Good Medicine. Bobby Hutchinson
“Dig in,” Rose Marie ordered, taking her place beside Christina.
Jordan, suddenly ravenous, did as she was told. Her first bite confirmed that Rose Marie was an exceptional cook who knew her way around a seafood stew.
“This is sooo good,” she sighed.
Just as Jordan was sampling the crusty bread—irresistibly still warm—the deck door slid open and a short, very old woman with long black braids came in. Almost as wide as she was tall, she moved with an assured dignity and grace that belied her years.
Christina got up and gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Hey, Grandmother Alice, this is Jordan Burke, the new doctor. Jordan, this is Alice Sam.”
“How do you do.” Alice set down the plastic bag she was carrying and came over to take Jordan’s hand. Her gaze seemed to penetrate beneath the skin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jordan Burke.”
“And you, Mrs. Sam.”
“Grandmother, everyone calls me Grandmother.”
“Sit,” Rose Marie ordered. “I’ll get you some stew. Help yourself to salad and bread.”
While Elvis sang “Amazing Grace,” they ate the food, simple and delicious.
After a long silence, the women began to discuss the weather and the garden and someone’s new baby. Jordan didn’t feel excluded, but rather, relived they didn’t make her the focus of the gathering.
She sensed they were giving her a chance to get to know them, to feel at home with them—and to recover from whatever had made her eyes red and bloodshot.
She felt relaxed and peaceful, sitting in the bright kitchen with these kind and tactful women.
“I made Nanaimo bars,” Rose Marie said when everyone was finished eating. “You drink coffee, Doctor? Or I can make tea, herbal or regular, whatever you want.”
“Coffee’s fine.” A jolt of caffeine would help get her through the afternoon.
The Nanaimo bars were decadent—layers of sweet custard, coconut and smooth dark chocolate. Between the sugar and caffeine, Jordan was soon wide-awake again.
“I read that now they think chocolate is actually good for you,” Christina said. “What’s your professional opinion, Jordan? You can lie—we’ll all be grateful.”
They all turned to look at her.
“Women have always known chocolate’s good for them,” she said, munching a second slice. “We didn’t need scientists to prove it.”
The others smiled and nodded, and then fell silent. Waiting politely for her to tell them something about herself. But she couldn’t. She’d learned to talk to Helen, but she still couldn’t let others into her private space. “You’re an amazing cook, Rose Marie,” she said. “I’ll have to learn to cook, too. I’ve gotten way too used to eating out and ordering in.”
“Here, we don’t have much choice,” Alice said. “And most of us don’t have the money, even if there was somewhere to go besides Mabel’s.”
“Working in Emerg, you probably came home too tired to do much cooking,” Christina said in her defense. “You’re gonna find life a lot slower here.”
“I’m looking forward to that.”
“You got family on the mainland?” Alice asked.
“No.” Jordan hesitated. “An ex-husband.” The ex part was stretching the truth somewhat. “No kids,” she added with a sense of regret. “I have one brother, but he’s in Seattle. I don’t see him very often.”
“Your folks passed on?” Alice obviously believed family was very important.
It would be rude to avoid a direct answer. “My mother died when I was four,” Jordan managed to say. “My father figured he couldn’t take care of us on his own so he put my brother and me into foster care. He’s still alive, but I don’t have any contact with him.”
“Too bad,” Alice said shaking her head. “We all need family.”
The women nodded.
“We have a saying,” Grandmother Alice said, murmuring in her own language. “It means we are all related.”
“Most of us, my generation anyways, we got separated from our folks, too,” Rose Marie said. “They took the kids from the reserves and put us either with foster families in the city or in residential schools.”
“I’ve read about that,” Jordan said. “That had to be one of the most destructive things politicians ever did.”
“Yeah.” All three women agreed, but without any show of emotion.
“It was bad, getting taken away,” Alice said, matter-of-fact. “And then it was real hard, comin’ back.”
“Culture shock comin’ and goin’,” Rose Marie agreed, and they all laughed.
“But now we got our own school, our kids stay here in Ahousaht.”
Jordan recognized the pride in her tone. “When I saw the school the first time I came here, I was impressed. It’s beautiful.”
Rose Marie nodded. “And we got some really good teachers.”
“Did any of them grow up here?”
“Three.” Alice poured Jordan another cup of coffee. “There’s two from Away, but they’ve been here two years now. Looks like they might just stay.”
“Is that a problem?” Jordan asked. “Teachers leaving?”
“Oh, yeah, big-time,” Christina said. “Last year we had some leave before September was even over. That young couple who came from the Interior—”
She was interrupted by a man in rough work clothes and rubber boots who opened the sliding door wide and stepped inside.
Rose Marie got up fast. “Peter, what’s happened?”
“Louie’s cut his leg damned near off with the power saw,” he said, breathing hard. “I knew the new doc was comin’ here for lunch—we called for the ambulance but it’s got a flat tire.”
“This is my husband, Peter Crow,” Rose Marie said.
“We’d better hurry, Peter.” Jordan got up quickly, adrenaline pumping. “I’ll have to get my medical bag from the apartment.”
“You go with Dad,” Christina said. “Give me your key, I’ll bring your bag.” She turned to her father. “Where’s Louie?”
“Down by the old wharf, he’s bleedin’ pretty bad, but Silas is there. He’ll get it stopped. C’mon, Doc.”
Jordan had to run to keep up with him. He’d left a battered green half ton running, and she climbed into the passenger seat, barely getting the door shut before Peter stepped hard on the accelerator.
A medical emergency. For the first time all day, Jordan felt confident that she was doing exactly what she was meant to do.
CHAPTER SIX
HER PATIENT WAS LYING FLAT on an old dock in a pool of coagulating blood. His right thigh, halfway between knee and groin, had been torn open in a crosswise cut. Someone had been smart enough to elevate the wound and apply a pressure bandage.
Jordan knelt and looked into the man’s eyes, at the same time taking his wrist, gauging his pulse.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Burke. Can you tell me your name?” She knew it, but needed to ascertain his level of shock.
“Louie Adams.” His voice was thin and reedy, but he was conscious and responding. Rapid pulse, dilated pupils. Shock, but not bad. Considering.