Whenever You Come Around

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Come on, then.” She opened the car door and Cocoa jumped into the driver’s seat, hopped over the console, and sat on the passenger side. Charity laughed again. The dog didn’t care where they were going. She just liked to go.

  Wouldn’t things be simpler if we could all be like that?

  The drive to the grocery store in Kings Meadow took less than ten minutes, even with a couple of stop signs between the Anderson home and the market. There was plenty of parking available in the small lot at this time of day. Out of habit she chose a spot farthest from the store entrance where her SUV was less likely to get dinged by other doors. Then she grabbed the leash and fastened it to Cocoa’s collar.

  “Come on, girl. We’ll find you some shade.”

  Charity walked to the front of the store where she slid the leash over a post. “Cocoa, down. Stay.” The dog obediently flopped down. “Good girl.”

  That taken care of, Charity stepped toward the automatic doors, which opened before her. The woman behind the checkout stand immediately looked in her direction. Her eyes widened.

  “Charity Anderson. As I live and breathe. Is that you?”

  “It’s me, Mrs. Cook.”

  “When was the last time you came home, girl?”

  “It’s been awhile.”

  “Uh-huh.” The other woman nodded vigorously, a smile breaking across her face. She looked Charity up and down.

  This was one thing Charity didn’t miss about small-town life: everybody being in everybody else’s business. Never being able to go somewhere without being recognized. But there was no avoiding it, and she might as well tell Laura Cook what the woman wanted to hear. “You’ll be seeing more of me for a while. I’m here for the summer.”

  “Is that right? Come to think of it, I guess I did hear that from someone. Something about your house getting torn apart. Those old houses are like that.”

  Nobody gets anything by you, Mrs. Cook. Charity yanked a shopping cart free and dropped her bag into it.

  “We’re all so proud of you, dear,” the woman continued. “You know. The success of your books and all. Don’t think I ever got to tell you that face-to-face. To think I knew you when you were a shy thing with braces on your teeth. And now you’re famous.”

  “Hardly famous, Mrs. Cook. But I love what I do.” Most of the time.

  With a quick wave, she moved toward the first aisle, ending the conversation before she was tricked into sharing information she would prefer to keep to herself.

  BUCK’S BROTHER, KEN, RAN HIS HAND OVER THE saddle Buck had finished making the day before. “Nice. Best one I’ve seen of yours.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Ever think of giving up being a guide and doing this year-round?”

  “Nope.” Buck shook his head. “I like what I do, just the way I do it.”

  “You’ll never get rich.”

  Buck barked a laugh. “And you’re gonna get rich as an educator?”

  Ken tried to pull off an older-and-wiser brother glare, but it didn’t work. In a moment he chuckled too. “You’ve got me there.” He touched the saddle a second time. “Who’s it for?”

  “Kimberly Leonard. A gift from her husband.”

  “There’s a city girl I never expected to stick around for long.”

  Buck glanced down at the leather bridle on the workbench. “I guess love’ll do that to you. But I wouldn’t know for sure. You’re the one who’s lucky in that department.”

  “No argument from me.”

  Buck meant it. Ken was lucky. No. More than that. Blessed. He and his wife, Sara, had fallen in love in high school, married while Ken was still in college, had three kids in quick succession, and now, ten years later, were expecting their fourth.

  Buck, on the other hand, had never tried to find the “right one.” Not that he hadn’t known many nice women. Plenty of them. But he didn’t have any desire to settle down. He’d lived enough years doing the responsible thing, taking care of others, paying off debt. He deserved to have fun. To be, as his mom called it, “footloose and fancy free.” Nobody was going to change his mind about that. Not his brother and definitely not some female with marriage on her mind.

  “You getting ready for a trip?” Ken asked, intruding on Buck’s thoughts.

  “Yeah. I leave next week. A dozen boys and two leaders from their church are packing in for a week to clear some trails.”

  Buck didn’t merely like what he did as a wilderness guide. He loved it. And what wasn’t to love? Spending most of the summer and early fall on horseback, riding through the beautiful Idaho backcountry, sleeping under the stars.

  “They’ve got their own mounts,” he continued, “and supposedly they’re all good horsemen.”

  Not that it’s ever perfect, he qualified to himself. Some of his clients weren’t ready for the trips they went on, whether it was their riding skills or their inability to rough it or—worse yet—both. When that happened, a trip could be challenging. But even then, he loved what he did as an outfitter. It was a simple life. He made enough money to feed his horses and pay his low-interest mortgage. And in the winter he had his custom saddle work.

  Changing the subject, he asked, “How’s Sara?”

  “Still tired.” His brother’s expression turned grim. “I’m worried, to tell you the truth. The doctor says she might have to go on bed rest until the baby’s born. Not sure how we’ll manage if that happens. The kids are already helping out as much as they can.”

  “I say it a lot, but if there’s anything I can do, all you gotta do is ask.”

  “I know. Thanks, Buck. I appreciate it.” Ken headed for the door. “Gotta run. Sara gave me a list of things I need to do before I go home.”

  “Tell her I’m praying for her.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  After Ken left, Buck rose from the workbench and looked toward Antton Zubiar, the owner of the custom leather shop. “Thanks for letting me use your tools, Antton.”

  “Always welcome,” the man answered with a wave of his gnarled hand.

  Antton Zubiar had forgotten more about handcrafting the finest leather goods than Buck could ever hope to learn. Which was just one reason he liked hanging around the old Basque’s cramped, dusty workshop.

  He bid the man a good day, then got in his truck and drove to the Merc, where he parked a couple of spaces over from a silver Lexus. He’d seen the luxury SUV in the Anderson family’s driveway when he’d left his house this morning. Had to be the same one. There weren’t a whole lot of cars like that in these mountains.

  Only one person would drive a Lexus and be parked at the Anderson house—Charity Anderson herself. He hadn’t seen her in a long time. Years. But he’d seen her photo in the local newspaper a couple of times and heard about her plenty. A Kings Meadow High graduate publishing a series of bestselling novels before she turns thirty? That was big news around here. Folks were proud of her success. Especially her parents, who were now his next-door neighbors.

  As if summoned by his thoughts, Charity came out of the market pushing a cart full of canvas shopping bags. At least he thought it was Charity. The photos in the newspaper hadn’t done her justice. She’d been a bookish sort back in school. A little plump. Kind of a plain Jane, but nice. And very, very bright.

  Nothing plump or plain about her now. Slender and shapely, she wore skinny jeans, a sky-blue fitted top, and high heels—heels that didn’t belong anywhere in these mountains.

  She turned to a dog that lay in the shade. With a quick motion, she freed the animal’s leash from a concrete post. Then, leash in hand, she grabbed the handle of the shopping cart again and started toward her car. Halfway across the lot, she glanced up and saw Buck. She stopped, a strange expression crossing her face. Almost as if she found meeting up with him unpleasant or something.

  “Hi, Buck.” She smiled.

  He must have imagined her first reaction. She sounded friendly enough now. “Hey, Charity. Is that really you? Haven’t seen you in years
. How are you?”

  “I’m fine.” She used the remote to open the back of her vehicle. “How about you?”

  “Here. Let me get those for you.” He strode over to help load the new-looking canvas bags full of groceries into the car.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to—”

  “My mom would tan my hide if I didn’t help a lady.”

  Charity took a step back, leaving him more room to work. He had all the bags loaded into the vehicle in a matter of moments. After closing the rear door, he turned toward her again. She stood with arms crossed over her chest, looking defensive. As if she didn’t want to be near him. No sign of that fleeting smile. Maybe he hadn’t been wrong about her reaction.

  Hoping to thaw the chill between them, he said, “I like your dog.”

  Her expression didn’t change. Not a bit. “Thanks.”

  Stubborn, isn’t she? Well, he could be stubborn too. “How’s the trip for your folks so far? Are they having a great time?”

  At last there came a glimmer of a smile again. “Yes. I had an e-mail from them last night.” She drew a deep breath, as if steeling herself to continue the conversation. “They’re still getting over the jet lag but are enjoying the sites of London before they head to Paris.”

  “Glad to hear it. Are you up here for long?”

  She didn’t answer at once. “For the summer, actually.”

  “The summer? I guess that means I’ll see more of you then, now that we’re neighbors. You knew I bought the place next door to your parents, right?”

  “Yes, I knew. But I don’t plan to be out and about much. I’ll be writing most of the time. And listen, I really must get back to the house. I’ve got lots to do.”

  Buck couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten the brush-off from a woman. It irritated him more than it should, and now he was the one who wanted to leave. “Sure. Don’t want to keep you. I’ll take the cart in. That’s where I was headed anyway.”

  At least going inside the store was what he’d intended. But things quickly went awry. Charity started to turn. Then she gave a little squeal of surprise and swayed to the side, looking as if she might topple over. Buck shoved the cart away and grabbed for her, but before he took hold, something caught him from the behind his knees, causing them to buckle. Next, his legs were yanked out from under him. He tried to break his fall with his hand. Despite it, he hit the ground hard.

  For one blessed moment he felt nothing but surprise. Then the pain shot through him. A white-hot haze of agony. So bad he couldn’t be sure where in his body it came from. Not good. He closed his eyes, sweat instantly beading his forehead.

  “Buck. Oh, I’m sorry.” Charity’s voice seemed far away. “Cocoa, sit. Sit!”

  Buck groaned and tried to push himself up from the blacktop. The pain became more specific as his right arm crumpled beneath him.

  Charity knelt beside him. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t think so,” he answered, breathing hard. “What happened?”

  “The leash. Cocoa. Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  Someone called Charity’s name.

  “We need the EMTs, Mrs. Cook,” she shouted back, looking toward the store entrance.

  At least Buck thought the store was in that direction. The world felt upside down and inside out right now, so he couldn’t be sure of anything.

  “I think you’ve broken your wrist. It’s . . . it’s turned kind of . . . funny. Try to hold still.”

  Better not to look, he thought, closing his eyes again. “I must’ve twisted my ankle too.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “It’s like it’s on fire.”

  “The EMTs will be here soon.” She took his left hand in hers and held on firmly.

  Buck didn’t doubt his wrist was broken. His ankle, too, more than likely. He knew what it felt like—between horses and sports, he’d been busted up before.

  But never at the start of the tourist season.

  His heart sank. If he had a broken bone or two, he was in trouble. He’d have to find another outfitter to fill in for him on the trips he’d booked for the next few weeks. Finding somebody good on such short notice wouldn’t be easy.

  Nothing about this accident is going to help my bottom line.

  Crazy, the way those concerns shot through his head even as he made an effort to draw breath and ignore the pain.

  Chapter 2

  KINGS MEADOW HAD A SMALL MEDICAL CLINIC THAT served the community as a hospital for noncritical cases. That was where the EMTs took Buck after stabilizing his wrist and ankle. Charity followed the ambulance from the market to the clinic and then sat in the waiting area, feeling guilty.

  Why, why, why, did this have to happen? As if I didn’t have enough to deal with.

  She’d felt the spiked heel of her shoe drop into a crack in the pavement of the store’s parking lot. If she hadn’t cried out in surprise, afraid she would fall . . . If Buck hadn’t shoved the shopping cart and grabbed for her . . . If none of those things had happened, maybe Cocoa wouldn’t have been startled and wouldn’t have darted behind him, the leash catching him at the knees. Cocoa was a medium-sized dog, but she was solid muscle from head to toe. She was strong enough to take down a man double Buck’s size.

  The door to the clinic swung open, and Ken Malone strode into view, bright sunlight at his back. Unlike Buck, Charity had seen Ken on a few of her rare visits home. He was the principal at the high school—had been for about five years—and his wife, Sara, was a close friend of Terri’s.

  Ken looked around. When he saw Charity, he walked in her direction rather than going to the reception desk. “Are you here with Buck?”

  She nodded. “I’m pretty sure he broke some bones.”

  “What happened?”

  “He fell in the parking lot of the Merc.”

  Ken’s eyebrows arched. “Fell?”

  “My dog knocked him off his feet,” she clarified with great reluctance.

  Buck’s brother might have had something more to say to that, but he was interrupted by the appearance of the doctor. Charity didn’t know the young-looking man in the white coat and assumed he was the new physician her mother had told her about. Gray something or something Gray. He’d come to Kings Meadow about eight months ago, if she remembered right.

  “I’m Dr. Frederick.”

  That was it. Dr. Gray Frederick.

  “Are you Mr. Malone’s brother?” the doctor continued, looking at Ken.

  “Yes. How is he?”

  “He’s broken bones in his right wrist and ankle. Surgery isn’t necessary, but he won’t be very mobile for the next six to eight weeks. He can’t put weight on his ankle, and with the broken wrist, crutches won’t be of much use to him. He’s going to need help, especially at first. He tells me he lives alone.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “Can you stay with him for a few days?”

  “Is it that serious?”

  “It would be better if he wasn’t alone right at first.”

  Ken ran the fingers of one hand through his hair. “I can help out, but I can’t be with him 24/7. My wife’s pregnant and having a difficult time. I need to be nearby as much as possible for her and our three kids.”

  The doctor’s eyes shifted to Charity. She supposed he wondered if she was the pregnant sister-in-law. Which she obviously wasn’t. But with the doctor’s gaze on her, her guilt over the incident surged back to life. “I’m staying next door to him for the summer. I . . . I can look in on him.” Oh, how difficult it was to say those words. She’d come here to work, not to take care of Buck Malone. Even if it was her fault he needed help.

  Ken said, “We can count on his friends to pitch in too.”

  “Good. Good.” The doctor nodded. “Then I’ll get back to my patient. You’ll have a bit of a wait before he’s ready to go home.”

  “No problem, Dr. Frederick.” After the doctor walked away, Ken sat on the chair next to Charity. “This came at a bad time for everybody.”
r />   “I . . . I’m sorry to hear about Sara having a rough go of it.”

  “Thanks. The good part is that our kids are at an age where they can look after themselves for the most part. Our youngest, Jake, is ten.”

  “Ten? Already?” For a moment she remembered what might have been.

  Ten years.

  “Yeah. Time goes by fast.”

  Sometimes, maybe. Sometimes it crawls by.

  She mentally slapped herself. Stop it! She hated the way her thoughts kept twisting, the feeling of being stuck in the past. Hated it. Even hated herself because of it. Why can’t I just move on? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried.

  “Hey, listen,” Ken said, breaking into her thoughts. “Would it really be all right for you to check in on Buck every now and then?”

  She drew in a long, slow breath, longing to say, No, come to think of it. It isn’t all right.

  Ken didn’t seem to notice. “I know he’ll get help from friends. But, well, it would give me peace of mind to know you’re right there next door and willing and able to help if you’re needed.”

  What choice did she have? The accident was her fault, plain and simple. Who better to help him? Besides, if she didn’t give aid to a neighbor and her mom heard about it, there’d be you-know-what to pay.

  She rose from the waiting area chair. “Give me a call when you’ve brought Buck home.” Fishing for a business card, she handed it to Ken. “When the breeze is right, the signal is strong enough for you to catch me on my mobile phone. Otherwise call my parents’ house line.”