The Place I Belong

by Nancy Herkness

  “I’m going to savor something so much better than food.”

  Chapter 18

  THE SIGHT OF Tim Arbuckle’s enormous, green SUV in the parking lot behind the veterinary clinic sent both relief and trepidation through Hannah as she pulled in first thing Monday morning. Handling the entire practice in his absence had been tougher than she expected, and she looked forward to discussing Satchmo’s case with her more experienced boss.

  However, she also needed to tell him about Mrs. Shanks. And possibly offer her resignation.

  Her knuckles went white as she gripped the steering wheel.

  The cell phone chimed with an arriving text message, and she scooped it up from the center console of her car, relaxing as she saw Adam’s name. He’d declined to make a late-night visit yesterday because she had to work today. She swiped the text open.

  I got another shipment of caviar this morning.

  Heat spread through her body. She leaned her cheek against the cold glass of the car window, trying to cool the flush warming her face and her breasts.

  All it took was one text message to make her want to roar up the mountain to Adam’s house, ripping her clothes off as she went. The glimpses she’d had of Adam’s demons should have sent her screaming in the opposite direction, but instead she let herself be drawn closer and closer to him.

  Looking back down at the phone, she tapped her reply on the screen: Chocolate works just as well and it’s cheaper.

  She turned off the car and grabbed her bag, opening it to shove the keys and the phone in when the chime sounded again. She looked at the new message. I’m famous for my chocolate cake with caviar ganache. Would you like to taste it tonight?

  “Oh, my goodness,” she said, as yearning coiled in her belly. Yes.

  She waited a couple of seconds for his response to arrive. I’ll be there at 10:00.

  The day stretched before her like an eternity.

  “Welcome back,” Hannah said, sticking her head into Tim’s office. “Did you have a great trip?”

  Her boss sat at his desk, dressed in his customary work outfit of polo shirt and khakis, staring at the long list of emails on his computer screen. A slow smile spread across his face as he swiveled his chair around toward her. Hannah understood why Tim’s wife, Claire, had fallen for that smile.

  “Come on in and have a seat,” he said. “The trip was great but it’s good to be home. Looks like you’ve been busy here.” He gestured toward the computer. “I feel guilty about leaving you with all this, but you did a fine job of handling it. Couldn’t have done better myself.”

  The compliment warmed her as she dropped into the chair in front of his desk. “Thanks. It kept me out of trouble.” She felt the glow fade as she took a breath. “There are two issues I want to discuss with you.”

  Tim leaned back in his chair, making it creak. He was a giant of a man who moved through the world with a deliberateness that concealed a laser-sharp mind. His solid presence was both comforting and slightly intimidating. “Sounds serious.”

  She led with the simpler of her two concerns.

  “There’s a pony named Satchmo at Healing Springs Stable who’s been ailing since he arrived there. The test results were inconclusive, but I started treating him for EPM. Friday night he took a turn for the worse, and I nearly lost him.” She flipped her ponytail back behind her shoulder. “I’d like you to take a look at him and see if you agree with my diagnosis.”

  Tim nodded. “I read through your notes and the test results in the database. Sounds like you got him through the crisis just fine, but I’ll pay him a visit later today.”

  She twisted a button on her lab coat. “Satch is important to a kid who doesn’t need any more death in his life right now.”

  “Which kid is that?”

  “Adam Bosch’s son.”

  “I didn’t know Matt was a rider,” Tim said.

  “He’s learning.” She twirled the button in the other direction. “Have you heard Sharon Sydenstricker talk about whisper horses?”

  Tim’s smile was both luminous and private. “You could say that.”

  “You seem to know something about them,” Hannah prodded.

  He pushed a hank of auburn hair off his forehead. “Claire has a whisper horse named Willow.”

  “So you believe in Sharon’s theory?”

  His smile hovered. “Well, Willow was a member of our wedding party.”

  “This is a story I want to hear.”

  “Ask Claire about it. She’s the true believer,” Tim said. “Does Sharon think Satchmo is Matt’s whisper horse?”

  Hannah nodded. “Even more important, Matt thinks so. I guess you’re aware of his history.”

  “The kid’s had a rough time of it, and so has his father.” Tim’s expression turned serious. “We’ll make sure the pony gets better.”

  She wanted to ask him to expand on his comment about Adam, but she couldn’t come up with any work-related reason to do so. “Great,” she said and fell silent.

  “You wanted to discuss something else?” Tim prompted.

  Hannah laced her fingers together in her lap. “I think I lost you a client last week.”

  “You know as well as I do that we can’t save all our patients,” he said.

  “The patient didn’t die. His owner refused to let me treat him because of what happened in Chicago. She took her cat to another vet.”

  “That’s her prerogative, but she won’t find a better vet than you.”

  “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” She looked away as she fought to control her surging emotions. The array of diplomas hung on his wall caught her eye. His credentials were impeccable, while hers were sullied. “I don’t want to damage your practice.”

  “I can afford to lose a client or two,” he said with what appeared to be genuine unconcern.

  “What if you lose more than that? Mrs. Shanks announced it to the entire waiting room. It’s a small town. Word will spread.” Hannah gave him a direct look. “I should resign.”

  Tim leaned forward, his big hands gripping the arms of his chair. He seemed to swell with the anger she could see in his eyes. “Bertha Shanks isn’t worth wasting another thought on. You are an outstanding veterinarian who uses a brilliantly intuitive approach in treating your patients. Anyone who takes their business elsewhere is doing a disservice to their animal.”

  Hannah rocked back in her chair. “I…I’m glad you feel that way. Thank you, but—”

  He held up his hand to stop her. “No resigning.”

  “All right.” A wave of relief rolled through her. She didn’t want to leave Sanctuary.

  He lowered his hand. “It’s for my own benefit. Claire is headed for Croatia in about six weeks, and I don’t want to miss the trip. It would be tough to replace you on such short notice.”

  He gave her a wink, and she managed a weak smile. “It’s good to know you’re only thinking of your own self-interest.” Her tone was dry.

  He nodded and swiveled his chair back to the computer. “Let’s see when we can work in a visit to Satchmo. Looks like we can sneak over at lunchtime if you don’t mind eating in the truck.”

  “I’ll get Estelle to order us a couple of sandwiches.”

  “Make it more than a couple for me,” he said.

  At four thirty, Hannah pulled into her driveway. As she gathered up her handbag and go-cup, she felt a sense of buoyancy. After Tim had examined Satchmo and listened to Sharon’s comments, he had turned to Hannah and said, “That was a difficult diagnosis. Well done.” But it was the look of genuine respect in his eyes that sent a thrill of pride through her.

  She opened her car door and jumped out, saying, “Take that, Bertha Shanks!” before she slammed the door shut.

  As she started across the winter-dull grass to reach her front door, she
heard another car door open and close.

  “Hannah!” a man’s voice called.

  It was a voice that didn’t belong here. She whipped around in shock to see her ex-fiancé, resplendent in a navy blue suit and red power tie, strolling across the street from a shiny, black sedan. The sun turned his sandy hair into a gleaming halo, and for a terrible moment she felt her heart leap at the sight of him. She wanted to rip it out of her chest. “Ward? What are you doing here?”

  Her lack of welcome didn’t stop her ex.

  “It’s been a long time,” Ward said, crossing the lawn and leaning forward as though to kiss her.

  She took a step back, making him sway into empty air. “You should have let me know you were coming. I don’t have much time.”

  Although she would have preferred not to have Ward in her house, she didn’t want to make a scene outside. She stalked up the sidewalk, feeling his presence as he followed her. She dug her keys out of her bag and opened the front door. Instead of giving her dogs the sit-stay command, she let them jump all over her and Ward.

  It depressed her to see how happily they greeted him, but she couldn’t blame them. He’d wooed them with treats the same way he’d wooed her. Once he’d won them over, he’d reverted to an occasional pat on the head. Both she and the dogs had been grateful for getting even that. Satisfaction bloomed inside her when she noted dog hairs speckling his pristine suit.

  “They sure know how to make you feel welcome,” Ward said, trying to brush off some of the hair as the dogs’ excitement subsided.

  “If they thought you were threatening me, they’d sink their teeth into your leg.”

  “Man’s best friend,” he said, resorting to cliché as he always did when he got caught in an unpleasant corner. “Nice place,” he said, making a show of casting an admiring gaze around her living room with its mishmash of furniture.

  “It’s a rental.” Hannah tossed her bag and keys on the foyer table before turning to Ward with her arms crossed over her chest. “Why are you here?”

  He held his hands out at his side and gave her a cajoling smile. “Don’t I even rate a glass of water after traveling all the way from Chicago?”

  That glinting smile with its false hint of self-deprecation had once charmed her right into his bed. “If I give you a glass of water, will you leave?”

  That wiped the smile away. “We need to talk,” he said, all the previous coaxing absent from his voice.

  “Then talk.”

  “Let’s sit down like civilized human beings.”

  “Is that how you see yourself? Because I disagree.” When Ward had dumped her, she’d been too devastated to fight back. Now her stoked anger burst into a roaring bonfire, and it felt good to blast him with it.

  He turned on his heel and stomped into the living room, yanking a dog blanket off an armchair and seating himself. Clearly, he wasn’t leaving until he’d had his say, so she and the dogs followed him in. The dogs stayed by her side as though they had picked up on her antagonism toward her ex.

  She dropped down onto the couch and crossed her arms again, her gaze on his face.

  He hated silence. When they lived together, either the television or radio was always on and tuned to news. He claimed it was important for his job as Robert Sawyer’s right-hand man.

  Ward adjusted his cufflinks and crossed his legs. “What are you trying to prove, Hannah?”

  Thrown off balance by the unexpected question, she had no cutting comeback. “What are you talking about?”

  “My sources say someone is asking questions about the incident with Senator Sawyer’s dog.”

  She thought of the letter she’d received and stuffed in the drawer. “Your sources are crazy. I’ve moved on.”

  “Somebody hasn’t. Maybe your boss?” Ward made it a question and a challenge.

  “Tim’s been out of the country for two weeks. I don’t think he was doing long distance espionage.” Paul Taggart had brought up the possibility of clearing her name, but she’d turned him down and she couldn’t picture him going forward without her permission.

  Could it be Adam? He’d been furious after she had blurted out the reason for her distress over Mrs. Shanks’ accusations. He might have decided to fix things for her because he felt an obligation to her for helping him with Matt and Satchmo.

  “Who is it then?” Ward must have caught some hint of her thoughts in her expression.

  “I have no idea. Your buddies are just paranoid.”

  “Look,” he said, smoothing his trousers over his thighs, “I know I caused you pain, and I’m sorry. It hurt me as well when our relationship ended.”

  “Ended?” Furious disbelief crashed through her. “You make it sound like it just petered out. You dropped me like a hot potato as soon as Sophie’s death got into the newspaper.”

  He winced. “It was just damage containment. I needed to separate your name from the senator’s. My heart was breaking, though.”

  She tucked her hands under her thighs, so she didn’t launch herself across the room and strangle him. “I hope you don’t think I’m stupid enough to believe that.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll remember the great times we had together, and call off whoever’s stirring the pot in Chicago.” More clichés, stacked on top of each other. He must be desperate.

  “What exactly do your sources say is going on?” Maybe some details would give her a clue as to who was behind this, unless Ward’s cronies were riled up over nothing.

  His lips thinned. “I’m not at liberty to share that.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake, can’t you talk like a normal person instead of a walking sound bite? If you tell me more, maybe I can figure out who’s involved.”

  “Someone’s been exploring the possibility of filing a lawsuit for slander,” he said, his voice tight with reluctance.

  That sounded like a lawyer—which meant Paul—but she just wasn’t seeing him as the force behind the pot-stirring. She shook her head.

  “What is it? Do you have an idea?” Ward asked.

  “I’m still baffled,” she said with total honesty, as she leaned forward to pet Annabelle, who lay at her feet. She wanted Ward to leave, so she raised her gaze to his and put every ounce of sincerity she could into her voice. “I promise you I’m not involved in whatever is going on in Chicago. And I’m pretty sure no one can file any suits without my cooperation. Are you satisfied?”

  “What if someone came to you and said they had enough evidence to file a suit? What would you do?”

  She sat back. She’d made the decision to turn and run months ago. “Nothing. The damage has all been done, and I’ve come out the other side.”

  His gaze bored into her for a long moment before his face softened. “I wouldn’t believe anyone else, but, well, I always said you were too good for me.”

  He was convincing, and she had to fight the compulsion to believe he meant it. She leapt to her feet. “On that note, why don’t you head back to Chicago?”

  “I was hoping to take you out to dinner,” he said, rising more slowly.

  “I have plans for the evening already. Besides, The Aerie is closed on Mondays.”

  “The Aerie? I was going to take you to the Laurels,” he said, giving her a sharp look. “That’s where I’m staying.”

  “Oh, I just assumed you’d want to go to the most expensive restaurant in the area.” She was so wrapped up in Adam that she hadn’t considered the possibility of any other restaurant.

  Her slightly insulting explanation seemed to ring true with Ward because he dropped the subject. He crossed the space between them and reached for her hands. Short of whipping them behind her back, she couldn’t avoid his touch. As his fingers folded around hers, she braced herself for a surge of physical memory. His grip was warm and firm, as befit a politician’s, but it didn’t send any sparks zinging th
rough her. She let out her breath in a sigh of relief. She’d been blindsided by his arrival; now that her brain had caught up, she was free of him.

  “I’d like to put the past behind us and become friends. You are a special person, and I want to keep you in my life.” His pale-blue eyes held a fine sheen, as though he might be tearing up.

  She remembered the horrible scene when he’d read the first media report, where they’d interviewed her about her decision to euthanize Sophie. He had hurled the newspaper across the room and rounded on her with a face contorted by fury. “How could you do this?” he’d shouted, the tendons in his neck standing out. “Don’t you care about my career?”

  She’d been afraid he was going to hit her and had put a couch between them. Instead, he’d taken her apart verbally and left the pieces strewn all over the floor before he ground them into the carpet with his heel.

  The next day he’d sent her a giant bouquet of flowers, taken her out to dinner, and apologized. His regrets had been barbed, though, filled with subtle putdowns about how unskilled she was as a political fiancée. After that she’d felt as though she was walking on eggshells, watching every word she said in public.

  Maybe he had done her a favor in breaking their engagement.

  She tugged her hands out of his and shook her head. “We live in very different places.”

  His jaw tightened, but his voice remained persuasive. “May I call you every now and then?”

  She couldn’t imagine what they’d have to talk about. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  His nostrils flared and a flush climbed his neck. “If you won’t be friends, then I’ll have to consider you an enemy.” He brought his face closer to hers. “And you don’t want to be my enemy.”

  “Are you threatening me?” She couldn’t believe it. Why was he worried about her, hiding down here in the mountains of West Virginia?

  He took a step back, a nasty smile thinning his lips once again. “Of course not. I have no reason to, do I?”