Montana Actually (23 page)

She hated knowing exactly what was going to happen. How death was going to slowly and insidiously steal her mother from her, breath by devastating, gurgling breath. Her chest tightened so much it hurt to force air in and out of her lungs, and she reached out her hand, gripping Josh’s arm, her fingers digging into his flesh.

“Promise me you’ll keep her pain-free,” she implored, looking into his shadow-filled eyes. “She can’t suffer. She’s such a good mom, a great person, and I love her so much. You have to promise me . . .” Rising sobs stole her words and then stole her breath.

Josh made a guttural sound and pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight. He didn’t say a word but he kissed her hair, he stroked her back and he let her cry. She wanted to hide in his arms forever.

—

JOSH
hadn’t slept in over a day and he was running on adrenaline, caffeine and sadness. His day had started out euphorically with a birth, and now, twenty-four hours later, it was ending with a death. He’d have preferred it to be the other way around, but years of working in medicine had taught him that the circle of life never gave you those sorts of choices.

He was alone with Bonnie, having asked the family to step out for just a few minutes to spare them while he examined her. He checked the drainage from her chest tube and increased her pain relief. She’d held on longer than he’d expected, but with a family like hers, surrounding her in love and willing her to stay, he wasn’t surprised. Sometimes people needed permission to pass.

Death was part of his job, and as his emotionally moribund father had always said, if you got upset every time you lost a patient, you’d never get up in the morning.
Cut it out, stitch it up and move on.

In emergency medicine, Josh rarely had the time to get to know the patient, which made it easier to keep a professional distance, although he liked to think he’d always been sympathetic to the relatives. But like Katrina had said at breakfast when he’d told her about Jacinta Jane, in Bear Paw, he was part of the community now, whether he wanted to be or not. He’d lost his anonymity.

Hell, he’d lost more than that.

He’d been a guest in Bonnie’s home and eaten food she’d prepared.
You’re sleeping with her eldest daughter.
A slither of guilt pierced him.

Did she know? Would she have approved? Did it even matter? For a reason he couldn’t fathom, it did.

Despite being certain she was now deeply unconscious and not able to hear, he started talking. “Bonnie, you did an amazing job with your family,” he said, thinking of his dysfunctional one. “Your legacy’s going to live on through them in Katrina’s lovely smile, Dillon’s sense of fun, Beau’s persistence and Megan’s . . .”—he really didn’t know Megan—“. . . enthusiasm.”

He glanced up at the monitors and suddenly felt self-conscious that he was having a one-way conversation with a dying woman, but the words kept coming and he couldn’t stop them. “Thanks for the gifts of food. You didn’t have to do that but I appreciated it.” He squeezed her hand. “But you didn’t just give me food. You taught me that being a good doctor is as much listening as clinical skills.”

He made a huffing sound. “I can’t believe I just said that. Truth is, Bonnie, if I’d had my way, you’d be in the hospital at Billings or Great Falls, but you were right. You needed to be here. Half of Bear Paw’s come to the hospital tonight. There’s a candlelight vigil at the church, and I know the ranch house will be filled with casseroles and cakes in the coming weeks. They’ll look after everyone.”

Bonnie gave a rasping, rattling breath.

He closed his eyes for a moment. “I promised Katrina you wouldn’t be in pain, and I hope to God I’ve managed that.”

Placing her hand carefully on the neatly folded bedspread, he walked to the door, pausing for a moment before he opened it. He sucked in a deep and fortifying breath, because facing the McCades’ grief was like being sandblasted. He needed every ounce of professionalism to stay in control.

He opened the door. “You can all come in now.”

Katrina’s pale and tear-streaked face searched his. “Soon?”

He nodded, wishing he could do something to change this situation, but they were all powerless to do a thing. As the others filed into the room he said quietly to Katrina, “I’ll step out for a moment so it’s just Bonnie and the family.”

“Thank you.” She brushed his cheek with her lips before closing the door.

With a steadying sigh, he spun on his heel and pulled out his phone and pressed a name in his contact list. “Dad. It’s Josh.”

“So the phones work in Montana, then?” His father’s supercilious voice rolled down the line.

Josh fought the urge not to grind his teeth. This call was supposed to be about connecting, and he refused to take the antagonistic bait. “How are things?”

“Busy. I’ve been invited to be keynote speaker at the American Surgical Association’s annual conference. You?”

My patient’s dying and her daughter’s grieving and I hate that I’m powerless to change a damn thing.
But there was no point saying any of that because he knew what the answer would be.

There also was no point trying to compete with his father on a professional level, either—talking to the Bear Paw seniors about medication compliance was hardly up there with the ASA conference. “I’m learning about small-town life. There are deer in my garden.”

His father sighed and the familiar disappointment Josh always felt came with it. “I was asking about work. I saw a reference in the
American Medical Journal
to an article about emergency burr holes in remote communities. Good work.”

The praise was pleasantly unexpected. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course, if you’d done surgery—”

And we’re back
. “Dad, don’t even go there, okay. It is what it is, and besides, I just called to talk.”

Silence echoed down the line, and he had the overwhelming urge to slam his head into the wall.
Talk?
Why had he said that? His father had no clue how to shoot the breeze. He lived and breathed work.

“Google Maps,” his father said, “shows you’re near Glacier National Park. You’ve got a chance of seeing the aurora borealis from there.”

Josh was tempted to hit himself upside the head to clear his ears out. His father had actually looked up where he was living? “Yes, I’m hoping to see it.”

Katrina’s words floated in his head, and he opened his mouth before thinking. “Would you and Mom be interested in coming out at Thanksgiving?”

“I don’t think so.”

Well now, that was expected.

His father continued, “Next summer, though, on my way to Seattle if the dates work, I might swing by. See the borealis.”

This was unexpected, but he knew from experience it was unlikely to happen. “If it works out, that would be good.” His pager vibrated in his pocket. “Sorry, Dad, I just got paged. I have to go.”

“Understood.”

Before he had a chance to say
give my love to Mom
, his father had disconnected the call.

He stared at the phone momentarily confounded. As sad as that conversation was, in so many ways it had been the most positive exchange he’d shared with his father in a very long time.

The pink rays of dawn hit the windows, coloring the white walls of the hall yellow and orange and a warm red. He made his way back to Bonnie’s room, opening the door to unfamiliar and now deathly silence.

To a tableau of grief.

Kirk held Bonnie’s hand, his head resting on the bed next to hers. Shannon’s hands cradled Beau’s head on her shoulder, and Dillon and Megan hugged each other.

Katrina stood alone, her hand resting on the monitor switch, having turned off the sound. She raised her gaze to his, her green eyes full of misery and despair. “She’s . . .” Her voice cracked. “She’s left us.”

He walked straight to her, wrapped himself around her and tried hard not to cry.

—

BONNIE’S
funeral was a community event, a celebration of a vibrant and sharing life cut short far too early. The church had filled well before the service began, and people had brought outdoor chairs and sat on the lawn. Kirk had insisted that the reception be held at the ranch, and people brought food. So much food, it was as if they hoped that it would fill the empty space inside of everyone now that Bonnie was gone. No matter what Katrina put in her mouth it tasted the same—bland and sad.

Josh had sat next to her at the funeral, and there had been times when she’d needed his quiet, stoic presence next to her. At the reception, he’d offered around food, had poured drinks and had even steered Bethany away from her dad when she’d started telling him all the horror stories she knew about people who’d died from “that terrible chemotherapy.”

When the last of the mourners left Coulee Creek and each member of her family had drifted away, seeking some much-needed solitude, she’d pulled on her yoga pants and a soft T-shirt and started washing dishes. She still expected her mom to come in from the garden with her arms full of vegetables and ask her about her day. How long would it take before that feeling faded?

She raised a sudsy glass out of the sink, holding it aloft. “You always liked a nice, clean kitchen, Mom. This one’s for you.”

The screen door banged shut and she jumped before glancing over her shoulder. Surprise thudded through her as Josh walked in. “I thought you were treating a tourist with a bad burn?”

He walked up to her, his body pressing against hers as he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. “All done and Randall’s offered to be on call until noon tomorrow.”

His heat flowed into her, and her hands stilled on the dishes as tendrils of desire started to dive deep but were suddenly swamped by the overwhelming feelings of being cared for. “It’s trout season. How did you convince him to do that?”

“I told him you needed a change of scene and he agreed.” He kissed her hair. “I’ve checked the conditions, and according to the Glacier National Park website, there’s a good chance we might see the aurora borealis at Logan Pass. I figured we could take a drive up Going-to-the-Sun Road, stake out a good viewing spot and grill dinner.”

She put a plate on the drainer. “It doesn’t even get dark until around eleven.”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ve also packed chairs, sleeping bags, hot chocolate and snacks. I figure we cuddle up and watch the lights and then head home around five in the morning. I’ll buy you the big breakfast I owe you from any restaurant between the park and home. Then we crawl into bed together and sleep until noon. After that, we face the real world again.”

She turned in his arms, dripping water on him, and tried to speak against a wave of emotion that threatened to reduce her to tears. Very different emotions to the ones that had made her cry over the last week. “You’ve thought of everything, city boy.”

“You betcha,” he said, winking at her as he tried using Montana slang. “We’re going sluffing.”

She laughed. “I hope not.”

He looked gorgeously crestfallen. “Bethany told me that meant skipping school.”

“Oh, it does, but it’s also means a rockslide, and as we’re going on a steep road, that’s not what we want.”

“No,” he said his face serious. “That might make my car cadywompus.”

“Stop now,” she said, her laughter gaining momentum. A tiny spot of happiness flared in the midst of darkness.

“But I have forty Montana expressions I’ve memorized off the Net that I need to use in a sentence.”

She kissed him to shut him up.

“T
ourist season is killing me, Floyd,” Josh said emphatically as he met with the hospital administrator.

“Only a few more weeks, son,” Floyd said sagely. “Be happy. Tourist season saves our budget every year. In fact, this year it’s been so busy the extra funds are going toward buying that new crash cart for the ER you’ve been yammerin’ about.”

I don’t yammer.
Talking with Floyd was a combination of diplomacy and keeping him on task. “That’s good,” he said, appealing to Floyd’s love of the financial bottom line, “but I’m
one
physician and I can’t be spread this thin. A month ago, I had to call Katrina in to deal with an ER case because Millie and I were delivering a baby. We don’t have enough expert staff. Next summer you’re going to have to employ either another physician, a physician’s assistant or a nurse practitioner.”

Floyd nodded as he often did, but after four months of dealing with him, Josh knew it didn’t mean he agreed with him, just that he was acknowledging the words. “I see your point, son, but the problem lies with getting staff to come to Bear Paw.” He picked up a folder from his desk. “I’ve been putting off telling you this, but Millie handed in her notice today.”

“What? No.” His hand tore through his hair. He did not want to believe the news. “We can’t afford to lose her.”

Floyd shrugged. “She wants exclusively ER work.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “So give it to her. We’re busy enough.”

“Only in July and August.” He dropped the file back on his desk. “Helen and Mason have it covered the rest of the year.”

Josh hadn’t met Mason, although the hospital staff mentioned his name often. “If this guy Mason’s got it covered, why the hell isn’t he on the schedule?”

Floyd took a postcard off his corkboard. “Right now he’s in Tahiti, but he’s coming back.”

Incredulity drenched him. “You gave him time off during our busiest time?”

Floyd looked uneasy. “Not exactly. He had to quit to do this travel, but he’s coming back.”

He glared at him. “When?”

“He’s an excellent physician’s assistant, and believe me, we don’t want to lose him.”

He tried to keep a leash on his fast-fraying temper. “So you’re keeping a job open for a guy who’s not here but you’re letting Millie leave?”

Floyd’s mouth settled into an intransigent line. “We need a nurse practitioner in the clinic all year.”

Josh immediately thought about Katrina. His idea of asking her to work full-time at the clinic had stalled in the face of Bonnie’s death. Could he ask her now? Was a month since her mother’s death long enough? He didn’t know.

She’d started back as the diner’s breakfast barista a week after the funeral, and she’d been working with her father at Coulee Creek. She still came and went at the cottage when it suited her, and he missed her when she wasn’t there. By her own admission she was “doing okay,” but he’d been leery of asking anything of her just yet. With grief, it was a balancing act and timing was everything. Ask too early and get a no. Ask too late and discover she was going elsewhere to work.

He wanted her to take this job because it meant she’d stay in Bear Paw, and the idea of her leaving wasn’t something he wanted to think about. “If I can find a nurse practitioner for the clinic, will you give Millie the ER job?”

Floyd looked skeptical. “Good luck with finding someone, Doc.”

—

KATRINA
set down her book and walked over to Josh, who was sitting on the couch, quietly swearing at his computer. “Problems?”

She’d invited herself over to the cottage and cooked supper for them both, because apart from the animals, Coulee Creek was empty tonight. Her dad had left on horseback this morning with Beau, Dillon, Hunter and Lanky to check the cows in the far north pastures, close to the Canadian border. They were sleeping out before returning tomorrow, and Megan had gone to Bozeman for a few days to visit friends. The idea of being alone in the ranch house had sent her and Boy over to the cottage.

To Josh.

She hated that since Bonnie’s death, her own company wasn’t enough. And she worried she was leaning on Josh more than she should. Although superficially nothing had really changed between them—they still had an informal arrangement about getting together—underneath the surface everything had changed. Over the last few weeks, he’d been there for her in her darkest hours, soothing her with his caring and thoughtfulness.

The arrogant guy she’d accused him of being so many weeks ago was totally absent with her. He was considerate to the nth degree, and in so many small and everyday ways he brought light into the darkness of her soul. She was struggling to imagine her life without him in it, and loving him was as hard as she’d expected it to be, especially as he’d not shown any indication that he wanted anything between them to change. For her, however, everything had changed.

He tilted his head back from the screen and looked up at her. “I’m trying to send Dad the video we took at Logan Pass, but the connection keeps cutting out.”

Vivid pink, blue and green lights danced across the screen, hinting at the phenomenal natural light show they’d been awed by on the night of her mother’s funeral. She’d watched it thinking it was her mother’s way of telling her everything was fine in heaven.

“Your dad?” She couldn’t hide the surprise from her voice.

“I called him to catch up just before . . .”

She recognized his horrified expression. “Mom died.” She squeezed his shoulders. “You can talk about her without me falling apart, Josh. In fact, I want to hear her name and hear people talk about her, otherwise it’s like she didn’t exist, and that’s worse.”

“Sorry.” He put his hand on hers and pulled her around so she was sitting next to him. “By the way, I took your suggestion of inviting him and Mom here for Thanksgiving, but as I expected he said no.”

Sadness for him flittered through her. His family was so very different from hers. Not that hers was perfect, but despite their disagreements, they usually pulled together on the big things. “But you’re sending him that video?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

An ironic look wound its way across his cheeks and kicked his mouth up on one side. “Because although we can’t talk about anything to do with medicine without Dad turning it into a competition or a rant about how I should be doing surgery, it seems we apparently share an interest in the night sky.”

Astonishment made her voice squeak. “You never knew?”

He shook his head. “Did not have a clue. I know we’re never going to be close, but he did ask to see a video of the northern lights if I saw them. Now the crappy Bear Paw Internet is letting me down.”

It was the first time in quite a while that Josh had shown his frustration about Bear Paw’s lack of amenities. “So mail him a flash drive.”

“Good idea. I never thought of that. Thanks. I’ll try and get to the post office tomorrow.”

“If it helps, you can give it to me and I’ll take it after I’ve finished at the diner.”

“That would be great.” His eyes lit up. “Can you pick up my shirts from Pressed to Impress?”

The request surprised her. “I guess.”

“Great.” He kissed her on the cheek. “There’s also an order of my favorite cheese at the grocery store and I haven’t been able to get there, so if you can do that, too, that’d be awesome.”

A vague irritation rippled through her. “I did have some plans for my day, Josh,” she said, striving not to sound prickly.

“It’s just three errands in the same block.” His tone was practical. “The time it will take will be faster than what it took me to drive to my deli in Chicago.”

He had a point and she tried to shrug off the feeling of being used, but Brent’s voice penetrated her thoughts.

Trina, your schedule is easier to change than mine.

You book the hotel. I’m caught up, babe, you buy the theater tickets.

“Except, Josh, you haven’t factored in the fact that there’s no dash-in, dash-out component in Bear Paw. Each place involves at least a ten-minute conversation about how I’m doing, how Dad’s doing, how Mom is greatly missed and so it goes on.” She stood up, needing to move and shake off these unwelcome feelings of being used. “I’ll go make us some tea.”

He caught her hand and pulled her back down to the couch, his face contrite. “Hey, don’t worry about the shirts and the cheese. I’ll arrange to have them dropped off at the clinic.”

His reasonableness made her feel foolish. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” She hated that she’d let memories of Brent intrude in this way. “I guess I feel because I’m not out there saving lives, you think my time is less important.”

“Not at all, but it sounds like you’re thinking that.” He turned to face her. “I’ve been thinking it’s time you came back to nursing. I want you to work full-time as the clinic nurse.”

Stunned, she blinked at him. “What about Millie?”

“She’ll move to the ER.”

The idea had some appeal, but at the same time flutters of apprehension stirred her stomach. “Do you think it’s wise?” His blank expression made her clarify. “I mean, you and me working together when we’re . . .” And that was the problem. She no longer knew what they were exactly.

“Sleeping together?” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and traced the line of her cheekbones, the touch soft but electric. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that as well.”

Her heart kicked up at his touch and the affectionate smile in his eyes—a smile that said
you’re special
. After the amazing way he’d cared for her recently, she’d had moments when she’d wondered if he loved her, too, but for her own well-being, she’d put a restraint on hope. Now hope knocked loudly and encouragingly, and she tried not to squeal in anticipation.

She licked her lips and tried to sound composed. “Oh?”

He nodded as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I’d like you to move in with me.”

The bald words sounded in her head as loud and deafening as the clang of a cathedral bell. Hope teetered, fast needing reassurance. She cleared her throat. “Move in with you?”

“Yes.” Grinning, he leaned in, the dimple in his chin deep and appealing, and then he kissed her.

Everything inside her deliciously loosened, and she felt herself sliding toward that wonderful place he always took her.
Not yet.
With a huge effort, she pulled her body and mind back from the addictive and intoxicating promise of the kiss. “So I move in and what, exactly?”

His brows pulled down in confusion. “We live together. Share a house. Be a couple.”

Be a couple. There was no ambiguity there—an offer of commitment or marriage wasn’t on the table.
Something soft inside her turned to stone. “A mutually exclusive couple?”

This time shock lit up his eyes. “Shit, Katrina. I’m nothing like that prick, Brent. Of course we’re mutually exclusive.”

“I guess that’s something,” she muttered. Her heart hammered so hard she felt light-headed, but she pushed on, needing answers—needing to know his plans. Perhaps she had misunderstood. “Exactly how long are we going to live together for?”

“For as long as it works.”

Her breath caught in her throat as any remaining hope crashed and splattered like a melon hitting pavement. “That’s a positive approach.”

He stiffened. “Given what we’ve both been through recently, it’s the sensible thing to do.”

“Sensible?” She knew she was sounding like a parrot, repeating everything he said, but his attitude both stunned and devastated her. “How is this sensible? You’ve given up on us before we’ve even started.”

“No.” He shook his head hard. “I’m taking things slowly.”

“If we’d taken things slowly,” she said, her voice rising, “we wouldn’t have been having sex for the past three months.”

He reached for her. “I want us to be together.”

Relief softened the stone in her gut. “I want us to be together, too.”

Reassurance rippled through his eyes and he visibly relaxed. “Good, because for a moment there I thought we had a problem.”

Brent’s smooth voice oozed back into her mind.
Trina, with some compromise and understanding
on your part,
we can still make this work.

Her breath turned solid in her lungs and every part of her cramped. Oh God, it was happening again. Despite Josh’s convictions, he was more like Brent than he knew. How hard was it for any man to compromise and put her first?

She stood up, putting distance between them, because whenever Josh touched her, she couldn’t think straight. Right now she needed absolute clarity. “We do have a problem.”

He tilted his head, contemplation making two lines on the bridge of his nose appear. “You don’t think it’s a good idea to live and work together?”

She wanted to cry at his total lack of comprehension. “That’s the least of it, Josh. You want us to
live
together.”

He frowned. “Is this a religious problem?”

“No!” She wanted to shake him. “It’s a commitment problem.”

He looked genuinely confused. “I am committing. I’m committing to the next level of our relationship.”