Then, Abby prepared for her own upcoming ordeal—the group of fifth graders set to arrive at 10:00 a.m.—by rushing through the morning’s chores in order to make time to swim a few laps before her tour-guide helpers were set to arrive.
She swam hard enough to banish her regrets, at least for now. Then she turned to her back and floated, letting her mind drift back to Quinn’s kiss…
Could she let herself imagine a future with him?
Her phone’s alarm shrilled at the poolside; time to get ready for the next challenge. She had just stepped into the shower when the sounds of Georgia barking, horns honking, and kids shrieking filled her heart with terror. The buses were here a half hour early, before any of Abby’s helpers had arrived. She pulled clothes on over still-damp skin, then grabbed the key to the gate’s padlock and ran outside, untied shoelaces flapping. She unlocked the gate and picked up Georgia while the buses barreled past. Kids hung out of the buses’ open windows, whooping and hollering.
Thank God she’d seen Quinn leave early for a carpentry job in New Orleans, and he wouldn’t be back till dark. The noise of this unruly crowd would certainly have made his head explode.
Abby ran to catch up with the buses, holding Georgia close until all four of the buses stopped moving. Then she put Georgia down, and the smart little dog ran under the farmhouse’s front porch and hid.
Abby wished she could hide, too.
Freddy, denied his usual job of sitting on someone’s shoulder and greeting new arrivals, screamed from his aviary.
The bus doors opened and the Hordes of Hell burst free, screaming into the parking lot and beyond. Teachers and chaperones trickled out more slowly, already defeated by the prospect of corralling this bunch of hellions.
“Welcome to Bayside Barn,” Abby said to the first adult who made eye contact. “Aren’t all you Bayside Barn Buddies a tad early?”
The tired-looking woman with frazzled blond hair and an already sweat-stained school T-shirt shook her head. “I know. I’m sorry. The kids on the lead teacher’s bus were acting up, so she decided they didn’t deserve the pit stop we had planned to make on the way.” The woman shrugged. “Sorry. Where are your bathrooms?”
Abby pointed toward the pavilion’s bathrooms while her skin prickled with adrenaline. Every one of these kids was an accident waiting to happen, and they were running in all directions while the adults stood around helplessly, though a few of them had begun to corral the better-behaved kids who weren’t running fast enough to get away.
A bunch of gangly boys chased the chickens around the chicken yard. The pig squealed hysterically from inside the barn; God only knew what some kid was doing in there. Abby patted her jeans pocket, but she hadn’t picked up her whistle in the rush outside. She clapped her hands and yelled instead. “Everybody! Everybody, please listen!”
Nobody did.
Freddy clung to his aviary wire and screamed, then shouted. “Welcome, welcome! Shut up! Bad bird! Bad bird!” A tall boy had found a stick and was poking it through the wire, laughing when Freddy tried to bite the stick. “Bad bird,” Freddy yelled. “No bites! No bites!”
Abby ran into the house, snagged the whistle off the key rack, and hurried back out, blowing the whistle as loudly as she could.
Other whistles joined in—at least one helper had arrived, thank God—and slowly the crowd simmered down. Some of the kids drifted toward the sound of the multiple whistles. Abby wilted in relief. Two more of her helpers had arrived, and another car pulled in a moment later.
Thank God. Abby realized she was shaking all over, trembling with fear that one of the animals would be harmed before she could get the situation under control.
Edna Fitzgerald, the oldest volunteer and a retired schoolteacher, put a hand on Abby’s shoulder and squeezed. “Do you want me to take over for a bit?”
Abby blinked back sudden tears of relief. “Yes, please.”
Edna blew her whistle again. “Everybody FREEZE!” She pointed her whistle at the boys who had climbed the fence into the goat pen and apparently thought they were invisible. “Yes, I mean you. Get back here.”
The boys slunk back over the fence into the yard.
“In a minute,” Edna said, “I’m going to blow this whistle again. When I do, I want every human who arrived here on a bus to be standing in front of me. Got it?”
A few kids nodded, and others mumbled or said something affirmative-sounding. That wasn’t good enough for Edna. “Signal you heard me by shouting, ‘Yes, ma’am, Miss Edna!’” (Amazing, wonderful Edna.)
She glared at some kids who were still fidgeting, and incredibly, they stopped moving. “Now, for those of you who might not have heard, I will repeat myself only this once. When I blow this whistle, you will immediately make haste to stand silently in front of me and await further instruction. Do you understand?”
A chorus of voices answered, “Yes, ma’am, Miss Edna!”
Abby was overwhelmed by a rush of pure love, admiration, and respect for Edna, who had cast a magic spell over these horrible hellions and their ineffective adult chaperones.
Edna nodded approval, then blew the whistle.
As the children ran toward Edna, Abby felt a weak sense of optimism begin to flow through her. She—and the animal ambassadors of Bayside Barn—might make it through this day after all.
* * *
Quinn threw his phone onto the passenger seat and lowered the visor to block out the late-afternoon sun. Driving west into the sunset wasn’t as annoying as the fact that every time he called Sean, the kid’s phone went straight to voicemail. Either Sean was deliberately avoiding him, or he’d let his battery die.
Quinn hoped it was the battery.
He swung by Home Depot and picked up more sandpaper and another bucket of varnish for the bookstore shelving project he would complete by the end of this week. The shelving unit and the sliding ladder he’d constructed to reach its top shelves were a thing of beauty. With a fine sanding and another coat of high-gloss varnish, they’d be breathtaking.
And the final payment he would receive at the end of this week would allow him to breathe freely for the first time in months. The child-support check he’d written to Melissa last month had barely squeaked through his depleted checking account. Without this infusion of cash, the next check would hit bottom with a big clunk. The very thought of what would ensue if that happened gave him heartburn.
But all would be well once—
His cell rang with Sean’s ringtone. Quinn took his eyes off the road just long enough to grab it and answer. “Hey, Sean!” His voice sounded too hearty, too happy to hear his son’s voice. He cleared his throat and toned down his next words. “How’s everything going?”
“Fine. Mom said you’ve been blowing up my phone. I was outside mowing the grass. I’m earning money so I’ll have plenty to spend this weekend.”
A trickle of foreboding made Quinn clench the steering wheel. “You won’t need any money when you’re with me, dude! You know that. I’ve got your room all ready, and I’m planning for us to—”
“Dad, my friends and me—”
“Excuse me? Your friends and who?”
“My friends and I”—Sean corrected himself with a huff of annoyance—“have been invited to go to a game in New Orleans this weekend. We’ll get to stay in a fancy hotel and eat out and everything. It’s all paid for except for whatever souvenirs we want to buy. Mom said she didn’t think you’d mind if we swap out for the weekend after this.”
Quinn gritted his teeth. They’d already swapped out so many weekends that Quinn only saw Sean about half the time he was supposed to. “That sounds like fun, but I have a lot of fun things planned for us, too, and I haven’t seen you in—”
“So now you’re guilt-tripping me, Dad? Really? You think that’s going to make me want to come and see you more than I do already? Al
l my friends are going. If you say no, I’ll be the only one who doesn’t get to go.”
Quinn could just see Sean’s reaction if forced to spend the weekend with him. He’d simmer and fume and isolate himself, playing solo video games and texting woe-is-me texts to his friends who were out having fun. “Fine,” he capitulated. “Go ahead and have fun with your friends this weekend. Just please save next weekend for me, okay?”
He hated the pitiful sound of rejection he heard in his own voice, so he tried to lighten the tone of both his voice and the conversation. “How was school today? It’s final exam week, yeah?” The second the words left his mouth, he realized his change of topic would be an epic disaster.
“I’m not failing, if that’s what you mean.”
“No, Son. I just want to know what’s going on in your life. If I can’t see you in person, I’d at least like to talk to you on the phone.”
“Yeah, Dad.” Sarcasm dripped from Sean’s words. “Sure.”
“I picked a bad subject, I guess. What would you like to talk about? How’s your girlfriend… What’s her name? Jenny?”
“We’re not dating anymore, and her name is Jenea, not Jenny.”
Strike three—or was it strike four? Quinn had lost count. But damned if he’d stop trying. “I’ve been building a huge set of bookshelves for an indie bookstore in NOLA. Did I tell you?”
“You texted a bunch of pictures.”
“Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten that.” Sean hadn’t responded, so Quinn had wondered if the text had gone through. But he knew better to bring that up. Sean would take it as a criticism and become even more defensive than he already was.
“Look, Dad. I need to go. I’ve got exams to study for.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. Talk to you later.”
Sean didn’t even say goodbye; he just ended the call.
Defeated, Quinn tossed his phone back into the passenger seat. The battered old truck’s radio wasn’t worth listening to, and road noise drowned out his cell phone’s speakers. If his ex-wife hadn’t kept all their friends in the divorce, he’d call a friend to make the drive back to the pool house seem shorter.
But she had, so that left him with few options.
His mom was off on another cruise with her husband, so he couldn’t call her. His dad was going deaf but refused to get a hearing aid, so phone conversations with him were almost as frustrating as talking to Sean.
Quinn even thought about calling Abby, but what would he say? They weren’t friends, just friendly neighbors. They’d both been lucky that the little dog’s barking had distracted them last night before they made a big mistake they’d both regret. That first kiss had been hot enough to burn, so he’d made sure the one he gave her at the end of the evening was no more than a lukewarm gesture of thanks. He shouldn’t have kissed her at all, but hell. How could he resist?
He could blame it on the wine, or on her excellent cooking, or on all of the atoms and molecules that combined to make her exactly who she was. He could blame it on his loneliness, or on her fluttery nervousness that he seemed to know instinctively how to diffuse. No matter what he blamed it on, he knew that following up on that steamy kiss with a phone call would have unavoidable repercussions. If he called her today, right after that lucky near-miss, he’d be making a conscious decision to take that relationship in a direction he didn’t have the time or energy or money to travel.
But when he thought of Abby’s sweet, guileless face and her luscious body that looked just as good in boxer shorts and a tank top as it did naked, he wished he did have the time and energy and money to make that call and find out whether they could be more to each other than friendly neighbors.
* * *
When the last bus pulled out of the barn’s parking lot, it was all Abby could do not to fall to her knees in relief. Edna patted her back. “You did just fine today. None of the animals or kids got hurt, and you taught those hellions why it’s important to respect animals. You’ve changed some minds, and maybe even the trajectory of a few lives today; probably even saved one or two of them from ending up in jail. Your aunt would be proud of you.”
“Thank you, Edna. I appreciate you more than I can say. If you hadn’t arrived this morning when you did—”
“You’d have handled it. I probably shouldn’t have stepped in the way I did.”
Abby hugged the older woman. “If you hadn’t, you would have had one more screaming person on your hands. I’m very glad you offered to take over.”
“Well, honey, I was glad to help. This place changes people for the better. It’s an honor to be a part of it.”
The other volunteers had zoomed out of there the moment the buses were loaded, and Abby didn’t blame them one bit. Edna always waited to see if there was anything more she could do to help. This afternoon was no different, but Abby let her off the hook. “I have to take a kitten to the vet this afternoon, so I’ll do all the chores when I get back. Thanks for the offer, though.”
When Edna left, Abby glanced at the clock. She’d have to hurry to get there on time. Quickly, she put the kitten in a travel crate and drove Reva’s car to the vet’s office, arriving exactly on time for the scheduled appointment.
She had worried that this late in the afternoon the office would be packed, but she was in luck; the gravel lot was empty. She parked under a big oak tree whose thick branches were covered in resurrection fern. An old-fashioned wooden sign with green lettering hung from a post on the shaded lawn:
MAGNOLIA BAY ANIMAL HOSPITAL
MACK MCNEIL, DVM
She took the crate off the passenger seat and shushed the kitten who meowed plaintively and stuck her little paws out of the crate’s slots. “Shush, baby.” She kept the crate level and walked up to the vet’s office, a cute clapboard building that had once been someone’s house. A wide front porch with a white rail was bordered by hanging ferns, the colors echoed by a row of white rocking chairs with green cushions. The building itself was a subdued shade of butter yellow with white trim.
Abby tried to open the door to the office, but it was stuck. Or, wait.… Was it locked? She set the crate down and peered through the door’s ornate, leaded-glass window. Seen in a kaleidoscope of rainbow images, the empty waiting room looked like something out of a 1940s movie, a mix-up of mismatched antique furniture that looked just right in the room.
But the only light came through the half-closed plantation blinds on the porch windows; the lights in the office were out. Why was the office closed when Abby had an appointment? She knocked on the door, but no one answered.
Never mind, whatever, the office was closed. “Well, hell.” She picked up the crate and headed back to the car. She was crossing the parking lot when her phone dinged with an incoming text. She checked the screen and unlocked the car door. When she saw that it was Quinn, her heart gave a little skip of excitement.
Her skipping heart calmed down when she read his message: Fence down again, crumpled beyond repair. Goats wreaking havoc, eating everything not nailed down. Please come ASAP. Bring 50’ wrapped-wire fencing, 9 posts, small bag fence clips.
Her heart skipped again at his last, romantic words: I’ll help.
Chapter 9
As Abby stood in the parking lot of Magnolia Bay Animal Clinic, a battered Ford pickup sailed into the lot and rocked to a stop beside her. The vet himself, Mack McNeil, stepped out. At fiftysomething, Mack still had the sort of muscles that came from a lifetime of wrestling headstrong horses, cantankerous cows, ornery sheep, and who-knew-what-else. Today, his jeans and shirt were liberally covered with red dirt, and his short dark hair stuck straight up, not with hair gel, but with a good coating of dirt and sweat.
“Hey, Abby.” He smiled, crow’s-feet crinkling at the corners of his amber eyes.
“Hey, Mack.” She’d known him since she… Well, since before she could remember. She’d spent just about every
summer at Aunt Reva’s farm, and Mack had been good friends with Reva’s husband. “You look like you’ve been having fun.”
“Just delivered a foal.” He grinned in delight; clearly, Mack loved his job. “Cutest thing ever.” He slammed the truck door and leaned on the bed’s side rail. “You coming or going?”
“Going. I had an appointment, but you didn’t show.”
“Awww, I’m sorry. New kitten appointment, right?” He gave a puzzled look around the parking lot, then at the dim, lights-out office. “I don’t know why Patricia isn’t here. But at least I caught you before you left. Come on in.”
She shook her head. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run back to the farm and mend a fence, and I’ve got to stop for supplies first.”
“Aww, please. I’ll feel really bad if you leave now. Come on in and let’s tend to that kitten. I promise I’ll get you out of here in five minutes or less.” He reached out for the crate, and as she handed it over, he glanced around the parking lot with an irritated scowl on his face. “I’ll give you my cell number so you can reach me directly if this ever happens again.”
“Thanks, Mack.”
Abby followed Mack back to the office and—not quite as promised but still pretty darn good—he gave the kitten an exam, wormer, and shots in ten minutes, and gave Abby a tube of antibiotic for the road rash. When Abby asked about payment, Mack waved her away. “Nah. I don’t know anything about billing, and I don’t want to learn. If Patricia wanted to charge you, she should have been here to do it.”
As Abby was driving home, Reva called. “Hey, I’m sorry I haven’t been able to call before now. How’s that new kitten doing?”
Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay Page 10
