Bobby Hutchinson - Good Medicine

“You can call me Doctor Jordan, how’s that? I’m pleased to meet you both. You came along at exactly the right moment, too. The last time I was here somebody met me, and now I’m sort of lost. Could you guys get me to the medical center? And maybe help me carry those grocery bags?”

“Sure. We’re really, really strong.” One on each side of her, they hefted her plastic carryalls over their handlebars. Taking the job as guides seriously, they talked nonstop, pointing out the band office, the school and where they lived.

They informed the smiling drivers of two pickup trucks and a man out chopping wood that they were taking Doc Jordan to her new house. They told Jordan that the man chopping wood had a wife with six fingers, and that she’d let Jordan see them if Eli asked her and said please. Jordan quickly declined the offer.

“Maybe another time.”

“Okay, whenever you like,” Eli replied expansively.

Everyone called out a friendly hello. A woman pegging flowered sheets and diapers on a clothesline smiled and waved.

“That’s Audrey. She’s got a new baby,” Michael confided.

“Yeah, and her daddy went to live with his other wife,” Eli said with a nod. “Audrey won’t let him in the door now.”

Fascinating. This had a motorcycle escort beat all to hell, and Jordan felt pretty much like an informed VIP by the time her young heroes had delivered her safely to the apartment. She gave each of them two dollars and their dark eyes lit up.

“Thanks a lot, Doctor Jordan,” said Michael.

“You need anything, just call us,” Eli added. They sped off on their bikes to spend their reward money.

Jordan’s apartment was at the back of the medical center. Using the key she’d been given, she tried to open the door, only to find it was unlocked. Inside, it smelled of fresh paint, and Jordan had to smile.

Christina had made good on her promise. The walls were a warm, light color somewhere between lemon and cream, and the apartment had improved drastically since Jordan had last seen it on her first visit.

That day, these walls had been a nauseous institutional green.

“Can you tell this was where the cops stayed overnight before they got their trailer?” Christina had groaned. “They must get this paint free from the government. I think a nice warm lamb’s wool shade for these walls, don’t you?”

“What color’s lamb’s wool?”

“I dunno.” Christina had shrugged and shot Jordan a wicked grin. “I’m just trying my damnedest to impress you. I saw it in a Martha Stewart magazine.”

Jordan smiled now, remembering. There was an exuberance about Christina that made her irresistible, and obviously Eli had inherited it.

The paint made the small area welcoming, but the place was still strange to her, and she was suddenly achingly homesick for the familiarity of the Kitsilano apartment she and Garry had shared.

But not homesick for Garry. She shivered. Over the past few weeks she’d had to alert security at St. Joe’s, and she’d called the police and threatened to get a restraining order when he had turned up at the door of the motel one night.

Cancel, cancel. No more depressing thoughts. So she had no idea how to make a fire in the iron cookstove. She’d learn. The hot plate she’d ordered in Tofino wouldn’t be delivered for a couple days, but she’d brought a lot of cereal and apples. It wouldn’t do any harm to fast a little.

She walked around, taking stock of her new home. It was clean, sparsely furnished but adequate, with mismatched furniture and an odd but generous assortment of dishes in the kitchen area. A distinctive and colorful native painting hung on one wall, and someone had obviously hand-carved the two beautiful wooden bowls on the counter.

She opened the door wide to get rid of the smell of paint, hung up her jacket on a wooden peg and began unloading the groceries. When Billy arrived with her suitcases, she’d unpack and add her own small touches to the decor, like the soft turquoise silk shawl her brother Toby had sent for her birthday.

She’d use that as a table cover. And she had an old black-and-white photo of her and Toby when they were little to put on the bedside table. One of her mother, as well.

It would soon feel like home, she reassured herself. This wasn’t the same as when she was a child, shuffled from one home to the next, sharing bedrooms and sometimes even beds with other foster kids.

This apartment was hers alone. It had been her choice to come here, and she’d do her best to turn this little place into a sanctuary.

FROM A WINDOW in the band office, Silas watched the new doctor walk past with Eli and Michael. He’d honored his promise to Christina; although he was a member of the council, he’d deliberately been absent for the initial meeting with the doctor. Instead, he’d hiked up island to visit an elderly couple recovering from a severe bout of the flu, but he couldn’t deny he was curious. Ahousaht was a small, close-knit community. The addition of someone from Away always had repercussions.

Jordan Burke was tall, maybe five-nine or ten—or maybe she only looked that tall because she was long-legged and very slender. Her thick chestnut hair, down past her shoulder blades and silky straight, was parted in the middle and tied simply at the base of her neck with a blue scarf. She was wearing faded jeans, brown boots and a hooded blue sweatshirt. She carried a navy rain jacket slung over one long, slim arm.

Eli and Michael were hoisting her grocery bags and talking a mile a minute, and he saw her smile at them. Her smile transformed her narrow face with its aristocratic long nose and full lips from almost plain to—he thought pretty and then changed his mind to beautiful. But only when she smiled.

She looked foreign. Pale, exotic, fragile. Silas made a dismissive sound in his throat and turned away from the window.

She wouldn’t last long. He’d bet the council would be hiring another doctor within six weeks. Strength and endurance were essential in this wild, remote location. Fragile flowers didn’t thrive in Ahousaht.

JORDAN HAD JUST FINISHED hanging her jacket in the small closet and was assessing how much space the drawers of the rickety chest gave her when she heard a knock at the door. She hurried to open it, hoping it was Billy with her suitcases, but Christina stood there, navy shirt accentuating the dramatic angles of her high cheekbones.

“Welcome, Jordan,” she said with a wide smile. She handed her a bouquet of wild roses in a glass canning jar.

“Hey, Christina, thank you so much. Come in. I met your adorable son and his friend. Thanks for sending them to escort me from the boat.”

Jordan put the flowers in the middle of the table.

“I wanted to be there myself, but there was a minor emergency. Did the boys give you the rundown on the entire population?”

“Only their immediate families and everyone we passed. I can’t wait to pump them for more.”

“They’re nosy little demons. I just hope they never find out about blackmail.”

Jordan waved an arm at the walls. “Thanks for the paint job, I love the color.”

“Lambskin duvet, just like I promised.” Christina glanced at the grocery bags. “I hope you didn’t make lunch yet. Mom wondered if you’d like to come and eat with us?”

Jordan glanced at her watch, suddenly aware that it was past noon and nerves had kept her from having anything but coffee that morning.

“Thanks, Christina. I’d love to, but I’m waiting for Billy to bring my suitcases. He should be here any minute. Can you wait?”

“Sure. No rush. Mom’s serving stew, it’ll keep.”

“Please, sit.” Jordan gestured at the brown tweed couch. “Do you want to call her? I have my cell phone—”