Sunset Bay Sanctuary

by Roxanne Snopek

  “Do you have trouble sleeping?” asked Gayle, watching him.

  He shrugged. “Occupational hazard. I learned to catch catnaps. I do all right.”

  “Interesting answer,” she said. “Nightmares?”

  He stared back at her. “Some.”

  “Anger? Paranoia?”

  “Right now? Both.”

  Aiden pushed back his chair and went to the window. His hands were shaking and he couldn’t catch his breath.

  Who was she to lecture him? She’d never been in the triage bay for a multi-vehicle MVA. Or worked in vain on the young victims of school shootings, flown in to his table because the local hospitals were overwhelmed.

  “If you don’t think I’m functioning to capacity,” he said, “then tell the board to fire me.”

  He forced his jaws shut. If she took him up on it, Aiden would be lucky to get a job in a walk-in clinic, prescribing antibiotics for ear infections.

  His shirt was damp. The nape of his neck felt prickly. The tie felt like a noose, now. Ms. Chen’s calm, impenetrable demeanor made him want to break something, to see if he could elicit a reaction from her. For several long moments, his words hung in the air.

  Then she blinked. “I have no desire to cause you further pain, Dr. McCall. However, PTSD can be exacerbated if you’ve unexpectedly lost a loved one or have had other recent, stressful life changes. I believe your ex-wife recently remarried, is that right?”

  He wasn’t talking about Garret and he wasn’t talking about Michelle. He walked back to the desk, braced his hands on the back of the chair, and leaned over. If Gayle Chen was intimidated, she didn’t show it.

  “If you have a problem with my performance, Ms. Chen,” he said, “I’ll talk about that with you. But let me be very clear. My personal life is none of your business. Is that understood?”

  She stared back, unruffled. “When the personal interferes with the professional, it becomes my business. You know this.”

  He did. He was overreacting, he knew it. Fatigue washed over him again. Why couldn’t this just be over? “I apologize, Gayle. I know it’s your job to check up on me. I’m not making the best case for myself right now.”

  She gave him a half-smile. “You’re not the worst, either. I want to help you, Aiden.”

  “I appreciate that. I want you to know that I’m happy for my ex-wife. I wish her all the best in her new life. Believe me, her marriage is no trigger for me.” He paused. “If anything, it’s a relief.”

  He felt Gayle’s steady gaze on his face. He hadn’t meant to say that last bit and wasn’t sure why he had, except that it was the truth. All he and Michelle were to each other was a reminder of the worst pain they’d ever experienced. Now maybe he’d be able to shed at least a small portion of the guilt that burdened him. Michelle had moved on. His pain could no longer hurt her.

  “I had one PTSD client, a marine, who’d done all the counseling, had been in support groups, tried drugs but nothing really helped. It got so he didn’t leave his house. He saw danger and risk everywhere. He was afraid and angry all the time.”

  Aiden didn’t want to burst her bubble but danger and risk were everywhere. Your life could change in an instant and there was nothing you could do to keep that from happening. Life was like that. How was a person supposed to relax with that knowledge?

  “As a last resort, he got a therapy dog. It was very successful, especially in breaking the nightmare cycle and helping him sleep. Have you considered that?”

  Aiden was intrigued. He hated the constant state of exhaustion the nightmares left him in.

  But he wasn’t sure he wanted them gone.

  Garret was in those dreams.

  Gayle handed him a card. “I know someone who trains dogs. Talk to her.”

  “Companions with Purpose.” Aiden turned the card over, and saw a photo of a smiling woman with masses of curly blond hair, surrounded by dogs. “I’ve met her.”

  “You know Haylee? That’s wonderful.”

  He remembered how she’d looked at him in the dark with knowing eyes, her firm grip when she’d pulled him away from the rising seawater. Her sympathetic tone in the hospital hallway.

  “She works out of Sanctuary Ranch,” continued Gayle. “It’s a . . . special place. And full disclosure, my partner, Olivia Hansen, owns the ranch with Haylee.”

  Typical small town. If you cried nepotism, you’d shut the place down because everyone was connected to everyone else in some way.

  “Olivia’s also a registered foster parent and that’s where Sage Welles and her baby are going when they’ve been discharged. You’re already scheduled to do a home visit. Talk to Haylee while you’re there. Meet her dogs. You never know.”

  “Thank you for the suggestion, Ms. Chen, I’ll consider it.” He got to his feet. “Now, I’ve got a meeting. I heard rumors of cake. I’ll have someone bring some up to your office. You eat cake, don’t you? Never mind. Everyone eats cake.”

  Gayle stood up also and looked him full in the face. “This is a suggestion, Dr. McCall, not a requirement. Consider it.”

  Her sensible shoes clicked softly on the polished floor.

  He put his fingers to his forehead as she left, then leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling.

  He hadn’t been looking forward to doing the home visit. But now, suddenly, he was.

  Chapter Seven

  “Be sure to use the binoculars on the balcony just before sunset to spot black bears and eagles in the valley. You never know what you’ll find!”

  —WildCityBoy

  Sage sat on the edge of the hospital bed, listening to the pounding of her own heart, wondering if it was possible that it might explode in her chest.

  She felt so heavy there. They were going to discharge her today, to the ranch, and though it’s what she’d wanted, it’s the reason she’d come out here, after all, she was rigid with dread.

  Haylee had only visited the once. Olivia had returned, to make arrangements. And she’d brought the cook. Daphne—another plant name, like hers. Sage liked that.

  But not Haylee.

  Sage hadn’t expected a fairy-tale reunion. But she hadn’t expected to be ignored, either. Would Haylee ignore her at the ranch, too? Pretend she was just another foster kid of Olivia’s?

  The baby started fussing again and tears thickened Sage’s throat. She was so tired and her boobs ached. The baby cried so much. What if there was something wrong with her milk? A happy baby wouldn’t cry so much, right?

  Or maybe the problem lay with her anatomy. Her boobs didn’t feel like boobs anymore. They felt like . . . rocks. Big, hot rocks, weighing her down. And it hurt so freaking badly when the baby bit on her nipples. Was it supposed to be that way? It was amazing the human race had survived, if that was the case.

  Sage had told herself that maternal instinct would take over and make all this stuff come naturally. Animals did it. How hard could it be, right?

  Hard.

  Like the boulders on her chest. The baby squirmed and made little mewling sounds. Sage’s stomach jumped. Any second, she’d be wailing her head off again. Her chest got hot and tight.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  The baby was hungry again, no doubt. But she couldn’t bear the thought of asking for help again, proving how badly she was screwing this up already.

  Sage had read everything she could find, going to the library in secret, feeling bad that it had taken her so long to figure out that she was pregnant. Feeling worse that after that long, she could only guess at when and with whom the baby was conceived.

  She’d even tried to watch a video about how to deliver your own baby, though that had almost made her throw up.

  She wasn’t going to depend on anyone, ever again. There was no baby daddy to mess with her anymore. Her own mom and dad were busy raising their “real” families, and money was the best thing she could hope for from them.

  No. She’d live her life on her own terms, independently. Neve
r relying on someone who would just let her down in the end. And she’d teach her baby the same thing. It would be the two of them against the world.

  She just had to get on her feet first. That’s all. Haylee owed her that much, didn’t she?

  The baby squirmed more and Sage lifted her up and began pacing the room. She repositioned the blanket. Maybe she was too hot now. No, she was shoving and burrowing her face against Sage’s shoulder.

  Maybe coming here had been a mistake. Olivia Hansen seemed like a decent person, if clumsy and awkward with the baby. She was used to street kids, and she was good with animals. Animals could tell stuff about people, right?

  And Daphne, well, she’d been practically drooling over Sal. She was a grandma. A real grandma.

  It would be nice to have a grandma.

  It would be nice to have anyone.

  Don’t think like that!

  That way lay disappointment and despair.

  The baby gave up rooting and started shrieking, a high, thin cry that made the hair on the back of Sage’s neck stand up.

  “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. We’re going to be okay.”

  How though, she had no idea.

  Sage had no one. She’d found her way to Sanctuary Ranch because she was curious, that was all. Most adopted kids were curious.

  Only in a tiny corner of her heart, it seemed she’d held out some faint hope that Haylee Hansen would feel something for her.

  Anything.

  Maybe it was better this way. If nothing else, maybe Sage could guilt some money out of them and use it to start her life over.

  She’d figure out how to be a good mother. She’d do everything right for her little girl.

  A knock on the door made Sage jump. The baby paused for breath, as Ellen poked her head in.

  “You need to feed her properly before we can discharge you.”

  “I tried,” lied Sage. Her arms were shaking and she was sweating all down her front. Or maybe it was the baby’s tears. Or maybe her own tears.

  It took a half second for Ellen to size up the situation and before Sage knew it, she was sitting on the chair beside the window with a cup of sweet tea in front of her and cushions at her elbow.

  “Lift up your shirt,” commanded Ellen.

  “I’m all sweaty.” Sage could barely drum up enough energy for that much response. She was damp and sticky, she stunk of failure, her baby was going to scream them all to death, and her stitches were still giving her grief.

  “Your milk is leaking all over your shirt and it’s driving little Miss Sal mad. Lift it up so we can get her positioned properly.”

  Sage looked down with astonishment. That was milk? Not sweat?

  Ellen sighed. “Your milk’s come in with a vengeance. Lucky you.”

  Before Sage could protest, the nurse had the baby in her arms, and had rolled up Sage’s T-shirt, baring one side of her chest. It didn’t even look like a boob.

  “I think something’s wrong,” she ventured.

  Ellen put a large pillow into Sage’s lap, then placed the baby on top of it, her belly facing Sage’s belly, her mouth level with Sage’s grotesque nipple.

  Instantly Sal stopped crying and began shaking her head from side to side, huffing and mewling like a kitten.

  “That’s called rooting. She’s looking for food.”

  “I know. It’s right there. Why can’t she get it?”

  “She needed a little adjustment, that’s all. You can’t have her craning her neck. It’s hard to swallow when your neck is turned sideways.”

  Sage shifted closer. “Oh. Oh!”

  The baby grasped the nipple with her mouth and clamped down, hard.

  “Ow! Damn it, that hurts!”

  She gritted her teeth, and froze in place. She’d given birth to a piranha. Any movement and the kid would rip that nip right off.

  To Sage’s shock, Ellen inserted her pinky finger into Sal’s mouth, broke the seal, and pulled her away.

  Instant relief. “Oh, thank God.”

  “This time, wait until her mouth is wide open, then pull her onto your breast.”

  Sal snorted like a pig hunting truffles. Sage could see little beads of sweat on her tiny brow. Poor thing. Such hard work, for both of them.

  But she did as the nurse instructed. More pain. Again the woman pulled the baby away. Now the kid was screaming, Sage was crying and sweating, and the air stunk of BO mixed with sour milk.

  “Again,” Ellen said calmly as if this wasn’t awkward to the nth degree.

  This time, to Sage’s shock, when the baby grabbed on, it didn’t hurt. She latched on and then the weirdest sensation began, heat and . . . electricity, zinging through her chest. As if the baby had graduated from the umbilical cord and could now be recharged by plugging in at the boob.

  And not just the baby.

  Her jaw began moving rhythmically. Sage could hear her swallowing.

  She lifted her eyes. “It’s working,” she whispered, terrified that she might accidentally break the spell.

  Ellen nodded. “How does it feel?”

  “It doesn’t hurt.”

  In fact, it felt . . . awesome. Her throbbing breast felt as if it was actively pumping milk out, straight into the baby’s mouth, as if it had been waiting for this exact moment.

  She felt something drip onto the waistband of her baggy pants. Her T-shirt was soaked and getting wetter by the minute.

  “You’re leaking on the other side,” Ellen said. She handed Sage a cloth. “Put that over it to soak it up.”

  “Shouldn’t we save it or something? She’s going to need it, won’t she?”

  Ellen smiled grimly. “Don’t worry. As long as you keep feeding her, your body will make as much as she needs. It’s a supply-and-demand situation. It’ll take a few weeks before everything gets into sync, though.”

  “A few weeks.” Sage wanted to cry.

  “You’ll be a pro by then,” Ellen promised. “Everything will be much better once you’re in familiar surroundings again.”

  “What familiar surroundings?” she muttered. She kept the tears at bay until Ellen left the room. She couldn’t imagine things getting better.

  Then again, they could hardly get worse, could they?

  * * *

  Haylee found Olivia next to the horse barn, tossing alfalfa bales from the bed of her truck onto a pile next to the barn door. Her aunt straightened up when she saw Haylee, as if preparing herself.

  “You’re letting her stay with us? With the baby? Are you insane?”

  Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Good morning to you, too.” She jumped down and brushed her hands off on her jeans.

  “Olivia.” Haylee’s chin shook. She lifted her hands, then let them flop to her sides. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Olivia watched her carefully and then her expression changed. “Tyler, Duke,” she yelled. “Get the rest of this hay under cover.”

  The boys came racing around the corner.

  “You bet, Honch,” said Tyler.

  “I’ll be in the front paddock checking on Dancer. Haylee’s with me, if anyone asks.”

  She strode away, puffs of dust rising with every booted step. She stopped at the gate, opened it, and then stood there, looking at Haylee.

  “I’m not turning her away, kiddo. Forget it.”

  Her face was set.

  The bay mare nickered in greeting, her ears pricked, her eyes on the handful of pellets Olivia carried.

  Liv reached out to the horse, as if purposely ignoring Haylee.

  “Dancer, how you doing, girl?”

  The horse ambled toward them, her barrel-wide belly tipping from side to side with every step. Olivia ran her hand over the mare’s head and neck, then peeked under her belly.

  “She’s bagging up. Foal should be here any day now.”

  “How can we possibly care for her?” said Haylee.

  “For a baby?”

  “You need to calm down,” said Olivia in an easy
voice. “I don’t want you upsetting Dancer.”

  She dragged her hand along the horse’s neck again, long, steady strokes that made Haylee want to scream.

  She bit back the words begging to pour out. Olivia was right. She needed to stay calm. But she couldn’t keep everything inside anymore.

  “I think,” she responded in a similar tone, “that having a mistake I made as a kid show up on my doorstep, without any warning, and with some serious baggage of her own, is reasonable cause for anxiety.”

  Her aunt’s movements stilled. Dancer whiffled her lips and shook her mane.

  “Never,” Olivia said with a voice like ice, “call her that again. Sage is not an accident. Got that?”

  Haylee felt a dull heat flood her cheeks. Liv had always treated her with love, tough love at times, but there’d never been any doubt that she’d go to the mat for her niece if necessary. Apparently that extended to Sage, too.

  Haylee knew the sound of a sword scraping a line in the sand when she heard it.

  Dancer tossed her head and dragged one front hoof against the concrete floor.

  “Easy, girl.” Olivia renewed her caresses. “I’m not mad at you. You’re lovely and perfect and fine. That’s right.”

  She kissed the horse’s jaw and then stepped away, motioning for Haylee to follow her. They walked away from the yard, past the windbreak, up to the north pasture, where white-faced Hereford cattle grazed serenely.

  “I’m not ready to deal with this, Liv.”

  “Life doesn’t wait for us to be ready, hon. Thought you, of all people, would have figured that out by now.” Olivia didn’t bother turning around to look. “You’re too upset to work with the animals properly, too distracted for bookkeeping, Daphne doesn’t want you around the guests because, in her words, you’re a ‘black thundercloud of regret and pissiness.’ Ready or not, it’s time to make peace with this part of your life.”

  Haylee knew Olivia was right. She was right an awful damn lot. It was the sort of character trait that might get her killed one day.

  Olivia walked to the fence line at the ridge and climbed through the barbed wire. “Have you even talked to Sage yet?”