by Tara Meyers
Gritting her teeth, Ember forced the fire from her eyes. “Of course,” she said softly. Intentionally relaxing her arms at her sides, she managed a small grin that she hoped didn’t look like a grimace. “I apologize, Mr. Ellsworth. I’m tired, and it’s been a very long couple of days.”
Glancing at his watch, Ellsworth sighed heavily. “You’re right. It’s three thirty in the morning. We’re both understandably irritable. We should perhaps get some rest, and then I’d be happy to set aside some time this week to meet with you and discuss our current veterinary needs. Regardless of what you think, I’d like to help harden the distinction between you and Dr. Chambers.”
Her emotions made a hard swing from anger to embarrassment. One lesson Ember learned in that moment was that she first needed to work through her own feelings on the matter. The only true encounter she had with Dr. Chambers while he was a practicing vet was her senior year in high school when her horse, Celeste, fell ill.
The memory of that day came crashing down with such force that Ember closed her eyes against it, placing a hand to her forehead where a sudden headache blossomed. Normally suppressed, she found herself helpless against reliving that night.
It had been an unusually warm fall evening, and the crickets were just starting their chorus. Ember was leaning against the railing of the practice arena. Her mom led Dr. Chambers to the barn, where Ember knew poor Celeste was laying on her side, laboring to breathe. Whatever it was hit her hard and fast. The fifteen minutes or so that Ember waited felt like an eternity to the teen, and she wept while praying that the vet could save her horse.
When he finally came out, the answer was easy to read on his face. He placed a consoling hand on her shoulder and asked if she wanted to go tell Celeste goodbye. But she couldn’t do it. The thought of looking into her best friend’s big brown eyes one last time was too much. She cursed him and his inability to help her, before running into the woods. She came to understand that it wasn’t his fault, of course, but she’d never forgiven herself for abandoning Celeste that night. She should have been there.
As her thoughts rushed back to the present, the anxiety she’d barely held at bay for the past month flourished with the intense emotions brought to the surface of her consciousness. Her breathing became ragged. Her mouth suddenly dry, she licked her lips before turning blindly toward where she thought she’d left her bag. She had to get out of there. But the movement induced a wave of dizziness, and she suddenly found herself down on one knee, the edges of her vision darkening.
TWELVE
The episode passed as quickly as it came, leaving Ember flustered and eager to convince Morton Ellsworth that she was okay. However, the stable owner insisted that he help her inside to his den, where he got her a glass of water. They both decided that some coffee would be a good idea before she attempted the fifteen-minute drive home on the dark winding road.
Sitting alone in the rich, mahogany-filled room, Ember sipped at the water and steadied herself. While Mr. Ellsworth was content with the explanation that she was physically exhausted from the big move over the past week and the late hour, Ember knew it went deeper than that. She wasn’t eating enough, getting enough sleep, and was completely drained emotionally. She hadn’t allowed herself time to heal from her mother’s death, and it was bringing up old emotions.
Closing her eyes to ward off the onslaught she was afraid might follow, she was relieved when it didn’t occur. Acknowledging her true emotions appeared to have taken the edge off.
Determined to take care of herself, Ember decided to take a day off from the clinic. It was Sunday, and by the time she got home and slept for a few hours, half the day would be gone anyway. Maybe she’d even go hiking. Now that she knew Mel would be helping her that next week, she didn’t have any fear of not being ready for her grand opening the following Monday. Saturday was the Fourth of July and the centennial parade. She vowed to make the most of it.
Feeling much better, Ember set her glass down and tried out her legs. When she stood without any new dizziness, she began to pace around the outer edge of the sizeable den, studying the various pictures, sculptures, and knickknacks on display.
Pausing in front of what looked like an original Frederic Remington bronze statue of a cowboy on a bucking horse, Ember looked above it at a framed photo. In it was an adult version of Sandy, Morton Ellsworth’s daughter. She figured it was at least five years old, since she didn’t look much over twenty. Sandy was proudly posing next to a huge set of elk antlers, one hand resting on the impressive rack, the other holding a compound bow. Mounted above the photo was what Ember assumed was the same antlers. It had a plaque attached to it that read: Sandy Ellsworth, First Place Finish, Washington Apple Compound Bow Competition, 2012.
“Huh,” Ember muttered, moving on to the next picture. It was similar to the first, but Sandy looked in her teens.
Just then, a set of headlights moved across the only window in the den, followed by the slam of a car door before it drove away. Feeling unreasonably guilty for her snooping, Ember moved back to her spot in the leather chair before whoever it was came inside.
Moments later, there was a noise at the front door. Several thumps and a giggle preceded the padding of shoeless feet coming toward the den. Ember waited.
Sure enough, Sandy finally stumbled past the arched entrance before stopping and taking an unsteady step backwards. Standing in the hallway with her purse in one hand and heels clasped in the other, she stood staring at Ember for several heartbeats.
As recognition slowly spread across her pretty, delicate features, she started pointing at Ember, causing the purse to fall to the floor. Ignoring it, she kept wagging a finger while trying to form the words she wanted to speak.
“I know youuu,” she finally slurred. Pulling a band from her hair, she freed it, allowing the long blonde locks to cascade across her shoulders. “I know you,” she repeated. “How do I know you?”
Sandy was obviously intoxicated and trying to sneak into the house like a teenager. Ember did her best to stifle a laugh. “I’m Ember.”
Sandy continued to stare.
Ember sighed, bracing herself for the expected reaction. “Ember Burns.”
“Oh!” Sandy gasped, clapping her hands together. “Yes! I remember now. Ember Burns so bright!”
Stopping herself from lashing out at the second Ellsworth that day, Ember only smiled. “Yup! That was one of the many endearing taunts I got to endure during my school career.”
Missing the not-so-subtle innuendo, Sandy pointed again and leaned against the frame of the entryway, almost falling. “What are you doing here? My dad likes ’em young, but you’re pushing it.”
Blushing, Ember sat a bit straighter in the chair. “I’m a vet. I was called out for a foaling mare that was having a problem.”
The other woman’s features were transformed by concern, and she pushed herself back to a standing position. “The Queen’s Hand?” Sandy blurted. “Is she okay?”
“She’s going to be fine. The foal has a good chance of making it, too. It was a reverse presentation, but I … we were able to get him out.”
Wiping a hand across her mouth, Sandy walked haltingly across the room to her father’s large wooden desk. After pouring amber liquid from a glass decanter, she took a swig before turning back to Ember.
“Thank God. That would’ve been devastating if we’d lost The Queen. The mare’s owner is our highest paying boarder. I don’t know if the ranch would have survived that.”
“I’m glad to have helped,” Ember replied, picking the glass of water back up. While the stables certainly gave the impression of riches and success, it appeared that was not really the case.
“I’ve done a lot to stabilize things since taking over the finances,” Sandy continued. “I don’t know how Father survived the whole horse-killer fiasco, but things are still … delicate. Dad may be the best rancher in the state, but he’s a horrible businessman. Although I keep insisting he overpays h
is staff, he refuses to listen to me. You’d think his farrier was using gold horseshoes!”
Ember felt that she should tell the intoxicated woman to stop talking, that she wasn’t a personal friend of her fathers and shouldn’t be hearing their private matters, but she had no clue how to go about it. Thankfully, Ellsworth chose that moment to return with a tray holding mugs and a fresh pot of coffee.
“Sandy!” he said, clearly surprised by her arrival. “I hope we didn’t wake you.”
Sandy set the glass down on his desk while shifting the hand holding her shoes behind her back. “No. I was just on my way up to bed, but I stopped to talk with your new vet. Ember and I knew each other in school, didn’t we?” she asked, looking to Ember for confirmation.
“Yes, but Sandy was a couple of years ahead of me.”
As Ellsworth crossed the room and set the tray down, he took in his daughter’s clothing and appearance. His face clouding, he purposefully pushed the glass container of alcohol out of reach.
“Well, Sandy, if you were on your way to bed, don’t let us keep you. It’s awfully late.”
Without responding, Sandy gave a nervous grin before brushing past her father. Ignoring Ember, she picked up her purse from the floor and left the room.
“I’m afraid I have to apologize for my daughter,” Ellsworth stated, pouring a steaming cup of coffee and handing it to Ember. “She works hard and doesn’t go out often. But when she does, it’s usually to excess.”
“No apologies needed,” Ember rushed to say. The warm cup felt good in her hands, and as she took a sip, she hoped it wouldn’t keep her up the rest of the night.
“She just returned home earlier this year, after going back to school and completing her business degree.” Sitting down in an identical chair across from Ember, Ellsworth leaned back and crossed one leg on top of the other. “She’s been a huge help to me.”
After several minutes of polite conversation, Ember declined a second cup of coffee and excused herself. It was four in the morning, and she still needed to try to get some sleep.
“I’ll call early this week to set up that meeting,” Mr. Ellsworth promised as he walked her back out to the stalls to gather her belongings.
“That sounds good,” she said sincerely, shaking his offered hand.
Walking away, Ember had mixed feelings about the whole encounter. While on the surface Morton Ellsworth and his stables looked nice and shiny, she had a suspicion that there were several darker layers underneath.
THIRTEEN
Ember woke at noon on Sunday to Daenerys licking her face. Convinced it couldn’t be any later than eight in the morning, she rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. Undeterred, the labradoodle sat on her back.
“Daenerys!” The scolding came out as a muffled yelp that only further excited the dog. Her bladder unable to handle the pressure, Ember dragged herself out from under her friend and sat on the edge of the bed, blinking against the sunlight pouring in through the window.
Glancing down at her phone on the side table, she gasped. “Oh my gosh! Your bladder is probably about to explode, too. Come on!”
Feeling thrown off by the amount of time that had passed, and guilty about yelling at Daenerys, Ember grabbed a dog treat on her way to the front door. “Here. Take this with you,” she offered.
Daenerys smiled her doggy smile before gently taking the peace offering, and then she leapt through the front door and down the front steps. Running in circles like she’d been born and raised there, she then busied herself with sniffing multiple prime locations before finally relieving herself.
Ember laughed at the dog’s antics and looked out beyond the driveway at Crystal Lake. It sparkled in the afternoon light, beckoning to her. Having already decided to skip the clinic that day, she contemplated their options.
No doubt, Daenerys would enjoy the water, but since it was so close, they could visit it whenever they wanted. Getting to Ember’s favorite hiking trail, on the other hand, involved a twenty-minute drive east, into the mountains. She could make the hike itself as long or as short as she wanted, but she’d need to stop at the ranger station on the way to get a Northwest Forest Pass for parking at the trailhead. The federal parks should be open, even though it was a Sunday, since it was the peak of the camping season.
Deciding to go with the hike, she was tempted to grab her stuff and pick up a coffee on the way, but Ember forced herself to slow down and remember the resolution she’d made just eight hours earlier. Calling to Daenerys, she then went about making a large breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast.
While eating that, she made and packed a large lunch to take on the hike, in addition to extra water and dog food for Daenerys. Digging around in the bag of goodies from Becky, she found a nice harness and leash. Dogs were allowed on the national forest trails, but they had to be leashed.
Tracking down her day hiking backpack was a separate issue, and she finally found it still in the trunk of her car in the garage. By the time everything was loaded in the truck, it was past one o’clock.
“We’re fine,” she assured Daenerys. “Still plenty of time. It won’t be dark until around nine.”
After shoving the pack behind the bench seat, she tugged one more time at the laces of her hiking shoes before climbing in next to the dog in the cab.
Following her road back to the head of the lake, she then turned onto a two-way highway that looped around the other side. It took them past the Ellsworth stables and up the increasingly steep terrain, the woods rapidly closing in and replacing the open fields.
It wasn’t very far to the nearest federal park entrance. There was a small convenience store, restaurant, and ranger station that serviced the many campgrounds scattered for miles into the mountains. As Ember expected, it was a busy place. Not only was it summer, but it was also the weekend before the Fourth of July, the busiest time for campers.
“You get to stay here,” she said to Daenerys. “I won’t be long.”
Outside the small office, positioned in between it and the restaurant, was an ice cream stand. Several kids and just as many adults were vying for a spot in line, and Ember was tempted to join them. But she could feel the time slipping away, so she headed inside the dim headquarters instead, a small bell announcing her arrival.
A young girl who couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty was surrounded at a table by a large group of people decked out in brand-new hiking apparel. She had a map spread out and was attempting to explain something to them. By the looks on all of their faces, it didn’t appear to be going well.
At the main counter, a middle-aged man and woman were engaged in some sort of disagreement with a parks employee.
“We have a reservation!” the woman wailed, slapping a hand down on the chest-high work surface. The man with her looked embarrassed but made no move to stop the display. “But our spot was occupied! We’ve got a carload of kids expecting to go camping, and I’m not about to go out there and tell them it’s ruined because of your incompetence!”
The woman shifted her weight, giving Ember a peek at the man on the other end of the attack. He looked to be in his early thirties. He was standing across from the unhappy camper with his muscular arms folded across an expansive chest. Though most women might call him ruggedly handsome, Ember found his distinctive Native American features more intriguing than anything. He also looked thoroughly bored.
“Do you have your reservation number?”
“What?” the lady barked back.
“Your reservation number,” the parks employee repeated evenly. “If you made a reservation, you would have been given a number, so as to avoid this type of conflict. Also, the campground you’re referring to doesn’t allow advance reservations. It’s all on a first-come, first-serve basis. If you can show me your number, I can look it up and make sure you get to the right campground. Ma’am.”
Ember stifled a laugh at the clever way he turned the situation around. He glanced up then, taking no
te that she was watching, but instead of looking annoyed, he gave her a small coy smile.
“Are you calling me a liar?” the lady blurted. Looking over at her husband, she placed her hands on her hips. “I think he’s calling me a liar, Brad.”
“Well, do you have the number?” Brad asked, finally growing a backbone. “All those places look the same and have crazy names. Maybe we were looking in the wrong one.”
The woman guffawed but dug into her purse without saying anything further. Pulling out a piece of wadded-up paper, she then shoved it across the counter. The man took it and, after slowly pressing out the creases, tapped some keys on a computer hidden from view below the workspace. His face unreadable, he turned around and looked through a conglomerate of brochures in a rack on the wall. He came back with one and handed it to the woman.
“Here. This is the campground where you actually need to be looking. It’s about ten miles in the opposite direction. Have fun, and please be sure to leave your camping spot cleaner than you found it.”
A clear dismissal, the couple left without offering an apology, crowding past Ember and already talking about getting ice cream before they left.
“Busy day?” Ember asked, stepping forward.
“Just another day in paradise,” the man quipped. “Where we save lives one-camper-at-a-time.” He tapped a pencil against the counter with each word. “What emergency can I assist you with? Only, please don’t tell me I’ve ruined your life too.”
Laughing, Ember was impressed with his ability to bounce back so fast from the unpleasant encounter. “Nope! I’m easy. All I need is a Forestry Pass.”
“Thank God,” he breathed, pushing back from the counter. “That I am happy to help you with. I stopped by to give these guys a lunch break, and I somehow got roped into dealing with the rudest people of the day.”
