“No, this was a get-to-know-you game to help the players find common ground.”
“Sounds fun. Did you enjoy it?”
I gave him a hesitant look. “Yes and no. The topics were sometimes challenging. It brought up stuff for me that I didn’t expect.”
“Such as?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said quickly. Why had I answered honestly? I knew better than to open the personal door more than a crack.
“Of course it matters,” the druid said. “Games are meant to be fun. If your response is to slam the lid on your experience, then I think that’s worth exploring, don’t you?”
I dropped onto the sofa with such force that I bounced on the cushion. “We talked about our childhood and relationships.” I shook my head, remembering the exchanges with Joan. We should’ve called it trauma dump instead of game night.
“It can be difficult to open up to people when you’re out of practice. You need to exercise sharing like it’s a muscle. The more you do it, the easier it gets, and the stronger you become.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” As strong as I was, I didn’t think weight training ever got easier, no matter how many years I’d been doing it. Gods forbid I took a break, like I did this week, then it was even harder to get back into a routine afterward.
“You can practice sharing with me,” Dr. Adam said. “People tell me I’m a good listener.”
He was. I already knew that from firsthand experience. “That might be part of the problem. I don’t think I want to be heard.” Or seen, for that matter.
“Well, I won’t push you, but if and when you’re ready, I’m here.”
“You’re an all-around druid, aren’t you?”
“The healing arts are wide and varied. I prefer to provide a balm for the inside as well as the outside.”
I stared at him in awe. “What were your parents like? Did they hug you every day and tell you they loved you?”
He blinked, seemingly stunned by the questions. “Naturally. They were my parents.”
“That explains it, then.”
“Jinx is all finished.” He booped her nose. “You were an excellent patient, Jinx. Thank you for your cooperation.”
The cat meowed, then ran to scratch at the door. I didn’t blame her for needing space. I crossed the room to let her out, just as the druid’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.
“Dr. Adam.” He listened intently to the caller, which gave me a chance to observe him unnoticed. I could tell how much he cared about his patients. About everyone with whom he interacted. He may have been born into druidhood, but he excelled in the field.
He also excelled as a person. Handsome, kind, patient, emotionally healthy. A golden retriever in human form. Sadly, his wasn’t the face I conjured when I fell asleep at night. I wished it was. Then I could finally settle into life on the island, trulyintegrate. Maybe even hang a few framed photos. It was a nice dream, but it wasn’t to be. I came to the island to hide, not play happy homemaker with a man who deserved better.
“That was Ronald’s caregiver,” Dr. Adam said, setting the phone on the table. “He isn’t waking up. I should check on him.”
“He hasn’t shown signs of improvement, then.”
“No. Quite the opposite. I’m troubled by his downward spiral. Nothing I do seems to make a difference.”
“Are you still convinced there’s an unnatural influence at work?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“In that case, would you mind if I come with you?”
“Not at all. I’d be thrilled if we could figure out a way to pull him out of this strange slumber. He can’t continue down this road, or he might not have the strength to recover.”
Dr. Adam had gone out of his way for me; the least I could do was take another look at Ronald.
Outside, I climbed into the passenger seat of Dr. Adam’s golf cart. As we passed a gaggle of Neighbors, I immediately regretted this decision. Tongues would be wagging that we were spotted sharing a cart—in the morning, no less. I’d have to stamp out the romance rumor at the first opportunity.
