by VK Powell
“It’s okay, MJ.” The first part of Mary Jane’s story registered. “Wait. You said Karla left with a redhead?”
Mary Jane nodded again. “I was afraid that woman would be trouble.”
“She needed a place to live until she got back on her feet.” Grace had quickly succumbed to Karla’s sporty body and the time and attention Karla lavished on her, but neither of them spoke of the future, fully aware their connection was temporary.
“You’re just too nice.”
“So you’ve said.” Grace thought the same thing as she considered this recent development, but she’d chosen to get involved with Karla for a short-term distraction.
“But once your hormones kicked in…” Mary Jane let the rest of her sentence drop when Grace gave her a hard stare. “Don’t give me the stink eye. You know I’m right. You’ve got a good heart, Gracie, but you can’t spend the rest of your life in dead-end relationships to keep from getting hurt. At some point, you’ve got to open up again.” Mary Jane raised her palms and looked at the sky. “I promised your parents I’d take care of you, but the job might outlive me.”
“Thanks for that, MJ.” Grace hated to cause anybody trouble, especially Mary Jane.
“The truth is welcome in heaven, honey. I’m just afraid your weakness for tomboys with swagger and roaming hands will be your undoing. What you need is a nice woman—”
“—Who wants to live in Podunk with a deputy sheriff who barely makes a living. Right. Thanks for caring, but what I really need is to get into the cottage before that blasted bird destroys what little I have left.” But Mary Jane was right. Grace did want to settle down. She wanted true love or nothing, but the last time she’d tried, a playgirl with no intention of settling anywhere but on a bed for a few hours’ pleasure had broken her heart. Grace kissed Mary Jane on the cheek. “I’ll be over later and give you a hand with the B and B.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m in pretty good shape now.” She jerked her head toward the cottage. “Should I get the broom?”
“That’ll just piss him off more. I’ll yell if I need backup.” Mary Jane started toward the B and B as Grace edged closer to her front door. “This is what I get for trying to help a sister out.” She called to Mary Jane, “If I’m not out in an hour, contact the station and have them send the coroner for my body.” She wedged her foot against the door and inched it open.
“Hi, Grace.”
Harry’s near perfect imitation of Karla’s voice was almost eerie. She edged the door open enough to stick her head inside and get a lay of the land.
“Police. Run. Po-lice.” He screeched from his perch on the back of her recliner. His gray-feathered body tinged with white scalloping and bright red tail looked like someone had started plucking him for dinner. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Harry. Like an ass misses hemorrhoids.” She scanned her living room and kitchen while easing through the door, her back flat against the wall. Shredded paper, gray feathers, powder dust, and bird food confetti littered every horizontal surface of her normally pristine living space. She slowly stepped farther into the room and her shoe squished in something gooey and slick.
“La-la-la.” Harry squawked louder. “La-la-la.”
Grace raised her foot and wretched at the stringy greenish-white poop clinging to her shoe. “Really, Harry.”
“Welcome home, Five-O.”
She considered throwing her utility belt at him but placed it on the side table instead and slipped out of her shoes. Karla had thought teaching Harry a few police terms was endearing, but her attempts at humor had always been at Grace’s expense. “I’m sorry your mother left you, but it’s not my fault. What are the chances we could be friends, at least until I get you caged?” She mimicked Karla’s actions, held out her arm and kissed at him. “Come on. Be a good boy. It’s dinner time.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Come here, and I’ll feed you.”
Harry flapped his wings and launched off the recliner straight toward her head. She ducked just in time, and he looped around the room, more gray feathers floating in his wake.
“Here, Harry.” She patted her arm.
He swooped again and seemed to be considering perching on her outstretched arm but surged up and clawed her head.
“Damn it.”
He flew away with strands of hair clinging to his feet. “Watch your six,” he cried, taking another dive at her.
“Harry, come here. Please.” She kept her tone even and soft though she wanted to yell and throw a blanket over him. Loud voices and chaos only agitated him more. She slipped past him into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Thank God Karla had left a few slices of orange. “Look what I’ve got for you. Your favorite.”
Harry landed on the back of a barstool, bobbed up and down, and cocked his head.
“Yes, it’s for you. Come here.” She patted her arm again, careful to keep the orange slice close in case Harry lunged for it.
He hopped on the bar and cautiously edged nearer.
“That’s right.” She waved the orange toward him and jerked it back.
Harry jumped off the counter, swiped the fruit from her fingers, taking a bit of skin with it, and landed on her arm, sinking his sharp claws into her bare flesh.
“Ouch.” She almost flung her arm in pain but grabbed him first and ran toward the large aviary in the corner. She shoved him inside, picked up the combination lock from the floor, and attached it before he finished his treat and started pecking her fingers. Now she understood why he’d been flying around all day. He’d learned quickly to open the cage door, and she’d insisted on a lock for security, mostly hers. Karla never liked the idea. Why had she left this bird?
“I’m hungry.”
“I know, Harry. I’m making your gourmet meal right now.” She shook some pellets and sunflower seeds into a food tray and sprinkled them with bits of chopped broccoli, carrots, and orange. While Harry’s back was turned, she slipped the tray into his cage and jumped away. “There. Now eat and leave me in peace.”
She looked around her wrecked home. Where to start? She reached for a paper towel to clean up the poop near the door, and blood ran from her forearm down her fingers onto the countertop. She diverted to the bathroom, cleaned, and bandaged her injuries, changed out of her uniform, and returned to her disaster of a living space. The few good times she and Karla had didn’t come close to making up for this mess, much less for leaving Dirty Harry unattended in her home.
She loved her small cottage set back in the trees, mostly for its short distance from the big house and Mary Jane, which afforded her both privacy and a sense of belonging. She grabbed her cleaning equipment and knelt beside a glob of poop, thinking about her parents instead of the revolting task. They had converted the old two-story home into a B and B several years earlier. Their hopes of curtailing their wanderlust with other travelers’ stories failed and they were soon off again. She’d enjoyed her early years seeing the world with them but had taken the job with the sheriff’s department to finally settle down and make her own life.
“Really, Karla?” Grace muttered and sprayed a poop spot with cleaner and wiped it up with a towel-covered hand. “Ugh.” She gagged and turned her head to catch a clean breath.
When was her last relationship that felt emotionally, financially, and intellectually equal? Her best friends—Trip, a former basketball standout turned vet, and Clay, an accomplished artist—always said whoever bagged Grace Booker would be a lucky woman. Even after all Trip’s advice couched in basketball or animal terms and Clay’s attempts to paint a pretty picture of Grace’s future, the possibility seemed a long shot because she just couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting that badly again.
She pushed her own sad prospects aside and returned to the question of what to do about Dirty Harry. She certainly couldn’t keep him though she’d grown fond of some of his antics. They just didn’t get along. Karla said he needed companionship because he was a flock
ing bird, but now he’d be alone. Harry wasn’t to blame for Karla’s abandonment. The kind and humane thing was for Grace to find him another home.
Maybe Trip would take him. He’d be good company in her vet clinic and could entertain the other animals and their owners. Grace wasn’t about to collect any more scars fighting him for alpha status. One of them had to go.
After a cold sandwich dinner, Grace settled in her recliner with a glass of wine. This was her first night as a deputy sergeant without new officer performance reports to write, and she wanted to enjoy doing nothing.
Harry screeched, and she nearly jumped out of her chair. He whistled and did his loudest imitation of a bus horn over and over and over.
“Trying to relax here. Could you hold it down?”
“Five-O. Five-O.”
“Perfect.” He wasn’t usually so noisy at night, but he normally perched on Karla’s shoulder, getting her full attention until they went to bed. She grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and tossed it over his cage. “Bedtime, Harry.”
“Sex tonight?” he screeched as she walked past.
“Shut up.”
Chapter Two
Dani scanned the parking lot of the Beaumont Veterinary Clinic for signs her boss had beaten her to work. The horse trailer was missing from its usual spot, which meant either Trip was already on the road or she hadn’t come back from yesterday’s call. She sometimes slept over, depending on the client. Her new boss was quite the ladies’ woman. She chuckled to herself. Takes one to know one.
Dani wanted to impress her new boss, so every day she worked her plan—be early, become an asset, and tactfully offer suggestions to save time and improve efficiency of the practice. A short-term plan kept her from obsessing about her stalled long-term goals of getting back to the city, finding a permanent job, and buying her first home—a moderate-sized home that would be nothing like the sprawling house on this property.
Trip’s Victorian mansion sat at the end of a long, wide driveway that split off to the right, with the stables to the left. Dani surveyed the sizeable vet office with attached U-shaped stables and oval riding ring on a huge plot of land, a perfect setup for both a large and small animal vet practice. Surrounding the structures as far as she could see were flat acres of plowed fields with standing water between the rows, not a building or person in sight. Crows cawing and pecking the churned ground were the only sounds. How had she ended up in such a wasteland?
Dani slid the business key from her jeans pocket and opened the clinic back door. The building was dark and the smells of cleaning products filled the air. Thank God for high school students who’d do anything for extra credit. One less menial task Dani had to handle, more time for the animals. Brenda, the clinic’s receptionist, usually turned on every light in the place when she arrived, so Dani would be alone for now, just the way she liked it.
She pulled the white Beaumont Clinic lab coat over her jeans and flannel shirt and headed to the recovery room to check on their only overnight guest. Boxer, a young French bulldog, rose slowly to his feet and watched every move as she approached. She’d neutered him yesterday afternoon, but he hadn’t come out of anesthesia as quickly as she liked so she’d kept him for observation, checking on his condition a couple of times during the night when she couldn’t sleep. Today his eyes were clearer and his movements, though cautious, indicated he’d recovered well.
“Good morning, Boxer, my boy. How are you? A little less baggage down below, but that doesn’t mean you can’t play. Trust me.” She gently lifted him from the pen, removed the Elizabethan collar, and snuggled him against her neck. He nuzzled and licked the side of her face, a sure sign he was feeling better. She placed him on an exam table and checked the surgical site. No redness or elevated temperature, only slight swelling, and no discharge, all good signs. “You’ll be able to go home today, my friend, but unfortunately you’ll have to wear the collar of shame for a few days. Sorry about that.”
Boxer shivered, and Dani tucked him inside her coat and walked through the exam area into the back where the washer and dryer were located. She threw a clean towel in the dryer, turned it on for a few minutes, and then wrapped it around her young charge. “Doesn’t that feel good, boy?” Sinking to the floor against the dryer, she held Boxer to her chest. These were the moments she loved, comforting an animal and making a difference in a life. Helping animals was easy. People proved more challenging with their expectations and potential to cause pain.
She scratched the little guy behind his ears. “Are you ready to go home?”
Boxer made a small sound in his throat which she interpreted as a definite yes.
She’d give anything to be back in Baltimore. So many things in this rural practice differed from her dream job at the Maryland Zoo, city versus country being only the start. Her room at the B and B was clean, comfortable, and homey, but eating meals with strangers as if they were family was just weird. She enjoyed a more contemporary style, the vibrancy of city life, and not so much togetherness. This place was so peaceful she’d resorted to a phone app with city sounds to fall asleep. But unlike the city, everyone she’d met was nice, too nice, and too interested in her and her past.
“Are you hungry, Boxer?”
“Oh my God!”
Startled by the unexpected voice, Dani jerked and hugged Boxer closer. She was engrossed in her patient and hadn’t registered Brenda’s arrival or noticed when she turned on the clinic lights.
Brenda stood in the doorway, her leathery skin pale, with one hand over her heart and the other clinging to a greasy paper bag. “You scared the wet out of me. I parked in front so I didn’t know anyone else was here. You should’ve turned the lights on to save us both the loss of a couple years’ growth.” Brenda shivered and pulled an elbow-patched sweater tighter, which reeked with the scent of cigarette smoke. “This place is cold enough to hang meat. The cleaner must’ve been having a hot flash last night.” She paused long enough for Dani to respond, but when she didn’t, continued. “I stopped by the Pine Cone Diner and picked up two ham biscuits for me and Trip, but it’s hit or miss with her. Want one?”
“No thanks, Brenda.”
“I can always eat it cold for lunch. Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for a response, she pulled a box of supplies closer and sat down. “They were busier than moths in a mitten over at the diner. Thought I’d fade waiting for this.” She pulled a sandwich from the bag and took a huge bite. “Mmm…that is some kind of good. Bud is a cantankerous old hoot, but he makes a mean flaky biscuit with country ham. Chatty Jolene sends her best, whatever that means. You have got to try this at least.” She shoved the biscuit toward Dani.
The still warm smell of lard and flour almost made Dani heave. She shook her head, amazed at the gusto with which Brenda attacked her food. She rivaled a ravenous dog but proved entirely capable of multitasking as she launched into questions with a mouthful of food.
“Can I give Boxer a taste? He looks hungry.”
“Not just yet. I’ll feed him in a bit, if Tim doesn’t show up first.”
“Sorry, boy.” Brenda petted Boxer’s head and took another bite of her sandwich. “So, tell me things about yourself, Danielle Wingate.”
Dani winced. Brenda, like most people in this town, should come with a warning sign: Have News Will Travel. “It’s Dani and there’s not much to tell.”
“A sweet young thing like you is bound to have some stories. This is just girl talk over breakfast, and you can trust me, unlike some of the blabbermouths in this town, say Jolene for instance. My lips are sealed.” She twisted her thumb and forefinger in front of her mouth.
If only. Dani stroked Boxer’s fur, suddenly needing him more than the reverse. Did Brenda really think she could simply demand her life story? What happened to Southern tact and subtlety? “I’m really not into girl talk.” The front bell chimed, and Dani scrambled to her feet.
“Guess that’s Tim to collect Boxer,” Brenda said with a disapp
ointed sigh.
“Would you mind reassuring him while I finish examining Boxer and make sure he’s ready to go home?”
Brenda stuffed the rest of the biscuit in her mouth and mumbled something that resembled sure. She was a good vet receptionist because she knew everybody in town and the names of their pets. She was a talker, able to calm and distract anxious pet parents while their babies received treatment. But she also smoked so much her clothes stank, and it required a halo of pine air fresheners to keep the odor down in the office. Plus, she tried too hard to be everybody’s friend and asked way too many personal questions for Dani.
She finished Boxer’s exam, secured his E-collar, and clipped on a leash so he could walk out to meet his dad. Tim knelt on the floor as they approached, picked Boxer up, and scratched a favorite spot on his shoulders. The way Boxer’s cone bounced repeatedly off Tim’s face as he licked him assured Dani he was cared for and loved.
“I think he’s going to be just fine. He came through the surgery like a champ. I’d keep him away from other animals for a while until he’s healed a bit more. Leave the cone on so he can’t lick the incision site, and check daily for swelling, redness, or discharge. If you notice any of those, bring him back in. And don’t bathe him for at least ten days. Any questions?”
Tim’s eyes dimmed with the fear she’d seen so often in parents who weren’t quite sure they could handle such an important task. “Uh…will he be in pain? Can he eat?”
“Maybe you could offer him a boiled egg or something softer for a few days, then slowly add his usual fare back in. I was going to give him something before you arrived, but I’m sure he’d rather eat with you at home. If he’s not drinking, put some beef or chicken broth in the water. You’ve had him since he was a pup, so you’ll notice if he acts uncomfortable. I’ve prescribed some mild pain relievers. If you have any questions or concerns, you can always reach Trip or me. One of us is on call twenty-four seven.”
Tim pumped her hand for several seconds. “Thank you, Doc, thank you so much. I just don’t know what I’d do without this little fellow.”
