Besides, she reasoned as she pulled the soft, woolen afghan off the back of the couch, Emily was upstairs trying to sleep and she didn’t want to be the one to wake her, when she was already hanging onto her last nerve.
Sara stacked the few throw pillows she could find at one end, grabbed the remote, and made herself perfectly comfortable as the blinding flash of car lights lit up the windows and filled the room with bright, yellow glow. Sara pulled the blanket off and sat back up. The house was positioned in such a way as to block light from passing traffic.
Which meant someone was in the driveway.
“Sam.” She sighed, assuming that her grandfather had found some excuse to drive the three miles to escape the tender henpecking of his new wife, Molly, and her never-ending supply of puppies.
Sara stood up and ran for the first of several heavy, wooden doors and winding passageways that separated the animal clinic from the rest of the house. It was an old game she and Emily had invented when they were little and their grandfather was the center of their world. She and her sister would listen for the sound of his truck as it hit the top of the driveway then race one another through the house and into the clinic. The winner was the girl who got to the front door first.
And was rewarded with the first hug.
Sara cleared each door and each passage way in record time, her socks sliding perfectly across the wood plank floors as she grabbed hold of the door handle with one hand and flipped the lock with the other. Effortless! Her nine-year-old girl brain howled with delight and a smile so wide it hurt spread across her face. Using the door handle as a makeshift brake she tried to stop the forward motion of her suddenly out of control arms as she flung the door open. Despite her best efforts to stop herself, all she managed to do was send her body careening into the registration desk instead of her grandfather’s arms.
Sara rolled onto her side, her head still spinning from her wild trip across the house. She pulled her legs up under her and managed to set herself up only to realize, with growing dread, that it was not her grandfather standing in the door way.
It was a strange man.
A strange man who was looking at her as if she were the ten-cent side show at the county fair, and holding a large golden retriever.
“You’re not Sam,” she whispered. The feel of blood rushing to her face made her humiliation complete.
The man holding the dog shook his head and took a tentative step past the door. “No.” The edges of his mouth held back the grin that threatened to escape him. “I’m not Sam.”
Sara swallowed the lump in her throat. Determined to hold onto as much of her dwindling self-esteem as possible, she smiled and stood up. “I thought you were my grandfather.”
“That was quite a tumble you took.”
“It’s the floor.” Her laugh came out tight and forced, painful even to her own ears. “We just had them waxed.”
“Are you alright?”
Sara felt her chest tighten under his bright blue gaze. It was more male attention then she’d had in a very long time and it made her painfully aware of how ridiculous she must seem. “I’m fine.” She smiled and motioned to the large, yellow dog in the man’s arms. “About your dog? What’s going on?”
“Is Emily here?” he asked cautiously. “Or Sam?”
“I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
“Are you Sara?” A small, bespeckled face popped around from behind the man. “Emily’s sister?”
Sara knelt down and offered the boy her hand. “Yes.” She smiled, grateful that he took it so eagerly. “I’m Sara.”
“I’m Charlie Hastings and this is my uncle Nate.” He pointed up at the man holding the dog.
“It’s nice to meet you Charlie. Can you tell me about your dog?”
Charlie took a step forward; his little round face wore an expression of adult seriousness. “Her name is Hattie. She’s my best friend. She was supposed to be in the yard but she got out into the road and someone hit her with their car.” When he finished speaking he drew his lips into a tight line and narrowed his eyes cautiously. “You can fix her right?” He placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
Sara froze, the smile on her face growing painfully stiff. “I’m going to try.” She told him firmly. “Why don’t we take her into the back so I can get a really good look at her?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Charlie agreed and turned to his uncle. “Come on Nate. Sara’s going to make Hattie better.”
Sara felt Nate’s cold stare on her as Charlie’s words settled over both of them. She’d chosen her words carefully so as not to give him any false hope but knew that children created their own conclusions no matter how hard you tried not to mislead them. Sara didn’t have to meet his eyes to know that she was treading into dangerous territory.
“I’m going to have a look at her, Charlie,” she told him softly. “After that I’ll do everything I can to help her.”
The boy smiled, his bright blue eyes shining with such hope and assurance it burned a hole through Sara’s professional detachment. “I know you can do it, Sara,” he whispered, and pulled her towards the long hallway that led to the triage room.
Sara followed the boy down the hall, not bothering to look if his uncle was following with the dog. She assumed he was accustomed to Charlie’s forwardness and that none of this seemed as strange to him as it did to her.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Hattie decided to get friendly with a porcupine last month,” Nate said from behind. “It took Emily the better part of the day to patch her up.”
“That’s nasty work.” Sarah winced dramatically, making Charlie giggle as she flipped on the lights and motioned to Nate. “You can put her down on the table.”
Nate lay the dog down and took a hesitant step away from the table, his face a mask of hard-worn concern. “We’re not sure how she got out of the yard.” He looked up, his eyes the color of the sky right after a heavy snow storm. “It’s completely fenced in. She was only outside for about five minutes before the car hit her. Jerk didn’t even stick around to see if she was okay.”
Sara ran a light hand over the dog looking for swelling or heat. “How was she laying when you found her?”
“Pardon?”
“Was she on the side of the road, like the impact threw her? Or in the middle of the road? Was she laying on her right side or her left?”
“She was in the middle of the road.” The little sandy-haired boy whispered as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his hand. “On her left side.”
“Thank you, Charlie.” Sara smiled at the boy. “That helps me a lot.”
The little boy, who as far as Sara could tell could be no older than five or six gave her a courteous nod and stepped forward. “I think the car bumped her here,” he told her and placed a finger on the dog’s right hip. “On her butt.”
“Charlie!” The tone in Nate’s voice went from concerned to exasperate in an instant.
Sara felt along the dog’s hip, stopping when the Hattie let out a plaintive whimper. She let the dog rest before picking up and skimming the tips of her fingers down her leg. “I’m going to take a few x-rays but I’m pretty sure, actually I know, her leg’s broken and her hip is either dislocated or broken as well.”
“But you can fix her?”
“Why don’t we let Sara do her job, buddy?” Nate placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, silencing him.
“Hey Charlie!”
Sara felt relief wash over her as the sound of her sister’s voice echoed through the exam room. Taking care of Hattie and her broken leg was one thing, attending to the Hastings family was proving to be quite another.
“Hope we didn’t wake you, Emily.” Nate stood back from the table and gave Emily a smile so wide it made Sara’s stomach twist up into tight knots.
“No.” She shook her head. “I needed a drink of water and heard Sara crashing around.”
“Thanks, Em,” she muttered as
she gave the dog a quick exam.
“No problem.” Emily shrugged. “What’s up with Hattie?”
“A car hit her butt,” Charlie told her.
“Broken leg.” Sara corrected him before his uncle got the chance. “Not sure about the hip so I’m going to get a few x-rays to confirm. Besides that she’s in surprisingly good shape.”
“You need me to stay?” Emily looked around the room.
Sara held her breath, not sure how she should handle her sister’s offer for help. She already knew that Nate wasn’t comfortable with having her look at the dog and she wasn’t all that comfortable with Charlie’s unwavering faith in her abilities.
“I think we’re in good hands.” Nate turned his eyes to Sara. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Get all the sleep you can.”
“Thanks, Chief.” Emily rubbed her eyes and smiled nervously. “You need anything Sara?”
“I don’t, but Charlie might like to sit on the couch and watch a few cartoons?”
Charlie had sprinted past Emily and out of the room before Sara could finish the sentence. Emily turned as fast as she could and chased after him, the sound of their laughter echoing along the empty rooms of the clinic.
“I like him.” Sara smiled up at Nate. “You’re very lucky.”
Nate shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “He certainly makes life interesting.”
“I’m going to give Hattie a mild sedative to keep her still while I get those x-rays.”
“Will she still be in pain?”
“She won’t feel a thing.” Sara nodded. “She’ll sleep right through it. I’m also going to get her shaved up and an IV started. She’d got a few good lacerations that are going to need stitching.”
“Do I dare breathe a sigh of relief?” he asked tentatively.
“I always recommend caution.” Sara told him firmly. “But in this case I could risk a little optimism.”
Nate nodded and sat down, the worry he’d been wearing since Sara first met him slowly faded away. “You’re the boss.”
****
“Charlie’s asleep.” Nate chuckled as he walked back in the triage room. “He’s passed out on the couch with the fattest cat I’ve ever seen.”
“I can’t promise you that Simon won’t eat your nephew!” Sara smiled up at him. “Small children have been known to disappear in his presence!”
“I’ll remember that if Charlie comes up missing anytime soon!”
“So would you like the good news or the bad news first?” She sighed, pointing to the x-ray illuminated behind her.
“I suppose we should start with the bad.” He exhaled the last word in one long breath.
“The bad news is that Charlie gets to tell the whole town that his dog broke her butt.”
“Seriously?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
“Not really.” She assured him. “But he wasn’t too far off the mark.” Sara pointed to the x-ray again. “She’s had a break in her tail as well as a simple fracture in the left femur.”
“What about her hip?”
“Only dislocated,” she assured him. “I popped it back in while you were checking on Charlie. Most people get a little queasy at the noise.”
“So that’s the good news?”
“In a nutshell.” Sara reached up and adjusted the IV. “She’s a lucky dog. I’d like to keep her overnight but she should be fine.”
Nate pulled up a stool and sat down next to the dog. “Charlie can’t lose this dog,” he whispered. “Hattie really is the only friend he has.”
Sara tried to swallow the painful lump that appeared in her throat but looking into Nate’s bright eyes made it impossible. She wanted to say sensible things to him about dogs not living forever and it’s better to prepare children for this sort of thing. She wanted to give him the speech about getting your heart broken when you wrapped up happiness in a pet’s mortality but the words just wouldn’t come.
“I’m going to need some help getting the cast on. Do you want to stay and help?”
Nate nodded as a gentle smile crossed his handsome face.
Sara opened the door to one of the supply closets and filled her arms with everything she needed to get Hattie patched up. She found that it was easier to breath, easier to think when she was able to create a little distance between the two of them. With her breath caught in her throat she turned only to find him standing in the doorway, a curious look crossing his face.
“I was worried you got lost,” he teased, as he reached and took the supplies out of her arms. “Let me give you a hand.”
“Oh.” She stumbled on the only words she could find. “Thank you.” Sara followed Nate out of the supply room. With each step she had to remind herself to keep her eyes off the strong, muscular curve of his back, the wide expanse of his shoulders as he passed through the doorway, the way his thick, dark hair curled at the nape—
“Sara?” Nate interrupted her wandering thoughts.
She let go of the breath she’d been holding and the world around her came crashing back into needle sharp focus. “Sorry.” She began busying herself with the task at hand. “It’s been a long day.”
Nate put the supplies down on the tray next to Hattie and sat back on the stool. “You looked a little lost there.”
“It’s nothing.” Sara shook her head and began shaving the dog’s leg. “So, why did Emily call you chief?”
Nate looked up at her, a slow smile crossing his face as though he could read her intention to change the subject to something safe, something easy that wouldn’t touch upon an emotion. “I’m the fire chief.”
“Tom Richards finally retied?” Her gaze narrowed in on his face. “Aren’t you kind of young to head up the fire department?”
“I don’t think anyone else wanted to job, to tell you the truth.” He laughed. “The pay is terrible and the hours are miserable.”
“But you like it?”
“I love it.”
Sara worked quickly, splinting the dog’s tail before moving on to the few stitches Hattie’s lacerations required. “I’m going to want to see her back in three days to get another x-ray of her tail,” she told him. “If it’s not healing correctly I’ll call in a specialist I know in Bangor. I’d hate to see her lose it.”
Again Nate smiled up at her, his handsome face almost too much for her to stand looking at in the silence of the clinic.
“So how long have you been the Iron Mills fire chief?” Sara stuttered over her words.
“Almost four years now.”
“And Charlie?” she asked gingerly, wanting to know exactly what the situation was without putting her nose somewhere it didn’t belong.
“He came with me.” Nate raised an eyebrow and waited for the next question.
Sara hesitated, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be one of a thousand other people in the town that had to know the life story of every single person who walked the streets. She and Emily had lived most of their lives on the receiving end of that kind of attention and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.
“It’s okay.” He smiled. “You can ask.”
“It’s none of my business, Nate.”
“Well, you’re going to hear all about it eventually, so I’d rather it came from me than some busybody.”
Sara filled a basin with warm water and emptied several packets of plaster infused gauze. “I don’t even know which questions to ask.” She watched the gauze thicken in the water.
“Well, I’ll start with the basics. I’m Charlie’s uncle as well as his legal guardian. We moved here from Portland, Oregon. I was born in a lovely suburban town outside Cincinnati and Charlie was born in a basement under a meth lab that my sister, Alisa, was hiding out in.”
Sara sank her hands into the thick water; the lump in her throat grew larger with each breath until she was certain she was suffocating. She knew this story, she and her sister had lived a similar one, and she didn’t know if she had the heart to listen to it. “Go
on,” she whispered as she blinked the tears out of her eyes.
“She tried dumping Charlie off on my parents but they refused to take him.”
“Why?”
“My dad said that they were done raising kids.” Nate shook his head. “He told me that Charlie was my sister’s problem and they had no intention of fixing it for her, so Alisa wrapped him in a paper bag and put him in a dumpster.”
Sara reached into the water and pulled out one end of gauze. With care she started carefully wrapping Hattie’s hind leg. “I don’t understand people sometimes.” Sara ran her hands up and down the cast checking for any pockets of air that might be hiding in the damp layers. “How did you get him?”
“Alisa turned herself in. She was desperate and sick and I have to remind myself not to hate her every day. Charlie and I both caught a lucky break when his social worker turned out to be the most determined person I’d ever met. She tracked me down and convinced me to file for guardianship.” Nate reached out and ran a finger down Sara’s cheek, tracing the lines of her tears. “ I didn’t mean to make you cry the day before Valentine’s day,” he said gently. “I’m sorry.”
Sara bit her lip and searched her brain for something to say that wouldn’t sound wooden or rehearsed. “You did a good thing,” she whispered. “Sam took Emily and me in after my mother’s first breakdown. And the second and the third. After that he put his foot down and wouldn’t let her take us again. He saved our lives.”
“Sam’s a good man.”
“So are you.”
Nate drew a ragged breath and leaned in closer, resting his hand on the sleeping dog. “Are you ready to start the small talk back up?” he teased.
“Please.” Sara laughed as she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.
“Are you ready for the wedding?”
Sara felt a new pull of panic at the reminder of the embarrassment that await her tomorrow evening.
Be Mine, Valentine Page 3