Take a Chance

by D. Jackson Leigh

  Trip turned to Jamie, her expression questioning.

  Jamie couldn’t help but smile at Pete. “You bet, Pete. But I already bought peaches yesterday. And apples. Which would you like?”

  Pete screwed up his face. “Apples this time.” He nodded. “Yep. Apples.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “Is everything okay with Miss P?” Toby asked.

  “We flew up to Athens to consult with one of my former professors about Petunia’s stomach problems.”

  Pete stopped bouncing, but shifted from foot to foot, wringing his hands. “Is she sick? She can’t be sick. I fart, too, when I get a bellyache, but that means I ate too many beans.”

  Jamie wanted to wring her hands, too. She didn’t share Trip’s confidence that everything would be okay. Petunia undergoing surgery had made her very nervous. “Her problem is a little more complicated.”

  “But we’re fixing her up good as new.” Trip pointed to the porch of her residence on the other side of the main drive. “I believe you’re being summoned.”

  A tiny old black woman waved at them.

  “Pie. Is it time for pie?” Pete stopped his hand wringing and focused on the woman like a setter pointing out a covey of quail.

  “You better go.” Trip smiled. “She might be retired as my housekeeper, but she’s still boss of the manor.”

  “Indeed,” Toby said. “We argue every time over whether she should launder our clothes or let me take care of the task.” His smile was wry. “At least she conceded to let us make use of the stable facilities before we sit at her table.”

  Jamie realized for the first time what seemed different about them. Both were clean, hair trimmed and freshly shaven. Their clothes were clean and Toby’s were crisply pressed.

  “Y’all are welcome any time,” Trip said. “You know that. Whether it’s just for a shower and shave, or a night indoors.” She winked at Toby. “Essie looks forward to fussing over you two, and Essie gets what Essie wants.”

  “You are most kind.” Toby turned to Pete. “Come, Peter. We must not keep Miss Essie waiting.”

  Trip clapped her hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Go on. I’ll tell Jerome where you are.”

  Jamie watched them hurry toward the house, then signaled Petunia to heel and they followed Trip into the clinic. She waited quietly while Trip pressed her stethoscope to the dog’s chest and

  belly.

  “All sounds good,” Trip finally said. She slung the stethoscope around her neck and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Look, Petunia should be on IV fluids for at least the next twenty-four hours so we can dose her with antibiotics, and some pain meds without having to put anything in her stomach. My office has a private bathroom, a door that lets out to a private side yard for P’s restroom needs, and a pretty comfortable sofa bed. Brenda will close up the clinic in another hour, then Cindy and I will be out in the barn spaying and neutering cats. We have a surgery room out there for the ferals because we don’t want to bring them and whatever they might have been exposed to into the clinic around our other clients. So why don’t you and P stay here tonight. I’ll check her again after we finish the surgeries.”

  “Thanks, Trip. For everything.” She hesitated, then stepped into Trip’s hug when she held her arms out in invitation. Trip was solid and warm. Jamie rested her head on Trip’s shoulder. She was so tired of carrying it all on her own shoulders. College was a long time ago. Maybe she should let it go and give Trip a second chance. At least for now…until Petunia was well again.

  Jamie brushed her lips against Trip’s cheek, then immediately stepped back. Why had she done that? She cleared her throat. “So, you’re the one who pays Pete and Toby to catch the feral cats?”

  “Yep. I’ve tried to get them to work here full-time. There’s a small apartment in the stables that they use occasionally. Jerome could easily keep Pete busy, and I’ve tried for years to hire Toby to help Essie in the house. He used to be a butler up north until the lady he worked for died.”

  “They prefer to be homeless?”

  “They’re not really homeless, just restless. Pete has a hard time being indoors, and Toby won’t abandon him. Toby actually has an old truck that Clay keeps running so he and Pete can haul old tires to the dump for Cahill’s Garage. And when the weather’s bad, they stay in an old one-room cabin on the back of my grandfather’s property. It doesn’t have running water or electricity, though, so they come here to shower. Several women in town will launder their clothes in exchange for small chores.” Trip smiled. “I think Toby’s a little sweet on Essie. He’s always dropping by with wild blackberries he’s picked or pecans. Sometimes, he and Pete will snare a couple of rabbits for her to stew or bring a string of catfish for her to fry. She cooks for them, and they keep her up-to-date on gossip. They know everything that’s going on in town. Homeless people are invisible to most folks, so they’ll say anything in front of them. Other folks, well, they just figure two homeless guys won’t be taken seriously if they do repeat anything they hear.”

  “So they’re not actually homeless. It sounds like they have more work than they can handle and a roof over their heads when they want.”

  Trip shrugged. “Folks look at them and see two homeless men. They don’t bother finding out who they really are.”

  Shame washed over Jamie as she stared at the floor. She’d done the same thing. Trip had taken time to know them. Every new thing she was learning about Trip made Jamie wonder if she’d been the one who was in the wrong eighteen years ago. “I guess I can stop worrying about them then.”

  “Jamie,” Trip said softly.

  When Jamie raised her eyes, Trip’s gaze held hers.

  “They might not need food and shelter, but they can use real friends—people who know and understand them. Don’t stop being their friend.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  * * *

  Trip’s blue eyes were bright beacons in the dim light, staring up at Jamie. Suzanne’s blond head was moving down Trip’s long body, over ripped abs and between her legs, but Trip didn’t seem to notice. She reached up, her hands hot on Jamie’s neck, her strong arms drawing Jamie down, her soft lips caressing Jamie’s, a hot tongue questing and tasting. Then Suzanne was gone and Trip was hovering over Jamie. She whispered Jamie’s name as their breasts pressed together. Long fingers were sliding into Jamie, over Jamie’s taut clit, and finally inside. She straddled and slicked Jamie’s thigh with molten silk, thrusting in sync with Jamie’s hips. They fit and moved together as smoothly as on court, instinctively reading the other’s intent. They knew what the other wanted, what the other needed, as they moved toward the goal together. There, there, yes, now.

  Jamie jerked awake, panting through the aftershocks of the orgasm that grabbed at her belly. Holy crap. She had orgasmed from a dream? She reached between her legs and found herself soaked and still pulsing. She had never dreamed about that night. She’d thought about it plenty. But her conscious memory of what happened was different. Had Suzanne been right?

  “I wanted her to want me, but she only wanted you.” Suzanne pulled the drawer out and emptied the contents onto the growing pile of Jamie’s clothes and other belongings.

  “That’s crazy. I told you I didn’t want to do it, but you insisted. Trip has a line of girlfriends. She’s only my friend…was my friend. I love you.”

  “Are you that blind or just stupid?” Suzanne glared. “Maybe you are, but I’m not. She wants you. We’ve had fun, but we were never in love. Get your things and go back to your dorm. She can have you.”

  Jamie’s pillow was moving like someone was walking on it, so she opened one eye to catch the culprit. Petunia was pacing back and forth around her head. When she saw Jamie’s opened eye, she licked Jamie’s face and whined. Red digital numbers on Trip’s desk clock read four thirty. She swung her legs over the side, then jerked back. Trip was wrapped in a blanket, sleeping next to the sofa on an air mattress. How had she come in with that mattress
without waking Jamie and Petunia? She smiled at the sock dangling half off Trip’s foot, and her slightly parted lips with a small, dark drool spot on the pillow below them.

  Jamie wanted to laugh. Some things never change. When they’d roomed together in college, Trip seemed in a perpetual state of half dress. She might get into her sleep shirt, but fall asleep with her jeans still on…or get her jeans off and fall asleep in only her briefs with her sleep shirt in her hand. Jamie’s chest flushed and heat flared along her neck to warm her cheeks and ears. That memory was a little too vivid.

  Trip stirred, her long arms and muscular legs sprouting from the blanket and settling at such odd various angles that they draped over the edges of the single air mattress in every direction. Jamie’s hands itched to touch the bared skin, but as she stared, Trip’s figure turned into the broken body of a soldier whose arms and legs had been snapped and reshaped by a roadside bomb. The dangling sock became a dangling foot. The loose fist became a hand without fingers. Soft bare legs turned to red blistered skin exposed because the soldier’s camo pants had been burned away. The spot of drool was blood, dripping from the mouth and nose. Another lost soldier. Another of her patrol dead.

  Jamie wanted to cry. But the reality was that something, someone, had changed since they were coeds. Jamie had changed. She was too damaged to be a reliable friend, much less anything more serious, to anyone else. She scooted to the end of the sofa and swung her legs over to stand, then carefully lifted Petunia to the floor and unhooked her IV bag to make her mobile.

  “Okay, P. Let’s go for an early walk.” She definitely needed to clear her head.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “That was the last one,” Brenda said, flopping down on the old leather sofa in Trip’s office.

  “Excellent,” Trip said, digging in her file cabinet for a new pad of billing receipts. “I’m sending Cindy home since she was here very late neutering cats with me. Michelle will stay, but if Dani and I aren’t back at closing time, she can go on home. I’ll take care of the night medicines.”

  “That girl is a pain sometimes,” Brenda drawled out. “But she’s smart enough.”

  “She just needs to mature,” Trip said. “And I want to reassure her that I still have confidence in her technical skills after I had to slap her down for being unprofessional on Monday.”

  “You’re a good person, Dr. Beaumont.” Brenda got up, opened a door on Trip’s credenza, and handed her the pad of forms she’d been searching for.

  “Thank you, Brenda.”

  Dani appeared in the doorway. “Ready to go when you are.”

  “I’m ready. Have you seen Michelle?”

  “Essie called and said she had a blackberry cobbler right out of the oven, so Michelle walked over to get it,” Dani said.

  Trip shook her finger at Brenda. “Don’t y’all eat all my cobbler.”

  “Maybe I’ll call the Daughters of the Confederacy ladies to come over, and we’ll eat every last spoonful.”

  Trip narrowed her eyes for what she hoped was an intimidating glare. Brenda knew how much she hated the DAR and the fact that her mother was a member. “I’ll tell your husband that you’ve been stepping out with the new pharmacist.”

  Brenda hooted. “I could run off with the mayor and Howard wouldn’t even notice now that he’s taught the dog to get him a beer out of the fridge. My suitcase would probably be on the porch if he could get that fat old dog to walk all the way to the diner to fetch his supper.”

  Trip grinned. “You know that’s not true. Howard’s sun rises and sets with you.”

  “That’s just because I cook his breakfast and his supper.”

  “Maybe you’re right.”

  Brenda pointed her finger at Trip for emphasis. “I’m always right. I don’t know why you’re frettin’ anyway. You know Essie’s baked another cobbler just for you and a third one for Jerome’s family.”

  “What about me?” Dani asked.

  It was the back-and-forth they always had when Essie felt well enough to bake, and she was happy that Dani was jumping in. That meant she was feeling more at home. So maybe she could put a toe on that scale of happiness and tilt things a bit in Grace’s favor. “You can have half of mine, Dr. Wingate.” She flung an arm over Dani’s shoulders and made a show of stage whispering into Dani’s ear. “Essie always makes mine bigger than the rest.”

  Trip laughed when Brenda sputtered in search of a sarcastic reply and headed down the hall with Dani in tow. “Call us if anything walks in that Michelle can’t handle. And don’t fuss if Michelle’s a while getting back. Essie enjoys her company.”

  * * *

  Trip whistled as she headed down the road to their first client. She’d woken that morning in high spirits. Petunia’s tumor appeared almost certainly benign. They couldn’t be sure there wouldn’t be a recurrence, but she felt very positive about the outcome. And then there was Jamie. If Trip closed her eyes, she could still feel Jamie’s body pressed against hers, Jamie’s head resting on her shoulder. Trip’s belly tightened with the memory. Yep. The South Georgia summer was thawing the ice between her and Jamie.

  Clay had pretty much disappeared the way lesbians do when they dive into a serious relationship, and Trip’s prospects—given enough time—were looking up. And she didn’t want Grace to be left out. Her morning calendar had been cleared in case they were delayed getting back from Athens, so she had Brenda shuffle their afternoon appointments to morning or other days and pitched in to help Dani clear the pileup in the waiting room. This afternoon, Trip intended to show Dani that her practice wasn’t all horses, farm animals, dogs, and cats.

  Dani eyed her from the passenger seat. “You’re certainly in a great mood. Is that because of Petunia’s diagnosis?”

  “Some of it. But it’s also a beautiful summer day…too beautiful to be stuck inside the clinic.” Trip grinned at her. “And today is the day you get to see why I picked you over a dozen other capable applicants.” Trip turned off the highway onto a long drive with a black iron sign arched over the entrance that said Green Acres.

  A dozen bison populated the pasture on one side of the drive, and a mixed herd of miniature cows and horses on the other.

  “Is this a petting zoo or something?” Dani asked.

  “Tom and Betty King are the clients. They’re partnered with the Livestock Conservancy and raise old breeds of chickens, rabbits, and other livestock that are designated as heritage stock. The bison are just a fancy of Tom’s. The miniature horses and cows are Betty’s indulgence.” Trip drove past the log-style house and parked beside a large traditional red barn. That barn was flanked by four long barrack-style barns with signs that identified the residents of each—rabbits, chickens, cattle, horses.

  “This is a big operation,” Dani said, scanning the complex.

  “Yep. They operate traveling petting zoos for county fairs and some zoos. Right now, there’s also a brisk market for the heritage breeds. The free-range and organic farmers like the idea of raising the same chickens their great-great-grandparents did. And they supply zoos all over the country and beyond with some of the more exotic breeds. Today, we’re here to see a rabbit.”

  A woman in a dirty T-shirt, baggy khakis, and knee-high rubber boots emerged from the rabbit barn and was walking toward them. Trip waved and they both got out of the truck.

  “Hey, Trip.”

  “Hey, Betty. You and Tom doing okay?”

  “Doing fine.” The woman wiped her hand on her pants and held it out to Dani. “I’m Betty King.”

  Dani shook her hand. “Dani Wingate.”

  “Dani’s my new associate veterinarian,” Trip said. “I hired her because of her experience with exotic animals. She worked with a zoo up north.”

  “Well, we won’t hold being a Yankee against her if she knows her stuff.”

  “I appreciate that,” Trip said, smiling at Dani. “So, who’s our patient today?”

  “It’s Thumper. I’ve got him in the red barn.
You’ll need sutures. His ear is shredded.”

  “Big Wig get him?”

  “Yep. The youngster is near full grown now and made the mistake of challenging the old man over a doe. The North Carolina zoo wants him and a doe, so we’ll keep Thumper and his chosen doe separate from the others until Thumper’s healed and we can ship them out together.”

  The doors in front and back of the big red barn were open, and fans hummed over the pens. It was obviously set up for a petting zoo, but most of the pens were empty.

  “We figured this would be the best place for him to recover since school is out and we don’t have any groups scheduled for tours until August,” Betty said. She led them to a pen in the back corner where a Flemish Giant rabbit was sprawled on fresh straw and nibbling on a large carrot.

  “Wow. That’s a big boy,” Dani said, not hesitating to enter the pen. Giant rabbits were known for their gentle nature. She approached slowly, then ran a hand along Thumper’s luxurious pelt.

  Betty beamed. “Big Wig sires them large. He’s near four feet long. Thumper is three feet six inches and still growing.”

  “How about you handle this, Dani. Betty can give you a hand while I go say hello to Tom.”

  “He’s in the horse barn, waiting. He wants you to look at Ranger’s eye. It’s better but still a bit runny.”

  * * *

  They left the King farm and dropped in on a client whose pet potbellied pig had gotten into a squabble with the neighbor’s dog. Dani cleaned Annabelle’s puncture wounds, instructed Mrs. Ludwell how to care for the wounds, and prescribed a course of antibiotics.

  “I am so grateful, dear,” Mrs. Ludwell said, digging through her voluminous purse and counting out the two-hundred-twenty-seven-dollar fee painfully slowly. “Annabelle doesn’t usually take to strangers, but she likes you.” She placed the last dollar in Dani’s hand and patted her on the arm. “You wait just one more minute.”