Both men looked up quickly. “What does that mean, Nonny?” Rubin demanded. “You aren’t feeling ill, are you?”
“No, no. I’m fit as a fiddle. Just want this boy to get a move on. Want to see more grandbabies.”
“You don’t think Wyatt and Trap have provided enough? Good grief. Any more and we’ll be overrun with children,” Diego said. “Little vipers running around sinking their teeth into our ankles.”
“Pardon me?” Nonny asked with great dignity.
Diego paled beneath his olive skin. “You know how children go through that teething phase and want to bite your ankle. That’s what I was referring to.” He slid off the bed. “I think it best if I leave you now, Jonquille. You’re in good hands. I’m starving and the smell of food is getting to me. If I don’t eat soon, Mordichai and Malichai are going to eat everything before I get into the kitchen.”
“I think you’re slinking off,” Rubin observed. “A cowardly retreat.”
Jonquille loved listening to the brothers and the way they gave each other a bad time. Usually, they did so telepathically, but she knew they were bantering back and forth with each other aloud for Nonny’s sake.
“Retreat or not, at least I’m going to get decent food that I didn’t cook myself,” Diego declared. He bent his head and brushed a kiss over Jonquille’s cheek. “You get better fast. I think with Nonny and Rubin looking after you, you’ll be up giving us trouble in no time.”
She gave him a faint smile. Aside from Rubin, Diego was her favorite person in the entire world. Rubin gave her a little grin. You don’t know too many others very well.
That was true too. But still. Diego really was like a brother. Her heart had ached for family, now it felt as if she had that.
“There is plenty tonight, shrimp, chicken and andouille jambalaya. It’s on the stove, Diego. Fresh-baked bread. Greens. Plenty of food. The girls made cobblers for dessert. I think you’ll be happy tonight.”
“Cobbler?” Diego perked up.
Jonquille started to laugh, but the movement hurt her head. She couldn’t even grab her skull to keep it from shattering while she laughed.
I’ve got you, Lightning Bug.
Almost immediately, she felt Rubin in her mind. There were ragged breaks, little tears, that he seemed to be carefully gluing, making them seamless. He did one at a time. Not many. Just a few.
I can’t do them all or I won’t be any good later on. I have to rest in between. That’s important to remember, Jonquille. Whenever you have the chance, take it.
Rubin continued to hold her hand, but she could visibly see the difference in him. His skin was pale and there were lines of strain around his mouth.
“Nonny, when was the last time Wyatt gave you a checkup?” Rubin asked the question casually, as if it were of no importance.
The older woman laughed, the sound contagious. “You aren’t foolin’ an old woman, Rubin. It was a while ago. I’m pretty certain I’d know if somethin’ was wrong, but if it makes you feel better, you can do your mumbo jumbo and look inside me just to check.”
Jonquille felt the skitter of alarm that went down Rubin’s neck. This woman was extremely important to him, and he was suddenly very worried about her, but Jonquille wasn’t sure why. She raised one eyebrow to ask.
She would never suggest that I give her the once-over unless she’s concerned about something.
“It won’t take long, Nonny, and it would make me feel better. I appreciate it,” Rubin said immediately, as if afraid she might change her mind. He got up and went around to the other side of the bed.
Jonquille had seen him scan Patricia Sawyer using his palms, and he did the same with Nonny. He held his palms about an inch from her body as he moved them over her. Every now and then, he lingered in one spot longer than Jonquille thought he should and she found herself holding her breath. The light seemed to grow brighter and the warmth grew hotter. Nonny never complained or moved. She didn’t say he was taking too long or try to get away from what Jonquille was certain was extremely hot heat at times.
Those hands moved slowly all up and down the older woman’s body from her toes to her brain, not missing a single part, much like a scan would do. Rubin was thorough. It was Nonny. Jonquille strengthened her connection with Rubin so she could see what was going on. He was finding little problems. Arthritis. He eased that. A minor knee problem. That was fixable. He made it as good as new. A small adjustment in her back. Nonny appeared to have the body of a much younger woman. Jonquille wondered if the healers worked on her all the time or if it was genetics and her diet and the work she did.
Jonquille felt Rubin’s sudden stillness again. He’d found something he didn’t like. He was very cautious now, going through the arteries and veins surrounding her heart and neck. He inspected each one. Jonquille could see the damage in two of them, the buildup that had significantly narrowed the artery, that sudden buildup of plaque that threatened to close off the much-needed blood supply.
Rubin worked with extreme care. Nonny was older and her arteries were a little thinner than normal, although in remarkable condition. She was the epitome of a woman in good health at her age. Jonquille found it a bit shocking that Nonny could have a buildup of plaque when she ate right and did manual physical labor even at her age. She kept a large vegetable garden as well as an extensive herb garden.
Once Rubin had taken care of the arteries, he moved on to the heart, checking to make certain there were no repercussions to it. From there he examined her lungs thoroughly. Jonquille could tell he was expecting to find something there. When he found nothing, he moved on to her brain, clearly looking for evidence of small brain strokes. When he found none, he once again checked her legs to be certain he hadn’t missed anything. Only when he was positive she was going to be fine did he pull back.
He staggered and sank down onto the bed, reaching back to find the mattress as if that could hold him up. Jonquille inched her hand toward his. Their fingers touched, and he moved his hand enough to envelop hers.
“Just sit there for a minute, Nonny,” Rubin instructed. “We’ll talk when I’m up to it.”
Nonny remained quiet. She’d known something was wrong. She’d had the symptoms of a blockage and she hadn’t complained. Women like Nonny rarely did, but she’d known all along. Her son was a doctor. She was surrounded by doctors, and she should have spoken up right away. She could have had a stroke at any time.
Eventually, it was Nonny who moved first, rinsing out the soothing cloth she’d been using on Jonquille. She put the bowl aside. “I know you have to talk to Wyatt and Gator about this, Rubin. Is it somethin’ bad? I suspected. Is it the cancer?” She looked as if she braced herself for the worst news. “From my pipe? I do so love my pipe at the end of the day. I try not to smoke it every night.”
Rubin reached his other hand out to her. Nonny’s hand trembled as she took his. “You can tell me, boy. I don’ fall apart, you know. I was scared to face it for a while. Upstairs, at night, in my room, but once you got home, I knew I had to say somethin’.”
Jonquille wasn’t certain Nonny had said anything. Rubin had been listening and interpreting what she’d been saying or he would have missed it. Jonquille wouldn’t have thought to examine the woman from the little she’d said. In fact, she’d reassured them all that she was just fine. Diego had taken her at her word. Only Rubin had been alarmed. She respected Rubin all the more for his ability to understand women like Patricia and Nonny. She wanted to be able to do the same. Was it experience? Or just natural ability? She had the feeling it was a little of both.