Jamie’s gone, Trip. She left because of you. I told her that you seduced me, then dumped me. You were supposed to be her best friend, but you went after me anyway. She was never going to be yours. You are way too butch for her. She likes femmes. Even if you two got together, all I’d have to do is crook my finger and she’d come running back to me.
“No. I don’t believe it. Jamie knows not to believe Suzanne’s lies anymore. There’s a good reason she’s not back yet.”
Maybe saying it a hundred more times would help her believe it.
* * *
Twenty-four poles, thirty-five cars, ten exits, fourteen light poles, seven houses, two dogs, twenty-six fence posts, four horses, six porch supports.
The sharp rapping startled Jamie. When had the sun come up? She was in her truck, sitting in front of Trip’s clinic. She didn’t dare close her eyes. When she did, she saw Adder hanging from that tree. She saw raw meat on desert sand but couldn’t tell what part was her leg and what was her flayed canine. She even saw Suzanne touching Trip, smiling at Jamie while she brought Trip to orgasm. Then she began to count. She didn’t know how long she counted, but it was dark when she started.
She flinched when a second round of rapping jerked her into the present.
“Are you all right, hon?” Brenda looked worried. “Aren’t you coming inside?”
Jamie opened her door and climbed out. She was stiff, but numbly followed Brenda into the clinic.
“Do you want some coffee?”
“Bathroom.” Her throat was sore and her eyes felt gritty.
“Down the hall.”
Jamie felt more alert after washing her face and hands with cold soapy water, but still bone-tired and resigned. She’d been so wrapped up in the excitement of this new, more exciting relationship with Trip that she’d forgotten that she was damaged. Or maybe she’d unconsciously blocked it out. The support group she’d been forced to attend before her discharge was filled with guys facing divorce because their wives couldn’t deal with their mental issues. Last night was a rude notice that her new happiness hadn’t magically cured the flashbacks, and Trip deserved to know. She trudged out down the hall to the reception desk. “Thanks, Brenda. I guess I’ll go over to the house and see if Trip is there.”
Brenda gave her an odd look. “She’s right here, sacked out in her office.” Something changed in her eyes. “Oh, honey, didn’t she ever reach you last night? I know she called and called.”
Trip’s messages—had she listened to them? Had she returned Trip’s calls last night? All she could remember was pulling back onto the dark highway. Then the flashbacks started.
“She had to operate on Petunia,” Brenda said. “She’s been up almost all night.”
Jamie stopped breathing. One, two, three pictures on the wall, one bench, five chairs, one flower pot, one coffee maker. “Petunia.”
“She’s going to be fine.”
Jamie whirled. Trip looked as tired as she sounded. Jamie could feel her mouth working, but no words were coming out. When Trip gestured to the doorway where she stood, Jamie wasn’t sure her wobbly legs would hold up. But they did, and then she was standing in Trip’s office by a large dog crate where Petunia was resting on a soft blanket. There seemed to be tubes everywhere. Jamie wanted to cradle Petunia in her lap, stroke her rough fur and tell her it would all be okay. Instead, she poked a tentative finger through the wire cage to touch Petunia’s furry paw.
Trip opened the crate’s door. “She’s still pretty groggy, but you can pet her.”
Jamie reached in and stroked Petunia’s head. “Hey, P. I’m here now. You sleep as long as you need. I want you to get all better. I’ll be here when you wake up, so don’t worry about anything. You’re not alone. I’m not leaving you. This is a good place, not a bad research lab.” Her throat closed around the last words, but she added a final loving stroke before withdrawing.
“A second tumor had developed, just like the last one. That’s why she stopped eating and was getting sick again. Dani and I had to remove it last night when her stomach got backed up and started swelling. This time, we opened up the abdomen and did a thorough search for any other suspicious cells that could grow another tumor as fast as that one. She appears clear, so I would say her prognosis is very positive.”
Something in Jamie snapped and she began to cry. She was so tired and so, so broken. Maybe Petunia was broken, too, and would never be free of the tumors. She sank to her knees, her face in her hands.
Then strong arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, holding her up. It seemed like forever before she could gather herself enough to talk.
“We need to talk.”
Trip didn’t answer at first, but dropped her arms, stood and moved away. “You took the job and you’re leaving.” Her voice was flat.
“No, no, no.” She shook her head as she rose and turned. “Why would you think that? We talked about it before I went to the appointment.”
Trip stared at the floor. “Did you know you would be meeting Suzanne?”
“Is that what you think?”
“No.” Trip rubbed at her face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I was trying to pass the time and was shopping for playground equipment, then decided to look up this foundation. I saw her name. Southeast director. When you didn’t answer your phone and it got later and later—” Trip shrugged. “I imagined all kinds of things…like she offered you a dream job…like maybe you decided you were still in love with her after you saw her.”
“She did offer me a dream job and herself as a perk, but I told her to go fuck herself.”
Trip’s eyes were pleading. “Then where were you all night, Jamie? I’ve been crazy with worry.”
Jamie’s throat tightened as the desert invaded the edges of her vision. Five short bottles, two tall bottles, three glass canisters, six cabinet doors. “I was counting. Driving and counting.”
Wordlessly, Trip sat at the end of the sofa and tugged Jamie down to sit between her legs so Jamie could see the rest of the office and things to count. Jamie began to shake so hard her teeth chattered. Trip’s arms squeezed her like a vice. “When you’re able, tell me about it.”
“Puh-P-tuh-T-S-da-D,” Jamie stammered out. “Four letters. Sta-stamped uh-eight times on my medical discharge.” Two stacks of paper. One file cabinet, four drawers. Eight pencils in one cup.
It took the better part of an hour and half a box of tissues, but Jamie managed to explain about Adder, and how his death triggered the worst episode of PTSD she’d experienced since rehab. When she finished the story, she was no longer counting, her stutter subsided, and they were both fighting sleep. Trip slid down and Jamie rolled over to cuddle against her side. Still, Jamie wasn’t done.
“Two words. I heard them. It should have been three.”
Trip blinked. “Is that a riddle?”
Jamie rose up on her elbow. “You said, ‘Love you.’ I heard it on the phone.”
“Ah. I’ll give you more than three.” Trip’s gaze grew soft. “I love you, Jamie Grant. I have loved you since our first year together in college.”
Even though Jamie was confident Trip would say the words she longed to hear, even though the past days together had erased her doubts about Trip’s desire for her, the unguarded trust in Trip’s eyes was new and daunting.
Jamie was the one mired in the mud now by the weight of this moment. She didn’t doubt her attraction, her affection for Trip. Was she worthy of Trip’s trust? Her willingness to accept Suzanne’s lies about Trip had been the real problem between them. And she wasn’t stupid enough to believe Trip’s insecurities wouldn’t resurface occasionally, just like her PTSD. Was she strong enough, whole enough, to accept Trip’s love? Petunia had still another chance. Was it possible that she could, too?
Jamie scanned the shelf next to Trip. One stack of eight magazines, five books.
“Come on, Jamie,” Trip said softly. “Let’s erase the past and start clean. I want to count you as one…my only on
e.”
Jamie stopped counting and looked down into eyes as blue as a cloudless summer sky, then took the biggest chance of her life. No. This wasn’t chance. It was sure, solid ground.
“One. You’re my one. I love you, Trip Beaumont.”
Epilogue
Jamie slowed and peered at the porch of Old Lady Jackson’s house. Unable to resist, she turned into Jackson’s drive, climbed out of her truck, and helped Petunia down in time to enjoy the final verse of the national anthem.
“Well, if that doesn’t put you in the mood for the Fourth of July weekend, I don’t know what will,” Jamie said, eyeing Clarice’s bright red stretch pants and blue pullover with huge white stars. She looked ready to run up a flagpole.
Jackson and Clarice grinned happily from their rocking chairs…and from behind extra dark sunglasses. It was a sure bet she’d find very dilated pupils behind those glasses.
“We’re just taking a break from our baking and the day is so pretty, we just burst into song,” Clarice said.
“I’m happy you two are getting along so well.”
Clarice waved a dismissive hand. “It was a big misunderstanding. She brought over some of her special brownies the very next day.”
Jackson nodded. “And she baked lemon bars for me the day after that. I love lemon bars.”
Clarice stopped rocking, sat forward in her chair, and stage whispered. “I volunteered and ATM got me in the program. We’re baking enough brownies to fill the freezer in my bomb shelter out back of the house.”
Jamie figured it would take a while to fill the freezer because they appeared to be eating most of what they baked. “ATM?”…the girls said it stood for All That and More.
Clarice nodded. “Agnes Teresa Marie. That’s her name, but when we were buying brownie mix at the Piggly Wiggly, I heard one of her friends call her ATM. Jackson said I could call her that, too.” Clarice beamed and Jackson grinned, but not for the same reason.
Petunia stared at the plate of brownies resting on the porch railing.
“I think she wants a brownie,” Clarice said, reaching for the plate.
Jackson stopped her. “Uh, no. She has a sensitive stomach.” She wrinkled her nose. “Gets gas really bad.” She grinned at Jamie. They both knew why Petunia was staring at the brownies.
Jamie cleared her throat. “Well, her stomach problem has been fixed, but the chocolate isn’t good for dogs.”
Clarice grabbed on to Jackson’s arm. “Oh, no. Are they bad for pigs, too? Mrs. Ludwell came by on her daily walk and Annabelle ate three brownies.”
Jamie chuckled. “I’m not sure, but I think a pig would have to eat a whole lot of brownies for the chocolate to make them sick. But I’ll ask Dr. Beaumont just to be sure. She’s volunteering at the Boys and Girls Club today, and I’m headed over there, too.”
“Annabelle has such a pretty pink harness.” Clarice wasn’t listening because her “special brownie” buzz was still focused on her memory of the pig.
Jackson slid her dark glasses down her nose and squinted. “I heard you and the doctor are bumping boots now.”
Heat crawled up Jamie’s neck, but she wasn’t going to deny it. She was still a private person, but this was her home now and she wouldn’t hide her relationship with Trip, or ask that of Trip. “We loaded up my U-Haul last weekend and emptied it out at her place.”
“Well, congratulations.” Jackson laughed at Jamie’s use of lesbian code and sat back in her rocking chair. “You might want to watch your back for a while, though. There’s going to be a lot of unhappy women around Pine Cone now that you’ve taken Fast Break off the market.”
Jamie replied with a mock salute and a signal for Petunia to heel. “Y’all have a good day now.”
Clarice’s wavering soprano started up the first verse of “America the Beautiful” as Jamie backed her truck into the street, and ATM Jackson’s smooth alto joined in as she pulled away.
* * *
Trip held the leveling tool against the metal post that would support one side of the arched bronze sign announcing MISS M’S PLAYGROUND.
“That’s good. Shovel in the concrete,” she told Jubal.
“I can’t believe you got all this done so quick,” he said, carefully spading wet cement around the base of the pole while Trip continued to check it.
“I had a lot of help from people you wouldn’t imagine. How’s that pup doing?”
Jubal smiled. “Bruiser’s chill. He’s already graduated from puppy class, and Jamie is teaching us hand signals now. Bruiser’s really smart. He’s just a pup, but he figured out right off to be careful around Mama.”
“That’s great, Jubal. You’ve done a good job with him.” She tamped down the last of the concrete. “I guess that does it. These posts will need a few days for the concrete to set before the men come out to install the sign. Looks like they need some help with the playground equipment over there. I’ll wash out the wheelbarrow for you.”
Trip paused and watched Jubal join the group that was unloading bulky playground equipment parts from a flatbed trailer Jerome had conscripted from the farm. Amani stood in the middle of the organized chaos, holding a master plan for the playground and pointing to where each part should be left for assembly.
An arm slid around her waist, and Trip smiled when a wheat-colored blur streaked past on a direct path to where Essie sat on a newly installed park bench, handing out cups of flavored water and snacks.
“Everything going okay here?” Jamie asked.
“Perfect. We’ve got so many volunteers, they’d be falling over each other if Amani wasn’t such a great organizer.”
The lot was filled with Jubal’s gang, a few men and women from the police and fire departments, Toby and Pete, Edmundo and a few cousins, and several men from both the Baptist and Methodist churches. Trip and Jamie had intentionally arranged a diverse group, and Jamie had prepared the kids at the Boys and Girls Club with a talk about seeing people as individuals rather than making assumptions from their clothing or hairstyle or skin color. And about ways to get people to see them as individuals, not just as minority kids from a poor neighborhood.
“So, are you helping or just watching other people work?”
“Oh, crap. I need to wash the cement out of this wheelbarrow before it hardens. Can you grab that shovel and bring it?”
Jamie followed Trip across the street to an outdoor spigot and hose behind the Boys and Girls Club building. Trip set the wheelbarrow down and took the shovel from Jamie’s hands.
“First things first.” She tugged Jamie into her arms and kissed her. “I missed you.”
“You just saw me a few hours ago,” Jamie said. Still, she punctuated that statement with another kiss, this time lingering with a bit of tongue that made Trip’s belly tighten…in a good way.
“How’d your meeting go with the contractor?” Trip was very excited about the new business Jamie would be starting soon.
“We agreed on a schedule. He’s had another project delayed by some new city regulations, so his crew can get started as soon as he gets the building permit from the county. He estimates six weeks to two months, maybe less if the weather holds up and there are no surprises when they run the water and electrical lines out from the road.”
An apologetic phone call from the director above Suzanne—now unemployed Suzanne—was indeed the consulting offer of Jamie’s dreams. It didn’t take much to persuade Jamie to ask Amani’s advice on starting a business, but convincing Jamie to let Trip help finance the start-up took a lot more convincing. Trip knew Jamie wanted to rescue shelter dogs by turning them into valuable working dogs, but she also wanted to explore the use of therapy dogs for soldiers dealing with PTSD. The Strange Foundation was only offering seed money for the detection dog training program, so the PTSD program was the ace Trip played to deal herself in.
Grace was trying to be a good sport about losing Jamie, but was happy after Jamie promised to continue with the department until she could t
rain a replacement. Turned out, Jamie already had her eye on Anderson. The rookie couldn’t seem to remember to put his squad car in park, but had a way with dogs.
“That’s great news.” Trip tightened her arms around Jamie and sighed. “You’re going to be really busy for the rest of the summer, juggling your deputy job and getting your new business off the ground.”
“Probably as busy as you’re going to be until you find another veterinarian to hire.”
Trip nodded. “Let’s make a pact now that we’ll never be too busy with our own stuff that we neglect the kids down here.”
“Deal, and I’m sorry I’m late today.” Jamie stepped out of Trip’s embrace to turn on the water. “I thought I was having some kind of strange flashback, and I had to stop for a few minutes.”
Trip tilted the wheelbarrow and studied Jamie while she hosed it off. “You okay, babe?”
“No. I might have to wash my eyes out.”
Trip relaxed at Jamie’s teasing tone. “Why?”
“When I drove past Old Lady Jackson’s house—”
“Only Grace calls her that. She’s not that old.”
“I know, but you’re interrupting.”
“Sorry. I’m working on that.”
Jamie smiled and shared everything—the songs, the special brownies, the dark glasses, and the new friendship. By the time she’d finished, Trip was bent over and clutching her sides.
“Stop, stop. My stomach is going to be sore tomorrow from laughing. We have to go past there on the way home to see if they’re still there.”
“Only if you promise not to eat any food they offer you.” Jamie’s grin faded, and her expression turned serious. “Trip? Is it okay for pigs to eat brownies?”
Trip’s throat constricted around the first gasp of laughter and she choked when she tried to swallow. Trip coughed and wheezed, trying to draw in a full breath while Jamie pounded on her back.
“Are you okay? Can you breathe? Are you choking?” Jamie’s voice rose a few octaves with each question.
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