by Myra Johnson
As she joined Tripp on the bench inside the gazebo, he offered a shy grin. “Awkward, huh? Robert told me things were getting crazy over here. I had a little time between appointments and wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
She shrugged. “I’m used to the Juniper Bluff busybodies. Sorry you’re getting initiated so soon.”
“Guess it was inevitable.” Tripp swallowed his last spoonful of yogurt, then tossed the container into a nearby trash receptacle. With a bemused laugh, he asked, “So what exactly were you doing up on that chair?”
“Threatening the busybodies with expulsion.” Looking across the street, Diana glimpsed two tiers of peering faces lining her shop windows. She nudged Tripp’s arm and nodded toward the onlookers. “Obviously, my words had no effect.”
“Obviously.” Chuckling, Tripp gave his head a brisk shake. Then, turning serious, he covered Diana’s hand with his own. “How would you feel about really giving them something to talk about?”
Her heart thumped against her rib cage. “What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know...maybe the kiss we never quite got around to yesterday?”
“You mean right here? In the town square?”
“I promise, I’ve washed my face since Darby so rudely interrupted us.” Tripp’s eyes held hers. “Shaved extra close this morning, too.”
“Why?” she said, barely able to breathe. “Were you already planning this moment?”
“Not consciously. But I haven’t forgotten how you used to complain when my whiskers got scratchy.”
“I never did care for the permanent five-o’clock-shadow look.”
“Di...” His Adam’s apple made a long, slow journey up and down his throat. “I really want to kiss you. Right now. In front of everybody.”
She shivered. “Okay, then.”
So he did.
Chapter Eight
I kissed Diana!
Even better, she’d kissed him back. Willingly, tenderly, as if the breakup and the intervening years had been wiped away in an instant. It didn’t matter that half the town had looked on. It didn’t matter that ten minutes later they had to say goodbye and return to their jobs.
All that mattered was not messing up this chance to win back the woman Tripp had once walked away from.
He practically floated back to the clinic. The pet owners he saw at his next appointments probably wondered why Doc Willoughby couldn’t seem to stop grinning—even at the end of the day, when Sue Ellen Jamison returned with Cleopatra for another dose of worm medication.
“We may need to change Cleopatra’s flea prevention,” Tripp explained as he pressed a tissue to his bleeding left index finger. “Is she outside much?”
“Only in the backyard,” Sue Ellen said, then sheepishly added, “although she does like to catch birds.”
Thus ensued a lengthy conversation about the likely sources of Cleopatra’s tapeworm infestation. At first shocked, then remorseful, Sue Ellen peppered Tripp with questions until he pointedly handed her an informative brochure, then ushered her and the ill-tempered cat out to the front and turned them over to Yolanda.
After hanging up his lab coat, scrubbing his hands and applying an adhesive bandage to his wounded finger, he collapsed in his office chair and phoned Diana. “How was the rest of your day? Any fallout from our rendezvous in the gazebo?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. How about you?”
“Thought the day would never end so I could talk to you again.” Hearing Yolanda shutting things down, Tripp lowered his voice. “I was hoping maybe I could take you to dinner.”
“Sounds nice. But...maybe we could drive over to Fredericksburg?”
“Where there’s a smaller chance of running into anyone we know?” Tripp chuckled. “Good plan. Can I pick you up at six?”
“I’ll be ready.”
Tripp had just enough time to rush out to the cabin and freshen up. Arriving at Diana’s, he let out a low whistle when she answered the door. Her dark waves skimmed the shoulders of a gauzy aquamarine tunic top that complemented her coloring beautifully. Combined with skinny indigo jeans, strappy sandals and silver hoop earrings peeking from beneath her hair, the effect was entrancing.
Helping her into his SUV, Tripp waited till the last possible second before releasing her hand—and only after she cast him a dubious stare. On the drive over to Fredericksburg, she suggested a few of her favorite restaurants, and he chose one he thought most likely to accommodate his dietary restrictions. His insides were still talking back after the two bites of glazed doughnut he’d stupidly ingested that morning.
The restaurant offered a homey atmosphere, and the quiet corner booth where the hostess seated them made it easy to talk. And they talked plenty, long after the dishes were cleared away. Tripp had so many questions about Diana’s family, what she’d done immediately after finishing college, where she’d gotten the idea for Diana’s Donuts, how each of her pets had found its way into her life.
In turn, he answered her questions about his first years in veterinary practice and what his sister, Brooke, had done after getting her marketing degree, but he deliberately sidestepped any mention of his condition. Crohn’s disease wasn’t exactly pleasant dinnertime conversation, and he wouldn’t put a damper on what essentially amounted to their first real date since college.
The date ended on Diana’s front step with a good-night kiss that Tripp had been waiting for all day. Memorizing the way Diana’s brown eyes glistened beneath the porch light, he murmured, “Can we do this again soon?”
“Come over after work sometime and I’ll fix dinner. How about Wednesday?” Her fingertips rested lightly against the hollow of his shoulder. “Afterward, we can watch a movie...or just talk.”
“I’ll be here.”
On Wednesday, though, Tripp had to cancel when an emergency appointment kept him at the clinic until late in the evening. Someone had come upon a stray dog that had been hit by a car, but the injuries were too severe, and Tripp ultimately had to euthanize the poor animal. No matter how many times he’d been through that, it never got easier. He went home exhausted and with his stomach in knots.
Then he phoned Diana, and just hearing her voice soothed away the stress. After the call, he fell asleep imagining coming home to Diana every evening and sharing the day’s highs and lows. “It is not good for the man to be alone,” Scripture said, and Tripp was coming to believe it as he never had before.
He’d just told Diana good-night and was ready to crawl into bed when his phone rang with a call from Brooke. He squeezed his eyes shut briefly before answering. “Hey, sis.”
Her tremulous exhalation sounded in his ear. “We had our first visit from the hospice nurse today.”
His heart plummeted. Everything happening this week had helped to distract him from worries about his mother. “How’d it go?”
“She’s very professional but also extremely kind and caring. We all liked her.”
“And Mom? How’s she taking it?”
“She’s reached the point of acceptance.” Brooke sniffled. “A lot faster than the rest of us, I’m afraid.”
Tripp didn’t doubt it. “I still wish I could help somehow.”
“I know you do. But we’re coping. The nurse will come every morning, and I’ve arranged my work schedule so I can get home earlier each day to help ease the strain on Dad.”
“So...no more dialysis?”
Another shuddering breath. “No, Tripp. No more dialysis.”
He didn’t have to ask what that meant. “Dear God,” he began, struggling for the strength to pray but unable to find the words. How did anyone pray in a situation like this? For a miracle of healing, for a few more weeks or months to say their goodbyes...or for death to come quickly and peacefully?
“Mom’s doctor says she shouldn’t be in any pain, so that�
�s a comfort,” Brooke said. “Mostly she’ll just have less and less energy as things wind down.”
Tripp pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ll let me know if it looks like I should come before Thanksgiving?”
“I promise. But Mom’s already making plans for having all of us with her for the holiday, so you know she’ll fight to hang on for all she’s worth.” A tear-filled laugh burbled from Brooke’s throat. “She even had me pull out her recipe box the other day so I could start on the shopping list.”
“That’s our mom,” Tripp said, shaking his head.
But the realization that this could be the last Thanksgiving he ever spent with his mother hit Tripp hard. After the call ended, he sat on the edge of his bed for several long minutes while his emotions ran rampant. If only he could hear Diana’s voice again...
He dialed her number. Then, noticing it was nearly 11 p.m., he immediately disconnected. As early as Diana had to be at the shop in the morning, she was probably sound asleep already.
A second later his phone rang—Diana. “Tripp? Did you just call?”
“Sorry if I woke you. Didn’t notice how late it was.”
“Is everything okay?” Concern overshadowed the grogginess in her voice.
He told her about the call from Brooke. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, but after the day I had, and then this—” His voice broke.
“No, no, I’m glad you called.” She paused. “I hate that you’re alone out there. Do you want to come over? I can make us a late-night breakfast, and we can watch old reruns on TV to help get your mind off things.”
Tempted as he was, he wouldn’t disrupt Diana’s rest any more than he already had. “I feel better just talking to you. These past few days...they’ve meant so much.”
“For me, too, Tripp.” Sincerity laced her tone. “And please, never, ever hesitate to call or come over anytime you need to talk. What your family’s going through—I can’t even imagine how hard it must be to watch someone you love deal with such a devastating illness.”
Thanking her for listening, Tripp told her to get some sleep and said good-night. A twinge in his belly reminded him he’d forgotten to take his nightly medications, but as he stood at the bathroom sink with a pill bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other, Diana’s parting words penetrated.
When, if ever, could he bear to burden her with the possibility, no matter how remote, that his own disease could turn devastating? His doctors had prepared him for the various complications he could face, the worst of which involved extensive surgery and potentially traumatic lifestyle changes—adjustments Tripp couldn’t imagine forcing on someone he loved.
And yet, a future without Diana scared him even more.
* * *
On Thursday, Diana phoned Tripp during the late-morning lull, catching him between appointments. “Any chance we could meet for lunch?”
“Sounds nice, but...another time, maybe? I’ve got to get some lab samples ready to send out.” His tone suggested he was glad to hear from her, but he also seemed distant, distracted. Between work and family concerns, he had every right to be.
Still, Diana couldn’t shake the feeling that he held something back, as if he regretted being so open with her on the phone last night. Was it only his natural reserve? Or had they tried too quickly to pick up the pieces of their relationship, and now he was having second thoughts? “Sure,” she said, trying hard to sound upbeat. “Call me anytime.”
She didn’t hear from him again for two long days. In the meantime, she second- and third- and fourth-guessed exactly where this thing between them was headed.
On Saturday afternoon, as Diana and her crew wiped tables and straightened up before closing, Tripp walked in.
With a knowing smile, Kimberly relieved Diana of the broom and dustpan she’d been wielding. “Get going. I’ll finish up and shut things down.”
Hands perspiring for no obvious reason, Diana shrugged out of her apron as she strode over to greet Tripp. “Hey, stranger.”
He looked as uneasy as she felt. “Sorry I haven’t been in touch.”
“I’ve been worried.” And not just about your mom.
Tripp glanced around the shop, where Kimberly and two other workers bustled about. “Can we go somewhere?” he asked softly. His crooked smile turned wistful. “I’ve missed you.”
Five minutes later, they sat in the gazebo, Diana’s hand locked firmly in Tripp’s and her heart hammering like that of a lovesick teenager. He hadn’t said a word since they’d started across the street. Now, deep crevices etching the corners of his eyes, he stared at the scuffed floorboards.
“Tripp,” Diana whispered, “what is it?”
“Just a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
She chewed her lip, a desperate ache squeezing her heart. “Maybe you should just pack up and go to California. Spend this time with your mom while you can. Doc Ingram would understand. Everybody would.”
He gave his head a small shake. “No, I can’t turn my back on my responsibilities here. Anyway, as Brooke keeps reminding me, Mom could—” A guttural sound choked off his words. He cleared his throat. “She could linger for weeks yet.”
“But still—”
“Brooke will let me know if I need to fly out sooner than later. Until then, I just need to keep busy.”
Diana nodded in understanding, all the while wishing she had any clue what to do to make things better. She suggested the first thing that came to mind. “Want to come over later? I could make us a light supper.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll head home. I’ve got some veterinary journals I need to catch up on.” Then, as if realizing how distant he sounded, he dipped his chin and sighed. “I’m sorry, Di. With everything I’m dealing with, I wouldn’t be very good company.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. We don’t have to talk at all if you don’t want to. I just—” She released a sharp sigh and pressed his hand between hers. “I just want to help.”
“I know,” he said, barely meeting her gaze, “and I’m not purposely shutting you out. I’m just trying to work through some stuff.”
“I get that you’re worried about your mom. But is it more than that?” Diana held her breath. “Is it...us?”
His grimace said it all.
Rising, she stood in front of him, arms locked at her waist. “It was all too easy, wasn’t it? Falling back into the past and pretending like—”
Tripp shoved to his feet. His hands clamped hard around her shoulders. “There’s no pretending here, Di. I’m still in love with you. I want us to be together as much as—no, even more than I did twelve years ago.”
“Then why do you keep pulling away?” She searched his face but found no answers there, only those dusky blue eyes clouded with pain and uncertainty.
His gaze drifted toward the ceiling briefly before he drew her back to the bench. Leaving a few inches of space between them that felt like the Grand Canyon, he sat forward with his hands clasped between his knees. “You’re right, it was way too easy slipping back into what we had, and now I’m scared to death of jumping into something neither of us is ready for.”
Diana’s fingertips curled around the edge of the bench. “I think I’m finally getting the picture. Basically you’re telling me you’re a commitment-phobe.” Jaw clenched, she slowly shook her head. “All the signs were there. I should have figured this out years ago.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Tripp straightened with a tired sigh. “But not for the reasons you think.”
“Care to explain, then?” She couldn’t mask the bitterness in her tone.
He glanced at her, his lips parted as if he was about to reply. Then his breath caught and he looked away.
“Okay, fine.” Diana stood once more. “If you don’t have the guts to be honest with me, I’ve got plenty of other ways to spend my Satu
rday afternoon.”
Before she’d taken three steps, Tripp caught her and whirled her around, trapping her lips in a kiss that rocked her to her toes. When the kiss ended, they both stood breathless. Tripp drew her close and rested his head on hers. “I want to explain things, believe me. But I’m not thinking straight, and until I get through this thing with my mom, I can’t trust myself not to hurt you...or mess things up even worse than before.”
“You can’t mess things up, not if you really love me.” Diana moved toward him, arms outstretched. “Let me help you through this.”
He accepted her embrace with a shuddering exhalation. “You already are, just by being here.”
She tipped her head. “Then why doesn’t it seem like enough?”
His gaze locked with hers for a searing moment before he lifted his head and took a purposeful step back. He dropped his arms to his sides. “I have to go, Di. Just please, don’t give up on me.”
“I won’t,” she murmured. But as he slipped past her down the steps, a tremor shook her insides, a certain, terrifying sense that she was on the verge of losing him again.
* * *
On Sunday afternoon, Diana sat alone on one of the benches on the church lawn to watch the obedience class. Tripp hadn’t shown up yet, and though he hadn’t exactly said he’d be there, she couldn’t stop worrying. He’d seemed so conflicted and confused yesterday, and then had hardly spoken five words to her at church that morning, just hurried out to his car as soon as worship ended.
After checking her cell phone one more time to see if she’d missed a text or call, she made up her mind to drive out to the cabin as soon as the class ended. He might be holding her at arm’s length, but his reticence was no match for her determination.
Forty minutes later, Sean ambled over with his boxer, Brutus. “Everyone’s coming along real well.”
“Wonderful.” Rising, Diana forced a smile. “Do you think two more Sundays will have them ready?”