Cheryl Reavis - Medicine Man

“Actually, I do,” he said.

She turned to go, then didn’t. “You aren’t going to go off and do something…dangerous anytime soon, are you?”

“It’s not in my plans.”

“Are you afraid?” she asked bluntly. “Of being sent someplace…bad?”

“Sometimes.”

They looked at each other—until she suddenly smiled again.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other sometime—you can tell me about your mothers.”

He didn’t say anything, despite another opening she’d given him. But she didn’t let his silence make her uncomfortable. She gave him a little wave and walked away. He watched her go, trying not to think about robots.

“Just who is that?” Grace asked, lowering her voice for once because of the crowd of people milling around them.

Arley looked steadily at both her sisters. Only Gwen seemed uncomfortable. Neither of them had the right to ask—especially Grace, whose own marriage had ended more abruptly than Arley’s had. None of the sisters knew the reason for its sudden demise, and Grace apparently had no intention of enlightening any of them. She had an entirely different view of the right to privacy when hers was at stake. All Arley knew for certain was that Grace’s husband had left, and Grace hardly seemed to notice.

At the moment, however, Arley had no desire to trade barbs about their assorted personal failures. For once, she opted to let the sisterly meddling slide.

Almost.

“You know, Grace, I’m getting a little tired of that question tonight,” she said. “Did Scott put you up to it?”

“You don’t even know that guy, Arley.”

“Grace, I was only talking to him. I’m not taking him home with me. And I do know him. His name is Will Baron. He works with Kate. I ran into him once last summer. He was nice to Scottie, okay?”

“You’re not that innocent,” Grace said, and Arley laughed.

“You sound like a pop song lyric.”

“You know how you are, Arley—and if you don’t, we do. You’re not trying to make Scott jealous with that soldier, are you?”

“Grace, please! I told you—we were just talking. He’s an interesting person. He’s from Arizona. He’s half Navajo.” She looked over her shoulder to where Will had been standing. He was no longer there.

“Well, Scott obviously didn’t like it.”

“What Scott likes or doesn’t like is not my problem. Yours, either. He had no business being here in the first place.”

“I said not to invite him,” Gwen offered in spite of the look Grace gave her. “Nobody listened.”

“He was invited?” Arley said incredulously, and several people turned to look in their direction.

“I invited him,” Grace said. “To the reception. I was trying to head off trouble. It was purely a token gesture—a courtesy to our Scottie’s father.”

“Grace! Why didn’t you tell me!”

“It was just a test, Arley! I didn’t think he’d have the nerve to actually show up. But he did, and now we know once and for all that he’s—”

“This is none of your business, Grace!” Arley interrupted, as if that had ever deterred her oldest sister. Grace’s determination was legendary in the family. It had probably cost her a husband, and it was about to cost her a sister, as well.

“It is if you don’t have enough sense to realize he might use anything you do to try to get Scottie away from you.”

“What?” Arley said, startled.

“You heard me. You know how Scott is, how his family is—or you should by now. I wouldn’t put it past him or them. And he’s not above doing something just to get back at you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“It doesn’t matter if you did or didn’t, Arley! That was then. I’m talking about right now. He’s the kind of man who needs to save face. One of these days he’s going to want to follow his grandfather and father into politics. He’s going to need to trump that unfortunate adultery indiscretion. What better way than to try to prove you’re an unfit mother and always were?”

Arley gave a sharp sigh. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You don’t have to talk. Just listen for once. You never should have married Scott McGowan in the first place—but we got Scottie out of it, and I want us to keep him. Or would you rather his father had custody—in which case Scottie would probably grow up just like him.”

“Grace, stop!” Gwen said, putting her hand on Grace’s arm. “You’re scaring her.”

“I want to scare her.”

Arley looked at both of them and shook her head.

“I’m not talking about this anymore,” she said and walked away. She was too tired to battle Grace. Her head hurt. Her feet hurt. She just wanted to get her little boy and go back to Fayetteville.

“’Bye, Arley,” Gwen called after her.

Arley waved her hand in the air to show she heard, not wanting to hurt Gwen’s feelings just because she was upset with Grace. Grace could be annoying in the best of circumstances, more so when she was right. Scott McGowan wasn’t above trying to get custody of Scottie—even if he didn’t deserve it. He had made it his life’s work to acquire things he didn’t deserve—passing grades in college, business promotions, Arley Meehan. And he hadn’t deserved her, not her love or her faithfulness or her willingness to believe in him far beyond what anyone with any sense would have done.

Even so, she could truthfully say that she hadn’t been a complete idiot where Scott was concerned, regardless of what her sisters and everyone else might think. There was no denying that she had loved him, loved his wildness and his charm, so much so that she had been willing to ignore her growing lack of respect for him for a long time. But the day eventually came when she couldn’t pretend anymore, when she couldn’t let her emotions get dragged back and forth with every promise made and every promise broken. She had to walk away—for her son’s sake, if nothing else. She had managed to do it—permanently—in spite of Scott’s renewed “repentance” when he realized that, for once, he was going to suffer the consequences of his behavior.

“Arley!” someone called behind her—her uncle Patrick.

“You’re not leaving already, are you—and without a goodbye for your old uncle?”

“I’m ready for hearth and home, Uncle Patrick.”

“Well, I know the feeling. It was a fine wedding, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling a ridiculous urge to cry.

“You hug that darling boy for me—and mind how you go.”

“I’m a careful driver, Uncle Patrick.”

“It’s not the driving I was meaning.”

She looked into his kind blue eyes. “You’ve been talking to Grace.”

“Have not,” he said. “I’ve been using my God-given eyes. And I’m not liking what I see, my girl. You and I both know Scott McGowan can get himself up to no good.”

She sighed heavily. “Well, I am on the high side of suspicious,” she said, and her uncle laughed.

“And that’s a definite improvement—if you don’t mind my saying so.”

She didn’t. The remark coming from him didn’t bother her nearly as much as it would have if it had come from one of her sisters.

A large number of guests seemed to be making their way back into the pub.

“No rest for the wicked,” Uncle Patrick said. “Are you sure you don’t want to rejoin the festivities?”

“I’m sure. I’ll bring Scottie to see you soon. He’s got some new additions to his rock collection he wants to show you.”

“The sooner, the better,” he said, giving her one of his bear hugs, the kind that always made her feel better but this time brought her even closer to tears.