“There’s nothing quite like a good book,” she said before walking out of the library and back to the den.
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Hope drove to Home Again Cafe to grab some breakfast. She’d slept through her alarm, something which hadn’t occurred since her college days. As she walked inside the cafe, Hope took a deep breath. Everything about the little restaurant smelled amazing and her stomach rumbled in anticipation. She walked past the French chic booths to the counter, admiring the baked goods on display in the glass case.
“Shall I just wrap it all up for you now?”
Hope looked up at her high school friend, Katie, with a smile. A freshman during Hope’s senior year, the two had become fast friends participating in cheer together. Hope was glad to have a friend living nearby. “And give Davis another opportunity to comment on my chunky thighs?” Hope asked. “Yeah, no. No thanks.”
“You really ought to just deck him, you know. No one would blame you,” Katie replied.
“Except it’s generally frowned upon by polite society. Meaning my boss would probably fire me.”
Katie shrugged with a grin, her brown eyes sparkling with mirth. “Minor complications. So, what can I get for you today?”
“How about a pumpkin muffin, egg and ham sandwich to go, and a caramel cocoa.”
As she rang up the order, Katie smirked, “So, who’s Miss Georgie trying to set you up with this time?”
Hope snorted. “What? What makes you think she’s setting me up with anyone?”
“Normally when you’re here, you just get water, maybe a lemonade. But, when your lovely neighbor decides she wants to set you up with someone, suddenly you need cocoa. It doesn’t take long to figure out.”
“Especially when she does it all the time,” Hope admitted ruefully.
“So, who is it?” Katie asked. “A gardener? Postal worker? Male nurse?”
Hope giggled. “Her grandson.”
“The tall, dark, brooding one?”
“Well, I can’t say that I’ve met all of them,” Hope replied with a smirk, “but Greyson certainly fits that description.”
Katie clicked her tongue as she packed Hope’s order in a bag. “Girl, you’re in trouble if she’s pulling out the big guns. Do you need a double shot of caramel?” she added with a wink as she went to make the hot chocolate.
Shaking her head, Hope said, “Nah, I’m good with one.” She took the bag and steaming cup from Katie. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. Tell Miss Georgie hi for me when you see her next.”
“Will do.”
“And her handsome grandson,” Katie called out.
Hope turned and stuck her tongue out, then continued out of the cafe and to her car. She drove to the veterinary clinic on the edge of town. While she’d had every intention of becoming a veterinarian, her father’s heart attack hadn’t just scared her parents. Having recently graduated with her bachelor’s in veterinary science, Katie decided to take a break from school to help around the house with her father’s recovery. She started working at the local veterinary clinic as an technician. When her parents made the choice to move to Florida, Katie decided she enjoyed the technician work and continued with it. At some point she hoped to go back to school, but for now she enjoyed the flexible hours the job afforded her. Plus it allowed her time to volunteer at Healing Hoofbeats, which she honestly enjoyed even more. But that was volunteer work and while it was rewarding, it didn’t exactly pay the bills.
Her thoughts scattered as she pulled into the clinic parking lot. She grimaced when she saw Davis’ car. “Great,” she muttered. Hope glanced at the clock on her dashboard. She had time to wolf down her breakfast in the car before going inside, and hopefully avoid a snide comment from the other veterinary technician. Within a few minutes she was able to finish her breakfast before shoving the bag in the garbage can just outside the clinic. She carried the remainder of her cocoa with her as she walked through the staff entrance. Walking as quietly as she could, Hope made her way to the break room which would have the list of her assignments for the day. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that no one was in the room. Hope checked the computer in the corner for her daily schedule. During the morning she would be helping with a few minor surgeries, then well-checks for the afternoon. Her final assignment would be helping to prepare the operating room for a large animal surgery. If she remembered correctly, they would be operating on one of the horses belonging to the owners of the Benedict Heritage Farm. Hope sent a silent prayer that all would go well. The heavy Belgian horses were favorites at the Harvest Festival which was only a couple weeks away. Losing one would be a blow to the entire community.
“Well, well, if it isn’t little Hope Fields,” a patronizing voice said.
She grit her teeth, but refused to look up from her screen. “Davis.”
“Have a good evening?”
Hope shrugged. “It was enjoyable.”
“Not too lonely for you?”
She turned to face her coworker. Davis possessed little charm, though he certainly didn’t seem to know that. Hope wasn’t sure what had led the man to believe that he was overwhelmingly attractive. She found him to be rather the opposite. Scrawny and pale with watery gray eyes, Davis was the last man on earth Hope would pursue a relationship with. His dull, mousy brown hair hung limp and his pathetic attempt to grow out a beard for No-Shave November paled in comparison with Greyson’s attractive goatee. Stop thinking about him, she chided herself before saying, “I’m never lonely. Rascal is plenty of company for me.”
“I don’t suppose it occurred to you that spending time with people wouldn’t kill you,” Davis said.
Hope gave a falsely sweet smile. “Well, I guess that might be true. But considering present company, I’d better not risk it.” Before Davis could work out the insult, Hope quickly walked out of the break room and to the reception area. “Good morning, Dizzy,” she said as she neared the reception area. The receptionist, a kindly woman in her mid-fifties, had been one of Dr. Hanson’s first hires. Her whirlwind approach to life had earned her the nickname which she proudly embroidered on every one of her scrub tops. Today she wore a black top with foxes jumping in leaf piles and Dizzy emblazoned over her right pocket in yellow. Her silver-gray hair was teased up into a fluffy bouffant with an orange scarf tied like a headband around it.
Dizzy turned to her with a bright grin. “Good morning, yourself. And how does this beautiful morning find you?”
“Frazzled, to tell the truth,” Hope replied, walking to the front door and turning the closed sign to open. “I slept through my alarm.”
“Well, honey, all of us do that at some point or other.”
“Yeah, but I haven’t done it since college.”
“Somebody in particular on your mind?” Dizzy asked with a wink.
Hope rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone assume that’s the problem? It’s not even like there’s anyone around here to have on my mind.”
Dizzy chuckled. “If I’m frazzled, nine out of ten says it’s a man’s fault.”
Unable to stop her grin, Hope shook her head. “I just slept through my alarm. Nothing more complicated than that.”
“Hmmm, if you say so,” Dizzy said. Her bright orange nails clicked over the keyboard as she turned her attention to powering up the computer. “Dr. Hanson said she might be a few minutes late getting in today. Her little boy isn’t feeling well and she’s trying to find a sitter.”
“Poor guy, I hope he’s better soon.”
“If she fed him more whole foods, I bet he wouldn’t be sick,” Davis said from behind them.
Dizzy and Hope exchanged annoyed glances while Dizzy said, “Even the healthiest eaters get sick sometimes. Don’t you remember last winter when you caught pneumonia? You were sick for nearly two weeks.”
Davis spluttered for a few moments until the bell over the door rang.
“Time to get busy,” Hope said quietly to Dizzy as their first patient for the day came
in with its owner. Hope spoke briefly with the owner before carrying the fluffy white kitten into the routine operating room. Not long after she’d gotten the kitten settled, Dr. Hanson walked in. “I’ve got Spritz ready for pre-op, Doctor,” she said to the veterinarian.
“Thank you, Hope,” Dr. Hanson replied, washing her hands at the station. “You’re a life-saver.”
She smiled. “Just doing my job.”
Chapter Three
Greyson walked into the hardware store and began glancing around for paint chips. An older woman saw him. “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice gravelly.
“Yes, I’m looking for paint chips,” Greyson replied.
She nodded. “There’s a kiosk to the back of aisle three.” After another moment, she asked, “You look somewhat familiar, but I can’t seem to place you. Are you one of Georgie Able’s boys?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The woman brightened. “She must be back from the hospital then. How is she?”
Greyson smiled. “Doing better, thanks.”
“Good to hear,” she replied. “If you need anything else, just holler.”
“Actually, one of Gram’s windows is cracked. Would you know of a good window installation company?”
She dug through a drawer near the cash register. “Carl Rather is a local handyman. I’ve heard he always does very good work. Maybe give him a call,” she said, handing him a business card. The bell rang over the door, and she smiled, “You tell your grandma Raelynn said hello.”
“I’ll do that, ma’am, thanks,” Greyson said. He walked to the aisle Raelynn had indicated as she greeted her new customer. He knew his grandmother’s house had always been green with white trim and he wondered if maybe it was time to change things up a little. George would probably dig in her heels, but if she wasn’t going to be living there, her opinion really didn’t matter much anyway.
Guilt slapped him as he pushed the thought away. He grabbed several sheets of samples and a few inspiration pamphlets. “No sense picking something without her help,” he mumbled before leaving the store. He drove through the main streets of town, admiring the well-kept, historic buildings. Fall decorations and turkey banners took up every available space they could. Hope wasn’t kidding. Blessings really did take Thanksgiving to a whole new level. He cringed as he thought of what he’d said to her. “Well, I probably won’t be seeing much of her again anyway,” he told himself.
When he arrived back at the house, Georgie sat at the dining room table on the phone. “Yes, Val, of course I’ll be at the historic society meeting. Why wouldn’t I be? An author in town? What’s he writing? I see. Well, that’s very good news. If he stops by the society, be sure to give him my number. I’ll be glad to help him in anyway I can. Uh-huh. Buh-bye.”
“Gram, you know you’re supposed to be taking things easy, right?” Greyson asked as he set the samples on the table.
“I’m not going to waste my time sitting around, dear,” Georgie replied. “What are those?”
“Paint samples. The house desperately needs a fresh coat of paint. If you get it done in the next week or so, you can have it dry before it gets too cold.”
Georgie arched an eyebrow. “You’ve lived in the Midwest for how long and you think it’s going to stay warm enough to paint? Greyson, this would have had to be done in September. Besides, why are you so bent on getting the house painted?”
He hesitated only for a moment. “It’s like I told you yesterday, Gram. You live in a historic house. You should keep it up.”
She sniffed. “Easier said than done.”
“I know that, Gram. I’m sure a town this small doesn’t give a lot of options.”
“Handymen we have in spades,” Georgie retorted with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It’s time that’s the trouble. I simply don’t have time to worry about it. If it bothers you all that much, I’ll look at your samples, but this exterior isn’t going to change until spring at the earliest.”
Greyson rubbed his temples. “Fine, Gram.”
She walked over and glanced at the chips. “By the way, I have a horse therapy session at four-thirty. We’ll need to leave early in order to get there on time.”
“And you’re jut now telling me about that?”
“Well I only set it up in the last hour. You were out and about, so I couldn’t very well tell you about it, could I?”
He sighed. “You really need a cell phone, Gram.”
GREYSON WASN’T SURE what to expect as he drove his grandmother south of Lawrence to a small ranch. “Gram, are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked as they passed under a large, whitewashed sign which read Healing Hoofbeats.
“Of course I’m sure,” Georgie replied. “Dr. Stevens said horse therapy is excellent for stroke patients. He would never recommend something that wouldn’t be beneficial.”
More like he got tired of arguing with you, Greyson thought as he pulled into a gravel parking lot. “If it’s all right with you, I’m just going to sit in the car and get some work done.”
“You’ll do no such thing. What if I fall on my way to the stable?”
“Seriously?” Greyson asked, giving Georgie a stern look. When she returned his glare with an impish twinkle in her eyes, he asked, “Gram, why are we really here?”
“Because,” she said slowly, as though explaining to someone who wasn’t all that bright, “Dr. Stevens believes horse therapy will help me regain most if not all of my mobility. It’s certainly worth a try, wouldn’t you say?”
“I don’t think what I have to say really matters here, Gram,” Greyson muttered as he opened his car door. He walked around the car, nose wrinkling slightly at the smell of manure and horse sweat. As he opened his grandmother’s door he said, “You don’t always have to try everything a doctor recommends, you know.”
Georgie scoffed. “Quit being such a snob. Now come on, I don’t want to be late for my session.”
Greyson bit back a sigh and led his grandmother to a pavilion where a young woman was sitting at a table, hunched over a book. His breath caught in his throat as she looked up and he recognized Hope smiling at them. “Miss Fields,” he said, realizing why his grandmother had suddenly taken an interest in horse therapy.
“Around here we aren’t quite so formal. You can just call me Hope,” she replied, an icy undercurrent to her tone. He grimaced, realizing she had obviously not forgiven him for his remarks the previous day. Hope turned to Georgie with a smile. “I was so happy to see your name on our list. I’d completely forgotten to see if you were interested in trying horse therapy as part of your recovery regime.”
“Not to worry dear, Dr. Stevens told me wonderful things about your program.”
Hope grinned. “I’ll bet he did. Well, there are a few papers for you to sign and read through and then we can get started.” She handed Georgie a clipboard. “While you’re going over these, I’ll go get Dumpling saddled up.”
Greyson watched Hope disappear into the stable before rounding on his grandmother. “Dr. Stevens never mentioned horse therapy, did he?”
“Well I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t. I haven’t been on horseback in many years,” Georgie said with a wistful sigh. “I’ve rather missed it honestly.” She glanced at the clipboard. “My, my, this is a handy little stack of papers. Do you think you could help me, dear?”
“Here,” he said, taking the clipboard and leading his grandmother to a seat near the table. He read over his grandmother’s shoulder, as much as he could as she skimmed through each page and signed it with a flourish. When finished, Greyson set the clipboard on the table before sitting once more next to his grandmother. “Gram, I don’t suppose you’d considered moving?”
Her eyes twinkled as she said, “You’re not that big, dear, you fit just fine on that chair.”
Greyson scowled at her. “That’s not what I meant.”
She chuckled. “I know.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
/> He rolled his eyes. “Would you consider it?”
Georgie gave him a long look. “You think I can’t take care of myself anymore?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why would you want me to move?” she asked. “Blessings has everything I could possibly need. It’s where my ancestors settled. Our family has made all sorts of history in this little town. And it’s where I’ve lived my whole life.”
“I get that, but don’t you sometimes wish you were closer to family?” Greyson asked.
“I keep trying to get some of you to move closer. You’re the closest I’ve gotten,” Georgie said with a smile. “Besides, I couldn’t possibly leave the Montgomery homestead.”
“But Gram, it’s just a house.”
Georgie glared at him, her blue eyes snapping angrily. “It is not just a house. I was born in that house. And God willing, I’ll die in that house.”
Greyson shuddered. “That is the most backward and disturbing thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Why should it be? It’s the truth.” Georgie patted his arm. “Greyson, dear, I know how old I am. And I know my little episode gave you a scare.”
“Little episode?” Greyson repeated. “A stroke is hardly a little episode.”
“Yet, I’m still here,” Georgie pointed out. “Believe me when I say, you’ll never get me to live anywhere else. Your parents and aunts and uncles have tried more times than I can count.”
“But why, Gram? I hate the idea of you being out here so alone.”
“I’m not alone, Greyson. You’re only an hour away and I’ve got Hope right next door. Plus a host of friends and neighbors who are willing and able to come at a moment’s notice.”
The sound of hooves clopping towards them drew Greyson’s attention. Hope led a pale golden horse out of the stable. “This is Dumpling,” she said as she neared them.
Georgie squealed like a young girl as she rose from her chair and walked to the horse. She stroked its neck, and crooned at it like she would a baby. “She’s absolutely perfect.”
Bless His Heart Page 2