by Lyn Cote
Annie gave him the name and address of the foster home for the kittens. He went in search of Amy and found her sitting in the break room, eating her sub.
“How would you like to be on TV?”
Amy didn’t choke, but she did drop half her sandwich in her lap.
He smiled for the first time that day.
Jake sat in the passenger seat of Amy’s van, stiff as an icicle. The girls and kittens were behind them. Bummer had insisted on lying on the floor at the twins’ feet. Ahead, Annie and the five rescued kittens were on the way in her salt-encrusted SUV.
“Jake,” Amy said quietly, “you need to loosen up. I feel like you’re about to snap like a rubber band. This is just a small TV station. It’s not like it’s Milwaukee or Chicago or something.”
Jake appreciated Amy’s effort to ease his stage fright. “I don’t like speaking in front of people.” Don’t like paled in comparison to his true gut reaction. I hate speaking in front of people. I’d rather be facing a root canal.
Amy drove up a hillside drive to a building surrounded by a “farm” of huge satellite dishes. Annie had already arrived. She stood inside the doorway with the box of kittens. Jake, Amy, the girls and Bummer ran to Annie, who held the door open for them. Then they milled around the receptionist, who pointed them to the coatrack.
The broadcaster, a pleasant-looking young woman in a simple blue pantsuit, came forward greeting them. “I’m Shelley. Let’s sit over here.” She motioned toward an area of chairs that Jake recognized from watching interviews of local people speaking about community projects and gatherings. “Now, you don’t have anything to be nervous about,” she said as they were all seated.
Jake wished she hadn’t said that. He zoned out then, freezing in place in his chair.
Then the broadcaster rose. “Time to start. I’ll join you for our live interview in a few moments.”
Live interview. The words gave him an electrical shock of terror. He’d thought it would be taped, so if he said something stupid, it could be edited out. Why had he agreed to this?
Amy, Annie and the girls chatted around him, then became silent as the five o’clock news show launched. The critical moment arrived. During a commercial break, Shelley swooped into the chair beside Jake. “Everyone miked?”
Just a few minutes before, another woman had fitted them all with little black bud microphones. So Jake nodded woodenly. I hate this.
Suddenly Shelley beamed. “Hi! Today we have the volunteers from our local animal shelter here, Dr. Jake McClure and Annie Slocomb. Dr. McClure, your shelter is experiencing problems. Could you explain the situation?”
Rachel raised her hand. “I can. I can.”
Shelley chuckled. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Rachel and these are Twinkie and Peanut-Butter, the kittens we rescued.” At that moment, Bummer perked up and barked; then he began licking the kittens vigorously.
“Good grief,” Shelley said.
“Bummer thinks he’s their daddy,” Cassie explained. “He’s just grooming them like a mama cat would.”
“Shelley,” Annie spoke up, “this is the wonder of kids and animals. Our problem right now is that we have too many animals and not enough children. We no longer have any room for new strays. This winter has been so harsh, I think people are putting off adopting a new pet. But the animals still need us.”
“Yes, the shelter is a no-kill shelter,” Amy said. “I think people should know they need to brave the winter and come to the shelter to adopt.”
Jake sat happily silent, letting the females take the lead.
“These kitties need to be adopted,” Rachel said, nodding down at the five balls of fur on Annie’s lap.
“They are really sweet,” Cassie agreed. “But we got two kittens and that’s all we can have at our house.”
“But other children should ask their parents to bring them to the shelter,” Rachel said earnestly. “The animals there all want homes, not staying in cages.” She shook her head soulfully.
Shelley chuckled. “This is certainly one of the easiest and most fun interviews I’ve done in a while. Now if people would like to adopt any of these kittens, what do they have to do?” She focused on Jake.
He cleared his throat. “Drop by the animal shelter. We’re usually open every day but Sunday.” Perspiration popped out on his forehead.
“Yes,” Annie chimed in, “we’re on County K near River Road. We need volunteers, foster homes for animals and most of all, people who can find room for a pet or two in their homes. Pets bring so much love into our lives. Dr. Jake and I have discussed starting a place where disabled or disadvantaged children can interact with so-called unwanted animals. But first we need to get our community supporting the animal shelter. Then we can take it a big step further. Dr. Jake has already offered us his property as the location of this future effort.”
Shelley looked startled. “That sounds really interesting. I’d like to have you and Dr. Jake come back sometime soon and tell us more. This sounds like something that would benefit our whole community.”
“We’d be happy to come again,” Annie replied, “but right now we really need people ready to adopt or foster animals. And we need that to happen now.”
Shelley gave the contact information for the shelter, thanked them and petted Bummer and then the next commercial freed them from the camera.
“Great idea about the place for animals and disabled children,” Shelley said. “I’ve read about equine therapy for emotionally disturbed children, with NARHA, the North American Riding for the Handicapped Association.”
“We’re looking to provide something like that here in the future,” Annie declared, glancing at Jake.
Jake swallowed. Why had Annie shined light on his secret ambition here in such a public way?
“Great.” Shelley hurried back to her desk in front of the cameras. “Keep me posted!”
Still tense, Jake tried to relax. However, Annie’s unexpected announcement kept him taut. “Annie,” he muttered, “why did you bring that up? I’m not near ready to do anything—”
“If I waited on you, I’d be in my old age before anything actually happened. I know you’re too busy with your practice and I’m too busy running the shelter. But by bringing it up here, someone out there may have heard this. And that might be the person who has been wanting to do something similar who will connect with us.” Annie shrugged. “How could it hurt?”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Amy added. “I’ll do what I can to help.”
“See?” Annie grinned. “Gotta run.” And Annie gathered up the kittens, petted Bummer and left, whistling.
Amy and Jake rounded their tribe up and soon sat back in the van. “I thought that went pretty well,” Amy said, driving toward the clinic. “Do you really want to turn your acreage into a place for animals and disabled children?”
“Yes, but I’m just too busy now to get it off the ground.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” Amy said ruefully. “Let’s pray that someone heard and will pick up the flag and lead the effort.”
Jake knew he should agree with every word Amy had just said. Nonetheless, an irrational urge to protect his dream reared its nasty head. It was his idea after all. He leaned back and slowly released the tension in his neck and back. Amy’s right. “I can’t argue with you about that.” But it still didn’t sit right. So what was he going to do about it?
In the church basement for the Winter Carnival, Amy had parked herself at a crowded table, but alone at one end. She didn’t crave company this bleak night. She listened to the faint jangling of the power lines outside, dancing high with the wild wind. Then a violent gust blasted, whistling around the solid red brick church. She rubbed her arms against a phantom chill, then folded them as if protecting herself. Had it started to snow? That could change into a blizzard. Should they have come?
And she wished the girls hadn’t invited Jake here tonight. Her chin lowered.
Their quiet moment with the kittens had peeled away some self-protective layer, a needed buffer between them. Socializing with him away from work would make guarding herself from getting too close to him even more difficult.
Going to the TV interview had been easier. The girls, the pets and Annie had acted as a buffer. But tonight she might find herself sitting beside Jake. Perhaps at a vulnerable moment. And she might say too much, more than an employee should say to a boss. And still she found herself curious. She wanted to ask him about this idea for bringing unwanted animals and disabled children together. However, he’d seemed upset with Annie for bringing it up. Maybe it was time to step back and let that be, too.
Today, Saturday, had been busier than usual at the clinic. Maybe Jake had forgotten about the girls’ invitation to the Winter Carnival. She hadn’t reminded him. Or even if he did remember, this wind might keep him home—dare she hope?
Nonetheless, each time the upstairs side door opened, letting in the cold wind, she couldn’t stop herself. She glanced over to see who’d just arrived. Still no Jake. However, all around her a cheerful group already crowded the church basement. Buffet tables near the kitchen enticed the hungry with sandwiches, chips and slices of cake for sale. Amy sat apart, a silent island amid the lively doings.
Different booths, manned by kids and parents, dotted the perimeter of the large bright room. Nearby was a Go Fish booth, where kids swung a children’s fishing pole over a half partition painted to look like the ocean filled with exotic fish. The kids “caught” little carnival prizes. Squeals, giggling and game noises filled Amy’s ears, lifted one corner of her serious mouth.
Then another rush of cold wind turned her head toward the stairway. Not Jake. That woman who’d brought in the poodle, “Poo,” to the clinic had entered. Now Amy realized she’d seen the woman here before and that’s why she’d seemed familiar. What was her name? Brooke. Brooke’s designer jeans and—perhaps cashmere—sweater clashed with the fleece, flannel and worn denim around her.
A hint of loneliness showed in how the woman looked around for someone to sit with. Amy experienced a twinge of sympathy for her. But please don’t make Jake uncomfortable—if he comes. As Amy watched Brooke be welcomed by a couple of women who waved her to sit down with them, her mind and conscience were relieved. Seeking fun in a small town, all kinds of people had ventured out into the harsh winter tonight.
Amy had been so busy watching Brooke, she’d missed the door opening again. Jake materialized at the bottom of the stairs. Behind him came Mike, and then Jake’s dad appeared right behind him—jostling her peace of mind. Amy tried not to let Dan’s comments at the Habitat house about her and her girls bubble up. But the hurt roiled up anyway. When will I learn not to react when people view me in a hurtful, negative way?
Rising, she purposefully turned her back to them and headed toward the kitchen to help out. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Jake. She didn’t want to give his dad any reason to issue any more warnings. I’ve decided to go it alone for my girls’ sake, all right? I haven’t set my cap for Jake. And what did it mean to set one’s cap, anyway? Silly phrase she didn’t even understand.
But Amy had underestimated her girls. They popped up before she reached the kitchen door. “Mom! Look! Dr. Jake’s here! He brought Bummer!”
Amy smiled, hoping to conceal her sensitivity about facing Dan. But he doesn’t think any different than most. Why does everybody always act like I’m out to stalk every eligible male?
Then she realized her girls were waiting for her to show some response to their announcement. She turned and waved. Jake and his dad were heading right for them. Oh, wonderful. Time for a quick getaway. “Hi, Jake,” she said over her shoulder, “be sure to sample the buffet.”
“I will.” Catching up to her, he grinned as if happy to see her. “I thought the girls said there would be hot dogs, but I smell something—”
“That’s the sloppy joes, Jake,” Ginnie chimed in from the nearby buffet table where she stirred the contents of one of many Crock-Pots. “We decided to have both. Hand us a few of your hard-earned bucks and get a hot meal! Get yourself a plate and fill it up!”
“Great. I’m really hungry.” Jake smiled at everyone in that charming boyish way of his that always tugged at Amy’s heart.
“I’m starving!” Mike rubbed his stomach, teasing the girls. “You didn’t eat all the good stuff already, did you?”
As Amy followed Ginnie toward the kitchen, she glimpsed Dan studying her. Giving him a brave “I’m a confident and independent woman” smile, she waved to him, too, and escaped into the kitchen. Ginnie asked her to refill the potato-chip bowls and set them out onto the food tables—quickly. The buffet line of the hungry had backed up.
When Amy carried out the filled potato-chip bowls, she met Jake as he, Dan and Mike went through the line.
“Hey there, good-looking!” Mike called out.
For a puzzled moment, Amy thought he’d addressed her. But then she realized he meant Ginnie, who blushed like a school-girl. Amy had heard that expression before, but this had to be the first time she’d ever witnessed it.
“Oh, you,” Ginnie said, “silly old tease.”
“That cuts me to the heart, Ginnie.” Mike placed a hand over the breast pocket of his plaid flannel shirt.
But Amy noticed he was grinning. How sweet.
“Good evening, Amy,” Dan said, sounding grave.
Amy looked into his eyes. She lifted her chin. I have nothing to hide my face about. “Good evening, Doctor. So glad you were able to come tonight.”
He made a gruff sound, something between amusement and irony. “No other game in town. I was getting cabin fever.”
She could understand and sympathize with him about that. She softened her voice. “This has been a rough winter.” Wind gusts still pounded the church from all sides. She’d become almost deaf to it. She hoped the power had remained on at her mobile home. It wouldn’t take much of this cold to freeze her pipes.
Rachel and Cassie crowded close to Dan’s elbows. “Hi. After you eat,” Rachel said, “you got to come and play some games, Dr. Dan.”
“Yeah,” Cassie agreed, “we’ll show you the good ones.”
“The good ones, huh?” Her girls managed to force a grin from him. “Okay.” He patted Rachel’s head as if she were a puppy and smiled hesitantly at Cassie.
The two girls followed him down the line, chattering away. Undaunted. The man’s smile for Cassie encouraged some hope in Amy. But would he say something rude to the girls? Surely not.
Jake paused in front of her, dipping his hand into the huge bowl for a generous serving of chips. “Your daughters have a way about them,” he murmured for her ears only. “Maybe my dad would have done better with daughters.”
Amy caught this last sentence and wondered what trouble needled Jake and his relationship with his dad. “I’m glad you came.” She hadn’t wanted to say the words, but they had refused to remain unsaid.
“Me, too. I like your church. It’s good to hear laughter, and everyone’s so friendly.”
At that unscripted moment, Jake and Amy turned and glimpsed Brooke approaching the buffet line. The woman pointedly did not make eye contact with them—an awkward moment.
Then the lights blinked out. A few women screamed. Babies cried out in fright.
Instinctively Amy reached for Jake. Their hands fumbled in the dark, found each other, and held.
“Everyone!” the pastor’s voice boomed over the sound of the wind. “Just a power outage! We have an ample supply of candles and lantern flashlights. Stay where you are while our ‘lights-out’ workers get them lit and distributed around. We don’t want anybody falling.” Lighter footsteps still pattered on the linoleum. “Kids!” he ordered. “Freeze!”
Then as if everyone held their breath, silence swathed the hall—except for the sounds of a few people moving into the kitchen, quiet voices, drawers opening, the scraping of matches.
Grippi
ng Jake’s hand, Amy stepped carefully around the end of the narrow buffet table till she bumped into his side. Standing so still in the pitch-black allowed her to experience him in a new way. He smelled of soap, and pleasantly of dog and horse. He moved his arm, cradling her at his side.
She let herself savor this moment. She recalled the feel of his chin against her lips when she’d kissed him that day they’d rescued the kittens. Tempted to turn and brush his cheek again with her lips, she pressed her lips together. Yet in the darkness, no one could disapprove. Don’t.
Then a few shadowed figures, carrying lighted pillar candles, filtered out of the kitchen. More and more points of light approached near and nearer, here and there. Finally each table boasted a lantern flashlight or a tall pillar candle or two. Glass hurricane chimneys enclosed each candle, holding the flames steady. Communal relief sighed through the gathering. Amy inhaled deeply and let go of Jake’s hand.
“The wind must have blown down some lines!” The pastor voiced loudly what they were all thinking. “It shouldn’t be long before they come back on. Now that we have our candles and flashlights, let’s get back to having fun. But—” he said with emphasis “—adults watch the children and the candles. The glass chimneys will keep the flames safe, but kids could knock them over inadvertently. We don’t want a fire.”
Most nodded, but a few said, “You bet! Will do!”
“Come sit with me, Amy,” Jake invited.
She knew she should say no.
But Ginnie overheard and pushed Amy from behind. “Go on. Keep the doctor company.”
Amy followed Jake to the open end of a table nearby. The people at the table greeted them but then went back to talking among themselves. “I was surprised to see your dad come tonight.” Then she realized that she shouldn’t have said this and added, “Sorry.”
“I was surprised to see him come. He always acts as if crossing a church threshold is somehow a betrayal of science. He’s different somehow this visit. He told me he’s thinking of retiring.”