by Cate Masters
“Right.” With a curt nod, he stepped back, then whirled away.
“Bye.” Sarcasm hung heavy in her soft tone. What did she expect? If he comforted her again, it would multiply the error. And her heartache.
The door opened again, and Terry approached. “How’s it going?”
“The same. I better get out of your way.” Smiling her thanks, she followed the assistant back to the waiting room. She swore his stare followed her outside. Gravel spun beneath her tires when she pulled onto Yellow Breeches Road.
* * * *
“Doctor? Where are you going?” a woman behind him asked.
“What?” Eric strode from the back with no aim except to get away. As much as he wanted to stand beside Joss, seeing her gave a jolt to his system. Somehow his discomfort eased the closer he drew to her. Her presence acted as a salve to the acid building in his veins.
Unlike last night, Joss brushed him off today. No warmth in her soft voice. Had he expected her to take him in her arms again? If her fleeting glances gave any indication, she wanted him nowhere near.
As soon as he’d left her, the searing pain came back with renewed force.
Terry held out a folder. “Room Five. This way.” She jerked her head back.
He considered making an excuse for his preoccupation, then abandoned it. Either explanation would sound like bad fiction. “Thanks.”
Following the assistant in the opposite direction, he tensed in passing the entry again, muscles aching to press her against his chest, run his fingers through her silken hair. He’d learned to read Karen’s caution signs. Joss’s definitely said stay away.
She’s upset about the dog. Give her space.
Clinging to her to ease his own discomfort would be too selfish. He couldn’t drag her into whatever mess he’d created for himself.
Entering the room, he set the file on the counter. “How’s Jackson today?”
The Yorkie growled.
Tsking, Mrs. Ballard shushed the dog. “You’re not being polite, Jackson. What’s gotten into you?”
Sighing, Eric steeled himself for the long day ahead. He’d love an answer to the same question—what had gotten into him?
* * * *
Annie’s humming drew Joss into the kitchen. Turning, she switched off the running tap water. “How is he? When can he come home?”
Recounting the brief tale, Joss shared the awkwardness between her and Eric. “It was so strange. Kind of gave me the willies.” She wouldn’t say the real reason.
Her friend gave a smirk. “Or something else.”
“Oh please.” Then what’s the tingle in my nerve endings? Like she’d tapped into some unseen energy force, her blood stream conducting it throughout her body.
“You should invite him to dinner. To thank him.”
“That’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.” Though Joss imagined it vividly.
“You know you want to.”
“To eat together and say nothing more than ‘would you like more’ or ‘how about dessert’ or ‘oh, look how late it is.’” Joss gave a short laugh. “No thank you.” Not until Gram came up with a solution.
“So, you’ll loosen him up.”
Joss shook her head. “Too much work.” Unfortunately, beyond her expertise.
“Men appreciate a good meal. I bet he hasn’t eaten a home cooked dinner since Thanksgiving.”
“Let his mother cook for him. She must be used to his stony silence.”
“You could discuss your mutual love of animals.”
“No, Annie. Not happening.” Frustration seeped through her tone.
“Honey, you need to have a life. Even if you don’t want to date Doc Hendricks, use him for practice.”
The notion knocked the breath out of her. Oh, you have no idea. “I have a life, thank you.” Cutting off her friend’s argument, she hastily added, “And who said I want to date? I’m not ready. And honestly, I don’t know if I ever want to marry again.” Glancing pointedly at Annie, she needed say no more.
More timidly, Annie ventured, “So don’t marry him. Just spend some time with him. Ask him to dinner. You know, as a fellow animal lover.”
Or just a lover. “A practice date, huh?” She smiled despite herself.
“And to repay him.”
“I’m sure I’ll be paying him plenty.” How much? Money wasn’t a consideration when she opted for surgery. Putting Taz down wasn’t an option. He deserved a fighting chance. She ignored the small voice that said Eric did too. She’d help him as soon as she knew how.
Annie screwed up her face.
Time to focus on other things. “So, how many for dinner tonight?”
“Counting you?” Annie winced.
Joss’s hopes fell. “Please don’t say one.”
Tentatively, Annie smiled. “Three.”
Joss groaned. But business had grown steady as word spread about the inn’s delicious offerings. Had to expect an off day, now and then. “Some extra money would come in handy for those vet bills.”
Perkily, Annie said, “We haven’t established our name yet.”
“We need to. Tomorrow’s July first, and we haven’t even planned for Independence Day.” She could barely remember what month it was, let alone the day.
Annie waved. “We can pull off a July fourth event easily. Afterward, let’s make one up—Beach Day? Hey, I bet Doc Hendricks looks great in a Speedo.”
He looks great in much less. Coyly, Joss said, “If he wants to come, he’ll come.” Getting him to loosen up was a horse of a different color.
* * * *
How many years since Eric attempted any conversation with a woman? For pleasure? Too many—that much was painfully obvious. He drew a blank when faced with Joss, despite dreaming of her all night. Those dreams provided sanctuary from the nightmares, if temporarily.
The veterinary assistant sidestepped him since their conversation. He purposely kept his distance and any remarks more curt than usual.
Arriving at Mr. Olson’s farm, Eric grabbed his bag and strode to the barn where the farmer waited. For once, Eric welcomed the man’s supervision of the vet call. The old mare shuffled her feet in the aisle, flinching at his every touch.
“Steady girl.” Olson drew down the lead rope to lower the horse’s head. “Must be something in the air. The animals are skittish lately.”
“Seems to be going around.” Wherever he was, at least. Their flight instincts kicked into high gear when they smelled something wrong. Only the horses at Lavender Hill Inn acted somewhat normal.
Alarm filled the farmer’s face. “Some kind of virus?”
To quell the man’s fears, and any gossip, he forced a chuckle. “No, nothing like that. Probably just restless because of too much pent-up energy.”
Olson’s only reply was a grunt.
Eric administered the shot quickly and bent to his bag. The man led the horse out to the pasture, then stood at the fence watching.
Joining him, frustration coiled inside Eric. Every facet of his life seemed to be off track. “How do you handle being alone?” he blurted. Embarrassed, he added, “Sorry.” He had no right to pry. Ten years Eric’s senior, Olson lost his wife a year before Karen died. Occasionally, the man showed up at social events in the company of a woman.
“Probably about as good as you.” Olson chuckled. “Not very good.”
“You’ve dated, at least. I can’t even approach a woman.”
“The first step is to put yourself out there.”
He grinned. “If there were only someone worth putting myself out there for.”
Olson cast a sideways glance. “If I were younger, I might ask Mrs. Gibson.”
Eric stiffened. He never considered other men wanted her. Of course they would.
The farmer continued. “Maybe you should. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Like you’re plenty interested.”
“No, I couldn’t. I have no time
, my days are full with the practice.”
Olson grunted again.
“I don’t even know what to say to a woman. It used to be so easy with Karen.” He’d been foolish to think Joss would find him interesting. Someone so vivacious and lovely would be bored with his predictability.
“Someone will come along and it’ll come to you naturally.”
“Maybe.” He hadn’t fooled the farmer one bit. Nor himself. The more he’d repressed thoughts of Joss, he found he didn’t want to, but now the risk appeared greater than a bruised heart. He couldn’t expose her to such danger, even if he had no clue what it was.
Chapter 12
The day dawned gray, the sky low and heavy. As Joss walked the edge of the property, Taz’s absence registered keenly. Their morning ritual, she joked to Annie, was to patrol the perimeter. Without him, she was too vulnerable. Taz always walked the boundary exactly, guided by some internal compass. A mystery of the border collie breed. Or maybe the dog followed the flow of energy beneath his padded paws.
Standing at the farthest corner, she imagined the field beyond the house in autumn. The lush purple blooms swaying in the breeze would die down, and her master plan would be in limbo until the next growing season. Would people still come to the inn with no lavender in bloom? No soothing scent in the air? No lemonade? Guests left happy enough, but a passersby came few and far between.
“Have faith,” her grandmother’s voice whispered through the lavender.
“I know. And by helping others, we help ourselves.” Joss hadn’t forgotten. I’m just slow to action and I’ve wasted too many years. She was more than ready to help Eric, if she only knew how.
Today, she’d go in to town and collect any business cards or pamphlets from other shops to distribute to the inn’s customers. Once people knew how beautiful Boiling Springs was, they’d have more reason to return.
First, she needed to see Taz. And make sure Eric was still okay.
Arlene, the receptionist, greeted her on the way in.
“How’s your father?” Last time Joss saw him, his pale complexion and dark-circled eyes left her worried.
“Chemo wears him down, but he’s a trooper.”
Joss’s heart went out to her. “His positive attitude will see him through. And you, too.”
The woman’s smile beamed gratitude. “Give Taz a kiss for me.”
“I will.” Joss headed down the hall to the kennels. Seeing Taz lying motionless except for the steady rise and fall of his belly tugged at her heart. Reaching her fingers through the cage, she said, “Hey buddy.”
Two people entered, and she snuck a glance, though she already knew by his strong presence who it was. Eric and Terry halted, discussing a patient, and he handed her a folder. Joss looked away when he turned toward her.
The assistant called, “Hi, Mrs. Gibson.”
“Hello Terry,” she called after the departing girl. Eric’s approach seemed hesitant until she said, “Hey.”
His shoulders stiffened as he approached. “Hey.”
“How’s my baby?”
Something like hope shone in his eyes as he stepped beside her, less frazzled than before. He appeared stronger, even though the ember-like glow beneath his shirt remained.
“How’s Taz?” she clarified.
“Steadily improving.” More softly, he asked, “How are you?”
The question surprised her. “I’m fine. I miss him. The house is so quiet.” The echoing silence threatened to engulf her sometimes.
At the click of the door, they both tensed. Terry rummaged through a drawer.
Eric eased away. “He’ll be home soon.”
The thought both relieved and frightened her. “I better go.”
“Already?” he blurted.
Another surprise question. “Yes, we’re planning a Fourth of July event. I know you’re busy but—”
“I’ll be there.” His blue eyes held the depth of the sea.
“Good.” His promise both relieved and frightened her.
* * * *
According to the schedule, the horse at Lavender Hill Inn was due for a visit. Just thinking of going there intensified the searing pain in his chest. It took most of his energy not to drive to the diner. Sheree waited for him. Her image beckoned him every night, her sultry laughter filled his ears. It sapped his energy and focus to fight it. With the last of his reserves, he’d resist.
If he let whatever infected him take over his life, he’d be lost forever. He must hold on with his last shred of strength. Going through his usual routine was the only way to get through each day.
Blanking his mind, he packed his bag and drove. A whisper drifted through his mind, “Come to me, now.”
He gripped the steering wheel to prevent turning toward town. With a flick of his hand, he turned up the radio volume and sang along in a loud falsetto: “Hot blooded.” A laugh bubbled up. How apropos. His blood heated at the mere thought of Joss.
The whispers grew to a buzz, fading as he steered into the inn driveway. The scent of lavender acted like a balm on his inner wounds. The sight of Joss gathering flowers in the field arrested him until she straightened and glanced over. Discomfort drained away and unlocked his muscles. He didn’t need to strain to reach for his bag and walk to the barn. The force that sought to control him had less effect on him here.
Whatever it was about this place, he wished he didn’t have to leave. Each night, darkness closed tighter around him. One of these nights, it might swallow him whole.
* * * *
Bringing the cut blossom to her nose, Joss inhaled. Eric disrupted her on so many levels, not even lavender could calm her. His presence sparked a buzz in the atmosphere, alive with his interior struggle, and with her physical reaction to him. Desire percolated up every time he was near.
After gathering the ripe blooms, she hurried to the house. Opening the door, she paused to glance back, and her breath caught again when she met his steely gaze. Her nerves prickled like fire ants crawled across them. With a huff, she stomped her foot on the step to deaden the sensation.
The ringing phone gave her an excuse to run inside. She grabbed the extension in the kitchen.
“Jocelyn,” said her grandmother’s stern voice.
“Gram. What did you find out?” She stopped herself from adding, about The Mark. Annie wasn’t in sight, but might be within earshot.
“Trouble’s brewing. It concerns your Doctor Hendricks.”
Why did everyone keep saying such things? “He’s not my Doctor Hendricks.”
“He’s in danger, Jocelyn. You must warn him. Tell him to keep his distance from the waitress at the diner. Sheree.”
“Is she planning to marry him?” Intended as a joke, the words backfired, and left a sour taste in her mouth.
“Have you seen him recently?” Gram sounded more serious.
“Yes, he’s here now.”
“Does he still bear The Mark?”
Glancing out the door, Joss watched him carry his bag into the barn. “Yes.”
Gram exhaled, audibly upset. “Then we must move quickly.”
Apprehensive, she gripped the phone. “To do what?”
“To save him.”
* * * *
Eric moved through the stable on autopilot, not actually having an excuse to be at the inn except he needed the relief. Since he’d awoken—if he’d slept at all—he mulled over possible excuses in his head to avoid the date Sheree had demanded. It no longer mattered whether the strange vision of her held any significance in the real world. Whether she was merely a lonely waitress, or a woman possessed.
The dream disturbed him. Deeply. He’d never be able to relax around Sheree. Be in her company without keeping close guard, watching for signs she’d morph into whatever thing she’d become in his frequent hallucinations.
Inside the barn, the horse backed away with wide eyes, but he was able to coax the mare to cooperate. May
be the lavender soothed them. Or maybe Joss’s presence. Pulling out an oat treat, he approached Maya’s stall. The mare shook her mane, and nickered to the horses outside through the barred window. When he slid open the door, she whirled in a one-eighty, her rump passing dangerously close.
“I know,” he said softly. “You’re tired of being inside.”
Holding out the treat, he waited for her rubbery lips to scrape along his palm, then rubbed her forelock. Surprise pricked him at seeing Joss outside the stall.
“Hi.” He turned too quickly, and the horse tossed her head with a whinny.
“How’s she doing?”
“Fine. Restless from being pent up.”
“Good.” Joss seemed to study him. “And you?”
Yeah, I’m restless too, he wanted to say. He almost laughed.
She apparently picked up on his odd behavior. Tensing, her gaze cooled. She backed away as he opened the stall door and slipped into the aisle. The horse whirled again, lowering its head and charging forth.
He slid the door shut before it pinched the horse’s nose. “She’s wound up.”
Joss stroked the mare’s head. “All the horses are lately.”
“They are?” Pretending to be clueless sent a prick of guilt through him.
“They seemed very content early this season, and went through practices smoothly. Then all of a sudden, they became skittish.”
“Skittish how?” he asked.
“Throwing their heads, shuffling in the aisle when the girls groom or saddle them. Especially around Tom, for some reason.”
Tom would make anyone skittish. Eric held his tongue. “Maybe he changed their feed to a higher protein base. I’ll talk to him.”
“Good. I’ve been afraid someone might get hurt. Triple Power threw Abbey the other day.”
“Threw her?”
“Yes, he bucked her right off. Luckily she landed free and clear.”
Could be a simple explanation. “Maybe something spooked him.”
“Or someone.”
He didn’t have time to ponder her meaning. If he didn’t get out of here right now, he knew exactly what would happen. He’d take her in his arms and kiss her. He could guess what would happen next.
Excusing himself, he grabbed his bag and strode to the truck.
