by Ali Parker
It remained to be seen what Haven’s reaction to the article would be, but my day was going well so far. Maybe my luck would hold.
Chapter 37
HAVEN
It was another scorcher of a day, but at least the sun and sweat were distracting me from the disaster my life was about to become. Mae walked at my side, her tail wagging as she greeted the overnight guests I took out of the kennels to check them over.
“You could help, you know,” I said to her. “You really could be doing so much more than you are. Can’t you smell if there’s something wrong with them? Just bark if this one has a busted knee.”
She just looked up at me with her smiling face and licked my hand when I scratched the top of her head. “Yeah. Okay, you giant goofball. Go play with Auntie Kayla. She should be getting here any minute now.”
We’d been driving in together a lot recently, since she came over early in the morning to have coffee and help with the horses. Mae had gotten used to having her around and was all kinds of mopey this morning that it was just the two of us.
So was I. This was the day the clinic would start running dry, but Kayla had begged off this morning, claiming to have an errand to run.
I didn’t question her. It wasn’t her job to babysit me or hold my hand when the bomb exploded, but I sure was looking forward to her getting here.
When we’d arrived, I’d gone through my usual morning routine. I’d chosen to sterilize the waiting and exam rooms instead of having coffee and reading the news, though. There was no reason why I had to read whatever nonsense Colton had published before I was absolutely forced to.
Perhaps by the angry mob with pitchforks who were sure to start picketing outside any moment now.
I sighed. More than once since I’d received his text, I’d considered moving again. It wouldn’t exactly be new to me, but I had no idea how wide the news would spread. Everything I had was also invested in the clinic, and now I had the farm.
Moving on just wouldn’t be as easy to do.
A part of me refused to leave just because of this ill-informed, misguided article published by a desperate man. If it all went to hell, though, I knew I might not have a choice. I could move and start all over or watch everything I’d worked for go up in flames.
Not an ideal choice, but one I might have to make soon anyway.
Luckily, Kayla chose that moment to arrive. “Honey, I’m here!”
“I’m outside,” I called, watching our patient’s gait to determine if she was still limping. The Labrador had badly injured the pads on her foot and we’d kept her for fear of infection but she seemed to be doing well. “Mistletoe is going to be okay. I think we can let Mrs. B know she can come get her. Come out here and let me know what you see.”
Kayla waltzed outside with the hugest grin on her face. At first, I thought it was about Mistletoe being okay, but then I noticed her carrying a paper at her side.
She dipped her head one way, then another, her ponytail swishing from side to side. “Yep, I agree. She looks much better than when she was admitted. Mrs. B will be so happy to have her girl back after three days here. I’m glad we stopped the infection.”
Instead of joining me outside, she skipped back inside and yelled from the doorway, asking if I wanted coffee. I replied yes and continued with my examinations, waiting for her to come back out. She never did, though.
By the time I headed back to my office, drenched in sweat and parched, I looked for Kayla inside. She sat behind the front desk, her feet propped up on the counter as she painted her toenails a cheerful shade of taupe.
“What’s up, Kayla? Why didn’t you come back outside?”
She smirked at me. “Your coffee is on your desk. Have you read the paper today?”
“Nope. I’m planning on ignoring it.”
The phone rang, and she answered it with ease. She’d been doing it for months now, so that wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was she told the client that unless it was an emergency, we could only see their pet next week.
When she hung up and caught me frowning, her smirk grew. “It’s been ringing off the hook since I got here. That’s why I didn’t come back outside. Too busy making appointments.”
“What’s going on? Why is it suddenly ringing off the hook? We haven’t had more than maybe four calls a day since I opened the place.”
Kayla nodded in the direction of my office. “Read the paper. I think you might understand once you do.”
I huffed out a frustrated breath, but the look in her eyes told me she wasn’t going to say anything more than that. Why she wanted to subject me to the cruel and inhuman punishment of reading the piece that was going to destroy my life, I didn’t know.
It definitely didn’t explain why the phone was ringing so much all of a sudden. Were people that eager to check out alleged criminals? Was that it?
I suppose it has to be.
With a heavy heart and heavier feet, I shuffled toward my office. The coffee was cold by the time I finally sat down after wasting more time washing my hands three times more than I needed to.
Since I doubted I would even notice once I started reading, I didn’t bother freshening it up. The newspaper sat on my desk glaring certain doom at me.
I knew it was better to get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid instead of slowly picking and peeling, but it was intimidating. Reaching for it like it was a snake about to strike, I withdrew my hand several times before I picked it up.
The headline screamed at me in big, bold, capital letters, but I had to look twice at what the letters spelled. EDUARDO MARCO MARTINEZ: THE MAN, THE HERO, THE MYSTERIOUS DONOR.
I blinked rapidly, reading it again to make sure I wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. But it was right there, as big as half my fist, and it was unmistakable.
The byline read C. Stark again, so I knew I wasn’t getting things mixed up somehow. My eyes burned with tears from the moment I started reading, and it very soon became clear why our phones were ringing the way they were.
When I was a little boy, my mother told me superheroes didn’t exist in the real world. She told me that they lived in our imaginations and in the pages of comic books.
Little did she know that we were about to meet one. He didn’t wear a shiny cape or have an outfit made of materials only found on a distant planet. Instead, he was dressed in torn jeans and a faded shirt with a cowboy hat on his head.
There were scars on his hands, and laughter lined his mouth and wrinkled his eyes. I remember those eyes. I always will.
They were big and brown, with knowledge, passion, and kindness etched into them. I didn’t have the pleasure of knowing the man very well. I didn’t really have the pleasure of knowing him at all, but the mere fact that he was there and that I’d met him is the reason why I’m here writing for you all to this very day.
Some of you might remember that some time ago, I wrote an article about a mysterious donor for a local charity event. That donor’s name was EM Martinez.
He jumped out at me from the donor page for the event, and I remember thinking it was strange that I’d never heard of this donor. After all, I kept a careful eye out for our local charities, believing myself to be some kind of avenger if and when our organizations were being utilized for any nefarious purposes.
A part of the reason why I did this was because, in my cynical frame of mind, honed by many years of sniffing out the bad guys who walk among us, I’d once met a man I’d simply known as Marco and I thought it was my responsibility to protect those who looked out for our community.
See, Marco was a man who was the best of us.
A man who, without question, comment, or hesitation, laid down his life for a young boy in danger.
A man who I had no idea was named Eduardo Marco Martinez.
In my complete ignorance and in my usual admittedly overconfident manner, I convinced myself there had to be a story behind this donor. Who in their right mind gave thousands of dollars to charit
y without taking any credit for it whatsoever?
I learned from the organizer of the charitable festival in question that the donor hadn’t even wanted their name published, which only served to arouse my suspicions that much more. Surely, no one would give so much money without wanting anything for it in return.
My own curiosity, combined with my own skepticism, left me unable to see the charitable deed for what it was. In a move I will regret making until the end of time, I decided to bait this donor.
In my previous article, I included every accusation I could think of—none of them founded, none of them researched, none of them accurate in any way whatsoever.
I didn’t know at the time how wrong I was, but I also didn’t care enough to do more digging before I published. All I wanted was to elicit a response from said donor. I didn’t get one.
There was one response from an unknown reader, and it only served to provoke my interest so much more. Even without it though, I’m ashamed to admit I would’ve chased this story anyway, despite my very own editor and best friend himself expressing concern about my methods.
I even bought a dog, ladies and gentlemen. I learned that the name of the donor led back to a veterinarian in our town who had opened a new animal clinic, so I got a dog and headed down there.
Now before you start accusing me of cruelty, Tiger was a spur of the moment purchase but he had been planned for a long time. I’ve desperately wanted a pet for years but the job never allowed me to get one until now.
As I write this, the beast is sleeping with his head on my lap while I sit on the floor with my laptop. He has become my constant companion and a best friend in his own right. I won’t deny that we’ve had our hard times.
On the first day I took him to the clinic, for example, we were terrified of each other. I met a vet tech named Haven at Eduardo’s Angels, and she is largely to thank for the relationship Tiger and I have now.
I should rephrase that. I thought she was a vet tech. I was so convinced that the mysterious EM Martinez was the owner and therefore the veterinarian that I only very recently made more inquiries. It turns out that the vet tech is, in fact, the veterinarian who owns the place.
Her father was the superhero I once met. The man named Marco who gave his life for a little boy named Colt.
See, folks, she registered the clinic in her father’s name and named it after him. Even gave donations in honor of the life of a hero.
She never wanted recognition because she didn’t feel like it was hers to take. I was sitting on the wrong damn pot the entire time. There really was another motive for giving that amount of money without wanting anything for it, and it was love.
Love for her father. Love for the job. Love for any animal who needs help.
I was the one who perverted that. I was the one who assumed the worst and wrote it up for all of you to consume. But I was also the one who got consumed by it.
In the midst of my wild goose chase, I was also the one who fell in love. It’s a whopper, I know. Who knew reporters with blackened hearts like mine were capable of things like love?
Well, not me. That’s for sure.
I only realized it after making her believe that I was never even after her, that all I ever wanted was the story. I’m an idiot. I know that now.
To anybody out there who has ever been the subject of an article meant to bait, I apologize. Whether I was the one who wrote it or not.
I’ve realized a lot of things recently, but one of the most important is that I need to look back at the ethical code a little more regularly. I apologize that I haven’t done that.
It’s not enough, but it’s all I can do at this point. Apologize and, as our one concerned reader put it, be better. I will be better, do better, from now on. You all have my word on that.
Haven, if you’re reading this, please know that I am sorry. From the bottom of my jaded, broken heart, I am sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this, and neither did your father.
After everything I’ve learned about your family and everything he did for me, there’s nothing I can say here that will fix what I’ve done. If it helps at all, I know I was wrong, and when my mother read that same article you did, the one I planned on publishing, she told me to shred it. She even told me to beat any computers I may have sent it to with a bat to delete all my lies before they could get out there.
I don’t know when, or if, any of you will read anything more from me. Obviously, I’ve taken a beating as a result of this story. My heart is broken and my career might well be too.
So today’s exposé is really one about me. It’s about a solitary, messed-up soul who made more mistakes than he can count or apologize for.
If you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, do me one favor. If you have a pet in need of any care, please consider Eduardo’s Angels as your clinic.
They really do good work. After all, if they could help me and Tiger get along, they can help anybody. Plus, at least you know for a fact the money they make goes to good causes. Even if I couldn’t see it at first.
Thank you for always taking your precious day to read what I write. I promise to make it worth your time from now on.
Chapter 38
COLTON
Sunlight shone into my mother’s room, and her sheer curtains billowed in the breeze coming in through her open windows. She wore a serene smile, sitting in an armchair in the lounge area I’d set up for her beside them.
A magazine was open in her lap, but she was gazing at some spot in the middle distance outside. The nurse on duty walked in with a tray of food. The scent of grilled salmon and vegetables must have drawn her attention because she suddenly blinked herself out of her thoughts and glanced at me.
“Did you make that?” she asked, adjusting herself to sit up straighter in her chair. “It smells delicious.”
I pushed off the doorframe I’d been leaning on, just taking in the moment, and grinned as I walked into the room. “I did. I’ve learned a few tricks.”
“I can see that.” Her eyes tracked the nurse who was carrying the tray to her. “You don’t have to serve my meals in here, you know? I could’ve come out to eat in the dining room like a grownup. I could even have cooked my own meal.”
Chuckling as I shook my head at her, I lowered myself into the seat next to hers. “Let me take care of you a little, would you? I know you can cook for yourself, and I know you could’ve come out to eat, but you looked so peaceful that I thought we could have lunch in here today.”
She studied my expression for a moment before nodding. “That sounds lovely. Thank you for spoiling me, but I won’t have you hanging around all day taking care of your mother. Don’t you have things to do? A certain young woman to speak to?”
I scrubbed my hands over my cheeks, my chest deflating when I let out a sigh. “I’d love to speak to her, but she still isn’t speaking to me. I haven’t heard a thing from her.”
Mom’s gaze lifted to the grandfather clock in the corner. “The article has only been out for a few hours. Maybe she hasn’t seen it yet.”
“Maybe.” I forced myself to give her a smile and tapped out a beat on my thighs. “That’s enough about that, though. Speculation about whether she’s seen it or not isn’t going to make a difference. Let’s eat.”
The nurse came back in with a plate of food for me and one for her, even though I’d told her I’d get my own. She shrugged when she saw me looking at her. “I’m a grandmother and a nurse. I’m used to taking care of people. You’re going to be seeing a lot of me, so you might as well make peace with it now. It’ll save us some arguments later.”
I laughed but accepted the plate she handed over to me. “I’ll get the next one.”
She clicked her tongue, smiled, and took the chair on Mom’s other side. She opened her mouth, no doubt to deliver another witty reply, but we were interrupted by a knock at the door.
Both of us moved to get up, but I arched a brow to stop her. “Don’t even think about it. Eat
before it gets cold. I’ll get it. It’s probably a delivery I’ll have to sign for anyway.”
I hadn’t ordered anything, but Ross sent me random shit from time to time. Gag gifts mostly.
Setting my plate down on the coffee table, I stood up and headed to the front door to see what he’d gotten me this time. He knew Mom had moved in, so I was hopeful that it was something like flowers for her instead of some of the more racy things he’d sent in the past.
I opened the door, prepared to tell off the delivery person if they were holding a bouquet of condoms filled with helium or something, but it died on my lips when I saw who was standing on the other side.
Haven’s eyes were filled with tears, but she had the sweetest smile on her face as she held up a copy of the day’s paper. “Can we talk?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. Glancing back into my condo over my shoulder, I realized that we probably didn’t need an audience for what we had to say to each other. “Could you give me one minute? Just one. I’ve moved my mom in with me. I need to check with the nurse that they have everything they need since this is the first day, and then I’m all yours.”
She nodded. “Of course. Actually, if we’re not going to talk here, there’s something I’d like to show you if you’re up for a drive.”
“I’m up for anything.” As long as it’s with you. “I’ll be right back.”
My heart was pounding as I turned away from her to walk back to my mother’s room. I had half a mind to drag Haven with me to make sure she wouldn’t leave before I could get back.
The only thing stopping me from doing it was that Mom wouldn’t just let her go after meeting her, and I really wanted to hear what she had to say. I’d have introduced her to my mother in a heartbeat if we didn’t have to work shit out between us first.
Mom’s eyes were dancing when I walked in. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
