“You have to accept the possibility that your nana’s plan won’t work,” he said with a tenderness he hoped took the sting from his words. “And, if it doesn’t, you must realize that the failure won’t be your fault. Your father’s a grown man. I think what he’s doing is a mistake, but I also know he has the right to make one, if he chooses.”
“You’re wrong,” she said hotly, indignation staining her high cheekbones a deep rose. “He has no right, not when what he chooses breaks my mother’s heart and betrays his marriage vows.”
Merrilee had offered the perfect opening to remind her of her promise to marry Grant and how she’d broken his heart, but he bit back the bitter words. He’d have to be a sadist to say anything now that would add to her distress.
Besides, their relationship was water under the bridge.
Then why did his heart ache at the sight of her? And why was he so concerned about her unhappiness?
Because he still loved her.
Always would.
Not many animals mated for life. The swan was one. With an inward sigh, he admitted that Grant Nathan was another. But if he couldn’t have Merrilee, at least maybe he could save her from more heartache.
“Like I said, your being here and spending time with your dad might end his affair and mend your parents’ marriage, but it might not. And if it doesn’t, I don’t want you feeling it’s your fault. Jim Stratton’s made his bed. Literally.”
Merrilee flinched. “I wish you hadn’t painted that picture.”
“It may be one you’ll have to live with.”
“Is this your way of saying you won’t help?”
She sounded so forlorn, Grant had to squash again the desire to hold her. Instead he laced his fingers on top of his desk blotter. “I’ll help you schedule time with Jim on his rounds. But if your father catches wind that you, your grandmother or I am plotting against him, the entire scheme could backfire and plant him even more firmly in Ginger Parker’s clutches.”
“You’re right.” She seemed to force a smile. “You should have been a therapist. Your counseling talents are wasted on animals.”
“But they come in handy with their owners.”
He wished he could help Merrilee more with her father’s problem. She seemed so fragile and vulnerable, nothing like the headstrong and fiercely independent woman who’d struck out on her own to conquer New York and the world.
“What are your plans for today?” he asked.
“Nana has her Rook club and Mom has classes. I’ll stay busy preparing proofs of pictures from my latest job.” She frowned. “I can’t believe it was only night before last that I photographed that wedding.”
Grant guessed that the prospect of viewing photos of a deliriously happy bride and groom was depressing under the circumstances. She needed a friend, someone she could talk to about her parents’ breakup. And she also needed to get her mind off their problems for a while.
“I have appointments until two-thirty this afternoon,” Grant said. “After that, I promised Jeff Davidson I’d drive up to check his livestock. Want to come?”
“Jeff Davidson?” The name seemed to shock Merrilee momentarily out of her depression. “I thought Pleasant Valley’s resident bad boy had joined the army.”
“Marines. But he didn’t re-up after his last tour of duty and now he’s home to stay. Come with me when I call on him. It’ll take your mind off…things. You shouldn’t be alone. Too much time to think.”
Merrilee took only a few seconds to contemplate his offer and answered with obvious relief. “I’d like that. Thanks.”
Grant nodded, pleased she’d agreed. Against his better judgment he added, “And come to my house for supper afterward.”
“Shouldn’t you check with Gloria first?”
At the irony in her tone, he couldn’t tell whether she knew Gloria was a dog and was teasing, or if she really hadn’t a clue that there’d never be another woman in his life. At least no one serious.
“Gloria loves company.” He’d introduce the wolfhound to Merrilee this afternoon. Although gun-shy around most men, Gloria adored women.
Merrilee shoved to her feet with apparent reluctance. She probably wasn’t looking forward to the hours that stretched ahead, filled with worry and unhappy thoughts. “I’ll meet you here around two-thirty, then.”
Grant rose, slung his arm around her shoulder with an easy familiarity in order not to spook her, and walked her out to the waiting room.
“In the meantime,” he suggested, “why don’t you visit Jodie? She’ll be disappointed if she learns you’re in town and haven’t stopped by.”
“I don’t know…”
Grant tipped her chin with his finger and found himself gazing directly into the depths of her eyes. He wished he could erase the pain there. He suspected she was dreading encountering folks in town who had already heard the gossip about her father.
“This is the slow season for tourists at the café,” he explained. “And the locals eat early. If you go after one, you’ll have the place practically to yourself.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said, “but either way, I’ll meet you here later. I can take some preliminary shots when we visit Jeff, so I can honestly tell Daddy I’ve already started my book.”
Grant gave her shoulders a squeeze and released her with reluctance. “See you later.”
ON THE DRIVE BACK to town, MJ debated whether she should have accepted Grant’s invitation. She admitted the possibility of opening old wounds, but she also longed to prove her heart had healed for good, and that, when the goodbyes came, this time she could walk away from Grant without regrets.
She also really, really didn’t want to be alone now. She’d welcome an afternoon with the devil himself if he would take her mind off her parents’ problems.
No, that wasn’t true. More than anything, she wished to avoid people who might ask embarrassing questions about her folks, or even worse, a run-in with those jealous souls who would take great delight in the failure of a perfect marriage. Heaven knew, Pleasant Valley had a bumper crop of those kinds of gossips. MJ had watched them in action when Jodie was in trouble, and the prospect of those small-minded hypocrites dissecting her parents’ marriage and salivating over her father’s bizarre affair made her sick to her stomach.
She’d rather take her chances with Grant.
Try as she might, however, she couldn’t shake the feeling of déjà vu. The prospect of going on rounds with Grant brought back recollections of the summer he’d joined her father’s practice. With outrageous self-confidence, he’d bet that he could make her want to stay in Pleasant Valley forever.
And he’d won.
Temporarily.
Memories flooded back in a torrent. With Grant, she’d visited almost every farm in Pleasant Valley, places she’d called on with her father from the time she was a toddler. With Grant, however, she’d viewed old places with a fresh perspective. En route, he’d pointed out landmarks that she’d seen, but never really noticed: beds of trillium almost obscured on the shady forest floor, a hidden waterfall on Cradle Creek and a vantage point that revealed sunlight glinting off the granite rock face of Devil’s Mountain like dancing flames at sunset.
Most of all, she’d observed Grant in action. In his element. Even though he’d grown up in town as the son of a merchant, he’d displayed an easy camaraderie with the farmers and their families and a tacit understanding of the hardscrabble facts of making a living off the land.
And his touch with animals had been magical.
Catching sight of the silos of the Mauney farm, set back from the road behind a small hill, MJ remembered her first visit there with Grant. Joe Mauney had found one of his cows tangled in barbed wire, its udder torn and bleeding. He hadn’t been able to extricate the panicked animal because the cow wouldn’t let him near it.
Grant had taken the call on his cell phone one Saturday afternoon while he and MJ were helping Jodie clean her newly acquired building befor
e starting renovations. Driving to the farm, he’d pushed his pickup to the limits on the winding curves, sending MJ’s heart into her throat more than once, but he’d maintained perfect control of the vehicle, even in his urgency.
When they’d reached the farm, Joe had met them in the barnyard and indicated the north pasture. “Hired me a new helper. He was mending fences yesterday, and the idjit left a coil of wire in the field.” Joe’s ancient, weathered face was grim. “Can’t get the cow unhooked and she’s tore up bad. You may have to put her down.”
“Only as a last resort,” Grant replied.
They marched into the pasture. The cow’s mournful bellows could be heard long before they spotted her.
“I don’t want you losing income from a good milker,” Grant added.
But MJ had known Grant’s concern was more for the animal than for Joe Mauney’s earnings. Grant had already told her that the only part of his job he hated was having to destroy an animal he couldn’t heal.
As they approached the cow, MJ saw immediately that, in its panic, the Holstein had become more snarled in the wire, causing itself more harm. The nearer they drew, the more agitated the cow became.
“Stay here,” Grant said to MJ and Joe. “And keep still. I’ll try to calm her.”
Assessing the cow’s distraught state, MJ doubted that reassuring the injured beast was possible. Undeterred, Grant took a syringe from his bag, filled it with tranquilizer and walked slowly toward the animal.
“Easy, there.” He spoke softly, soothingly. “It’s going to be all right. I’m here to help.”
MJ knew the cow wasn’t intelligent enough to understand his words. She held her breath. If the huge bovine decided to lash out with its hooves, it could cause Grant serious injury, even kill him. Grant also ran the risk of entangling himself in the treacherous wire.
Amazingly, the longer Grant spoke in his low, gentle voice, the quieter the animal grew. Grant came within reach, and ran his hand slowly over the cow’s head and down its withers. His touch seemed to soothe the animal’s fear. Even before Grant jabbed it with the tranquilizer, the cow ceased bellowing and thrashing.
“Damnedest thing I ever saw,” Joe muttered under his breath. “Like he cast a spell on it.”
“Tranquilizers are amazing,” MJ said.
Joe shook his head. “Doc had that cow steady before giving it a shot. Must have magic hands.”
Once the drug had taken effect, Joe held the animal’s head while Grant used wire cutters to free the beast. Then he stitched the long, jagged tears on the udder.
After Grant had given Joe antibiotics and instructions for the Holstein’s care, they’d left the farm with the farmer’s gratitude ringing in their ears.
MJ recalled the incident as if it had happened yesterday. As she approached the downtown district, she tried but failed to quell other haunting memories of the touch of Grant’s magic hands.
Chapter Five
Grant had been right about the tourist season. As MJ drove into town, she couldn’t spot a single car with an out-of-state tag. Visitors would wait for summer and warmer weather before trekking through town to the mountains. Today, even local traffic was light and she found a parking space directly in front of Jodie’s Mountain Crafts and Café.
Her friend’s renovations had been ongoing over the past seven years, replacing all vestiges of the derelict Weatherstone fix-it shop. Log siding gave the building the rustic look of an old mountain lodge, and the huge sparkling display windows and double-glass doors projected a sense of openness and welcome. The jaunty awning of burgundy and hunter-green stripes above the door was new, another sign of Jodie’s success.
MJ stepped inside and almost turned and fled. She should have taken Grant’s advice to wait until after the lunch hour, because the counter was crowded with men and women who worked downtown. Fortunately, they were all either concentrating on their food or engrossed in conversation, and no one noticed her.
Visible in the open kitchen, Maria, the new short-order cook Jodie had mentioned in her last e-mail, worked the grill. Jodie stood at the cash register just inside the door, making change for a departing customer.
When she caught sight of MJ, her face registered surprise, then pleasure. “I’ll be right with you.”
MJ couldn’t run now, so she studied the day’s special on the chalkboard set on an easel. With her mind in turmoil, nothing she read registered.
Jodie appeared at her elbow. “The Virginia stew’s good. Mom’s family recipe.”
“I’m not really hungry. I just came to talk, but—” She nodded at the busy counter.
“Everyone’s been served. Things should quiet down soon.” Her old friend smiled with a mixture of pleasure and compassion. “You can eat on the deck. It’s more private.”
“And freezing.” MJ shuddered at the thought of the cold wind blowing off the river.
Jodie shook her head. “Not anymore. I have something new. It isn’t finished yet, but if you don’t mind roughing it…Brynn’s having lunch there. You can sit with her.”
“Thanks.” MJ gave Jodie a hug. “It’s good to see you. And great to see the café doing so well.”
Jodie returned her embrace, then led her through the wide hallway lined with shelves of craft supplies and merchandise, everything from handmade pottery and quilts to rustic birdhouses. Sunshine streamed through huge skylights to illuminate the items, and MJ’s artist’s eye appreciated their creative arrangement and immaculate condition. In spite of the size and intricacy of her inventory, Jodie never let a speck of dust linger in her shop. And, unless Jodie had changed, the café kitchen was equally spotless.
“I figured you’d show up soon,” Jodie said once they were out of earshot of the lunch crowd.
MJ stopped and faced her. “Oh, lordy, Jodie. Does everyone in town know?”
“You know Pleasant Valley,” Jodie said with an unhappy frown. “Gossip travels like wildfire through a dry thicket.”
MJ felt a rush of compassion for Jodie, who’d endured the brunt of community gossip and censure fourteen years ago when Brittany had arrived out of wedlock. Jodie had not only survived but thrived. That fact gave MJ a glimmer of hope that her parents might somehow weather their current storm.
At the back of the shop Jodie stepped onto what had once been an open deck, and MJ followed. She glanced around in surprise. “You didn’t tell me.”
Jodie flashed a satisfied smile. “Wanted to wait until I’d finished decorating, and I’m almost through. What do you think?”
Panels of insulated glass arched over the deck, forming a huge conservatory that provided a clear view of both the river and the mountain ridges that ringed the valley. Dining tables had been carefully arranged between groupings of potted palms and ficus to provide an oasis of privacy for each party. Despite the chilly temperature outside, the room was comfortably warm.
A woman rose from a seat at a corner table, and if MJ hadn’t been expecting Brynn, she wouldn’t have immediately recognized her longtime friend. Brynn’s bright red hair had darkened to an attractive auburn and grown from short curls into a sleek, shoulder-length cut. She was out of uniform in snug jeans, a fisherman’s sweater and tooled leather boots, an outfit that showcased a body that made men’s mouths water. Her midnight-blue eyes danced with delight as she approached and gave MJ a warm hug.
“It’s great to see you, Merrilee.”
“Good to see you, too, Brynn.”
“I’ll bring you lunch,” Jodie offered MJ. “What do you want?”
“You choose,” MJ said. “I’m not really hungry.”
“Bless your heart. Comfort food it is, then,” Jodie said and returned to the kitchen.
“Sit with me.” Brynn guided MJ toward the table she’d vacated. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say more when you called the other night. Didn’t think it was my business.”
MJ sank into a chair across from Brynn. “Nana’s filled me in on all the sordid details.”
Brynn
’s mouth twisted with contempt. “I knew that Yankee was trouble the minute she hit town.”
MJ couldn’t help grinning. “Some things never change. For an otherwise open-minded person, you’re still blindly biased when it comes to Northerners.”
“Don’t know how you stand living in the midst of them, although I admit I have met a few Yankees I’ve liked.” Brynn added artificial sweetener and stirred her coffee. “It’s the ones who treat me as if I’m mentally deficient that get my dander up. The ones who think Southerners are stupid because they speak with a drawl. Pshaw!”
MJ let her friend rant. For all her Yankee-bashing, Brynn was no bigot. If anyone needed Officer Sawyer’s assistance, whether with directions, car trouble or any other emergency, regional differences flew out the window and Brynn was standing tall, ready and eager to help, no matter who needed it.
“I ran a background check on this Ginger Parker,” Brynn said.
“Because she’s from New Jersey?” Surprise jolted MJ. Maybe Brynn’s prejudice against Yankees ran deeper than MJ had realized.
Brynn sipped her coffee, then shook her head. “Because she was throwing herself at my uncle Bud. Aunt Marion was ready to commit murder, so as an officer of the law, I felt it my duty to do a little snooping.”
Brynn’s uncle, Bud Sawyer, ran the local real estate company and was also president of the chamber of commerce. He and Marion had been married even longer than MJ’s parents. No wonder Brynn didn’t like Ginger Parker, Yankee or not.
“Find anything interesting?” MJ asked.
Brynn nodded. “When the infamous Mrs. Parker came to town, first thing she did was join the Baptist church. Played the grieving widow and virtuous woman to the hilt. Had all the men and half the women in Pleasant Valley feeling sorry for her recent bereavement.”
“Played the widow? You mean, she isn’t one?”
“Oh, she’s a widow, all right. But her husband died eleven years ago.”
“But—”
Brynn held up her hand. “I know what you’re thinking. Some women grieve for the rest of their lives. But this skank is a fake from the get-go. Turns out she hated her husband. I checked with the police department of the New Jersey town where they lived. For a decade before he died, the police logged over two dozen complaints of domestic disturbances. Those two fought like heavyweight contenders.”
Almost Heaven Page 6