“You had more than that when I lived here.”
He removed the one on his head to reveal shiny black hair, cut above his ears. Shorter than Preston’s.
And why was she comparing the two men, all of a sudden? “I also wanted to ask you about the beautiful works of art.” She gestured toward two wood carvings on the coffee table. One was a life-size head of a bighorn sheep; the other was a startlingly beautiful replica of the famed Rainbow Bridge stone arch on Lake Powell.
“The initials on the bottoms of these are CY. ” She picked up the carving of Rainbow Bridge. “Anyone you know?”
“Sounds familiar,” he said.
She sighed. Canaan York had always been willing to shoulder responsibility when anything went wrong, and always reluctant to take credit—like for the beautiful results of his creativity.
“So you followed in your mother’s sculpturing footsteps,” she said. “Is she still creating her fascinating works?”
He nodded, obviously proud of his mother. “Her name is known in some circles all across the country.”
“I think these are just as beautiful. I’m honored you used them to decorate my apartment.”
She replaced the carving on the coffee table, aware of Canaan’s flush of pleasure and his effort to suppress it.
“Thanks. Are you hungry?”
“Not too much.” Sheila glanced at her watch. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m really not up to this right now. Why don’t you—”
“You need to eat.” His deep voice suddenly became firm. “Besides, you should start meeting some of the staff. You don’t want them to think that you think you’re too good to eat with them, do you?”
Sheila grimaced. Her head ached. But she did need to start meeting the staff, and she didn’t want to do it all alone.
“You aren’t my boss until I start work,” she said. “But I guess I can force myself to eat.”
Canaan gave her a smile, erasing the serious expression that seemed to be permanently attached to the adult Canaan York. “Hope you still like mutton stew.”
Sheila made a face, and Canaan chuckled.
“It’s a special treat for the others. They’re also serving chicken fried steak for those with biligaana tastes.”
“Good.”
“By the way, Betsy Two Horses is still in the cafeteria. She’s head cook now. She and your mother were once pretty good friends, weren’t they?”
“Yes, they were.” It would be good to see Betsy again. Not that she and Sheila would have time to talk with a dinner crowd around, but just to see her again…Sheila reached up and fingered the turquoise-and-gold cross at her throat.
Seeing Betsy would bring so many of her memories crashing back. But the time had come to face them—and there was no turning back now.
Chapter Eight
C anaan sat on the sleeper sofa in Sheila’s small apartment, listening to the splash of water in the bathroom as Sheila got ready to go to dinner. She obviously was reluctant to join him for tonight’s meal. He wasn’t exactly ecstatic about it, either. He would have enjoyed sharing a meal with her without the prying eyes of the whole student body and faculty on them. How he would love to sit down with her and catch up on the past years.
Sheila joined him, and they stepped out into the darkening, cooler air of evening.
“I had forgotten how suddenly night falls here,” she said. “In Missouri, the sunset hangs on forever.”
“I remember,” he said.
She looked up at him. “You were in Missouri?”
“When I had rotations, I drove through a couple of times. I discovered that, in the Ozarks, the sun seems to spread out into the heavier, moister atmosphere there, and then, just before it starts its plunge past the horizon, it lingers in the line of forest.”
“Sounds as if you enjoyed it.”
“I did.”
“I wish you’d tried to contact Dad or me on your way through. We could have put you up for the night.”
“It just never seemed to be the right time.” Especially since she had been married then. Canaan doubted her husband would have understood an old male friend simply stopping by to spend the night.
He couldn’t help noticing as they walked that Sheila was studying every line of every building, every plant. It must be disconcerting to find a once-familiar home changed so completely.
All of the old school buildings were gone, and it seemed to take her a few moments to realize that the cafeteria, just ahead and to their right, was set in exactly the same position as the old one.
“The new cafeteria’s prettier,” Canaan said, and was rewarded by a fleeting look of surprise. Amazing he could still, at times, read her mind.
Piñon and olive trees, thriving in this climate, surrounded the cafeteria. Canaan had considered planting cactus, as well, but he couldn’t risk harm to children playing in the area.
“It seems as if some calm, gentle spirit has encompassed the school,” Sheila said.
He warmed at her words of praise. “Thank you.”
“Don’t tell me you did the landscaping,” she said.
He nodded. “Doc said I needed a deeper tan.”
“That sounds like something he would say.” Warm affection filled her words. Sheila had once been one of Doc Cottonwood’s favorite young students; when he had taken her under his wing, it had helped establish her as just another student, and not a biligaana. Her friendship, in turn, had encouraged Canaan to face up to the bullies who’d picked on him.
“I enjoyed the gardening,” Canaan said.
“More than you enjoy medicine?” she asked.
“No, but I like it more than being principal. Besides, the physical activity did me good.”
She glanced up at him, and he thought he caught a brief gleam of approval as her gaze rested on the breadth of his shoulders, and again he relished that approval. Having been the smallest in his class, he had despaired as a child of ever growing. His growth spurt had hit in his senior year of high school. Perhaps it was this feeling of isolation for so long in his childhood that had kept him hitting the books when other classmates were more active in sports.
“Once the trees have matured,” Sheila said, “this whole place will look like an oasis from the road.”
“That’s the plan.” He hesitated. Though it would be great to bask in her kind words—particularly after the uncomfortable circumstances accompanying her arrival—he couldn’t linger there. “Were you looking for an oasis when you decided to come here?”
“Nope.” Clipped. Almost sharp, and the tone relayed Back off clearly enough for most people.
“So why did you come?” He wasn’t most people.
“Because I’m between permanent jobs at the moment. And no, I wasn’t fired from my previous position. The hospital where I worked lost federal funding and had to cut back on staffing.”
“A loss of federal funding would shut down most hospitals.”
“It probably will this one, as well, eventually, but it’s still limping along right now.”
“What was the infraction?”
“One