by Pamela Tracy
“She did. I thought I’d clean out your cupboards and search for the coins. You’d be amazed how often items turn up in the places you least expect them. Some of your pots and pans were pretty dusty, so I washed them.”
“You think the coins could be in a kitchen cupboard? That’s a long shot.”
“You’ve probably looked in the obvious places. I’ll look in the not so obvious.”
He nodded. “Life’s always a bit more interesting when things and people aren’t where they belong. Don’t you think?”
Chapter Twelve
Annie didn’t want to touch that comment. Just the thought of him bowing to her mother, making her mother feel the way Joe had made Annie feel when he bowed, told Annie she no longer knew where things belonged. It more than told Annie that home didn’t always mean the four-bedroom structure of childhood memories, but that home could be anywhere. Home wasn’t always literal. Home could change, from just a look in a man’s eye and the touch of his hand.
Suddenly, Annie missed the home of her childhood, having her sisters near and always knowing that Mom and Dad were nearby. She wanted that home back.
She headed for the kitchen and retrieved Boots. When she returned to the living room, Max hadn’t moved, except to lean back in the chair and close his eyes halfway. She pushed the TV tray closer to him, put the fork in his hand, and made herself comfortable on the couch—comfortable meaning she took Boots out of the box and set him on her lap. Maybe if she stayed in the living room, Max would eat.
For a full minute, silence reigned and the fork didn’t move. Could the man fall asleep holding the fork? Annie wasn’t sure. Nervously, she looked around the room, noting the portraits on the wall. Joe had certainly inherited his father’s build—although right now Max looked thin and tired—but his mother’s dark coloring. Max was light-skinned, his hair mostly gray with just a bit of brown showing.
The largest family portrait in the room showed a tall, lanky, much younger Max. Joe and his mother had a little more padding. Joe, in all the right places.
“Black Irish,” Max said, sitting up, eyes no longer half-closed, and scooting forward. “Joe’s mom came with both excitement and temper. Joe, now, he likes adventure, but he didn’t get the temper.”
“That’s good,” Annie said.
“I always wondered,” Max said, “what would have happened if Elizabeth hadn’t gotten so angry when the coins went missing.”
“Elizabeth was your wife?”
“Yes. She was in Nebraska visiting a friend. She got back the next day.”
“She thought Kyle took the coins.”
“Actually, no. She thought Missy Hicks took them. Missy was a wee bit wild and had already gotten into some trouble. She tended to follow Kyle around and try to get his attention.”
No wonder the coins had never been found. There were too many suspects to narrow down.
“Where did you get the coins in the first place?” Annie asked.
“My father died in World War II. When they shipped his belongings home, the coins arrived. We were all surprised when we found out how much they were worth.”
“If we find them, what will you do with them?”
He looked a little dazed at her question and pointed at her with the fork. “They’ll be handed down to Joe. He can do with them what he wants. They’re worth about fourteen thousand each.”
“I’m sure Joe will appreciate them.”
Max nodded and slowly picked up his fork. “I want to thank you for all you did this morning, helping Joe to get me out of the car and to the hospital. I know Willa ruined her shoes in the mud. I imagine you did, too.”
“Silly shoes,” Annie said. “Tennis shoes are more comfortable. I don’t know why I was wearing sandals. Habit, I guess. I think living in my part of Arizona just trains us to think ‘wear less’ instead of ‘dress sensible.’”
“I can buy you a new pair.”
“Now you’re worrying too much.”
Max took a bite, savored it for a moment, and started eating. After a few more bites, he asked, “How’s the kitten doing?”
Annie looked down at the tiny bundle she sheltered in her lap. He’d been exploring a bit, doing a kind of push-and-pull maneuver that allowed him to roll from one side to the next. “Boots seems to be doing okay. His stomach’s fat enough. I think I’m going to keep him. I’ve never had a pet.”
“Be careful,” Max warned. “Once you start taking in strays, it goes out on the pet grapevine and soon other animals will start seeking you out.”
“You’re kidding.”
Max chuckled. “I’m only half kidding. I help Joe sometimes when he gets in over his head and has too many animals to care for. I think my favorite was a squirrel Joe’s mama cared for. Joe says not to get attached to the wild ones, but I sure hated when we let that one go. For years, I was out there throwing food to the squirrels and looking for Charlie. That’s what I named him.”
“I take it the animals Joe treats usually get better.”
Max frowned. “I can’t remember many that didn’t get better, if they could. He gets his way with animals from Elizabeth.” He looked at the portrait Annie had been studying earlier. A smiling dark-haired woman seemed to look approvingly at Annie.
“When Joe’s mother was alive,” Max continued, “it seemed we always had a dog and a couple of cats. She couldn’t walk away from a sick animal, either. One time someone brought over a blue jay. What a scrawny little fellow. I thought it had deformed legs and that the kindest thing to do would be destroy it.”
He was silent for a moment, a half smile on his face, and Annie knew he was remembering his late wife, the good times—the look in the eye and the touch of the hand. Memories were like that. Sometimes they were so strong it seemed as if you could wish yourself back.
“She coddled that bird, did something to make those legs harden. After a while, that blue jay was starting to fly and landing on her shoulder.”
“Did you keep it?”
“No, Elizabeth said letting go was a gift, both to you and to the animal. Still, every day for a month, she stood at the back door and searched for the bird.”
“You still miss her.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Every day, but in a good way, and she’d taught me to let go. I know I’ll see her again. I think her death affected Joe more than me.”
“How so?” Annie thought back to the raw wound that still lingered from her father’s death. The early morning call, the rush to the hospital, finding out it was too late.
“He was just one year shy of graduating with his vet degree. He came home, supposed to only be for a week, but I practically had to force him to go back. Oh, not that he didn’t want to finish, but his heart was breaking and he couldn’t decide what to do.”
“Some people, when they’re hurting, bury themselves in work.” Even as she said it, she knew she was talking about herself, and also Beth to some degree.
“Not my Joe. He wears his heart on his sleeve, always has. He was worried about me, about money, and all kinds of things that the Good Book says not to worry about.”
“We’re back to the worry conversation,” Annie noted.
“Not sure we ever left it.” He leaned forward. “Are you still worried about your mother?”
Annie thought about it. “Yes and no.”
“Can’t be both,” Max said.
“Sure it can. But, relax, I’m no longer worried that you’re some con man out to take advantage of her.”
Max laughed. “Good. Although I must say, it’s the first time I got to be cast as a villain. I almost enjoyed it.”
“Now you’re a different kind of villain. I’m worried that Mom will like it here and want to stay.” She said it half in jest, but Max’s answer sobered her up.
“And would that be so bad?”
“After not even a week, yes. You hardly know each other. I’d worry—”
“Ah,” Max interrupted. “We’re back t
o worrying. The Bible says, in the book of Matthew, not to worry, not about life or what to—”
“—what to wear, etc. Yet, we all worry. Do you think there’s a person alive who doesn’t worry? I mean, I was raised in the church. I’m pretty sure Mary worried when she found out she was pregnant with Jesus. Certainly, Peter worried when he denied knowing Jesus. Then, too, Matthew had plenty of things to worry about. He started out as a tax collector. He was hated. I’d sure worry if almost everybody hated me.”
“I think—” Max tried to interrupt, but Annie was on a roll. All the Sunday school lessons of the past were finally going to be put to good use. She’d use them to champion worrying.
“And, although he redeemed himself when he became one of Jesus’ followers, Matthew had plenty to worry about at the end. Didn’t he die a martyr?”
“I doubt the way he died concerned him much, as he knew his heavenly reward,” Max said calmly. “Most people don’t understand that there are two categories of worry.”
Annie shook her head. “Worry is worry. I’ve always been a worrier. I don’t know how to change.”
“Your mom says you’re the daughter who tries to carry the world on your shoulders.”
“Hmm,” Annie said. “So, according to you, Joe wears his heart on his sleeve and now I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.”
“And both are burdens I’d like to help ease.”
Yup, here was the preacher, finally showing up. Max was so engaged, he actually started eating. After a few bites, he said, “There’s the worry that leads to anxiety—anxiety so crippling that one ceases to function in a healthy manner. Then, there’s worry that inspires one to action. That’s the kind of worry that had you and my son out looking for us last night. That worry might best be called concern.”
“I’d call last night downright fear.”
“I was never afraid. I knew somebody would find us and help.”
“I think it would be easier for you not to worry, because you’re from here and know everybody. My mom and I don’t know anyone, not really.”
“If you know God, then it doesn’t matter where you are. He is there and He’s all you need. Have you been praying?”
Annie opened her mouth and slowly shook her head. “Praying hasn’t been easy for me, lately,” she admitted. Then, she tried to think about how to steer the conversation back to something safe. Even talking about worry would be better than talking about why she wasn’t comfortable praying.
She needn’t have worried. The flash of headlight beams momentarily lit up the living room, saving her from having to say anything except, “I think Mom’s back.”
“No, it’s the neighbors across the street. They attend church but leave the minute the last amen is said. They’re just in time though,” Max said. “You were worried about how to respond. Now you don’t have to.”
“Oh, finish your meat loaf.”
Max chuckled and did just that while filling her in on the across-the-street neighbors. Annie settled back on the couch and found a comfortable spot. Closing her eyes, she acknowledged that she might have missed many Wednesday night services because of fatigue and choice, but for the first time in years, she actually acknowledged that Wednesday night services even existed.
A life outside of work and family existed.
One she suddenly realized she missed.
* * * * *
“She sure can sleep.” Joe sat in the rocking chair by his dad’s kitchen door and rocked back and forth. He told himself that the movement was what kept him awake. But he knew the truth. The woman sleeping on his dad’s couch had his attention and then some.
He was amazed and conflicted by his feelings. He could sit here and watch her all evening.
“You should head home,” Max said, interrupting Joe’s thoughts. “Willa’s here. She brought the medicine, and she’ll take care of me. I’m fine. You, on the other hand, look like you’re half-dead.”
Half-dead didn’t begin to describe the way Joe felt. His eyes felt dry, his head ached dully, and every once in a while he zoned out completely. He’d done it during church tonight. He’d been sitting straight up, he knew that. His eyes had been open, he knew that. His Bible lay open to Romans, he knew that. What he hadn’t realized was when class ended. Instead, while the people around him gathered their belongings, corralled kids, and said their good-byes, he’d just sat there, unmoving, until Frank, also looking fatigued, said, “Time to head home, boy.”
If Joe didn’t do something, he’d go from half-dead to sound asleep now, at his father’s house. He cleared his throat and said, “Every single person asked about you.”
What he didn’t tell his father, because he didn’t need any more razzing, was how many people asked him about Annie and why he hadn’t brought her to church.
“And I was mentioned in the prayer,” Max said.
“Two of them,” Aunt Margaret called from the kitchen.
“I only heard one,” Joe muttered.
“You were sleeping during the second one.” Willa entered the room, water glass in hand. She handed it off to Max and gazed down at Annie before sweeping up Max’s dirty dishes. “Not quite as soundly as my daughter, though.”
“The neighbors across the street came home,” Max said. “She thought it was you and went all quiet. Then she promptly fell asleep while I was talking—right in the middle of a sentence. I wasn’t even preaching.”
“No one would fall asleep during one of your sermons.” Margaret came into the room and shook her head as if appalled by the thought. “They wouldn’t dare.”
“Should we just cover her up, leave her here?” Joe asked.
“No, we definitely can’t leave her here,” Willa said. “She’s never liked surprises, and although Max is winning her over, she’s still not completely convinced that he isn’t the boogeyman. I’ll wake her up, and we’ll head over to Margaret’s.”
“Oh, we chatted tonight,” Max said. “I’ve won her over.”
“I can carry her to Margaret’s,” Joe offered.
Both his father and Willa looked at him as if he’d spouted two heads.
“You awake enough?” his father asked.
“She wouldn’t like that a bit,” Willa said. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer.” She sat on the edge of the couch and gently pushed Annie’s bangs away from her forehead. Then Willa gave a little chuckle and pulled the kitten from the crook of Annie’s elbow. “I’m glad this little fellow didn’t get squished.”
“Make sure she changes her clothes before she crawls into bed,” Max said, nodding at Annie. “Kittens that young have no control.”
Willa only tsked.
Annie mumbled something, and Joe wished he could hear her words.
“I know, baby,” Willa said. “And I’m sorry to wake you, but we need to head home.”
Annie sat up. Her hair was back to the mussed stage that Joe was starting to think was his favorite look. This time, when she spoke, Joe could hear her words.
To his surprise, he didn’t like them one bit.
“Home, Mom? Really? Can we go home?”
Chapter Thirteen
There was a time, Joe thought wryly, when he could do what he wanted, when he wanted, and how he wanted—unless someone needed his veterinary services.
Somehow, he’d lost that carefree existence.
And this morning, when his eyes opened at five, he knew exactly who to blame: a golden-haired woman who’d landed—uninvited—in the middle of his life and now occupied almost all of his thoughts.
If he could get her out of his mind, he could go back to sleep and wake up at a decent hour, like seven.
Instead, he put on shorts and a T-shirt, let Jacko out into the backyard after making sure he had plenty of food and water, and headed toward 138th Street and a private drive called Mr. Goodcents Subs and Pastas.
What he really wanted to do was go to his dad’s and wait until Annie showed up.
That, of cours
e, made no sense.
Only a few souls were out at this ridiculous hour on a Thursday morning. Before becoming a vet, Joe had never been particularly fond of the early morning sun, but he’d learned long ago that being a vet wasn’t a nine-to-five job, and that sometimes, if he wanted to work out, he needed to be there at five thirty when the facility opened.
Right now he had two goals: work up a sweat and work out his feelings for Annie Jamison. Last night, when she’d mumbled her happiness about going home, he’d felt something he’d not felt for a long time.
Fear.
Parking was plentiful at this early hour. The front desk attendant was on the phone, so Joe didn’t have to answer questions or make small talk. He signed in and headed for the locker room to stow his belongings and then went into the weight room.
Fifteen leg presses and fifteen lying leg curls later, every bone in his body was awake and complaining and his mind really wasn’t on the fifteen seated cable rows he was about to do.
So, Annie wanted to go home. Well, he couldn’t blame her. Her adventures here in Bonner Springs couldn’t count as fun. Plus, judging by the one-sided phone calls he’d been privy to, Annie was failing miserably at the task assigned to her: to bring her mother home. Willa would be here quite a bit longer, maybe weeks, and she was quite happy fussing over Max.
It almost made Joe believe in love at first sight.
Almost.
Time spent on the flat bench press convinced him that thinking about love at first sight and working out both caused pain.
He decided to stop thinking about Annie.
Instead, he’d think about all the things he had to do. First, how to keep his practice going. This meant he needed to find a personable receptionist who wasn’t always thinking about greener pastures. Then, too, he wasn’t the only veterinarian in town—plus he was the new kid on the block. Sometimes he had hours in his schedule without business, hours that worried him.
Unfortunately, thinking about work only proved that work was about the only thing he’d been thinking about for the last two years. He needed a life. He needed to date now and then and have fun. And, sad to say, his social life was a small congregation with only two or three single women, all of whom he’d known forever and who felt more like sisters than potential dates. Joe looked around the gym. It was pretty empty, but even if it were full, he doubted he’d see even one woman who appealed to him like Annie did.