by Mary Leo
Ever since her sister had moved to Idaho three years ago, her language had taken on an odd country flair. Not that it was bad, but it was certainly different.
“It’s really a fun office. You’ll see,” Kitty said.
Maggie flashed on what Amanda from the doughnut shop had said, about how she was going to get closer to kids or something like that. She had been determined to ask Kitty what that might mean, but at the moment, she didn’t want to upset her again. Any little thing could turn on the waterworks and Maggie simply didn’t want to go there.
Instead, she thought she’d gently find out some information. She poured herself a glass of local spring water and sat across from Kitty at the table.
“I was just wondering what, if anything, you might have told Doctor Granger, or Doc Blake as everyone seems to call him, about me?”
“Well, I knew what a pickle you were in, but if you mean did I tell him you were dating a slug who pretended to be in love with you, when, in fact, he was bonking his secretary who turned out to be a crazy woman who most likely keyed your new BMW, punched out your headlights, was responsible for your losing your six-figure position and is most likely responsible for your willingness to come to Briggs, Idaho, for a job that you’re completely overqualified for? No. I didn’t tell him.”
Maggie let out the breath she’d been holding. She so didn’t want anyone in this thimble of a town to know about her sordid past. It was embarrassing enough that most of her friends had abandoned her over the whole ordeal. She clearly didn’t need her new boss whispering behind her back. Not that he seemed the type, but she couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.
“Thanks.”
“I’m your sister, remember? I’m on your side.”
Now Maggie felt like crying. The whole miserable affair with her ex-fiancé was still raw, and talking about it ripped the scab off the wound.
“And you can forget about Doc Blake as a rebound lover,” Kitty added, scraping the container for the last bites of yogurt. “He’s a died-in-the-wool Briggs resident and wouldn’t leave again if his life depended on it. You’d have to move in permanent-like if you two got together.”
“Relax. I have no intention of anything close to ‘permanent-like’ in Briggs. I don’t intend to date anyone while I’m here, especially not my boss. No offense to you or any of the other women in this town, but I just don’t get what all the fuss is about. Yeah, he’s cute, in that country sort of way, but I’m a rock and roll kind of girl. Coldplay, U2 and Daughtry turn me on, not George Jones.”
“We’ll see. This town grows on you.”
“Maybe on you, little sister, but never on me.”
Kitty smirked as she polished off the yogurt and pushed the empty container aside. “Never is greatly overrated. I’m just sayin’.”
“Always the optimist.”
“It’s all about what messages we send out into the universe. If we’re positive, positivity comes back to us, whereas if we’re negative....” She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m a realist. I know who I am.”
“Maybe, but I’m just sayin’.”
* * *
BY THE TIME Blake pulled his mud-encrusted pickup in front of the family ranch house, the sky had turned a brilliant mix of pink, gold and deep blue against the backdrop of the black mountains. The golden aspens that surrounded this old log house were rustling in the warm breeze reminding him of why he had returned to Idaho. This was his favorite time of year, and he was grateful he wasn’t back in L.A., stuck on a freeway.
It didn’t matter that his day had been consumed with patients. Looking out over this spectacular piece of land nestled in the Teton Valley, Blake knew leaving Los Angeles had been the right decision.
It had been a long day that started off with caffeine, doughnuts and Maggie Daniels. Both the doughnuts and Maggie Daniels were bad for him, but he didn’t seem to care. Maggie was stuck in his head just as sure as come tomorrow morning he’d be stopping by Holey Rollers for a repeat performance.
Maggie had been jumbled up in his thoughts all day. She’d been there while he was giving Chad a pep talk about how great his teeth would look once the braces were off, and how all smart cowboys had their teeth straightened. She was there as he shared coffee with Chad’s mom, Lindsey, giving her advice on how to handle Chad’s situation in the future.
He had thought of her as he descended Lindsey’s front steps and spoke on his cell to Jimmy Ferguson’s mom, who was requesting an emergency extraction for young Jimmy’s loose front tooth. His mom couldn’t possibly inflict pain of any kind on her son, so it was up to Blake to do the deed.
Back in his office, the tooth slid out with barely a budge. Young Jimmy was so into watching Toy Story 3 on the ceiling monitor that he hadn’t noticed his tooth had been extracted.
Blake gave him the offending tooth in a tiny brown pouch so the tooth fairy could bring him a present in the morning. “I want to go home, home, home, Mommy,” Jimmy said. “I need to put this under my pillow right away, just in case the tooth fairy buzzes our house looking for bags of teeth. I don’t want her to miss mine.”
His mom agreed and off they went.
Blake loved the fact that he had patients young enough to believe in tooth fairies and Santa. Kids were easy. Adults were the kicker.
When that was over and he cleaned up, once again his thoughts drifted to Maggie and that salty walk of hers. Then, just as he was getting into a cozy fantasy about her, his phone rang and he agreed to drive over to Angie Barnett’s house. Angie was a first-time mom with a teething baby girl, who was desperate for some sleep.
After he checked out her screaming tot, he told Angie, “My mom would dip her pinky in whiskey, shake off the excess and rub it on her babies’ swollen gums. But some moms don’t like the idea of alcohol touching their baby, so it’s up to you.”
The baby let out an ear-piercing scream and Angie didn’t hesitate to rub the child’s gums with brandy.
“Please, oh, please,” Angie said as her baby chomped on her fingers, and within minutes the baby was as calm as a cat in the sun.
Blake gave Angie a few rubber teething toys he kept in an emergency kit in his pickup, and the combination seemed to work miracles.
By the time he eventually left, both Angie and her baby were fast asleep.
Another laid-back Sunday.
For once, he’d like to spend an entire Sunday doing nothing of any importance. Not that he didn’t enjoy helping his patients, but the thought of an entire day off seemed almost as impossible as trying to trim the whiskers off the man in the moon.
He climbed the wooden porch stairs of his ranch house and was greeted by Suzy and Mush. He bent over to give both dogs some good lovin’. They were siblings, part wolf with a whole lot more parts mutt. It was the mutt parts that loved attention and the wolf parts that kept critters out of the house and barn.
Wrestling with the dogs reminded him that Maggie Daniels had consumed him the entire day, even while he was singing “Home on the Range” to Angie’s baby.
For some reason, he couldn’t get rid of her image—those long legs, the girly underwear, and that sparkle in her eyes—but that didn’t mean he wanted her there with him. Regrettably, he had almost no control over his subconscious, where she now lived as sure as he knew he was dog-tired and wanted nothing more than to sit down with his family and share Sunday dinner, a perfectly cooked rib roast. Blake anticipated that first scrumptious bite as he grabbed the
doorknob and swung open the front door, Suzy and Mush following close behind.
No matter what else happened during the week, come six o’clock on Sunday night it was dinner with the family. He could count on it like prairie flowers in spring.
“Daddy’s home,” his five-year-old daughter, Scout, shouted as soon as she spotted him. She came running toward him at full throttle, arms outstretched, ready to grab hold and give him her tightest squeeze. Her miniature cowboy boots were clacking across the wooden floor, strawberry-colored hair in its usual state of disarray, blue shirt falling out of her britches, and a look of absolute love on her adorable face.
For the umpteenth time since they had moved back to Briggs, Blake fully realized that his sweet daughter desperately needed what all the kids he’d treated that day already had: a loving mom. Unconditional and all-consuming love was an emotion Scout’s own mom sorely lacked.
Living in a house filled with boys had turned his little girl into a blustering tomboy. So much so that she had wanted to cut off all her hair—something Blake was not ready to accept. Not that he thought there was anything wrong with those tough-boy traits, but he wondered if Scout missed pink and had settled for blue to fit in with the rest of the family. But most of all he wondered just how much she missed the fuss and love a woman could give her. He knew it was time he found someone else to share his life with, but so far, he’d been too busy. Maybe he needed to do something about that.
He whisked his child up in his arms and twirled her around. They eventually landed on the sofa with his younger brother Colt’s three boys getting in on the fun, along with Suzy, who loved a good tussle. Mush sat on his haunches and barked.
Colt’s boys ranged in age from three to six, and all were loved like crazy by their father and the rest of the men in the Granger family. The boys’ mother had passed away from complications right after giving birth to the youngest, Joey. Colt never faltered in his dedication to his boys, especially to Joey.
“Dinner’s sittin’ on the table,” Blake’s father, Dodge, announced. He was a tall man, six foot four, with a stride like John Wayne, and a temperament like molasses. Nothing fazed him, ever, and in the scheme of Blake’s chaotic life, his dad’s rock-solid demeanor was the anchor that kept him grounded.
Dodge ran the house, cooked most of the meals and essentially kept the place from falling completely apart, especially during potato harvest season, which was coming up in a few weeks. This was where Dodge and Colt had it all over Blake. They ran the agricultural part of the ranch while Travis, his youngest brother, took care of the livestock. Blake contributed his time when he could, but essentially he had his hands full with his dental practice.
Blake had wanted to be a pediatric dentist ever since he’d been thrown from a horse when he was twelve and dislodged his two front teeth on a rock. Everyone thought he would lose those teeth, but Doc Greeley saved them with his expertise. Blake thought it was cool and became friends with the doctor who was soon his mentor. Colt and Travis gave him a rash about his obsession with teeth for the longest time, and when it came time for Blake to go off to college or get serious about ranching, he chose UCLA School of Dentistry in Los Angeles. Then when Doc Greeley retired and moved away right around the time Blake and Scout moved back to Briggs, he took over Doc’s practice, a dream he’d had ever since he was a boy.
The kids raced to the table to take their seats. Dodge sat at one end and Blake sat at the other. Travis and Colt sat one on either side in between the kids, acting as wranglers.
The table was set with the same mustard-colored, Fiestaware plates that had been a tradition in the family ever since Blake’s mom was alive. She had liked everything to be neat and color-coordinated just like in a magazine. Unfortunately, she had a house filled with boys, so nothing was ever quite up to her satisfaction.
A large bowl of Idaho mashed spuds sent up steam on one end of the wooden table along with a platter of mixed grilled veggies and a large wooden bowl filled with salad. Simple, but satisfying. A loaf of freshly baked rosemary bread from On The Rise bakery sat on a cutting board ready to be sliced. The two dogs made themselves comfortable under the table near Dodge.
“So,” Travis began once a short prayer of thanks had been said and the side dishes began to make their way around the table. “Amanda, over at Holey Rollers, said Kitty’s sister was checking you out through the window this morning. What’s up with that? Has yet another woman fallen for the poor, suffering Doc Blake?”
“Oh, Daddy, did you eat a doughnut?” Scout wanted to know.
Blake had no choice but to come clean. “Yes, I did.” He was not about to tell her how many.
Colt said, “I hear she’s hotter than a burnt boot. Just your type, big brother. Too much woman wrapped up in a city suit.”
“You were bad, Daddy. They’ll rot your teeth.”
“Yeah, Uncle Blake, sugar is the enemy,” Colt’s oldest, Buddy, chimed in.
“I’m not interested in Kitty’s sister,” Blake told Colt, but he knew he didn’t say it with much conviction.
“Busted,” Joey announced while holding up his fork.
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Travis joked.
Blake held up a hand. “Wait a minute.” He turned to Scout. “I brushed when I got into the office, like any good cowboy should.”
Colt pressed on. “Amanda said you interviewed the sister to take Kitty’s place when she leaves.”
Blake wished everyone would get off his case, but he was used to taking a ribbing from his brothers. They’d been digging into him ever since they learned to put two words together.
Travis added, “From the sound of it, seems like she wants more from you than just a job.”
Colt doled out salad for himself and his two boys. Dodge rose, muttering about forgetting the main dish, and headed for the kitchen. “You’re not seriously thinking of hiring her, are you? Sounds like a carbon copy of the last woman who got under your skin. And we all know how that went down.”
Blake wanted to tell everyone to back off. That he had it all under control. That he wouldn’t hire Maggie. But the truth was he’d already hired her, and if he didn’t stop himself he was certain to head down the same dismal road, just like Colt warned.
Darn it all, he hated when his brothers were right.
Dodge reappeared, carrying what looked like a baked turkey roll on a white platter.
Blake immediately felt cheated. “What’s that?”
“Somethin’ called tofurkey,” Dodge said. “Made with some of that extra-firm type tofu, a little herb stuffin’, some mushrooms and a whole bunch’a celery. It’s a gift from Kitty who whipped it up herself, thankin’ us ’cause Blake here hired her sister, Maggie.”
“Here we go again,” Travis said, as he shook his head.
Blake decided to ignore Travis and focus on their poor excuse for a rib-eye roast. “Come on, Dad. You can’t be serious.” He was starving, but he’d rather eat his own boot than one of Kitty’s healthy creations.
“Kitty was good enough to go to all the trouble of makin’ it and luggin’ it over here, especially in her female condition. We got no choice but to eat it. We don’t waste no food in this house.”
“Does it have peanuts in it? I like peanuts,” Joey asked.
“Most likely,” Blake answered.
“Can’t we give it to people who like health food?” Gavin, Colt’s middle son, asked.
“This here’s a small town, son,” Dodge explained. “Ki
tty would hear about it before the first bite was taken, and that would hurt her feelin’s. You don’t want to be puttin’ a hurt on Kitty, now do you, son? No tellin’ what that woman might do.”
Gavin shook his head in resignation.
Dodge began slicing the tofurkey then plating it for his family. Joey was the only one at the table who seemed eager to eat his dinner. Everyone else wore a combination of fear and disgust on their faces. Blake was especially not eager to try it.
“Is Kitty going away, Daddy? I don’t want Kitty to go away. She’s my friend. I don’t want you to hire the hot boot lady. I want Kitty.” Big tears rolled down Scout’s cheeks.
Blake immediately stood and went over to her. He had a feeling the tears might be about something—someone—else. He knelt down beside his child as she tumbled into his arms. “Hey, baby, Kitty’s not going away. Not like you think she is. Kitty has to take some time off to have her babies. Once they’re born and she’s rested a bit, she’ll come right back to the office here. I promise.”
When the tears intensified, he carried Scout out to the front porch with Suzy following close behind. Wherever Scout went on the ranch, Suzy was usually right there with her.
Blake sat on the swing, placing Scout next to him. The sun had set, and the world around them was growing dark. Birds busied themselves up in the trees with a rush of evening song while Blake gently rocked the swing back and forth. A whitetail buck lazily grazed about twenty feet from the house, as if it knew he was safe from hunters on the Granger ranch.
The combination of movement, watching the buck and bird chatter seemed to calm Scout, though it took a few minutes before she stopped crying. When she finally caught her breath, she said, “She won’t ever come back, Daddy, and I’ll miss her too much. I don’t want her to go. Make her stay.”