“What?” he said.

“He said he couldn’t take it anymore—my plethora of problems. He said I was sucking the life out of him. He broke it off, not me. And the funny thing about that is, we didn’t even live in the same town. We texted, talked, emailed, saw each when we could—every couple of days or weeks. I was having too many problems for anyone, but I looked back through the texts and emails—they weren’t all my problems. There were friendly, chatty little things, affectionate comments, questions about him and his ER and his daughter. In fact, there’s more bitching about his alimony and custody issues than what I’d been dealing with. I realized I wasn’t supposed to have any problems. I was supposed to be his mommy and lover and cheerleader. I’d fallen down on the job by getting needy. He wanted me to get professional help so I could get back to work. Not work as a surgeon, work as his support system.” She took a deep breath. “It was my best friend, who is also my doctor, who said, ‘Get out of town for a week or two! Get some rest.’ There was no reason not to. I was grateful for the push.”

“How the hell did he think he was going to get that kind of attention and nurturing from a neurosurgeon? Aren’t you a little too overwhelmed on an average day to take on a little boy and all his little needs?”

She was silent for a moment. “Oh, I do like you, Callum. Where are you from?”

“I’m from everywhere. If he wasn’t doing anything for you...”

“Why was I with him? After he dumped me, I asked myself that question. It was comfortable in many ways. I had someone to talk to, play with, sit next to during a bad movie. Someone to go to a restaurant with, someone to make love to. But then he left me and basically said it was my fault.”

Cal grinned. “You won’t have any trouble filling the position. Maybe around here it’ll be iffy. But when you go back to Denver...”

“Since I’ve been here, since Sully has been doing better, I’m starting to feel almost normal. I’m going to milk this for a little while. Since I don’t have a job.”

“Were you bored with surgery?”

“You don’t get bored with the kind of surgery I do. There’s no margin for boredom. The pressure is too intense and the odds against success, despite our progress, are still too high. Never bored. I think I might’ve been addicted to the rush—it’s damned exciting. I might be making a change, however. I’ll think about that for a while. I like it here. It’s pretty uncomplicated,” she said, leaning toward him for a kiss.

She tasted of Chivas and playfulness and he lapped it up. He was starting to have thoughts of going further.

“And what about you, Calico? You have no job, you’ve been here for weeks, you don’t have a woman, you don’t seem to be doing anything...”

“Shame on you, I dug your whole damn garden. I stock your shelves every day, fish off the dock, hike around the crossing and build a fire for you at night. Then I let you talk. I’ve been very busy.”

“What brought you here?”

“I was looking at the CDT trail map and from New Mexico to Salida across the Rockies it’s frozen. I hate being cold. I’m just waiting for some of that snowpack to melt and then I want to do some serious hiking. I decided when I left Walt’s World to take six months to wander, then I’ll settle somewhere and get back to work. I’m just doing what you’re doing. I’m just taking a break. Thinking.”

“Did you graduate from high school?”

“Yes,” he said, laughing.

“Did you go to college at all?”