Lightning Game (GhostWalkers #17) -Christine Feehan Page 0,139

I could tell, Rubin, from the work you had to do.” Her voice trembled.

“It was troubling, in that had you mentioned the problem earlier it would have been easier to take care of. Nonny, you can’t neglect your health this way.” Rubin waited until the older woman sat down in the chair and faced them, gripping the arms tightly with her fingers.

“I know, Rubin. I didn’t want to trouble anyone when you all have so much work. I took healing herbs and thought that would work. When it didn’t, I thought I had the cancer and nothing would do for it. I’m not young anymore, and sooner or later, it’s bound to get me.”

“Not everyone gets cancer, Nonny,” Rubin pointed out. “Two of your arteries were clogged. That put you in danger of having a stroke or heart attack. Either could have killed you or left you in a vegetative state. Ordinarily, you would have to go into the hospital or have one of the others operate here for that. I took care of it, but I would prefer that you don’t discuss that with anyone but Wyatt and Gator. Naturally, that’s up to you.”

Jonquille thought that was another thing about Rubin that was so brilliant—the way he gave choices. He didn’t tell Nonny she couldn’t tell everyone about the doctor who had saved her life. His preference was that she didn’t talk about him, but it was her choice. Nonny was very private, and Jonquille doubted that she’d ever give up Rubin’s secret to anyone but her grandsons.

“Thank you for taking care of me, Rubin. I don’t think anyone else has to know. Is this because I smoke my pipe?”

“Smoking may have contributed, but I checked your lungs and your brain and both are perfectly fine. No signs of small strokes or the beginnings of COPD, most likely because the tobacco is your own blend, without all the harmful additives, and you only smoke one bowl at night. I’m not going to tell you to stop at this late date. It’s something you enjoy. Wyatt and Gator might have a different opinion, but that’s between the three of you.”

Jonquille was with Rubin on that. If Nonny were having lung issues and having to use oxygen, or her blood pressure was up, anything that might have indicated her smoking that pipe at night was a major health problem, Jonquille would have advised against it. At eighty, Nonny still worked hard. Taking away her one vice wasn’t going to do much good or harm either way.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a while,” Nonny said, pushing herself up. “You do need to eat, Rubin. Would you like me to bring you dinner?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you, Nonny,” Rubin said.

Jonquille knew he wasn’t hungry, but Nonny needed to repay him in some way, and he had to allow it. Food was her way of showing her affection.

When the older woman had left the room, Jonquille found herself looking into those dark eyes again. Immediately, her heart reacted, clenching hard in her chest. “What?” There was no looking away.

“I told you I would do my best to heal you, Jonquille, even if it meant losing you. You didn’t say if you’d leave me.”

She studied his face. Those lines carved so deep. She wanted to lift her hand and smooth the lines with her fingers, but she was still too weak. She knew if she chose wrong, she would mourn her loss every single day. Men like Rubin didn’t come along often.

“I would never give you up, Rubin. Not for any price. If I have to live apart from the rest of the world and have just the two of us, it would be worth it to me. Still, I think we owe it to everyone to see if it’s possible to help them tone Whitney’s enhancements down just a little.”

She knew she’d given Rubin the right answer. Brightness came into his dark brown eyes slowly, but it kept building until there was sheer joy lighting his handsome features.

17

Rubin, this house is beautiful. Is it really yours?” Jonquille walked through the empty rooms with the vaulted ceilings. It was all cypress. All wood, the planks fit tightly into one another, just as the Fontenot home had been built. The wood had been carefully treated to make certain it would last. This was a home built with care and kept with love.

Rubin had appreciated the craftsmanship the moment he’d walked into it. There wasn’t