What We Find (Sullivan's Crossing, #1)(95)

Filling the well.

Cal was taking a few clients besides the eminent Dr. Sullivan. A variety of simple cases—things like real estate sale and purchase, rental agreements, one prenup, a couple of wills and a couple of misdemeanor defenses. His office was Sully’s front porch or kitchen table. Now that fall was here, he went to Denver with Maggie whenever he could, which was most of the time.

He did snag a weekend to fly to Minnesota to visit his youngest sister, who agreed to speak with him. As it happened, her issues were limited mostly to addiction. Their family life and dysfunction certainly didn’t help, but she didn’t suffer from schizophrenia. In fact, Sierra had been in touch with Sedona and together they had laid down the family roots—it seemed probable Jed Jones was among that number of schizophrenics, some 63 percent, who had no family history.

“Tom told me Jackson is getting along great,” Cal told Maggie as they drove to the crossing. “You’d never know he had some whacko woman drill holes in his head out in the wild.”

“Did Tom ever get his drill back?” she asked.

“I have no idea. But Jackson is the star of PT. He’s taking a semester off from school, maybe two. He wants to get caught up. He’s still having some memory and cognitive issues. Not serious though. He’s about as infirm as someone who had a very mild stroke and it looks like full recovery is just around the corner. You do good work.”

“That’s my first and last time doing something like that,” she said.

“You were never sexier.”

“How would you know? You fainted!”

“That’s a lie!” he said. “I got a little woozy. That’s all.”

“Hey. You turned too soon,” she said. “You’re lost.”

“I’m not lost, I want to show you something,” he said. “Have you ever been out here?”

“Probably,” she said. “We’re not all that far from Sully’s. Nothing much out here.”

“Pretty though,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“You can’t find a part of Colorado that isn’t pretty.”

“Did you know Tom was raised in this area? His dad was a rancher. Tom said when he was a kid he expected to grow into that job, but then his life took a different turn and in the end it was probably better because he said his dad had to sell the property.”

“I didn’t know all that,” she said.

He turned down a pretty, tree-lined lane and followed it until it opened up into a pasture with a big barn. He stopped the car. “Are we on private property?” she asked.

“I’m sure, but the only part of that I care about is the private part. Isn’t this a nice scene to make out to?” he asked.

It was indeed beautiful, a big old barn sitting in a crop of trees in the middle of a pasture on a wide, deep plateau. Mountains to the west, a valley to the east, a babbling brook just south of the structure. He put an arm along the back of the seat, around her. “You know, I’ve been in love with you since about the first day,” he said.

“When I brought Sully back to the crossing after his surgery?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Before that. When you were taking care of that old guy who was lost and confused. Then minutes later you were handling Sully’s emergency. Barking orders, taking charge, confident, powerful, and yet so gentle. I knew right then I’d never known anyone like you in my life.”

“I was a wreck that day,” she said.

“I wanted you right then.” He laughed a little. “You really gave me a hard time.”

“I didn’t trust you at all, California,” she said.

“I learned a few things in the last couple of years, Maggie. Or maybe I should say, I remembered a few things. Since I was a little kid I wanted to feel settled and safe. I wanted the respect of the people who knew me, I wanted a family I could devote myself to, I wanted to learn the kind of everyday wisdom Sully has. Being widowed screwed me up. I was too lonely. But that changes if you’ll marry me. I think we can do this, Maggie. I never thought I would know love like this—I never thought I could feel this kind of bone-deep passion, yet a sweet peace and steadiness. You changed my life. And it needed changing.”

“And can you have that if I keep doing what I do?” she asked. “Because what I do tends to have its complications. The majority of my cases are routine and require training and good hands, but there are times... You can’t dare to take brains and spinal columns into your hands with impunity. It’s risky. It’s stressful.”

“It’s admirable,” he said. “Maggie, I think you know yourself well, yet I’m not sure you realize just how amazing you are. It’s not a lack of confidence, not at all. It’s more that your focus is not on yourself when you act. You do exactly what you realize is within your scope, even when it takes a toll. I wouldn’t have another wife if she wasn’t you. I’m sure of it.”

“Can you be happy in a rumpus room?” she asked.

“For a year or so,” he said. “We’ll also be in Denver sometimes. But I’ll be here a lot. If it works for you.”

“Here?” she asked.

“See that barn? The barn and the land it sits on are for sale.”

“Huh,” she said, confused. “You going to get horses or something? Maybe bring in a double-wide we can live in?”