couldnât accept Gloriaâs lethargic lack of interest in her own recovery as though it didnât matter. It did matter, not just because Jenna was a nurse and dedicated to doing the very best she could for any patient, but because Gloria was so very important to the Coltons. Important to Bram. How could she, Jenna, care so much for Bram and permit his grandmother to waste away before their very eyes?
Realizing that she had just admitted how much Bram meant to her caused tears to gather in Jennaâs eyes and her heartbeat to quicken. Only minutes ago she had decided to hate him forever, and in little more than the blink of an eye she cared for him? What in heavenâs name was wrong with her? Bram had used herâwith her own damn helpâand she cared for him?
If she had half a brain she would phone Dr. Hall and ask him to find another nurse to care for Gloria. Biting her lip to keep from crying again, Jenna continued to massage her patientâs arms and legs. She felt as helpless as Gloria truly was, Jenna thought sadly. She wasnât physically disabled like Gloria, but emotionally she didnât have the strength of a gnat. Not where Bram was concerned. Was she doomed to suffer indignities of this nature ad infinitum because her father and Bram were at opposite ends of a tiresome, pointless spectrum?
Jenna could tell that her hands were trembling, thoughshe managed to keep them functioning and doing their job. She felt shaky internally, as well. This thing with Bram was far more serious than anything she could have imagined before the episode in his bedroom. If an acceptable replacement nurse magically materialized this very minute and she could leave this house forever, she would still shiver and quake every time she thought of Bram Colton.
Sighing hopelessly, Jenna got up from her perch on the edge of Gloriaâs bed and went into the bathroom to wash her hands.
It hurt terribly to recognize and admit her own weaknesses, which when added up really constituted only one catastrophic flaw: feelings for a man who would use her sexually but never even consider anything more between them. Even with that hanging over her head, though, Jenna knew she would not be phoning Dr. Hall about a replacement nurse anytime soon.
One thing was certain, however. If some course of action occurred to her that would make Bram suffer even a fraction of her torment, she would carry it out in a New York minute.
He didnât care how badly he hurt her, did he? Well, he just might find out that her once soft heart had hardened to pure granite.
In the meantime she was going to do her utmost to incite and stir Gloriaâs desire to live. It really was the only thing that would halt or at least slow her downhill slide.
Â
Bram turned onto the familiar dirt road leading to Georgeâs place, feeling anxious to get started on his search for the old man. Bram had confidence in his tracking ability, which, in this case, was amplified by the fact that George had taken his three rowdy dogs on his own search for his guardian spirit. Those mutts would leave all sortsof signs for a tracker, and since George had no reason for stealth in his hike, he, too, would leave signs.
So Bramâs scope of confidence also included finding his great-grandfather rather quickly. His main concern was that the old guy might have taken a fall. George WhiteBearâs tall, lean, straight body and barely lined faceânot unusual in older Native Americansâgave strangers a false impression. He looked much younger than he was, and it was often hard for Bram to believe George had lived for almost a century.
But the truth was that George WhiteBear was elderly, and a hell of a lot more fragile than heâd been during Bramâs adoring childhood years. A hard fall could easily break brittle bones, and he could be lying out there suffering. Bram prayed that wasnât the case, but it was a possibility he couldnât erase
Realizing that she had just admitted how much Bram meant to her caused tears to gather in Jennaâs eyes and her heartbeat to quicken. Only minutes ago she had decided to hate him forever, and in little more than the blink of an eye she cared for him? What in heavenâs name was wrong with her? Bram had used herâwith her own damn helpâand she cared for him?
If she had half a brain she would phone Dr. Hall and ask him to find another nurse to care for Gloria. Biting her lip to keep from crying again, Jenna continued to massage her patientâs arms and legs. She felt as helpless as Gloria truly was, Jenna thought sadly. She wasnât physically disabled like Gloria, but emotionally she didnât have the strength of a gnat. Not where Bram was concerned. Was she doomed to suffer indignities of this nature ad infinitum because her father and Bram were at opposite ends of a tiresome, pointless spectrum?
Jenna could tell that her hands were trembling, thoughshe managed to keep them functioning and doing their job. She felt shaky internally, as well. This thing with Bram was far more serious than anything she could have imagined before the episode in his bedroom. If an acceptable replacement nurse magically materialized this very minute and she could leave this house forever, she would still shiver and quake every time she thought of Bram Colton.
Sighing hopelessly, Jenna got up from her perch on the edge of Gloriaâs bed and went into the bathroom to wash her hands.
It hurt terribly to recognize and admit her own weaknesses, which when added up really constituted only one catastrophic flaw: feelings for a man who would use her sexually but never even consider anything more between them. Even with that hanging over her head, though, Jenna knew she would not be phoning Dr. Hall about a replacement nurse anytime soon.
One thing was certain, however. If some course of action occurred to her that would make Bram suffer even a fraction of her torment, she would carry it out in a New York minute.
He didnât care how badly he hurt her, did he? Well, he just might find out that her once soft heart had hardened to pure granite.
In the meantime she was going to do her utmost to incite and stir Gloriaâs desire to live. It really was the only thing that would halt or at least slow her downhill slide.
Â
Bram turned onto the familiar dirt road leading to Georgeâs place, feeling anxious to get started on his search for the old man. Bram had confidence in his tracking ability, which, in this case, was amplified by the fact that George had taken his three rowdy dogs on his own search for his guardian spirit. Those mutts would leave all sortsof signs for a tracker, and since George had no reason for stealth in his hike, he, too, would leave signs.
So Bramâs scope of confidence also included finding his great-grandfather rather quickly. His main concern was that the old guy might have taken a fall. George WhiteBearâs tall, lean, straight body and barely lined faceânot unusual in older Native Americansâgave strangers a false impression. He looked much younger than he was, and it was often hard for Bram to believe George had lived for almost a century.
But the truth was that George WhiteBear was elderly, and a hell of a lot more fragile than heâd been during Bramâs adoring childhood years. A hard fall could easily break brittle bones, and he could be lying out there suffering. Bram prayed that wasnât the case, but it was a possibility he couldnât erase
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