Keeping Up Appearances (A Gass County Novel Book 4)

by Isabell Lawless

  ~ Chapter Eight ~

  “Valerie, dear, dad and I are so pleased to hear you are back in the civilized world. We’ve prayed so hard for you.” The tone on the answering machine went silent for a second or two. “Please give us a call back when you have a chance. Oh, and this is mom, should that not have been clear. God bless.”

  Who else? Valerie thought as she caught the bread out of the toaster. She hadn’t called to tell them she had returned yet, somehow they’d already received notice she had landed and had her cell phone reconnected.

  “The force is strong with that one,” she murmured to Humpty, wide-eyed eying the knife from which a large white clump of glorious cream cheese was about to fall. “You’ll get to lick the knife when I am finished using it, okay?” She patted Humpty gently on the head, only to have him avoid her loving touch focusing all his invisible power on the knife in her other hand should the odds be in his favor and the cheese would fall before she’d had time to spread a thick white blanket of it on top of the bread.

  This was civilized heaven, she thought as she sat by the newly purchased birch wood table in the kitchen nook of the old Victorian she’d been fortunate to snag from a friendly real estate agent the moment she’d called. She’d gotten in contact with the senior veterinarian, whom she was nervously replacing at the local vet clinic. Today. The bagel felt like a gooey lump inside her mouth and the coffee hard to swallow. A purr came from beside her on the table, as Humpty felt the wait for another taste of cheese was too long and demanded immediate gratification.

  “I’m so glad you came with me, Humpty. To leave you abroad would have broken my heart.”

  She was the first one to the clinic this morning. She’d made sure the first day would go by without any major hiccups, knowing a first day of anything, anywhere, with anyone would be awkward and tense. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of her qualifications for the job, that she had little but some knowledge of the town and its people as she had once lived somewhat close to its borders.

  She’d written down the code to the door and the instructions of how to disarm the facility, all important information from her almost daily conversations with the retired Dr. Sanchez over the phone. Sanchez had been one of those immigrants from South America most of the seniors in town had been reluctant to get to know, until one heroic event. That cold February morning when he treated old mayor Goodwin’s poodle from congestive heart failure by placing one of the first canine pacemaker’s in the young dog’s heart through a lengthy, but successful surgery. Ever since, Sanchez was met with warmth and love.

  She wasn’t sure she could ever fill his shoes but he’d assured her the regular clientele were determined to stay local, supporting the town’s small businesses instead of the larger animal hospital two counties away, which did sport newer equipment but to which is was far longer to travel. Sad on one part, but staying local was something she appreciated and one day she would build this clinic into something that could save even more lives than poodles with heart failure, or cats in need of annual shots and deworming.

  She hadn’t as much as turned on the lights in the narrow corridor leading down to one larger boarding room when the bell on the front door gave off a cheerful jingle and with a deep breath she returned from the end of the corridor to the front desk where she hoped Melissa, Dr. Sanchez knowledgeable assistant, was at work. Only today Valerie was thirty minutes early to breathe in the essence of the facility she now called her own before someone else took the space and realized Melissa had yet to arrive.

  “I’ll be damned.”

  The look on the man’s face was of utter shock, then he bent backwards and gave out a loud laugh, echoing the space and the sparsely decorated light green walls of the entry. “This is unbelievable.”

  Valerie stood there in silence looking him over and slowly shook her head in the same incredulity. Yet, the meeting had been inevitable.

  “I need to get him over here, el pronto.” As the man turned, Valerie ran after him and grabbed him by his uniform shirt to stop him before he made it outside.

  “Brody,” she called and pulled him back inside. Making sure no one would disrupt their conversation she locked the front door and stood with her back against it. “Don’t tell him yet, please. I’m not ready to face him. I’ll let him know when I’m ready, okay?” Was she asking him or telling him? She hoped he got the point.

  Brody shook his head in disbelief, his hands firmly on his hips. His posture made her feel like a subordinate.

  “You think you’ll be able to stay hidden from Bryce in this small town. You kidding me? I’m surprised he hasn’t already been here after the siren of yakking from people coming here with their pets. You should be glad he doesn’t have his dog anymore or it might have been him walking in here getting a coronary attack and not me. Damn, woman!”

  “I’ll let him know, in time.”

  “You will not, ma’am. You have an hour. Now, I need a 20lbs bag of Kibble and then I’ll be out of your way. For now,” he sighed. “Valerie, how could you come here, to this tiny town, and not tell Bryce? It’s not secret how he fell for you on our vacation and then you blew him off like a used bag of bad potatoes.”

  She chewed on the inside of her mouth and was about to answer him when the rattling of keys from the other side of the door turned into someone unlocking it and pushing her into Brody’s hard, wide chest. Lucky woman getting to climb this wall of muscle every day, she thought of the wife she knew Brody had at home.

  Melissa came through the door, pulling out an earplug of bouncy music and closing the door behind her.

  “Good morning, new boss! Good morning, Officer Jensen! She chirped and with a poof dropped her oversized handbag on the counter and went straight down the corridor and started the morning chatter with the boarded animals now awake and ready for their recovery day to begin.

  Brody pulled up a bag of Kibble from the bottom shelf in the waiting room on his shoulder and turned to Valerie before exiting the door. “Remember,” he said with a serious face. “One hour, no more.”

  With that he was gone and she heard his patrol car roll down the usually quiet street now awake with morning life and busy traffic. She suddenly felt her first day couldn’t have had a more nerve-racking start. Well, until Melissa called from the room down that corridor.

  “Severe diarrhea, feces just about everywhere in Mr. Tingles carrier. Might have to sedate the feline again, seeing he’s trying to eat off his own tail.”

  It could just get better from here. Pretty please.!

  ~ Chapter Nine ~

  Station #4 sat in the middle of Main Street in town, between a law office and a corner apartment building. Bryce had never understood why anyone would ever choose to live next to a fire station; alarms going off at random times of the day or night. Being a paramedic he knew the noise level could skyrocket and had done his best to escape all of downtown when he had chosen to settle down. Across the street from the fire station was the quaint but busy downtown bakery. In all honesty, it was the only one. Its only competitor was Rudy’s which during lunch hour served salads, sandwiches, and baked garlic bread. Not a single fluffy cupcake in sight.

  Once upon a time, the three story brick building that now housed the fire station had been a sewing factory, but had since the seventies stood empty until they moved in. There were three large garage sized doors out front, when opened they revealed two fire trucks and an ambulance. At the other side, they had their private employee parking and he was glad he had somewhere to park his bike. Correction, thunder-god-of-dome, not some aluminum frame he had to push with is feet. That was also one of the places where he had a quick daily chat with Brody, as he pulled in to park at his station just on the other side of the cement lot. Small towns made for small talk and he enjoyed it.

  “Why the smirk, Brody? Want to share?” Bryce asked between shoving down bites of a pastrami sandwich at Rudy’s diner. Today, Rudy’s was the go-to lunch place when the bakery down the sa
me street as the station didn’t carry a likable menu or the line out the door was too long when they served something phenomenal. Rick, behind the counter, was one of his high school friends, just like almost everyone else in town, and had skipped college to take over his dad’s diner when the old man’s body had taken a downward spin with rheumatism arthritis.

  Mr. Rudy himself would still come in to the place, especially during the lunch rush and walk behind the counter and chat with the customers. He’d just left the actual cooking and running in and out of the kitchen to his son. It had been a no-brainer and Rick was doing well with the situation. So well that his famous pastrami sandwich had ended up in a local magazine for the region and gifted him a well-earned prize. And some money.

  Brody left his seat at the counter, thanking the barista for the two cups of coffee he was holding in his hand, bringing one back home to his hard-working wife, now the town’s largest farm owner after being a farmhand for several years. Inheritance through resilience and job commitment had held its definite pros.

  “You need to go check out the new vet office in town,” Brody answered with a smile growing wider as he left the counter.

  “Why would I need to do that? I’ve already told you I’m not in the need of adopting another dog. The first adoption didn’t go so well, remember. I don’t have a dog anymore.”

  “Trust me,” Brody put his dark pilot glasses on his nose and turned at the door exiting the bar. “You need to go over there. Absolutely need to.”

  Bryce turned back to the counter and sighed as he heard Brody close the door to the diner behind him. Maybe he should visit the place. A new pet wouldn’t hurt. He wasn’t particularly lonely but he sure wouldn’t mind some kind of company since Marlene had taken the dog with some much else of their common belongings and he sure missed some type of response to his conversations.

  The door to the vet clinic chimed happily as he opened it and let it close behind him. The lack of people was first a major concern knowing the small town would likely hurt losing a once popular business, and also, every good town, large as small, needed a veterinarian. A local facility as well as a portable one, hopefully one able to travel across the rather small county to treat all sorts of animals just like the previous vet. Mr. Sanchez had been a wonder with animals. For a while the rumor was he could speak to them, in tongue if you will. Not that there was ever any proof to this tale but his persona calmed every mammal or amphibian, he even petted a fish covered in white fungus.

  Creatures magically healed under his touch and the town and its animal lovers felt sad when he announced his retirement. He promised to stay in touch with his replacement and should there be questions or concerns he’d announced to Valerie such concerns had to be directed onto international levels as he’d decided to return to his native country of Chile.

  “Bryce,” Melissa beamed behind the counter. “Great to see you again. Looking for a new pet? Heard what happened to the last one. Sorry about it, really,” she mumbled should anyone else in the empty waiting room hear. Not. Bryce pulled the now established sad smile in remembrance of the fucked up day his ex Marlene left his life with both his dog and his furniture. Yet, the only thing he missed was the dog.

  “Thanks, Melissa. Maybe I should take a look . . . any homeless ones or other dogs in need of care?”

  “Dogs only or would you mind a cat, or maybe even a parakeet?” She pleaded and held her hands over her heart in hope.

  “Dog person,” he pointed to himself and leaned on the counter with his lower arms, noticing Melissa shot him a quick once-over in appreciation. Maybe he should take Jefferson’s advice more often and wear things that fitted his body. “I’m not much for felines with sharp claws or things with ruffled feathers, but thanks.” Bryce leaned over the counter to see some photos Melissa pulled up on the computer screen. The local shelter was kept busy even in a small town like this.

  “A turtle maybe, or why not an elderly horse named Rudolph?” She smiled wide and tilted her head.

  “Property not zoned for horses, Melissa, and I actually came more to greet the new member of the staff welcome and get introduced to Dr. Sanchez replacement. Brody reminded me of my small-town manners, so here I am, sorry I wasn’t prior.”

  Melissa turned the screen in Bryce’s direction and stood. “Sure! Take a look at these while I go down and fetch the doctor. Be back in a few.” Melissa turned the corner and disappeared down the hall.

  A few of the dogs unfortunately looked like they had seen better days, which was yet a bigger reason he should adopt someone quickly. But, he was an active guy. He enjoyed running the trail on the Morning Light Hill before the rest of the town awoke, and he was looking for company in all aspects of life, not only for sitting on the couch. A running buddy was what he looked for, a running buddy who would join him for dinners and have conversations on the couch about politics, movies, or dog treats in general. That wasn’t too much to ask.

  In a slight fog of canine thoughts he stared at the photos and was snapped into reality as a pair of purple gloves dropped into a metal trash can next to him and the back of a white smock took up his image. The woman had her hair in a messy bun on top of her head and when she turned his way his heart pushed up into his throat and for a few seconds he felt it stop beating.

  “Fuck.”

  Bryce stood quiet. He wasn’t quite sure for how long. He was just glad his heart had yet again found a way of beating. He took a shallow breath of air and said,

  “Not the introduction I was expecting, not the person either.”

  “Fuck.”

  He watched the color rise on Valerie’s neck as she repeated herself and it blossomed into a deep red on her cheeks. If he looked closer he bet he could see a drop of sweat starting at her hairline.

  “You were not supposed to come here,” she managed quietly and he noticed the shimmer of perspiration on her forehead.

  “Too late for that. Brody told me I absolutely had to come here. For a reason I now understand.”

  “I am going to kill that man. Honesty and bravery, my ass.”

  “Probably not a good idea, Val. I think this works out just fine. You never told me you were coming here and you wanted to leave me in the dark. I kinda see it as Brody being honest and brave. You—not so much.”

  Valerie took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes. “I was going to tell you, I really was. It was just . . . not enough time until I arrived. Even I understand we would see each other now and then in a town of this size. If someone wears red pants the entire village would know in under 30 minutes.”

  “True.” Bryce took a step back and placed his hand on the front door. “Nice to see you’re doing well. Good luck with this place, don’t let Dr. Sanchez down. He’d be disappointed, and so would the rest of us.” He pushed the door open and was expecting a gesture from her, if so just a word, but she gave him nothing. Not a touch on the arm, not a call for him to wait up.

  He sat himself on the Harley he’d purchased after he’d sold the house in which he’d dreamt he’d spend his days. Marlene had killed that dream but instead of burning everything she’d ever touched or breathed on, he sold the property with whatever was left inside it to a somewhat loss. He couldn’t care less. Instead he’d wandered upon a bike shop in Missoula, two counties away during a two day work conference and bought the beauty on which he was now riding. He’d saddled it and taken a two hour detour home just to get the feel of the beast. And what a machine it was. Smooth and dangerous, like he envisioned himself. Not so much in real life, though. The bike gave him freedom and power and he wouldn’t change the rent of his small house at the outskirts of town for a larger sized house and lose the bike. In fact, if it came down to it, he’d rather sleep on the bike.

  He pulled the jacket around himself and zipped it up. After putting the helmet snuggly around his head he let the engine roar to life. It felt furious like a jungle beast awoken from slumber. A tap on the shoulder made him jump and he releas
ed the gas.

  “Yeah?”

  Valerie held her arms tightly across her body, covering as much skin as possible from the cold wind whisking around them. “I was truly going to tell you I was here. That I had applied and gotten this job.”

  “You already said that. This conversation is over.” He turned away and placed his hand back on the handle bar ready to leave when she pulled his head to the side and gave the part of his cheek that was visible inside the helmet a quick peck. Without another word he watched her go inside the vet station leaving him alone in the blistering weather.

  “Now, what the hell do I make out of that?” he sighed and revived the beast, rolling out of the parking lot and back toward the fire station. “Women,” he murmured and shook his head. “Rubik’s Cube is less complicated.”

  ~ Chapter Ten ~

  Morning gave luster to wide fields stretching to life outside his bedroom window. He could wake up to this scene every day. What he would like to avoid was the racket of noise coming from the other side of the street and to his dismay he pulled himself out of bed and after putting on a t-shirt at the foot of the bed he opened the blinds.

  “I’ll be damned,” he murmured slowly and crossed his arms. Not only was there a small moving truck across the street parked in front of the usually empty cottage that had once belonged to Mrs. Jensen, Officer Brody’s great-grandmother, but had since almost ten years been vacant should Brody himself ever want to move in. Bryce had been excited about the idea of having one of his best pals in such short distance. Easy to spend time with drinking a beer, maybe play basketball against what looked like a perfect one car garage, or watch a few rounds of NASCAR on Sundays before the work week once more began.

  He helped himself to a large cup of coffee from the new Keurig machine he’d purchased together with the entire condo after his home-coming from Brazil and he felt delighted to own his very own space, items, now a bike, and maybe soon even a little critter, should Melissa at the vet station find him anything suitable not being a cat, bird, or other scaled animal. Canines, larger ones in particular, had always stood out as being perfect mates for his activities, exercising in particular. He wasn’t ready to let go of that dream quite yet.