by Ash Harlow
Lulah nodded, “Yes.”
“How is she when he’s gone?”
“Huh,” Lulah’s mouth quirked. “No one’s ever asked that before. We’ve always been so worried about Vince. How is Calliope? Calliope is concerned when Vince goes off. She’s edgy, she settles but she doesn’t relax. She keeps one eye on the door, even when she’s sleeping. Calliope is very good at not making trouble, not appearing to be neurotic, but she’s certainly unnerved when Vince leaves her.”
“When he needs to go into the wilderness, Vince should take Calliope with him. There’s plenty of research out there that suggests they can help each other. I don’t know…there’s probably a bit of training on the dog’s part that needs to happen, but if you want to help this guy, that’s a direction you might want to take. ”
Marlo was amazed by Adam’s reading of the situation. “Nice insight, thank you.” He was new on the scene yet took the care to look a bit deeper at what they were doing. Did he have experience with the dynamics of a human/dog relationship? Did he have an understanding of the way a dog can help heal a person?
Lulah took the salad from Adam. “I’ll put this with the other food.”
When she was out of earshot Adam asked, “Is Vince Lulah’s boyfriend?”
Marlo shook her head. “Vince helps out around here when he can. It’s pretty informal because he can’t quite hold things together, yet. When his demons come for him he has this need to disappear. You know, Lulah’s so vibrant and fun, yet she has this calming effect on the more edgy people who pass through. It’s all cool.” She smiled. “Come on, grab a drink and I’ll introduce you to Jeff, our veterinarian.”
She left Adam and Jeff outside, each cradling a beer, and made her way to the kitchen. Her friend Sally was in there, pulling together a meal in that way she had of making the chore seem effortless. It was her efficiency that helped her keep her job as Jeff’s technician, but today Sally seemed to be deliberately avoiding him. Her study for a diploma in Animal Homeopathy could sometimes be a contentious issue between the vet and his right-hand assistant.
“Jeff’s glass looks empty. Do you want to take him another beer?” Marlo asked Sally.
Sally shook her head. “No. If I take him a beer he’ll want a soda.”
“Ah, you’ve done it again, haven’t you?” Sally struggled to stop herself from offering Jeff’s clients additional advice, or, as Jeff put it; pushing her witch’s potions on the unwary.
Sally shrugged. “Maybe.”
“What this time?”
“Thunder. A guy brought his dog in who was scared of thunder. Homeopathic remedies are brilliant for that sort of thing.”
“Heck, Sal, you’ll lose your job. You’ve already had a warning.”
“I know, I’m trying, okay?”
“Why not take him a beer. Get back in his good books.”
Sally rolled her eyes. “His legs aren’t painted on. He can do his own bar work. I’m busy with this bread.” She carried on filling a basket with hot rolls from the oven and when she was done, she straightened to put the basket on the bench. “He watches you all the time, you know.”
Marlo paused. “Who? Adam?”
“No, Santa Claus. Who do you think?”
Marlo concentrated on measuring oil into the bowl where she was making vinaigrette.
Sally took the oil bottle from her before lowering her head a little to get right in her face. “I bet that right now, if you cast a sultry glance Adam’s way, you’ll catch his eye.”
Marlo shifted slightly and began whisking the dressing.
“Go on,” Sally insisted, “prove me wrong.”
She had nothing to prove, because there wasn’t anything going on between her and Adam, was there? On the other hand, perhaps Sally was right. If Adam watched her all the time, maybe he was interested. She shook off the bad feeling that the prospect of turning into a perpetual dreamer gave her. I am not my mother. But she was curious, now.
She lifted her head a tiny bit, her eyebrows straining up so that she could get a quick and, hopefully unnoticed, view of Adam. And, yep, he was watching her. His mouth parted and she ducked her head and quickly looked away. Her heart hammered in her chest and that weird prickling started up in her veins, the crook of her arms, the back of her neck. Without too much effort she could still feel his hand gripping her wrist. She whisked the oil and vinegar with renewed force.
“And at the risk of stating the obvious, I think you’ll find you’re now blushing.”
“Sally, stop it. I’m not blushing,” Marlo whispered. She glanced around quickly. “Somebody will hear you.”
Her friend was giving her that skeptical, over the top of her glasses look. “So the pink is some sort of reflection off the tomatoes in the salad? You got the hots for the new boy, Marlo Croft?” She punctuated the question with an eyebrow wiggle. Sally had engaged her inner terrier. She wouldn’t let go until she had the answer she wanted.
“He’s not the new boy…am I really pink? I don’t have the hots for him—maybe the warms. Is that possible?”
Sally laughed. “Warms…give me a break. A ‘warm’ phase doesn’t exist. How it works is cold to hot, instant attraction.”
“No, really, I’m not like that. He’s just visiting. I don’t even know how long he’s going to be here.”
Sally jabbed a finger at her. “You, girl, are totally like that. Except you’re playing it cool. That’s good. Keep that up.”
Marlo poured the dressing into a small jug. “Sal, I’m not playing anything. I don’t know how to do that. There’s nothing going on.”
“If you say so.” Sally looked over at Adam again. “He’s rather divine, though. Those eyes! Jeez, I’d tread water in those deep blue pools any day.”
“I’d drown. I can’t swim,” Marlo admitted.
“Poor guy doesn’t have a chance. The single women in town are drawing lots for him.”
Marlo’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Lottie at the Cake Whole Café made cupcakes in his honor, decorated with the New Zealand flag…except she got it a bit wrong and added an extra star and made it the Australian flag. That’s like putting stars and stripes all over a maple leaf. Apparently Adam was very gracious and pretended not to notice, but Ricky Tonkin came in and announced her error to a full shop. Honestly, that kid’s only eight and he knows way too much for comfort.”
“So do you! How do you find this stuff out? Have you been hanging out in town?”
“I don’t need to go to town. The clinic waiting room has been buzzing like a hive with a new queen.”
“Wow, I’ve been missing out.”
“Oh, not according to the word around town.”
“Oh, God, no.”
“Oh, God, yes. But don’t worry. Cleo at the Well Bun Cake Stop says she can outdo you and the Cake Whole. She’s been on the Internet and found a heavily guarded recipe for a very special cookie they eat in New Zealand.”
Marlo snorted. “So heavily guarded it’s on the Internet?”
“Precisely. And she knows that when she makes them for Adam he will have eyes only for her. They’re called Anzus cookies or Anzac biscuits or something. Apparently Kiwis call cookies ‘biscuits.’ Or so Cleo says.”
Marlo laughed. “Cleo’s old enough to be Adam’s mother.”
“Well—” Sally waggled her finger, “—Cleo says a boy that far away from home always welcomes a little mothering.” She lifted her glass and traced the ring of condensation it left on the counter top. “What a shame he’s married.”
“Married?” Marlo blew out a breath. Married. Wow, I didn’t see that coming.
“What? Hadn’t you noticed?”
“No, no I hadn’t. What was I supposed to notice, anyway?”
“Ring finger, left hand, gold band. A dead giveaway.”
She hadn’t seen a wedding ring. But why would she? You can’t see what you’re not looking for, and she wasn’t looking for a relationship. They
were simply thrown together because of work. Maybe they had been a bit flirty, but that would stop. Immediately.
“Who’s married?”
“Oh, hi, Lulah.”
Lulah waited. “Like I asked…” She picked a piece of tomato from the salad.
Marlo stilled Lulah’s hand. “No picking.”
She shifted her hand and grabbed another piece. “Still waiting.”
“Adam’s married.”
Lulah swallowed. “Oh, weird. I never noticed a wedding ring or anything. Did he tell you?”
“No, Sally says he’s married.”
Lulah gave Sally a questioning look.
“Hello, wedding ring.” Sally was waving her left hand around again.
“Never saw it myself,” Lulah replied. “Is this food decorative or are we going to eat some time?”
“Lulah, you’re like a man. How do you stay so thin when all you seem to think about is food and all you do is eat? I think you’re harboring a tapeworm. I’ve got a remedy for that!”
She held her hands in front of her face. “Argh, Sally, stay away from me with your evil potions, witch. You’re an animal homeopath and I’m human.”
“The principles are the same—”
“No offense, Sally, but if I had a headache, I wouldn’t go to the vet. So you stick to squirting your potions into the mouths of animals and we can stay friends.”
Marlo broke in before Sally launched into one of her lectures. “Come on, let’s distribute the loaves and fishes to the starving hordes.”
Marlo crossed the courtyard with her plate of food. Everyone had gathered around the main table to eat. As she approached, Adam stood and pulled out the chair on his left side. She stole a quick look at his hand, fixing on the wedding band. The narrow plain one on his ring finger, that sat there in great, gold glory—an Olympian first prize for some other woman. How could she have missed it?
Jeff kept them laughing with funny tales from the vet clinic. Sally stole the occasional glance in Marlo’s direction, but years ago Marlo had perfected the smile that hid a thousand anxieties, all lip-action without the joy. She plastered it on her face and it was so convincing even Sally stopped checking up on her.
Adam bent toward her. “You’re very quiet. Are you okay?” Now his low voice and warm breath against her ear were improper.
She blocked him with her shoulder and leaned away. “Of course, I’m fine.” She pushed back her chair and stood, as she reached for his empty plate. “Would you like some more?”
“Thanks, I enjoyed it but I’ve eaten enough.”
Jeff spoke. “I did a year in New Zealand on a veterinary exchange.”
“Really? Where were you based?” Adam asked.
“I was in the Waikato, in a rural practice.”
Adam shook his head. “I don’t believe it. The Waikato. That’s where our family farms are.”
“You’re kidding me. What’s the name of the farms? Maybe I visited at some time.”
“Guildford Dairy.”
“Wow, I did visit. What a small world! I was at Waikato Rural Animal Health with Jock Dale.”
“Jock is a great guy. He must be close to retiring now.”
“He’ll never retire. Such a brilliant mind. I learned so much from him. So, Guildford Dairy?” Jeff put down his beer. “You must be Adam Guildford.”
Adam’s eyes darkened, his face impassive. “That’s right.”
Jeff shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry. I heard what happened through the clinic. I’ve stayed in touch with some of them. It must have been terrible.”
Marlo carried a stack of empty plates and put them by the dishwasher. She walked to the other end of the kitchen where a large window framed a view out over a meadow. In the darkness there was little to see despite the moonlight. She bent at the waist, folding over to press both hands on the bench, to stretch. What a week. As if battling Justice’s defenses weren’t enough, now Vince was out there somewhere, fighting his own dark spirits. That first week he’d arrived at the Sanctuary, she had avoided him, unable to see past the emotionally bound and physically daunting man. Then she got the chance to see Calliope do her work on him, to watch Vince accept without question the offer from a dog to help him heal. That was the moment she recognized the special person he was and learned her own lesson about judging books by covers.
As she straightened and stretched again, she heard the even footfall and long stride of a man, across the kitchen. Damn.
“Don’t get up. Keep stretching until you’re done.”
Adam.
“Big week, huh?”
Marlo stood. “It’s always a big week around here.”
“Yeah, I bet. Look, I’m bushed and you look pretty tired, too. I’m going to head back to the apartment. I’ll walk you back to the house, if you like.”
“I’m okay.”
“Sure you are, but it’s dark. We walked down together and I’m not keen on leaving you here to walk back alone.”
“Maybe I’m not ready to go.” Why was she being so defiant? She was more than ready to go.
“I think you are, but I’ll wait.”
Her eyes closed in a little mark of defeat. “You’re right; I’d like to get home.”
She walked this path several times each week, usually alone. Tonight they walked in silence but she could still feel him, feel an intimacy as if they were connected in some way. A little piece of her guard dropped when he was around, so that she didn’t have to keep such a vigilant watch on her surroundings.
She was conscious of their breathing, the matching cadence of their step, and his closeness even though they kept several feet apart. When they reached Adam’s car she barely paused. “Good night, Adam.” She continued walking as she spoke.
He caught hold of her sleeve. “Wait. Marlo. You and I…me, it’s complicated, okay?”
“It always is.” She took a deep breath, struggling to control her voice. She needed to get away from him, the dark, and that voice. That gorgeous, kind, wrap-me-in-warmth voice.
As if reading her mind he stepped toward her, into her space. He took her hand, delaying her departure, and bent to gently kiss her on her forehead. “Don’t judge me yet,” he whispered, allowing her to pull her hand from his grasp.
As she did, her fingers brushed across his wedding band. “I have to go.” Turning for the house she dismissed the lesson she’d learned earlier in the evening. His gold ring was the cover to a book she wouldn’t be opening.
Chapter Six
After a short drive, Adam let himself into the apartment he was renting. The room had classic short-term rental décor, comfortable but not homely enough to make you want to stick around and have your mates over. The entire complex had this theme that was all brown-bear-and-wilderness but was situated too far out of the woods, and too close to the harbor, to pull it off.
The apartment was completely devoid of anything personal. On the walls hung the usual repro artwork giving the place the ambience of a home-furnishings catalog. In his younger days he wouldn’t have noticed, but having made a home with a woman he loved, the stark and impersonal nature of the apartment disappointed him each time he entered. Thank God this was a temporary arrangement.
He poured himself a nightcap and stepped out into the warm night air onto the balcony overlooking the abandoned pool area. He looked at the pool, then at the whisky he’d poured. Setting the glass down, Adam returned inside, changed into a swimsuit and headed for the pool. He was edgy and could remove the sharpness through alcohol or a swim.
Their home became a house after Emma’s death. The memory of her didn’t haunt the place. He never caught a glimpse of her, nor the sound of her laughter, or her scent; instead the house was simply bleak and empty.
At first he had reached to the bottle for a bit of clichéd comfort. After a few mornings of stellar headaches and churning nausea, his liver joined in to confirm what his brain was trying to tell him—self-medicating with alcohol wasn’t going to achie
ve anything more than a major hangover. The only way to emerge from his hell was to keep in peak physical and emotional condition.
Physically pushing himself had helped in the start. Hurt that was tangible—the screaming muscles and fire in the lungs—that was something you could fight and take down. He began taking long runs out the back of the farm, but it wasn’t enough. The terrain soon became too smooth, too easy.
He had headed into the bush, the wilderness, using rutted animal tracks, following streams and climbing high ridges. And he ran until the numbness went away and the raw hurt began. Ran until his bare legs and arms bled, torn by shrubby manuka bush and tātaramoa barbs, until, now physically broken, the tears that came covered every type of pain he knew. He mightn’t know why Vince had a need to ‘go bush’ but he certainly understood what he got from it.
On the days he had better control of his emotions, he would swim. Long ocean swims battling the sloppy sea chop or the rolling ocean swell. Battling the bad thoughts devouring his mind that were fueled by the merging of loss and guilt.
He had to be so sure of himself on the swimming days. Sure that sheer will would beat down his torment—the if-only replay that looped through his head. He needed the confidence that he would carry on, so he took the memory of Emma with him. In his mind, he positioned her off his left shoulder in the place she always swam when they did that together, so that when he lifted his head for a breath he could see she was okay. If she needed help he was in the right place to protect her, and they’d tackle the sea the way they had when she’d been alive.
Protect her. How pitiful, this conjuring up of Emma, this attempt to give himself an opportunity to save her. But he needed her phantom image, because in his soul he understood all it would take was a big suck in, a big breath of water instead of air and the pain would end.
Now he stood at the side of the pool, edgy, little jags of emotion awakened and firing through his body. He hauled in some focus and dived. Once he surfaced he started to swim, mentally working through a checklist of his form. He planned to be in the water about an hour, so he started concentrating on his stroke, making each one matter while at the same time maintaining a slow, strong rhythm. Next he found and centered on his kick and finally he shifted to his breathing. Once he had established a comfortable cadence, he could let his mind go free.
