Spirited 1

by Mary Behre

  The ambulance doors opened and the paramedics returned, effectively ending that conversation.

  Shifting closer to Jules, he wrapped an arm around her and did the one thing he told himself he’d never do; he begged. “Please forgive me, Jules. I love you. All of you. Just as you are.”

  He waited a long, lonely lifetime as she stared at him. Then she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. “I love you, too, Lambkins.”

  EPILOGUE

  “THANK YOU SO much for throwing our engagement party here,” Jules told April as they carried bowls of potato salad and chips to the backyard.

  “It’s the least we can do since you won’t let us pay for the wedding,” April replied, bringing up the same argument they’d been having for six months.

  “It’s not meant to hurt your feelings, April,” Jules explained, setting the dish on the picnic table beside the chips April had just deposited. “It’s important to Seth that we do this on our own. I think it’s his way of proving he can provide for me.”

  “Men are so odd.” When Jules laughed, April asked, “When does the English clan get here?”

  Jules checked her watch. “In about thirty minutes. Seth’s mom took Theresa to pick up her bridesmaid’s dress, then they’ll be over.”

  Milo made a noise in the bassinet he shared with Maeve. Jules followed April over to the portable crib that was sitting in the shade of a magnolia tree. At four months, the twins were small, but growing and happy. As for April, she glowed.

  “Family is everything.” April sighed, staring at her infants.

  “Yes,” Jules agreed, wrapping an arm around April’s unfairly-trim-since-she-just-had-twins body.

  April gave her a quick hug then headed back to the kitchen to bring more food. Jules followed. The front door opened to reveal Diana.

  She smiled and hurried over to hug Jules. “Hi, Jules!”

  “Hi, Diana.” Jules tried not to stare but it was hard.

  The Goth clothing was gone. Diana looked like she’d stepped out of 1985. Crimped hair, teased bangs, denim miniskirt, lace fingerless gloves, a pink button-down shirt with the collar turned up, and lacy socks with high heels.

  “Is Dev here?” Diana grinned wide.

  Jules blinked, surprised at the complete lack of black on Diana’s body and face. It took Jules a moment, then she replied, “Um, no, not yet. He’s picking up Shelley. They should be here in about an hour.”

  “Oh, I hope he gets here soon. I can’t stay long. I’ve got a hot date later with a guy I met at the community theater. I’d hate to leave without seeing Dev.” Diana shrugged. “What can I say, I miss seeing Dev in the shop. That is one fine EOMP. Oh well, where’s the food?”

  “Out back,” April said with a laugh.

  Diana waved and hurried to the backyard. April stared after her, then looked back at Jules in obvious confusion. “EOMP?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it stands for example of masculine perfection.”

  “Ah, makes sense.”

  Jules grinned. “By the way, I love her new look.”

  “Last week, I let her borrow a couple John Hughes DVDs from the eighties. Guess they really inspired her.” April laughed again.

  She sobered and asked quietly, “How’s the search for Hannah coming?”

  Jules shook her head. So far, TSS hadn’t been able to locate her baby sister, but she wouldn’t give up hope. “The private detectives are still searching for her.”

  “They’ll find her, just like they did Shelley.” April gave her a conciliatory hug, then picked up the bowl of Watergate salad from the counter and strode to the door.

  “Dev found Shelley, but I’m not sure who benefitted more there.” Jules had to smile. Life was so much better than she’d ever dreamed possible. And soon Hannah would be found and their family reunited at last.

  Jules picked up the tray of cucumber sandwiches and followed April. They made their way across the freshly cut lawn to the food tables.

  “I think that’s the last of it,” April said, brushing her hands together. She glanced around the yard. “Now where did Ernie and Seth get off to? They need to bring out the coolers and fire up the grill before the guests come.”

  Seth and Big Jim came from around the corner of the house. But they weren’t alone; another older man and woman followed them. Jules and April headed toward them.

  Seth wrapped his arms around Jules and tugged her close. She couldn’t resist playing with his curly locks. They were a little longer than usual, because when he hadn’t been at the station or home making love with her, he’d been studying for the sergeant’s exam. He kissed her quickly on the lips then turned to greet the new couple.

  “Jules, this is Captain Dave Peterson and his wife, Dora,” Seth said with a smile.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said. She shook their hands and continued the introductions. “These are my parents, April and B— um, Ernie.”

  “We’re pleased to meet you too, young lady,” the captain said. “We thank y’all for the invitation but we can’t stay long. I had some important news to share and felt it couldn’t wait.”

  “What news?” Jules asked, hoping it was what she thought it was.

  “Why don’t I let Seth tell you?”

  “You must stay and have a bite to eat, there’s really too much food.” April gestured toward the picnic table.

  Before they could answer, Maeve started crying. Mrs. Peterson’s eyes widened and she asked, “Do you have a baby? I just love babies.”

  “I have twins,” April replied. “Would you like to meet Jules’s baby brother and sister?”

  The moment April and Ernie led the captain and his wife away, Seth pulled Jules into his arms and kissed her. It wasn’t a simple, we’re-in-front-of-your-parents kiss. He claimed her mouth as if he were starving and she was the only food for miles. He tugged her close as if he couldn’t bear to let her go. Her heart swelled.

  “I love you, Seth,” she said, leaning back and staring into the melted-chocolate eyes that had stolen her breath the night they met. “Are you going to keep me in suspense? What’s the good news?” When he didn’t answer right away, she added, “Come on, lambkins, you can tell me.”

  “Ah, precious,” he chuckled. “That’s Sergeant Lambkins now.”

  Read on for a sneak peek at the next Tidewater novel from Mary Behre

  GUARDED

  Coming in Summer 2014 from Berkley Sensation

  “SOMETHING’S WRONG WITH Mr. Fuzzbutt.” Beau’s angelic voice rang out seconds before the backside of his long-haired, black guinea pig bounced before Dr. Shelley Morgan’s eyes. At almost the same moment a cry went up from the back room of the small veterinary clinic.

  “Shelley, I need you!” Feet pounded quickly down the short hall before Jack, the veterinary clinic’s too-excitable intern, burst into the room yelling, “Lucy is trying to turn Hercules into her Thanksgiving dinner. And this time I think she might just chew his balls off.”

  “Language! And Thanksgiving’s four weeks away,” Shelley said, pushing to her feet and sweeping the fur ball known as Mr. Fuzzbutt into her hands.

  But Jack hadn’t heard her. The intern/groomer/assistant had already spun around and disappeared into the back room. His cries of, “Stop that, Lucy. Get up, Herc,” were nearly drowned out by the cacophony of dogs barking.

  “Dr. M.? Can you help him?” Beau’s voice, still high-pitched from youth, wobbled as he spoke.

  She turned to the worried ten-year-old who was small for his age. His large, luminous brown eyes were framed by thick black glasses. His clothes, although threadbare and clearly hand-me-downs, were clean as were his faded blue sneakers.

  “Don’t worry, Beau. I’m sure he’ll be fine. Just have a seat in the waiting area and I’ll be back shortly. I’ll bring Mr. . . .” she couldn’t bring herself to say the word Fuzzbutt to the child, and settled with, “Your little buddy back after I’ve examined him.”

  Beau nodded. “Okay
, Dr. M., I trust you. But I can’t just sit and wait. How about I bring in the bags of dog food from outside?”

  “That would be a big help, Beau. You remember where the store room is? Just stack the ones you can carry in there. And don’t try to lift the big ones.”

  Not that the little guy would be able to do much. The last time the clinic received donations, the dog food had come in fifty pound bags. Beau likely didn’t even weigh that much. Plus, it had rained late last night and the town handyman she’d hired hadn’t had a chance to fix the hole in the shed’s roof. So chances were good several of the bags were sodden and useless.

  Still he beamed as if she’d just handed him a hundred-dollar bill. “You know it! I’ll have the bags all put away before you can bring Mr. Fuzzbutt back. Just you wait.”

  Then Beau was out the front door. The length of bells hanging from the handle jangled and banged against the glass as he took off around the corner to the storage shed.

  Gotta love small towns. Shelley couldn’t suppress a grin, even as good ole Mr. F. made a soft “whoop, whoop” noise in her hands. She glanced into his little black eyes and asked, “So are you really sick?”

  The eye contact formed an instant telepathic connection. Shelley’s world swirled to gray. Still vaguely aware of her surroundings, she focused her attention inward on the movie-like scenes sent from the little boar in her hands.

  An image of Beau’s anxious face peering between the bars of the cage, filling and refilling the bowl with pellets sprang into her mind. At first, she thought the little boar was repeating the same image over and over, but quickly realized what was happening.

  “Oh, so you’ve been eating,” she said. “But Beau doesn’t realize it because he’s been topping off the food bowl.”

  The guinea pig “whooped” again.

  She chuckled. “Well, you’re a pretty wise pig not to eat everything you’ve been given. Many others wouldn’t have such restraint. I’m not sure I would. You sure you don’t feel sick?”

  The little pig winged an image of Beau snuggling him close and crooning an off-key “Little Drummer Boy.” The image was so peaceful she almost forgot she was at the clinic.

  “Shell-ley,” Jack wailed.

  Shelley jumped and turned in time to see Jack burst through the swinging door separating the back hallway from the reception area of the clinic. “Jeez! Jack. You’ll freak out the animals.”

  “Come on. I can’t stop her and he’s just lying there!” Jack gestured wildly with both hands.

  Right. Lucy attacking Hercules. Although Lucy was all of three pounds and a ferret to Hercules, a one-hundred-pound dog. How much damage could she do?

  “It’s Wednesday,” Shelley said with a sigh. “Although, at least if it starts out like this, it can’t get any crazier.”

  Mr. Fuzzbutt whooped again. I swear, the little pig’s laughing at me.

  “Jack, take Mr. F. and put him in examination room one.” She hurried through the swinging white door, which led to the back. Stopping briefly to hand Beau’s pet to her too-excitable intern. “There’s a small cage in the cabinet under the sink. Pull it out and put him in it then meet me in the dog room.”

  Without waiting for a response, she hustled to the doggie spa. She usually avoided this area. She’d spent a weekend painting murals of fields, dog bones, blue skies, and fire hydrants on the walls, to give dogs and their owners the impression of a luxury spa. According to Jack and their boss, Dr. Alexander, her hard work paid off. Well, unless she was in there with the canines.

  Today, six dogs were there for the Thanksgiving Special, a deluxe grooming, complete with a complimentary toy turkey. Metal cages lined one wall, each with a plush foam bed. The occupants inside them waited in doggy paradise for their turn at the day’s scheduled luxurious treatment by Jack. Soft strains of Bach filtered through the air, barely audible over the ruckus of barks, yips, and howls as the canines commented on the show in the middle of the floor.

  That was, until one of them caught her scent. Mrs. Hoffstedder’s beagle noticed her first. He let out a single, high-pitched yowl, then lowered his head and covered his eyes with his paws. One by one, the other five dogs did the same.

  Shelley didn’t bother to wonder why they feared her. She’d given up asking that question years ago. It’s not like she’d ever beaten an animal in her life. Jeez, she didn’t even raise her voice. But almost every dog she’d come into contact with for the past seven years either hid from her or tried to attack her.

  Thank God, Jack remembered to lock their cages before he called for her or it would be dog-maggedon as the pooches ran for freedom.

  She had to be the world’s weirdest vet. Telepathic, she could talk to any animal alive including snakes, hedgehogs, and naked mole rats. Any animal that is, except for the canine variety. She hadn’t spoken to a single dog since Barty, her Bay Retriever, died in the car crash with her parents all those years ago.

  Dr. Alexander’s extremely valuable dog, Hercules, lay stretched out in the middle of the floor. Except for lifting his head to gaze mournfully at her, the large puppy remained still. No small feat considering Lucy, her beautiful cinnamon-colored sable ferret, was steadily chewing on his upper thigh, incredibly close to his testicles.

  “You okay, Hercules?” She asked, gingerly kneeling down beside the pair and making eye contact with the dog.

  Lifting only his head, he looked at her.

  The telepathic connection zapped into place. An image of her prying her ferret off his body followed by him licking his dangly bits in relief flashed through her mind. She had to put her hand to her mouth to stifle a chuckle. Herc let out a loud sigh and dropped his head back to the floor.

  Unlike every other dog in the world, Hercules neither feared nor loathed her. He didn’t love her either. Usually he ignored her completely. Rarely, he answered her questions but today he seemed to recognize if anyone could save his balls—literally—it was she. The big dog snorted in agreement, but remained still and silently waited for her to rescue him.

  “Lucy, why are you doing that?”

  The ferret glared up at Shelley briefly but continued to chew.

  In that momentary bit of eye contact, another collage of images winged into Shelley’s head. Hercules, the gaseous, had accidentally sat on Lucy, again, after eating his breakfast. Now she intended to put “that upstart pup” in his place.

  “All right, you had your revenge. It’s not like he wants to be gassy. Next time try to avoid him after he eats. Let’s go.” The ferret didn’t budge. Shelley prayed for patience and for no blood to be drawn. “Lucy, let go right now. You can’t gnaw off his leg. And if you could, he’d be three-legged, wobbly, and end up squashing you anyway. Then you’d be trapped and forced to breathe his stench all day.”

  Hercules let out a rumbling “woof” of assent and shifted his weight, as if threatening to fulfill Shelley’s prediction.

  Lucy leapt away from Hercules with a shriek. She raced up Shelley’s arm and wrapped herself around Shelley’s neck for comfort. “You’re all right, girl. Why don’t you snuggle with me for a bit, hmmm?”

  She patted the ferret on the head then rose to her feet. Hercules immediately began intimately examining his body, reassuring himself that he was still fully intact.

  “Wow, how do you do that?” Jack appeared behind her. She turned to find his brown eyes rounded and his mouth agape. “Ferrets are more like cats than dogs. But yours actually seems to understand you. Ooh! They could make a reality show out of you. It could be called The Ferret Whisperer.”

  Shelley swallowed a chuckle, no sense encouraging him. Instead, she spoke directly to the brown and white puppy-behemoth still at her feet. “You’re okay now, Hercules. It’s safe to move again. Thanks for not eating her.”

  Hercules sprang to his paws and raced out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

  And we’re back to ignoring me. The world is normal again.

  She chuckled and didn’t try to
disguise it this time.

  “Don’t laugh. I’m serious,” Jack said. “We could make some serious money if Hollywood ever heard about you.” Jack stood arms akimbo in the doorway. His shaggy black hair hung in his face. He jerked his head to the right, throwing the sideways bangs out of his eyes. “I swear, I went near her and that rat tried to munch on my fingers. But you . . . You walked in and talked to her like Dr. Freaking-Dolittle. And don’t think I haven’t seen you do it before. Mr. Fuzzbutt, for example. Yep, your parents mis-named you. You should have been called John Dolittle.”

  “I’m a woman.”

  “Jane then.”

  She shook her head at him. Little did Jack know, she was more like the fictional character than Hugh Lofting had ever dreamed possible. Except, she didn’t speak to animals in their own languages. Shelley simply communicated with them telepathically. On the empath level, words were universally understood and all creatures were connected. Well, mostly.

  Humans were an entirely different story. And a species she didn’t understand at all, despite being one.

  “Lucy’s a ferret, not a rat. If you’re going to be a vet you should know that. And as for what happened in the spa, it wasn’t hard to figure out what was going on. Look, she’s a good ferret who normally gets along with everyone, animals and people alike. I figured she must have been upset with Hercules. You saw him sit on her last week. And let’s face it; he hasn’t adjusted to the new dog food well. It didn’t take much of a mental leap to figure something like that might have happened again,” Shelley said, leaving the back room and heading toward her office.

  “Yeah, I suppose so.” Jack sounded disappointed, but he rallied. Hurrying down the hall, he reiterated his previous comment. “Still, I’ve seen you do that with other animals too. It’s like you know what they’re thinking. Is that how you skipped ahead in vet school? You read the minds of the animal patients. Hey, would that be cheating? Can I learn how to do it?”