by Freya Barker
“I’m not lea—” Rafe starts to object, but I cut him off.
“Please, Rafe. The kids.”
I wait for a tense minute, my eyes focused on my mother’s, until finally I hear Rafe gathering up the kids, mumbling to them in a hushed voice.
“She’s barely cold in her grave,” Mom says in a low voice the moment the door closes behind them. “I’m almost glad she doesn’t have to know how her own sister didn’t waste any time moving in on her family.”
“Mom, you don’t know—”
“I don’t?” Her voice is shrill as anger starts to trump disappointment. “I know plenty. I know how you threw yourself into Rafe’s arms when your sister was pregnant with his child. I know how you tried to put a wedge in their marriage three years after that, when she was expecting Spencer. I know you cared so little about us you stayed away for years—years. I thought you’d changed. Thought maybe this time you came back for the right reasons, but boy, was I wrong.”
Tears burn my eyes as every word she says slices like the crack of a whip, but I swallow them down.
“I came back because I love my sister and she wanted me here. I came back because I hoped, maybe, I could make up for time lost with you and Dad. With the kids. I never intended to…to…”
“Take her family? I can’t even stand to look at you.”
“That’s enough, Sarah.”
Her head whips around at the sound of my dad’s voice. “How did you get here?”
“Hitched a ride with Kathleen after church. After you took off like a bat out of hell when Cynthia Myers did what she does best; stir the pot. Dammit, Sarah.”
“Do you know what your precious Baby Girl did, Ed?” I flinch at the way she spits out his nickname for me, like it’s something dirty. “She finally got her claws into Rafe. Her sister’s husband. The love of Nicky’s life.”
I sink back down in my chair and drop my head in my hands. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to change her perception, and I will not betray my sister by speaking ill of her in an effort to clear my own name. I won’t do it.
“Bullshit,” Dad barks, surprising me. “He was no more the love of her life as she was his. You’d have to be blind not to see that, Sarah.”
“You knew about this?” she snaps incredulously. “This…” she agitatedly waves her hand, “…sordid affair? Oh my God, those poor children.”
I keep my head down so I don’t see Rafe coming in, but I hear him.
“The only reason the kids are upset is because you came in here making a scene,” he says sharply. “As for Taz and me, we were coming over to talk to you after we dropped the kids off at Kathleen’s. Luckily she drove up with Dad so I was able to send the kids with her. They shouldn’t have to witness their grandmother tearing apart their aunt.”
“You’re blaming this on me?”
“This scene? Hell yes,” Rafe says in a surprisingly controlled voice. “The past nine years? No. We are all to blame for those.”
“Amen.” I almost start giggling at Dad’s solemn voice. I feel like I’ve landed in the middle of a horrible daytime soap opera.
“Now sit down, I’ll get us some drinks, and maybe we can have a normal conversation.”
I look up to find Mom doing as instructed, I imagine a little stunned at Rafe’s uncharacteristic confrontation. Dad sits down beside her on the duct-taped couch and winks at me. I bite off a smile.
Rafe walks in with the Glenfiddich, the bottle of port, and four tumblers. Mom doesn’t say a word when he hands her a generous glass of port. When the rest of us have a glass of whiskey, Rafe sits back down on my armrest, his warm hand resting in my neck.
“It’s not right,” Mom mutters, shaking her head at Rafe as tears well up in her eyes. “You belong to Nicky.”
“Mom, I love you like the mother I never had, but I never belonged to Nicky. I loved her, but not the way I should’ve. What’s more, she didn’t love me like that either.”
“Don’t you dare say that about my daughter!”
“Hush, Sarah, let the man speak.”
I stay silent; knowing anything I say will only inflame the situation like it always did in the past when Mom and I had a disagreement. Maybe it’s a sign I’ve grown up.
Rafe takes a deep breath in as he gives my neck a little squeeze. “Nicky wanted this for us. I never told her how I felt about Taz, even nine years ago, but somehow she knew. We both thought we were doing the right thing, getting married, and we tried. Both of us did. This is something I never intended to share with either of you, but given the circumstances I think I should. We were filing for divorce right before Nicky had her heart attack.”
“Convenient. You say that now.” Mom is desperately hanging on to her vision of Rafe and Nicky’s marriage and part of me understands. She’s already lost a daughter. I recognize it’s pain that has her lashing out. At Rafe this time.
“Mom,” he responds gently. “I can show you the paperwork. It was by mutual agreement. We’d been living in separate bedrooms for nearly a year.”
She sniffles and Dad fishes out his linen handkerchief, handing it to her. “Can you blame her? You may as well have cheated on her.”
I can take her taking potshots at me, but she’s blaming the wrong person and I can’t let that stand. “Rafe wasn’t the one cheating,” I tell her as gently as I can. “No one is perfect. Not even Nicky. She told me the last time I was here—when she was pregnant with Spencer—she had been seeing someone. Mom,” I plead for her to look at me. “It was an impossible situation from the start. That’s why I left. It seemed an easier solution for everyone.”
She stares at me, and I hurt at the pain in her expression. “I can’t…” she starts, letting her words trail off as she shakes her head. “I need to go.” She suddenly jumps to her feet and heads for the door.
“Sarah, hold on.” Dad struggles to stand up. “You’d better not drive off and leave me stranded twice in one day.”
“Mom…” It’s no use, she’s already outside, and Rafe rushes to give Dad a hand.
A few minutes later he comes back inside.
“Maybe she shouldn’t be driving,” I suggest, a little late.
“Your dad insists they’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want them to know—I knew how much that would hurt—but I couldn’t let her blame you for something you didn’t do.”
He walks up and pulls me close; my arms automatically slip around his waist. “I know. Sometimes you need to let the wound bleed clean before it can heal.”
“I think maybe we’re all bleeding a little,” I suggest, snuggling closer.
“Yeah, it may take some time, but we’ll eventually heal. Even your Mom.”
He tugs my head back by the hair and presses a hard kiss to my lips.
“What did you tell the kids?”
“That you and Grandma had something to work out. They didn’t ask any more.”
“We have to warn my parents.”
“I already did. They don’t want to hurt the kids any more than we do.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rafe
“Give him one tonight with dinner, and make sure you finish the full course. He should start feeling better in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
I scratch the docile malamute’s big head before handing over the antibiotics to its owner. The dog was brought in with an infected wound to one of his hind legs. The owner hadn’t noticed it under the thick fur until the dog started licking it and his paw became swollen.
I walk with them to the reception area where I leave them in Lisa’s hands before turning to see who’s next.
“Mrs. Myers,” I try not to show my irritation when I greet her.
Taz mentioned a few days ago she was relieved the woman was taken off her roster of visits. It doesn’t surprise me, as soon as she’s back on her feet, I find her back in my clinic with poor Charlton.
“Dr. Thomas.”
“Why don’t you com
e back to the exam room and tell me what brings Charlton in today.” I lead the way to the back and show her into the room.
Then I leave her to fetch Jason, my intern who’s in the back monitoring the two animals we spayed this morning. I like the guy. He’s good with the animals, personable with their owners, and seems to have a steady hand and a good head on his shoulders. He should do fine with Rick Moore’s support while I’m on vacation.
He’s had a chance over the past few weeks to meet most of my regular patients, except for Charlton.
“I’d like you to step in with me. Mrs. Myers and her dog are what we’d call frequent flyers. Charlton’s a beagle and has a myriad of health issues, most related to his morbid obesity. We’ve tried for years to get him to lose the weight, but it’s impossible without his owner’s cooperation.”
“All right,” he agrees, closing the door to the crate of the tabby scheduled to be picked up later this afternoon.
The moment I close the door behind us, and finish introducing Jason, Mrs. Myers starts talking.
“He’s not eating.”
“When was the last time he had anything?” I ask, lifting the overweight dog onto the table and notice its labored breathing.
“He ate a little of his dinner Monday night, but nothing since.”
It’s Friday morning now. “Has he been drinking?” I notice a tremor in the dog’s legs as I palpate his abdomen, as if he has trouble standing.
“Not as much as usual.”
I fit my stethoscope in my ears and listen to the elevated and highly irregular heart rate, as Charlton sinks down on his butt. The poor dog’s heart is failing. I want to yell at the woman for not heeding my warnings these past years. Beagles can live a healthy twelve to fifteen years, but Charlton—at only nine years old—is at his end. Frustrated I yank the stethoscope off and gesture for Jason to have a listen. I’ve tried to explain how dangerous obesity is in dogs. Urged her to keep the dog on a strict diet.
I wait for Jason to finish his examination. When he looks at me and faintly shakes his head, I know he’s come to the same conclusion I have.
“Mrs. Myers, Charlton is not well. In fact, his heart is failing.” I try to keep my tone gentle. In spite of her disregard for my warnings over the years, there’s no denying the woman loves her dog, as tears fill her eyes.
“Can you fix him?” her voice whispers and suddenly I see her for what she is; a lonely old woman, scared to death of losing another loved one.
My heart goes out to her, even as I prepare to break hers.
“He’s suffering, Mrs. Myers. His heart is not pumping effectively, and he has trouble breathing. I can’t fix him, but I can end his pain.”
“You mean put him to sleep? Now?”
“Rafe.”
Sarah’s voice is curt when she answers the phone. We haven’t seen Taz’s parents since last Sunday, although I spoke to Ed earlier this week when he called. He mentioned Sarah would need some time, but they wanted to see the kids before we left to go camping. They’re supposed to take them for dinner tonight.
“Mom, I need your help.”
“Are the kids okay?”
“Yes. It’s not the kids; it’s Cynthia Myers. Or more accurately, her dog. Heart failure. She’s agreed for me to euthanize him, but I’m worried about her.”
“Give me ten minutes,” she snaps, hanging up immediately.
We’ve given Mrs. Myers some privacy with Charlton. Jason’s looking after a cat with a torn ear someone just brought in, and I get a head start on my notes while I wait for Sarah to get here. I hear her come in as promised ten minutes later, and listen to the muted voices in the exam room next door for a few moments before I go in.
I hate euthanizing, but when an animal is beyond help, it’s the only thing left I can do for them. Still, it makes me feel like shit when I watch heartbroken owners leave.
Sarah has an arm around Mrs. Myers as they walk to her car.
“Don’t worry about your car, Mrs. Myers,” I tell her as I follow them out. “If you’ll leave me your keys, we’ll drop it off later.”
Without a word she pulls them from her purse and hands them to me. Sarah helps her into the passenger seat and makes sure she’s buckled up before closing the door and turning to me.
“Thanks for calling.”
“Thank you for coming. I thought she could use a friend.”
She nods, letting her eyes drift to the house. “I’d still like to pick up the kids from Kathleen’s for dinner as planned, but maybe Cynthia will want to tag along, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. Mom…” I reach for her but she turns away and quickly rounds the car.
I watch her get in and start the car. I’m still standing in the same spot when Taz pulls in minutes later.
“Was that Mom?” Taz asks the moment she gets out of the SUV.
“Yeah. With Mrs. Myers. I just had to put Charlton down.”
“Oh no, what happened?” She puts a hand on my arm and I automatically reach for her, pulling her close. She tilts her head back to look up at me.
“The inevitable. His heart gave up.”
She snuggles closer. “She must be devastated. That dog was like a child to her.”
“I know. That’s why I called your mom.”
We stand there for a moment, arms around each other. “Are you done for the day?” she finally asks, stepping out of my hold.
“I have to go back and arrange for Charlton’s body to be picked up, and get Jason to help me drop off Mrs. Myers car before I hand off the clinic to him.”
“Okay. I’ll go finish laundry and start packing the kids’ stuff. Why don’t you pick up some pizza on your way through town for dinner? We can start loading up some things after we eat.”
I tag her behind the neck and press a kiss to her lips. “It’s a plan.” I watch as she walks away and call her name right before she disappears inside. “Taz?”
“Yeah?” She stops and turns, her eyebrows raised.
“I love you.”
Taz
I’m still wearing the same smile when I finish putting clean sheets on the last bed.
This way I won’t have to worry about washing them when we get back next week. I’m sure we’ll be bringing back enough laundry as it is.
It’s funny how easily Rafe and I have settled into our changed relationship. It feels natural: right. Even with the need to watch ourselves around the kids, the significance of those seemingly casual touches, the easy glances, and the frequent warm smiles, sustain me.
Still, I look forward not having to be secretive. It does make me nervous, though. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t care less what people in town might think, but I do care about my family. The kids especially. Rafe wants to talk to them early on in our trip, so we have the whole week to let them get used to the idea. I don’t disagree; I’m just worried if they don’t react favorably, this whole trip could be ruined.
I hear my phone ringing downstairs and grab the kids’ duffel bags before running downstairs. Tossing them toward the front door, I quickly snatch up the phone from the coffee table before it stops ringing.
“Hello?”
“Tomorrow night. Salty’s on the river for girls’ night,” Meredith says without introduction. “Kathleen is on board.”
I smile. “I bet she is, but we’re leaving tomorrow to go camping, remember?”
“Shit. I forgot. When are you back?”
“Next Saturday. Probably early afternoon.”
“Good, we’ll make it next Saturday then.”
I’m about to protest when it occurs to me I might be ready for a little girl time by then. “It’s a plan.”
“We’re telling the kids this weekend,” I blurt out.
“Nervous?” Meredith asks immediately, and I’m reminded how wonderful it is to have friends who seem to get you without explanation. Even Meredith, who I haven’t known all that long.
“Honestly? Shitting my pants. Rafe and I; things are
pretty good, even though we have to be very careful. If this does not go well, it could seriously complicate things.”
I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but it’s not Meredith cracking up.
“Oh, my God, you’re funny,” she finally informs me, still chuckling. “Complicate things? Honey, from what I hear your situation is about as complicated as it’s gonna get. Shee-it, girl.”
“Kathleen told you about my parents, huh?”
“Sure did, and I gotta tell you, it’s not half as bad as I expected it could be. Besides, it sounds like your man did pretty good throwing down for you like that. From what she tells me, he’s as close to them as if they were his own. He sure put it all on the line for you.”
She’s right. As far as my parents go, he stands to lose as much as I do.
“He loves me.” I can’t stop the smile sounding in my voice.
“I hate to tell you, but that’s no secret, honey. I could see it in the way he looked at you the first time I met him. Why do you think I assumed y’all were married? He looks at you the way Andrew does at me when he thinks I don’t notice. Like he’s still wondering after years how the hell he got so lucky.”
“It’s soon.” I can’t help trying to talk myself down from the high her words give me.
“It is what it is. Soon, late, it all depends on how you choose to look at things. Who the hell cares anyway? I meant what I said before, there’s something so tragically beautiful in your story. Anyone who can’t see the cataclysmic perfection of you two together is not worth your time.”
“Thanks, Meredith,” I tell her softly, thinking my sister would’ve appreciated that way of describing our messy lives. “Nicky would’ve liked you.”
There’s a brief pause before she responds. “Of course. What’s not to like?”
“Next Saturday,” I confirm with a grin.
“Pick you up at eight and prepare to get hammered. Andrew is designated driver, he’ll come pick our sorry carcasses up.”
I’ve barely hung up the phone when I hear the front door and the dogs run for it as Rafe walks in, carrying a pizza box.