“Where are your kids now?” Stephen asked. They clearly didn’t live with her. He would have noticed the signs during their shared meal.
“They both live in Nashville,” she said. “Mark works part-time as a sound engineer for some of the smaller groups that play there. It’s a crazy job, but he loves it. He wants to travel before he thinks about settling down, though. My daughter is in sales at a boutique hotel in Nashville and very much one of the young social set. She shows no sign of settling down, either.”
“Then we have something in common,” Stephen said. “My elder daughter, Elaine, worked in sales at The Peabody until she married. My younger daughter, Anne, works as a waitress and bartender to make enough money to support her horse. She’d love to make a full-time career as a horse trainer eventually...”
“But very few people can,” Barbara said. “My condolences. Horse-crazy daughters generally have fewer problems in adolescence, but speaking from experience, anything to do with horses is hard, expensive and time-consuming, and isolates you from the non-horse-crazy.”
When they came back from the short house tour, Barbara took one look at Emma and whispered, “She’s sound asleep. Time for us to go, Seth. Come on, Stephen.” Seth followed them out onto the front porch. Barbara stood on tiptoes and gave him a kiss. “I hope this new girl will work out for me. It’s time for Emma to cut her hours. And how about your hours?” she asked Seth. “Are you taking any more time off?”
“As much as I can, and I’m giving Earl most of the tough jobs that require traveling all over the county. Stephen, Earl’s my partner,” Seth explained. “We’re heading into black-powder season for deer hunting. That means more, rather than less, work. I’m like you, Barbara, pretty much on call all the time.”
Stephen waited on the porch while Seth helped Emma to move from the recliner to the bedroom, then walked across the street to his own little house. He’d considered inviting Barbara in for a final cup of coffee. But he assumed she’d decline.
He climbed into his truck and backed out of his driveway to follow her home. He’d never allowed a woman to reach her door unaccompanied in his life. His mother would have killed him.
He’d forgotten the motion-sensor lights. The moment he pulled his truck behind the clinic, the area was flooded with enough light to curtail a prison break.
An instant later, Barbara’s door flew open.
“Stephen, what on earth?” she said as he climbed out.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. May I say good night to Orville?” And maybe garner an invitation to come in for a cup of coffee?
Unlikely.
“Fine. Now that he’s in a cage in the barn, you don’t have to go into the clinic to visit him. Thank you, Stephen, for following me home. If you don’t mind, I’m off to bed.”
And she was.
He found Orville, who waked instantly and made a sleepy attempt at a squeal before tucking his head under his sound wing and subsiding back into sleep.
“Good night, big guy. May you dream of field mice scampering around just waiting to be gobbled up. I, on the other hand, will dream about being invited to Barbara’s for coffee one day.”
CHAPTER SIX
IT WASN’T TOO late for Stephen to call Anne at home in Memphis. Although she would love to get an apartment, her horse was a drain on her income, and Stephen had never charged her any rent. She had a separate apartment on the third floor. He’d been grateful to have someone in the big old place with him, someone to have breakfast with once in a while. Between horses and her two jobs, she had very little free time.
He only saw Elaine on the occasional Sunday. Now that he could no longer play golf, his Sunday afternoons were free. But Elaine’s visits were pity calls—always short and usually boring. He and Elaine had never had anything in common. Nina swore that Elaine had been born judgmental, and he was most often in her crosshairs. He liked Roger, her husband, who was a lawyer for several large Memphis-based corporations, but again, they had very little in common. Roger tended to pontificate about ideas that Stephen considered to the right of Nero and spent as many hours of his weekend as Elaine allowed him playing golf.
His own two had taught him that most adults had no respect for children. They might love them but refused to admit that sometimes children had a right to be irate when parents did things like get divorces. He often did not agree with Anne and Elaine, but he had always respected their opinions, even when he thought they were boneheaded.
Sometimes, however, it was difficult to respect Elaine’s ideas. He had tried to teach both girls that they could set forth any opinion, but they must be willing to back it up. Anne could always give him a backup for her opinions, even if Stephen thought they were ludicrous. Elaine, on the other hand, was of the because-I-said-so school.
When Anne picked up her cell phone, he could hear the noise of the bar she tended in the background. “Are you too busy to talk?” he asked.
“Daddy? I have time. It’s quiet right now.”
“If what I am hearing is quiet, I dread to think what a crowd sounds like.”
“Give me a second to get back to the office.” A moment later the ambient crowd noise went away. “There, the door’s shut. Are you sick of the country and itching to come home yet? Or, considering the bugs, just itching?”
“I’m barely settled in. I thought you’d be enjoying having the house to yourself. You are alone, aren’t you?”
“You think I’m having wild parties?”
“I hope not. My homeowner’s insurance doesn’t cover raves.”
“Well, I am not having any raves...or any dates, more’s the pity. You need to return your calls to all your lady friends. They keep leaving messages inviting you to everything from dinner to the theater.”
“Please do not tell them where I am or give them my new cell-phone number.”
“I can’t believe you changed your number when you got your new phone. Who does that? Members of a drug cartel?”
“I intend to keep the number when I go back into the classroom. In the meantime, a new number cuts down on nuisance calls. It’s the number the department will give out to students who are about to miss deadlines to turn in their essays and beg for more time.”
“Which you won’t give them.”
“Not for anything less than a meteor strike on all the computers in the world.”
“Isn’t there at least one of your recent dates you want me to give your number to?”
“Not so far.”
“Are the pickings so slim?”
“So it would seem. I have not met anyone that intrigues me more than reading a good book in my own library.”
“Boy, is that an indictment of the local ladies.”
He realized he’d inadvertently lied to Anne. If he had a choice between reading a book alone or being with Barbara doing nothing special, he was surprised that he’d choose her over the entire New York Times bestseller list.
She had brought a new energy to his life. With Orville’s help. “Anyway, one dinner date does not make a lady friend,” he said, “I haven’t had more than one date with anybody in three years. They’ve even slacked off on bringing over casseroles.”
“I know. Some of them I miss. The casseroles, I mean. Maybe you should be working on a cookbook—Casseroles to Seduce the Lonely Male.”
“I hate to say it, but that would probably sell better than Effects of the Great Plague on Property Values in Britain.”
“Is that what it’s going to be about?”
“Maybe. Probably. I haven’t come up with anything better, but I’m still waffling between that and the impact of rampant inflation in Germany after the First World War.”
“Daddy, anything would sell better than those. Boring. How is this great new tome actually coming? Have you even started it?”
“You remember
Emma Logan is my landlady?”
“Sure. In school I thought she was wonderful. She was even nice to us little kids.”
“She warned me when I moved in across the street from her that up here I would find a great many occupations more interesting than sitting at my desk borrowing inter-library research materials. She is being proved right. It has been an eventful couple of days.”
“What sort of eventful?” Anne asked. “You have a stampede or something?”
Stephen told her about hitting the eagle and his surgically assaulted Triumph. He told her about Barbara. Just the bare facts.
His daughter, however, picked up on something in his voice. “Is she beautiful?” Anne asked.
“That is not germane to the situation.”
“Sure it is. Beautiful, skilled, solvent. You interested?” Anne asked, wheedling.
“No, and even if I were, she is a widow and not interested in making any changes in her very comfortable single life.”
“Are you protesting too much?”
“No!”
“If you say so. And, Daddy, it’s about time the Triumph went to the sports-car graveyard.” She sounded delighted when she heard about the fancy truck. “Your truck will pull my horse trailer better than mine.”
“But it won’t get the chance. A father may give up his life for his child, but around here, he’ll think long and hard before lending his new crew cab to her.”
“We’ll see about that,” Anne said, laughing. “Good night, Dad. Try not to attack any more wildlife.”
“And you avoid raves.”
“Right.”
He plugged in his cell phone after he hung up and propped himself up in the comfortable king-size bed Emma provided in The Hovel.
He hadn’t mentioned anything about spending time with Barbara, except for when she’d saved Orville’s life. He definitely had not told her that he’d just spent the evening with her at Emma and Seth’s house.
Anne’s unwarranted assumptions would have been given more fuel.
Or were they unwarranted?
Anne would like Barbara. Barbara would probably like Anne. They had horses in common, if nothing else.
As he dropped off to sleep, he wondered what it would be like to cuddle up on Barbara’s sofa with her.
It was unlikely he’d ever get the chance, when he couldn’t even wangle an invitation for a cup of coffee. He had endured too many forgettable dates. Whatever she was, Barbara Carew was not forgettable. Not by him, at any rate.
* * *
STEPHEN SLEPT BETTER than he had in months. Sleep in the rehab center had been next to impossible. The nurses were always waking him in the middle of the night for meds or to take his blood pressure. Sometimes he thought they woke him up just to be irritating. With pain as his constant companion, he’d had trouble sleeping anyway. The rehab regime hadn’t helped. That was why he’d lost twenty pounds he had not needed to lose.
He slept until eight o’clock. Unheard of. He wanted to call Barbara but decided instead to start his walking program today. He would use her clinic as his turning point. He could say good morning to her and check on Orville at the same time.
The clinic was about two miles away. Could he possibly walk there and back? Four miles total? He’d walked conscientiously on the treadmill at rehab and later around the lake in the grounds. The path around that lake was supposed to be a little over a mile. At the end of his stay he could walk it twice if he pushed himself and soaked his leg afterward.
What if he collapsed on the way to the clinic or, more likely, on the way back? What if he did damage to his newly repaired leg? He needed a backup plan. He called Emma’s landline.
When she answered, he apologized for calling so early.
“We’ve already had breakfast. Seth’s left for work. What’s up?” Emma asked.
“Do you work at Barbara’s today?”
“Yep. I’m getting ready to go. We open at eight thirty, and I try to get there a few minutes early.”
“Could I ride to the clinic with you?”
“Something wrong with your fancy new truck?”
He really didn’t want to explain, but he felt he had to. “I can’t walk there and back, but I can walk one way. If I ride with you, I can make it back here on my own. Two miles is my limit these days.”
“How fast can you put on your walking clothes?”
“I’m ready now. I’ll breakfast when I get back.”
“Give me five minutes,” Emma said. “I’ll pick you up at the road.”
The morning was beautiful. For the first time, the breeze felt cooler. People from up north didn’t understand that for Southerners, fall didn’t signify the death of the year but its rebirth after the miserable heat and humidity of summer. The trees were finally turning. Leaves were touched with gold and red on their tips, while closer to the branches and trunks they were still green. Head-high goldenrod crowded the verges of the road, while late-day lilies punctuated the gold with lemon-yellow.
“Morning, Stephen,” Emma said as he climbed into the passenger seat of her SUV.
“And a glorious morning it is, too. Thank you for ferrying me down to the clinic.” Stephen gazed at the road and thought how pleasant it would be to walk home. Slowly.
Limp home, actually. And probably in pain. Not so pleasant, then. But it had to be done.
“Not like you took me out of my way.”
Emma pulled through the parking lot that was half-full of cars and pickup trucks, drove around to the back and parked where Stephen had parked when he’d brought in Orville.
As he climbed out of Emma’s SUV, he shrugged. “Probably silly to visit Orville like I’m visiting a sick student.”
“At least you didn’t bring him a potted plant,” Emma said.
“He would have preferred a nice live mouse. Orville doesn’t care that I’m here, but that doesn’t make a bit of difference. Thanks, Emma,” he said as he climbed out of the SUV. “Do you need any help getting out?”
“Nope. I can climb down once I get the seat back far enough. Come on into the office after you check on Orville.”
As he walked toward the eagle’s cage, he felt his daily worry until he saw the bird was still alive. He was invested in Orville’s flying again. Even if Stephen spent the rest of his life limping, he wanted to see Orville do what Stephen would never do again—soar! More than soar. He felt certain that Orville knew he was earthbound and hated it. Open the door of that cage and he’d stagger out and try to flap his poor, wounded wing. He’d keep trying, even if he never flew again.
So, what gave Stephen the right not to try to build a new life? For that matter, what gave Barbara the right not to try her wings, leave her comfort zone? They might both fall flat on their faces. So might Orville, but he’d keep trying.
“Orville, big guy, I refuse to say you have more gumption than we do. So how do we do this? We take it slow, take it easy, don’t push it, don’t hurt or scare ourselves until we’re strong enough to flap our wings and soar. It’s not just you any longer. It’s all three of us. You lead off. I don’t know how, exactly, but somehow we’ll follow.”
He found Emma inside the office getting ready for the clients.
“I have to start the coffee,” she said. “Then get the computer booted up and open the front door for the onslaught.”
“May I help?”
“Sure. Do you know how to make coffee? In an urn?”
“I am a dab hand at brewing the big pot in the faculty lounge.”
“Have at it.” Emma pointed to a thirty-cup urn on a table against the wall of the reception area. “Water’s over there. Coffee packets are under the table, so are the sugar and cream packets. Stirrers, napkins and cups are in that cabinet.” She pointed. “If you’d get that started and then open the front door, we’ll be good to go.”
>
“Where’s Barbara?” he asked. He’d been looking forward to seeing her, checking whether she continued to have the impact on him she’d had last night at dinner. He hoped there would be at least a bit of pleasure on her side when she saw him. He felt there was a connection growing between them.
“Her truck’s here, so she’s probably feeding the animals in the barn. You must have just missed her. You want to help? Check the cages in the back and make certain all the water dishes are filled for our in-house patients after you open the front door.” She took a deep breath.
“You think Barbara will be bothered that I’m showing up out of the blue like this and taking over?”
“You’re not taking over, you’re taking orders. We do not turn down volunteer help, Stephen. Barbara is as touchy about her professional parameters as anyone, but she doesn’t have time to resent help with the logistics. Oops, we’re two minutes late opening. We may get mauled. So, Stephen, go open up and stand back.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
ONLY SIX PEOPLE came in the front door when he opened it. He heard Emma give a sigh that was probably relief, not disappointment.
“Stephen? You here to visit our patient?” Barbara walked in the back door and came down the hall toward him.
His heart gave a jolt when he saw her. If anything, she had more of an impact on him now than she had last night. How could she work as hard as she did, yet arrive at the clinic on time, scrubbed and shining? She wore starched jeans and a crisp denim shirt. Those crazy dark rum eyes with their golden flecks drew him like a daiquiri on a beach in Aruba.
At eight thirty in the morning, he was not used to thinking about daiquiris or feeling drunk looking in anybody’s eyes.
And that smile of hers made him feel as warm as though he had slugged down a jigger of French brandy instead.
“Morning, Barbara. I think the coffee’s finished. May I bring you a cup?” he asked. He needed plenty of caffeine himself.
“Hey, the rule is, he fixes it, he fetches it,” Emma said. “Why don’t we hire him to be our new vet tech?”
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