“Buy what? The pasture? Stephen, what the heck do you need with ten acres, a turtle-infested pond and a derelict barn with no roof on it? Did you hurt your head when you ran into that eagle?”
Barbara might well hate the idea and be furious at him for planning something this big behind her back. In place of a wonderful surprise, she might view the entire idea as an intrusion into her business.
He’d be safer courting her with a dozen roses. Still, a little planning couldn’t hurt before he broached the subject with her.
“I will unleash the Bush Hog on your pasture this Saturday morning after I return from my walk,” Stephen said. “With your tractor, which you will teach me to use. Saturday afternoon, we will see where we are with the barn. Then, we will talk to your construction crew about clearing out the barn and building a flight cage either in or outside the barn, whichever Barbara feels is better.”
“I don’t know what to charge for that pasture, even if we did want to sell it.”
“Then find out. A long-term lease might work just as well. Ask Sonny Prather. Didn’t Emma say he owns half the rental property in the area? I will call my banker and find out if I can afford it.”
“Farmland around here isn’t cheap,” Seth said.
“Neither of us has an idea what that means in terms of dollars and cents. Please, don’t mention this—”
“The term you are searching for is ‘harebrained scheme,’” Seth said drily. “I wouldn’t dream of mentioning this to Emma.”
“Aside from the minor problems, Seth, what do you think?”
“Oh, I think it’s downright brilliant, if nutty. But I also think it is a pipedream.” He set his beer on the table beside him. “First, you don’t know what Barbara would think. Second, it’s a totally separate venue from her clinic and two miles away. Third, it would be expensive and labor-intensive. Fourth, you do not need or want a pasture, a dilapidated barn and a turtle-infested pond. Then here’s the biggie—you’re supposed to be writing a book.” He glanced at his watch and stood up abruptly. “Shoot, I’ve left Emma alone too long.”
“I’m supposed to be picking up Barbara for dinner at the café in fifteen minutes.” Stephen also rose.
“You seem to be doing that a lot lately.” Seth raised his eyebrows.
“As often as she’ll let me. Sometimes one or the other of us cooks or gets take out, but since we’re both alone, it makes a pleasant end to the day.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Seth stuck out his hand. “If you’re serious, talk to Barbara before you go any further. I’ll teach you Tractor Driving 101 on Saturday morning, but if you bring down the barn on your head or get devoured by a snapping turtle, don’t blame me. I’m on call, so I may not be around to pick up the pieces.”
Stephen watched Seth run back across the road to his house, which looked welcoming with the lights on and a warm wife inside.
He couldn’t possibly have conceived this folly simply to impress Barbara, could he? Was it all for a bird who needed a place to fly? Maybe he did deserve to be locked up.
He had no idea what this craziness would cost. Seemed, however, like something worthwhile to spend his money on. He needed Orville to be able to fly again, to go back to the life he’d had, the life he deserved. He couldn’t stand the thought of the fierce creature being stuck in a cage the rest of his life. How would Stephen have felt if he’d been stuck in the rehab facility the rest of his days? Plus, after Orville flew away—and he would—the flight cage would be available for other rescued birds that needed a place to practice.
Elaine would have a conniption at a major expenditure for something she would think was not his job.
He wouldn’t tell her, or Anne, or anyone else but Seth, who could tell Emma. He should definitely discuss the plan with Barbara before he actually spent money on the project, but he’d wait until he had something concrete to present to her. That seemed rational, didn’t it?
When was the last time he had really wanted to do something different? The last time he’d had an idea that galvanized him? Made him want to pump his fist in the air?
He picked up the empties and took them with him into the house. Something told him Barbara would rain on his parade hard and from a great height. He’d just have to find a way to win her over.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“HOW COME YOU’RE so cheerful tonight?” Barbara asked Stephen over her steak at the café. “I figured you’d be exhausted after the crazy afternoon we had. I was certain you wouldn’t stick it out this long, but it’s almost Halloween, and you’re still coming in. You’re grinning like you know where all the Christmas presents are hidden.”
Stephen tried to sober his expression. “It’s Friday. End of my particular work week. Seth wants to persuade Emma to stay home entirely until after the baby is born. She’s down to just over a month before she’s due. But she still wants to come in at least one morning a week.”
“Was he meaning to discuss it with me? Or with her? Or me? Seems as though some one should discuss it with me.”
“He and I share a beer after work sometimes and...”
“The big strong men decided for the poor little pregnant woman and her boss?”
“Of course not, but you have mentioned it.”
“It may be the right thing to do. After her last appointment, she told me her doctor is a trifle concerned about her ankles, although her blood pressure is fine.”
“After we finish dessert tonight we will schedule the hours I will fill in until you hire a new vet,” Stephen said.
“Oh, we will, will we?”
“Absolutely. And before you accuse me of being a dilettante, I have scrubbed floors and cleaned up bodily fluids. When Nina and I started out, we were both in graduate school, and after that I was a lowly teaching assistant. We were lucky to have peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. Housemaids and nannies did not fit into the budget. Between Mary Frances, Heather and me, we have the office running relatively smoothly.
“You’re avoiding the other issue, Stephen. You promised to finish your book.”
He waved a hand. “I have until Easter. Most of the research is done, I simply have to write the dratted thing. You let me worry about the book.”
“Well, somebody has to.” She laid her knife and fork along the side of her plate. “If you are serious about filling in for Emma full-time at some point, then as long as we are in the clinic, it’s my house, my rules. Can you live with that?”
“Of course. The way Mary Frances is working out, you may not need me at all shortly.”
“I don’t think she wants to be a full-time caregiver for Herb’s parents,” Barbara said and laid down her knife and fork. “Herb’s mother has a reputation for being difficult.”
“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to move up here,” Stephen said. “My daughter Anne is not the caregiver type, except in the case of horses, but she would have given it a heroic effort if she was convinced I needed looking after.”
“What about your other daughter?”
He opened up the menu to check on desserts and hid behind it. “Elaine figures she was born to rule the world. She likes giving orders. Besides, she’s busy being the wife of a corporate lawyer. She would try to oversee every step I took, blame me if she wasn’t there to check on me, feel guilty, resent that she did and make us both miserable. Or in my case, murderous.”
Barbara had started to snicker at the beginning of his speech and was laughing by the end of it.
“Mark and Caitlyn, my two, figure I can look after myself.”
“Neither is married?”
“Not yet. If I am lucky, they’ll come to me for Thanksgiving, but I won’t feel bad if they don’t. Invariably somebody’s horse colics or somebody’s goat breaks a leg while I’m carving the turkey. My usual Thanksgiving dinner is leftovers at my breakfast bar after they are long gone.”
“Not this year. I’m already making plans. If we can arrange schedules, we’ll have you, Anne, Elaine, her husband, your two, Emma, Seth and Seth’s mother, Laila, whom I met at their wedding. I don’t have that much space in my dining room, but I can make it work.”
Barbara leaned both forearms on the table and stared at him. “Was there an invitation in there someplace, or did I miss it?”
“My treat. The café has agreed to cater.”
“Catered? That will cost a fortune! I can cook the food. Thanksgiving is easy.”
He shook his head. “And have the turkey half done because you abandoned it in favor of a blocked gut? My invitation, my rules.”
“My two will probably go off somewhere with their friends.”
“That’s even more reason for me to host the dinner. Consider this a command performance. Unless Emma goes into labor. Then all bets are off.”
“You said Elaine was the bossy one. I can see where she gets it.” She didn’t smile when she said it.
Velma came up, topped off their iced tea and asked, “Y’all gonna split some apple cobbler with ice cream on top and have some coffee?”
Stephen met Barbara’s eyes.
“You mean I get to choose?” she asked. “Why not? I’ve had enough calories tonight to carry me up to Christmas as it is. I could use some comfort food.”
After Velma left to get the cobbler, Stephen asked, “How come neither of your children went into veterinary medicine?”
“They grew up knowing that if both John and I were doing something we couldn’t stop, they might have to leave soccer practice and stay at a friend’s house until we could pick them up. They were as good as gone when they left for college. They both wanted a cleaner life that made more money and left time for actually living. We get along, but we’re very different people.”
“Don’t you miss them?”
“We talk on our cells and email. They were closer to John, I guess. He was the perfect father. I was never the perfect mother. I couldn’t leave off suturing a gaping wound to get to Mark’s T-ball game.”
“But your husband could?”
“He managed more often than I did. Then suddenly he was gone. That left me a single parent to make a living for us. Don’t guilt-trip me. I do enough of that by myself.”
“I’m sure you are a great mother.”
She blushed and dropped her eyes. “Thank you.”
She didn’t invite him in when they got back to her apartment.
She had office hours in the morning; he had tractor-driving class with Seth. Since she would be occupied at the clinic, she might not find out about his clearing the land. He told himself not to push it.
Who was he kidding? Someone would tell her. Nobody could keep a secret in this town. The menu for their dinner at the café would probably be discussed over Williamston’s breakfast tables. He gave her a friendly good-night kiss, turned away, turned back, wrapped his arms around her and planted one on her.
Her response was all he could have hoped for. His heart hammered to the rhythm of hers. Her head fell back and she leaned against him with a sigh of pleasure.
He didn’t want to let her go. “May I come in?” he whispered.
She pulled away. “Go home, Stephen. Thank you for a lovely dinner.” She escaped inside, shutting the door of her apartment before he could muster a cogent reason to stay.
He turned away in frustration.
Since he’d met Barbara, his vision had narrowed. She was the only woman he thought about.
Why was Barbara different?
Simple chemistry? What was he, fourteen all over again?
He walked through the darkened barn, where the security lights gave only a dim glow that didn’t bother the animals. As he passed their stalls, most stirred at being awakened. One of the horses continued to snore. One stomped an annoyed hoof. The fawns wriggled deeper into their hay and snuffled.
He wanted to check on Orville, but the big bird no doubt sleeping. He’d come visit tomorrow after he finished mowing Emma’s pasture.
Orville’s love life, when he had one, seemed much less complicated than Stephen’s.
He’d give Orville a chance to find his mate again. At least one of them wouldn’t be alone.
The fancy leather seats in his equally fancy new truck had grown cold in the time he’d taken to escort Barbara to her door. He envied the fawns curled against one another warm in the hay.
Seth and Emma’s house was dark. When he pulled into his driveway, he felt as though every other creature in the world had a partner to cuddle up with except him.
He and Orville were cold and alone. Neither of them deserved it. He was working hard to return Orville to his family, assuming he still had one.
He wasn’t interested in cuddling with anyone but Barbara. He needed to see whether she was interested back.
* * *
BARBARA LEANED AGAINST her front door and listened to Stephen’s footsteps in the barn aisle. He wasn’t the first man who had tried to romance her since John died. He was, however, the only man she’d wanted to say yes to.
She really didn’t know him at all. What could he possibly see in her when he put her up against the beautiful, sophisticated women he knew in Memphis. She didn’t think he was the sort of man for whom a woman was merely a convenience. But her heart had already taken one huge loss, been wounded to the quick. How could she risk what was left of her heart on someone who might get bored with her and the novelty of country life and run back to his real life in Memphis? She couldn’t take another chance on love. Just when you trusted it, it jumped up and took the one you loved away from you. Once was enough. Never love again, never lose again. Sound advice.
Besides, there simply was no room in her life for one more person or one more feeling. Her date book was full and bursting at the seams.
Then the whole Thanksgiving thing! Obviously he was trying to be thoughtful, but the word she would use was pushy. Stephen didn’t even know Mark and Caitlyn. Heck, she didn’t know herself whether they were planning on coming home for Thanksgiving. Stephen was turning a quiet family affair into a big party. Did he bother to ask whether that was what she wanted? What her own plans were? Her children wouldn’t be pleased to be lumped in with a bunch of strangers.
She sank onto her bed and dropped her head in her hands. Drat the man! His heart might be in the right place, but he was beginning to get on her last nerve.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED cold and foggy with rime frost covering the grass and the roofs. Stephen decided he would count the bushhogging as a substitute for his walk. His upper body needed exercise, too, didn’t it?
His leg was stiffer than usual. Probably the weather.
He was finishing his toast and coffee when Seth called. “You still game to drive the tractor?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Anytime you’re ready. Emma’s not up yet, but I’m betting she’ll be glad to have me out of the house.”
Stephen rinsed out his coffee cup, stowed it in the dishwasher, slipped on his Wellies and his windbreaker and walked over to meet Seth. The air was still with patchy fog in the low-lying areas. The temperature sat in the fifties. Usually fall lasted until the second week in November, then, invariably, a cold front with high winds would blast through and rip the remaining leaves off the trees. That would be the start of true winter. Today was one of those soft, cloudy, tender days that felt cool on the skin, but not cold.
“This is a prime day for hunting,” Seth told him. “The deer love to wander in this sort of weather. Not too cold, not too damp, not too sunny. That means I have to check you out on the tractor, then make the rounds in my official vehicle to head off the badasses who want more than their fair share of deer meat. I’ll be on call. Emma is at home. Keep out of trouble. Emma wo
uld be upset if you got yourself killed.”
“Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your deep concern. Now, let’s have some tractor tutelage.”
Stephen had driven a riding lawn mower once or twice, but never a big agricultural job complete with front loader as well as bush hog. He went over all the gears, the brakes, the steering, acceleration, the different foot pedals, levers, and took to heart Seth’s warnings about how easily the entire apparatus could get away from him.
With Seth standing beside him coaching, he practiced with the gears and levers until he felt he knew the principles and the placement. He wasn’t certain he’d remember it all in a crunch. Better not have any crunches. “Shouldn’t be too difficult,” he said and hoped he wasn’t lying.
“Don’t get cocky,” Seth said. “Remember you have separate brakes that control each side, so when you turn, you slow each wheel, make the turn and release the brake to start off again. You have gears to raise and lower the front loader and other gears to tilt the bucket up or down. Leave them alone. Don’t mess with the front-loader bucket at all. You shouldn’t have to. It is well out of your way.
“Those levers raise and lower the Bush Hog, and this gear engages it.” The two men worked through the mechanics until they both felt comfortable.
“Whatever you do,” Seth advised, “keep your turns slow and even. These critters turn over if they get ticked off at you. And don’t fall out.”
“How can I fall out? The cab is enclosed.”
“Doors come open. Tractors tip on uneven ground and spring the locks. Brakes lock up. Front loaders dig into the dirt and try to stand you on your head...”
“You, Seth, are a perfect little ray of sunshine. I will be slow, careful, and if I kill myself I won’t sue you.”
“Yeah, but you’ll upset Emma. Time to head out across the road. I’ve already clipped the barbed wire from the road frontage so you can drive straight in.”
Tennessee Vet Page 11
