THE BEST MAN

by Linda Turner

  She looked so miserable that Nick had to laugh. "If I remember correctly, you had a bathing suit when you were sixteen that showed a heck of a lot more skin than your bra and panties, so I wouldn't worry about that if I were you. And what's a few tears among friends? After what you'd just been through, I figured you were entitled."

  He meant to set her at ease, but the words were hardly out of his mouth when her eyes flooded. "Well, damn!" he swore. "I've gone and made you cry again. I'm sorry, Mer. I shouldn't have said anything."

  "It's not you," she choked, swiping at her tears before they could ruin her mascara. "It's me. I swore I wasn't going to do this. I hate crying!"

  In all the years that he'd known her, Nick could only remember her crying a handful of times—once, when she broke her arm when she was eight, then again when her dog was run over by one of the ranch hands when she was twelve. That was when she'd decided to become a veterinarian when she grew up. But it was when her father died that she'd been nearly inconsolable. Nick hoped he never saw her cry like that again, but last night, she'd come awfully close.

  "There's nothing wrong with crying, Merry," he said quietly. "It's only natural. You're grieving."

  She hadn't thought of it that way, but he was right. She was grieving for something that had died—her relationship with the man she loved—and she hadn't even known there was a problem. "I feel so stupid," she sniffed. "This didn't just happen. There had to be signs along the way that something was wrong, and I didn't see them."

  "Neither did I, and I'm his best friend," he replied. Pulling out a chair for her at the kitchen table, he sat across from her and confided, "I thought we were as close as brothers, but he never said anything about having any doubts about getting married. In fact, I thought he couldn't wait. These last few months were the happiest I've ever seen him."

  "Then what happened? If he was so happy, why did he run out on me?"

  He shrugged and could only guess. "I still think he had a bad case of jitters and just bolted in pure panic. You know how he jumps to conclusions—he gets a headache and he thinks he's got a brain tumor. Yesterday, all it would have taken was one little doubt and he'd have convinced himself that the two of you were headed for disaster and he had to do something to stop it. So he gave into blind fear and ran. That doesn't mean he won't come back. He just needs to work some things out and put them in perspective."

  She wanted to believe him, but she just couldn't. Not yet. "And how long is it going to take him to do that? A week? A month? Six years?"

  That was a question Nick didn't have any answers for. He just wanted Merry to be happy, even if he was nowhere in the picture. If that meant she waited a lifetime for Thomas to come to his senses, then so be it. "I don't know," he said with a shrug. "That's something the two of you will have to come to terms with. Why don't you let me call him for you?" he suggested. "You need to talk, the sooner the better. I can make a few phone calls, track him down—"

  "No!"

  "But it's the only way you're going to work this out."

  With her chin set at that stubborn angle that meant she wasn't going to budge come hell or high water, she shook her head. "If Thomas comes back to me, it has to be because that's what he wants, not because you or I or anyone else talked him into it."

  Nick could understand her reasoning—her wounded pride wouldn't let her accept anything else—but that didn't mean he had to like it. Still, it was her decision to make. "Whatever you say," he said with a sigh of defeat. "It's your call."

  * * *

  Considering how vehement she'd been, Nick had every intention of respecting her wishes. She was the one who'd been left standing at the altar in front of the whole town, and if Thomas wanted to make peace with her, she had every right to demand that he be the one to make the first move. Nick would have done the same thing if he'd been in her position.

  But when he took her home a little later, hanging on to that resolve wasn't as simple as he'd have liked. The minute she stepped into her house and looked around, she stiffened, her blue eyes dark with distress. Thomas's things were spread about her living room and the rest of the house—everywhere she looked, she was reminded of him.

  She'd known they were there, of course, but that didn't make the situation any less painful for her. Swearing, Nick remembered too late that he and Joe and Zeke had promised to take all of Thomas's things over to his mother's so she could store them for him until he made arrangements to have everything shipped back to Chicago. They should have done that before Merry went home, dammit, but with everything that had happened last night, he'd completely forgotten about it. And now Merry was the one having to pay the price for that.

  He only had to take one look at the rigid set of her jaw to know that she was hurting.

  "Look, there's no reason that you have to deal with this," he said gruffly, moving to step in front of her and block her view of the rest of the house. "Go to your mother's for the rest of the day, and I'll call your brothers to help me pack up Thomas's stuff and get it out of here. You don't even have to see it."

  He was giving her an easy way out—all she had to do was politely thank him and turn around and walk out. But she'd never taken the easy way out and she wasn't about to start now. This was her house—and her mess to clean up.

  Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her chin. "There's no reason to drag my brothers into this. If you'll help me, the two of us can have everything packed and out of here within an hour."

  "You know I'll help," he replied, scowling, "but you don't have to punish yourself this way."

  She didn't consider it punishment. "I'm putting my house back in order and reclaiming it for myself. I'll feel better about myself if I have a hand in that."

  Put that way, he had no choice but to admit she was right, so they spent the rest of the morning repacking Thomas's possessions in the boxes that were still in Merry's garage. If it had been left to him, Nick would have dumped everything in garbage sacks and hauled it out that way, but Merry would have none of it. She meticulously folded every piece of clothing before putting it away in a box, then wrapped any breakable personal items in newspaper to protect them in transit. And with every box that was taped shut and hauled out to her truck, Merry became quieter and quieter. She was packing away her hopes and dreams and what might have been, and it hurt.

  She didn't cry, but the pain in her eyes was impossible to hide, and just watching her made Nick want to throw something. Damn Thomas's miserable hide! He wasn't going to get away with this! The bastard needed to know that the pain he'd caused her hadn't stopped when she'd left the church.

  "You're not going with me to Mrs. Cooper's," he said flatly when the last box was carried out of the house and loaded into her truck.

  "But you'll need help unloading everything."

  "I can handle it."

  Not giving her a chance to argue further, he took the keys from her and climbed behind the wheel of her truck. When he drove off a few seconds later and glanced in the rearview mirror, she was still standing where he'd left her in the drive, her shoulders drooping, looking lost and forlorn and so damn lonely that it hurt just to look at her.

  It was then that he decided that he was taking matters into his own hands and calling Thomas.

  Merry would, of course, be furious with him when she found out what he'd done, but that couldn't be helped. He couldn't stand seeing her so unhappy. If that meant he had to track down Thomas and drag him back to her, then by God, that's what he was going to do. Merry might resent it at first, but that was a chance he was just going to have to take. Once she and Thomas made up, she'd forgive him quick enough.

  His mind made up, he drove straight to Mrs. Cooper's. He'd never cared for her himself—she had a sharp tongue and little sympathy for other people—but when she opened the door to him and saw Merry's truck in her drive, her first concern was for Merry. "Oh, Nick, how is she? I wanted to call her, but she was so upset yesterday, and I thought it might be better if I kep
t my distance."

  "She's coming to grips with everything," he said, "but I don't think she feels like talking to anyone yet."

  "Of course not. I understand." Looking past him to the truck in the drive, she didn't have to ask what was in all the boxes in the back. "I suppose you've brought Thomas's things."

  He nodded solemnly. "Since he gave up his apartment last week, I didn't know what else to do. I was hoping you'd heard from him."

  "No," she said regrettably. "I left a message with his old law firm in Chicago in case he went back there, but he hasn't called. I think he's too embarrassed."

  After what he'd done, he should have felt a hell of a lot more than just embarrassment, Nick thought irritably, but that wasn't something he felt comfortable telling Maxine Cooper. She was his mother—she had to defend him even when there was no excuse for what he'd done. "If he does call, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell him I need to talk to him. Now, where would you like me to put his things?"

  At her direction, he stored the boxes in her garage and worked up a sweat doing it. And with every box, every piece of furniture he lifted, the more his resentment grew. When he'd first realized that Thomas was actually going to jilt Merry, he'd been stunned, but now he had to wonder why he'd been so surprised. An only child born late in life to parents who'd long since given up hope that they would ever have children, Thomas had been spoiled and pampered and indulged from the moment he realized he only had to cry to get what he wanted. And anytime he got into trouble, his mother had always been there to bail him out and make everything all right. This time, however, she couldn't do that. Thomas had to clean up his own mess, and by God, Nick was going to see that he did it!

  His jaw set, Nick unloaded the last box, accepted Maxine's thanks, and headed for his office. He'd expected it to take more than a few phone calls to track Thomas down, but he hit pay dirt when he called the manager of the apartment complex where Thomas was living in Chicago when his mother had fallen and broken her hip. Thomas had claimed he'd given the place up once he decided to move back to Liberty Hill months ago, but that, apparently, had been a lie. He still had the apartment.

  The son of a bitch! Nick thought furiously. Even then, he'd had doubts. He'd kept a place to go back to in Chicago in case his new life with Merry didn't work out, and he'd never said a word to anyone. All this time, he'd let Merry think he loved her without reservation when nothing could have been further from the truth.

  If he could have gotten his hands on him at that moment, Nick wasn't sure what he would have done, but it wouldn't have been pretty. Fortunately for Thomas, he was a thousand miles away, but that didn't mean Nick couldn't tell him what he thought of him. In a matter of minutes, he had his new, restricted phone number.

  "You son of a bitch!"

  To his credit, Thomas didn't pretend not to recognize his voice. "How'd you find me?"

  "It wasn't difficult once I realized you never gave up your old apartment," Nick said coldly. "Do you have any idea what this would do to Merry if she found out about it?"

  "You're not going to tell her, are you?"

  Infuriated that Thomas even had to ask that, he snarled, "What do you care? You ran off and left her. At the church, for God's sake!"

  "I told you why—" he began.

  "But you didn't tell her," Nick retorted. "And she's the one who's entitled to an explanation. Dammit, man, call her! She loves you, and I know if you just talked to her, the two of you could work this out."

  For a moment, he thought he'd finally talked some sense into him. Thomas hesitated, obviously considering the suggestion, but then just when Nick thought he had convinced him to do the right thing, he said quickly, "No! I can't handle talking to her right now. It's too soon. I'm sorry, Nick. Maybe later."

  "Dammit, I'm not the one you should be apologizing to!"

  That was as far as he got. Without another word, Thomas hung up. Swearing, Nick slammed down the phone. Jackass!

  * * *

  Miserable, Merry never knew how she got through the next week. Friends made a point of calling her and asking her out so she wouldn't have so much time to herself, but it didn't help. Even surrounded by a crowd of friends, she'd never been so lonely in her life.

  But it was the nights—and the silence of her own thoughts—that nearly drove her over the edge. There was no one to talk to, no one to distract her from the hurt that wouldn't go away. She would lie for hours, staring at the ceiling, her eyes burning from the tears she wouldn't allow herself to shed. And when she finally did fall asleep, she dreamed again and again of a nightmare wedding at a gothic church, where the guests were all corpses and the groom was a skeleton that turned to dust and blew away before her very eyes.

  If she hadn't had her work to throw herself into, she didn't know what she would have done. Her clinic was located just next door to her house, which made it easy for her to go in early and stay late. Ruby, her receptionist, warned her she was going to collapse if she didn't quit pushing herself so hard, but the only peace she found was at the clinic. When she worked, she could forget her own pain and concentrate instead on that of the sick and injured animals she treated and nursed back to health.

  Most days, she didn't even take a lunch break, but just grabbed bites of a salad in between patients. Frowning in disapproval, Ruby, who never ate anything the color of grass, could only shake her head. "If all you're going to eat are those weeds, at least sit down for a few minutes and give yourself time to digest them. You haven't stopped moving since I got here this morning."

  "Can't," she said as she swallowed a quick bite, then started mopping up the puddles left in examining room one by the litter of puppies she'd just examined. "Tawny James will be here any minute with Tiger and Sammy, and this time I plan to be ready for them."

  The last time Tawny had brought her cat in for fur balls, her three-year-old son, Sammy, had opened every drawer and cabinet in the examining room and practically destroyed the place. Merry didn't intend to let that happen again. Grabbing the keys, she started locking every cabinet and drawer in sight. "There," she said in relief just as the bell on the front door jingled merrily. "Just in time!"

  But the new arrival wasn't Tawny and her little terror but Nick. For the last week, he'd made it a practice to stop by whenever he was in the area. He'd claimed he was just taking a break and wanted to visit, but Merry knew better. He was keeping an eye on her, making sure she was all right, and she appreciated that. But when he walked in with a large cardboard box in his hands and a grim look on his angular face, she knew this wasn't a social visit.

  "Whatever it is, bring it in here," she said quickly, pushing open the door to the second examining room. "What happened?"

  "Harvey was on call out at Virginia Sawyer's place when he was bit by a fox," he said as he set the box on the examining table. "He had to kill it, but I thought you should take a look at it. He said it ran right at him."

  In the process of pulling on gloves, Merry looked up at him sharply. That wasn't normal behavior at all for usually shy foxes, and they both knew. But Nick's deputy, Harvey, wasn't the kind to embellish a story. "You think it's rabid?"

  His expression somber, he shrugged. "I don't know. Harvey said it wasn't foaming at the mouth, but it was definitely aggressive. Apparently, it's been hanging around Virginia's place for a couple of days, and that poodle of hers—Boo-Boo—kept running it off. When she heard a noise in her garage, she called the office because she thought it was an intruder. When Harvey saw it was a fox, he gave it plenty of room and thought it would run into the woods, but it came right at him and the dog."

  Merry didn't like the sound of that at all. "If it had a den nearby—which it shouldn't have—it might have taken on the dog, but not Harvey, too. Where did it bite him?"

  "On the hand. He tried to scare it off, but it just kept coming back at him. He didn't have any choice but to shoot it. He said it was the craziest thing he'd ever seen in his life."

  "What about Boo-Boo? Did he get b
it, too?"

  He nodded. "He gave as good as he got, but the fox tore up his front leg pretty good. Harvey told Virginia she needed to bring him in so you could take a look at him, but she thought she could do it herself. She didn't seem too concerned about rabies. Has Boo-Boo had his shots?"

  Merry swore softly. "No."

  Every year, she pushed the local citizens to get their pets vaccinated, but since there hadn't been a case of rabies in the county in years, most people didn't see the need. She hadn't been able to convince them that that could change in a heartbeat. If her hunch was right, Virginia Sawyer was about to find that out the hard way.

  "I hope he doesn't have to be put down," she said, "but it doesn't look good. He'll have to be quarantined, of course. You told her that, didn't you?"

  Nick nodded. "You know how stubborn she is. I tried to convince her that it would be easier on her if she let you take care of that, but she insisted that Boo-Boo would be much more comfortable right there in his own home."

  There was no question that the dog would be happier at home, but watching any pet develop signs of rabies was not something Merry would wish on anyone. "I can't force her to bring him in, but I'll call her and explain what she could be facing. In the meantime, I'll send the fox to the state lab this afternoon. Harvey knows he can't wait for the test results to come back to get shots, doesn't he?"

  "He's over at the hospital right now," he replied. "The nurses are probably getting a earful. He doesn't like needles."

  The situation wasn't funny, but Merry couldn't help but smile at the thought of big, six-foot-four Harvey cringing at the sight of a little needle. "Has he asked for sick leave yet?"

  "A week," Nick said with a chuckle. "You know Harvey—he never misses a chance to skip work and go fishing. He probably loaded his fishing gear into his camper before he went to the doctor."

  His smile fading as he watched her fill out paperwork for the state lab, he frowned at the dark shadows under her eyes. "So how are you? Sleeping any better?"