One Perfect Year

by Melinda Curtis

  The bottom dropped out of Shelby’s stomach. “Is Grandpa okay?”

  “Yes.”

  Lucky scrambled to his feet, cocked his head and sniffed.

  “Shel, I need you to come downstairs.” Car doors slammed. Voices drifted up to them. It was too early for it to be Christine and Ryan, returning from a trip to Santa Rosa for supplies.

  Lucky barked and charged the stairs.

  “Come on, Shel.” Gage held out a hand to her. They followed Lucky down the stairs, Shelby nearly stumbled on the last step. Gage’s broad back blocked her view of the windows. Lucky stood barking on his hind legs, looking out the glass pane in the door. She couldn’t see what grim thing faced her until he opened the door and Lucky bounded outside.

  There was a minivan parked in front of the farmhouse. A harried brunette in rumpled sweats and a yellow T-shirt jiggled a chubby baby dressed in pink on her hip. Two little boys fidgeted next to her. When they saw Lucky, the boys whooped and ran forward, shouting, “Bucky! Bucky!”

  Lucky skidded to a halt in front of them, and then twined between the boys, preening for pats of affection. The baby giggled and reached for the big dog. The woman carrying her smiled in relief.

  “No. Oh, no.” Shelby sagged against Gage. He put his arm around her.

  “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of Bucky.” The woman bent to let the baby pat Lucky’s broad head. “We thought we’d lost him. We were camping on the other side of Parish Hill. Bucky heard a noise and took off. We stayed an extra day, but when he didn’t come back, we had to leave. I had to work. I called animal control in Santa Rosa, not thinking there was a branch farther north in Cloverdale. Finally, someone told me about Cloverdale and here we are.” The joy in the woman’s voice danced a cleated-jig on Shelby’s goodwill.

  She loved Lucky. He was the sweetest dog, highly intuitive to the moods of everyone around him. He deserved a good home. A safe home. A home where people didn’t let him go astray.

  Like I did this morning.

  Shelby reached for Gage’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “He...uh...likes other animals.” Shelby’s voice sounded distant and faint, as if it came from across the river. “Geese...kittens.”

  “Boys, settle down.” The woman didn’t acknowledge Shelby. Perhaps she hadn’t even heard her.

  Lucky didn’t so much as glance Shelby’s way.

  “He’s very patient with the elderly.” They were going to take him. Something cracked inside her, something she’d held together for too long. “There’s Mae...”

  One of the boys produced a scuffed softball and threw it into the vineyard. Lucky ran after it, bringing it back with an excited bounce to his step. He danced around the boys and played keep-away. The baby laughed and clapped her hands.

  Shelby’s heart was in her throat. Lucky—Bucky—was so clearly theirs and so ecstatic to be reunited with them... She swallowed back the heartache.

  “He didn’t have any tags.” Only a hint of reproach tinged Gage’s voice. “We would have called if he did.”

  “He got a new collar for his birthday, before we went camping.” The woman was too busy enjoying the reunion to pay Gage and Shelby much attention. “I didn’t think to put his tags on it until it was too late. I have a hard enough time keeping up with my boys.”

  Lucky...Bucky...jumped into the back of the minivan without the enticement of dog treats and sat between the seats as if it was his usual spot. He kept touching the boys with his nose, as if to reassure himself they were really there. The poor thing must have been so devastated when he’d gotten lost. His boys...his family...

  “Can we come visit?” Shelby’s words weren’t more than a whisper. She knew where Lucky belonged. She was once more the outsider, looking in on a complete and happy family.

  Shelby couldn’t speak. She couldn’t even bring herself to walk down the porch steps to say goodbye.

  Too soon, Bucky and his family were gone.

  In a blink, Shelby’s life had changed again.

  * * *

  THE GOOSE DIDN’T like Mushu, Doc’s cocker spaniel, as much as it had Lucky.

  Gage couldn’t refer to the big dog by his proper name.

  He sat at the kitchen table eating a portion of the frozen lasagna Shelby had prepared for dinner. She’d barely eaten and was sitting on the grass in the backyard with the two kittens and the goose.

  The goose, she’d named Fanny. Meanwhile, she had no idea Gage couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

  After Lucky had been taken away, Gage thought it best to give Shelby a distraction. He’d brought Fanny home as a result. The goose had limped a slow loop outside while Shelby ate. Afterward, she nestled next to Shelby in the grass, occasionally nudging a kitten over to Shelby with her beak or honking at Mushu when she came up for a friendly sniff.

  “I miss that dog already,” Gage mused.

  “Best make sure no one comes claiming that goose,” Doc said in a gravelly voice as he wandered from the kitchen to his library.

  Gage agreed. “If someone shows up, I’ll offer to buy it.”

  His cell phone rang. It was the equine hospital with a request he deliver a foal tonight. Gage considered turning it down. He wanted Shelby to come with him, but not when she was dealing with losing Lucky. But the last time he’d turned down a request, a foal had died.

  “Don’t tell me they want you again?” Doc’s incredulous voice drifted to him from the living room. “They’re having a baby boom over there in horses.”

  “It’s several different breeding programs.” Gage negotiated his way into the living room. The old man stood near the hearth. His balance had a pendulum quality that always made Gage nervous. “Steady there, Doc.” Gage surveyed the space between the stacks and realized if he went any farther he might knock things over. “Why don’t you bring whatever you’re reading to the kitchen?”

  “I’d just have to refile it later. It’s easier to read in here.”

  “I’d be interested in reading whatever’s got your attention,” Gage lied as he glanced over his shoulder toward the backyard. Shelby still sat with her menagerie. Gaipan had joined the party, crouched in the grass a few feet away from the action.

  “Leaving the stack messes up my entire filing system.” Yet the old man tottered through the tall piles toward Gage.

  When Doc made it out safely, Gage released a breath and led the old man into the kitchen. “Next time I go into Cloverdale I’ll pick up some storage boxes.”

  Doc slapped a copy of Vet Med Magazine on the kitchen table in front of Gage. “Now don’t you start. It’s bad enough I have Shelby nagging me about change. This is my house and I like things just the way they are.”

  Shelby turned toward them, perhaps hearing her grandfather’s outburst. Her features were barnacled, fighting against more tears. She didn’t need an argument today with Doc about his safety and mobility.

  Gage pushed the magazine toward the old man. When he spoke, his voice was as hard as metal. “You have the balance of a drunken sailor and at your age your bones are as fragile as fine china. If you want to sacrifice pride for being safe, that’s your business. But if you fall and hurt yourself—or die—it’ll break her heart.” He pointed to Shelby outside. “And that’s my business.”

  Staring at his granddaughter, Doc cleared his throat, but said nothing.

  Gage ran a hand over his face. “I need to leave.”

  * * *

  SHELBY HAD INSISTED on going with Gage to the equine hospital.

  She’d left the goose in her crate in the kitchen next to the crated kittens, which needed to be fed every four hours. Her grandfather had begun to grumble, but one look from Gage and he’d bit back whatever argument he’d considered making.

  Neither she nor Gage had spoken much on the drive over. Gage had offer
ed her his hand to hold and she’d taken it.

  The city of Davis was a mixture of small town, university facilities and suburbs. The parking lot at the equine hospital was large, nearly filled with trucks and horse trailers. They checked into what was the main building and continued through a rear exit to the birthing stables.

  “This place is huge.” Larger than some people hospitals she’d seen.

  “The biggest building in the back is a rehab center.” Gage played tour guide. “It has a pool and the latest equipment for horses recovering from limb injuries.” Gage pointed to a smaller building opposite the birthing center. “That’s the ICU. On the other side of that is the boarding area.”

  “This is a huge operation. They must pay well.”

  Gage nodded.

  “And yet you still drive that old beat-up truck.”

  “I don’t need anything fancy. The engine works. The air-conditioning works. And it has sentimental value to me.” His gaze was warm.

  And yet, she’d noticed a difference in Gage as soon as he’d gotten out of his truck. There was more of a swagger to his walk.

  She might have attributed his shift to a focus on work, except she was reminded of Nick—his swagger, his attitude, his confident laughter before he rappelled down a steep cliff. Gage may have held her hand, but once on the path to the birthing center, they didn’t walk together. He charged ahead, she struggled to keep up.

  It was wrong of her to come here. She’d known it, too.

  She still wore black.

  “Gage.” Shelby drew Gage to a halt before they entered the stable. “We’re just a couple of kids from Harmony Valley. You treated a goose this morning.”

  Gage frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  He had no idea. This—the two of them—wasn’t going to work. But now wasn’t the time to tell him.

  She stretched onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Never mind. Good luck.”

  He cast his arm over her shoulder and smiled. But it was the smile he gave to people to hide his feelings and get his way.

  Oh, no. There was a crowd milling about a stall.

  As they got closer, Shelby read the name on the placard attached to the wall. “Devil’s Surprise Party?” She turned her wide-eyed gaze on Gage, a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Stall banger! Get outta there!” someone shouted.

  Several people scrambled away from the stall door.

  Shelby craned her neck to see inside. A black very pregnant mare trotted past, then started kicking.

  Bang!

  “Thanks for coming, Dr. Jamero.” A middle-aged man with silver streaked hair greeted them. After he’d introduced himself as Dr. Thomason, the owner of the facility, he added unnecessarily, “She’s one ticked off mother-to-be.”

  Gage watched the mare intently, almost eagerly.

  Shelby’s heels dug in. “Gage, don’t go in there.”

  He looked down at her. His expression softened. “She’s in pain, Shel.”

  “She’s looking for blood.” Shelby had to raise her voice to be heard over the noise of the mare kicking the stall again. “Please don’t let it be yours.”

  Gage drew her into his arms. “Try to understand, Shel. She’s in labor for the first time. It hurts and she doesn’t know how to make the pain go away. The more hysterical she gets, the more frightened she becomes, the more danger her foal is in.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You can wait in the main building if it upsets you.”

  She buried her face in his chest, breathing in the scent that was distinctly Gage. “Please.” Life wasn’t fair. Disaster lurked around every corner waiting for you to blink. She was too weak to stop it, too helpless to protect him. Nick. Lucky. “I can’t lose you, too.”

  “You’re not going to lose me. I promise.” He tilted her chin up and kissed her. His gentle press of lips promised shelter, hope...a future. She closed her eyes and tried to believe, tried to have faith, tried not to cling to him when the kiss ended.

  Dr. Thomason touched her shoulder. “He’ll be fine. He was born to do this.”

  She turned away.

  Others began streaming into the barn to watch, pulling out cell phones to record the action. They jostled Shelby forward until she was pressed against the stall’s observation window, facing Gage. She saw him unlatch the door and step inside.

  In the corner, the mare breathed heavily, pawing the ground with her front hoof. Her nostrils flared. Her eyes darted from the quieting crowd to Gage.

  And then she charged.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “WHOA!” GAGE USED his most dominant tone and threw up his arms as if signaling a touchdown.

  The mare skidded to a stop in front of him. Her neck and flanks were dripping with sweat. A contraction clenched her bulging midsection.

  He imagined it to be about as powerful as the adrenaline gripping him.

  There was a towel hanging over the stall door. Gage reached for it slowly. “Easy, girl.” He double folded it and stepped toward the mare, imagining the gasp in the crowd was Shelby’s. “Easy, now.” He ran the towel gently over the Devil’s neck. “Pretty girl. I’m here now,” he crooned. More patting of the mare’s neck. “You’ve tired yourself out and it isn’t even halftime.”

  Her ears twisted to listen to his voice.

  He began whistling softly, so softly it was more like a breathy hum.

  The Devil blew out a weary, shuddering sigh.

  Gage kept rubbing her down, being careful to stay in front of her withers until he’d gained more of her trust. There was a thick liquid over her hindquarters. Her water had broken.

  “It’s time to lie down, girl.” He eased his fingers into her bridle and drew her head down.

  She made a chuffing noise, but soon settled into the straw. Resting on the ground, her stomach bulged with at least seventy pounds of foal. Just as quickly though, she lurched back to her feet, butting her head into his chest.

  Gage took that as a request for another rubdown. This time he was able to gauge the tension in her belly, peeking beneath her wrapped tail to see if any tiny hooves were present. “Nothing yet, girl. Let’s get you back on the ground.” Where birthing would be easier on everyone.

  The Devil complied, but once she relaxed her body, a contraction hit and she staggered to her feet again. They repeated the process a few more times. Still no hooves in sight.

  Gage retreated to where Shelby and Dr. Thomason stood.

  “Let me through.” It was Leo, looking as if he was ready to make hospital rounds in his pristine white coat. “No one called me. What’s the status here? Get out, Dr. Jamero. This is my wing.”

  “I’ve asked Dr. Jamero for a consult,” Dr. Thomason said crisply. “The Devil is high-strung. I thought it best to bring in a specialist.” It was a nice way of saying Leo had messed up the last time and risked the equine hospital’s reputation.

  “Dr. Faraji...” Gage figured the least he could do to ease the sting of being replaced was to give the man an update. “She’s going to deliver standing up. I can’t get her to rest.”

  The mare paced the stall, nudging Gage’s shoulder every time she passed by him. Gage gave Shelby his most reassuring smile.

  She looked at Dr. Faraji.

  “Get out.” Leo edged his way along the door toward the latch.

  The Devil kicked the stall with increasing force.

  “Easy, girl,” Gage crooned. “There’s nothing bad going on here.”

  “Stay where you are, Dr. Jamero.” Dr. Thomason’s voice was sharp and decisive.

  Leo’s gaze turned thunderous.

  Shelby was biting her lip. Her hold on the stall door was white-knuckled. This was not the scenario Gage had played out in his head when he’d asked her to join him.
But he still had a job to do, a patient to attend to. This was what he was meant to do.

  The Devil walked past him. Gage fell into step with her, running his hand from her withers to her rump, getting her used to his touch. Several minutes passed. Her pace slowed. The crowd was silent.

  “She’s almost there,” Dr. Thomason said as Gage and the mare passed by the stall door.

  The Devil grunted. Gage let her walk on. A pair of tiny hooves wrapped in the bluish-white amniotic fluid crested beneath her tail.

  Gage opened the door latch. “I’ll need help. One person.” He didn’t take his eyes off the mare as she continued her circuit.

  Someone entered the stall. He spared a glance over his shoulder. Of course, it was Leo. He stepped forward too quickly, reaching for the mare’s bridle. She kicked out, barely missing Gage’s leg.

  “Easy, Leo. Don’t move until she gets used to you.”

  Leo huffed, but stood still in the corner.

  The next time the mare came around, Gage fell into step with her, draping an arm gently over the mare’s haunches so he could keep an eye on the foal.

  He felt the contraction build. Gage crooned meaningless words. The mare perked her ears to listen. “Now, Leo. Lockstep, and when she’s used to you, take the bridle and slow her down.”

  Amazingly, Leo did as instructed, waiting until the Devil had accepted him as a walking partner to take her bridle. The mare’s muscles bunched. A nose appeared beneath her tail.

  “That a girl. Almost there now.” Gage kept talking softly as he slowed enough to walk even with her tail. He took the small hooves in hand and helped ease the foal out, inch by precious inch. “Stop her, Leo.”

  The mare kept moving.

  “Leo.” There was more tension in Gage’s voice than he would have liked to use.

  The mare didn’t like it, either. She lashed out with a hoof Gage easily dodged, having sensed her muscles tense. Shelby cried out. The foal’s chest was cradled precariously in his arms. Another push and the foal would be out. Another safe delivery.