He swallowed. “C’mon, Spike. Time to go back to jail.”
“Do you have to take him?” She put a protective hand on the dog.
“We’re not set up for a dog here.” He looked around, anywhere but at her. “No little-dog food, no dog bed...”
“I know, but he looks so sad!”
As if to prove her point, the dog peered up at him from beneath shaggy fur, his dark eyes pleading.
“I know—that’s why I brought him home. But Lacey...” His sister hadn’t okayed it. She also was never home these days; she was working double shifts at the hospital, ostensibly to earn extra cash, but really, probably, to stay away from the painful memories Bobby evoked.
“Oh, of course. I wasn’t thinking.” She sat up straighter, scooped the dog off the wicker couch beside her and deposited him into Buck’s arms.
The dog whined and struggled to get back to Gina.
“Hey, come on, buddy.” He scratched behind the dog’s ears until it settled into his arms as if confident he’d do the right thing.
Gina was watching him expectantly, too.
“Okay, look, I’ll work on it. But no promises.”
“Of course!” She was beaming. “Thank you!”
Buck would do just about anything to make her smile like that again. Which was really bad.
It was almost like he was falling in love with her.
Stuffing down that very disturbing thought, he spun away and hurried down to his truck.
Out at the rescue, after Buck had put Crater and Spike back into their kennels, he and Troy did a couple of procedures, working together like a well-oiled machine. Buck prepped and assisted, grateful for the distraction from his troubled thoughts.
One of the local farmers brought in a goat that had gotten tangled in some barbed wire, and Buck cleaned and bandaged its leg. In town, Troy’s practice was mainly small animals, but out here, they did what was needed.
Spike barked and whined every time he walked by, so when they hit a lull and were doing paperwork in the office, he brought the Maltese out and let it run around. After a cursory sniff of the room, the dog settled beside Buck’s office chair.
“What’s up with that?” Troy asked, nodding toward Spike. “Thought you went for bigger dogs, like Crater.”
“Yeah. He’s just so...” Buck trailed off and reached down to scratch the shaggy little guy’s ears.
“Needy?”
“Yeah.”
Troy nodded and changed the subject abruptly. “How are Gina and Bobby doing?”
“Great, I guess.” Buck focused on the intake form in front of him, filling in the details.
Troy leaned back in his office chair and put his hands behind his head. “You guess? Thought you’d know.”
Buck shook his head and kept on writing.
“I thought something was heating up between you.”
“No.” Buck looked up to meet Troy’s assessing gaze. “Can’t.”
“How come?”
Impatiently, Buck gestured toward himself. “Look at me, man. I’m a mess. Not a good choice for anyone.”
“I don’t know about that. Your life is more stable than hers.”
Stable wasn’t a word Buck had applied to himself, ever. But if he thought about how he lived now, he realized, it was accurate. He stayed with his sister, went to work at one or the other of his jobs, came home, went to bed. Got up and did it all again. Even went to church on a regular basis, and got something out of it.
But he’d seen the expression in Gina’s eyes after that night she’d gotten together with Angelica and Amy, and then again after they’d kissed. She’d heard things. She had doubts about him, and understandably so. “I have a history, and it keeps wanting to chase me.”
“People see you changing,” Troy said mildly. “You’re not chained to your past.”
Buck stood, restless. It was what Dion had said, too, but he and Troy were both looking at life with rose-colored glasses. The past did come back to bite you. “I gotta get back, do a little more work tonight.” He paused then, fingered his sobriety coin and made an abrupt decision. “Hey, listen. You know I’m working the steps in AA.”
Troy nodded.
This was never easy. “One of the steps is making amends, and I need to do that with you.”
Troy tipped back in his chair. “You’re doing great now. That’s all that matters.”
“No.” Buck forced himself to stand there and go through with it. “I was a jerk in a number of ways, but a day I remember in particular, I came in to assist with surgery when I’d been drinking. Started to botch things up, and you had to kick me out and finish it all yourself.”
“I remember. I think I had a few choice words for you.”
“I deserved them. I put the dog you were working on at risk, and I’m sorry.” As soon as he said that, a weight he hadn’t known he’d been carrying lifted off his heart. “I’d like to find a way to make that up to you.”
Troy let his chair fall forward with a gentle bang. “You don’t owe me anything. But—” he waved an arm toward the dog area “—you might owe something to those guys. Or, at least, to one of them.” He looked down at the Maltese that stood patiently at Buck’s feet. “Think about it.”
“I will.” He shrugged into his jacket and headed for the door. Spike trotted confidently after him. When he started to go outside, the dog ran out and jumped at Buck’s truck.
Afternoon sun heated Buck’s back, and a cardinal sang its “Birdie? Birdie? Birdie?” from the top of a bare-limbed tree. Buck took a minute to breathe in the spring air.
Troy stood in the barn’s doorway, watching as Buck walked to the truck, opened the door and lifted the little dog in.
“Hey,” Troy called. “The half-drunk guy who used to stumble in here wouldn’t have given that dog a second glance,” he said. “You’re changing, whether you know it or not.”
“He’s crazy, right?” Buck said to the little dog as he put the truck in gear.
The dog propped its front legs on the door to look out, making nose smears all over the side window. Buck sighed, lowered the window a little so the dog could at least catch a whiff of springtime and drove back to the guesthouse at a sedate pace that wouldn’t knock the Maltese down.
Troy was right. On days like this, Buck barely recognized himself.
Chapter Ten
Two days later, Gina was drinking a glass of lemonade on the porch, trying to muster the energy to either cook dinner or take Bobby to the park, when a shuffling sound drew her attention to the street.
Miss Minnie Falcon was approaching the house, pushing her walker. She stopped in front of the gate and shaded her eyes with her hand, looking up toward the house.
“I’ll get it, Miss Minnie,” Gina called. She hoisted Bobby to her hip and hurried down to open the gate. “Would you like to come up and sit for a while?”
“I would, thank you. I’ll just leave my trusty steed here.” She parked her walker beside the porch steps.
Gina laughed, helped her up the steps and into an upright rocking chair and then brought her a glass of lemonade.
Bobby crawled over and pulled up on Gina’s leg, looking curiously at Miss Minnie.
“Why, look at him stand right up!” the older woman said. “Is he walking yet?”
“So far, he likes crawling better. It gets him around faster.” Gina replaced the baby gate at the top of the porch steps and handed Bobby the colorful roll-and-crawl ball they’d gotten from Buck’s stash. Bobby batted it, chortling when a tune started to play and then crawling after it. “I feel like he’s ready to walk. He cruises all around holding on to things, but he just hasn’t done it by himself yet.”
“Everything in its own time. Once he starts to walk, you won’t
be able to hold him back.” Miss Minnie leaned forward and took a sip of lemonade. “My, this is delicious. Thank you, dear. I won’t bother you for long.”
“It’s no bother. Truthfully, I’m glad for the company.” Gina meant it, too. Not only because she’d been feeling a little lonely, but because it was mostly the older generation who shared her fascination with history. “In fact, I’d love it if you’d tell me something about this house. Were you born here?”
Miss Minnie nodded and relaxed back into the chair. “Oh, yes. I was born here and lived my whole life here. My parents wanted to fill it with children, you see, but there was only me. I did have a lovely childhood, though. Right here in the middle of town, everyone stopped by.”
“It’s a perfect location,” Gina agreed.
“Everyone from all the farms would come to do their Saturday shopping in town, and of course, they came Sunday for church, so we always had something going on.” Miss Minnie looked off into the distance as if she were able to see the past. “Father passed when I was in my twenties. But Mother lived to be quite old. Almost as old as I am now.” Miss Minnie looked down at herself and chuckled, then shook her head. “I’d bring her out onto the porch every day and we would have a little tea before dinner. She loved to watch the people go by.”
Gina smiled and nodded, hoping the older woman would continue. “Has Rescue River changed much?”
Miss Minnie gestured toward town. “The Chatterbox Café has been here for as long as I can remember. Lyman’s Tailors and Sadie’s Stout Shop are gone. But Love’s Hardware, that’s still there.”
“I met Mr. Love last week.”
“Oh, that man.” Miss Minnie shook her head with a little smile.
Gina suddenly remembered Buck’s comment that Mr. Love was sweet on Miss Minnie. “He seemed charming,” she said, lifting an eyebrow.
“Indeed he is.” Two high spots of color appeared in Miss Minnie’s cheeks. “Now, that’s enough about me. Tell me, child, are you planning to stay here in town?”
Gina looked around at the sunny street and sighed. “I love it here. But I only have my job of helping with the renovation a couple more weeks, until the Freedom Festival.” Something about Miss Minnie’s inquisitive, sparkling eyes made Gina want to confide. “It’s hard for Lacey, having Bobby here. He reminds her of all she lost.” Although to be fair, Lacey had been trying to get comfortable with Bobby, asking Gina questions about him and even, a time or two, offering to hold him.
“Of course.” Miss Minnie shook her head. “That poor child, she’s had so much heartache. As has her brother.”
“But...it’s strange. Buck seems to like babies, even though he lost his daughter.”
“Men and women are different.” Miss Minnie set down her lemonade and rocked gently. “Although I never had children myself, I know how women hold on to things. And then Lacey’s husband...” She rocked faster for a moment, shaking her head. “Well. I’m not about to spread gossip.” She looked at Gina with curiosity. “Some folks seem to think you and Buck Armstrong make a good couple.”
Heat rose to Gina’s face, revealing too much, and she laughed weakly. “Oh, well...”
Miss Minnie’s face crinkled into a smile and she patted Gina’s arm. “Let an old woman give you some advice. Life is short, and the things you think will always be there one day are gone.” She looked around at the porch and the house, her chin trembling a little. “One day, everything’s gone.”
Gina’s throat tightened. Not sure of what to say, she reached out to squeeze Miss Minnie’s hand. “I’m so glad you came over. I’d like to hear more about the house and its history.”
Buck’s truck pulled into the driveway, and a minute later, he trotted up the stairs, holding the little white Maltese that had made its way into Lacey’s heart by now, as well as Buck’s and Gina’s. “Hey, Miss Minnie, how’s it going?” he asked cheerfully.
“Well, I declare, this house is Grand Central station.” The elderly woman’s voice was cheerful again. “And my mother would turn in her grave to know there were dogs living here.”
“He’s just a visitor,” Buck said, “but if I remember right, you and your mother were all about cats.” He opened the door and whistled, and the orange tabby walked out, tail high.
“Now, is that Mister or Missus?” Miss Minnie asked.
“It’s Mister. Can’t you tell he’s a tough guy?” Buck picked up the cat in his free hand, chuckling, and deposited him in Miss Minnie’s lap.
After they’d visited a few minutes more, Miss Minnie petting the purring Mr. Whiskers, the older woman headed back to the Senior Towers.
Gina fixed a quick dinner and they made short work of the dishes. Gina settled Bobby in his crib and then, feeling more comfortable with Buck for the first time since their kiss, came back downstairs. “Do you have time to look at something?” she asked Buck.
“Sure.” He looked surprised but not unhappy that she’d reached out to him.
She showed the box and the journal to Buck. “This journal was in the box we found.”
He studied the first pages. “Who wrote this? One of Miss Minnie’s relatives?”
“I read the whole thing,” Gina said, “and I think it was written by a young fugitive woman who stopped here on the way north.”
“Really?” Buck examined the pages with more interest. “That’s some history.”
“Read it!”
She watched as Buck turned slowly through the old pages, deciphering the spidery handwriting, getting as caught up as she had herself at the tale of Minerva, a young fugitive who’d fallen in love with Abraham Falcon, the eighteen-year-old son of the Falcon family.
He looked up at one point, shaking his head. “He proposed? And gave her a fancy ring? That must have raised some eyebrows pre–Civil War.”
“Apparently so. Especially since she was expecting a baby. But the people who were most upset were those she’d escaped with. They didn’t think Abraham—or any white man—could be trusted.”
“Understandable.” He read a little more. “So they tried to talk her out of it and she wouldn’t listen.”
“Right, and wouldn’t come along as they were getting ready to go to the next station.”
“Which was the Old Rose Barn, I guess? Mr. Love’s family place?”
“It must have been. It’s not very far away, but I was reading that stations were pretty close together in this area.” Gina was glad Buck was as interested in the story as she was. “Apparently, she didn’t trust Abraham completely, because she concealed the fact that she could read and write. When he found out, he was angry she’d concealed it, and she was angry that he couldn’t understand why.”
Buck whistled. “I can understand it. Teaching a slave to read and write was a crime in the old South. She’d probably had to conceal her ability for years.”
“Anyway,” she said, too impatient to wait for him to read the whole journal, “they had a big fight. Minerva got mad and gave the ring to her sister as she was leaving. She told her sister to use it to get to freedom. But her sister said no, she’d hide it in the roses for Minerva to find when she got over being angry.”
“If she was that mad at Abraham, why didn’t she go along with the others?”
“She said she knew it would slow everyone down. She was near her time of giving birth.”
“So did they make up, Minerva and Abraham?” Buck had given up all pretense of reading the diary for himself.
“They did. The last entry is about how happy she is that they’ve come to understand and trust each other even better than ever before.”
“The last entry? So we don’t know what happened?” His forehead wrinkled as he turned to the last page. “It just stops. There was no ring with the journal, no description of a wedding?”
She shook her head. “She
must have started another journal, or else been busy with the baby. At least, I hope that’s what happened. I hope she didn’t have to give up on marrying him.”
Buck nodded. “Totally understandable that her friends didn’t want her to trust Abraham.”
“But she believed in him.”
A curious expression crossed Buck’s face and then was gone. “I wonder what roses she’s talking about. Where her sister hid the ring, and whether Minerva and Abraham ever found it.”
“She said she’d hide it in the roses. I wonder if that was around here? The roses couldn’t still have survived, I don’t think.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “There’s a rose garden right by the sign coming into town...”
“Oh, there are a million possibilities, and this journal is really old. We probably wouldn’t find anything now.” Gina felt disappointed. “At any rate, mementos like the journal should be preserved.”
“Since Abraham is one of her ancestors, Miss Minnie may know what happened to them, whether they got married,” Buck said. “Or maybe Mr. Love will. He’s also familiar with the town’s history.” He studied the ragged, leather-bound book again. “This reminds me of hunting for treasure when I was a kid.”
“Hey, I have an idea,” Gina said without thinking it through. “We should go digging.”
“Are you asking me out?” he shot back. And then he blew out a breath. “Sorry. I know you’re not.”
She looked into his eyes and read the confusion there. She was confused, too. She’d made the decision that he should not be in her life, and she hadn’t had a moment’s happiness since. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
“No. I am sorry. We can’t go there. I’m leaving, and you’re focused on Bobby. It’s fine.”
The thought of him leaving crushed her happy feelings. She was lonely, plain and simple. Bobby was wonderful, but he was a baby. She was starting to make some friends, but that didn’t fill the gap in her.
“Tell you what,” he said. “After Bobby goes to sleep, and Lacey’s home in case of any problem, let’s go out searching.”
“You mean it?” If they were going to be apart, a little time together wouldn’t be bad. Would it? Especially if there was a mystery involved?
The Soldier and the Single Mom Page 12