by Myra Johnson
“Great. I’ll be there within the hour.”
By the time Diana arrived, Tripp had finished his applesauce and swallowed more cramp meds. The pain had finally subsided. He waited on the porch as she stepped from her car with a white paper sack from the supermarket deli.
She darted up the steps. Standing toe-to-toe with him, she searched his face, then felt his forehead. “You don’t feel feverish. How’s your stomach?”
“Better.” Offering a reassuring smile, he pointed to the bag. “I hope you brought enough for two.”
He showed her inside to the kitchenette, where he brought bowls and spoons to the table. While Diana dished out the soup, Tripp filled two glasses with ice water.
As they sat down together, Diana cast him one more look of concern before bowing her head to bless the meal. “And, Lord,” she finished, “please knock some sense into this hardheaded man so he doesn’t feel like he has to power through troubles on his own.”
The first spoonful of soup nearly choked him, but he kept his cool and managed to polish off the entire bowl. It settled well, and Diana’s company actually felt nice. Still worn out from the flare-up, though, he soon dozed off in one of the easy chairs. He was vaguely aware of Diana rustling around in the kitchenette, interesting aromas of something on the stove drifting through the cabin.
Sometime later, she jostled his shoulder. “I have to go home and see to my pets, but I found a few things in your fridge—ground turkey, veggies and stuff—and mixed up a casserole. It’s warming in the oven whenever you get hungry.”
“Thanks,” he said, sitting up with a yawn. “Sorry I slept so much.”
“You obviously needed the rest.” Diana bent down to kiss his forehead, then shook her finger at him. “If you feel worse later, you’d better call.”
He only nodded, unwilling to promise. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“As if.” She rolled her eyes and marched to the door.
As it closed behind her, Tripp fought the sudden impulse to go after her and ask her to stay.
* * *
Not worry? Tripp had to be kidding. Seemed all she did these days was worry—about being ready for the therapy pets evaluation, about Tripp’s mom, and—most of all—whether this romantic revival meant they really could have a future together. Because lately Tripp was giving off all kinds of mixed signals—pulling her in, pushing her away—and Diana was having a terrible time keeping her balance.
Twice after she got home that evening, she almost called Tripp to ask if he was feeling better, then abruptly changed her mind. He’d seemed grateful for her help but also uncomfortable, as if allowing someone else—her?—to take care of him strained some macho part of his psyche.
At least she hoped that’s all it was.
By the next morning, she couldn’t keep herself from calling. His cell phone went to voice mail, which she took as a sign he was feeling better and made it to work. He returned her call over the noon hour.
“Got your message,” he said. “Sorry I couldn’t call sooner. We had a full appointment schedule this morning.”
Diana pushed aside the salad she’d been eating at her desk. “Are you sure you shouldn’t have taken another day to make sure you’re over this?”
“I told you, I’m fine.” A note of impatience tinged his tone.
“Well, you looked pretty sick yesterday. I was—”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Diana? I don’t need you worrying about me.”
His sharp tone made her flinch. “All right, fine. I have plenty of other things I can be worrying about that don’t require dealing with your attitude.”
She jammed her thumb on the disconnect button and slammed the phone facedown on her desk, then dropped her head into her hands.
She’d scarcely moved ten minutes later when Kimberly leaned in the doorway. “Don’t tell me—lovers’ quarrel?”
Massaging her temple, Diana released an exasperated sigh. “Can we rewind the calendar to last summer? Life sure seemed a lot simpler then.”
“Simpler. But a lot less interesting.”
“I can do boring. Boring is nice. Boring is—”
Diana’s part-time counter girl, Nora, tapped on the door frame. “Hey, Diana, somebody’s asking for you out front.”
“A customer?”
Nora smirked. “Your boyfriend.”
“Tripp?” Diana’s stomach plummeted. “Tripp’s here?”
Kimberly cast her an enigmatic smile. “Guess you’d better go see what he wants.”
Nora and Kimberly both slipped out, while Diana squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for calm. Then, head held high, she marched from the office.
Tripp paced on the other side of the counter. Seeing her, he halted, his eyes pleading. “Di. Please don’t be mad.”
“Don’t I have a right to be?” Sniffing back a surge of emotion, she scanned the shop. Good, no other customers at the moment. She pressed her fingertips into the countertop. “Tripp, what’s going on with us? You have me so confused I can hardly think straight.”
“Not my intention. I’m just...” He pulled a hand down his face, his gaze sweeping up, down and sideways as if searching for words.
Too tired to argue, Diana decided to make it simpler for him. “Just slowing things down for a while. I get it.”
He winced. “It’s not the same, not like before.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.” She took his hand and squeezed hard. “If you need slow, we’ll go slow. I’m not going anywhere.”
* * *
Diana didn’t hear from Tripp for the rest of the week, and it took every bit of willpower not to call or stop by the clinic. She began to wonder if he’d even put in an appearance at the final obedience class on Sunday. But if he needed space, what choice did she have but to give it to him?
When her parents invited her to go to lunch with them after church, she begged off. Instead, she spent the first part of the afternoon reviewing her therapy pet notes and making sure she was still on track with the paperwork.
As she’d feared, Tripp didn’t make it to the class. And neither did one of the students. A few minutes after Sean got started, Diana’s cell phone rang.
“Sorry for not letting you know sooner,” the woman said, “but my daughter’s work schedule got changed unexpectedly and I need to watch my grandson. Afraid I can’t make it to the class.”
“That’s okay,” Diana said. “I’ll ask Sean if he can offer a makeup session.”
“No, don’t bother. It looks like I’ll be keeping my grandson fairly regularly from now on, so you’d better not count on me as a volunteer.”
“Oh, I see.” Covering her disappointment, Diana expressed her understanding and invited the woman to get in touch if her situation changed.
Great. Agnes Kraus’s final evaluation and therapy pet volunteer training was only a week away. If Diana lost one more volunteer, she’d be below the minimum necessary to get her therapy pets chapter approved.
Back home again, she pored over the original list of possible volunteers and zeroed in on those whose dogs already had obedience training. Could any who’d initially declined be convinced to reconsider? Maybe Tripp would help—
Diana bit her lip. No, she was on her own for now.
At the rate things were going, she might always be on her own.
It sure felt like it when she and Tripp hardly spoke at all over the next week. They shared brief phone calls, but their conversations mainly touched on how his mother was doing and if Diana was ready for Agnes Kraus’s visit on Saturday.
“I’d really like you to be there,” Diana said when Tripp called her Friday evening.
“I’ll try,” was all he said. “But either way, you’ll do great.”
At the doughnut shop on Saturday, Diana spilled more coff
ee in a single morning than she usually did in an entire year. She shouldn’t be so nervous—she still had a full contingent of volunteers, all eight with obedience certification and the required veterinary forms. But Agnes Kraus would be judging by her own set of criteria. Whether Diana’s loyal band of dog owners could pass the strict criteria to form a Visiting Pet Pals chapter, she wouldn’t venture a guess.
As she mopped up yet another spill on the service counter, Kimberly came in from the kitchen with a tray of muffins. “For pity’s sake, Diana, go do some bookkeeping or something. Let Ethan take over the register.”
“He’s busy busing tables. Anyway, I’d rather spill coffee than risk transposing numbers in the accounts.” Pushing out her lower lip to blow a strand of hair from her eyes, Diana gave her attention to the next customer.
Over her lunch break, she reviewed her checklist one more time to make sure she hadn’t overlooked anything. Shortly after three, Kimberly shooed her out the door with strict instructions to call later and tell her how it went.
She’d arranged for the volunteers to gather once again on the lawn behind the church. By 3:25, seven of the eight dog owners had shown up. A few minutes later, a dark blue SUV pulled into the parking lot, and a tall, red-haired woman in a tailored blouse and dressy slacks stepped out. With the added effect of the woman’s dignified bun and square-shaped tortoiseshell glasses, Diana felt like she was back in high school and about to be disciplined by the principal for too many tardies.
Wiping sweaty palms on her jeans, and suddenly feeling completely underdressed, Diana strode over and introduced herself. “So nice to finally meet you in person, Mrs. Kraus. Did you have any trouble finding us?”
“Not at all.” Head tilted, the woman surveyed the group now walking their dogs around the lawn and chatting with each other. “Only seven?”
“The last one should be here any minute.” I hope! The only person missing was Kelly Nesbit with her terrier mix, Freckles. Kelly rarely arrived late for anything, and Diana was growing concerned. “Do you want to wait, or should we get started? I have the signed agreement from the assisted-living center, along with all the dogs’ health records and temperament assessments, if you want to look at those first.”
When Mrs. Kraus agreed, Diana led her over to the bench where she’d left her tote. While the woman perused the paperwork, Diana kept an eye on the parking lot. Shortly, her cell phone buzzed with a text from Kelly: Emergency at the walk-in clinic. Can’t get away. So sorry!
Drawing a bolstering breath, Diana informed Mrs. Kraus. “But I know Kelly really wants to participate, and her dog went through obedience training last year.” She riffled through the file folder. “See? Here’s the copy of his certificate, plus all the veterinary forms.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t approve a dog and handler without personally observing them.” Rising, the woman returned the forms she’d just been reviewing. “Unfortunately, without eight qualified volunteers and dogs, your group doesn’t meet the qualifications for a Visiting Pet Pals chapter.”
Diana rose and stood in front of Mrs. Kraus. “But you’ve come all this way. Surely you won’t turn us down because we’re short one person?”
“We have strict guidelines. If I were to make an exception for you—”
“But you just said they were guidelines. People make exceptions to guidelines all the time.”
“I can’t, not without approval from our board of directors.” With an apologetic smile, Mrs. Kraus withdrew her key fob from her handbag. “Contact me again after the first of the year. I’ll be happy to reschedule.”
So much for Aunt Jennie’s birthday surprise. Diana had already arranged with the director at the center to hold their first pet visit a week from next Monday. She’d reserved the community room and had been working on plans all week to make it a fun celebration for Aunt Jennie and all the residents.
“No,” Diana said, hoping she sounded more authoritative than whiny. “No, it has to be today. You can’t—”
Someone’s firm but gentle grip settled on her shoulder, and the next voice she heard was Tripp’s.
“Hello, Mrs. Kraus. I’m Dr. Willoughby, and these dogs are my patients.” He stepped up beside Diana. “Surely we can work something out. Diana’s invested too much time, energy and heart in this project to have it fall through on such a minor technicality.”
The pressure of Tripp’s hand brought the welcome reassurance Diana needed. Now she could only hold her breath and hope their combined pleas would change Mrs. Kraus’s mind.
“As I was telling Ms. Matthews,” the woman said, “I don’t have authorization to make such a decision.”
Tripp glanced at Diana. “Who are we missing?”
“Kelly and Freckles,” she murmured. “Kelly got caught at the clinic.”
With a thoughtful nod, Tripp addressed Mrs. Kraus. “Then how about this? Go ahead and evaluate these dogs and owners now. If the last volunteer doesn’t make it before you’re ready to begin the volunteer training session, I will personally arrange to get her and her dog to your location sometime within the next few days.”
Indecision played across the woman’s face. “Well, I suppose that’s an option. Nothing says the evaluation and training can’t be done elsewhere, or that all dogs have to be seen on the same day.”
“So,” Diana said, confidence returning, “once all the dogs and owners are approved, you can certify our group as a chapter, right? And we can start our visitations.”
“Correct.” Mrs. Kraus retrieved a clipboard from her satchel. “Very well, then. Shall we get started?”
As the woman strode over to where the owners mingled with their dogs, Diana released her pent-up breath. She swiveled to face Tripp. “Thank you. I didn’t think you were coming.”
“Nothing could keep me from being here today. I—” He wavered, his gaze shifting toward the bench. “Can we continue this discussion sitting down?”
Noticing his pallor, Diana tugged him over to the bench. “Are you okay?”
His gaze slid sideways as he mumbled, “Still having some stomach problems. It’s nothing.”
“It’s the stress of everything, isn’t it? Have you been to see a doctor?”
“It’s under control.” Tripp reached for Diana’s hand. “Can we talk about something else?”
He was closing himself off again. Diana yanked her hand away and folded her arms. “So you’re feeling sick and yet still found the strength to swoop in here like Superman to save my therapy pets program. And now you won’t talk about it? What does that say about our relationship?”
Tripp’s gaze locked with hers. “It says I care.”
He had her there. Lips pursed, she glanced away. As much as she’d like to pursue this discussion, today wasn’t the ideal time, not with so much riding on today. She released a huff and pushed up from the bench. “This isn’t over, Tripp. One of these days, maybe you’ll finally be ready to share all of yourself, not just the parts you think I can handle.”
She lifted her hands in an exasperated gesture, then with a brisk shake of her head she marched across the lawn.
Chapter Ten
Once all the dogs had passed Agnes Kraus’s evaluation, Tripp decided not to stick around to watch the training session. He wasn’t feeling that great anyway—and he hadn’t been lying when he went along with Diana’s suggestion that it was stress. Between agonizing over the thought of losing his mother and doing his best not to permanently wreck things with Diana, his life couldn’t get much more stressful.
He skipped church Sunday morning in an attempt to nip his latest flare-up in the bud so he wouldn’t have to take any more time off from work. On Monday he followed through on his promise to Diana and contacted Kelly Nesbit to see if she’d be willing to take Freckles to San Antonio to meet with Agnes Kraus. Kelly had a day off on Thursday and said she’d be happy to make
the drive, so Tripp phoned Mrs. Kraus to set up the appointment.
On Thursday evening, Diana called. “I thought you’d want to know, Kelly and Freckles passed with flying colors and my chapter’s been approved.”
“Never had any doubts. Congratulations.”
“We’re holding a practice session on Saturday to get ready for our first visit to the assisted-living center. Any chance you can come?”
The hopeful lilt in her tone tugged at Tripp’s heart. He pushed aside his half-eaten plate of scrambled eggs. “I’ll see how things go this weekend.” Hoping to distract her from any health-related questions, he changed the subject. “Found a home for another kitten today. Just one left now, plus mama cat.”
“Really? I’m so glad. I’m still working on Pastor Terry’s wife. She’s hinted a few times she’d love to have a kitten.” Diana sighed. “I don’t know what to do about the mama. Nobody seems interested in a full-grown cat. They just don’t have the cute factor kittens do.”
Tripp shifted and stretched out one leg. “I had an idea about mama cat. She’s made herself right at home at the clinic. What if we adopted her as the clinic cat?”
“You could do that? Oh, Tripp, I love the idea!”
He smiled to himself, glad he could bring a little more happiness into Diana’s life. “We’ll probably change her name, though. Yolanda’s been calling her ‘Sandy.’”
“A perfect name.”
A brief but pleasant silence settled between them. Then Tripp asked, “How are the party plans coming?”
“Everything’s set for Monday evening at the assisted-living center. I can’t wait.”
“Hope I can come by, at least for a bit.”
“Me, too. I know your California flight leaves pretty early the next morning.” A pause. “Tripp? Take care of yourself, will you?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” He pressed his lips together. “I’ll do my best to be there for your practice session this weekend.”