by Donna Alward
They continued through the barn, and the dogs went crazy when they saw Brendan. With easy confidence, he moved into each pen and opened the door out to the run.
There were three dogs in residence, a black Lab with only three legs, which had been found out wandering. The cocker spaniel, Millie, had been brought in because her owner couldn’t afford the diabetes medication. The puppy was of an unknown breed. A week ago he’d been a matted and flea-infested mess, wary of people. Now he gamboled after Brendan.
“I don’t suppose you want to take one home?” Nora asked ruefully. “The dog with three legs?”
“You had me pegged right as a guy who wouldn’t even have a plant.”
It was a warning to her, whether he knew it or not.
Not a man to pin any kind of romantic dream on.
But she already knew that. She was so done with romantic dreams. Though there was something about being dipped over a man’s arm that could breathe them back to life in anyone, even a more hardened soul than her.
And there was something about seeing him with animals that told the truth about who and what he was, even if he didn’t know that himself.
“You’ll have no trouble finding a home for this little guy,” he said of the enthusiastic puppy. “I’m not so sure about Long John Silver over there. Really, you should have a plan.”
“I don’t want a plan!” she said. “What? After six months get rid of him? How could I walk by that cage every day if time was counting down?”
“That sounds a bit like attachment to me.”
“Well, it isn’t!”
It felt so much more powerful to be annoyed with him than it had felt being in his arms.
Finally, they arrived at a large stack of hay, and without being told, Brendan got a wheelbarrow and began to pull bales down. Nora went back to cleaning cages, putting in food and changing water.
Her annoyance, unfortunately, could not be sustained in light of how hard he was working for her. The awareness was roaring in her ears, sizzling through her veins. She could not help sneaking peeks at him. There was a certain poetry to a male body hard at work, and she was sworn off romance, not dead! Still, these kind of temptations—dancing, laughing, watching him pull eighty-pound bales down and shift them effortlessly to the wheelbarrow—were going to chip away at her resolve.
Thankfully, her cell phone buzzed, and when she took the call there was a rescue she needed to go to. That was going to do double duty by rescuing her from the tingles on her skin and on her lips.
“Gotta go,” she said, her tone deliberately breezy. “Iguana found on the loose in Hansen Lakeside Park.” She ordered herself to thank him, and then to tell him not to come back. Diplomatically, of course. Nothing here that Luke and I can’t handle, especially now that school is out for the summer.
But, weakling that she was, she found herself looking at Brendan’s lips. She decided she needed to think about it before doing something rash and irrevocable.
Which probably described her decision to kiss Brendan Grant! Rash and irrevocable. Everything she did around him, from here on out, had to be measured and thought out carefully.
Everything she did around him now? From here on out? Hmm, not exactly the thoughts of a woman who was going to look at a man and tell him never to come back!
* * *
Three days later, Nora was scowling at her computer screen. Iguanas did eat dark, leafy greens. Except not the one she had. He was probably ill, and his owner had not been able to afford the vet bills. She made a note to pack up the iguana to take to her appointment with Dr. Bentley this afternoon. The vet was good enough to donate a few minutes to the animal shelter one day every week, and could also be counted on for emergencies.
She was aware that even as she did these routine tasks, her mind was not on them.
It was on Brendan Grant. He had brought his grandmother out every day for a few minutes, quite early in the morning, before he had to be at the office.
Nora couldn’t very well tell him to stay away when Deedee wanted to see Charlie, refused to take him home, and couldn’t drive herself.
Without being asked, without checking in, Brendan headed for the barn, and every morning after he left, Nora went out to see all the bales moved, the horse pen cleaned, the large bags of dog food organized, the aisle swept.
He didn’t come to the house.
And she didn’t go out. In fact, knowing now what time he came, she would sometimes scurry for cover just as he was pulling into the driveway.
Though it felt as if she was fighting her inner demons. That spontaneous dance haunted her. As did the laughter. And his lips on hers. He was out there right now. She could just go down...
She heard the front door open, flicked her curtain back. She saw Deedee making her slow way back to the car, Luke holding her arm and helping her in. Brendan was nowhere in sight, but if she waited just a minute, Nora knew that he would be.
Then Luke came back in the house, and she heard him taking the stairs two at a time. She quickly flicked the curtain down and stared at her computer screen.
He stopped off in his room, and when he came up behind her a minute later, Charlie was drooping over Luke’s crossed arms as if doing an impression of a leopard in a tree.
“Do the animals ever talk to you?” her nephew asked in a troubled voice, scratching Charlie’s ears. “I mean, not in words, but you get, like, a feeling from them and know exactly what they’re thinking?”
“Give me an example.”
He took a deep breath. “Charlie is ready to go. He’s tired. And he hurts. And he’s a cat. Cats are clean. He doesn’t want to be losing control of himself, if you know what I mean. You know why he’s staying?”
She shook her head.
“Because he loves her. Deedee. And she’s not ready to let him go.”
In the past few days it was becoming apparent to Nora that Luke shared her gift, only his was a more intense version. Were animals really talking to him? Or was it just one more example of how her crazy decisions were affecting him?
Karen would not have approved of Luke being certain he knew what animals were thinking! She had certainly never approved of Nora’s abilities.
“Remember Mr. Grant said I had to make a mend?”
Nora nodded, not correcting him that it was “amends.”
“That’s how I’m going to do it. By getting her ready.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know. But she thinks it’s by mowing her lawn. I’m going to bring Ranger with me.”
Nora gazed at her nephew, and he had a look of resolve on his face. Not like a boy, but a man.
For the first time in a long, long time, Nora didn’t feel worried, even though to someone looking in it might seem as if she should.
Luke was communicating with animals! Or thought he was. That probably needed a psychiatrist, not what she was feeling.
He was taking on the gargantuan task of getting Deedee ready to lose her pet. It was a failure getting ready to happen.
Protect him.
But this was probably why her sister had wanted her and Vance as Luke’s guardians. Because Nora felt proud of him for taking on the impossible. And as if there was a slim hope, after all, that her nephew was going to leave the world better than he found it.
Somehow the changes in Luke and her own feeling of optimism seemed linked, not to the wonderful summer weather they were suddenly enjoying, but to this man who was in her life while not being in it.
It was all beginning to feel like the scariest thing that had ever happened to her. In that nice scary way like anticipating someone jumping out from behind a bush at you on Halloween, or riding the biggest roller coaster at the amusement park.
Luke went to the window. “Brendan’s com
ing up from the barn now. I’ll catch a ride with him into town and mow Deedee’s grass.”
Nora wanted to scream no, the very same way she wanted to scream no as the roller coaster was inching up that final climb. But just like then, it felt as if it was already too late. She could see all their lives getting more and more tangled together.
Besides, when she looked at the simple bravery revealed in her nephew’s face, Nora knew she had to be as brave as he was.
She joined him at the window and saw Brendan striding across her yard.
“He must change for work later,” she said out loud, admiring the way faded jeans clung to his legs, to the leanness of his hips. A plaid shirt was tucked into his belt, but open at the throat. Her eyes skittered to the firm line of Brendan’s lips.
She had to be brave. Whether she wanted to be or not.
“It’s Saturday,” Luke chided her.
“Oh. Now that you’re on summer holidays, I forget sometimes.”
“That’s my flaky aunt. Who doesn’t know what day it is?” But he said it with gruff affection, then added, “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
Luke put his hand on her shoulder, dropped a casual kiss on her cheek. He squinted at the computer screen.
“It’s not because we’re giving him the wrong diet. Iggy ate something,” he said.
“Iggy? Luke, we try not to name the animals.”
“It’s not really a name, just short for iguana. Dr. Bentley’s going to have to x-ray him. How could an iguana swallow a house?”
And on that note, her nephew was gone, Ranger peeking out his hoodie pocket. He went back outside, and moments later, she heard him calling, “Brendan? I’ll come with you. I’m going to mow Deedee’s lawn. That’s if Deedee can look after my kitten.”
Nora twitched back the curtain just in time to see Luke hand Ranger to Deedee.
The old woman stared at the kitten. For a moment, she looked mad, as if she might give it back. But then her face softened, and she tucked Ranger into her breast and got into the car.
Brendan looked up at her, as if he’d known she was watching all along. He gave her a small smile and a thumbs-up. As if they were raising this boy together. She let the curtain fall back into place.
CHAPTER TWELVE
MIDAFTERNOON, NORA WAS thinking of Luke’s words while she stood in Dr. Bentley’s office looking at the X-ray of Iggy’s digestive tract, and not his words about mowing the lawn, either. About how an iguana could swallow a house. The X-ray clearly showed a little toy house lodged in the reptile’s digestive system.
“An iguana will eat anything,” Dr. Bentley said.
The vet donated many of his services to the animal shelter, but was not volunteering an operation on an iguana, and she couldn’t ask. Now what? They had a reserve fund, but to use it for an expensive procedure for an animal she had no hope of finding a home for?
She remembered being thankful, just days ago, that she had never had to face this situation.
Maybe you should have a plan. She hated it that Brendan Grant had been right. He had that look of a man who was always right. Who was logical and thought things through and never did anything impulsive or irrevocable.
We would be a well-balanced team, she thought, before she could stop herself.
“I need a minute to think,” she said.
“Take your time.”
She wrestled Iggy back into his cage and lugged him out to the waiting room. She had three choices. She could bring him home to die. She could have the vet speed up the process, which would be more humane. Or she could find the money for the procedure.
Her cell phone rang and she looked at the number coming in.
“Hey, Luke,” she said, trying to strip the conflict she was feeling from her voice.
“It’s not Luke. I borrowed his phone.”
“Why?” It was him, the one who was always right. Maybe she’d call him that. Mr. Right. Then again, maybe not. She did not want to be thinking of Brendan Grant as Mr. Right in any context.
There was no Mr. Right! It was a fairy tale to keep females from empowering themselves! Ditto for thinking she was falling in love with him. Just another fairy tale.
“Because we’re standing out in Deedee’s yard and he handed it to me.” A pause, and his voice lowered. “And because I wasn’t sure if you would answer if you saw it was me.”
“What would make you say that?” she said cautiously.
“I thought you were avoiding me.”
Was she that obvious? It was embarrassing, really.
“Why would I be avoiding you?” she asked.
Silence. She thought of the boldness of taking his lips with her own, and shivered. She thought of the word love coming unbidden to her after she had kissed him.
He moved on without answering the question. They both knew exactly why she was avoiding him.
“I told Luke I’d take him for a milkshake. He did Deedee’s lawn and then started on her shrub beds. They’re pretty overgrown. He’s worked really hard. I can’t believe you’ve lived here six months and not been to the Moo Factory. His exact words were ‘we never do anything fun.’”
“We do fun things,” she protested.
“Oh, yeah? Like what?”
We played a few hands of poker, once.
She knew it said something simply awful about her life with her nephew that, aside from that, nothing came to mind.
“We rented Star Wars last week.”
“Really? That sounds like fun redefined.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“It comes naturally to me, like breathing.”
“We play Scrabble,” she said triumphantly. “When I can get him away from the computer.” Too late, she remembered they had invited Brendan to play Scrabble. He’d been unimpressed.
“Fun intensified.”
She remembered his face that evening Luke had suggested Scrabble. But she was on a mission now to prove they had fun.
“And Luke showed me how to play virtual bowling!”
“Wow!”
It let her know how wise her avoidance strategy was. He was sarcastic. It was hard to hold that fault in the forefront, though, in light of his good deed. He was taking her nephew for ice cream.
“I bet you threw the bowling ball backward.”
“How could you know that?”
“Psychic. That should help me fit right in on the farm.”
“Oh!”
“I warned you. Sarcastic.”
“How did you really know? About the bowling ball?”
“I’ve played that game.”
“Oh, so you threw the ball backward?”
“No.” Suddenly he seemed impatient with the conversation. “Anyway, I thought I should ask your permission before I took Luke for ice cream.”
It was so respectful it could make a woman forgive sarcasm. Or at least one who did not have her guard way up.
“That wasn’t necessary. Of course you can take him.” Ridiculous to somehow feel deflated that she wasn’t being invited.
Then Brendan said, “Luke would like you to come with us.”
Not him. Luke.
She looked at the sick iguana. And suddenly was overcome by weakness, not wanting to have to make this decision herself.
“I’m at the vet’s office with Iggy, an iguana who has eaten something.”
“Iggy,” Brendan repeated slowly. “I thought you told me you didn’t name them?”
“Who would get attached to an iguana?” she said, but the truth was maybe she already was. She didn’t want to bring him home to die. Or put him to sleep.
She told Brendan what was going on. It was his chance to say I told you so, but he didn’t, and she fe
lt it was another test he’d passed.
Another one that she hadn’t meant to give him.
“You have a contingency fund?” he asked.
“Yes, but Brendan, that money would be so much better used educating people not to buy iguanas as pets. And the contingency fund isn’t huge. What if I spend it on him, and then have an emergency next week?”
“On something with a little more of a cute factor than an iguana?”
She didn’t mean to, but she started to cry. And she wasn’t sure if it was because of the damned iguana that she’d been foolish enough to accept a name for, or because Brendan had gone virtual bowling with someone else who had thrown the ball the wrong way.
Or because it wasn’t his idea to ask her out for ice cream.
* * *
It was Becky he’d played that silly game with. At a Christmas function? Everyone having hysterics at her lack of coordination.
He realized, holding the phone, that this was the first time he’d had a memory of Becky that made him feel anything. It was as if, after she died, he had started focusing on his failure to protect her, and that had erased all the good things from his mind.
But somewhere, had he also thought that thinking of the good would be that thing? That thing that would break him wide-open?
His contemplation of his treacherous inner landscape was cut blessedly short when Brendan heard a soft snuffling noise on the other end of the phone line. He tried to dismiss it as static, but the hair on the back of his neck prickled.
Maybe he was psychic. “Are you crying?”
The truth was his inner landscape seemed less treacherous than that.
The truth was he knew Nora Anderson had been avoiding him. And the truth was, he knew it had been a good thing. For them to avoid each other. Look at how quickly his intention to be a Good Samaritan by making her laugh had become complicated. By her hips under his hands. And then by her lips. On his.
“N-n-no.”
But she was. Crying. Was it over an iguana? He was pretty sure she had said she was used to dealing with tragedy with animals. She had strategies for not getting attached.