Painted Petals

by Kassandra Lea

  The drive to The Ark was short, yet felt like an eternity. With each mile that fell away Asher’s wanting grew stronger, imaging how he would sweep Clara up in his embrace and give her a lip lock the likes of which she’d never had. But when he reached the clinic and practically jumped out of his truck, he was dismayed to find a notice on the door stating that the clinic was closed until later unless there was an emergency. Did his craving to state his love qualify as an emergency? Asher toyed with the idea of calling up Clara again, worried it might backfire, and ditched the idea completely.

  Disheartened he climbed back into his pickup and pointed it toward home.

  Chapter 9

  Meanwhile

  “I love this,” Morty said as he cradled a gray and white cat by the name of Cicero.

  “It really is a fabulous idea,” Miss Maggie agreed, draping the red cloth over the wall. “I’m on the verge of wanting to adopt this little fella myself.” She scratched the cat’s chin. “Shame my landlord is against pets.”

  “What about for the grandkids?” suggested Clara, adding a string of paper hearts to their display. “Would they enjoy a pet?”

  “If I can convince their parents, maybe.”

  Clara stepped back, hands on her hips, to admire their work. “What do you think?”

  Morty crunched on a sugar cookie, leaving a dusting of crumbs on Cicero. “These are delicious. Seriously, if you ever give up on being a vet you had better open a bakery.”

  “Allow me,” Miss Maggie said, plucking a purple heart from the plate. She took a bite, closing her eyes. “Oh, you are going to fatten up that cowboy.”

  “Guys.”

  With Miss Maggie at her side, Clara had arrived at the shelter at the agreed upon time, a box in her arms loaded down with all the things she required to execute her plan. Morty suggested they use his small office, and he shuffled the furniture around to make room, shoving his desk up against the wall until Clara suggested they clear it off and use it as a prop. It was the proper height off the ground and would provide them with an excellent place to put the animals. So Morty packed up his laptop and the paperwork and ditched it all in an empty kennel. From there the cloth was hung, draped over the desk to conceal it and to create a red backdrop. There were hearts and a string of white lights along with a fluffy heart-shaped pillow Clara bought last year on clearance because it was just too soft to pass up.

  “Now,” she said, accepting Cicero from Morty and brushing the remnants of cookie from his fur, “we take the star of our photo and place him here.” She settled him on the covered desktop. Cicero stayed, tail twitching, as Clara dug through the box. She produced a jester style collar in pinks, reds, and white with little heart-shaped bells on the ends. Cicero let her slip it on with little fuss. “There. Snap a few shots, make sure we get some good ones, including a picture of him playing, and bam, move on to the next critter. At the end, we can all sit down and write up their profiles. What do you say? Should we get the ball rolling?”

  “Yes,” Morty nodded. “With Valentine’s Day coming up I should have thought about this. Dating profiles for homeless pets! Here’s to hoping at least a few of them manage to find a fitting home.”

  They got down to work, with Morty handling the animals and Miss Maggie picking out the outfits. Clara took the photos with Morty’s old camera. The dogs and cats were easy, except for a one little terrier who refused to sit still, a bursting bundle of energy. Clara tried her best to capture his enthusiasm for life, trying to think of someone in town who could use such a hyper dog. The bunnies got the privilege of wearing Tatters’ bowties. The black and white lop-ear looked smashing in red. His name was Marbles and he tugged at her heartstrings, with his cute nose and his fluffy tail. She wanted to take him home immediately but worry that Tatters would feel put out kept her from making the commitment. Tatters was and always would be her main man.

  The hours flew by. The photoshoot turned out to be more fun than any of them planned. A mastiff mix pulled down the cloth, winding up covered in the fabric, a picture Clara knew for a fact would make it onto the so-called dating profile as it was just too cute to pass on. The only problem they encountered was with the birds. Neither of them were fond of their outfits and one of them refusing to stay in place long enough for the photo to be taken. Miss Maggie proposed they included a side note about the bird’s shyness. Morty readily agreed.

  When they broke for lunch, and Clara having to leave soon for her two appointments, she checked her phone to shoot a quick text message to Violet. That’s when she noticed the missed call from Asher. Her heart did a summersault at the sight of his name. Seeing his name on her screen sent a shot of warmth through her, but also stirred the anxiety she’d been struggling with.

  Clara took a quick look around, then reached into her sweater, plucking a neatly folded piece of paper from where she tucked it into her bra strap. To the untrained eye it was just a receipt from the feed store and when she discovered it tucked away in the wreath on her front door last night she suspected it was little more than a piece of trash. Clara unfolded it, reading for the millionth time the words he left her.

  People are always wishing on stars, but I’m the lucky one, because my star fell to earth and lights my every moment.

  Should she call him back? Hitting the recall button, her hand shaking, Clara waited for him to answer.

  He loves me. He loves me not. Let me pick petals to see.

  “Sweetheart,” he said, his voice coming over the line.

  Clara slipped out, sinking down on a bench outside the shelter, never mind the light dusting of snow atop it. His voice, hearing it was enough to ease all her troubles.

  “Clara?”

  “Your sister invited us to dinner,” she blurted out, bypassing all the other things she wanted to say. “Tonight. Please say you’ll come.”

  “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  She laughed lightly. “I’d like to see that. It’s at six.”

  “Should I swing by and pick you up?”

  Clara chewed her bottom lip. Say yes, do it. Imagine him showing up at your door dressed in a tux…Wait, does he even own a tux? I bet he looks amazing when he’s all cleaned up, dressed to the nines. It’ll be like in those movies you’re always watching while hugging a pillow…May I suggest avoiding the tears this time around, however?

  “Clara, dear?”

  Realizing she zoned out Clara quickly responded, “No.” She slumped against the bench, drawing random doodles in the trace of snow. “I have patients to see to and am currently here at the shelter helping Morty. I’ll have just enough time to get ready, plus, I have to grab the dessert I promised Violet. I can meet you there, if that’s okay?”

  “If you like.”

  Did he sound upset? Good, let him feel as crappy as I have the last day or so. “I look forward to seeing you. I’ve missed you. I got your note. I love it.” A smile played across her lips.

  “I’m glad. Good. I’ve missed you, too.” There was a pause, then Asher spoke, “And Clara, I…” The sentence went unfinished. “Can we talk tonight?”

  “Yes,” her voice trembled, betraying her unease. Was he going to break her heart?

  The call ended. Clara remained on the bench, running her thumb in tight little circles on the phone’s screen, eyes unfocused as her mind entertained a series of scenarios, most of which left her alone and lying in bed. What happened to my optimism? Give him the benefit of the doubt. Clara sighed, shoved the device in her pocket, and returned to her friends. Alas, by the hands of the clock she had to get on the road. Work beckoned. Back in the office Morty and Miss Maggie were playing with a gray-faced hound, her tail wagging a mile a minute.

  “My apologies guys, I have to be on my way to the clinic. Will you be okay without me or should we pick this up later?”

  Morty scratched the hound, Lady, under the chin. “I think we can finish up here. What say you, Miss Maggie?”

  “There’s what, two or three left to d
o? You go ahead, dear.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Miss Maggie took hold of her hands, her eyes sparkling. “Forgive me, I overheard you on the phone with Asher. Sounds like you two have plans tonight, so yes, go. The three of us can work on the bios tomorrow. After all, we must get them up as soon as possible.” She leaned forward, winking at Clara. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Heat flared in Clara’s cheeks as she blushed. She quickly said her goodbyes and headed out, spotting the fire engine hue of her cheeks in the rearview mirror. Miss Maggie had the power of making her feel like a schoolgirl caught up in a crush. Clara had so far avoided going to bed with Asher, not entirely sure she was ready. Taking that step meant things were getting serious. Oh, but to strip Asher of his jeans, see what he was rocking underneath there…Clara powered down the window, inviting in the winter air.

  She banished all thoughts of Asher as she pulled into parking lot for The Ark. There was business to attend to, fantasizing could wait until later, like when she was in the shower and could let her fingers lead the way to a touch of personal enjoyment.

  The next two hours passed with a different form of help for animals. A dog getting its ears cleaned, teeth brushed, and nails clipped. An ultrasound to check for a potential pregnancy for a cat; which Clara was happy to find was negative, thinking of all the unwanted cats waiting in Morty’s shelter. A woman popped in to see if Clara had any information on guinea pigs, muttering about her kids wanting a pet and wanting to know if the little rodents made good first pets. Clara dug up a pamphlet and directed the woman to the shelter, keeping her fingers crossed.

  She stuck the tired notice on the front door, locked up, and jogged to her house. On the way in she grabbed the mail, tossing it casually on the table in the foyer. Tatters was laying across the bottom step of the staircase. He twitched his nose as Clara turned toward the kitchen. She filled his bowl, also giving him fresh water. The sound of food brought her small dog-sized rabbit hopping into the room.

  “Sorry, love, but I’m going out for the night. You’ll have to look after yourself.” She kissed him between the ears.

  Upstairs in her bedroom she twisted the knob on the shower, ditched her dirty clothes, covered in a carpet of animal hair, and stepped under the flow. She let her mind wander to playful places while she went through the motions of washing her hair and soaping up her body, taking a few moments to pleasure herself, wandering what it would be like to have Asher be the one touching her body. By the time she stepped out of the shower Clara found herself seriously considering the idea of spending Valentine’s night with Asher, even if they didn’t quite go all the way.

  Of course, there lingered a general feeling of unease.

  Wait and see how tonight goes, then make plans for the big day. Stop getting ahead of yourself.

  Clara picked out a dressy, yet funky-fun outfit, torn between looking nice and being comfortable. She wore black leggings with faintly colorful feathers all over, pairing them with an oversized mauve sweater. No makeup, it was one of those things she lacked in her life, so she simply dried and brushed her hair. In front of her full-length mirror Clara did a few turns, decided she looked fine, and headed back downstairs. Tatters waited at the bottom of the steps. She gave him another kiss. She was nearly out the door when she remembered the cupcakes and darted back inside to snatch the container from the counter.

  “Dr. Dickens,” yelled a familiar voice when she stepped out on her porch.

  A glance at the parking lot revealed Stewart, dancing from foot to foot. She held up a finger to let him know she’d be with him in a minute, leaving the tasty treats on her passenger seat. She hurried over to see him.

  “Evening, Doc,” Stewart said, instantly pulling off his hat and wringing it in his hands. “I was wondering if I might be able to take Dodger home soon.”

  “Let’s head inside and have a look at him.”

  Clara unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and led Stewart to the back room. Dodger lay in a bottom kennel, soulful brown eyes watching her enter the room. When the dog spied Stewart behind he let out a welcoming bark, ears pricked, tail thumping against the back wall of the cage. Clara crouched, opening the door. Dodger limped across the floor to Stewart, leaning into his owner’s legs, whimpering. It brought a smile to Clara’s lips to see the way Stewart lit up as soon as he laid hands on his beloved dog. Animal people, there were the ones that made the world go ‘round, at least as far as she was concerned. A heart willing to love and care wholly for one who could not speak for themselves, it was perhaps the greatest trait a human could possess.

  “What do you think, Doc Dickens? Can he come home?” There was silent pleading in Stewart’s eyes.

  “I think that can be arranged. Let’s go over a few things first.”

  Back in an exam room, not the one in which he’d originally brought Dodger, she went over the care required to keep Dodger healthy and on the road to healing. The biggest issues were lots of rest and relaxation for a dog that liked to go, go, go. Stewart swore up and down to watch Dodger with eagle eye precision and Clara believed him. Much like when she first met Asher, Stewart carried Dodger out to his truck. He rested the dog on the passenger seat with more care than she had the cupcakes.

  “Thank you, Doc, truly.” He kept wringing his hat, clearly a nervous habit. “I hope you’ll stick around, all things considered.”

  Clara blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, well, I just thought with Asher’s ex-girlfriend back in town…”

  Chapter 10

  Numb, that’s how Clara felt as she made her way to Violet’s house. Hearing from Stewart that Asher’s ex-girlfriend was back in town brought up a whole dose of bitterness and depression. The anxiety that had been plaguing her tightened its hold. She kept the tears at bay, swallowing down the lump that formed in her throat. The only outward evidence of her slowly crumbling strength was in her white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

  It all made sense now, the reasoning behind Asher ducking her calls and texts. Yet, he sounded so…What? How did he sound when you spoke? He called me sweetheart and it felt like he meant it. At the same time, however, there was something he wanted to say. Remember, he wants to talk. The question then, I suppose, is do I want to talk to him? Do I want to go through this a second time? Just when Clara believed she had broken free of the agony of her last relationship, here she was facing the same stark reality. And boy, it cut deep. One of the things she kept from Asher when talking about her ex was the reasoning behind their breakup. Hindsight, she should have told him. Things might have turned out differently.

  Violet lived with her husband in a quaint two-story house painted lavender with teal trim. Clara had stopped by once with Asher to drop off a dish Violet left at his place and that was the first glimpse Clara got into the world of Asher’s beloved sister. The woman loved color. Bold, bright colors. And she used them throughout the interior. Rumor had it that Violet’s garden was an equally impressive array of colors, which Clara had been looking forward to witnessing. She pulled into the driveway, then decided to back out and park along the curb. That way, if it came down to it, she could beat a hasty retreat without fear of Asher having parked her in.

  Clara shut off the engine, listening to it tick as she sat there staring out the windshield. A large part of her wanted to twist the key and race away, just go home and fall into bed for a good cry and cuddle with Tatters. Manners, on the other hand, dictated she should stay, keep her word. Besides, she didn’t want the cupcakes hanging around the house, not in her current mood. Overindulgence only ever felt wonderful while in the moment. Afterward, a touch of self-loathing would wash in.

  “You can do this,” she said as she tried to boost her courage. “Go in, act like everything is okay, leave with an excuse that you have to check on a patient that had surgery. No one will know Stewart picked up Dodger already.” She slumped against the seat, hands in her lap. “Yes, I think I can muster up the en
ergy for this.”

  Clara gathered the sweet treats and headed for the front door. Violet still had strands of Christmas lights up, unlit except for a blue strand outlining a big window. Their soft glow provided Clara with enough light to navigate the walkway, salt crunching under her boots. She had beat Asher and that sent her mind down the lane of dark doubt. Was he currently with her? Had he been with her when Clara called him earlier?

  She knocked, the door almost immediately opened to reveal a beaming Violet. “You’re here. Excellent.”

  “And I brought dessert.”

  “Oh, these look absolutely decadent,” Violet said with enthusiasm. “Come, come. Let me take your coat.”

  Swiftly Violet deposited the container on the arm of a nearby sofa, then gracefully took Clara’s coat and stashed it in a closet. She linked arms with Clara and the two headed for the kitchen. The house smelled heavenly. Clara’s stomach growled. From their previous lunch date Clara knew Violet’s husband, Ramon, was a hell of a cook, having landed a chef position at a fancy restaurant in the next town over. It was a bit of a commute for him, but as he said, Sugarbush was Violet’s home and he had taken a shine to it as well. It made Clara long for family. Her parents were deceased and there were no siblings in the picture. Being with Asher…

  “Ramon, look who’s here,” Violet announced as the stepped into the kitchen. Meat sizzled in a frying pan, water boiled in a pot. “And check out these cupcakes, I can feel the weight just looking at them.”

  Ramon stepped away from the stove long enough to give Clara a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. Another jolt of pain shot through her heart.

  “Welcome,” Ramon said. “I hope you brought your appetite.”

  Whether she possessed any desire to eat, despite her stomach’s empty rumblings, remained to be seen. With any luck the food would taste too wonderful to pass up, and if tasted anything like it smelled, Clara knew she was in for a treat.