Chapter One
“It’s more that her just being a person who doesn’t talk much,” Savannah said as Mason opened the car door for her. “Don’t you feel like there’s something…odd?”
He shrugged, closed her door, and then opened the back door to put Tommy into his car seat. “You ready to head home, little man?”
Tommy grinned, clapped his hands and Mason chuckled as he fastened his son into the car seat. It wasn’t until he was behind the steering wheel that he answered Savannah’s question. “Maybe odd is the wrong word.”
“Then what’s the right one?”
“I don’t know. Not one for small talk, maybe? I don’t know. She’s just not the chatty sort.”
“That’s an understatement. I mean she’s very polite and if you ask her a direct question, she doesn’t blow you off or anything, but she definitely doesn’t initiate conversation.”
“True, but that actually might be beneficial,” Mason replied and at a look from Savannah continued. “Look, the people who’ll be coming here are recovering from some bad stuff. There’s a good chance they don’t want someone around who’s too chatty. Besides, like she said, they’re the ones who need to talk. She needs to listen.”
Savannah pursed her lips for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean any disrespect and like I said, she seems nice, but there’s just something… I don’t quite know how to explain it, but sometimes when I see her I think she’s got something tragic buried in her past that is still unresolved. She sometimes looks like I’ve felt and you know what I mean.”
“About your grandfather and what happened? You think there’s something like that in her past?”
“I think it’s possible. But more than that. Like, for example, why did she insist on you adding an animal rehabilitation center? What makes her think people recovering from trauma are going to want to work with wounded— And oh shit, color me embarrassed, I get it. They help something else to help themselves.”
“Now you’re on the mark.” Mason smiled and reached over to squeeze her hand. “And from what we’ve heard about her, she knows her job. She’s just picky about where she does it.”
“Then I guess you’re lucky to have gotten her to come here.”
“I think so.”
“Let’s just hope your first patient thinks so.”
“Jasper Jacks.” Mason filled in the name. “And yeah, let’s hope so, but I don’t think we should expect too much of him.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s been through hell and chances are, he’s got a lot of shit to get straight in his head before he can think of much but just making it through the day.”
“Was it that bad?”
“Whatever you think of as ‘that bad,’ multiply it by a hundred.”
“Do you think you and Dr. Whitestone can help him? Ouch, slow down there, girl.” She rubbed her pregnant belly.
“I hope so.” Mason replied and reached over to put his hand on her belly. Savannah was at the end of her second trimester and their little girl was one active baby. His touch always seemed to quiet the baby. “I sure hope so.”
“Oh, thank you.” She placed her hand on top of his. “And so do I.” She meant it. This was Mason’s dream and she wanted it to succeed. He and Grady had worked hard getting Mason’s old family home fixed up. They’d renovated the house, added on two new wings, and build what almost amounted to a community of homes for staff and employees.
There were several small two-bedroom homes for people working in the medical center, including Dr. Whitestone. Along with that were additional cabins for the ranch foreman, workers with family, and even was a bunkhouse for the single men Grady had hired to take care of the small herd of cows and half a dozen horses. He’d even hired a widow, Mrs. Karen Simpson, to handle the cooking and housekeeping chores. He and Mason wanted this to be a working ranch as well as a rehabilitation center and that required employees.
They’d also purchased land adjacent to the original homestead and had hired half a dozen people for farming. In all, they now employed fifteen people besides themselves. Savannah had put a goodly sum into the project and hoped it paid off. Not for her, but for the people who worked there and the ones who came for healing.
If nothing else, animals would be healed. Dr. Whitestone had been on-site for a month, getting things set up to her satisfaction, and had taken in half a dozen injured, wounded, or sick animals. According to Mason, it was almost magical watching her work with an animal and seeing the affinity between them.
Etta Whitestone certainly was an interesting and unusual woman. This was the third time Savannah had been around her and so far, she couldn’t say she’d hit it off with the woman. She looked into the side mirror and saw the doctor standing in the yard of Sanctuary, watching them drive away. Savannah wondered what Etta Whitestone was thinking.
*****
As much as she hated it, she just wasn’t yet comfortable with Mason’s wife. Savannah was a beautiful woman, smart and kind, but Etta got the feeling that Savannah was more empathic than she realized. There were times when Etta could sense Savannah’s curiosity almost like a touch in her mind.
And if she could feel it, perhaps Savannah could as well. That both intrigued and concerned Etta. Savannah obviously had things in her past she kept secret. It wasn’t difficult for Etta to sense that. Could that be the cause of her unease every time Savannah was at Sanctuary?
Maybe it was that old “be careful around shrinks” thing some people had. They assumed a psychiatrist was always evaluating them. Maybe, in time, Savannah would become more comfortable, but then Etta didn’t imagine Savannah would be spending a lot of time at Sanctuary. She had a family, a writing career and from what Etta had heard, a successful business to run in town. Not to mention a baby less than a year old and another on the way.
Etta watched the car until it was out of sight and then made her way to the medical wing. As she walked, she turned her thoughts to her own business. She liked that Mason and Grady had built a special wing onto the house for exams and treatment. It kept the house itself feeling homelike. And it made it easier for her to keep drugs under lock and key.
No matter how much people suffering from PTSD or other kinds of trauma wanted to heal, some came to depend on drugs for comfort and often found themselves willing to do things they wouldn’t ordinarily when they were denied access to, or were being weaned off drugs.
The best thing for everyone was to keep that part of things separate from their daily living routine. Besides, she didn’t much believe in prescribing drugs. They only masked pain and trauma, they didn’t cure, and she was one hundred percent devoted to true healing.
That thought prompted her to take a seat at her desk and access the patient files on her computer for Jasper Jacks. He was due to arrive in two days and she was more than a little apprehensive.
As she read the information again, she wondered if this case wasn’t something of a test by fire. Not whether Jasper Jacks was capable of overcoming what he’d suffered, but whether she’d find the key to making that desire uppermost for him.
Etta had treated hundreds of cases of PTSD and had worked with hundreds of military personnel who’d returned home missing limbs from IEDs, or wounds so serve that amputation was the only way of saving their lives. She’d worked with people who bore no outward scars, but would carry mental wounds the rest of their lives.
Through every one of those cases, she’d maintained a steadfast belief that healing wasn’t just a possible outcome but a probable one. She committed one hundred percent to every patient she treated and invested her mental, physical, and emotional energy into their healing.
Some might say, and had, that she gave too much of herself and that was why, in her personal life, she was so shut down. Etta didn’t disagree. She knew she poured her heart and soul into every case. It was the only way she knew how to heal and healing had been her desire since she was five years old.
If it cost her a personal life, then maybe that was just the way it was supposed to be. She didn’t have a good track record with relationships anyway, so perhaps she was better off focusing on her work.
Yes, her work was enough. At least, that’s what she told herself every day to stave off the loneliness when twilight fell and the people she worked with went home to husbands and wives and families and she went home to whatever next patient, human or animal, needed her.
It’s enough. It’s enough, she repeated to herself, refusing to let self-pity seep in. She, like every other person alive, was where she was in her life because of the choices she’d made. Good or bad, right or wrong, she owned those choices and their consequences.
The fact that she was in her mid-thirties and alone bore testament to the fact that she’d not made good decisions when it came to men. If she had, she might be like Savannah. Married to a man she was crazy about and starting a family.
But that wasn’t where her choices had led her. Hers had led her here, to a place where people wanted to create an environment of healing and where past mistakes could be forgiven. She was grateful for the opportunity and determined not to fail. This gave her something positive to focus her energy on and she desperately needed that.
In two days, that focus would be on Jasper Jacks, but until then, there were animals in rehab who required attention. Etta exited the patient files, set the lock on the system, and headed for the animal rehab center.
Had someone pointed out that she didn’t have to be focused on work every minute of the day and she was young enough to meet someone and share a life, she would have smiled and nodded, then ignored the suggestion. She wasn’t here to find a man. Her last relationship had ended six years ago, and she didn’t know if she’d be interested in having another.
Ever.