Ian got to work with his stethoscope, asking soft questions. “Wh
ere does it hurt?” “How do you feel?” Making quiet demands. “Take a deep breath.” “Say ‘ah.’ “
Now and then he’d ask me to fetch him something from his bag—a small rubber hammer to check her reflexes, an instrument to peer into her ears, eyes, nose, and mouth. As he continued to poke and pry, she began to question him.
“Where are you from?”
“Who are your people?”
“What clan is your mother?”
“Who taught you the old ways?”
“Why did you come here?”
“Do you plan to stay?”
And last but certainly not the least embarrassing: “Are you married?”
Ian answered every query with jovial patience. However, by the end of the inquisition, my patience was frayed. Quatie was obviously checking him out to see if he was good enough for me.
At last the exam, and the interrogation, was finished. Ian straightened and stepped back, leaning over his bag and pulling out a jar of balm that matched the one he’d given me.
“Use this for your aches, ma’am. I think it will help.” She screwed off the cap, took a whiff, then nodded in approval. “Rattlesnake oil. I’d run short.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that before asking, “How is she?”
“I’m wearing out,” Quatie said, and shot me a glare when I began to protest. “Truth is truth. The body wears down. The only way to completely cure what ails me would be to get another.”
“Barring that,” Ian said, “use the balm. Alternate ice and heat. Rest. Eat well. Exercise as much, but as carefully, as you can.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” She reached for his hand, then sandwiched it between hers, peering at him as if he were a long-lost grandson. “I’d love to talk to you more about the old ways.”
He patted her shoulder with his free hand. “I’d be happy to.”
“Now?” she asked.
Ian glanced at me.
“I... uh—” I had to get to work, but I didn’t want to take him away when she was so clearly enjoying him.
“I’m afraid I have appointments.” Ian tried to remove his hand, but Quatie held on, and he let her. “Contractors. Painters. But I’ll come another day.”
Quatie released him.
We left her on the porch enjoying the sun and returned to Lake Bluff.
“Sorry about the third degree. She was my great-grandmother’s best friend and—” I broke off.
“She wants to make sure my intentions are honorable. I understand.”
I kept my eyes on the road; I couldn’t look at him.
“She doesn’t want you hurt,” he continued softly. “Neither do I.”
There was something in his voice I couldn’t read. But his face was open and honest. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I said nothing. A short while later I pulled up in front of the clinic.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said, then leaned over and kissed me. Before I could respond, he was gone.