Page 49 of Truly, Madly Viking

Maggie had never before been to a nightclub in the daytime. But she was in one now. And she was having the time of her life. So was everyone else.

And it wasn't just because this particular club was a local country-western hangout, as well as a Galveston tourist attraction. There appeared to be a spirit of freedom and comradeship and normalcy in the patients that Maggie had never seen back at the hospital.

They had eaten a late lunch first... Tex-Mex all around: mesquite-grilled shrimp fajitas with gua camole salads, and strawberry sopapillas for dessert. Everyone had been permitted one beer each; they'd all declined in deference to Steve, who must avoid even a drop of liquor or fall off the wagon.

Now most of the group was up on the dance floor, alongside other patrons, learning the beginning steps of a line dance. With Brooks and Dunn belting out "Boot Scootin' Boogie," everyone was laughing and smiling, even as they tripped over their own feet. The dance instructors, a cute young blonde in a cowgirl outfit similar to Natalie's and a lean young man in jeans, a cowboy shirt, and boots, repeated the instructions over and over... such things as heel bounce, stomp, shuffle, camel walk, knee roll, vine fight and left, pivot, and lots of scoots and touches. The "touch" call meant a smart slap on the buttocks.

Joe was sitting across the table from her, shaking his head from side to side at the group's antics, as he sipped at a soda. He was the only one who'd refused to participate in the dancing. Maggie had chosen to sit it out with him.

He repeated now what he'd said then: "Why would a grown man willingly make such a fool of himself?."

"It's fun," she declared. "Sometimes people do things just for the fun of it."

"Idiots, mayhap."

"Come on now, haven't you ever enjoyed an activity that involved laughing at yourself?"

"Nay," he answered. "Have you?"

"Of course. Rollerblading, which resulted in many black-and-blue marks on my rump.... "

He craned his neck to the side, as if half expecting her to drop her jeans and show him. When she gave him a sharp "As if!" look, he just grinned and took another sip of soda.

"And roller coasters, which terrify me, but I ride them anyway."

"Roller coasters?"

She explained briefly, then noted, "One of my daughters, Suzy, is a real T-type personality. She must have inherited it from her father, because I sure don't have a daredevil bone in my body. Remember, I told you that T-types like to take risks. They revel in being scared to death. My other daughter, Beth, isn't afraid of roller coasters, but she doesn't get the thrill of the thrill, like Suzy does."

She noticed a slight flicker of emotion on Joe's face at the mention of her girls, but he soon masked it.

"And you think I enjoy being frightened?"

"Well, weren't you frightened riding on top of that killer whale?"

"Extremely," he agreed, "but I did not engage in that activity by choice. In fact, most times I take no unwarranted risks. A good leader never gambles with his troop's lives."

She nodded.

Then he homed in on something else she'd said. "You mentioned your daughter's father being a risk taker."

It was Maggie's turn to bristle now. She shouldn't be discussing her personal life with a patient. But the atmosphere was so relaxed here, and she didn't want to spoil the mood by making Joe feel he'd crossed some fine.

"Judd Haskell was a surgical resident at Houston General Hospital. He had only one year to go before he would have been a full-fledged doctor."

"Another dock-whore!"

"Joe, you do know that a doctor is a physician, don't you?"

"A healer?" he asked. His face bloomed a lovely shade of red. "I knew that."

She narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

"Well, I didn't know at first, but later I learned about dock-whores being healers on The Guiding Light.

Betimes I forget, though. 'Tis such an odd name to give a healer."

Sometimes it saddened Maggie to hear Joe use such archaic language and misunderstand so much about the language and culture of America. He seemed so normal that she could almost believe he was as sane as she was. "Back to your question about Judd. He died taking a foolish risk... foolish in my opinion, anyway. He was skydiving, and his parachute malfunctioned."