Duncan pulled her against his side, offering her some comfort as the fire in the kiva fireplace snapped and crackled, offering its warmth to her as well. He pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Science may equally disprove what you think you know, too.”
“I don’t know if I want to know. It’s like I can feel it coming on, what more proof do I need?”
“What you may be feeling is the stress of unrelenting anxiety from years of worry.” Squeezing her shoulder, he leaned back into the settee, pulled her closer, tucked her head beneath his chin. “Tell me about it. Tell me the story that’s locking you up inside.”
A few minutes passed before she took a deep breath. “My dad died when I was eleven, and he was forty-five. We had no idea what had happened to him, but a few years later when my oldest brother got sick and showed the same symptoms we had a clue it was the same thing.” She cuddled against him and allowed her body to relax. One hand drifted over his abdomen, almost shyly, as if she hesitated to hold on to him. He placed his hand over hers and held it against him.
“Then what happened?”
“My grandparents finally told us that dad was adopted and they had no idea what his family history was. But when Ben became symptomatic, we started digging. Mom got all of the boys tested as they were the ones showing symptoms. I didn’t have any symptoms yet, so she decided to wait for me.” She paused as a tear ran down her cheek. Duncan caught it with the back of his fingers and wiped it away. “Seemed like every couple of years all we did was plan funerals. All of them were dead by the time they were twenty-five.” She huffed out an irritated breath. “I have three nephews and so far they are doing okay.” She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “They might be okay, then, right?”
“I’m so very sorry, Rebel. That’s a lot of pain to go through.” He could only give the odds science had already established. The guilt she felt for surviving such tragedy now explained everything. Why she ran from one assignment to the next and why she was so reluctant to make friends.
“I know.” She nodded. “It’s awful. But it was part of the reason I became a nurse. I couldn’t help my family, but I wanted to do something to help someone else’s.”
“No matter the reason you entered healthcare, you’re an excellent nurse.” He paused for a second. “But you are entitled to have a life of your own, no matter what your family history is.”
“How can I even think of having a relationship or a family with such history?” Anger blazed in her eyes at the suggestion, but it was part of the process of letting go.
“By living your life you honor your family, and you don’t let a disease, something you have no control over, live your life for you. That’s how.” Anger surfaced again, and he struggled to choke it down. Wasting a life was unconscionable. His fiancée had wasted her life, died after a stupid argument, and he wasn’t going to let Rebel just as surely destroy herself.
“That’s a very different way of looking at it.” She turned away and reached for her mug on the table in front of her, clearly not comfortable with that way of thinking.
“I’m challenging your thinking, Rebel, not your commitment, or loyalty, to your family.” He pushed her hair back from her shoulder.
“You haven’t mentioned your mother at all. Where is she in all of this?” Mothers were a driving force in the lives of children. His had gone from his life entirely too soon.
“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken in a while.” She shrugged and looked away. “It’s hard for me to be around her. I think, whenever I’m with her, I remind her too much of everything she’s lost.”
“She may be sad over her loss, but I think she would be overjoyed at being with you.”
“She’s married again. She’s moved on.” She made a face. “I don’t think she really needs me.”
“Look at me, please?” Her pain was almost tangible, and he wanted to ease it, but he didn’t think he could right at the moment.
It took a few seconds, but she turned her face toward him. The anger still blazed inside him, but it was tempered by compassion. “The question really is, do you want a relationship and a family? If you don’t, then it’s simple, you carry on the way you are. But if you do, then you have to make a change.”
“I did want a family. I grew up loved, and I wanted that for my own children. But when my brothers died, I knew I couldn’t face such pain ever again or bring it to anyone else.” She sighed. “I’ve already tried to have myself sterilized, but no doctor would do it because of my age.”
“You don’t want children?” That would be a crime.
“I would. I did. I do.” She shook her head and her hair caught the firelight. “I gave up thinking about it. It’s not like there have been many men lining up, wanting to father my children. All I could do was have the birth control implant placed in case of accidental pregnancy. It lasts for three years. It’s a pain, but it works.”
“We all have pain. It’s just different for everyone.” Thoughts of the night his fiancée had died surfaced again, but he pushed them away. It was the past and should remain there, though it hadn’t stayed there, ever. She hadn’t wanted children and it would have ended their relationship had she not died that night.
“You have an incredible family with a history like something out of a story book.” She gestured around the patio, encompassing everything.
“True. But it wasn’t perfect.” He had to concede that. “You don’t know about how many of them were killed or died on the trip to the United States, how many of them died from starvation and disease until the ranch got established, how many died in raids or in gunfights with early settlers, Indians and bandits from Old Mexico.”
She smiled. “I can just see Rafael hanging out with Pancho Villa if he’d been around then.”
Duncan snorted out a laugh, admiring her spirit once again. “Actually, we have a photo of my great-grandfather with Pancho Villa.”
“No way!” Astonishment showed in her eyes.
“Way.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “My ancestors not only fought disease but Mexican revolutionaries, as well as Mother Nature. It’s not the same thing, but every family has their trials, their grief. My mother and a sister have both died from breast cancer.” He sighed, not letting the pain of their loss intrude on this conversation. “It’s what you do with the pain, how you learn from it, that counts.” He paused for a second. “And growth hurts. It’s uncomfortable, but it challenges you in places you’d never thought about, but in the end it’s worth it.” Like he’d been challenged so many times in his life.
“Wow. I’m so sorry about your losses. I’ll have to think about that.” She dropped her gaze to her mug again and remained lost in thought for a long time. “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, it has. Tomorrow will be crazy, because the family is going to come to check on him.”
“They don’t just call?”
“You’ve obviously not been involved with a large Hispanic family before.” Call? They descended en masse from all corners of the state when there was a family crisis.
“Um, no. No, I haven’t.”
“Just wait. You’ll see.”
Sipping again from her mug, she realized she’d just about consumed the whole thing, but clutched the mug like it was some sort of protective chalice.
He caught her gaze. She was frightened, yet curious. Very intriguing mix this Rebel was. And she had his complete attention.
When she lowered her mug, he placed his left arm around