Page 5 of Rehabbing the Beast
Chapter Four
Six months of hell, that’s what it was. Six months of grueling rehab with sorry-assed sons of bitches who lived and breathed to make his life as miserable as possible. Six months of enduring the hatred and disgust from the physical therapists who thought he was a rotten, heartless bastard.
And not once, in all that time, did Quinn come to see him.
Notonce.
He didn’t miss her. Not at all. He didnotwake up every morning with the miniscule hope of seeing those soft gray eyes trying to puzzle him out. Nor did he haul his pathetic ass back into bed at night, disappointed when yet another day passed without one single flash of gray.
He didnotthink about the clever ways she’d had of putting him through his paces. Of mercifully distracting him through the worst of it while still getting the job done.
And he definitely didnotache to feel those small, strong hands massaging his legs, back, and arms with those oils she used to keep in small, dark brown bottles in her scrubs. The ones that heated his skin and smelled like a forest in winter and allowed him enough relief to be able to sleep at night. No one else used them except her. They probably weren’t even legal.
But hedidremember the last time he’d seen her as if it had only just happened. How he had spun his chair away from her as he spat out those last hateful words and caught those big, haunting gray eyes looking at him in such a way that it made his physical pain seem negligible by comparison.
The other therapists talked about her sometimes, usually when they didn’t think he could hear them. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought she possessed a special gift, a healing touch that no one else came close to duplicating. Inevitably he would then feel their resentful stares burning holes in the back of his head, as if her leaving had been allhisfault.
Even his inner beast blamed him. It remained curled somewhere deep inside him, refusing to lift its massive head as it sulked and pined for her.
From what he could gather, she hadn’t just left her job; she had blown town entirely. She’d moved away, somewhere up north to live with her aging grandmother or something. It eased him slightly to think that maybe she hadn’t left solely because of him, but because her elderly relative needed her.
Seth was desperate for information—any information—about Quinn, but no one was willingly sharing anything with him. It didn’t matter. Now that he was finally getting out, he would go find out the truth for himself.
* * *
“QUINN, LASS, THAT’Sthe third time ye’ve ground the same pinch of root. 'Tis no good as a paste, mind ye.”
“Sorry,” Quinn apologized, pushing the powdered root from the stone mortar and pestle with her index finger into the small glass jar under Siobhan’s watchful eye. It wasn’t like her granddaughter to be so distracted, but these last few months it was obvious the girl’s mind was elsewhere.
Quinn was a godsend, a sweet child who had been forced to endure more than she ever should have, all because of events entirely beyond her control. Life was rarely fair, but in this particular instance, it seemed about as unjust as it could be.
Siobhan wished there was something she could do for her granddaughter. She hadn’t even been aware of the girl’s existence until Quinn was already in her late teens, a mere shadow in the midst of Siobhan’s hulking son and grandsons. They’d been only too glad to be rid of her, and Siobhan had been glad to have her. Siobhan had never been accepted by her son’s wife because of her special abilities. Marie was a devout Catholic and viewed Siobhan’s healing skills as nothing short of blasphemous witchcraft. Fergus Brennan had been forced to make a choice between his family and the woman he loved, and he chose Marie.
Siobhan didn’t blame him. A man was meant to leave the nest and make his own way in the world. That was the way of things, and truth be told, he never would have been happy in Erehwon. He was her son, yes, but he had chosen to lock away that part of him that would have thrived here. But perhaps if they had retained some contact, she might have known about her special granddaughter and been able to intervene sooner.
“Ye have the Gift, Quinn,” she’d said, feeling the truth of it after spending only a few minutes in her presence. Quinn had inherited the healing touch, an ancient skill passed down from woman to woman since the time of the Druids. Siobhan had feared that in having only a son, the gift had been lost forever, and had been ecstatic to see it alive and so strong in her granddaughter.
Disillusioned by modern medicine, there were many who called upon Siobhan to provide care not available in hospitals and doctor’s offices. Since Quinn had come to live with her, demand had never been higher. The girl was a natural. People were instinctively drawn to her quiet, soothing nature. At first, Siobhan feared all the attention – especially that of the young bucks – would go to Quinn’s head after being ignored for all those years, but so far, she had remained blissfully unaffected.
Siobhan sat down at the ancient, scarred wooden table and put her tiny hand over Quinn’s with a sigh. “What’s his name then?”
Quinn had the good grace not to look her grandmother in the eye. “Who?”
Inwardly, Siobhan sighed. She was tired of pussyfooting around. With a hard winter not far off they would need to harvest and prepare as much as they could now. Quinn’s arrival had been nothing less than a blessing, but it would take both of them to get the village through till spring.
“The one ye pine fer, o’ course.”
“I’m not pining for anyone, Gran,” Quinn countered.
“Bullshite. I ken a lass in love when I see one. And yer farther gone than most. Ye have it bad, Quinn lass.”
* * *
QUINN NEVER EVEN CONSIDEREDthe possibility that her grandmother wouldn’t know exactly what her problem was. She’d known from the moment Quinn arrived at her door six months earlier with a trunk full of boxes filled with the meager possessions she’d managed to accumulate. Quinn was grateful that Siobhan had left the matter as long as she had, giving her every opportunity to work through it on her own. As of this morning, however, it seemed her grace period was up.
“I think all these herbs are addling your senses. Maybe we should take a row in the lake this afternoon to clear your head.”
“Och! Such disrespect,” Siobhan lamented, but there was no mistaking the twinkle in her eye.
