“They’re not very big, are they?”
“Nathan, these are Southern deer. They’re not elk or moose. They run small. They come in either gray or beige, and I think they are beautiful.”
“Yeah, but they won’t do for a marketing campaign, I’m afraid. Now, about your skunks…”
* * *
EMMA PICKED UP her own SUV to lead Nathan into town for lunch. She had errands to run after he left, and her house was in the opposite direction from the route he’d be taking back to Memphis. No sense asking him to bring her home.
More to the point, drive time without his chattering to her held off any offers to return to her old job. So far he hadn’t actually offered. She’d be crazy not to want it. Nothing held her here now that her babies were going to the woods. She had no impact on Seth’s life. Barbara would find someone to take her place at the clinic.
They were at the café early enough to get a parking space. “What kind of restaurant is this?” Nathan asked as he slid into the banquette at the back of the café. With luck they’d avoid running into Seth, but if they did, they did. She couldn’t live her life avoiding him.
“Maker of the best steak burgers this side of the Tennessee River,” Emma said. “Morning, Velma, what’s the special?”
Velma stared at Nathan as though he had three noses. “Uh, chicken fried steak, corn on the cob and O’Brien potatoes.”
“Oh, goody,” Nathan whispered and then actually smacked his lips. “There goes my waistline.”
“We can do you a chef salad,” Velma said. “Diet dressing and all.” She didn’t sound pleased.
“Woman, are you mad? Of course I want the special! I am a child of the South. Fiddle-dee-dee, I’ll diet tomorrow.”
Velma went to put their orders in. As she moved away, a shadow that was all too familiar fell across their table.
The hair on Emma’s arms stood straight up and her stomach tightened. She’d felt him when he walked in the door. She also saw Nathan’s eyes widen as Seth’s shadow loomed over their booth. She looked up to say hello.
He was not alone. The woman with him was nearly as tall as Emma and every bit as slim. Her hair was short, cut in layers and completely white. No tinge of faded yellow or old-lady lavender. Since her unlined skin didn’t match the silvery hair, the hair must be prematurely white. She wore a long-sleeved jewel green silk shirt over black dress jeans that fit as though they’d been tailored for her.
Emma suddenly felt underdressed. And country. She wished she hadn’t missed her haircut last month, and that chopped-off bits and pieces didn’t continue to resist taming after her attack with the Swiss knife. She wished she’d put eye shadow on and redone her manicure. At least she’d gotten the ratty polish off.
The woman looked older than Seth, but not by that much. Maybe she was a colleague in town for a couple of days. Better than thinking she might be a girlfriend. Maybe they’d been off touring duck blinds or something. Or maybe he simply didn’t feel he owed Emma a telephone call. One dinner did not spell commitment. She was used to guys who swore they’d call and didn’t, but she hated for Seth to turn out to be one of them.
“Emma,” he said. He spoke to her, but his eyes were on Nathan. So were everyone else’s in the restaurant. It was like an old B Western. She expected him to say, “This town ain’t big enough for both of us.” Except he probably didn’t care.
He stepped aside. “This is Emma French, the new neighbor I’ve been telling you about.”
Then he turned to Emma. “This is my mother, Laila Logan.”
Emma let out her breath. “How wonderful to meet you,” she said. “This is my ex-boss, Nathan Savage. He drove up to visit. We’ve been to see Barbara’s fawns. Seth, you know you’re supposed to help us free them tomorrow?” Shut up! You’re babbling! “Please, won’t you join us? We just ordered.”
“We wouldn’t want to interrupt,” Mrs. Logan said. But she slid into the booth beside Nathan and turned a million-watt smile on him that would probably enslave him for the rest of his life.
Seth slid into the other end of the booth so that Nathan was effectively sandwiched between mother and son.
“Sorry I didn’t call to check on the babies,” Seth said. “I figured you were busy at Barbara’s and didn’t need any interruptions.”
“And I figured that if you were dead in a ditch somewhere, I’d find out sooner or later.” She studiously kept her voice low and casual. Men! Why did they think they were asserting their masculinity if they didn’t check in and keep their friends and families from worrying about them?
Velma miraculously reappeared with four jars of iced tea that no one had ordered, but apparently didn’t have to. Emma suspected she’d been peering around the edge of the kitchen waiting for the fireworks. Of course she’d know Laila Logan, but she couldn’t have a clue where Nathan fit into the picture. Emma was sitting with her back to the room and suspected that every eye in the place was once more checking them out. “I’d love to come to see your babies,” Mrs. Logan said to Emma. “Seth tells me they’re nearly ready to leave home. But if there’s any danger of getting sprayed…”
“Not yet, but any day,” Emma said. “They’re almost completely independent now. I still have to provide the food, because their hunting preserve is only as big as the kennel, but what I give them, they discover and scarf up. You’re welcome anytime. I’m working for Barbara Carew tomorrow morning, but I should be there after two in the afternoon.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Laila asked.
“I love showing off my babies. I don’t have much longer to do that. I might even run to a glass of wine.”
“Sounds wonderful, but won’t you be exhausted? I know what that clinic is like. Barbara absolutely has to hire some people and find a partner to take up some of the slack. Since her husband died, she’s been essentially trying to do everything herself and work with the rehabilitators, too. I’ve helped out a time or two at the clinic, but frankly, I don’t have the stamina.” She squeezed lemon into her tea. “I’m retired and intend to stay that way.”
Neither Laila nor Seth had given Velma an order for lunch. Again, apparently they didn’t have to.
Laila took the lead in the conversation by eliciting Nathan’s life history. Seth watched the exchange in silence. Then Laila said to Emma, “Seth’s been staying with me the last couple of days.” She pulled up the sleeve of her silk shirt to reveal a bandaged wrist. “I fell off a ladder.” She laughed and held up her unbandaged hand. “A very short ladder, but I hit the edge of the counter. I wasn’t really hurt, but I needed a couple of stitches, and some pain meds the first night. Seth decided to stay over until I was back in my right mind.”
“You shouldn’t have been on that ladder, Mom,” Seth said. “Those people at the condos are supposed to change lightbulbs.”
“They will, but not necessarily the first day you call them. I’m not totally helpless, dear. With your schedule, I certainly do not need you to come over to change a lightbulb.”
Seth glanced at Emma and shook his head. “See, she won’t wait for me to help her either. Must be genetic.”
“Emma and I don’t share genes, darling,” Laila said. “Only gender. If you want to look after us, I’m afraid you’re going to have to do it on our schedule, not when you get around to it. You and I both seem to have a sense of urgency, don’t we, Emma?”
“He’s been wonderfully helpful to me,” Emma said. “But you’re right. I hate to rely on anyone. Did he tell you about yanking me out of the azaleas?”
Velma, obviously all ears, delivered their food just then.
“I can vouch for Emma’s sense of urgency,” Nathan said. “She wants everything done, checked and rechecked well ahead of time. It’s one of the reasons I value her.” He tucked into his lunch with happy whimpering sounds.
Emma found her appetite had deser
ted her. Looking across the table at Seth, she saw he was only pushing food around on his plate.
Sounded as though Nathan was making noises to explore rehiring her. She had loved working with Nathan, but now, instead of the relief and joy she should be feeling, Emma felt a sense of loss so deep she nearly burst into tears. She wanted to stay here, but there was no real place for her. Even though this cougar was his mother, there might be a dozen other women in Seth’s life. She’d never be told. She was an outsider. Nobody would surreptitiously let her know if he was dating half the town. Velma, for one, would never say.
* * *
IN THE PARKING lot after lunch, Laila made an appointment to view the babies Thursday afternoon about four. They said their goodbyes and walked to their respective cars. “I like your Emma,” Laila said to Seth. “Charming. Seems to have her head on straight.”
“Damnation, Mom, she is not my Emma. She never will be.”
“You’re stomping,” Laila said. “Leave some gravel on the parking lot. And I wouldn’t be too sure of that. The way you avoided looking at each other was pure farce. Right out of a bad French play. I’ve never known you to pay for a lunch you barely touched.” Laila giggled.
“She never planned to stay up here. It was always a stopgap, a place to lick her wounds. That Nathan guy fired her. He obviously came up here because he wants her back. There’s nothing to hold her here.”
“There’s you.”
“Fasten your seat belt. I’ll drop you at your condo. I have to go back to work. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork to do, then Earl and I have to check some fishing licenses. Whoopee. An exciting afternoon.”
“Sarcasm does not become you. If you get down to the far end of the lake, would you go see that the cabin’s all right? I had the cleaning team in a couple of weeks ago to get ready for the summer, but I haven’t checked it out myself.”
“Sure, although I may not get that far south.” Seth parked in the visitors’ spot outside his mother’s cottage inside the complex, then went around and opened her door.
“Thank you, dear, I did teach you good manners.” She kissed him and started up the walk to her front door. Halfway there, she stopped and turned. “The two of you are obviously what we used to call ‘smitten.’ About time you sealed the deal. It’s harder to leave a lover than it is a casual beau. Remember that.” Then she was gone.
Leaving him gawking. His mother had just suggested—strongly suggested—that he take Emma to bed. That was what he wanted, too, but to hear it from his mother?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
EMMA AND SETH both rolled into Barbara’s parking lot at seven in the morning. Barbara had already hooked her stock trailer to her big truck and backed it up into the aisle of the little barn. The fawns watched from their stall, curious, apprehensive, aware that something different was happening in their lives. All six of them clustered together as though to take comfort from one another.
Barbara had spread a deep bed of hay in the trailer. “Right on time,” she told Seth and Emma.
“How on earth do we get them to go in that trailer?” Emma asked.
“The first thing you learn about deer is to be sneaky. I built this barn to make it easier. When we open the back trailer doors, they just fit in the center aisle and close it off. Seth, help me pull the doors back against the wall and brace them open. No escape route out the front of the barn.”
The rear door of the barn was closed, so no exit that way either.
“The only way out will be into the trailer.”
“Or back into their stall,” Seth said.
“You stand in there and block them,” Barbara told him.
She opened the door to their stall. “All righty, then, here we go.”
For several seconds, the deer merely stood inside as though they had no plans to leave. Then one of the young stags put a tentative hoof into the aisle. The other five followed carefully, ready to bolt.
One young doe came over to Emma and butted noses with her. So far everyone was calm.
The young stag, the obvious leader, stepped onto the ramp leading into the trailer. And backed out, snorting. He then backed into one of the does and she backed up into another doe. From one second to the next, calm collapsed into chaos. Seth kept them from running into their sanctuary. After a minute or so, they settled back to milling in the aisle. Emma took refuge behind the door of the stall across from theirs.
“Okay,” Barbara said. “Now to the old tried-and-true paper-sack loader.” She handed Emma a wadded-up paper sack tied onto the end of a long riding crop. “Whatever you do, don’t hit anybody. Just shake it behind them. It makes a racket that they hate. We want them to think the inside of that trailer is sanctuary.”
It worked. And quickly. After a couple of forays to try to go across Seth and back into their stall, they all walked straight up into the trailer. Seth and Barbara closed the doors and latched them. Once inside the dark trailer, the little deer settled immediately. The stag even began to nibble the hay at his feet.
“Let’s head out,” Barbara said. “We can all ride together. I’ll bring you back after we set them free. See? Easy.”
* * *
THE TRIP TOOK most of an hour, before they came to six bar gates heavily posted with Privacy and no-hunting signs. Emma noticed one that said, “All hunters will be stuffed and used for target practice.”
There was no sign of any building, but the land was beautiful, a perfect mixture of woods and rolling fields. Half a dozen deer grazed in lush spring grass on the edge of hardwood forests. They didn’t even lift their heads when the truck rolled by. As soon as the perimeter fence was out of sight, the land looked as it might have before the first trappers showed up in the nineteenth century.
Barbara pulled into a gravel turnaround large enough to turn the trailer without backing. “Now, we open the doors and stand behind them so we don’t get run over. We wait until the deer discover they’re free. Then we watch until they disappear into the trees, which should take about a minute. God, I love this part.”
Emma watched around the edge of the door as the little stag, the leader as usual, took one step down the ramp, then jumped to land on the grass. He peered around on full alert, perhaps to spot the trick in letting them go. A minute later, all six were taking off into the trees, the white tips on their tails marking their progress.
Another minute and they were gone.
Seth shouted, a pure rebel yell. Emma jumped up and down, and Barbara punched the air and echoed Seth’s yell.
They closed the doors to the trailer and climbed back in the truck.
“Will they be all right?” Emma asked.
“That is no longer in our hands,” Barbara said. “We’ve done our best to let them go in a safe place. Would they be all right if they’d never been raised by human beings? If they’d been left on the road beside their dead mothers? Humans are so dangerous. I hope they’re still afraid of us. I think they will be. But it’s their world, now, not mine or yours or Seth’s. Or even the man who owns this property.”
“Who is he?”
“Our good friend Mr. Anonymous. He lives in Memphis, but he’s dedicated this whole property as his own private preserve protected by a trust. It’s safe from development for a hundred years.” She put the truck in gear. “In a hundred years, who knows if there’ll be any animals at all, let alone human beings. Come on, y’all. Emma and I have patients waiting at the clinic.”
They did. A dozen clients with dogs on leashes and cats in carriers waited in the parking lot.
“Thank you, Seth,” Barbara said as he walked to his SUV.
“You really didn’t need me.”
“Yeah, but I would have if anything had gone wrong. You’re the designated rescuer.”
“Your mother’s coming by to look at my babies this afternoon,” Emma called to him. “If you ge
t off in time, you’re welcome to a glass of wine.”
“Can I have beer instead?”
“Sure.”
He nodded and drove away. Emma headed for the clinic and the madhouse she was walking into.
Would she feel the same sense of joy when she turned her babies loose?
Just so long as she didn’t dissolve in tears of grief and loss. Or have hysterics with Seth watching. Men did not deal with hysterics well.
Around the corner of the building came a flash of wings and a loud squawk. “Oh, Mabel, knock it off.” She shoved by the big Canada goose. “You’re worse than a Rottweiler.”
She still hadn’t figured out how Mabel knew the difference between staff, whom she felt free to terrorize, nonclients, ditto, and clients. She never terrorized clients. Maybe she terrorized anyone who didn’t show up with an animal or smelling of an animal. Emma would have to ask Barbara.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“THANK YOU FOR inviting me,” Mrs. Logan said. “I haven’t been in this house since Martha died, but I did help her when she redid the downstairs. The ceiling was sagging. They had to put in a steel beam to carry the weight of the house. If it was built to any sort of code, it was a hundred years out of date.” She patted the back of the old leather recliner beside the brick fireplace.
“It’s a good house,” Emma said. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit more often after I became a teenager. I got caught up in other things. Right now it’s been a godsend having someplace to get away from my family. My father’s bound and determined to find me a job whether it’s one I want or not. Red or white?”
“White, please.” Mrs. Logan accepted a glass of Chardonnay. “Fathers are like that.” She took a sip of the wine. “The older I get, the less I like really acidic wines with masses of tannins,” she said. “Merlot puckers my mouth. This is lovely.”
“Are you a connoisseur?” Emma asked. “I’m not, but I do try to listen to the guy who owns the shop in Memphis where I buy my wine. Then I get credit for being knowledgeable.”
Harlequin Superromance May 2018 Box Set Page 46
