Free Good Medicine by Bobby Hutchinson

you’re at it.”
    â€œGlad to.” Roberta led the way into Jordan’s kitchen. “This here’s a damper, you gotta make sure it’s open before you start or you’ll smoke yourself out. You’ve got some kindling—that’s a good start. And paper.” Popping crumpled newspaper into the stove, she laid thin strips of alder on top.
    â€œMatches.” She lit one from a tin container hanging on the wall. The paper flared and the kindling caught. “Then you just add wood, starting with small stuff and moving up to logs. When it gets going good, you move the damper a little this way—” she demonstrated “—so all the heat doesn’t go up the chimney. Easy as anything.”
    â€œYeah, about as easy as brain surgery.” Jordan groaned.
    Roberta laughed, emptying last night’s dregs from the enamel coffeepot, deftly filling it with water and measuring out spoonfuls of coffee from a tin. Lifting the stove lid, she added more wood. “You never cooked on a woodstove?”
    â€œI never cooked much on any sort of stove.”
    â€œThen I’ll fix you some breakfast.”
    â€œYou don’t have to do that. There’s cereal in the cupboard, and juice.”
    â€œNo bother.” Roberta had found a black iron skillet, and eggs from the fridge. “Louie’ll want eggs, if I know him. And you oughta have something hot under your belt, it’s gonna be a busy day. You might not get a chance to eat again for a while. Everybody’s been savin’ up their bellyaches because they knew you were comin’.”
    It was a prophetic statement.
    When her cell rang late that afternoon, Jordan glanced at her watch and couldn’t believe the time. It was past five, and there were still six people waiting to see her. She’d already treated eighteen. Roberta had been absolutely right, everyone had been saving up their ailments—but more out of curiosity than real need. In any case, the day had passed in a blur.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œHey, squirt, how’s it going out there in the boonies?”
    â€œToby.” A wave of love and loneliness swept through Jordan when she heard her brother’s deep, gruff voice. “Oh, damn! I said I’d call you as soon as I got here, didn’t I? I’m so sorry. Things got a little hairy here.”
    â€œNo sweat, I just wanted to make sure you got there safe and you’re getting settled okay.”
    â€œI did and I am. Hold on one minute, it’s not too private here.”
    She went to the open door, motioned at the phoneand held up a finger signifying a moment’s delay to her next patient.
    The elderly woman nodded and smiled. Everyone else nodded, as well, and Jordan shoved the door closed. Leaning against it, she shut her eyes and visualized Toby’s ruggedly handsome features, his slate-blue eyes two shades darker than her own, his tall, thin, deceptively strong body.
    â€œEveryone’s so friendly,” she said into the phone. “The entire village seems to be cooking for me—pies, cookies, even a roast. They’ve made me very welcome.”
    â€œHome cooking, huh? Got a spare room?”
    â€œAbsolutely.” She knew he was teasing, but she jumped at the chance to see him. “When can I expect you?”
    â€œMaybe when this yacht gets done,” he said with a sigh. “I need a holiday. The stress is getting to me.”
    â€œAre you feeling okay?” The last time they’d talked, Toby had mentioned migraines and sore muscles. “More headaches?”
    â€œMostly a pain in the ass. The owner’s got more money than patience, and he keeps changing his damned mind. So I’m grinding my teeth and putting in long hours. But once I get the bulkheads in, he’s going to have to take it the way it is, no more changes.”
    â€œAnd then you’ll come?”
    â€œI’ll try. You didn’t