SNOWBOUND SUMMER
By
Sally Clements
Snowbound Summer
By Sally Clements
Kindle Edition, Copyright © 2014 Sally Clements
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Editing by Cindy Davis
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Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Newsletter
Copyright
Chapter One
Houses talk.
In the middle of the night—when sounds of the day have silenced, the noises that a house makes can be heard. Floorboards creak and squeak. Pipes bang as though tapped with invisible hands. Windows rattle at a gust of wind.
Summer Costello lay in the bed that had been hers since childhood listening to the familiar sounds. Eight long years ago she’d left home. Tonight was the first night back in her childhood bed. Back in her childhood home. The experience was both familiar and strange. She’d never expected she would be back—especially under these circumstances.
A scratching, scraping sound.
She looked toward the window. A tendril hanging from the Boston vine that clung to the outside of the house whipped against the window. It needed pruning. Tomorrow, she’d get out the ladder and attend to it. That’s if the weather improved; clambering up the ladder in a howling gale was totally out of the question.
At least the kitchen was well stocked. She hadn’t wanted to risk bumping into anyone in the local stores, so had done a large shop in a supermarket outside town on her way from the airport. There seemed no point in buying a turkey and all the trimmings, surely there could be nothing more pathetic than cooking and eating a Christmas dinner alone, so she’d stocked up with Christmas booze, chocolates, good coffee, and everything she’d need to cook simple meals.
Ma would be appalled to discover Summer had spent Christmas here alone. If she told her parents the truth, they would have cancelled their much-anticipated vacation in Spain with her brother. Would have stayed at home or paid for Summer to join them. She’d always been their golden girl—they’d be so disappointed in her if they knew the truth.
A high, keening sound. Summer tilted her head to the side and listened.
Again. She crept out of bed and walked to the window. Pressed her ear against the cold glass and strained to hear the faint sound through the noise of the storm. Again she heard it—a high, frightened yowling. Some poor animal was out there.
Quickly she dressed in warm clothes and pulled on snow boots. She stuck her arms through the parka and padded downstairs.
When she jerked open the front door a frigid gust of air whipped long strands of hair against her face. From inside, she’d thought it was raining, but the ever-growing pile of small ice bullets pushing against the front door proved her wrong. Hail. She sniffed. The scent of snow was in the air.
The Costello family home was a few miles outside town and anytime it snowed the road became quickly impassable. Its aspect, halfway up the mountain leading out of Brookbridge, provided breathtaking views, but the flipside made navigating the narrow roads difficult in the snow unless you had a vehicle made for it.
The Ford Fiesta Summer hired at the airport didn’t qualify.
The noise cut through the tempest again.
“Where are you?” She grabbed a flashlight from the hall table, stepped out and pulled the door closed.
The cold wind bit through her clothing. With jerky movements, she zipped the parka to the top, and pulled the fur-trimmed hood over her head. She played the beam of the flashlight out into the darkness, then back against the shelter of the house’s walls, searching for the animal.
She’d dipped her chin down, but cold beads of hail struck Summer’s face again and again stinging her forehead and cheeks as she circled the house. “Where the hell are you?” she muttered under her breath.
The cry again.
Summer’s head jerked to the right, following the noise, finally homing in on the animal’s location. The door to the woodshed was closed, but upon further examination, her flashlight revealed a hole at the bottom—a hole big enough…
She shot the bolt and stepped inside.
“It’s okay.” Her gaze tracked the beam to the wood stacked neatly at the back of the shed. To the piles of larger rings, yet to be cut, that littered the dirty cobbled floor. She played the light to the left. A pair of glowing eyes reflected in the darkness.
A dog.
Its breed was indeterminate in the darkness, but it was a large breed. Not skinny like a Lurcher, or powerfully built like a Doberman or Rottweiler, the dog was more like a wolf. Perhaps an Alsatian.
It lay on its side, its chest rising and falling rapidly. Its back leg was at an unnatural angle, and the light picked out a glistening black spot at the top of the leg.
“It’s okay.” She crouched to make herself appear less threatening and took a step forward.
The dog bared its teeth, and a deep growl issued from its throat.
*****
It was warm and snug in Nick Logan’s hermetically-sealed apartment. He drained his coffee cup, stacked it in the dishwasher, and groaned at the sight outside the window. As usual, the weather forecasters had got it wrong. They’d foreseen the storm, but hadn’t said anything about snow.
And snow there was. Inches of it.
The creak and snap of the metal letterbox, and then a flurry of mail hit the mat inside the door. Nick walked over and picked it up. Junk mail, junk mail, bill, junk mail, bill, postcard. He tossed all the items except the postcard onto the hall table.
A large black bull. With a grin, Nick flipped the card over.
Are you sure you won’t change your mind? They’re here and driving me crazy!
A scrawled D concluded the note from his best friend, Declan Costello. He’d been vaguely tempted by the offer of flying out to spend Christmas in Declan’s new pad in Andalucía—who wouldn’t be? After working all through the holiday last year, it was his partner in the practice’s turn to be on call this year, so he had a week off—starting tomorrow. But the thought of playing happy families with Declan’s parents for the week had cemented Nick’s decision to defer it.
Two weeks in July. That’s when he’d go. Declan had been in Spain for four months, and his job contract was for a year—there was plenty of time to take Declan up on his offer.
Nick grabbed the Land Rover keys off the table, picked up his coat, and left the house.
Traffic was light in Brookbridge, partly because it was early, but also because of the snow. The roads wer
e covered; the council hadn’t salted them yesterday, so conditions were treacherous. He pulled up outside Brookbridge Veterinary and parked.
The building was in darkness. As usual, he was the first one in. The practice didn’t open for an hour, he’d have time to go through the paperwork and prepare for the day. He and his partner Sean were the principal vets in the practice and they employed another two vets and three veterinary nurses. Evie the receptionist rounded out the team.
Nick put on the coffee machine—they always complained about the strength of his coffee, but drank it anyway—and walked to Evie’s desk to scan the appointment book. Two operations—easy ones, a cat to be spayed and a dog to be neutered. Various smaller procedures.
He rotated the appointment book back into place and straightened.
The phone rang.
He glanced up at the clock. No-one would be expecting the office to be manned at this time in the morning—he should let the answering machine get it—but something made Nick snatch up the receiver. “Brookbridge Veterinary.”
“Oh, thank goodness you answered,” a flustered female voice said. “I really need your help.”
“We’re not actually open for another hour—”
“I understand, but I really need your help. I’ve been out all night with an injured dog—I can’t get him inside, and he’s so cold.”
“What happened?” Nick picked up a pen and ripped a page off Evie’s notebook. “Are we his vet?” Her voice sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
“I don’t know who his vet is. I doubt he even has one. He’s not my dog.” She spoke quickly. “Look, I just didn’t know who to call. I haven’t lived here in years. He must be a stray, or have been dumped. His ribs are sticking out, and he has a frayed rope around his neck—maybe he was tied up and escaped or something. I didn’t want to call the ISPCA… His leg is hurt and he can’t walk…”
“Okay.” Every animal, no matter the circumstances, deserved a chance. Nick made a snap decision. “I’ll come out. What’s your address?”
“It’s sort of complicated.”
He jotted notes as she explained the route out of town, mentally cataloguing all the houses. A lifetime in Brookbridge meant he knew practically everyone and had visited most of the houses in the immediate area for one reason or another.
“So you turn left, drive two miles, and the house is on the left…”
He’d stopped writing a few minutes ago. Had sat in Evie’s chair and marveled at the fact that he’d somehow not recognized her voice instantly.
“Hello, Summer.”
*****
Summer blinked. “Who is this?”
The man on the other end of the phone cleared his throat. “Ah, this is Nick Logan. Declan’s friend.”
Nick Logan. She closed her eyes tight. Of course. Declan had said something about Nick training to become a vet, but she’d forgotten. She’d presumed he would have left the small Irish town when he qualified, that he would have struck out for a new town, or another country—not only would there be more opportunities for a vet in other places, but somewhere else would also be more exciting, more interesting. Before she’d even left school, she was planning to study overseas and exploit all the opportunities the big, wide world had to offer.
A brief memory of her younger brother’s best friend flashed into her mind’s eye. Nick Logan, seventeen, dressed in board shorts and lounging around in this very house’s back garden, one hot, long ago summer. At twenty, he’d been here at this very house at her sendoff party.
“Nick. Wow, I haven’t seen you in years.”
“Three,” he said quickly. “Declan and I came over to London for the opening of Summer’s Kitchen.”
Her pride and joy. The culmination of all her dreams. That night, her future stretched ahead full of wonderful possibilities. Michael had asked to move in with her that night, and with her friends and family around her it had been the best evening of her life.
She’d forgotten that Nick had also attended.
“Time flies.” Dreams die. “So you’re the vet now.” She mentally face palmed at the obviousness of her words. Duh, yes…but she just kept talking, making it worse. “I mean, obviously you’re the vet, um…”
She rubbed the back of her neck. She’d been determined not to meet anyone she knew in Brookbridge. Not to even confess that she’d spent Christmas in her parents’ home alone until she felt strong enough to fasten the mask she always wore back in place. Nick must be wondering about her being in Ireland—he must know her parents were in Spain—she should say something.
He beat her to it. “I want you to explain this dog’s injuries to me in as much detail as you can.” His voice was impersonal and matter-of-fact. “Your road is always terrible in the snow, but I have a Land Rover, so I’ll make it. I want to be ready for anything.”
He’d cut through her waffle like a chef with a Sabatier.
Summer took a deep breath, and gathered her thoughts. “I think his back leg is broken, I can’t get close enough to check, but it’s at an odd angle, and there’s a big cut with blood at the top of his leg. He’s pretty wild. When I approached him last night he bared his teeth and growled at me. He’s obviously frightened. I gave him a steak and he devoured it. After that, he stopped growling, but he wouldn’t let me nearer. You should bring a tranquillizer.” The dog was obviously frightened and traumatized. It was more than likely that the only option would be to put him down—an aggressive dog didn’t have many options.
Any of the farms nearby would have shot the dog on sight.
“He may be beyond saving,” she said. “But I can’t just leave him out there. I have to give him a chance. Um…” Summer hesitated for a moment, then decided she had no option but to make the request. “I hate to ask, but could you bring some dog food with you?”
“Of course,” Nick said. “Do you want me to bring you anything else? This weather is setting in—firelighters, milk, bread?”
She’d loaded up with most things but… “Firelighters and matches would be good. And I guess extra bread could be useful. I’m fairly well stocked, apart from those.”
“Okay. I need to brief my colleagues here, so it’ll be an hour or so before I make it out there.” Brief, to the point, and efficient.
“That sounds great. Thanks, Nick.”
She hung up. It had been one hell of a night. The dog had been unable to make it across the floor to where she crouched, but she had no doubt if he could, he would have attacked her. Maybe she was crazy even trying to save this dog.
Chapter Two
Summer Costello.
Nick leaned back in Evie’s leather swivel chair and closed his eyes. He hadn’t seen her for three years but the mental image that popped into his mind was vivid. Average height, around five foot six, but that was the only thing average about her. She’d won every prize there was at school, and as well as excelling academically she had been captain of the hockey team and head girl. She’d been popular and confident, girls wanted to be her, and boys wanted to be her boyfriend.
The last time he’d really had a chance to speak to her was before she left to go to London. At twenty-two, Summer had worn her auburn-verging-on-red hair long, framing her face in unruly waves. Her eyes were a vivid shade of blue he’d never seen on anyone else—her brother’s were brown. Crushing on Summer’s friends had been a popular pastime of his and Declan’s, but Summer was always out of bounds. And for her part, Summer had never reciprocated his interest.
In fact, the very opposite.
Three years ago, the crazy dream of one day being with her had died forever.
Nick stood up and walked into the surgery to pack supplies he would need to treat the dog. Ideally, after sedation he would bring it back to the practice for surgery, but there was always the possibility that would prove impossible so he also packed the chemicals needed to put the dog to sleep.
A tinkling sound alerted him to the fact that someone had entered t
he building. In the reception area, Evie was hanging up her coat. Her hair was covered in a fine dusting of snow. She pulled a pair of slippers out of her voluminous handbag and toed off her boots, leaving them under the coat stand. “Good morning.” She gave him a big grin. “Hell of a day out there, huh?” She brushed the snowflakes from her hair, slipped her feet into the slippers and rounded the desk to flick on her computer.
“Sure is. I guess by the look of you it’s snowing again.” He opened the door and stared across the car park. His Land Rover had turned white since he’d arrived three quarters of an hour ago.
“They’re saying on the radio that it’s going to get worse,” she said. “They were giving that don’t-travel-unless-you-have-to warning.”
It was the worst possible time to drive into the mountains.
The bell above the door tinkled again and both the other vets dashed in.
“I had a call this morning,” Nick explained as they shed their coats. “A woman has found an injured dog. I have to drive out there.”
“Where?” asked Alison Cavanagh, one of the vets.
Everyone knew Summer and Declan’s parents, and that they had left for Spain a week ago. If Declan had known Summer was in the house he would have told Nick, so he had to presume she was there without anyone’s knowledge. He hadn’t asked if she was alone—hadn’t needed to, at Christmas everyone wanted to be with family, so her boyfriend must be there.
Still, something kept him from revealing her presence in Brookbridge. “The Land Rover is probably the only vehicle that will make it up the mountain in these conditions.”
Alison frowned. “The weather is getting worse, driving into the mountains…” She shook her head. “You shouldn’t even try it.”
“I have to. There’s an animal in pain, I can’t just leave it to die. You know me, Ali, I’ll be careful. I have my phone and a blanket in my car. The Land Rover can handle any conditions, I’ll be fine.”
“Well, keep in contact,” Alison said. “Check in the moment you arrive. If this weather gets worse you could be marooned.”
Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3) Page 1
