ANOTHER SLEEPLESS NIGHT morphed painfully into Sunday morning, and Tag decided to make himself useful again, this time by fixing breakfast with ingredients he found in Abe’s kitchen. Not surprisingly, both the refrigerator and the freezer were well supplied. Stocking up was something most Alaskans were good at, and soon he had bacon sizzling in a skillet while he whisked the eggs for a scramble.
Abe came into the kitchen, looking bright eyed in jeans and a flannel shirt. “Mornin’. Smells delicious.” Stepping over to the coffee maker, he filled a mug.
“Good morning. I hope it’s okay I’m making myself at home here?”
“Cooking a breakfast like this, you can move on in. It’s usually oatmeal around here, I’m afraid.”
“How’s Zeke?” Tag filled the toaster with whole wheat bread, then poured the eggs into the pan and stirred.
“Doing remarkably well.” Abe pulled out a chair and sat. “The healing power of young people never ceases to amaze me. If only I could bottle it.”
“You could save the world.” Taking a slice of bread from the toaster, Tag slathered on a pat of butter.
“Don’t be shy with the butter there, cowboy. Nah, I’m not interested in saving the world. It’s impossible to stop the cycle, you know? My goal is to heal, to ease suffering and make it more pleasant to live in this world. We can all only do as much as we are able. The trick, once you get that helping fever into your blood, is knowing where to draw the line, how much to do, when to stop before draining your own well dry.”
Tag paused, then added another swipe of butter to the toast. A stab of longing sliced through him as he was reminded of the time Ally had called him cowboy. He didn’t feel like that carefree, risk-taking cowboy lately. He felt more like the toast he was buttering.
After spooning eggs onto a platter, he set all the food on the table and sat down across from Abe. “Ally told me you’re a philosopher.”
Abe filled his plate and took a bite of eggs. Nodding appreciatively, he said, “Mmm. Delicious. I appreciate a man who knows how not to overcook eggs. It’s an art form. Can’t let those protein bonds get too hot. I may be something of an amateur philosopher, but I’m a grandfather first, a parent. That line I was referring to earlier? For me, it’s Ally.”
Tag’s bite of eggs turned rubbery. Nervously, he settled in for a conversation that could go many different directions. What had Ally told her grandfather?
Tag gave a casual shrug of one shoulder. “Lucky for me, I have the luxury of not really having a line—not yet, anyway. Meaning I don’t have a family of my own, like a wife or kids.”
Abe chewed slowly, his brown eyes like hot lasers sighted on Tag’s. He swallowed and then took a sip of coffee. In a flat tone nearly identical to Ally’s, he said, “Lucky for you, huh?”
Tag realized how much that made him sound like a player, afraid of commitment. “Well, no, not really. Honestly, I wish I had a line.” I wish I had Ally.
“Hypothetically, if you did have a line, would you be able to not cross it, protect it, cherish it?”
Tag set his fork down and leaned back in his chair. “Okay, Dr. Mowak, I know we don’t know each other very well, or at all, really. But I feel like I know you a little through Ally, and I definitely know how much you mean to her. So, maybe you should just tell me what you’re trying to say here?”
“I’m not trying to say anything. What I am saying is that I don’t appreciate you playing fast and loose with my granddaughter’s heart. Despite the way she acts, she feels very deeply. If a person could be accused of having too much compassion, loving too deeply, that would be my Ally. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for someone she loves. Probably there’s nothing she wouldn’t do to protect someone she cares about, either, for that matter.”
“Sir, I promise you, it’s not like that.”
“Not like what?” Abe scooped up another bite of eggs, casual as you please. Tag knew he was anything but. There was so much of this man in Ally.
“I think I know what you’re saying. But, uh, I’m the one who is in over my head here.”
Abe leaned back a little in his chair, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. With a sad shake of his head, he said, “You know, I’m surprised.” Before Tag could respond, he went on, “When Ally told me about you, she said you were smart. I was glad for that. Can’t abide the notion of her settling for someone who isn’t as intelligent as she is.” Squinting slightly, like he was thinking it over, he added, “Eh, I suppose the fact that you’re a paramedic and a pilot and a successful businessman confirms your intelligence on one level. The lowest, most basic one.”
A mix of amusement and irritation stirred inside Tag, but he held steady. Keeping his feelings to himself, and at bay, was exhausting. He wondered how these two did it all the time.
“Thanks for that, then, I guess.”
“You know how old she is, right? And you’re, like, what, late thirties?”
Why did everyone keep going for this weak spot? “Yes. But believe me, our age difference was a cause of great concern to me before we ever started dating. Not to Ally, but for me. And I am careful not to forget—”
Brushing a hand through the air to cut him off, Abe said, “It’s not that. It’s not the difference in your ages that I’m talking about here. I don’t care about that. I care about Ally being happy. Right now, she’s not happy. I think you’re to blame.”
“Maybe. But not like I think you’re thinking. We had a difference of opinion over her...medical beliefs, and then... I don’t know if Ally told you, but I’m running for state senate and...” How did he explain how complicated his life was?
Abe was shaking his head again. “I don’t care what you two were disagreeing over. It’s no secret that Ally shares my views on medicine. She’s used to people questioning that. Differences in opinion can almost always be worked out if you love each other enough. The problem, as I see it, has to do with priorities and honesty, on both sides. Too many of the former are misplaced, however well-meaning, and there’s not enough of the latter.”
“I’ve been honest with her from the start,” Tag said, and then immediately realized that wasn’t true on at least one level. Maybe more, if he counted Kendall. What purpose would it serve to tell her how he felt? Other than breaking his own heart, which already felt battered about with more raw edges than he would have thought possible? As for the priorities, that part was true. But what choice did he have? Running for political office was all about priorities, about putting others’ needs ahead of his own. Except where this thing with Kendall was concerned—that he was going to do something about, regardless of what happened with Ally.
“And Ally has been honest with me, too. I know she’s not looking for a serious relationship.”
More head shaking from Abe left Tag feeling like a wayward teen who’d disappointed his father. “Son, you are sorely lacking when it comes to your knowledge of romantic relationships, aren’t you? I’m beginning to think you and Ally are on about the same level when it comes to that kind of experience.”
“Well, I can’t argue that.”
“Can’t argue what?” Ally asked in a husky morning voice as she strolled into the kitchen in her baggy flannel pajama bottoms, soft pink T-shirt and leather slippers. She’d secured her sleep-mussed hair away from her face, and a sharp pang of longing shot straight through his bloodstream. A lifetime of Sunday morning images flitted through his brain: him and Ally, kids, cats, coffee and the newspaper, cuddling in front of the fireplace in his house. He needed to...do something. He had to get out of here and away from her before he said something, did something he couldn’t take back.
“Argue about bacon,” Abe supplied.
Ally spun around from where she was filling a cup with coffee. Lips curving at the corners, she said drily, “Sounds like I’ve been missing out on some profound and insightful breakfast conversation.” Pulling out a chair, she joined them at the table and snagged a piece of bacon from the platter.
Abe’s tone was wry, while his gaze was anything but as he pinned it on Tag. “You could say that.”
* * *
ALLY WAS RELIEVED when Max called later that morning to tell Tag he’d found the part for his plane. The weather had cleared and this meant Tag would be leaving soon. She’d already decided not to fly back with him because, without the distraction of an emergency between them, they’d be forced to talk. She didn’t want to talk. She wasn’t sure she could have any more conversations about Shay or the campaign—and certainly not about Kendall—and keep her emotions in check.
Then there was the fact that she didn’t want to confess that he’d likely been right about her medical discussions getting her fired. She’d been in touch with Flynn, and he’d heard that it wasn’t looking good for her.
Tag found her in the living room, where she’d been pretending to read. “Max said his cousin is going to be in the area and can swing by and pick us up. Can you be ready in about thirty minutes?”
“I’m not going with you. My grandpa is flying Zeke to Rankins tomorrow. I’m going to wait and go with him.”
“Your grandfather is coming to Rankins?”
“Yep. He, um, he wants to consult with Doc about Zeke. And he has some business to take care of.”
“So, you’re not coming back with me?”
He phrased the question like he was having a difficult time accepting it. Ally tried not to read too much into it. “No, I already told Flynn. He’s going to handle any emergencies.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows what to do,” she said, purposely misunderstanding the question. “He used to do the job before I was hired.”
“No, I mean why aren’t you coming with me? I was hoping...” His look told her he knew exactly what she was up to. “Ally, I think we need to talk. I have to leave for Juneau tomorrow, and I won’t be back until Wednesday at the earliest.”
A rush of relief went through her. If he was leaving tomorrow, there was less chance he’d find out about the hearing. But that also meant it was that much sooner he’d be with Kendall and she’d find out Ally was lying about herself and Tag.
But it didn’t matter now, anyway; she and Tag were over. She needed to make that clear, lest she hold on to some pointless hope. She tried to inhale a fortifying breath but her lungs felt caustic and tight, like they were full of campfire smoke.
Her voice was a little low and throaty but she managed a level “No, Tag, it’s fine. There’s nothing more to talk about. You need to focus on the campaign, and I need to focus on...my job.” Or job hunting, more likely.
“Is Dave coming with you to Rankins?”
“What? Dave? No, he’s going to cover for my grandpa.”
“Mmm. Do you...? Are you guys...? Are you interested in him?”
Ally stared. Was he serious with this? How dare he ask her about Dave after the mauling Kendall gave him on that stage? Enough was enough.
The words bubbled up and burst from her like a volcanic episode. “Are you out of your mind? How could you think that when I’m so clearly—” in love with you. She’d almost blurted it out. A sheen of nervous sweat prickled her back. She needed him to get out of here.
“You’re what?” he asked, his voice tight and fraught. Tension radiated from his body. “It would be nice to hear you say how you feel, for a change.”
Ally froze and then struggled to keep her tone level. “You want to hear how I feel?” Those stampeding words pounded against the back of her throat, clamoring for release. But what difference would it make? There could be no future here. And that’s what she wanted: a relationship, a future, a family. If they couldn’t have that, what was the point in telling him how she felt? She didn’t want to be second on his list. She didn’t even think she’d make second place. Probably she was down there around fourth or fifth after the campaign, his family, Kendall, his business... Better to end this, once and for all.
“Ally, tell me how you feel.”
Corralling the caribou, she said, “Fine. I feel...fine.”
“Hey, uh, Tag?” Dave’s voice sounded from down the hall. “Max’s cousin Brent is here to pick you up.”
“Thanks, Dave,” Tag called out. “I’ll be right there.”
Ally stayed silent.
“That’s it?” He stepped toward her. “You’re sticking with fine? That’s how you want to leave this? Us?”
“Yes.” A burning sensation erupted inside her rib cage. Excruciating, like her heart was tinder and had been blasted with a blowtorch.
“Can I see you on Wednesday when I get back?”
She managed a casual “I don’t see the point.”
“I see.”
She flinched when he reached out like he was going to touch her cheek. Lowering his hand, he whispered, “Goodbye, Ally.”
A sob welled up so quickly she let out a little gasp. She barely managed to swallow it. Like some sort of evil sinkhole, a giant gaping wound formed right in the middle of her soul, taking with it every bit of the joy he’d brought into her life. And more, because now she knew what she was missing. Tears burned behind her eyes and she was afraid to blink for fear they’d come pouring out. All she could manage was a nod before he turned and walked away.
* * *
“YOU LOOK LIKE...death warmed over. And then cooled off and warmed again. Are you sick?”
Monday morning, Tag stood in the kitchen of his house scowling at his sister. Upon returning home the evening before, he’d called Kendall, shut his phone off and then tried to sleep. He’d wound up watching infomercials all night. He may or may not now be the proud owner of something called a Quickie Crepe Machine, only $39.99 with shipping and handling. He’d only just dozed off when he heard Iris calling his name. When he hadn’t shown up at the office this morning or answered his phone, she’d come over to check on him.
“No.” Yes, heartsick. No, it was so much worse than that. Brokenhearted? Crushed-hearted? Was that a thing? He gave up. There were no words to describe the acid-like despair pumping through his veins, shredding him from the inside out with every beat of his aching heart.
“I’m not...sleeping. I haven’t slept much in the last few nights.” An understatement. Truthfully, he was beginning to fear for his health. He’d realized not long after taking off the previous afternoon that he shouldn’t have flown back yesterday, wouldn’t have if he’d had passengers.
“You know what? I’m glad. You deserve it.”
“What?” He choked on a sip of the coffee she’d made and then poured for him.
“You deserve to be miserable after what you did to Ally.”
“What I did?” he asked with a wheeze. “What... You know, you used to be my sweet little sister? And to think I wanted you to come home. I actually missed you. I flew my plane all the way to Anchorage to pick you up.”
“Hmmph. What were you thinking, hiring that witch to be your campaign manager?”
“I didn’t hire her. Maura did.”
“Oh, come on. You could have stopped it.”
He supposed that was true. Instead of telling Maura no and directing her to remove Kendall from the short list, he’d told her he’d prefer someone else. Prefer did not mean the same thing in political speak as it did regular speak, a fact he was fast becoming all too familiar with.
“It doesn’t matter. I have to get ready to go.”
“What do you mean? You’re not still going to Juneau?” She shifted her stance, hands fisted on her hips, fire shooting from her eyes.
“What is the matter with you? You know I have those meetings.”
“But you’ll miss the hearing.”
“What hearing?”
The sound of his front door crashing open and then slamming drew their attention.
“You’re here?” Hannah said, rushing into the room. “Oh, I’m so glad.”
“Where have you been?” Shay demanded, hot on Hannah’s heels.
“Yep, here. And here. Same answer to both questions. Accosted now by several of my siblings.”
“What is the matter with you? Are you sick?” Hannah marched over and put a hand on his forehead.
“Sort of.”
“What is it?” Shay scuttled backward a few steps. “Does he have a fever?”
Pointing a finger at Shay, he said, “Ha. You look like a scared crab.”
“Is he delirious?” Hannah asked Iris.
“No, well, maybe. Apparently, he hasn’t slept much in the last few nights.”
Shay blew out a breath of relief and moved forward again. “Oh, that’s good. Sign of a guilty conscience.”
He scowled. “Why would I have a guilty conscience?”
“Um, Ally, Kendall? Does stringing those two names together ring a bell?”
“Hey!” he cried, bunching his fist into his shirt over his heart. “Ally is the one who broke my heart. Broken, ha. No, I’m pretty sure my heart is dying, a slow and excruciatingly painful death if you must know. I hurt...all over.”
“Tag,” Iris demanded, “what are you talking about? You slayed her and left her writhing in the middle of the park thanks to that display on Friday with Kendall. Flynn told me that you then flew Ally to Killebrew, where you guys spent the weekend barely speaking. You never even explained yourself to her!”
“I tried. She didn’t want to hear it. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”
“Of course it matters! You need to explain, apologize, whatever. You need to make this right.”
Throwing up his hands, he cried, “It doesn’t matter because it’s over! And besides, Ally isn’t jealous of Kendall.”
“Have you turned stupid...er? Ally is crazy about you.”
“Trust me, if I had an inkling that she loved me even a fraction as much as I love her, I would try, Iris. I would.”
“You’re in love?” Hannah asked, her voice a mix of joy and wonder.
“This is great news!” Shay cried.
Iris scowled at him, and Tag could see the wheels spinning in her mind. But she didn’t look surprised. Undoubtedly she’d known his feelings before he did.
Peering at him closely, she asked, “Did Ally happen to mention to you the conversation she had with Kendall after the rally?”
“Ally didn’t talk to Kendall.”
“Oh, yes, she did. I was there. I heard the whole thing.”
“What—what did she say?”
“Among other brave, bold and beautifully worded comments that put that awful woman in her place, she told Kendall that she promised you that she’d never make you travel to Juneau without her again, that you’d made her promise never to leave your side.”
Hope sprouted inside him. Was this possible? If what Iris was saying was true, it could mean Ally cared more than he thought. It could mean... He needed to talk to Ally. Abe was right. There had to be a way to get over this issue with Shay. He had to find a way to put it aside. He would.
Except, how could they get over it? What happened with Shay was just a symptom of a greater problem. Because there would be more Shays in the future, more cases where they would disagree. And more Gingers, where Ally put concern for herself far below that of the patient. Except eventually she’d go too far.
“There’s more to it than that. The night before the rally we had a fight.”
“About what?” Hannah asked. “Ally doesn’t seem like a fighter.”
“She’s not. It wasn’t really a fight. It was more of an airing of irreconcilable differences. But it was a game changer.” He made eye contact with the eldest of his sisters. “About you, Shay.”
Eyes wide, mouth open, she looked appalled by the notion, and her words confirmed it. “Me? But I love Ally. I know I was mean about her at first, but that was before I knew her. Before she...”
“Yeah, I know. Before. Before she treated you or...whatever you want to call it. I got very angry when I learned that she’s been giving you medical advice. It was one thing to give Hannah tea and herbs and recommend acupuncture or whatever. That stuff felt harmless. But I couldn’t stand the thought of her giving you false hope about having a baby. She crossed a line.”
“Wait a minute.” Iris glared at him. “So, Ally’s beliefs are okay so long as you approve, as long as you believe they’re harmless? The omnipotent medical authority on all conditions, Taggart James, gets to decide how much value there is to Ally’s vast knowledge and experience? Not to mention the brilliant and respected grandfather doctor who taught her?”
“Iris, I understand what you’re saying. It’s not that, not necessarily. It’s just...this felt...personal. And Shay’s situation is different. It’s way more serious. It’s about who she is.”
Shay inhaled deeply before letting her breath whoosh out. “She didn’t give me false hope, you well-meaning dolt of a brother. In fact, she didn’t give me any medical advice whatsoever.”
He turned a frown on Shay. “But when I asked her what was going on with you, she said I should talk to you.”
Shay smiled. “Of course she did. Because I told her some things in confidence. All we did was talk. About how you can’t change things by worrying about them. You can only change your reaction to situations. And about stress and how bad it is for the body, how it’s not a good climate to grow a baby.”
Tag sighed and looked at the ceiling.
“Wait, Tag, I know how that sounds. I was going to wait a few more weeks to announce it but today makes three months, and the doctor said if I make it three months there’s a very good chance, in my case, that I’ll make it nine.”
Iris slapped a hand over her mouth and let out a squeal.
Even in his sleep-deprived state, Tag understood what her words meant. A helium-like euphoria expanded inside him. Tears stung his eyes, not tears but joy-filled drops of happiness.
Voice raspy with emotion he said, “Shay...really?”
“Really, Tag, I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, my... I’m so... Shay, I’m just... Congratulations.” With a clumsy fist, he swiped at his tears.
Much more gracefully, his sister dabbed at her cheeks. “Ally was only trying to help me get over my fear. I needed to find my joy again so I could make a peaceful place to grow our baby. It probably sounds crazy to you, but it worked for me, allowing my brain to accept the possibility that it might actually happen this time. Letting my body accept the baby. And accepting whatever was going to happen, one way or another. I mean, I don’t know if it worked scientifically or whatever, but changing my mind-set has made me happy. And I haven’t been happy in a while. Too long.” Shay’s eyes refilled with tears. “I’m so grateful Jonah hasn’t divorced me. I haven’t been easy to live with.”
“Shay!” Hannah admonished. “He would never.”
“I know.” Shay sniffled on a laugh. “I’m just super emotional. Hormones. You have no idea how good it feels to say that.”
Tag walked to his sister and wrapped her in his arms. “You’re going to be such a great mom.”
“Because I want this so much,” she said, nodding. “And I want it for you, too. Someday.” She pulled away. “And speaking of that, we’re here to talk about Ally. Are you going to the hearing?”
“What hearing? Iris mentioned it earlier, but you guys came in and...” He added a helpless shrug.
“Ally obviously didn’t tell you that, either,” Iris said.
“Tell me what?”
“Tag,” Hannah said, “there’s a special hospital board meeting tomorrow, a disciplinary hearing. Dr. Boyd is trying to get Ally fired.”