Love and Hope

by Kayla Perrin

  “She’s got great instincts,” Grant continued. “She’ll be an excellent vet.”

  Jill shook her head. He just didn’t get it.

  “She’s not leaving for a few months,” Grant added. “I’ll keep an eye on her here, and I promise to let you know if I see anything worrisome, okay?”

  She looked up at him. His eyes were kind, and he really did seem to care about Rachel’s wellbeing. “I’d appreciate that,” she said, pushing her chair back and standing. “I need to get to work. Will you have Rachel call me when she gets in?”

  She was torn as she drove away. While she appreciated Grant’s promise to watch out for Rachel, she couldn’t help but feel resentful that her daughter felt more comfortable confiding in a man she barely knew rather than her own mother.

  *

  Grant looked up from his desk where he’d been reviewing inventory lists as Rachel hung up her coat and stashed her purse in the practice’s safe.

  He’d worried, when he first hired her, she wouldn’t be up to the challenge of working in a busy practice, given she’d recently finished chemotherapy. It was a grueling procedure, very tough on the body. While she’d had some difficult days, she’d proven herself capable of managing the workload. The hardest day had been during her first week when, suddenly, her eyelashes and eyebrows had fallen out, a delayed reaction from her treatment. She seemed to have rallied from that, and had recently been buoyed by the re-growth of her own hair.

  This morning she looked more tired than usual. Her skin was sallow, and the dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced. He felt a tug of concern and suddenly understood why Jill was so anxious. “You just missed your mom.”

  “She was here?” Rachel’s voice cracked with indignation.

  “What did you expect?” Grant rose from his desk. He’d been thinking about what he’d say to Rachel when she arrived. Jill’s visit had made him uneasy. Rachel had seemed to be very conscientious and mature for her twenty-two years. Putting her mother through hell by staying out all night was not the behavior he expected from her. “She’s very worried about you.”

  “You don’t know her. She is totally unreasonable.”

  “You should have told her you planned to go back to school.”

  “Wow, sounds like you two had quite the talk.”

  Grant arched an eyebrow. “Temper tantrum?”

  “I am not a child. I won’t be treated like one.”

  “Then I suggest you stop behaving like one.” Grant pointed to a chair and smiled inwardly as she stalked over to it and flopped down. She reminded him of his nephews when they were toddlers and didn’t get their own way. Come to think of it, he’d seen them do it as teenagers, too. Maybe rebellion was something you never grew out of. He wondered how he’d behave if his own parents were still alive and called him out on some perceived misconduct or another. He’d had his share of run-ins with them when he was growing up. Would he really behave differently now? He’d like to think so, but somehow …

  “Look, Rachel, I am in full support of you returning to vet college in January,” he said.

  “Thank you. At least someone is.”

  “But this isn’t something you should have kept from your mother.”

  “You don’t know what she’s like.”

  “Oh, after yesterday and today, I think I do. She has focused the last few years of her life on caring for you, and you repay that by keeping a major life decision from her, and punishing her for being concerned by staying out all night.”

  “I wasn’t punishing her. I just needed some space,” Her voice deflated a bit.

  “And a phone call saying you were all right would have been too difficult to make?” Her came back at her.

  “Okay.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ll call her and apologize.”

  “Thank you,” Grant said. “And cut her some slack. It’s not easy letting go. Your mother strikes me as a very passionate advocate.”

  “Passion is not something I’d ever associate with my mom.”

  “Spoken like a true daughter,” Grant said. “What kid wants to think about their parents as passionate people?”

  “Ewww. I wasn’t thinking passion in that way. It’s just my parents have always been so boring, so by-the-book.”

  Grant was intrigued. He hadn’t meant passion in a sexual way, either, but once Rachel mentioned it, he couldn’t shake the image of Jill, her auburn hair mussed from him running his fingers through it, and her whiskey eyes ablaze with desire. Focus. “Everyone thinks their parents are boring.”

  “No, mine really were. They had this plan for their future and it shaped everything they did. Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts who married right after graduation. Dad had started working for the auto plant during summer breaks when he was a teenager, and he was hired on full-time and worked his way up to supervisor.”

  “Those were good jobs,” Grant said.

  Rachel nodded. “They had one child, me, because to have more would have been too expensive and disruptive to their plans. After I started school, Mom became an EA so she could earn some money and still have summers off—no child care expenses, you see.”

  “Are you trying to tell me you had a lousy childhood?”

  “Oh, God, no,” Rachel said, quickly. “I had a great childhood. I had the perfect parents. We took camping trips and did Disney World one year. I’m just trying to get you to understand that it was all very scripted. Everyone did what was expected of them. There wasn’t any …”

  “Passion?”

  “Exactly. I don’t think I ever heard either of them raise their voices. My parents had their entire lives mapped out. I was in vet school. My mom had stopped working and my father was heading toward early retirement with a full pension.”

  “And then?”

  “And then he died. My father died and I got cancer.” Rachel turned her head away, but not before Grant saw the tears forming in her eyes. “I’m a shitty daughter.”

  “I don’t think so. Jill doesn’t either.”

  “Jill?” Rachel wiped the tears from her face and fought to hide her grin. “Now I really am curious about what you and Mom talked about.”

  Before he had to answer, Rachel’s cell phone buzzed with a text message. From the way she jumped to grab it from her coat pocket and the pink staining her cheeks, Grant figured it was from a boy. He waited while she typed a response.

  “Someone you met last night?” he asked.

  “How’d you—” Rachel looked panicked. “Don’t tell Mom.”

  “You can’t keep keeping secrets from her.”

  “I’ll tell her. Just not now.”

  “Then tell me.” Grant had said he’d keep an eye on Rachel. At the time he’d been referring to her health, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility—like he owed it to Jill.

  Rachel’s smile illuminated her whole face. She looked a lot like her mother. Grant was surprised to find himself wishing he could make Jill smile—the two times he’d seen her she’d been upset. He’d bet she had a beautiful smile.

  “I met up with some friends at The Ceeps, in London, last night. This guy named Austin, was working there. We started talking and … I don’t know … we just … clicked. He seemed to understand me. No judgment, no feeling sorry for me. For the first time since this whole thing started, I felt like someone was seeing me, Rachel Bennett, the person, not Rachel Bennett, the cancer patient.”

  “So is Austin a bartender or a bouncer?”

  Rachel frowned. “Speaking of judgmental …”

  “I’m just asking what he does,” Grant said defensively, unwilling to acknowledge the gnawing protective instinct sneaking up on him.

  “He’s working nights as a bartender so he can be available to pick up supply teaching gigs during the day. He graduated from teachers’ college last spring, but hasn’t been hired on full-time anywhere, yet.” She glared defiantly. “Okay?”

  Grant nodded, his apprehension only slightly assuaged.
“Okay.”

  “Okay.” Rachel stood. “I’ll let Connie know she can send in the first patient.”

  “After you call your mother.”

  *

  Jill tossed a piece of carrot each to Joss and Finnegan. Sacha glared at her from a kitchen chair. “It’s not my fault you don’t like carrots,” Jill told him, and continued chopping vegetables. She’d stopped at the market after school to pick up everything she’d need to make Rachel’s favorite dinner—cashew chicken stir-fry.

  She resisted the pull of the Pinot Grigio chilling in the fridge. She shouldn’t drink two—no, it would be three—nights in a row, and besides, she needed to have her wits about her. She’d had too much coffee already trying to compensate for her lack of sleep. Maybe later, after she and Rachel talked, she’d relax with a glass of wine—just one.

  Jill was certain Grant was behind Rachel’s message that she was sorry for not calling sooner and would be home for dinner. She was grateful for that.

  She supposed he wasn’t so bad. He had taken a risk by giving Rachel a job, after all. And he said he’d watch out for her. Okay, so he hadn’t saved Rocky. He’d probably had to become hardened to the suffering of animals. That didn’t necessarily make him a terrible person. In fact, it was a reason to sympathize with him. He probably had to make tough decisions like that all the time.

  It was hard to believe he wasn’t married. He was good-looking—well, pretty darn hot, if she was being honest with herself and inclined to think of men that way—he was a professional with his own practice, and he made a decent cup of coffee.

  The telephone rang and she checked the Caller ID. Mae. Shoot. She’d meant to call her back during one of her breaks today. She wiped her hands on her apron and picked up the receiver.

  “Hi, Mae.”

  “Jill, sweetie, how ya doin’?”

  Jill smiled at Mae’s Southern drawl—a clear indication she wasn’t from Southwestern Ontario. Mae had married a long-haul truck driver and settled in the area almost forty years ago, but she’d never managed to lose her Georgia accent. Jill wondered if it wasn’t a spark of defiance—that would be totally in character for the sixty-year-old, who’d twice battled cancer and won. They’d met at a family support group, and Mae had been her lifeline throughout Rachel’s treatment.

  “Hanging in, I guess. I’m getting used to the new school and routines. The kids are great, though. I have this little guy who is a holy terror—needs one-on-one attention. We can’t let him in a classroom with other kids—but he’s so darn cute.”

  “Only you, sweetie, would look at a baby crocodile and think it was cute.” Mae chuckled. “And how’s our girl doin’?”

  Jill wanted to tell Mae everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, but that was too complicated a conversation to have over the phone. Besides, she knew her friend would probably come down on Rachel’s side—just like Grant had. “She’s good. What’s new with you?”

  “Well, I was thinking we were due for a little big-girl time. Thought maybe I’d pop by with some of my fried chicken. You could whip up a salad, if you insist on being healthy, too.”

  Jill’s stomach rumbled and she could almost smell Mae’s famous Southern fried chicken. But not tonight. “Sorry, Mae. I’m in the middle of cooking dinner for Rachel. We were planning on spending the evening together.”

  “What about later? Meet me at Ollee’s for a drink?”

  Jill hated putting off her friend, but she needed to make sure Rachel was her sole focus tonight. Besides, it wasn’t as if Mae was on her own and lonely. She had her husband, kids, and grandkids, plus a ton of friends.

  “Can I take a rain check, Mae?”

  “Sure, sweetie. You just let me know when you got some time.”

  Jill continued to grip the receiver even after her friend hung up. Was she being selfish? Was there more to Mae’s request than she’d let on?

  She shook her head in annoyance. Don’t be stupid. Mae accused her of having a knight-in-shining-armor complex, always trying to rescue somebody or something, whether they needed it or not. They hadn’t seen each other for a few weeks. It was probably nothing more than a desire to get together.

  The dogs roused themselves as the front door opened.

  “Mom?”

  Rachel was home.

  Chapter 4

  Jill lifted the tray of freshly baked chocolate cupcakes out of the backseat of her car and used her hip to close the door. It was a lucky coincidence that she had been able to book off the afternoon to surprise Rachel by bringing birthday treats to the clinic. The little girl Jill supported in the afternoons was participating in a class fieldtrip and, while she would normally have gone along, this time the mother had volunteered to help.

  Rachel had been asleep when Jill left for school in the morning so she hadn’t had an opportunity to wish her daughter a happy twenty-third birthday.

  They’d been getting along better since their talk a few weeks ago. They hadn’t resolved anything—Rachel still intended to resume her studies in January and Jill was still against it—but they’d arrived at a truce whereby neither brought up the subject. It would have to be addressed eventually, but for now, they existed in a somewhat strained imitation of harmony. Rachel never failed to let Jill know if she was going out with friends after work, and she always came home at night. And Jill tried to give her daughter space; secretly hoping it would make staying home, for a few additional terms, more attractive.

  The door to the clinic opened and a Rottweiler lunged forward, pulling a broad young man, with tattoos down both arms, after it. Jill stepped back and lifted her tray above her head, hoping the dog wouldn’t jump up on her. She could just imagine being knocked to the ground and having the cupcakes landing on top of her.

  She hadn’t looked her best the last two times she’d shown up at Rachel’s work, so she’d taken extra care with her appearance this afternoon. She just wanted to look nice—for her daughter’s sake. She definitely wasn’t out to impress anyone—certainly not Grant Palmer—although she had to admit she was slightly embarrassed by how she must have come across the previous times they’d met. Still, that wasn’t why she’d spent three-quarters of an hour on her hair and makeup, or why she’d selected the floral tangerine-colored dress that fit her so well. What was wrong with showing the world she was a competent, confident woman?

  The man tugged on the Rottweiler’s leash and led it to his vehicle. Fearing another such untimely greeting, Jill hesitated. It was always a gamble when you opened the door to a veterinary clinic. Would there be a big, excited dog eager to jump up on you or smaller dogs or cats just waiting to be tripped over?

  Jill shifted the tray to balance it on one hand and gingerly pulled opened the door.

  “Here, let me help you.” A whippet-thin older man, with heavy horn-rimmed glasses, stood up and took the tray from her. “These look lovely.” He waited until Jill had closed the door and handed back the tray.

  “Thanks,” she said. There didn’t seem to be any animals in the waiting area, at all. There didn’t seem to be any other people, either. Even the Kathy Bates-look-alike receptionist wasn’t at her desk. She placed the tray on the counter. “Where is everyone?”

  The man shrugged and sat down. “I’m waiting for my wife. She’s in with Dr. Palmer now.”

  Jill tried to imagine what sort of animal the man and his wife would have. Thinning gray hair wisped around his hawkish face and a brown suit jacket draped loosely from his shoulders. The matching brown trousers looked well-worn and rode up past his ankles to display a pair of bulky black orthopedic shoes. He brushed at his pants, as if trying to remove an invisible crease. Probably something tiny. A Yorkie maybe.

  Down the corridor, an examination room door opened and nails tapped on the linoleum as a dog limped along, its head lowered and one of its hind legs dragging.

  A Beagle? She hadn’t expected that.

  “Yes, yes, I will let you know.” The woman, a mirror image
of her husband, called over her shoulder as she led her dog out into the waiting area.

  “Don’t wait too long, please.” Kathy Bates called as she trailed the woman from the examination room.

  “No, I won’t.” The woman followed her husband out of the clinic.

  “Mrs. Bennett?” Kathy Bates—Connie, according to her name badge—circled around behind the counter, her gaze lasered-in on the tray of cupcakes. “Did you bring these for us? They look yummy.”

  “It’s Rachel’s birthday—”

  “Really? She never said a thing. Your timing is perfect. We’ve got a bit of a break before the next patient is due. Let’s take them back to the office.”

  Jill followed her to the back of the clinic. Rachel’s initial panic at seeing her turned to mild embarrassment when Jill explained the reason for her visit and the rest of the staff insisted on singing Happy Birthday before diving into the treats.

  “Thanks, Mom, these are really great,” Rachel said, polishing off her second cupcake.

  Jill gave her daughter a small hug. “I’m glad.” It was crazy, but she felt like she had finally done something right, something to make her daughter happy.

  Grant’s hand hovered over the tray. Jill repressed a smile. Would that be his third or fourth?

  He sunk his teeth into the confection and closed his eyes as if he were experiencing Nirvana. A touch of pink icing rested at the corner of his mouth. Jill took a step toward him and then stopped herself. What was she thinking?

  Grant’s eyes flew open and his brows arched quizzically as he grinned at her. He’d caught her. “Do I have icing all over my face?” He ran his fingers around his mouth, but managed to miss the spot.

  “Just a bit,” Jill moved to him. “Right there.” Using her thumb, she wiped it away. He stared at her, eye-to-eye, for several long seconds. The humor disappeared from his face and she felt a rush of crimson stain her cheeks as she realized how intimate her action had been.