If the Stick Turns Pink...

by Carla Cassidy

  “Sure,” she agreed. Actually she was relieved with the suggestion. With the coming of darkness outside and SueEllen’s departure, she was suddenly filled with a strange tension as she thought of the night to come, the first night she would sleep in Bailey’s bed.

  She went into the kitchen and grabbed Squirt, then returned to the living room where Bailey had turned on the television. He was already in his easy chair, remote in hand. She sank down on the sofa, Squirt in her lap.

  The puppy wiggled for a minute or two, then settled, lulled by the stroking of her hand against his soft fur. Melanie tried to focus on the movie, but her mind refused to cooperate. Instead she found herself wondering about the night to come.

  Would Bailey want to have sex again? Although she was eager to get pregnant, she wasn’t sure she was up for lovemaking that night. To tell the truth, she had a bit of discomfort from their lovemaking that morning.

  She’d never slept with a man in the same bed. She found herself wondering if Bailey snored. Was he a cover hog? Did he like to cuddle? By the time the movie was over, she was more nervous than she could remember being in a very long time.

  It was ridiculous, she told herself, to be so nervous about sharing a bed with Bailey. They’d already made love, so there were certainly no more secrets between them. So, why was she nervous?

  Bailey seemed utterly at ease, laughing at the appropriate places in the comedy he’d chosen to play. As she listened to his laughter, her nervous tension began to ebb.

  She’d always loved the sound of his laughter, rich and robust, it had been the first thing she’d noticed about him when they’d both been seven years old. Even then his laughter had made her smile.

  “You ready to call it a day?” he asked when the movie was over.

  “Sure,” she said, and rose from her chair. She took Squirt out through the screened-in porch off the kitchen and set him in the grass to do his business. When he was finished, she made sure the potty pads were clean on the porch. Squirt didn’t quite have a handle on the notion of potty training.

  By the time she’d settled Squirt down and returned to the living room, Bailey had already turned off the television and disappeared into the bedroom. Again a bit of nervousness knocked around in her stomach.

  When she entered the bedroom, Bailey was already in bed. “You don’t eat crackers in bed or talk in your sleep or anything else weird, do you?” he asked.

  She laughed. “I was just wondering the same kinds of things about you.”

  “No strange sleeping habits here,” he replied. He turned off his bedside lamp, leaving the lamp on her side of the bed to cast a soft, golden glow in the room.

  Melanie, remembering that her sleeping attire was in the spare room, raced across the hall, grabbed her things, then returned to the master bedroom.

  “Bailey,” she began hesitantly from the adjoining bathroom door. “Are we going to…”

  “Not tonight,” he replied quickly. “I know you’re eager to get pregnant, but it probably wouldn’t be that comfortable for you tonight.” His gaze didn’t quite meet hers.

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “I’ll be ready for bed in just a few minutes.” She disappeared into the privacy of the bathroom.

  She decided on a quick shower, then dressed in her silk camisole and tap pants. She captured her unruly hair into a neat braid, then grabbed a bottle of her favorite lotion and returned to the bedroom.

  Bailey appeared to be already asleep, stretched out on his stomach with his face turned away from her side of the bed.

  She eased down to the bed and propped her pillow up behind her so she was half sitting, then opened her lotion and began to apply it on her arms.

  The sweet scent of wildflowers filled the room, and she’d just begun to apply the lotion on her legs when Bailey rolled over and looked at her.

  She thought his eyes flared wide for just a moment. “What are you doing?”

  “Every night before I go to bed I put lotion on so my skin will be soft.”

  “Your skin is plenty soft enough,” he said, and Melanie thought he sounded irritated.

  “Am I bothering you?” She closed the lid on the lotion and set it on the nightstand. “I’m sorry.”

  “You aren’t bothering me, I was just wondering what you were doing.” His eyes appeared darker than usual. “Do you always wear that to bed?”

  Melanie stared at him for a moment. He was looking at her as if she were some sort of strange alien. “And what’s wrong with what I wear to bed?” she demanded.

  “Nothing,” he said hurriedly, a slight flush sweeping over his face. “I just assumed you were a T-shirt kind of sleeper.”

  “Then I guess you assumed wrong,” she replied. She turned off her lamp, plunging the room into a profound darkness. “It’s one of my deep, dark secrets, Bailey,” she said softly.

  “What is?”

  “That I’m more of a silk and satin woman than people think I am. What about you? Do you have any deep, dark secrets that you hide from everyone?”

  “Yeah, mine is that I don’t like chitchat when I’m trying to go to sleep.”

  “Well, excuse me,” Melanie exclaimed, and tried to ignore the swift pain his words created. “I guess your other deep, dark secret is that you’re a jerk right before you go to sleep.” She yanked the covers up over her and turned her back to him.

  She had no idea what had riled him, but if this was the way he acted at bedtime, she was more than grateful this whole marriage thing was just a temporary arrangement.

  Chapter Eight

  Bailey awoke with the tantalizing fragrance of flowers filling his senses. Warm curves filled his arms and something tickled at his nose.

  He opened his eyes to find the room in whisper-soft shades of dawn. Mellie’s back was to him, her body spoon fashion against his. Tendrils of her hair had escaped the confining braid while she slept and that’s what tickled his face.

  One of his arms was thrown over her, as if to capture her and keep her tight against him. He didn’t remember reaching for her in the night, but it was obvious he had.

  He thought about moving, but she was sleeping so peacefully he hated to take the chance of disrupting her sleep. Instead, he closed his eyes and thought about those moments just before she’d turned out her light.

  When he’d smelled the scent of her lotion and turned around to see what she was doing, the sight of her in the sexy, beige silk nightclothes had shocked him.

  Mellie had always been a T-shirt and jeans kind of woman. When she wore dresses, they were usually rather shapeless and distinctly unsexy. But she liked silk and satin, and that added a whole new dimension to the woman who had been his best friend for most of his life.

  And that’s what had made him cranky the night before. He’d felt as if a stranger had crawled into his bed, and he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.

  With the body-warmed silk of her minuscule nightclothes smooth against his skin and the scent of her stirring in his head, he felt his body responding, and that’s when he decided to get out of the bed.

  As gently as possible he lifted his arm from around her and slid out from beneath the covers. She didn’t move when he got out of the bed and went into the bathroom.

  Moments later as he stood beneath a hot shower he thought again of his first glimpse of Mellie in her silk. For a brief moment, white-hot desire had roared through him. That had been what had thrown him for a loop.

  He wasn’t supposed to want Mellie, that hadn’t been part of their deal. He had to make love to her in order to fulfill his part of their bargain, but desire wasn’t supposed to enter into the agreement.

  By the time he got out of the shower, he had chalked his momentary desire for Mellie up to an anomaly, a weird chemical reaction that wasn’t likely to happen again, except of course for the appropriate reason of procreation.

  She was still asleep after he’d showered and dressed. He left the bedroom quietly and slipped into the kit
chen to make the coffee.

  As the coffee brewed, Bailey moved to stand in front of the window that faced the back of his property. This was his favorite time of the day, when dawn chased the night shadows off his property and gave everything—the green grass, the cherry and apple trees, even the old shed in the distance, a luster of gold.

  He’d mortgaged his soul for this house and the hundred acres of property that went with it. It had been the biggest gamble of his life, a gamble that had paid off. As the only vet in the town of Foxrun, business was booming.

  He was sitting at the table and working on his second cup of coffee when Mellie came into the kitchen. Her hair was in a neat braid and she was clad in worn jeans and a green T-shirt that perfectly matched the color of her eyes.

  “Good morning, Mr. Grouchy,” she said as she headed across the kitchen for the coffee.

  “I was a bit cranky last night, wasn’t I?” he agreed. “Sorry about that. I guess you can chalk it up to overtiredness and the last of my hangover.”

  “And I accept your apology.” She joined him at the table with a cup of coffee. “After I help you with the pups, I’m going to head into town. I need to buy those thank-you notes and get started on them and I also need to pick up some groceries. Those questionable casseroles look interesting, but they’ve been in the fridge long enough that they need to be thrown out.”

  “I’ll buy the groceries.” He grinned at her. “It’s what a husband does. If you go to Quigley’s you can just charge it to my account.”

  She nodded and sipped at her coffee.

  “Did you sleep well?” He wondered if she knew how their bodies had found each other in the night.

  “Like a dead person. I don’t think I moved all night long.”

  She had moved all right…right into his arms, right against his body. But if she didn’t remember it, he certainly wasn’t going to tell her about it. He finished his coffee and stood.

  “I guess I’ll head on out to the barn and get a jump on the day.” He rinsed his cup and put it into the dishwasher, then leaned down and scratched Squirt behind his ears.

  “I’ll just make up the bed and clean up Squirt’s potty pads on the back porch, then be out to help you.”

  “Take your time,” he replied, then headed out the door.

  The sun was already warm overhead, and as he entered the barn he was greeted with excited yipping and meowing from the various residents.

  He booted up the computer and brought up his daily schedule and records for all the animals he was currently treating. He had two morning appointments, a yearly exam and shots for a malamute named Blue, and a follow-up visit with a little Pomeranian named Gizmo, who’d suffered a broken leg four weeks before. Later that afternoon he had a calf to check. In the meantime there were puppies and cats to feed and examine.

  He’d examined four puppies by the time Mellie joined him. He put her to work feeding the critters, then went back to his examinations.

  As they worked, they fell into a lively discussion about local politics. Bailey had always found Mellie’s spirited opinions stimulating, and they’d always been able to argue good-naturedly and without any rancor.

  They had just finished with the exams and feeding of the dogs, and he was in the middle of detailing why the town needed a new mayor when the crunch of gravel in the driveway signaled the arrival of a car.

  “That must be Max with Blue,” he said. He washed his hands at the sink, then went to the door, Mellie just behind him.

  Bailey frowned as he saw the unfamiliar car in the drive. As they watched, a young boy climbed out of the passenger seat, a shoebox in his hand.

  “That’s Jimmy Sinclair,” Mellie said. “He was in my class this year.”

  “I’ve never treated any of their animals. Wonder what he’s doing here?”

  Together he and Mellie walked out of the barn and met Jimmy as he approached them. “Hi, Jimmy,” Mellie greeted the youngster.

  “Hi, Miss Watters—I mean, Mrs. Jenkins,” the boy corrected himself. “My mom brung me out here ’cause Whiskers died and she said Dr. Jenkins knows what to do.”

  Bailey smiled at Jimmy and knelt down on one knee. “Is Whiskers in the shoebox?” he asked gently.

  Jimmy nodded, his brown eyes sparkling far too brightly, and gripped the shoebox more tightly against his chest.

  “Could I take a look at Whiskers?” Bailey asked.

  Jimmy hesitated just a moment, then nodded and held the box out to Bailey. Bailey slid the top off and peered inside. Sure enough, there was one dead golden hamster on top of a bedding of tissue.

  Bailey knew how devastating the loss of a pet could be, and it didn’t matter if that pet was a dog, a cat, a hamster or a goldfish. He’d created a place to bury beloved pets to help people put some closure to their grief.

  He placed the lid back on the box then handed it to Jimmy. “I’ve got a special place to take Whiskers. While I get a shovel, you might tell your mom we’re going for a little walk and will be back in a few minutes.”

  As Jimmy ran to tell his mother, Bailey went into the barn and grabbed a shovel. A moment later Jimmy, Bailey and Mellie set off walking down the lane.

  Bailey placed his free hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as they walked. “How long did you have Whiskers?”

  “Since I was six. I’m almost eight now,” Jimmy replied. “He was fine last night when I went to bed. He was running on his wheel. He did that sometimes at night. Then when I got up this morning, I went over to his cage to tell him good morning and he was dead.”

  Bailey squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. He was a cute kid, with a thatch of straw-colored hair and big, expressive brown eyes. “You know, Jimmy, hamsters don’t live very long. I imagine Whiskers just died of old age.”

  “Really?” Jimmy looked up at him with trusting eyes. “I thought maybe I did something wrong, but I couldn’t think of anything I done wrong.”

  “Did wrong,” Mellie corrected the boy automatically.

  “No,” Bailey replied. “You know, Jimmy, I know about these things, and Whiskers definitely looked like he died from old age.”

  Jimmy sighed in obvious relief, and Mellie smiled at Bailey over Jimmy’s head. It was a soft smile and Bailey tried not to notice how the sunshine stroked brilliant fires into her red hair, making it look achingly touchable.

  They walked past the blackberry bushes and the pond and through a pasture where two cows ignored their presence.

  At the back of the pasture was a small grove of trees and a large plot of ground, all encircled by a white picket fence. Bailey opened the fence and escorted Jimmy and Mellie into the peaceful, shady area.

  “This is the place where we say goodbye to pets who have died,” Bailey said. “Is there a special place you’d like me to put Whiskers?”

  Jimmy looked around the area, where here and there were wooden markers noting the resting places of other beloved pets.

  “How about there?” He pointed to a spot beneath one of the trees.

  Bailey squeezed his shoulder once again. “That looks like a great place for a hamster,” he agreed. “Was Whiskers a good hamster?” Bailey asked as he began to dig.

  Jimmy shrugged. “Sure, he was good.” He hesitated a moment then added, “’Cept sometimes he would bite me kind of hard. Then once I got him out of his cage and let him sit on my bed, only he ran away and I couldn’t find him for a day and my mom was really, really mad.”

  Bailey hid his smile as he set the shovel aside. “Hamsters sometimes like to explore,” he replied. “And that usually makes moms mad.”

  “Boy, are you telling me,” Jimmy quipped with a pained expression.

  Bailey gently took the box from the boy, noting that Mellie placed a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as if in support. “We’ll just wrap him in the tissue paper and throw the box away, okay?”

  Jimmy nodded solemnly and watched as Bailey placed the little critter into the hole he had dug. “You know, Jimmy. This isn’t the l
ast time you’ll see Whiskers,” Bailey said. “When you go to Heaven, Whiskers will be there waiting for you.”

  “Will he still sometimes bite my finger too hard?”

  Bailey smiled and shook his head. “Oh, no. In Heaven pets never bite. Now, would you like to say a few words of goodbye to Whiskers?”

  Jimmy nodded and solemnly moved closer to the small grave. “Goodbye, Whiskers. You were mostly a good hamster and I’ll see you in Heaven.”

  For a moment Bailey thought Jimmy might cry, but although his eyes were once again overly shiny, he looked up at Bailey and nodded. Just as solemnly, Bailey shoveled dirt into the grave.

  As they walked back toward the house, Bailey promised he would make a marker for Whiskers and that Jimmy was welcome to come and visit any time.

  Mellie spent a few minutes discussing the next school year with the boy, then they both said hello to his mother and minutes later watched as Jimmy and his mom drove away.

  Bailey started to turn back toward the barn, but sensed Mellie’s gaze on him. “What?” he asked.

  She shrugged her slender shoulders and sighed. “I was just thinking that it’s a shame you don’t want children, because you would be an awesome daddy.” She didn’t wait for his reply but turned and headed toward the house.

  A week and a half. She had been married for a whole week and a half. Melanie turned the faucet to add more hot water to her bath and sank lower in the scented water.

  Bailey was outside finishing up chores and when he came in and cleaned up they were going into town for supper. It would be their first meal out since they’d gotten married.

  But it wasn’t the outing that weighed heavily on her mind. That day she’d received in the mail her contract from the school. All it needed was her signature and she would once again be teaching second grade in the fall.

  The problem was, she wasn’t sure if she should sign it or not. If she immediately became pregnant with Bailey’s baby then she would deliver in March and have two full months of school left. She didn’t want to have a baby and have to return to work.