Watching them, the way they held each other, made Montana smile. This was how it was supposed to be, she thought. People could love each other until death parted them. Sometimes, at the end, love was all that was left.

Rather than being hurt or feeling rejected, she should feel sorry for Simon. He didn’t believe in couples like the Spangles. He believed in being alone.

As not seeing him again didn’t seem to be an option, she would simply have to remember that she wanted different things than he did. While being with him was fun and making love with him was extraordinary, at the end of the day, he wasn’t anyone she could depend on. Recognizing that now would allow her to protect herself. She hoped.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” Fay said, from the other side of Kalinda’s bed. The girl’s mother was frantic, practically wringing her hands as she stood guard, desperate to do something. Anything.

“She has a fever and it’s climbing,” Simon told her.

Worse, Kalinda was barely conscious.

“I know that part. I sit with her every minute of every day. What I want to know is why now? What is happening to her?”

He closed the chart. “I don’t know,” he admitted, leading Fay into the hallway. “There are several possible causes. She could have an infection, she could have caught a virus or her body could be reacting to the burns.”

“But it’s been nearly a month since the accident.”

Fay Riley had no idea what her daughter had been through, he thought grimly. No matter that she’d stayed faithfully, had watched her suffer, had done her best to make things better. She couldn’t understand the depth of the damage, the incredible strain the injury put on the rest of the body.

He thought about explaining. There were technical words he could use, pictures he could show. But to what end? She would still be a frightened mother, dealing with a very sick child.

“I think it’s unlikely she has a virus. We’ll check for infection, but I don’t think it’s that, either. The healing process for what Kalinda is going through is massive. If we use the example of having to climb Mount Everest, then Kalinda has barely started on the plane trip taking her to Nepal.”

The woman stared at him. Her color drained as her eyes widened. “Are you saying she could still die?”

The truth was, she could die, he thought, but he wasn’t going to say that. Still, Fay must have guessed. Tears filled her eyes as she covered her mouth. Then she bent slightly and gave in to the sobs.

“I can’t lose her,” she gasped. “Not after all this. You have to save her.”

“We’re keeping her comfortable, helping as best we can. It’s up to her.”

Fay straightened and glared at him. “She’s only a little girl.”

“I know.”

He knew more than she gave him credit for. He’d been where Kalinda was now—suffering, close to death.

Fay continued to cry. He shifted uncomfortably, wanting to excuse himself.

“Maybe we should speak later,” he began.

She nodded and turned away.

He took a few steps toward the nurses’ station, then glanced back. Fay stood in front of the door to her daughter’s room, her arms wrapped around herself, her body still shaking from the sobs.

He’d faced situations like this before and usually found it easier on everyone if he simply walked away. Getting involved only complicated an already difficult process. Still, he found himself walking toward her, then pulling her around to face him.

“I’m sorry,” he told her.

She nodded once, then went into his arms.

He held her while she cried, knowing he had very little else to offer.

After a few minutes, the tears stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, stepping back and wiping her face.

“Don’t be. You’re dealing with a lot.” He hesitated. “I really am doing my best to save her.”

“I know.” She swallowed. “I should get back to her.”

“I’ll be by in a few hours. If anything changes, have me paged.”

“I will. Thank you.”

He watched her go, then started down the hallway.

Kalinda needed more surgeries. The problem was he couldn’t do anything until she was stronger. The fever would leave her even more weak.

His time in town was limited. The way things were going, he would be lucky to operate on her twice before he had to go. She was facing dozens more procedures. Which meant someone else would be seeing her through the next few years.

Usually he didn’t mind if other physicians finished what he’d started, but something about Kalinda made the situation different. Maybe it was because she talked about wanting to be a doctor, like him. He could tell that her injury had already had a profound effect on the way she viewed herself and her future.

“Let it go,” he told himself as he checked his messages.

An hour later he was back in his office. There was no Cece to greet him. Montana had left a note saying she was taking the dog to a nursing home that day.

He found himself missing the small crate in the corner and the wildly excited greeting whenever the dog saw him. He’d never been much of a dog person, but Cece was changing his mind.

He buried himself in paperwork, catching up on his charting and scanning a couple of journal articles. Just before lunch, he heard a knock on his door.

“Come in.”

He knew better than to expect Montana, but he was still disappointed when a tall, well dressed woman entered his office.

“Dr. Bradley,” she said with a smile.

“Dr. Duval.”

The hospital administrator was one of those frighteningly efficient women who managed to get her point across with a single lift of her eyebrow.

“How are you enjoying your time here in Fool’s Gold?” she asked, taking the chair across from his.

“Everyone has been very friendly and cooperative.”

“That’s the kind of town we are.” She glanced toward the corner where the dog crate was kept. “I see Cece isn’t with us today.”

“No. Montana wanted to take her to a local nursing home.”

“Interesting young woman, our Montana,” Dr. Duval said. “It took her some time to decide what she wanted to do with her life. Working with the therapy dogs seems to be her calling. She’s done some extraordinary work.”

In his experience, hospital administrators focused on the logistics of running a hospital. There were a thousand details to be managed—personnel, patients, supplies. Usually those in charge were not familiar with things like therapy-dog programs and how well those running the programs were doing in their personal lives. But very little about Fool’s Gold was like any place he’d ever lived before.

“I heard Kalinda is having some trouble,” she continued. “Such a small child to endure such a horrible accident. If the dog helps, I’m grateful you’ve allowed the dog to be here.”

He knew there was more to the conversation. Dr. Duval hadn’t stopped by just to chat. So he leaned back in his chair and waited.

The wait wasn’t long.

“As we discussed when you first came here,” she began, “we’re having a fundraiser in a couple of weeks. I wanted to confirm that you’ll be attending.”

He doubted that confirm was the right word. She was here to make sure he planned on attending, and if he put up a fuss she would find some way to force him. He knew the type. Dr. Duval was the kind of woman who got things done, which made her someone he respected.

He didn’t want to go to the fundraiser. Being the focus of attention in a room with two or three hundred people was his personal idea of hell. But it was one of the costs of doing business.

“I’ll be there.”

She looked both surprised and relieved. “I’m glad to hear that. Having you here is an incredible gift, but you don’t come cheap.”

He smiled. “I’m confident the cost is worth it.”

“It is.” She leaned toward him. “You could have charged us more. Your fee is the least of it.”

“I get more than enough out of what you pay me.”

What he did had made him relatively well-off. He didn’t need to gouge local hospitals for sport. Most of the costs of having him came from the fact that he required the hospital to allow uninsured patients free of charge. If someone needed his help, they got it, regardless of their ability to pay.

This forced the hospitals to raise money both before and after his visit. But it meant children like Kalinda had a chance.

She rose. “I look forward to seeing you at the fundraiser. Will you be bringing anyone?”

There was Montana. While a part of him wanted to see her dressed up, wanted to spend the evening with her, maybe even dance with her, he had his doubts about this kind of event.

“I haven’t decided.”

Dr. Duval’s gaze was steady. “Let me know either way, so we can accommodate your guest at the table.”

She left.

Simon drew in a breath. What he should do for Montana was at odds with what he wanted to do for himself. He didn’t usually indulge in moral dilemmas. But then he didn’t usually indulge himself with women like Montana.

DENISE WAS GETTING a little concerned that the people at the winery tasting room were going to start charging her rent. She supposed she should find a second place for her string of hideous first dates, but the tasting room was so convenient. They served “small bites” of food, the wine was excellent and she doubted there was a better view in a fifty-mile radius. All of which were very helpful when one was meeting strange men.

Her latest first date was with a man named Art. They’d met online, something she didn’t usually do, but…desperate times and all that. He’d been in the “over fifty” section. No more younger men for her.

As she walked into the tasting room, she searched for a man who looked like the picture she’d seen on her computer. He’d had nice eyes and slightly graying hair that was a little curly.

“Denise? I’m Art. Nice to meet you.”

It was all she could do to keep her mouth from falling open. The man standing in front of her was barely her height, nearly as wide as he was tall, with a few wisps of white hair. She saw some resemblance to the man in the picture she’d been sent, but the man in front of her was more his father than anything else. She’d been looking for a guy in his fifties. Her date had to be pushing seventy.

“Art?”

“Yep. Nice to meet you. I’m a little surprised.”

He was surprised? If they had a contest about that, she was pretty sure she would be the winner.

“You look just like your picture,” he told her. “That almost never happens. Lucky me.”

“Yes, lucky you,” she murmured.

They got a table on the patio. It was barely four in the afternoon, but an awning protected them from the sun. The server came around and they each ordered a glass of wine. Red for her, white for him. Art asked for a couple of cubes of ice in his. When the server flinched, Denise did her best not to cringe.

“So tell me about yourself,” Denise said, knowing she was stuck for at least half an hour. Then she told herself she shouldn’t be so quick to judge Art. He was probably a very nice man. If she gave him a chance, maybe they would hit it off.

“I’m retired,” he began. “I live east of Sacramento, in a nice little mobile-home park. Got me a double-wide. But I’m thinking of moving to Florida. Love Florida. There’s lots of fishing. You fish?”

“Not so much.”

“You should try it. It’s great fun. I’ve been looking at some real estate online. I can’t decide between a condo or a patio home. I don’t want to worry about a yard.” He grinned. “At my age, you always got to be concerned about a heart attack.”

The server returned with their wine and a mini quesadilla.

Art swirled his glass, clinking the ice cubes together, then took a sip. He smacked his lips together. “That’s a fine wine.” He looked over the quesadilla. “I’m really not supposed to have a lot of cheese,” he said, then grinned. “What the hey. You only live once, right?”

He picked up the whole quesadilla and swallowed it in two bites. Then he looked at Denise. “Did you want some of that?”

“I guess not.”

Art seemed unfazed by her response. “We can order another one.”

“That’s okay. I’m not hungry.”

They spent the next ten or fifteen minutes discussing the ins and outs of retirement financial planning. Art was very proud of his 401(k). He also told her in great detail what she should look for when she had to pick a Medicare supplement.

“I’m a few years from Medicare,” she said faintly.

“It’s never too early to start getting prepared.”

“I suppose.”

So far she hadn’t touched her wine. As a rule, she didn’t like to have a glass without having something to eat, but she wasn’t going to order more food. That would not only be awkward, it would mean she would have to stay longer.

She checked her watch. It had only been twenty minutes. Was there something wrong with the earth’s rotation? It felt like an hour had passed. She sighed.

“What else do you like to do?” she asked. So far they had only talked about Art, but she was okay with that. It wasn’t as if they were going to have a relationship.

He set down his glass and leaned toward her. If she didn’t know better, she would swear he was leering at her.

“I still enjoy those bedroom games,” he said with a wink. “I wouldn’t mind doing a round or two of the escaped prisoner and the warden’s wife, if you’re interested.”