Lightning Game (GhostWalkers #17) -Christine Feehan Page 0,45
different way. Part of the reason I came early was to conduct a few experiments. I knew we were expecting a series of intense thunderstorms. I would like to see a few patients. Luther Gunthrie lives down at the very bottom of the mountain. He’s gotten up there in age and I’m always afraid I’ll find he’s passed sitting at his still. I like to check on him. He still considers me a twelve-year-old boy, but he lets me see to his ailments. Rose and Thomas Carter have a farm on the other side of Whiskey’s Point, and they have several children. They were kids when Diego and I were young.”
“I presume they’re a little more modern than Luther Gunthrie.”
Rubin glanced down at her. The early morning sun hit her face with a bright beam through the trees, lighting up the blue of her eyes. She looked a little mischievous. A little fey.
“Everyone is much more modern than Luther,” he assured her. “Then there’s the Sawyer family. I’m very fond of them.”
“I can hear that in your voice,” Jonquille said. “What is it about them?”
“It’s important to see Patricia Sawyer. She married my brotherin-law Mathew, a couple of years after my sister Mary died. She raised Mary’s son as her own. Patricia lost Mathew a few years ago to cancer. I tried to save him, but it was pancreatic cancer and it was too far advanced by the time I discovered it. Patricia’s special. You’ll see when you meet her.”
Regret swept over him. They had come to the edge of a small clearing. Many of the animals came here to drink from the stream. He indicated the flatter rocks sticking out from where a larger tree had uprooted during a winter flash flood. Jonquille seated herself and he sank down beside her, tucking her in close to his body to provide warmth. She was dressed for the early morning hours, but they were exposed to the wind now and the gusts were biting cold.
“Rubin.” Jonquille’s voice was very gentle. A whisper of sound.
He looked down at her. Those vibrant blue eyes stole his breath. Her gaze drifted over his face as if he was really important to her. As if he mattered. Not the rare psychic surgeon. She didn’t even know that about him. Not the healer. Not even the man who could direct energy from her. Just the man. She saw the man. Him. Rubin Campo. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone other than Diego saw inside of him and he counted for something.
She twisted his hand until his knuckles were on top, and she brought them to her mouth. Her lips were cool and soft. His hand enveloped hers. Swallowed it completely. Even as she kissed his knuckles, her blue eyes met his. There was a curious melting sensation in his chest, right over the region of his heart. He was a doctor and he knew it was impossible for a heart to actually melt, yet she managed to give him that illusion.
“You know, no matter how good of a healer you are, you can’t save the world. I thought I could as well, but I learned it was impossible. You know that.”
He nodded, expecting her to drop his hand back to her lap, but she didn’t—she pressed their clasped hands under her chin, as if she held something valuable and precious to her close.
“I do, but sometimes it feels as if I’m continually saving strangers. I want to save them, but it isn’t personal. It isn’t the same as the ones I care so much about. I feel like I’m always losing them. I try to distance myself, but one by one they fall until I’m alone. I hold too tight to Diego. He’s a good man. He deserves a life, and he could have it if he weren’t so busy standing guard over me all the time.”
“He knows he has a choice,” she pointed out. “In any case, he probably feels exactly the same way. You’re lucky you have each other.”
Her voice had a way of working its way inside of him. He had to look away from the intensity of her blue eyes. If he didn’t, he’d be kissing her again, and it took discipline and control to put the brakes on the last time. He’d all but run out of that.
“I try never to take him for granted,” Rubin said. He slid his thumb over her knuckles. “I would