“Hey, I grew up eating this kind of rice—and no, you boil the meat.”
Cait sighed. “Meg was big on instant anything, but I have discovered how yummy long grain rice tastes.”
Jack frowned, remembering the hard years Meg and her family lived through after their mother died. “This cooks faster.”
Cait agreed.
Jack shrugged. “Besides, we don’t know when he ate last and this is an old-time remedy for a puppy or dog with an upset stomach. It’s not just easy to digest. The flavor encourages the dog to eat.”
“You sound like you’ve done this before.”
He chuckled and handed her the meat to unwrap and then a plate. “Our first beagle, Jake, used to eat things he wasn’t supposed to.”
She placed the slice of meat and gravy in the microwave to warm up. “Like?”
“Shoes, sticks, floor tile, birdseed—”
She turned the water off and added the rice. “Your dog ate all of those things?”
“And more.”
The microwave beeped and he pulled the turkey out. Jamie’s little nose twitched and he licked his lips in anticipation as Jack added the warmed-up meat to the rice. “When he was going through the chewing phase, we had to make sure we put away everything that wasn’t nailed down to keep Jake from chewing it.” She looked as if she didn’t believe him, until he added, “That’s when he started on the chair rungs and table legs.”
Her laughter filling his kitchen eased a hole in his life he hadn’t recognized existed. It reminded him of growing up in this house; there had been a lot of laughter. Thinking of the years he’d spent away from home across the sea, when there had been no laughter, had him wondering if there could be again. His gut clenched. He hadn’t even told his parents the full extent of what happened in Iraq.
“Seriously?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she poked him in the shoulder.
“Hmmm…what?”
“I asked if you’re serious.”
“Absolutely. That dog used to drive my mom nuts with his chewing. Who knew a dog would chew the back of a chair?”
Jamie chose that moment to speak. His rough little barks, followed by Caitlin’s laughter seeped into his heavily guarded soul. “I guess somebody’s hungry,” she observed.
“Here.” He handed the dog off to her.
Mixing the meat and rice with a dash of cold water, he put a few healthy-sized scoops in the Transformers bowl, tested the temperature with his fingertip, and set it on the floor next to the water. “Chow down, buddy.”
That was all of the invitation Jamie needed. He wriggled until Cait put him on the floor. He scampered over to his dinner and ate with all the gusto in his little puppy heart.
“His sides are getting bigger,” Caitlin sounded worried.
Jack shook his head. “That’s why you have to be so careful how much you feed a puppy. They’ll just keep eating until they barf.”
She wrinkled her nose and stared down at Jamie. “Did we give him too much?”
“I don’t think so, but let’s try to keep him calm for the next little bit to make sure his dinner stays in his stomach.”
When Jack’s cell phone and house line rang simultaneously, he went straight into combat-ready mode. He answered the cell first. “Gannon.”
Reacting to the worry in the sheriff’s dispatcher’s voice, he wondered why it hadn’t been the sheriff calling him instead of his dispatcher. “Don’t move her, elevate her feet to get her pressure regulated, and keep her comfortable. Does Mitch know?”
“He’s on his way back from Newark, had some police business over there.”
“Tell him not to worry. I’m on my way.”
When he disconnected, Caitlin had the dog in her arms and worry in her eyes. “Who’s hurt?”
“Honey B. passed out at her shop. According to Cindy, Honey B.’s been fighting a virus…she’s supposed to be my ten o’clock appointment tomorrow.”
“What can I do to help?”
Her immediate offer to help resonated deep within him. He always felt the same need to pitch in wherever he could—something else they had in common.
“Could you stick around and keep an eye on Jamie while I’m gone?”
“Yes. I’ll call my dad and let him know I’ll be late.”
“Good.”
Giving in to need, he pressed a swift kiss to her brow before patting the top of Jamie’s head. “I’ll keep you posted.”
***
“Well,” she said, watching the screen door close. “I guess it’s just you and me.” Looking down into eyes the color of her favorite chocolate bar, she wondered if she knew what she was getting into. Nuzzling his face, she sighed. “I’ve got to call Pop.”
Hitting speed dial, she braced herself when he answered. “Hey, Pop…it’s me, Cait.”
“I was getting ready to call Doc Gannon.”
She fought to control the nervous laughter. “Funny thing about that, Pop. I’m over at his house right now.”
“Doc’s? Why, are you sick?”
“No…I’m puppy sitting.”
“When did Doc get a dog?”
She was about to launch into the tale of how they worked together to rescue little Jamie when the dog started to chew on her earlobe. Distracted, she shifted the puppy so he couldn’t reach her ear, and told her dad, “It’s a long story and the little guy is nibbling on me. Jack had an emergency call over at Honey’s. I’ll be here until he gets back.”
“I guess you can’t bring the little guy over here, what with Grace’s allergies.”
She paused, unsure of what to say to her father about Grandpa’s truck. Finally, she decided to just tell him, “I’m really sorry, Pop.”
Her shift in topic wasn’t lost on her father. “I know you are, Caitlin.” The disappointment coloring his words added another layer of guilt. “But the important thing is that no one was hurt.”
“But Grandpa’s truck—” she began.
“Is easily fixed and it’s only a few days. By now the people in town know that nothing will keep a Mulcahy from fulfilling a promise to fix whatever is broken. Give a call when you’re leaving Doc’s.”
“OK. Talk to you later.”
Jameson chose that moment to squirm out of her arms and toddle to the middle of the kitchen floor and squat. “Jameson. No!”
The puppy looked up at her, and if he was human, she would have sworn he was smiling up at her…maybe it was his little underbite. But one thing was for sure: he didn’t understand the word no. Either that or he chose not to listen—and peed all over the place.
Grabbing the roll of paper towels, she tore off a bunch and mopped up the puddle and was hunting up the garbage can when she heard him yipping behind her. She spun around and started laughing. Jameson had grabbed a hold of the paper towels and was running in a circle—a wide arc of white following wherever he ran.
After a few minutes, she realized he was scared of the long, flowing white trailing behind him. “It’s OK, Jamie,” she soothed. She scooped him up and walked to the back door. They had been here awhile and he hadn’t had to do any of his doggie business. He probably had to go, especially since he peed. Petting his neck, she remembered he didn’t have a collar. She had to think of something else. She didn’t want to run to the risk of him running away from her in the dark.
Just the thought of that had her turning around to face the mess he’d made in the kitchen. “I guess we’d better look for some newspaper. Can’t have you pooping on Jack’s floor.”
She found what she was looking for in the living room, a neat stack of newspaper beside the fireplace, and wondered if he rolled them up into paper logs to start a fire like her father did.
Taking the time to notice the fireplace, she wondered if it had always been a soft cream color or if
the bricks had been unpainted when the house was new. She’d have to ask Miss Trudi; the town’s quirky octogenarian would know.
It was getting darker by the moment, so she crossed the room and lit the floor lamp. The room was bathed in the soft glow of incandescent light, giving it an ethereal quality. She’d have to ask Jack why he wasn’t replacing his light bulbs with fluorescent ones. Her dad had been all for reducing their carbon footprint—and in fact had started a mini campaign in town, doing his part to encourage those who were behind the times to step it up.
That thought had her smiling as she grabbed some newspaper and headed back to the kitchen. She set him down on the floor and spread the paper next to the back door. “OK…go ahead.”
He sat down and tilted his head to the side as he looked up at her. She wondered if he understood anything she was saying. Dogs are very smart animals. “Well,” she said, watching him for a sign that he had to go to the bathroom. When he didn’t move, she laughed. Maybe he couldn’t go because she was watching him. She turned her back and heard him on the paper. “Good dog.”
Giving him a few minutes, she waited before looking over her shoulder. “Jamie!” He hadn’t been going to the bathroom. He paused mid-chew and smiled an adorable little doggy smile; he was eating the paper.
She leaned down to grab it out of his mouth, and he shivered in excitement, leaning down on his front paws with his tail in the air. He was ready to play! “Open your mouth,” she coaxed. He jerked his head and tugged, spreading the newspaper from the back door across to the stove.
“Jamie, no.” He was making a huge mess. She would have to clean it all up before Jack got home, but as soon as she started to reach for the paper, he tossed his head from side to side as if to say no and ran for the living room, shreds of paper trailing behind him.
By the time she caught up to him, he had started to chew on the edge of the braided rug in front of the fireplace. “Oh no!” She lunged for the dog and was stepping onto the edge of the rug just as he set his teeth into the thick braid and tugged.
Caitlin had nothing to grab on to as her feet went out from underneath her and she landed on her back. Stunned, she lay there for a moment before she realized the odd noise came from her as her lungs desperately tried to drag in air. She’d knocked the wind out of herself when she’d hit the floor. She struggled to calm her racing heart and draw in that first painful breath.
She pushed herself up on one elbow as the small black juggernaut ran toward her from across the room, landing in the middle of her chest. As he licked her face from forehead to chin, she couldn’t decide if she should yell at him for trying to eat the rug or for knocking her off her feet.
Deciding he wouldn’t really understand why she was yelling at him, she began to stroke him from the top of his head to the tip of his tail. He lay down on top of her, putting his nose beneath her left ear and sighed a huge doggy sigh of contentment. As he started to snore, she was lost. At the tender age of twenty-six, Caitlin Cathleen Mulcahy had fallen in love—really in love—for the first time in her life, with a little black fuzzy puppy.
She couldn’t bring herself to move the little guy. He must have had a tough day, either getting lost or being dumped. So she continued the soothing movement, beginning at the top of his head and stroking her hand along his spine. The weight of the dog, combined with the heat he gave off, relaxed her until she let her eyes drift closed. Contentment like she’d never experienced before filled her. With a hand to his back, she gave in to exhaustion.
***
Jack fought the panic that had assailed him, arriving home to a semidark house and no one in sight. Following the trail of shredded paper towels and newspaper, he found Caitlin and Jamie asleep in the middle of the living room. The rug was all the way over by the entrance to the hallway, but that wasn’t what had him kneeling down beside them. It was the soft sound of the puppy and Cait snoring.
Who knew that the middle Mulcahy sister would make such an inelegant sound when she slept? The realization that he couldn’t tell anyone about this hit him like a ton of bricks. People would start to think that he and Cait hooked up and had a thing going on. Looking down at the way she had the dog curled protectively against her, he had no choice but to acknowledge the need that speared through him.
He reached out and brushed the hair out of her eyes, as was becoming a habit whenever he was around Caitlin. She shifted and moaned softly, drawing his attention to her full bottom lip and the curve of her mouth.
He was fighting the urge to press his lips to hers when Jamie woke up. His yip and accompanying wiggling woke Caitlin.
“Hey,” she said, shifting the dog off of her so she could roll onto her side. “You’re back. How’s Honey B.?”
He grinned. “She’ll be fine come fall.”
Cait looked as if she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. “What’s wrong with her?”
Jack couldn’t keep from smiling at her naivety. “Oh, she’s not ill.”
Cait sat up and rubbed at the back of her head. “That hurts.”
The medic in Jack switched gears. “What hurts? What happened?” he said, reaching for her, gently letting his fingers probe the area while he watched her face for an indication of pain. Her sharply indrawn breath sounded as he found a knot at the base of her skull. “Easy, that’s quite a bump. How did you fall?” She didn’t answer quickly enough to suit him, so he asked another question, “Did you trip on the rug?”
She nodded and winced. “I was trying to get Jamie here to quit chewing on the rug…he had other ideas.”
“Ah.” Jack pushed to his feet and held out his hand to Caitlin. “Let’s just take a quick look at your eyes in the kitchen. The light’s better there.”
“Probably because you need to get with the program and install fluorescent lights in here. It’ll help reduce—”
“My carbon footprint,” he finished for her. “Yes, I know. Give me a break and a little time. I just got here.” He liked the feel of the calluses on her hand as he tugged gently to get her to follow along behind him. “Are you dizzy?”
“Nope.” She let herself be led until they were in the middle of the mess Jamie’d made of the kitchen. “I’m really sorry about all this. I was trying to clean up the pee and then I thought maybe he’d have to do more doggy business and I—”
“It’s OK, Cait,” he reassured her. “I’ve gone through the puppy stage a couple of times over the years.” He eased her onto a chair and opened the medical bag he’d left on the table when he’d come in. Using the penlight, he checked her pupils. They were the same size. “Good,” he said. “They’re clear.” He also noted that she wasn’t slurring her words. When she sighed and told him no, she wasn’t nauseous or dizzy, the knot of worry between his shoulder blades eased.
“So you aren’t mad at us?”
Charmed that she’d stick by the little stray, he shook his head. “Of course not. He can’t help being a puppy anymore than Honey B. can help being dizzy and nauseous for the first trimester.”
Cait slowly smiled. “She’s going to have a baby too?”
He grinned. “After doing a more thorough exam at my office, I was able to pinpoint early November as her due date.”
Caitlin’s happiness radiated from deep within her, encompassing the entire room and its occupants—who at the moment happened to be himself and the little black paper shredder. “Wait until Meg hears this!”
“She was with Honey B. when she passed out and called for help.”
“Can you beat that?” Cait asked. “Meg and Honey B. pregnant together again! Their kids will all grow up together just like they did.” Tears filled her eyes and for a moment Jack wasn’t sure what to do. Was her head bothering her, or was it a female thing?
Before he could ask, she brushed them away and grinned up at him. “It’s life here in Apple Grove coming full circle.”
“Hey—are you all right?”
The grip on his arm brought him back to the present. “Yeah, sorry, I was just remembering—”
“Growing up here,” she finished for him. “It’s a wonderful place for kids to experience life. Family, friends, neighbors who look out for one another—even if they butt their noses in where they don’t belong,” she grumbled.
“Like today?” he suggested, waiting for her to look up at him again. He liked watching the myriad emotions on her face.
She blew out a breath and snorted. “Yeah.”
He didn’t think she crossed her arms in front of her to draw his attention to her slender curves, but while she looked down at Jamie, his gaze lingered for a moment before he found the will to look away.
Now wasn’t the time to explore this sudden attraction…he had yet to get a good look at the bump on her head.
“Here,” he said, motioning for her to sit. “Let me take a look at that bump.”
“I’ve had worse,” she told him.
“I am sure you have,” he agreed. “Can you undo your braid? I need to see your scalp.”
The man in him chomped at the bit while the physician in him waited for her to comply. Watching the waterfall of strawberry-tinted waves falling to her waist was bound to keep him up nights for the next little while. Digging deep to shove those inappropriate thoughts aside, he warned, “This might hurt a bit, but I need to palpate the area around the bump to assess the damage.”
She tensed. “Ready when you are.”
One Day in Apple Grove Page 5