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“You don’t have cancer, Patricia,” Rubin stated. “You’re not going to die, so you can put that right out of your mind. You’ll be cooking for those sons of yours, Diego and me, and now Jonquille, for many years to come. Probably old man Gunthrie as well. Has he been around?”

Jonquille knew the last question was asked partially to distract her so she could finish the examination. Rubin already had his palms so close to Patricia’s neck Jonquille almost abandoned the last of her inspection of the leg and ankle, but she forced discipline and then hurriedly followed Rubin.

“Are you certain, Rubin?” Patricia whispered. “I was so certain.”

“I’m certain. I’m going to work on you and show Jonquille how. You’re going to feel warm, even hot, in some places. Once we work on this side, we will have to work on the other side. Then I’m going to insist on examining your back. You can’t sleep because you’re doing so much hard labor and lifting loads that are far too heavy. I’ve talked to you about that before.”

Rubin’s voice was very low, gentle even, but extremely firm. His tone carried authority that wasn’t to be ignored, not by anyone. Jonquille found him fascinating. He didn’t need to shout or look cold and unfeeling. He could deliver his orders in a gentle, caring way, infusing them with a command, but not a threat. He made those around him want to obey him. He didn’t bully them into doing so. Her respect for him continued to grow.

The heat Rubin generated was far more than what Jonquille was summoning from the well inside of her, which didn’t make sense since she drew energy and her temperature was always so hot. He was a miracle to her, moving with absolute confidence over every part of Patricia’s neck and horribly scarred frozen shoulder.

Work with me, Jonquille.

Her heart skipped a beat. She might ruin everything. This was too big of a risk. Patricia was an incredible woman and she meant so much to him. If Jonquille made a mistake and hurt that fragile shoulder, making it worse … She shook her head.

Work with me. Feel the way the heat rises in you. Healing happens. You don’t do it yourself. You already have knowledge of the body. The scar tissue has to go. The faster we get this done, the more on her body we can take care of. You were born to do this.

His absolute confidence in her was astounding. He didn’t look at her. He looked at Patricia. He didn’t order her. He simply acted as if he were stating facts. He believed in her. Jonquille allowed her palms to mimic Rubin’s—settling over the scar tissue causing such problems, this time about three inches above the shoulder. She took a deep breath and concentrated on opening the well of healing deep inside her.

Heat rose fast, rushing up to spread out across her arms to her hands and fingers. She closed her eyes, visualizing that heat going straight to the scars on the shoulder, removing them, creating the clean lines again so Patricia wouldn’t have pain or lack of movement.

Nice. Keep moving. Don’t stop there. Look down the arm at her joints. Keep going.

He was moving around to the other side of the bed and Jonquille nearly panicked. Where are you going? Rubin.

You’re doing just fine. Take each problem one step at a time but keep working steadily. Just as you assessed her, fix the problems. I hit the worst of them. I’ll take care of this side and then we’ll work on her back. After that we have to convince her sons to keep her from working so hard again. Maybe this time they’ll listen.

For the first time she caught a little hint of anger toward the absent brothers who hadn’t protected their mother more. She understood. Rubin’s mother was buried in the graveyard behind his cabin. He couldn’t save her no matter how many times he came back and helped other families. He’d cautioned Patricia and evidently her sons as well.

There was no change of expression on his face. Even in his mind, he appeared calm. Again, she liked that about him. Rubin wasn’t a man given to losing his temper. He wouldn’t fly into a rage. He could get angry if provoked, but he stayed in control.

The longer she worked, the more she grew in confidence. She didn’t constantly check in her mind to make certain Rubin was right there overseeing her. The visualization came easier. She knew when she was on the right path and when something didn’t feel right. Twice she caught the beginning of arthritis and was able to stop it. That was a victory for her. In Patricia’s leg, one vein wasn’t working quite as well as it should be. She went back and reassessed to see why the blood wasn’t flowing properly.


Tags: Christine Feehan GhostWalkers Paranormal