Dr. Sara Ferrin was a tall, competent Black woman with a no-nonsense bedside manner. But Remi wasn’t fooled by her cool, professional demeanor. The woman was wearing Ferragamo pumps in the health center at the end of February. There was a human being with great taste beneath that white coat.
Unfortunately, right now, that human being was judging her. Racing into a rescue situation with no training. Going without a rescue inhaler for weeks. There would be no lollipops for Remi from the inimitable Dr. Ferrin.
“It was the cold and probably a bit of the adrenaline,” Remi said, wincing at the cold stethoscope on her back.
“Mmm,” Dr. Ferrin said.
“Oh. And then there was the yelling,” she added. “I did a lot of yelling. So that probably didn’t help.”
“You know what would help?” the doctor said mildly. “If you’d be quiet while I tried to listen to your lungs.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Remi said. She felt compelled to further apologize but then decided the doctor would probably rather she shut her mouth.
So she sat still and breathed as she was told while Dr. Ferrin moved the stethoscope around her back.
“Okay,” the doctor said, sitting down on the rolling stool. “I think you got the albuterol in time to beat a more serious attack. But since I have you here, I’m going to want to run a test or two. Now, let’s talk.”
Talk. This was when Remi would have batted her eyelashes at the former island doctor and told him a funny story, and he’d let her off without a lecture.
Assessing brown eyes unwilling to be charmed studied her. “How is your condition management?”
“I manage it fine…usually,” Remi added.
“You were in here just days ago with your friend who was injured while messing around on the ice bridge. You’ve got a broken arm, and this is your second serious asthma attack in what? A month?”
“Yes, but—”
“That doesn’t sound like management,” Dr. Ferrin observed.
“There were extenuating circumstances.”
“Seems like a lot of extenuating circumstances to me. I’m not saying that you’re purposely making terrible decisions. I’m saying trouble is attracted to certain people, and you are most definitely one of them. However, you did rescue Mr. Kleckner, and I am awfully fond of him and his wife. So that weighs heavily in your favor.”
“Did you see him? Is he okay?” Remi asked.
“Mr. Kleckner will be fine. Thanks to you and our fine emergency services. Let’s talk about what you do when you’re not in the midst of extenuating circumstances. Tell me about your prescriptions, your exercise, your diet.”
“Don’t you have other patients to see?” Remi asked weakly.
Dr. Ferrin’s smile was sharp. “It’s your lucky day. There isn’t a ton of doctoring going on in February on an island of five hundred. Now, prescriptions, exercise, diet. Talk. And if there’s enough time left over, maybe we can figure out when your cast can come off.”
Forty minutes later, Remi stepped into the waiting room with three fresh prescriptions and a host of medical advice about how she was living her life all wrong.
Worse yet, Brick was still there. Standing hip-shot, arms crossed, staring at her as if he’d been willing her to appear.
“Well?” he asked.
“Everything is fine,” she said.
“Good. Come on.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Brick.”
“I’m not babysitting you. I’m feeding you lunch because you earned it and then taking you home.”
“I earned it?”
He sighed and held the door open for her. “If you hadn’t gone to visit the Kleckners, it might have taken Lois a lot longer to check on Ben. He could have been out there for an hour or two before anyone realized he was missing. His tracks would have been gone.”
“So I wasn’t incredibly irresponsible?” she asked, fishing for a compliment.
“Maybe not in this case. Though not wrecking their snowmobile would have been a better solution.”
“That wasn’t my fault.”
He held up a big hand. “I know. That thing has needed an overhaul for fifteen years.”
“Where are you taking me for lunch?” she asked, suddenly starving.
The Cherry Blossom Cafe was a little lakefront place with water views and really good pies. Remi settled into the cherry red booth and rested her head against the cushion for a moment before opening her eyes to study the man in uniform across from her.
He looked as exhausted as she felt.
They placed their orders without making any eye contact and when the server skedaddled, Brick stared down at the stainless steel tabletop.
“You didn’t call me,” he said finally.
“No. I didn’t. I called my mother.”
“I didn’t like it.”
“I’m not apologizing for that,” she said.
“I’m not asking you to.”
“Then why are you telling me.”
His sigh moved those massive shoulders up, then down. “I don’t really know.”
The buzz of the heater above them filled the silence. The snow outside turned finer, like dust.
“You scared the hell out of me today,” he said.
“Why?” she scoffed. She’d been born and raised on this island. She knew the trails, the woods. She understood the dangers of winter.
“You scare the hell out of me every day, Remi.”
She shook her head. “Let’s not. I don’t want to do this.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t want you to let me in just a little. Give me just a glimpse of what goes on in your head. Because you’re just going to shut me out again. You’re just going to reject me and tell me I’m not good enough or not what you want or get pissed off about something I do. So let’s not.”
“Remi.”
“Brick.”
“I don’t know how to be what you want.”
She looked up at the ceiling and took a breath. “You can’t be what I want, and I’m accepting that. This is what you wanted. Distance.”
“It feels…wrong,” he admitted.
“Just because something feels wrong doesn’t mean it’s not right,” she said.
He combed a hand over his beard. “That’s the least Remi-like thing I’ve heard you say.”
“Maybe I’m trying to be less like myself. Maybe it would all be easier for everyone if I were someone else.”
“The world needs a Remington Honeysuckle Ford.”
“The world does, but not a lot of people do,” she pointed out.
“That sounds like bullshit to me,” Brick observed.
Fortunately, the conversation was cut short by the arrival of their food.
She dug in to her turkey breast with mashed potatoes and gravy and a side of lima beans. See Dr. Ferrin? She could be healthier. She could make the effort. She wasn’t incapable of trying. Sure, she was definitely having a bowl of Marshmallow Munchies when she got back to the cottage, but the lima beans still counted.
His phone buzzed on the table. Idly, he flipped it over, and Remi saw his expression sharpen.