Dancing Tides

by Vickie McKeehan

  “I got here as soon as I could. Is he that bad off?”

  Joy made a face. “His head’s all cut up and—I’ll let Bran give you the lowdown on the medical details.”

  Keegan’s heart sank. This sounded more serious than she’d been led to believe. “Well, let’s see what we’ve got.”

  They walked into a crowded reception area and Joy led her back to the operating room where there on the table lay a very still sea otter, weighing no more than twenty-five pounds with a bandage around his little head.

  Keegan also noticed his stomach was wrapped. “What happened there? Bran didn’t mention that.”

  “Gashes around his middle that took forty stitches. Those will likely give him some pain.”

  “Okay, then let’s get this little guy home before he wakes up.”

  The three of them loaded the patient into a dog carrier and carted him out to the Ford where they eased him into the bed of the truck, still unconscious. “Thanks guys.”

  “Call us if he needs anything else.”

  “Will do.” With that she crawled behind the wheel and backed out to head for home.

  She’d almost made it back to Main Street when she noticed the temperature gauge inching into the red zone. It seemed stuck in the two-forty range and wouldn’t budge. And then all of a sudden, the engine light came on, and with it the sound of hissing and spewing.

  Coughing and sputtering, she edged the old blue Ford over to the side of the road. White smoke poured from underneath the hood. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d just blown a head gasket.

  “I don’t believe this,” Keegan muttered as she reached into her pocket and dug out her cell phone, punched in a number she knew by heart.

  Wally Pierce, the best and only mechanic in town, had cautioned her not two weeks earlier about the poor condition of the radiator. Before that it had been leaking coolant on a fairly regular basis. But at the time she had persuaded him to try adding sealant to fix the problem. Since the miles on the poor old thing already crept close to the three-hundred thousand mark, Wally had been reluctant to use the sealant because it badly needed damn near new parts from back fender to front.

  And now it seemed the Band-Aid approach had accentuated the problem because she was stranded—with a sick sea otter onboard.

  “Hey Lilly, this is Keegan Fanning. I’ve got a situation.” She repeated her dilemma to Lilly Seybold, Wally’s full-time employee, his bookkeeper, and as of last Christmas, the woman he intended to make his wife. The single mom of two kids, Lilly also had a side business, painting. She’d paint anything—from signs to murals to canvas. At one time she’d held down three part-time jobs. To Keegan, the woman seemed perfect for Wally.

  After finally taking a breath, she quickly added, “And Lilly I’ve got a sick animal that needs to be in a secure place when he wakes up in pain.”

  “Keegan, I’ll have him there in fifteen minutes,” Lilly promised.

  “Thanks, Lilly.”

  She sat there on the side of the road frustrated that she was so close to the rescue facility she could walk. But she damn sure couldn’t carry a sea otter down Main by herself. She could call Abby to help her tote the carrier. The girl would come for sure, but then Abby already had her hands full with a host of other things to deal with. Keegan most certainly couldn’t leave the otter in the truck. Because of that she lightly beat her head on the steering wheel. Some days she wished her life was a lot less complicated.

  Out at Promise Cove, Cord stepped onto the wide porch and tapped lightly on one of the double front doors just in case the baby was taking her afternoon nap. When Nick came to the door Cord stepped back and motioned for him to come outside.

  “I’m sorry, Nick. I screwed up. It won’t happen again. I agreed to the counseling, ten sessions. And I have my first AA meeting tomorrow afternoon. I know I have a problem with alcohol. Murphy hosts a chapter right here in town.”

  Nick furrowed his brow. “Murphy? I had no idea.”

  “Me either. Anyway, are we good? Do I still have a job, a place to live?”

  “You gotta stay sober, Cord. And I won’t have you around Jordan or Hutton knowing you’re thinking of ending it all. In fact, if you’re still thinking like that I talked to Ben Latham this morning. He agreed we’d both check you into rehab. There’s a good psychiatric hospital south of here that has a—”

  But Cord didn’t let him finish. “No. I made a mistake. I admit it now. Ethan confiscated the .22, Nick. And I’m not on any pills. Although right about now if I had a bottle of Excedrin I might be tempted to down more than the prescribed dose.”

  He rubbed at his throbbing temple.

  Nick slapped him on the back. “Will ibuprofen do? Come on inside. Jordan fixed baked chicken and mashed potatoes for supper last night. You get the leftovers.”

  “The one I missed,” Cord muttered and looked down at his feet. “I won’t let you down this time, Nick.”

  “I hope that’s true, Cord. I really need to believe you want to change, that you want to get your act together.”

  And just like that, Cord Bennett decided he’d been given yet another chance at straightening out his life.

  Chapter Six

  By the time Wally’s tow truck pulled up in front of the center and they got the sea otter unloaded and safely tucked into the exam room, it was after four o’clock.

  Exhausted from not much sleep the night before, Keegan slid into a chair next to her new patient and looked up to see Wally peering down at her holding a can of Coke in his hand he’d gotten out of the fridge.

  Keegan looked up at the lanky, good-looking guy she’d known most of her life. Even though he usually wore his hair down to his shoulders, today he had it secured in the back with a powder-blue bandana.

  With Wally’s surfer good looks, she had to wonder why they’d never been attracted to each other. They’d grown up two blocks from each other. He’d helped her learn how to ride her bike without the training wheels.

  It might’ve been the four year difference in their ages. Or maybe the fact as an only child Keegan had always considered Wally more like an older brother, someone she could confide in over the years, someone who would listen and take the time to come up with a solution to her problems.

  Whether it had been about teen angst or getting through difficult times together at school, they’d always been more like brother and sister.

  There was no one in Pelican Pointe who knew her better. “So you’re saying the crank-case filled with coolant and the head’s warped. You’ll have to rebuild the engine. I’ll be honest here, Wally. I have no idea where I’ll get the money for a new one.”

  “I know. We’ll figure something out. Let me explore under the hood some more, see exactly what I’m dealing with before I make any kinds of promises. You know, I’ve still got the old ’70 VW bug you can borrow for wheels until I get your truck up and running.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Wally, but I don’t think the bug will work for a rescue. I need something big enough to hold and secure an injured mammal. Besides, I wouldn’t want to stink up your little car.”

  He laughed and rubbed his chin. “The thing is I don’t think your patients would hurt it none. Lilly says it already has a ‘nice lived in’ smell going for it. Remember when we took it up the coast to surf in Monterey and brought back some kind of stinky sea urchin. I think it still lives there—in spirit.”

  Keegan snorted at the memory, another example of their time spent as buddies. “Oh, my God, I couldn’t have been more than fifteen. You were always a better surfer than I was. You were dating, who was it?” She snapped her fingers. “Debbie Harkness. You and Debbie let me tag along with you.”

  “Like a pesky, kid sister. Yeah, I remember. We couldn’t get that horrible smell out of our clothes for weeks.”

  “Gran threatened to scrub me in tomato juice when I got back, you too as I recall.” She punched him in the arm playfully and joked, “I notice you didn’t offer me your clas
sic Chevelle.”

  “Now Keegan, you know, that car’s my pride and joy. If you weren’t carrying around a smelly seal or two—”

  She laughed. “I get it. Thanks Wally, for the offer. If you’re sure it’ll be okay, I’ll take the bug. When are you and Lilly making it official anyway?”

  “She’s making me wait until June. You’ll get your invitation next month. I don’t see why we can’t just run off to—”

  “Men,” Keegan interjected, rolling her eyes. “Lilly deserves a nice ceremony not a quickie in front of a justice of the peace. She had to put up with that jackass husband of hers hitting her all those years. She needs the lousy marriage all the way behind her and a formal affair is just the ticket. I heard Jordan’s already planning a bridal shower for May out at the Cove.”

  She caught the concern on his face. “Are you worried about her ex getting out of jail this summer?”

  “Early release. Nah, he’s already got some other woman dangling on the line, interested in marrying him. He’s been corresponding with her through his sister. And he doesn’t seem that interested in little Kyra and Joey either.” Wally shook his head. “I don’t understand the way some men treat their kids. Or why some women are so hard up they’ll settle for someone beating them up on a regular basis?”

  “It’s one of life’s mysteries.”

  “I’m just glad she got out of there.”

  “Yeah, me too. Okay, what’s eating at you?”

  “How long have we known each other, Keegan?”

  “Ever since you beat up Larry Glover for me after he stole my lunch money.”

  Wally grinned. “Larry was a bully who liked picking on little girls.”

  “You busted his nose as I recall.” She tilted her head and studied him. “Okay, spill.” “I’m worried about you.”

  He waved his arms in the air. “This place is overwhelming you. You need a fundraiser. Or I could make another donation—”

  “No. You’re getting married in three months to a woman with two children who adore you. You’re taking on a huge responsibility. You’ll need all the dough you can scrape together. You don’t need to be donating your vast fortune to this place. Besides, I promised I wouldn’t mention your last donation to Lilly. And I didn’t. But I’m not going to let you keep doing that, Wally. It isn’t right.”

  He shook his head. “Why is it you’re so stubborn, anyway? A donation from a friend isn’t going to compromise Keegan Fanning’s determination to do things her way.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “If you won’t let me donate then how about doing something special during the street fair, you know, like an open house. It’s in three weeks, that’s plenty of time to set things up.”

  “That’s a great idea but I may have waited a little too late to plan a special event with everything going on—”

  “There’s still time. Get the local merchants to donate stuff. I’ll be the first.”

  “If Lilly hadn’t snapped you up—I’d marry you myself.”

  “Yeah. Right. We tried kissing once. Remember?”

  She rolled her eyes. “How could I forget? Every girl remembers when a guy tells her a kiss makes him sick.”

  “I did not say that. I said it felt like I was kissing my sister.”

  “Yeah. I think my grandmother was sorely disappointed.”

  “I know my mom was.”

  “Couldn’t be helped. And you have Lilly now.”

  He grinned. “Who knew? The minute I saw her, we just clicked.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “It’ll happen, Keegan. Look I gotta get back. I’ll bring the bug over tonight, park it out on the street. It’ll bring back memories of our youth.”

  “Right.”

  “Think about the fundraiser during the street fair.”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think about it myself. Thanks Wally.”

  “Maybe because you have a crapload of stuff going on right now.”

  “True. Okay, let’s see how much it costs to fix the truck first. In the meantime, I wouldn’t object if you wanted to extend your generosity to getting me the parts at cost.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Good because it looks like I won’t be going anywhere unless I go on foot,” she grumbled as she took the Coke out of his hands and took a long drink.

  “I’ll let you know tomorrow what I find under the hood.”

  “Sure, break my heart on a Sunday. Say hi to Lilly for me.”

  After he’d gone, she checked the vitals on the sea otter she’d nicknamed Jack because he looked a little like Jack Sparrow, the pirate, especially with one eye and half his head covered in a bandana-wrap of gauze.

  When he lifted his little head a few inches, she scratched his fur and cooed, “You’ll be fine here, Jack. You’ll get breakfast in bed for a couple of days and then we’ll let you outside in your own pen. How’s that sound?”

  With that, she left the main building out the back and strolled along the walkway until she got to the porch—and did a double take when she got to the steps.

  There on the mat was an oblong floral box, distinctive because it bore a sticker with the logo of Drea’s Flowers adorning the baby-blue foiled cardboard.

  Her heart did a leap. It had to be a mistake. No one ever sent her flowers.

  She slid out the little envelope from underneath the gold ribbon and opened the card.

  There scribbled in pen was the message: Thanks for jumping in the ocean, thanks for getting wet and thanks for saving my sorry ass from drowning, Cord Bennett.

  In spite of her mood, her lips curved into a wide smile right before she muffled a giggle. She picked up the box and went inside. Gingerly, she set the long box on the table by the door and tossed her keys in the collect-all dish.

  She untied the ribbon on the box just as Abby stuck her head inside.

  “Knock, knock. Someone’s got an admirer.” Abby wiggled her eyebrows up and down. “Drea brought those over herself. We decided to put them on the doorstep so you wouldn’t miss finding them. Surprise!”

  “They’re from Cord Bennett, the guy I pulled out of the ocean last night, the guy not right in the head.”

  “Really? Let’s see what he sent.”

  Keegan removed the lid. The minute her eyes landed on the brilliant color against the delicate white tissue paper she let out a long sigh. “Oh, my God, tulips! They’re gorgeous. Look at these! They’re the most beautiful purple flowers anyone’s ever sent me. Okay, they’re the only purple flowers anyone’s ever sent me.”

  “Gotta admit,” Abby said, “He has great taste when it comes to sending buds.”

  Like any female, Keegan stuck her nose into the flared petals and inhaled the fragrant blooms before agreeing, “Classy gesture, Cord Bennett, very classy, even if you are crazy as a loon.”

  Chapter Seven

  The organic farm Cord managed and that the Harrises owned, spread out over twenty-five acres of the most fertile farmland California had to offer. Set high on majestic cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean and shoreline, the farm Nick and Jordan Harris had inherited from Edmund Taggert the previous fall, had come a long way. With new ownership had come an influx of new ideas. With new ideas and the backbreaking work from one Cord Bennett, Taggert Organic Farms had not just survived Edmund’s death, it had thrived.

  For one, they had almost doubled their stock of Holstein and Jersey cross breeds from fifteen to twenty-four. More cows meant producing more milk, which in turn, had them serving more customers, and thus, increasing their profits. Greater profits meant they could pour more money back into the farm.

  One way was to make the place a totally grass fed operation, rotating pasture land. They also had plans to build stabilized walkways so the cows would never have to walk in mud that might create contamination problems. At one time after he’d first gotten here, Cord had worked with Nick to plan a solar-powered watering system, along with a manure lagoon, and new curbing.

/>   It was all pretty standard stuff for an organic operation.

  Early on, Cord had expressed interest in increasing the size of their already vast vegetable garden. They already packaged and sold their abundant crops of kale, spinach, carrots, broccoli, sweet corn, and five different varieties of lettuce, to a variety of health food stores and grocery chains up and down the west coast.

  But when it all meshed together it required a dedication needed to keep up with the latest techniques in making sure the stock stayed healthy, the fertilizer methods were current, the certifications stayed up to date, along with doing whatever was necessary to keep powdery mildew at bay.

  Good thing Cord wasn’t resistant to hard work. Hell, he’d been working in one capacity or another since he was fourteen.

  With Silas and Sammy and their cousins not due back until Sunday night, Cord had plenty to keep him busy. After leaving Promise Cove that afternoon, he gratefully settled into his routine, a routine that had kept him hopping for the past four months—and had filled him with a certain amount of resentment.

  He could admit that now.

  After spending last night in lockup, today he intended to start fresh, maybe get back into what he now considered his element with a new perspective.

  He worked the two dozen cows into position and hooked them up to the milking machines in stages, six shifts of four.

  Instead of resenting the bovines the way he usually had over the past months, for the first time since starting the job, he had a fresh appreciation for the animals, the smells coming from the old barn, and maybe even the grueling work itself.

  He had to admit the chip on his shoulder he’d been carrying on his back since he’d arrived here had prevented him from enjoying the place.

  He intended to change that.

  Nick had been after him for weeks now to take more of an interest in furthering his certifications, even going so far as to bug him about registering to attend an organic dairy conference in Saratoga Springs, New York, come next winter. He might decide to do all of that now.