More Than Magic (10 page)

Exactly, Dr. Grace.

“Oh, well, this one’s about illicit drug production.” Nick kept his eyes on her back, watching for any reaction.

“Like I said. What on earth does Patton Springs have to do with that?” she repeated, not missing a step.

Now you are stuck, McKenzie. Do you poke again and risk tipping your hand? Is she that good an actress?

“Well, I’m trying to draw parallels and contrasts between the kind of people who traffic and use cocaine and the kind of people who cook and use meth.” He focused a moment on negotiating a rocky outcropping in their path. “It meant research in Colombia, then New York, then up here, and, eventually, Atlanta.”

He tried to see her face, but she was quiet, head down, listening intently as she walked, so he forged on with the tale that he had rehearsed, playing out the line.

“It’s been done before, but I’m trying a narrower focus with this story. There are a lot of misunderstandings about the disparities and class distinctions. Despite the stereotype, the majority of crack users are white, for example. What it comes down to is showing how the drugs change the lives of the real people who create and traffic them—the impact on their families and children. Then I contrast and compare the impact on the lives of the real people who
use
them—
their
families and
their
children. It sounds complicated, but it really is simp—”

She had stopped and he nearly ran her down, skidding to an awkward halt on the leaves.

“Whoa!”
Did I hit a sore spot?

She looked surprised. But not the kind of surprised he’d expected.

“That sounds amazing. I had never really thought about it that way before. I mean, I
know
that we have meth labs around here. But— I can’t imagine— Illicit drugs aren’t my area of expertise at all.” She shook her head and smiled—
smiled
—at him. “I imagine there’s a wide disparity between the users of cocaine and methamphetamines because of the cost differential and the ease of production. And then there would be differences in access to healthcare and the way they’re handled in the judicial system. Gathering and analyzing all that information, then putting it in the form of a fictional story. How fascinating.”

Even with that stupid hat on—with wisps of dark red hair escaping from the brightly colored knit to flutter against her cheekbones—she was mesmerizing. And those vivid green eyes regarding him so intently. She was actually
interested
in this nonexistent book that he wasn’t writing. And despite the fact that she sounded like a professor, he did like the sound of her voice.

A drop of moisture slid onto his chin and he jumped. Was he drooling while he stood here gaping at her? He swiped his jacket sleeve across his sweaty face.

“You look like you are running quite a fever.”

Her concern was sincere. Either she was the best damn actress in the world or…he was back to his conclusion that his instincts were shot to hell and he needed to get out of here.

Maybe he
should
go write a book before it was too late. He had enough stories to tell.

Before he had time to react, she had pulled her hand out of her glove and reached for his face.

When her fingers touched his temple, a cool cascade slid through him, like water over long-parched ground.

Not exactly the sensation he had expected—

As Grace had expected, his skin was hot—he even shivered a bit at her touch. And with that telltale shudder, she almost pulled away. But beyond the obvious heat from the fever she could sense something else—a brooding pestilence slithering away from her touch. If she closed her eyes, she was sure she would see some malignant darkness lurking at the edges of her vision.
 

For a moment she hesitated. Every impulse told her to retreat, but another, stronger instinct held her there, calling on her to close her eyes and delve deeper. Only a little bit deeper—

“I’m sorry—”

She heard Nick’s voice as if from a distance, but it was enough to wake her. Jerking her hand back, she was surprised by how cold the air suddenly felt against her skin.

As if he realized he hadn’t really done anything to warrant an apology, Nick looked down at himself in confusion. “What happened?”

Steadying her whirling head and queasy stomach, Grace said, “You have a fever. You need to take something—”

“I
know
that. But what happened just now?”

“You
know
that you have a fever? And yet you came out— Of course you know. You—You are either stupid or insane. I can’t tell which.”

“Wha— Why are you yelling at me?” Nick reached up and touched his forehead, right where her fingers had been.

Grace softened her tone. “I’m not yelling.” For a moment her fingers tingled with the memory of his shivering response to her touch. She yanked off her other glove. Taking off her pack, she sifted through the contents and pulled out a packet of powder. “Do you have any problem taking aspirin?”

“No, but it doesn’t usually…I mean…no.” He stuttered to a stop.

She refrained from glaring at him as she handed him the packet. “These are some fever reducing herbs. Unless you have some unusual allergies, you should be okay to take them.”

Nick looked at the packet, clueless. “How?”

“Dissolve it in water.”

“Actually, I feel a lot better now.” He rubbed his hand across his brow and looked utterly confused.

“It won’t last.”
And that so-called parasite in there is much bigger than one packet of herbs.
She pulled her gloves back on and hefted her pack. “Your fever seems to have broken for the moment, but you should still take it.”

He obediently pulled out his water bottle and unscrewed the top. He held the unfolded packet over the opening. “All of it?”

She nodded, folding her arms to calm her skittering nerves and hide her hands, which had started to shake.
Dammit, dammit, dammit. Why did I touch him?

Nick made some rather comic faces. “
Gah
. Why does it have to taste so bad? Couldn’t you mix some sugar with it?” But he resumed drinking, his eyes on her the whole time.

For a moment, she saw Tink, sitting in her hospital bed, her brown eyes far too big in her pale face
. “Dr. Grace, why does the good medicine taste bad sometimes?”

“Are you all right? You look a little pale yourself,” he said after he had finished.

“I’m fine.”
But I shouldn’t have touched you.

“I guess I may have overdone it, huh?” There was a hint of apology in his voice.

“I think that’s an understatement.”

“I swear, the doctor said I could resume normal activities,” Nick said, then looked a bit sheepish. “I suppose that means hiking in the mountains isn’t ‘normal’.”

“I suspect not.”
Either you don’t realize you aren’t in remission any longer or you do and you’re ignoring it. Either way, you shouldn’t be out here.
Grace sighed. “Perhaps it would be best if you went back to your doctor to be checked out thoroughly. You don’t seem to have fully recovered—”

“No. They said I was fine.”

The answer was almost too quick. And a muscle in Nick’s jaw twitched, giving away his agitation. So, all signs point to stubborn.

“Well, I’m not a doctor, but, at a minimum, you need lots of rest. I can recommend some dietary changes that will help, plus probiotics and vitamins, if your doctor hasn’t already?”

He shook his head, looking like nothing so much as an animal caught in someone’s headlights.

Grace frowned. “Well, some doctors
are
a bit conservative about alternative medicine, but if you can tell me the name of the…
parasite
you have
,
I can recommend some herbs that might have a real benefit.”

Nick’s face was a study in concentration. “I told you. I have no idea, Grace. It was about twenty-seven letters long.”

The sound of her name tingled in her ear. It must be the way he said it, in that mellow voice of his. He had said her name before, hadn’t he?

“Well, that does make it a little difficult, but if you have any of your prescriptions, I might be able to surmise—”

“I don’t—I don’t think natural remedies are really my thing.”

Why in the name of all that is holy did you choose our mountain? You could’ve gone to any bed and breakfast around here, or another farm!

“But. You. Just. Swallowed. One.” She enunciated carefully, as if he was having trouble hearing her. He actually did seem to be having trouble focusing as he stood there shivering. And suddenly
she
felt cold.

“I mean—” Nick’s jaw twitched again, and he was looking everywhere around them except at her. “Let me think about it. It’s—it’s been a rough few months and I’m just tired of…I’m just tired.” He seemed to slump, standing there.

I shouldn’t have touched you.

When he finally looked up in response to her long silence, those lovely gray eyes of his had gone dull. Grace wasn’t sure if the sudden pang in her chest was empathy or something else, but she felt a desperate need to see that smile of his again.

“Tired,” she repeated. “Tired is understandable, given your idea of resuming normal activities. However, I’d say that a nice
normal
hot lunch followed by a nice
normal
nap in the sun would get things back a little closer to
normal
.”

The side of his mouth quirked and she smiled broadly at him, encouraged. “Perhaps tomorrow, once you recover from all this ‘normalness’, you could manage a soak in our mineral water. Trish did tell you about the hot tub?”

“You’re inviting me to take a bath?” he asked, then sniffed his armpits theatrically. “Do I need one?”

“Absolutely,” she responded, straight-faced.

He finally smiled, and that dimple returned in all its glory. “So, you have that healing water from the springs what—shipped up here? In barrels or something?”

She laughed. “No. There’re more than two dozen springs on the mountain, and two of them are warm mineral springs. We pipe it into the hot tub at each cabin and heat it up a bit. I’m afraid the ones in the cabins have been drained and disconnected for the moment, but we have one in our sunroom that you can use.”

He looked as if she had described heaven to him. “Sunroom?”

“Sunroom. It’s where the breakfast buffet is normally served, sort of a communal area for everyone staying in the cabins. Great views. It wraps around the back of the house and half of it is private. That’s where our hot tub is. It’s still hooked up.”

“Hot tub. Can I just stay out there for the rest of my visit?”

Grace smiled at his enthusiasm. “Well, that would be
too
much of a good thing. Short dips at first, I think. But our guests who’ve sampled both the water down in town and up here do tell us ours is more beneficial.”

“Lead on. I think if I envision that hot tub at the end of this trek, I might actually make it back.”

He did look much better, but Grace had no illusions that it was only the herbs.

She turned to head for home. “It smells like we’re going to get snow sooner than later.”
And perhaps that will make you stay put, Mr. City Man.

“But I can still use the hot tub if it snows, right?” he asked.

Grace couldn’t help it. The man had a talent for making her laugh.

Chapter Five

“Did’ya hear Dr. Grace? It’s fixin’ ta
snow
!”

Well, Nick could certainly hear the news from where he sat, basking in the sunlight that cascaded through the roof and walls of the sunroom, but he didn’t attempt to move in response. He was warm and full and, for the first time in weeks, nothing ached. He could wait for the weather report to come to him.

Somehow he had been cajoled into coming to the main house for what Grace called a simple hot lunch. He found out, too late, that it was actually the food intended for some kind of celebration tonight in honor of her grandfather’s birthday and Halloween—although she called it something like “Sah-win”.
 

But after his first bite he couldn’t manage an objection to eating it early. There was some kind of unbelievable squash casserole and fresh tomatoes along with a chunk of delicious brown bread with soft cheese. Grace hadn’t told him that it was goat cheese until he had licked his fingers clean, but it certainly didn’t taste as if
her
goats were fed garbage. Then she topped it all off with something called apple stack cake. All in all, it was the best meal he had in a while, although she wouldn’t let him have coffee, insisting on some kind of herbal tea.

He suspected it wasn’t an ordinary tea, because she’d persuaded him to rest out in the sunroom for ‘just a bit’, at which point she’d asked his permission to check his temperature—this time with a very professional looking temporal thermometer. It was normal, but he knew his blood pressure and his pulse had probably been elevated, because she had very carefully put on a pair of purple examination gloves first. Normally, this would have ruined his mood, but this time he found the experience rather…stimulating.

Sadly, she hadn’t offered to join him on the lounge chair where he was cocooned in blankets and positioned perfectly to catch the afternoon sun. Instead, she had disappeared somewhere, no doubt to produce massive quantities of drugs and control her criminal empire. But he didn’t, at the moment, give a damn. Whatever it was she had given him in that powder of hers had made him feel like a human being again. He’d drifted off to sleep for a while. He hadn’t felt this good since the doctors had pronounced him in remission.