by Hope Ramsay
Lia grabbed her suitcase and headed toward the door, where she found another sign, this one on a pink Post-it Note that said “please come in.” Had Ashley Scott left that sign specifically for her?
She opened the door onto a center hallway with ten-foot ceilings and dark, wide-planked wood floors. Right inside the door stood a marble-topped table covered with more tourist brochures. On the right was a square room with gorgeous plaster ceiling medallions. The room was set up as an old-fashioned library with dark wood shelves filled with books of every kind.
Lia had managed a few libraries on base and aboard ship. But none of them was as beautiful as this one, with its mohair sofa, claw-foot table, and Persian rug in deep burgundy tones.
Maybe, after she got settled, she could get lost in a book for the rest of the day. It had been a long time since she’d been this free of obligations.
Except for Prince.
She continued down the hall. On the left stood a dining room with a long mahogany table that could seat at least twenty. Since it was almost ten o’clock, breakfast appeared to be over.
The hallway ended in a large, modern kitchen with white shaker cupboards and a marble countertop and backsplash. A matching marble cake stand with a partially eaten chocolate layer cake sat on the counter under a clear glass dome.
“Hello?” she said.
A moment later, a thirty-something woman with dark brown eyes and almost-black hair came out of a room at the back of the kitchen, which might have been a pantry.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, where an old sadness seemed to live.
Lia’s radar pinged. She tried to push it aside but it was an insistent buzz at the back of her head. Like a silent alarm. It always sounded when she was in the presence of someone in need of solace.
Once upon a time, Lia had relied on this intuition. When someone like this woman crossed her path, she’d go out of her way to suggest counseling. And she’d always let her chaplains know.
But her intuition had been faulty recently. So she didn’t know whether to believe her radar. And besides, this woman was about to become her landlady. She was also apparently a member of Micah’s church. So all in all, now was not the time to probe the woman and determine what she needed. But she needed something.
“You’re Micah’s friend,” the woman said. “I’m Ashley Scott. Jenna called and told me you were on your way.”
“Lia DiPalma and I’m grateful for the room. But I really should pay rent for it. I don’t want—”
“No. I can’t legally charge you for it since it’s up on the third floor, in the private area of the house. So, no. Since you’re a friend of the preacher’s, it’s the least we can do to put you up for a few days.”
“So, you’re a member of Chaplain St. Pierre’s church?”
Ashley frowned. “Chaplain?”
“Sorry. Force of habit. I’m trying very hard to remember that he’s a parish priest now, not a chaplain. Even he made a point of telling me that his pastoral mission is very different from what he did in the navy.”
She nodded. “I know. I’m a military brat. And my husband was in the army.” She looked away, her sadness palpable. “I’ll never forget the chaplain who arrived that day with the news that Adam had been killed in Afghanistan.”
Jenna had mentioned this—about her husband being KIA. It explained everything. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” It was a rote saying. It didn’t come anywhere near to touching the grief this woman was feeling.
Ashley sucked in a big breath, squared her shoulders, and nodded her head. Lia had seen this before. No one could know the pain military widows and widowers felt. To lose a spouse in the prime of his or her life was a devastating blow. But the thing about most military widows was the way they carried on, showing enormous strength while inside they were utterly destroyed.
So Lia stood in respectful silence until Ashley had her crap together again. She gave Lia a nervous little smile and said, “Well, let me show you to your room.”
A few minutes later, Lia found herself standing in a garret bedroom with an oddly angled ceiling of whitewashed shiplap broken by a single dormer window. The wide-plank pine floor had the patina of age but wore its dents and scratches with a kind of honor. The room was small, but bigger than an officer’s stateroom, so Lia had nothing to complain about. It was clean and came with a white iron bedstead covered in a beautiful quilt made of various pieces of blue fabric.
“I’m afraid there’s no ensuite bathroom,” Ashley said, “but you’ll find a washroom across the hall that you’ll be sharing with Jackie, my eight-year-old son.
“Jackie’s bedroom is just down the hallway. He’s at camp most weekday mornings, but he’ll be home in the afternoon. I’m afraid he’s not the quietest of children. And he’s likely to wander in here and strike up a conversation because there isn’t a lock on the door. So I suggest you change clothes in the bathroom. I’m sorry it isn’t—”
“It’s okay.”
Ashley nodded her head. “If Jackie gets too bothersome, let me know.” She looked down at her hands for a moment. She was still wearing a wedding ring. “The thing is, he knows he’s supposed to stay away from the guest rooms and the cottage out back. But you’re like a houseguest, living up here in the private part of the house, so it’s unreasonable for me to—”
“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
Ashley headed toward the door. “I’ve left some towels in the bathroom for you, and there are always cookies or other snacks in the kitchen. Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven to nine-thirty every morning.”
“Oh, I’ll manage on my own. I mean, I’m not really a paying guest. And I will be as quiet as possible.”
Ashley stopped at the door. “Don’t worry about it. I make breakfast every morning, and I’m sure the Heavenly Rest Altar Guild will want me to feed you. Besides, the Rev comes by several times a week.”
“Rev. St. Pierre?”
She nodded. “He enjoys talking like a pirate to Jackie. I’m not sure I approve. But in any case, he’s here for breakfast at least three times a week. So don’t feel like you need to stay away.”
“I won’t. But why would the Altar Guild care if I had breakfast downstairs?” Lia asked.
Ashley blew her straight dark bangs out of her eyes. “I’m sure you can imagine how the congregation feels about having an unmarried pastor.”
Lia blinked a few times. “Ma’am, I was in the navy with Rev. St. Pierre. We didn’t exactly have altar guilds, you know. I was like a one-person altar guild for all the chaplains in my care, and we’d always have several denominations at any given time and duty station. Half the chaplains were married, and the other half were not. Some of them were even celibate. No one seemed to care one way or the other.”
“Oh.”
“So I really couldn’t say that I know exactly what goes on among the members of an altar guild. And neither does the Reverend, to be honest. He’s a little out of his depth.”
The corners of Ashley’s eyes turned up just slightly. It was the first real smile Lia had seen. “Well, let me clue you in. They gossip and speculate about things that are none of their business. A lot. And right now they are gossiping about you.”
“So Jenna told me. But I’m at a loss to understand why.”
“Because you’re the first female who’s wandered into town claiming to have known our minister in his past life. And you came here thinking it would be okay to sleep at the rectory. You can just imagine what a bunch of church women are going to do with information like that.”
“But he wouldn’t let me—”
Ashley shook her head. “Makes no difference. In fact, I could argue that his sending you away is an indication of his feelings about you.”
“His feelings? About me? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“So you’re not interested in him?”
“No. The only thing I’m interested in is help
ing him with his mission. And maybe convincing him to take Prince. I’m thinking he needs a dog. You know, for companionship.”
The laugh lines at the corner of Ashley’s eyes deepened a little more. “Well, I guess I’m glad to hear that.”
“You mean you’ll help me? With the dog, I mean?”
“Uh, help how?”
“Convince him he needs a dog. If he doesn’t take Prince, I’ll need to bring him here, and I’m really not qualified to be a dog owner.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be inhospitable but you can’t bring the dog here. Jackie is allergic.”
That was a little disappointing, seeing as Jenna had all but suggested that Lia could bring the dog home to Howland House. But then again, Lia didn’t want the dog. Did she? No. She didn’t want the dog. She just felt responsible for him.
She gave Ashley a big smile. “That’s perfectly okay,” she said. “I can use Jackie’s allergies to convince the Reverend that he needs to step up and take the dog.”
Just then, Lia’s phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and eyed the caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number, with the 864 area code. It was a local call. Probably someone knocking on the clinic’s door, where she’d once again left a Post-it with her cell phone number.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Ashley said, and made a beeline to the door.
Lia pushed the talk button. “Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me. You want a job at the clinic?” Lia couldn’t be sure, but the voice on the other end sounded a lot like Dr. Cuthbert.
“Uh, who is this?”
“Don’t be coy, Lia. It’s me, Dr. Cuthbert. I’ve decided to stay until the end of August, and I need a vet tech and an office manager. You strike me as excellent office manager material.”
“Thank you.”
“So?”
“Um, well, I can work down there until Rev. St. Pierre gets the go-ahead to hire me as his secretary.”
“And when’s that?”
“July eighth,” she said on a long breath.
“So you don’t want the job?”
Damn. She needed the job. But she wasn’t so sure about working with Noah Cuthbert, especially after she’d seen him naked. Her whole body flushed.
“You know, you’re annoying as crap. I thought you’d be happy that I’m not pulling my mother away from her home. I thought you’d like the opportunity to hang with…Prince. I thought—”
“Okay. I’ll take the job. On a temporary basis. When the church comes through, my first loyalty is to Micah St. Pierre. That gives me a little less than two weeks to find you a replacement.”
Chapter Nine
It was almost noon by the time Lia made it back to the clinic. This time she wasn’t surprised to find Dr. Cuthbert there, sitting behind the reception desk with a grumpy frown on his handsome face. His body language screamed frustration.
Well, great. From what she knew about animals—all of it gleaned from watching Animal Planet and Nat Geo Wild—pets tended to reflect human emotions back on their owners. This man sitting hunched over the computer was a far cry from the guy who had fixed Prince’s broken leg. That man had been confident and quiet and gave off alpha male signals.
This guy, not so much.
“Um, what are you trying to do?” she asked as she crossed the room.
He looked up at her with those wickedly intense blue eyes, and it was like getting nailed by a MK 11 sniper rifle shot by Cupid. Okay, so she had the hots for him. Who wouldn’t? But she was working for him now, so the non-fraternization rules applied. Besides, why would a guy who looked like that be interested in someone like her?
“I’m trying to get this goddamned computer system to boot properly.”
“Move. I’ll take care of it.”
“Have you ever used a practice-management system?”
“No. But I’ve got fifteen years in the navy. I’m sure I can figure it out. You can go do whatever you need to do to get ready for patients.”
He got up. He was dressed professionally for once, in a pair of khakis and a pristine golf shirt. He would look great in anything, but she kind of missed the body-hugging compression gym shirt and the Hawaiian print shorts. Or the towel he hadn’t been wearing yesterday.
Her face flamed hot. Boy, it was going to be a long two weeks until the church board cleared the way for her to go to work for Micah.
“That’s a problem right there,” he said, vacating his chair.
“What’s a problem?” she asked, suddenly confused. Had he read her libidinous thoughts?
“Patients. People think the clinic is closed.”
“Not everyone. I mean the last few days four or five people came by.”
“Yeah, and we’ll be sitting around bored out of our minds if that’s all that shows in a day. Plus we don’t have any appointments.”
“Right, because first we need to get the software up and running. I got it, sir.”
“Sir?”
She sat in the chair and told herself not to blush. “Sorry. Force of habit.”
“I’m not your commanding officer, you know.”
Thank God for that. If she’d come face to…whatever with a naked officer, it would probably have been very bad for her service record. Because that sort of thing was not supposed to happen in the navy. It wouldn’t even matter that nothing but ogling happened.
“Not to worry—” She almost said sir. “I’ve got a plan.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. I made a list on my phone. We’ll need to put an ad in the paper, and I called WJON, the local AM radio station, and Steve Hamasaki said he’d be delighted to interview you. In fact, that would be a great thing for you to do while I’m working on the computers.”
“I have no intention of being interviewed on the radio.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m just filling in and besides—”
“You’re not planning to stay,” she said, finishing his sentence as she pressed control-alt-delete to reboot the stubborn computer.
He didn’t say anything else while the computer whirred and went through its boot sequence. But she could feel him there, leaning against the wall, looking over her shoulder, and making every damn cell in her body aware of him.
“I got some bad news today,” she said, feeling the need to fill the charged silence with conversation.
“Oh?”
“Turns out Ashley Scott’s son is allergic to dogs. So I can’t take Prince home.”
“Why am I not surprised that you’ve found a reason not to take him home?”
She couldn’t blame him for the dig. She hadn’t tried to hide her reluctance to take the dog. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make sure Prince found a good home.
She continued logging into the computer system as she spoke. “Well, Jackie’s allergies are legit, apparently, so I’m still trying to convince Rev. St. Pierre to adopt Prince. He’s resisting.” The computer’s desktop opened up, and icons filled the screen just as she swiveled in her seat. “I couldn’t interest you in adopting him, could I? I mean, your mother told me all about Duke.”
Something changed in his face. The lines got craggier, and the twinkle left his eyes. “Everything?”
Her radar went off with a clang. Damn. There was more to this story than Molly had told her.
“Well,” she said, “your mom told me that you loved Duke when you were a kid. And that Prince is the spitting image of him.”
“That’s not the whole story.”
“No? Then what is?”
“He died when he was just two years old. He was hit by a car.”
“Oh.” Her heart lurched in her chest. “Is that why you decided to become a vet?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re a vet without a dog?”
“Yeah. I decided I would take care of dogs but I didn’t want to be responsible for them. So no, I won’t take Prince.”
She managed a short laugh. �
��That makes two of us.”
He cocked his head, and the twinkle resurfaced in as a smolder. “How so?”
“When I was twelve, I found an abandoned kitten. We were living in Albuquerque at the time. Anyway, I knew how Mom felt about pets. She always said they pinned you down to a place, and my mother had the soul of a gypsy. So I hid the cat in my room, in the apartment we were renting at the time. The apartment that had a no-pets policy.”
“Oh.”
“Well, the cat…Whiskers…peed where he wasn’t supposed to, probably because I didn’t really have a very good litter box for him. And he got hungry and made noise, probably because I didn’t have enough money to keep him fed adequately. The bottom line is that the landlord found out, and we were evicted.”
“What happened to Whiskers?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice trembled on the last bit, and she had to look away from him. “Mom took him away and told me not to worry about him. But she didn’t guarantee that he’d found a forever home. Knowing Mom, she probably dropped him off in a dark alley and abandoned him. So, you see, I don’t deserve a pet.”
* * *
Noah had to fight the urge to give Lia’s shoulder a squeeze. All he had to do was reach out. She was right there in front of him, sitting at the computer terminal spilling out her story and her pain.
He’d misjudged her.
Now he could see the bright line between her sad story about Whiskers and Prince. He decided, right on the spot, that if he did anything he was going to launch a campaign to help Lia see that she was not to blame for Whiskers. She’d been a kid. She’d tried her best. Her instinct had been to pick up an abandoned kitten and take care of it. Her instinct had been to bring Prince to the nearest animal hospital and stay with him.
A dog could do a whole lot worse.
What she needed more than anything was to forgive herself for that. And she needed a forever home. Not just a room at Howland House. That would be much harder in the middle of the summer. But he was going to see what he could do about it.
