Painted Petals

by Kassandra Lea

  She gave Morty a little wave, but remained in the background until he finished up. All over the office space were the adorable adoption profiles Morty and Miss Maggie finished. Clara had seen a few of them around town taped to store windows and streetlights alike. It seemed to have done the trick. She stopped before the bulletin board to read a few of them.

  In a red cutout paper heart, she spied the picture of an Australian Cattle Dog, just the sort of breed she expected to get snatched up quickly with all the ranches around. My name is Nooka, it read, I love to herd any animal, whether bigger or smaller than me, including kids. However, the thing I love the most is cuddling up on the sofa for some ear scratches. She moved onto the next heart, this one featuring the trio of birds. We are Sleet, Snow, and Slushy. We hope you like the cheeriness of birdsong because we love to sing! We’re also quite good at mimicking other sounds and have even learned to say a few phrases. Our flight feathers are clipped; which means we can sit on your shoulders and snooze while you read.

  The turtle was next. Bubbles is the name and I love water. I may not seem like the most thrilling pet, but I can give you just as much love and joy as something with fur. Please be willing to give me a chance! I won’t let you down.

  As Clara went along she noticed at least half the pictures had big red lip marks stamped on them. She was pondering what they meant when Morty stepped up beside her, taking a lip-print stamp and pressing it to the image of the rabbits.

  “Ah, you’re marking the lucky ones.” She counted nearly ten fliers with the lips. But there was one that caught her eye. “Biscuit is still available? I figured someone would snatch her up.”

  “Oh, my mistake,” Morty said, stamping her picture as well. “She was adopted out right before the rabbits.”

  “Did she look better?”

  “Her tail was going fast enough to shake her whole body,” Morty answered. He looked about ready to say more when someone called his name. He excused himself, leaving Clara to eye the pets still waiting for their chance. Amazingly, Morty seemed to be handling things well on his own, or did he have help?

  Clara left the shelter and bumped into a broad chested man in the process. When she looked up she grinned. “Why Bowie, I feel like it’s been ages since I saw you last and I was just thinking about you no more than an hour ago.”

  “Thinking about me, huh? Don’t go telling Asher,” he replied with a playful wink.

  She gave him a light shove. “You.”

  Bowie placed his hand where she touched him and feigned being hurt. “You wound me.”

  Clara peeked over her shoulder to be assured Morty still had a handle on things. “Do you have time to talk?” A heavy weight settled in her stomach. “There’s a topic I want to discuss and you’re the best candidate for the job.”

  A bit of the good cheer vanished from Bowie’s demeanor. ”Of course, whatever you like.” He gestured to his pickup truck, the name of his ranch artfully done on the sides. ”How about you take a seat in my nice warm truck? I’m going to run inside to grab one thing and I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  They parted and Clara headed across the lot. When she yanked open the passenger door she received a surprise bark. There, tail wagging, standing on the seats, was Biscuit. A quick look in the backseat showed a plethora of dog supplies. Clara climbed into the cab and Biscuit settled her front paws on Clara’s thigh. She scratched the mongrel behind her ears, watching Bowie head her way. The interior of the truck was comfortably warm with the engine running and the radio low on a country station. Bowie jumped in to the driver’s seat.

  “You got a dog.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I figured it was about time. I haven’t had a pooch in my life since I was a kid and I’m looking to make some changes.”

  “So I’ve heard from Asher. Are you going to sell your ranch?” she asked, thinking that a ranchless Bowie would be a lot like ranchless Asher, bored and lost. ”I might have a business venture for you, if you’re interested.”

  “I’m keeping the ranch, just looking to make a few positive changes in my life. How else am I going to be as lucky as Asher and land a girl like you?” Bowie turned a bit pink, running a finger along the curve of the steering wheel.

  His display of vulnerability touched her. She placed a friendly hand on his arm. “Any woman you fall in love with is going to be a lucky lady, Bowie. You have tons to offer.”

  “You really think so?”

  “I know so. Don’t tell Asher, but if I wasn’t madly in love with him I would be hoping for you to ask me out.”

  Bowie’s grin was big enough to rival the famed Cheshire cat of literature. “Gee, that’s mighty swell. Be that as it may, something tells me this isn’t what you had in mind.”

  How did she broach the subject without sounding like a jealous girlfriend? At this point she felt it was too late to back out and none of her lies would be convincing enough. The on it in her stomach tightened, her mouth going a bit dry. She licked her lips, burying her fingers in Biscuit’s fur. Bless Bowie for adopting the dog. The presence of an animal always managed to put her at ease. Over the years she came to understand deeply that all they sought was love, warmth, and full tummies, all of which she happily provided. People, they were the ones to watch out for, as she learned one too many times.

  “I met Shasta,” she said, picking that as a starting point.

  “Oh,” was all Bowie had to say.

  “Yes, after hearing about her from Stewart Curtis,” Clara elaborated. She proceeded to give Bowie a brief rundown of the week, excluding the details that seemed trivial. “And now I’m trying to figure out if I’ve been wasting my time. If I’ve put my hopes on the wrong man.”

  “Absolutely not.” Bowie spoke with confidence. “Asher and I grew up together, I can read him like a book. Trust me when I tell you this, Clara, he is completely and utterly smitten with you. Shasta,” Bowie shook his head, a note of disdain in his tone. “She was wrong for him from the get go, but Asher being Asher, he went for it anyway, and all it got him was misery and a broken heart. Her return is unfortunate.”

  She continued to pet Biscuit, watching out the front window as the lot slowly emptied as the initial flood of potential adopters left. “I hear their break was…devastating.”

  Bowie shrugged, pushing back the brim of his hat. “She left him for fame and fortune, as she claimed. This town is too small for her and I’ll be genuinely surprised if she stays this time.”

  Biscuit bathed her hand in kisses, little stub of a tail wiggling. “I guess I’m coming across as jealous.”

  “Means you care.”

  “Or I’m crazy.”

  “Clara,” he said her name, prompting her to meet his gaze. “Everyone handles love in a different way. We’ve all suffered broken hearts and being hurt in that way, it changes our perception of the world, of the people around us. You have fears and doubts. So does Asher, I guarantee it. I do, too. It’s part of being human. Besides, some people find a little jealousy to mean you truly care.”

  Clara sighed, then she shifted the pooch to the space between them. She leaned across the seat and kissed Bowie on the cheek.

  “Thank you. I’m glad I moved here. I’ve made incredible friends and I’m fortunate to count you among them.”

  “Likewise,” echoed Bowie. “And anytime you want to talk about Asher,” he grinned wickedly, “I have all these juicy secrets.”

  “Tempting.”

  A second wave of people arrived, three cars pulling in one right after the other. Clara ended the conversation, thanked Bowie a second time, and reminded him that Biscuit’s vet visits would be discounted so she fully expected him to stop by. Leaving the delightful warmth of his truck, Clara headed back into the shelter where she offered her services to Morty, who by now was looking a little worn down, but still jovial. With a friendly push toward the door she urged him to get some lunch, telling him to let her handle things for a while. After all, it had been her idea, the
least she could do was help. He relented, attempting to give her a rundown of any issues with the remaining hopefuls, to which she reminded him that she was their vet.

  For roughly two hours Clara fielded questions and offered advice to those who came through the door. A few people commented on the cleverness of the campaign. Clara credited Morty and Miss Maggie, leaving herself out of it. She signed off on three more adoptions, pleased to see the shelter on the verge of emptiness with Bubbles one of those remaining. Clara hated to think of everyone else getting a home, but not him, so when Morty returned, rested and thankful for her help, she informed him that should Bubbles still be there at day’s end she wanted him.

  After bidding him farewell she checked her cell phone for the umpteenth time. No messages from Asher or Miss Maggie. On a whim she rang up the clinic, getting her friend on the second ring. After a quick catchup Clara let Miss Maggie know she was going to stop in and see Stewart and Dodger before returning. Miss Maggie agreed it was a good idea.

  Stewart was pleased as punch to see her, showing Clara to the spot on the couch where he set up Dodger with a mound of blankets. The pointer wagged his tail, accepting an offered treat from Stewart. There was a bowl of water within easy reach and Clara suspected Stewart spooned dinner to the wounded pooch.

  “You do love him,” Clara remarked, giving Dodger a clean bill of health, happy with the way his cut was healing.

  “He’s my best mate,” remarked Stewart, brushing his hand along Dodger’s back.

  At his proclamation, Clara decided to pass at telling him about the mass adoption at the shelter. Stewart was a one dog kind of man. Clara thanked her lucky stars that Dodger was currently six years old, plenty of years left ahead of him, at least she hoped. Promising to stop by in two or three more days for another checkup, Clara waved to Stewart as she backed out the driveway.

  “And the wayward doctor has returned to us,” quipped Miss Maggie when she walked over the threshold.

  “At your service,” Clara bowed, flourishing her winter cap. She stashed her gear on the provided hooks, shoving her gloves and hat into the pockets. “Since it’s almost closing time you can head home, call it an early night.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Is anyone coming in?”

  Miss Maggie shook her head.

  “Then consider your duties done for the day. Go home, relax, or go see those grandkids of yours.”

  Miss Maggie gathered her things. “After the sugary treats you passed my way? I believe I’ll head home to read a book and take a well-deserved bubble bath.”

  “Now that sounds like a good idea,” Clara sighed, leaning on the counter. “Delightful enough, in fact, that once I’m done wrapping things up here I may follow your inspiration.”

  They hugged, Miss Maggie briefly kissing Clara’s cheek. “See you tomorrow, dearie.”

  “Have a good night, Miss Maggie.”

  “You, too.”

  Chapter 14

  A lamp in the corner cast adequate light in the living room that Clara could move around without worrying about stepping on Tatters or knocking a shin against the coffee table. A romantic movie played on the TV, Clara having been suckered into another of her beloved Hallmark movies. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn rested on the table along with an empty wineglass. After closing the clinic, Clara returned home, ditched the idea of a healthy dinner and poured herself a glass of wine and then headed upstairs to the bathroom. The bath she took, scented with lilac bubbles, did the trick in helping her relax. She read two chapters of her library book before regretfully climbing out, dealing quickly with the dreaded chill, and slipped on a pair of fleece pajamas. They were her favorites, purple with white and black paw prints all over them. Back downstairs she discovered a missed call from Morty informing her Bubbles was still available. Clara had herself a tortoise.

  “I hope you don’t mind having a brother,” Clara said, hoisting her fluffy man from the floor and nuzzling his soft coat. She started giggling. “Oh my, I’ve fallen into a fable. The tortoise and the hare, in a manner of speaking.”

  She popped her popcorn, poured another glass of wine, and settled in the living room with a blanket over her legs. A short time later Tatters hopped onto the couch and curled up with her.

  And that’s where she was when her cell phone began to trill. The device was sitting on the kitchen counter and she chose to ignore it. According to the clock on her cable box it was nearly nine o’clock. If it was an emergency, she figured they would call back. The phone fell silent. Clara snuggled further under her blanket, taking the night for herself.

  Then her phone started up again.

  “Crap,” she grumbled, throwing back her blanket. She made a beeline for it, plucking it from the counter as she hit the button to answer, not bothering to check the number.

  “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

  “Am I intruding?” came Asher’s reply.

  Clara leaned back, one hand on the cool countertop. “Not necessarily. What’s up?”

  “Can you come by?”

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, picking up on a note of urgency in his voice.

  “I’m not sure. Please come, it’s Candy Cane.”

  Clara’s heart skipped a beat as she pictured the foal. Was he in trouble, sick, had he fallen and injured himself?

  “I’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb’s tail,” a colloquialism she learned since moving to Sugarbush, hearing it uttered mostly by Miss Maggie when she was on her way to help with the grandkids.

  She hung up, adrenaline pumping into her veins. Not wanting to waste time with changing Clara tugged her winter boots on and slipped her coat over her pajamas. Snatching up her keys she yelled a goodbye to Tatters and bolted out the door. Since moving to Sugarbush, Clara got into the habit of keeping a bevy of vet supplies in the trunk of her SUV, mainly because home calls were not an uncommon thing. Bringing a horse or a cow into the clinic wasn’t always the easiest way to get things done, especially since The Ark wasn’t exactly set up for housing livestock; something she might want to consider changing.

  The entire way to Asher’s, she chewed on her bottom lip, hoping whatever was wrong with Candy Cane would be an easy fix.

  Chapter 15

  Asher stood in the barn waiting, peering out the window, anticipating the brightness of the SUV’s headlights as Clara pulled up the driveway. Temporarily he felt a smidge of guilt at making her think she was racing toward an emergency. He should have asked her to come without feeding her a story. Candy Cane was fine and dandy when Asher checked on him mere minutes before.

  He hated to be deceitful, but had worried his invitation would be shot down otherwise. He messed up, Asher got that, and when one made a mess the best thing to do was clean it up, especially since he wanted Clara to stick around a lot longer.

  Asher paced, hands in the pockets of his jacket, fretting. What if my fib just upsets her more? What if she rushed over here, sees Candy Cane is fine and gives me what for? Have I made things worse? At least she’ll be here. We can talk. That’ll give me a chance.

  He heard the telltale crunch of snow under tires and stopped at the door, waiting until Clara parked before he stepped out. She looked adorable, cute, in her mismatched outfit of fleece pajamas, boots, and bulky jacket. Her hair stuck out from under her hat and Asher longed to tuck it behind an ear as he leaned in for a kiss. He became acutely aware of each and every beat his heart took. It’s now or never.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, grabbing a red bag from her backseat. Asher knew it was filled with various instruments to help with her job. ”Is it serious?”

  “I think I’ll leave that job to you to decide,” he remarked. He held the door for her, feeling a mix of emotions as she swept by him, still worried by his choices, but also happy to see her. She was like the moonlight guiding him through the darkest night. He needed her, wanted her, and hoped his plan for that across. ”He’s with Nova down at the other end.”

  A
sher fell into step behind her, time seeming to move in slow motion as they traversed the barn. A few of the sleepy residents shuffled, but none appeared in their stall window begging for a treat or a loving scratch. Asher clenched his hands into fists as Clara neared the stall where he’d been housing the mare he rescued in December, her tiny foal always at her side. He attempted to swallow the lump forming in his throat, a knot tightening in his stomach.

  Clara slid the door along the track and halted, no doubt trying to process the scene. “What…”

  Asher stood at her side. Candy Cane wandered over to them, a big red bow around his neck. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” Asher said.

  “What?” Clara uttered again, glancing at him with an eyebrow cocked.

  “He’s my gift to you,” Asher explained, scratching the foal’s ears. “You made sure he arrived safely in this world, you were here the night he was born, and you named him. So it seems fitting that he should be yours, if you want him.”

  “I…”

  Asher took her by the hand. “And he isn’t the only surprise.” He led her over to a stall across the way. “Join me?”

  Inside he had set up a small table for two, complete with a red and white checked picnic blanket, but the most Valentine’s themed thing he could find. There were settings for two, each plate covered to hide the food within. Their chairs were hay bales which, with Clara’s choice of clothing, he now found this a bit problematic. He never considered he might interrupt an evening of relaxation. From a nearby stall he snatched up a saddle pad and put it down for her.

  “What’s is all this?”

  “My attempt at an apology,” he smiled sheepishly. “Is it working?”

  “Asher…”

  He sat opposite her, holding up a hand to ask that she give him a chance to say what was on his mind. “May I?”

  “Of course, go ahead.”

  Asher cleared his throat. “I wanted to say I was sorry and realized I already have, therefore I figured showing was a better choice. So please, fine with me tonight, stay, let me mend whatever fences I’ve broken. Because believe me, if there’s one thing I’m good at its fixing fences,” Asher quipped, winking.