through the afternoon.
The Nanaimo bars were decadent—layers of sweet custard, coconut and smooth dark chocolate. Between the sugar and caffeine, Jordan was soon wide-awake again.
“I read that now they think chocolate is actually good for you,” Christina said. “What’s your professional opinion, Jordan? You can lie—we’ll all be grateful.”
They all turned to look at her.
“Women have always known chocolate’s good for them,” she said, munching a second slice. “We didn’t need scientists to prove it.”
The others smiled and nodded, and then fell silent. Waiting politely for her to tell them something about herself. But she couldn’t. She’d learned to talk to Helen, but she still couldn’t let others into her private space. “You’re an amazing cook, Rose Marie,” she said. “I’ll have to learn to cook, too. I’ve gotten way too used to eating out and ordering in.”
“Here, we don’t have much choice,” Alice said. “And most of us don’t have the money, even if there was somewhere to go besides Mabel’s.”
“Working in Emerg, you probably came home too tired to do much cooking,” Christina said in her defense. “You’re gonna find life a lot slower here.”
“I’m looking forward to that.”
“You got family on the mainland?” Alice asked.
“No.” Jordan hesitated. “An ex-husband.” The ex part was stretching the truth somewhat. “No kids,” she added with a sense of regret. “I have one brother, but he’s in Seattle. I don’t see him very often.”
“Your folks passed on?” Alice obviously believed family was very important.
It would be rude to avoid a direct answer. “My mother died when I was four,” Jordan managed to say. “My father figured he couldn’t take care of us on his own so he put my brother and me into foster care. He’s still alive, but I don’t have any contact with him.”
“Too bad,” Alice said shaking her head. “We all need family.”
The women nodded.
“We have a saying,” Grandmother Alice said, murmuring in her own language. “It means we are all related.”
“Most of us, my generation anyways, we got separated from our folks, too,” Rose Marie said. “They took the kids from the reserves and put us either with foster families in the city or in residential schools.”
“I’ve read about that,” Jordan said. “That had to be one of the most destructive things politicians ever did.”
“Yeah.” All three women agreed, but without any show of emotion.
“It was bad, getting taken away,” Alice said, matter-of-fact. “And then it was real hard, comin’ back.”
“Culture shock comin’ and goin’,” Rose Marie agreed, and they all laughed.
“But now we got our own school, our kids stay here in Ahousaht.”
Jordan recognized the pride in her tone. “When I saw the school the first time I came here, I was impressed. It’s beautiful.”
Rose Marie nodded. “And we got some really good teachers.”
“Did any of them grow up here?”
“Three.” Alice poured Jordan another cup of coffee. “There’s two from Away, but they’ve been here two years now. Looks like they might just stay.”
“Is that a problem?” Jordan asked. “Teachers leaving?”
“Oh, yeah, big-time,” Christina said. “Last year we had some leave before September was even over. That young couple who came from the Interior—”
She was interrupted by a man in rough work clothes and rubber boots who opened the sliding door wide and stepped inside.
Rose Marie got up fast. “Peter, what’s happened?”
“Louie’s cut his leg damned near off with the power saw,” he said, breathing hard. “I knew the new doc was comin’ here for lunch—we called for the ambulance but it’s got a flat tire.”
“This is my husband, Peter Crow,” Rose Marie said.
“We’d better hurry, Peter.” Jordan got up quickly, adrenaline pumping. “I’ll have to get my medical bag from the apartment.”
“You go with Dad,” Christina said. “Give me your key, I’ll bring your bag.” She turned to her father. “Where’s Louie?”
“Down by the old wharf, he’s bleedin’ pretty bad, but Silas is there. He’ll get it stopped. C’mon, Doc.”
Jordan had to run to keep up with him. He’d left a battered green half ton running, and she climbed into the passenger seat, barely getting the door shut before Peter stepped hard on the accelerator.
A medical emergency. For the first time all day, Jordan felt confident that she was doing exactly what she was meant to do.
CHAPTER SIX
HER PATIENT WAS LYING FLAT on an old dock in a pool of coagulating blood. His right thigh, halfway between knee and groin, had been torn open in a crosswise cut. Someone had been smart enough to elevate the wound and apply a pressure bandage.
Jordan knelt and looked into the man’s eyes, at the same time taking his wrist, gauging his pulse.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Burke. Can you tell me your name?” She knew it, but needed to ascertain his level of shock.
“Louie Adams.” His voice was thin and reedy, but he was conscious and responding. Rapid pulse, dilated pupils. Shock, but not bad. Considering.
Louie was stoically silent, and an equally silent crowd had collected around him. Someone had draped a jacket over his chest and shoulders, possibly the lean man who knelt beside him. He was talking to Louie in a low tone, his shoulder-length black hair partially hiding his face.
The man’s hair had a dramatic white streak, although he looked young. His black leather jacket was well-worn, open to reveal a white T-shirt with a picture of an eagle in full flight. His jeans fit like a second skin, molding to his long, strong thighs. He looked up, meeting Jordan’s eyes. His were clear and cool, a surprising pale green with specks of gold, and for an instant she had the disconcerting feeling that he could see into her mind.
“I’m Silas Keefer,” he said in a deep, soft voice. He didn’t smile.
“Jordan Burke. Hi.” She’d heard that voice before, she thought, turning back to her patient. “Okay, Louie, we’ll get some fluids into you and then take you up to the medical center.”
Although just how she was going to accomplish that without any medical supplies or an ambulance—
“It’s slowing down now, Silas. I’ll have it stopped in a minute.” Louie’s glazed eyes looked to the man beside her.
Obviously he was in shock. Silas leaned over her patient and murmured something close to his ear. Jordan couldn’t make it out.
From somewhere nearby, she heard Christina. “I’ve got your bag here, Jordan, and the medical pack from the ambulance. The first-aid guys are bringing a stretcher. We’ll have to use a pickup to get him to the center—it’ll take too long to fix the damned tire. You want me to establish a line?”
Christina crouched beside Jordan, proving herself first-rate at finding a vein.
The flow of blood from the wound was much less than Jordan had expected, and there didn’t appear to be a severed artery or nerve damage. The saw had bit deeply into the muscle, the fleshy part of the thigh.
Jordan supervised Louie’s transfer first to a stretcher and then to the back of the pickup truck that had backed in close. Through it all, Silas Keefer helped without once getting in the way. Jordan was aware of him the whole time, as she was sometimes aware of electricity in the air before a thunderstorm.
In the back of the truck, she crouched beside her patient, feeling a little like a pioneer doctor as she steadied the drip and kept tabs on Louie’s pulse and breathing. Christina and Silas Keefer rode in front beside the driver.
At the medical center, Jordan had to argue with Louie, who refused to be airlifted to Tofino.
“What good’s having a doctor here if you’re gonna send me to the hospital over there? Can’t you sew me up right here, Doc?”
Jordan considered it. It would have been impossible if there was major nerve damage or arterial bleeding, but Louie had lucked out.
“I’d have to give you a brief general anesthetic,” she warned. Christina had said she was qualified at anesthesia, but they’d never worked together. “Wouldn’t you feel safer having this procedure done in hospital?”
“Hell, no,” Louie insisted. “You’ve sewed people up before, haven’t you?”
“Oh, yes.” Jordan grinned. “One or two.” She’d done more than her share of minor surgery in the E.R.
“Then do it, Doc. I want you to patch me up here, that way I can be home in a couple days, keep an eye on the kids for the wife. She works at the RCMP office.”
Jordan hoped she was making the right decision. “Okay, that’s what we’ll do.”
As she and Christina scrubbed, Jordan said, “That tall guy, Silas Keefer, who is he? He knew a lot about first aid, but he left before I could talk to him.”
