THE BEST MAN

by Linda Turner

  He asked her that just about every time he saw her, and her answer was always the same. "Some. And no, I haven't heard from Thomas," she added before he could ask. "I don't expect to."

  "You need to get out more. I heard Stella was having a psychic from Colorado Springs at her place tonight and inviting a bunch of women over. You're going, aren't you?"

  The question was asked innocently enough, but she'd already told her cousin she wasn't in the mood for a party, and she had a feeling Nick knew it. "Stella called and asked you to talk me into going, didn't she?"

  Grinning, he didn't deny it. "It'll be good for you."

  "I don't need a psychic to tell me what my future's going to be. I already know it doesn't include Thomas."

  "So maybe it includes Tom Cruise. It could happen," he said when she rolled her eyes. "I'm sure your sister-in-law knows him."

  Merry didn't doubt that her movie star sister-in-law, Angel, could introduce her to just about anyone in Hollywood worth knowing, including Tom Cruise, but she just wasn't interested. "He's too pretty for my taste," she said with a shrug. "Anyway, why would he look at me when he's got Nicole?"

  This time, he was the one who rolled his eyes. "You're missing the point, Mer. Nobody's going to take what this woman says seriously—she probably doesn't have a psychic bone in her body. But if you don't want to have your fortune read, then just listen to what she tells the others. The point is to have fun and forget your troubles for a while. I think you should go."

  He had a point. She did need something besides work to distract her from her troubles. And she didn't have to have a reading. Stella would just be happy she came. "I'll think about it," she promised.

  Tawny James came rushing in then with Tiger and Sammy, and there was no more time for idle chitchat. Not when Sammy had that little gleam in his eye that spelled trouble. "Gotta go," she said as Ruby showed the threesome into examining room one. "I'll get back to you with the results from the state lab as soon as they come in."

  From that point on, the day was a madhouse. Miffed by the locked cabinet drawers and doors in room one, Sammy took out his frustration on the waiting room by destroying every magazine in the place while his mother was paying the bill. Then, just as she and Ruby got things set straight, a woman passing through town rushed in with a dog that had been hit on the highway. Merry spent the next hour in emergency surgery and was, thankfully, able to save the dog. That, however, threw her scheduled appointments off for the rest of the day. Normally through by five, it was well after six before she was finally able to close up shop and go home.

  Exhausted, she almost skipped Stella's party. She'd already told her she didn't think she would make it, and after the afternoon she'd had, Stella would understand if she passed. She'd call her and tell her what happened and promise she'd come next time.

  But even as she reached for the phone, she could hear Nick scolding her for spending too much time by herself. And she knew he was right. It had been a week now since Thomas had betrayed her, and brooding over it was becoming all too easy. If she wasn't careful, it would become a way of life.

  Resigned, she strode into her bedroom and threw open the closet. What did you wear to a psychic party, anyway?

  * * *

  Stella's house was packed to the gills with friends they'd both known all their life, and they were all thrilled to see her. Braced for questions about Thomas, Merry was pleasantly surprised when no one even mentioned his name. She was, she discovered with amusement, old news. No one wanted to talk about Thomas when there was a psychic among them who could tell them about the future instead.

  "Do you think she can tell me what my baby's going to be?" Sue Ellen Briggs asked anxiously as she pressed a soothing hand on her swollen stomach. "I really hope it's a girl."

  "You don't need a psychic for that, Sue Ellen," Carley Johnson retorted dryly. "Just a sonogram. If you're going to ask the woman something, at least make it worthwhile and ask her for Saturday's lottery numbers."

  "Or what really happened to Princess Di," Stella said. "I think she can talk to spirits."

  That got the rest of the women going, and before she quite knew how it happened, Merry found herself laughing and enjoying the party much more than she had expected to. Dana, the psychic, was surprisingly good. Sixty if she was a day, with the prim and proper looks of an old-fashioned schoolteacher, she correctly guessed without being told beforehand that Sue Ellen was pregnant with twins, Stella had a secret wish to write, and Carley was going to get an important promotion at work.

  "And what about you, dear?" she asked, turning to Merry expectantly. "You're going to have a reading, aren't you?"

  "Oh, I just came to watch," she said quickly. "Please go on to one of the others. I'm sure they still have things to ask."

  "Are you sure? You have a very strong aura. Why don't you let me look at your hand?"

  "Go on, Merry," Stella coaxed. "It'll be fun. You won't tell her anything bad, will you, Dana?"

  "Only if it's something that can be prevented," the older woman replied. "This is supposed to be fun, dear," she told Merry, her blue eyes kind behind the lenses of her wire-rimmed glasses as she smiled at her. "My spirit guides won't tell you anything you don't want to know. They're very careful about that."

  Merry didn't doubt that spirit guides were considerate of human feelings—if you believed in such things. She wasn't sure she did, but she didn't have the heart to say anything in front of the others since they were enjoying themselves so much. "Oh, all right," she said with a sigh, giving in. "I guess I would like to know some things about the family. Joe and Angel have been talking about having a baby…"

  But when she took a chair at the table where Dana sat and extended her right hand, palm up to her, it wasn't the family Dana talked about. Studying the lines in Merry's hand, she clicked her tongue in sympathy. "You've suffered tremendous heartache recently."

  The quiet comment immediately drew startled gasps and turned the mood of the party somber. Stiffening, Merry glanced up at her cousin. "You told her?"

  Her eyes wide, Stella was as shocked as she. "No! I didn't tell her anything about anyone."

  Not looking up from Merry's hand, Dana said, "The only thing Stella and I discussed was the time of the party, where it was being held, and my fee."

  "Then how—"

  "Your guides, dear," she answered before Merry could ask her how she knew anything about her heartache since she wasn't even from Liberty Hill. "They're very protective of you and want you to know that this is only a temporary condition that could have been prevented if the man in your life had just told you how he felt. He has trouble expressing his feelings now, but he'll learn. And when he does, there won't be a doubt in your mind that you're loved."

  Stunned, Merry could only stare at her. If Dana was talking about Thomas, she was right on the money. Merry had foolishly thought they had the kind of relationship in which they could tell each other anything, but she'd been wrong. When it came to how he really felt about getting married, he hadn't been able to work up the courage to tell her the truth. And because of that, she was the one who'd been hurt.

  But according to Dana, this was only a temporary condition, she reminded herself as a spark of excitement flared in her eyes. Once Thomas learned to express himself, they'd work things out—

  Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Merry stiffened. Just because Dana had said she'd been hurt didn't mean she was really psychic. Anyone could look at her and see that she was miserably unhappy. And it didn't take psychic ability to predict that her unhappiness had been caused by a man. That was just common sense.

  Studying the older woman warily, she said, "I don't mean to be rude, but so far, you've really only told me generalities. What exactly can you tell me about this man who's supposedly in my life? Can you see what he looks like or what he does for a living?"

  Understanding she was testing her skills, Dana took no offense. "I'll certainly try," she replied easily, and turned her att
ention back to her palm.

  For what seemed like an eternity, she didn't say anything. Frowning, she traced the lines in Merry's right hand while the silence in the apartment thickened with expectation. Then, just when Merry thought she was going to admit she couldn't make out anything, she said, "He's a tall man, around six-two. He's not pretty-boy handsome, but you wouldn't want that anyway, would you?" Speaking more to herself than Merry, she traced a line down the center of her palm. "He's attractive, though, and appears to have dark hair and brown eyes. You go well together."

  Her heart pounding, Merry stared at her palm in fascination. "And his occupation?"

  "That's a tough one," Dana said with a grimace. "He's been in your life for a long time, but I'm not sure exactly what he does. He's got a strong sense of justice, which makes me think he's involved in the judicial system somehow, but I don't think he's a judge."

  In the quiet that had fallen over Stella's living room, Merry's voice was husky with emotion. "No, he's not. He's a lawyer."

  "Then I was close," she said simply, not gloating. "Is there anything else you'd like to know, dear?"

  Later, Merry was sure a hundred questions would come to mind, but at that moment, she couldn't think of a single one. "No, but thank you for what you did tell me. It helped."

  Chattering excitedly, the others pressed forward with more questions about their own future, so Merry gave up her seat at the table and moved to the couch. All around her, the other women laughed over some of the surprising predictions Dana had given them, but Merry hardly noticed. Her thoughts in a whirl, she could think of nothing but Thomas.

  He was coming back to her.

  Oh, Dana hadn't said that in so many words, but her meaning was the same. If the man in her life was going to learn to express his feelings so that she had no doubt that he loved her, then Thomas obviously had to come back to Liberty Hill. And Merry didn't have a clue how she felt about that.

  If someone had promised her the day she was supposed to get married that Thomas would soon come back to her, she would have at least had some kind of hope to cling to. But there'd been no promises, no hope. A week had passed, a long, lonely week in which she'd had a lot of time to cry, to grieve, to think. And not once had Thomas called.

  Somewhere deep inside her bruised heart, a voice whispered that none of that mattered if he would just come back and convince her that he really loved her. But in her head, she knew that it didn't matter what he said when he finally returned, actions spoke louder than words.

  She would never trust him again.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  «^»

  The normally gentle and mild-mannered golden retriever lunged at her, his teeth snapping, as she moved to shut the kennel gate and lock him inside a run. Startled, Merry jumped back … just in time to avoid a nasty bite on the forearm. If she'd been two seconds slower, he would have gotten her.

  "Oh, Merry, I'm so sorry!" Jack Dryer exclaimed. Lightning quick, he reached past her to slam the gate shut. "Bad dog!" he scolded Lucas. "What's gotten into you, fella? This isn't like you. Have you got a sore paw or something? What's wrong?"

  Observing the wild light in the dog's eyes and his unusually aggressive behavior, Merry was horribly afraid she knew, and she didn't know how she was going to tell Jack. An elderly widower who seldom left his house anymore, he depended on Lucas a great deal for companionship.

  "He might bite if he were feeling miserable enough and a stranger pestered him," she said quietly, "but he's not going to go after his best friend." Nodding pointedly at the sizable bandage on his left hand, she lifted a delicately arched brow at him. "So how did that happen?"

  He shrugged, worry clouding his brown eyes. "I don't know. One minute, I was throwing his ball for him, and the next, he turned on me and took a hunk out of my hand. I was shocked, and so was he, I think. He hasn't been the same since."

  "He's a yard dog, isn't he? You keep him fenced?"

  He nodded. "Except when I let him out for a run in the morning. You know how he loves the woods behind my house. The second I open the gate, he's off like a shot."

  "And you go with him?"

  "I used to—until my arthritis started acting up a couple of months ago and I couldn't keep up with him. Then I started whistling for him from the back porch when it was time for him to come home."

  "And all the times you let him out alone, did you ever notice any bites or scratches on him when he returned?"

  Surprised, he said, "As a matter of fact, I did! He looked like he'd tangled with a cat or something, but he seemed okay. How'd you know? Should I have brought him in? What's wrong with him, Merry? It's something serious, isn't it?"

  She hated to tell him, but he had to know. "Last week, Sheriff Kincaid brought in a fox one of his deputies had to kill when it attacked him and Virginia Sawyer's poodle. I just got word this morning from the state lab that it had rabies."

  He paled. "Oh, God. You think Lucas has it, too, don't you?"

  She couldn't deny it. "I'm sorry, Jack, but all the signs seem to point to it. I'll keep him quarantined here for a couple of weeks to make sure, but I think you'd better prepare yourself for the worst. He's going to have to be put down. It's the only humane thing to do."

  Giving a pet owner that kind of news was the thing she hated the most about being a vet—it didn't matter how many times she did it, it didn't get any easier. Less than an hour ago, she'd had to tell Virginia Sawyer the same thing about Boo-Boo, who was already displaying serious signs of the disease, then she'd gone into her office and cried her eyes out. When Jack left, she'd do the same thing.

  Suddenly looking every one of his eighty-one years, Jack blinked back tears. "Do what you have to do."

  He walked out with heavy, weighted shoulders, and it was more than Merry could bear. Unable to make it to her office, she leaned her head against the corner post of the dog run where Lucas still watched her and cried.

  She couldn't, however, indulge her emotions for long. Not when she had a potential rabies epidemic on her hands. If she didn't want it to get out of hand, she had to get busy. Straightening, she wiped away her tears, then returned to her office. Picking up the phone, she punched in the number to the sheriff's office. "Nick?" she said when he finally came on the line, "we have a problem."

  * * *

  That very afternoon, she began a campaign to inoculate all domestic animals in the area. It wasn't easy. In spite of the fact that three cases of rabies had been virtually identified, not everyone was convinced the county was on the verge of a crisis. So she held a town meeting the next evening in the VFW hall to explain to people what a threat the disease was to them and their children. Less than thirty people showed up.

  Refusing to be discouraged, she went on the local radio station for a call-in show and also printed up fliers that she and Nick posted around town. Busy with her practice during the day, she spent the evenings on the phone, calling everyone in the phone book. Then, when she could find the time, she slipped into the woods and set traps for infected squirrels and foxes.

  If she'd wanted something to take her mind off Thomas, she'd found it. For a solid week, she worked from first light to late at night and was so exhausted when she finally fell into bed that she was usually asleep the second her head hit the pillow. Then the next morning, she got up and started the entire process all over again.

  Her family was worried about her working too hard, but Merry didn't see any way that she could slow down—not when she thought about all the unvaccinated dogs and cats out there that could not only become infected with the disease themselves, but spread it to their owners. That was what scared her. Why couldn't people see the seriousness of the situation?

  Frustrated, she didn't know what she would have done if it hadn't been for Nick. He canvassed neighborhoods in town, had his deputies talk to everyone they came into contact with, and even offered to chauffeur people and their animals to and from Merry's office if they needed transportation.
Whenever she needed help, he was there.

  Finally, they gradually began to make headway. A few responsible citizens brought in their dogs and cats. Then, what began as a trickle of response turned into a flood.

  It all happened so fast, Merry didn't have time to anticipate a problem. One moment, she had a handful of patients and their owners in the waiting room waiting to see her, and the next, she had three dozen. And most of the pets didn't like each other at all. Snarling and spitting and ignoring the shouts of their owners, they turned the waiting room into a war zone in a matter of minutes.

  Holding back a particularly feisty poodle who wanted to jump a Great Dane, Merry dragged the stubborn little bit of fluff toward waiting room one. "See if you can track down one of my brothers or Nick," she yelled over her shoulder at Ruby. "We're going to need some help."

  * * *

  The place was a madhouse when Nick walked through the door of Merry's clinic twenty minutes later. The waiting room was packed with what appeared to be half the county's population of animals and their humans, and nobody seemed to be in charge. Every chair was filled and a line was forming outside. At the counter, looking more than a little harried, Ruby was juggling the constantly ringing phones, the cash register, and trying to make herself heard over the deafening uproar of humans and animals.

  Sweeping back the red too-long bangs that continually fell in her face, she took one look at him and sighed in relief. "Thank God! Merry needs help in the examining room with Tinkerbell—Mrs. Holly just dropped her off and will be back in an hour to pick her up—but somebody's got to be here at the counter to take care of the bills and the phone. If you want to handle this—"

  George Murphy's hound chose that moment to inspect the door to Mrs. Johnson's cat's travel box and got his nose swatted for poking it somewhere it didn't belong. A howl rose to the rafters, followed by a chorus of others, and that was all Nick needed to hear to know that he wanted no part of the scene in the waiting room.