“Let’s get you in the kitchen where I can get a better look.” Jesse held out his hand. “Can you tell me your full name?”
“Laura Alice White.” She put her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet.
“What day is it?”
“Friday.”
“And where were you heading on a night like tonight?”
She hesitated and didn’t look at him. “I was going to rob a bank.”
“Too bad. Dawson doesn’t have a bank.” He smiled a little and steadied her with a hand on her back.
“I was going to visit my aunt.” Laura closed her eyes as another wave of nausea hit.
“Are you sick?” He stopped walking. “Dizzy?”
“Everything aches.”
“Who is your aunt?”
“Sally White.”
“You know she’s in the nursing home, right?”
“Your grandmother told me.”
“You didn’t know?” He glanced down at her, dark hair and tired-looking dark eyes. She looked away because she had blood dripping down her face, smelly breath and a prison record. Sounded like three strikes to her.
They entered a long, narrow kitchen. The cabinets were dark cherry, and the countertops were black granite. It was warm and welcoming. He grabbed a stool shoved into a corner by the fridge and placed it in the center of the room. Myrna flipped on the overhead lights. Laura blinked to clear her vision as she adjusted to the glare.
“Why wouldn’t you know that your aunt is in the nursing home?” he asked as he looked her over, cleaning the cut on her forehead and placing a bandage on it.
Laura started to give a nonanswer but Myrna stepped forward, her lips pursed. “Jesse Alvarez Cooper, watch your manners.”
“Sorry, Gran.” His long fingers touched Laura’s chin and he tilted her face. She tried to turn away but he held her steady with his left hand and with his right he flashed a light at her eyes.
No matter what, she wouldn’t let him see her cry.
* * *
Jesse finished examining the woman sitting in his grandmother’s kitchen and then put his medical bag on the counter. He tried to pretend he hadn’t seen the glimmer of tears in her eyes. He’d never been good at ignoring a woman’s tears.
He sighed and turned to face the other problem at hand. His grandmother. The fact that she had caused this accident troubled him. There were definitely a few missing pieces to the puzzle.
“Gran, what were you doing out so late on a night that isn’t fit for dogs?”
She tossed him a “mind your own business” look. For the first time he noticed that she was wearing a pink skirt and jacket, not her typical jeans and T-shirt.
“You’re not here about me. I’m fine. What do you think about Laura? Should she go to the hospital?” She leaned in close to study Laura White, conveniently avoiding his question. “Maybe she needs a CAT scan.”
“I don’t think so, Gran.”
He switched his attention from his grandmother to the woman still sitting on the stool. She trembled and bit down on a quivering bottom lip. He didn’t think she had serious injuries; more than likely it was a virus coupled with the shock of the accident and a few bumps and bruises.
Like his grandmother, she’d been out pretty late, driving in a serious storm. He wondered why it had been so important for her to get to her aunt’s house, an aunt she obviously hadn’t seen in years.
“Should we take her to the hospital, just to make sure nothing is broken?” Granny Myrna wrapped an arm around the woman and held her close, as if she were a long-lost child.
He loved that about his grandmother. The Coopers were the most loving, accepting bunch of people in the state, as far as he was concerned. He’d spent the first years of his life in South America trying to survive before they’d brought him here to be a part of their family.
“Nothing is broken. I took her temperature and I have a feeling the nausea and body aches have more to do with a virus than the accident.”
Laura shivered and he studied her face, pale with big gray eyes. She had long auburn hair that curled down her back. Her clothes were decent but worn, and she was thin, too thin.
“I need to get my car.” She shivered again. He looked at his grandmother. She was already scurrying away, probably to get a blanket.
“Even if your car will run, where do you think you’ll go?”
“I’m not sure. Back to Tulsa, I guess.” Her voice was soft, almost sweet.
“You have a home there?”
She looked at him, gray eyes misty, and she didn’t answer.
His grandmother rushed back into the room, an afghan in her hands. She draped it around her guest’s shoulders. “She’s staying right here.”
“Gran.”
She shushed him. “Jesse, I’m a big girl and I have a duty to take care of this young woman. I could be in the morgue right now if she hadn’t run off the road to keep from hitting me.”
She might have a point, but that didn’t mean she should put herself in harm’s way, taking in a stranger. “Gran, really.”
Laura White touched his grandmother’s arm. “What your grandson is trying to say is that taking in a stranger is dangerous. Mrs. Cooper, you shouldn’t. You don’t know me from anyone.”
Jesse’s grandmother looked closely at her. “I’m knocking on the door of eighty-five and I know a good girl when I see one. You’ve had a few setbacks, but I see goodness in your eyes.”
“I’m not going to argue because I won’t win.” Jesse walked over to the sink to wash his hands.
Behind him his grandmother and Laura White were having a discussion about Laura staying. He knew how this would go. He squirted dish soap in his palm, lathered up and rinsed under the hot tap water. The towel hanging over the door of the cabinet was damp. He found a clean one in the drawer.
“Is there a hotel in Dawson?” Laura asked as he turned back around. His grandmother shot him a look.
Jesse shook his head. “Nope.”
She started to stand but wobbled, and he caught hold of her arm. He eased her back on the stool and placed his wrist on the back of her neck. Her fever had spiked. He grabbed the thermometer out of his bag and pushed the thick strands of auburn hair behind her ear to slide the thermometer in. She closed her eyes, opening them when he moved his hand and withdrew the thermometer.
He shook his head. “You need to be in bed.”
His grandmother smiled big because she knew she’d won the argument. He had to smile, too, because his granny Myrna loved a new project and he could tell she didn’t plan on letting this one slip out the door. His grandmother was dead set on fixing the person who had crashed into her life.
“Let me get the spare room ready and then you can help her upstairs.”
“Sure thing, Gran.” He watched his grandmother, still spry in her eighties, hurry out of the kitchen. He heard her singing as she headed upstairs to ready the guestroom.
“I really can go.”
“No, you’ll