Hill Country Reunion

by Myra Johnson

  “Don’t see why not. A couple of dogs still need to work on some skills, but if the owners keep up the practice between classes, they should be okay.”

  Encouraged, Diana chatted briefly with the owners. All seemed enthusiastic about earning their dogs’ obedience certificates and passing Agnes Kraus’s evaluation. Diana reminded them about the veterinary forms they’d need to provide before the group could be authorized as a Visiting Pet Pals chapter.

  “No Doc Willoughby today?” Vince Mussell tugged on Darby’s leash to stop him from sniffing a piece of trash.

  “He’s dealing with some serious family concerns. His mother isn’t well.” Diana glanced away briefly while composing her expression into something resembling a smile. “I know he would have been here if he could.”

  “Well, I hope everything turns out okay. Sure like that fella. Darby does, too.” Vince scratched the dog behind the ears. “Yep, Doc Willoughby has a real nice way about him.”

  Diana couldn’t agree more.

  Then Tripp’s warm baritone sounded behind her. “My ears were burning. Y’all talking about me?”

  She swung around and came face-to-face with his hesitant half grin. “Tripp. I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “Meant to. Went to my office this afternoon to catch up on a few things, then got on the phone with my mom and dad. We talked for so long that I lost track of time.” He handed Diana a manila envelope. “Hoped I’d catch you before you left. I made copies of vaccination records and wrote up the health assessments you’ll need for the evaluation.”

  Diana narrowed her eyes as she accepted the envelope. “You did all this today?”

  “Just keeping busy.” Tripp cast a polite nod at Vince and reached down to scratch Darby behind the ears. “This guy doing okay with his lessons?”

  “Better than last week,” Vince said with a snort, “but we still have some work to do. Good to see you, Doc. Heard about your mom. Janice and I will keep y’all in our prayers.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  Diana reached out to touch Tripp’s arm. She’d rather hug him, but taking in Tripp’s detached expression, she thought better of it. Plus, Vince was standing right there. Instead, she quietly asked, “How’s your mother doing today?”

  “About the same. Holding her own.” With a brisk nod, Tripp returned his attention to Vince and his dog. “What exactly is Darby having trouble with? Any way I can help?”

  Clearly, Tripp was heavily into avoidance mode. Crossing her arms, Diana stepped aside while Vince described Darby’s training weaknesses.

  “Biggest problem is he’s a puller,” Vince explained. “Can’t get him to walk nicely beside me on the leash.”

  Frowning, Tripp scratched his chin, then knelt in front of the dog. He unsnapped the leash, flipped it around to the loop handle and wove it into a figure eight, which he fitted over Darby’s neck and snout as a makeshift halter. “Try this,” he said, handing the other end to Vince. “It’ll give you more control in leading him.”

  Vince gave Darby the command to heel, then stepped out. The dog started to pull ahead, but the halter immediately drew his attention back to his master. He slowed his pace and trotted alongside Vince with new respect.

  “Wow,” Vince said, grinning over his shoulder as he led Darby in a broad circle. “You should be teaching this class, Doc. Any other quick tips?”

  “The main thing is consistency. Just keep practicing every day. And lots of long walks. That’ll burn off some of Darby’s energy so he’s more ready to focus on the training.”

  Burning off energy. Sure seemed Tripp was doing more of that himself. Diana wondered what it would take to reclaim his focus on their relationship.

  * * *

  Tripp had never felt so torn. He’d seen the look in Diana’s eyes and sensed how much she wanted to reach out to him, to hold him and comfort him. Yet so much still stood between them, and he was way too close to blowing his second chance to have her back in his life permanently.

  His brain kept replaying the phone conversation with his parents earlier. Dad had sounded so much older than the last time they’d talked, and when his dad had stepped away from the phone for a moment, Tripp had said as much to his mom.

  Caring for an invalid will do that to you, Mom had said. He’s worn out, and so am I. Soon we’ll both be able to rest.

  Those softly spoken words had nearly undone Tripp. All he could say was, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.

  And Mom had kept telling him he had nothing to be sorry about. Not one thing. Let’s talk about happy news, she’d said. Tell me more about your life in Juniper Bluff. Tell me more about Diana. I always did like that girl. She had spunk.

  Still does, and plenty of it, Tripp thought now as he and Diana walked out to the parking lot together...close but not touching.

  He’d sidestepped any hints to his parents about the possibility of getting back together with Diana. Those first few weeks in Juniper Bluff, he hadn’t held much hope. But now, painfully aware of what his mother’s illness was doing to Dad—to all of them—he had even less.

  “Gotta go,” he said as they reached Diana’s car. He opened her door for her. “Talk to you soon.”

  “I hope so.” With one hand on the door frame, she clasped his hand. Before he could resist, she tugged him close for a goodbye kiss.

  Her featherlight touch froze him to the spot. Jaw firm, he watched her drive away before climbing into his own car. But instead of heading home, he returned to the clinic. He sat down at his desk and dove into a stack of files and other paperwork that could easily have waited until Monday morning.

  My grace is sufficient for thee...

  The scripture he’d relied on so often whispered through his thoughts.

  My grace...sufficient...

  He closed the file he’d been reading, leaned back in his chair and took several long, slow breaths. And remembered what his dad had said on the phone this afternoon, One day at a time, son. Only choice we have is to take this one day at a time.

  That’s what Tripp had to do, too. He was smart enough to realize he was way too vulnerable these days—not the ideal frame of mind to make any radical decisions about his future. Especially where Diana was concerned. Like his dad, he needed to take each day as it came and make the best of it.

  In the meantime, he’d pray that God would somehow show him—one way or the other—whether keeping Diana in his life was the right thing to do.

  Chapter Nine

  Diana didn’t see much of Tripp the following week. He’d called on Tuesday but said he was between appointments and couldn’t talk long. He hadn’t sounded quite so distant, though, which eased Diana’s mind. She could relate to his need to keep himself occupied—until he’d come back into her life a few weeks ago, she’d had plenty of practice herself.

  But it didn’t make being apart any easier.

  On Wednesday, she invited him over for supper, and he surprised her by accepting. They spent a relaxed evening together, mostly talking about who had stopped in at the doughnut shop, Tripp’s most interesting veterinary case of the day and—of course—the therapy pets program. When Diana asked Tripp about his mother, his simple reply was, “Not much change.”

  They spoke on the phone a few more times over the next couple of days, and on Saturday afternoon, Diana persuaded Tripp to go on a horseback ride with her. Rather than risk a replay of Mona’s feistiness, she asked Seth if they could take out a couple of his calmer trail horses.

  Out on the trail, it was as if Diana could see the tension melting from Tripp’s shoulders. As they arrived in the clearing at the top of the hill, he reined his horse to a halt and looked up at the cloudless blue sky.

  “I needed this,” he said, then turned to her and smiled his special smile, the one that never failed to convey how much he loved her.

  She gr
inned back, glad for the sunglasses to hide the wetness filling her eyes. “You know what they say. All work and no play...”

  “Makes Doc Willoughby a very strung out, self-absorbed, inattentive boyfriend.” His mouth twisted in an apologetic frown, but Diana took heart at the fact that he’d actually referred to himself as her boyfriend.

  “No more doom and gloom, Doc Willoughby. Today’s all about having fun.” Diana nudged her horse closer, until the two horses were parallel. She scanned the far side of the meadow. Then, with a mischievous glance at Tripp, she pointed to a tall, skinny cedar. “Race ya to that tree. Loser buys dinner.”

  Before he could react, she kicked her horse into motion. Not that it did much good, since these trail horses rarely moved faster than a bone-crunching trot.

  “No fair!” Tripp shouted behind her, but she heard the laughter in his voice. A couple of seconds later he caught up and even passed her.

  She decided right then to let him win. He’d already won back her heart anyway—something she’d never have believed possible if anyone had asked her two months ago. Besides, seeing his face-splitting victory grin as he reined his horse around to wait for her was worth a zillion times more than the price of dinner.

  “So where are you taking us?” he asked, breathing hard.

  “Winner’s choice.” She feigned a look of chagrin. “But please have mercy on my poor, pitiful bank account.”

  Tripp opted for the restaurant in Fredericksburg where he’d taken her the last time they’d gone out for dinner. After they’d both had a chance to clean up from the ride, Tripp drove into town to pick her up.

  His reserved side reemerged over dinner, though—a dinner he barely picked at, she couldn’t help noticing. Losing her own appetite, she longed for the lightheartedness they’d shared out on the trail. She’d never admit it aloud, but the strain of trying to stay cheerful and positive for his sake was wearing on her.

  He’d grown even more distant by the time he met her at the church the next afternoon to watch the obedience class. Diana finally coaxed out of him that Brooke had phoned early that morning to say his mother had had an especially bad night.

  “You should have called me,” Diana said, holding his hand as they sat on the park bench.

  He glanced away, his mouth hardening. “You worry about me enough as it is.”

  She wanted to snap at him that two people who truly cared for each other would willingly share their concerns, but the retort froze on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she turned her attention to the class, just in time to see Darby army-crawling out of his “down, stay” position the moment Vince turned his back. In spite of herself, she couldn’t hold back a snicker.

  Tripp had noticed, too. He squeezed Diana’s hand and smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a silent plea for forgiveness. “I have a feeling Darby will turn out to be your star therapy pet. Who can resist such cuteness?”

  Diana wiggled her brows. “Let’s just hope Agnes Kraus agrees.”

  When the class ended, Diana and Tripp both nodded with satisfaction at the improvement they’d seen in each dog.

  “One more class,” Sean said as he checked off items on his roster. “So far, I’m expecting all the dogs will pass.”

  Diana drew air between her teeth. “Even Darby?”

  Sean laughed. “Even Darby. He’s a work in progress, but he’ll get there.”

  After everyone had left, Diana walked with Tripp to the parking lot. “I promised Aunt Jennie a visit this afternoon. Want to come along?”

  “Thanks, but no, not this time.” Tripp pressed a hand to his side, and Diana caught a subtle grimace.

  “Are you feeling okay? You’re not catching something, are you?”

  “It’s nothing. Probably just too many long days and short nights.” His smile seemed forced.

  “Well, okay, if you’re sure. Go home and get some rest.” She stretched up for a quick kiss, then kept her hand on his cheek as she added, “Call me later if you aren’t feeling better. I mean it.”

  His only response was a noncommittal nod.

  Knees drawn up on Aunt Jennie’s love seat half an hour later, Diana admitted her concerns about counting on a future with Tripp. “Too many times lately, it feels like he’s pulling away. Am I being selfish for wanting reassurance?”

  “No, sweetie, not at all.” Aunt Jennie took a tiny sip of the tea she’d brewed for them. “Just be mindful that with the terrible loss of his mother looming, he’ll need time to grieve and heal.”

  “I’ll give him all the time he needs.” Diana set aside her empty cup. “The one thing I can’t bear,” she said with a shudder, “is losing him again.”

  Aunt Jennie scoffed. “Where’s your faith, girl? If God went to all the trouble to send Tripp Willoughby back into your life, do you believe for a minute He won’t see this thing through?”

  “Of course not.” Diana reached across to squeeze her great-aunt’s wrinkled hand. “But what if God’s plans for this reunion aren’t the same as mine? What if He had an entirely different purpose for bringing Tripp to Juniper Bluff?”

  “Well, then, it’ll be up to the Lord to reveal it.” With a wink, Aunt Jennie reached for the teapot.

  Diana waved away the offered refill, while her thoughts skipped to a far less romantic reason for Tripp’s reappearance in her life. Maybe he was only supposed to help her launch the therapy pets program—something she couldn’t confide in Aunt Jennie without spoiling the surprise.

  But if that were the case, surely there were a dozen other experienced veterinarians God could have sent Diana’s way. Why did it have to be the one man she’d never been able to get out of her heart?

  * * *

  When Tripp’s bedside alarm sounded Monday morning, he’d already been up for two hours dealing with a Crohn’s flare-up. He limped over to the nightstand and silenced the insistent clamor.

  This wasn’t looking like a good day to handle squirming puppies and temperamental cats. Reluctantly, Tripp reached for his cell phone.

  “Robert, it’s Tripp,” he began, his whole body tensing as another cramp rolled through him. “Not doing so good this morning. Can you cover my appointments, or should I have Yolanda reschedule?”

  His partner agreed to see the morning patients and said he’d take care of rescheduling the afternoon appointments so he could make his farm calls. “You just take it easy and get better, okay?”

  Tripp thanked him, then took another dose of his meds and crawled into bed.

  Shortly before noon, a call from his sister woke him. Seeing her name on the display, he sat up with a start, ever fearful she’d be calling with bad news. His voice cracked as he answered. “Brooke?”

  “Hey, big bro. Sounds like I woke you.”

  “I, uh...I had to call in sick today. Been napping.”

  “Oh, no. With all this stress, I bet you haven’t been eating right, have you? Remembering your meds?”

  “Usually.” One hand pressed against the throbbing pain in his abdomen, he was glad his sister couldn’t see him just now. “And I’m the big brother, remember? So you can quit bossing me around.”

  “The big brother who still needs looking after, apparently.” Brooke scoffed. “You’ve let Diana know what you can and can’t eat, haven’t you?”

  Her question only reinforced the doubts he’d been wrestling with. Between his sister giving him the third degree and the cramp twisting through his gut, he was on his last nerve. “I don’t need you lecturing me about how I’m handling my stomach issues—or my love life.”

  “Tripp, I didn’t mean—”

  “Forget it.” Tripp drew a tight breath. “Just tell me how Mom’s doing.”

  “Still declining.” Brooke hesitated, her tone growing shaky as she continued. “But her spirits are good. She’s amazing, Tripp, shaming us all with her strong
faith and how at peace she is about waiting for Jesus to—” Her voice broke.

  For a moment, Tripp couldn’t find his voice, either. He forced down a painful swallow. “Are we still looking okay for my Thanksgiving trip?”

  “For now. The doctors still won’t commit to anything definite, and you know Mom’s a fighter. Having you here for the holiday is about all she talks about.”

  Brooke’s tentative assurance that their mother could last another month relieved a small measure of Tripp’s anxiety. “I’ve already bought my plane ticket. But if anything changes—”

  “I’ll call right away.”

  After saying goodbye, Tripp decided he’d slept long enough and went to the kitchenette to look for something safe to eat. He opened a snack-sized container of applesauce, grabbed a spoon and shuffled out to the porch.

  He’d barely sat down when the distant ring of his cell phone sounded from inside the cabin. He almost let it go to voice mail but couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t Brooke calling back.

  In the bedroom again, he snatched up the phone without checking the display. “Hello?”

  “Tripp, are you okay?” Diana. “Doc Ingram just stopped in at the shop and mentioned you called in sick this morning.”

  “I’ll be fine. Probably a...stomach bug...or something.” He grimaced at the evasion.

  “I’m on my way out there. Could you handle some chicken soup from the deli?”

  “Diana, no.” Tripp clawed the back of his head. “I’m okay, really.”

  He could hear each breath she took. “No to the soup,” she said slowly, “or no, you don’t want me there at all?”

  Either answer would get him in deeper trouble than he was already in, so he went with another deflection. “Don’t you need to be at the doughnut shop?”

  “Kimberly can handle things for the afternoon. Please, Tripp, let me take care of you.”

  Having Diana “take care of him” through one of these episodes, or something even worse, was the absolute last thing he’d ever wanted. But he sensed turning down her offer now would only raise more questions he wasn’t ready to answer. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Chicken soup might just do the trick.”