by Dora Hiers
As fifteen creatures lumbered her way, she scanned the crowd, searching for one particular animal. Where was Snickers?
A groan sounded from near the fence line. Ah, there she was, the shyest of her herd and the sanctuary’s newest ward.
Snickers sniffed the ground then paced a few yards, dipped her long neck in a jerky motion, and moaned again. She plunked on the grass and rolled, but that didn’t last long. With awkward movements, she got back on her feet and rubbed her head against the combination wood and wire fence.
Poor thing. The expectant mama couldn’t get comfortable.
A bud of anticipation bloomed in Remi’s tummy. This delivery would be her first experience with a cria birth.
“What’s the matter, girl?” Remi spoke softly as she stepped closer to the beautiful silky.
Since Snickers had arrived just a few days ago, already several months pregnant, Remi had scoured the Internet for articles on llama births. With her degree in Veterinary Technology, she could probably handle a normal delivery on her own, but what if Snickers experienced complications?
A chilly North Carolina breeze picked up, swirling dust and bits of straw through the air. Branches of the majestic maple trees bordering the property and haphazardly dotting the lawn swayed in tune with the gentle wind, autumn’s multi-colored leaves drifting to join the dance.
Remi tugged her sweater tighter against her chest, humming quietly as she inched closer. Should she try to entice Snickers to the shelter, out of the wind?
“Come on, sweet mama, you can do this.”
The six-foot animal lumbered back and forth, cutting the same path across the pasture. A couple minutes passed with more moans from Snickers, growing louder and more urgent, but still no sign of the baby.
If Remi was in labor and obviously struggling, she would want a qualified professional on hand to deliver the baby.
Well, that wasn’t happening anytime soon, so why would she allow her brain to wander down that lonely road?
She shook her head. She couldn’t put Snickers and the cria at risk by not having a veterinarian around for the delivery.
She slid her phone out of her pocket and connected with the vet’s office.
“Dr. Randolph’s office.”
“Hi, Judy. It’s Remi Lambright. Is Corbin in this morning?” Please say yes.
“Hey, Remi. No, Doc Corbin hasn’t been in yet this morning. He left word that he had an emergency over at the Whitman farm. I’m not sure when to expect him. Do you need him at your place?”
Remi grimaced. She didn’t need him. She needed a vet.
She’d learned at the delicate age of ten not to depend on a man. When her father—
Jumbo lumbered over to the fence and rubbed his nose against Remi’s shoulder, almost knocking the phone out of her hand. She fumbled to keep her grip while he raised his neck and bared his bottom teeth, flashing a giant llama grin.
Aww. He was trying to cheer her up, the big lug. She smiled, grateful for the sweetie, even if he was a bit of a troublemaker.
But he needed a home, a family, and that’s why he was here. So he wouldn’t be destroyed.
She was tucked way out in the country, far enough away from the big city of Charlotte and secluded from the public’s prying eyes and insatiable appetites for gossip, for the same reason.
So she wouldn’t be destroyed.
Animals didn’t let you down like people did. But it sure would be nice if a man besides her brother or stepfather would show up when she needed him. Didn’t look like that would happen today.
Snickers moaned again.
Remi twisted her head to glance at the back end of the pregnant female. Still no sign of the baby yet.
“It looks like Snickers plans to have her cria today, but the little one’s not cooperating. I could use a vet, Judy. Whether that’s Corbin or his on-call doc, I don’t care. Please just get somebody out here to the sanctuary.”
Remi disconnected and headed into the barn. It wouldn’t hurt to gather some supplies, just in case.
****
“Tell me again why I drove thirty minutes to the middle of nowhere on my first day off in months?” Gravel crunched under Mason Mulrennan’s sneakers as he tossed his sunglasses on the dash and unfolded himself from the tiny sports car, a phone cradled against his ear.
He slid the seat forward and Goliath, his golden retriever, hopped from the back seat and scampered off to sniff the grassy yard.
“Because you’re my brother and I asked you to.” Exhaustion laced his sister’s voice, and he almost regretted teasing her. Almost. But he knew she wouldn’t be easy to live with for the next three months. Six months pregnant and already experiencing early labor signs, Angela’s doctor had just ordered extended bed rest. She didn’t enjoy sitting still, so how would she handle bed rest for that long?
Mason gave his head a little shake, feeling a twinge of sympathy for his brother-in-law, but easygoing Mike would take Angela’s hormonal mood swings in stride. He couldn’t have handpicked a better husband for his sister. She’d done well.
Much better than his choice for a lifelong partner. Look how that had turned out. He blew out a heavy sigh.
“You got me on a technicality.” He glanced around for some indication that he was on the right farm. A faded sign— Forever Family Animal Sanctuary —hung on the front of a huge red barn. “What’s the name of the place again?”
Computer keys clacked in the background. “Forever Family Animal Sanctuary.”
“Okay. Just confirming. Looks like I’m at the right place.”
His gaze lingered on the ancient dwelling not too far from the barn. An appealing name for the sanctuary, maybe, but the rough abode needed a lot of work on the outside to call it a home. Did the owner really live in a converted stable?
With arms folded and the phone cradled between his ear and shoulder, he lounged against the car, keeping an eye on the wandering dog. The animal sanctuary might be in the middle of nowhere, but at least the place had a decent-sized barn and acres of lush green pasture.
Goliath sniffed along a fence line on the far side of the barn. What were those funny looking animals in the enclosure?
Mason leaned away from the car, angling around to get a better look, squinting against the glare of the bright sunlight.
Were those llamas? Cool! In all his travels, he’d never seen a llama up close. He’d make sure to snap a picture of them before he left.
“Besides, this is your baby.” His sister’s voice snagged his attention again.
“Not quite, Angela,” he sputtered. He knew what she meant, though. Angela handled the day-to-day operations of the Mason Mulrennan Foundation, a charitable organization he founded to raise funds dedicated to the protection of animals.
“You know I didn’t mean that literally, Mason.” Amusement accentuated her North Carolina drawl. “But I warned you when I first found out I was pregnant that you might have to handle the foundation’s urgent needs for a time.”
“Yes, you did, but—”
“Of course, when I said that I was thinking about after the baby was born. Not three months before delivery. But you know I’ll do what I can from home.” Her voice quivered.
“I know, Angela. We’ll make this work. No worries. You just concentrate on staying healthy for the baby’s sake. Let me take care of this.”
His sister was an excellent administrator, and their arrangement worked. He left the organization’s routine management up to her while she consulted him about controversial or high-ticket items. But, if something happened to him on the track, she was in charge, and he completely trusted her decisions. It was past time he showed her how much he appreciated her. That would start today, with taking care of this visit so she could cross this last item off her “must take care of before the baby” list.
“Thanks, Mason.” She sniffled and blew her nose. When she continued, her voice grew stronger. “I emailed all the grant applicants to let them know about the d
elay, but from the sounds of this grant request, it appeared as if the need for funds was rather immediate.”
“Immediate isn’t in my vocabulary.” He glanced sideways at the petite makeshift house again and scowled. The entire footprint would fit into his living room.
Maybe he could make an exception in this case.
“It is when you’re strapped in that racecar running a hundred and eighty miles per hour and you see that black and white checkered flag waving in front of you.”
“You got that right.” He chuckled. “I can’t deny that, Angela, but we’re not talking racing. Fans place their trust in us when they donate their hard-earned money to our organization. I like to mull over these decisions, pray—”
“Well, it’s about time you showed up, Doc. Let’s get this party started. I don’t think it will be long now.” A clear voice tinkled to caress his ear. Not Angela’s, and it didn’t come from the phone.
His head jerked sideways, and he fumbled with the phone, almost dropping it. He hoisted himself away from the car in one swift movement.
No. That sweet angelic voice belonged to a leggy jean-clad female who emerged from the barn, long brown hair floating off her back with the gentle breeze, arms weighted down with more stuff than a woman should rightfully be toting around. Not when a man was around to handle the load.
She angled her cowgirl hat toward the fenced enclosure next to the barn, where Goliath dug his snout into the ground, sniffing. “Snickers is right over here.”
“Look, Angela, I have to go. I’ll call you when I’m done here.” He disconnected and caught up with the cowgirl.
He bobbed his head once, acknowledging her, and held out his arms. “Let me carry that for you.”
She squinted at him, an odd expression taking over her smooth ivory face, but finally surrendered the load. Why was she carting around a ton of towels and blankets? And why the strange look?
“Not too often I see a car like that out here.” Cowgirl flicked her head to his sports car.
“No?” She probably didn’t see too many cars out here, period, but he didn’t say that.
She opened the gate and shook her head, flashing a pair of awfully cute dimples. She hitched her hat up with a slight flick of her wrist, and a glimpse of amber highlights sparkling from luscious green eyes caught him off guard.
Whoa! If he wasn’t careful, he could get lost in those eyes, but he aimed to be careful. His ex-wife, Lisa, had taught him all about love and money. Mainly, that a woman loved money, not necessarily the man that came with it.
“Most everybody around here drives trucks of some sort, or rides horses, not little beauties like that.”
Cowgirl crouched and stroked Goliath’s soft fur around his head, her short fingernails scratching the length of the dog’s neck. “What a sweetie!” she crooned.
Goliath raised his snout high in the air as a soft guttural sound came from his throat.
A familiar longing lurched to life in Mason’s gut. For someone to call him by a special name, with love shining from her eyes, instead of dollar signs. For feminine fingers to knead the tight muscles from his achy shoulders after a long day at the track.
He gritted his teeth and felt a huge lump crawl down his throat. He’d been there. Done that. And it hadn’t turned out so well.
She stood and glanced at him, those dark eyebrows arched as she waited for him to follow.
He hesitated, staring into her eyes, searching, more than a little excited to see those amber flints distinctly void of dollar signs.
She cleared her throat and dipped her head, waiting for him to pass through the gate.
Which he did. Eagerly. But at least he wasn’t waving his fluffy tail high in the air or grinning like Goliath.
A soft breeze drifted by, bringing with it the typical animal smells like dung and hay, but he also caught a whiff of her scent. Something spicy and floral. He liked it.
“I usually drive something else, too, but I left it at work.” A smile slid across his lips. Several something else’s actually.
“Oh?” She looked surprised and a little suspicious but appeared to shake it off. She hummed, the sound coming from her throat quiet and pleasant.
She gave no indication that she recognized him. Did she not know who he was? Exhilaration and anticipation took turns causing a ruckus in his gut and finally settled there.
Cowgirl stopped walking, and he sidestepped quickly to keep from running into her with his load. He backed up, adjusting the supplies in his arms. Goliath lifted his snout in the air and wandered away again. Cowgirl didn’t issue any warnings, so he assumed llamas played nicely with dogs.
“Do you mind if I actually work on the delivery?” She pulled out a cloth from the middle of the stack.
“Uh—” Delivery? That earlier feeling of anticipation soured. He frowned. What was she talking about?
She flicked a towel on the ground and slid some gloves over her slender fingers. “Yeah. Snickers is fairly new here, and I don’t want to frighten her any more than she already is. Besides, this is my first llama delivery.”
A llama delivery?
He turned his head to the side and coughed.
His, too. For the first time in years, fear pulsed through his veins.
Yeah, he might have wanted to get close to the creatures, but crouching behind a llama’s backside, waiting to grab a baby llama wasn’t really what he had in mind. His head wobbled back and forth. What was he doing here?
Love it? Buy it here!
How about a peek at Fully Involved, the first book in the Merriville Firefighter Heroes series? He fights fires. She saves kids. Can they stop battling each other long enough to realize they want the same thing? Love, family...forever.
“We can’t win them all, Cammie.”
Campbell “Cammie” Parkson wrangled her car into an empty parking spot on the opposite end of the hospital’s emergency room entrance. Sheesh. Talk about a hike.
Of all the stupid things to say—
If she ignored her boss, maybe he’d think their connection had dropped? She switched off the engine, thankful for the brief period of silence.
Wouldn’t last long, though. Not with the ambulance due to arrive any minute.
She snatched the phone from the cradle and her purse from the seat and dashed to the entry, the phone sandwiched between shoulder and ear, coming awfully close to smashing her nose against the glass entrance door before it slid all the way open. The phone dropped, snagging between her coat and sweater.
“Argh!” Growling, she dug it out and forced herself to slow down. Enough to flick a cursory nod toward the curly white-haired volunteer behind the reception desk and flash her credentials. The wet soles of her boots squeaked down the long narrow hall.
We can’t win them all.
Her supervisor’s words ricocheted in her head until she wanted to spit them out. Or resign.
So, she held her tongue.
Keeping children safe was about protecting innocent lives, about listening to little people who couldn’t speak up for themselves. About valuing life, every life. Period.
Not…winning! Please, God, let this boy survive.
“Cammie, you still there?”
Drat!
“Yes. Sorry, Mr. Alexander. I’m winding my way through the hospital. Everybody in Merriville must be in the emergency room tonight.”
Why hadn’t she acted on her gut instinct last week and went higher up the food chain of her division in the Department of Family and Children Services? If she’d emailed the director, like she’d considered when Alexander had vetoed her petition to remove five-year-old Jayden from his home, maybe then she’d still be dressed in her pajamas, snug in front of a cozy fire. Shuffling the thousand pieces of her latest jigsaw puzzle until they fit and slurping the melting marshmallows from the hot chocolate now cooling on the kitchen counter.
Not shivering in February’s late evening chill, waiting for the rescue unit to arrive at Cherrydale Chi
ldren’s Hospital with the tiny tyke, used as a punching bag by his mother’s latest boyfriend.
What if the older boy in the home hadn’t called 9-1-1? Where was the boy’s mother?
And why hadn’t Cammie found another job yet? Wasn’t there at least one organization out there willing to dedicate resources to educating parents to better care for their children?
She huffed her frustration. Shifted her legs into overdrive again.
“They haven’t made it, yet?” Alexander’s whiny voice startled her, as always, sending a shiver up her spine. And not in a good way. More like a squeaky wheel that hadn’t been greased in decades.
“No. I got an update just before I called you. They were about five minutes behind me.”
“Keep me updated.”
“Of course.”
“And Cammie?”
Her finger hovered above the disconnect button, sorely tempted to ignore the man. When had he ever listened to her? But, rudeness wasn’t in her DNA. And the man was still her boss, whether she approved of his leadership style. Or not. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry.” With his parting words, the phone screen dimmed, and she let out a pent-up breath.
His apology for overruling her petition to remove Jayden did nothing to make her feel better. What if it was too late for the boy?
Cammie checked in with the reception nurse and propped her jacket on one of the handful of vacant chairs in the crowded room. She slung her crossbody bag over her head and paced the tiled hall with arms crossed, slicking her palms over the soft material of her sweater. As if that could possibly warm the stark icicles of fear popping up in her belly.
Every time she completed a lap, she stopped to peer out the glass door. Where was the rescue unit? What was taking so long? She had to have burned up the five-minute lag walking from the other end of the hospital.
Maybe she should ask the desk nurse for another update. She pivoted, but the wail of a siren stopped her. Remote at first, but it quickly overpowered the other noises, dimming the chatter from the waiting room.
