by Marta Perry
He raised his hand in farewell to the boy, and then frowned as Nolie strolled back to him.
“Doesn’t his father ever bring Danny?”
Quick sorrow filled her expressive face. “Danny’s parents are separated. Lately it seems they quarrel about everything, including Danny’s therapy. So no, his dad doesn’t ever bring him.” She raised her hand to wave away a bee that buzzed near her face. “It’s hard on parents, having a child with as many disabilities as Danny does.”
“It’s pretty hard on the kid, too.” He couldn’t help the edge of anger in his voice. “I don’t have much use for people who can’t put their child first.”
The flash of pain in her eyes at his words startled him. Was some personal experience at work there?
He wouldn’t ask about her family. He wasn’t going to get involved, remember?
The moment passed. Nolie started taking down the portable gate and he moved to help her, taking the supports as she dismantled them.
“Thanks.”
She carried the gate toward the barn, and he followed, lugging the supports. They crossed the grass and moved from sunlight into the cool, dim interior of the barn.
It was quiet. Peaceful. There wasn’t much quiet in his life at the moment, and this felt good.
Nolie stacked the gate pieces she carried against an empty stall. He shoved his into place.
“Danny’s doing well, in spite of his parents.” Nolie glanced at him, as if measuring her words. “He’s a hard worker normally, but he worked even harder today, thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You made him feel—” She paused, searching for the words. “Well, maybe not quite so exceptional. Not so alone. Having someone else here made it almost a game for him.”
“He’s a brave little kid.” He couldn’t imagine facing the future the boy faced every day.
She smiled. “He looks up to you.”
Hero-worship, that was what she was talking about. The phrase turned the screws on him. A real hero wouldn’t still be walking around when two of his comrades were dead.
They stepped out into the sunlight again, and he raised his hand to shield his eyes. Lady and Max, chasing each other on the lawn, broke off the game to come racing over to them, jostling each other for Nolie’s attention.
She laughed and patted her shoulder, obviously an invitation to Max. The dog reared up and planted two big paws on her shoulders, and she hugged him. Her hair, touched by the sun, was almost the same gold as the dog’s fur.
“That dog’s a lover, not a fighter,” he said.
She shoved Max down gently, still smiling, and ruffled Lady’s ears. Max, apparently deciding on second-best, came to lean against Gabe’s leg and have his ears rubbed.
“Max is special. Well, they all are, I guess.”
For the first time he wondered at her attachment. “You obviously love them.”
“Well, of course.” She looked surprised.
“How do you handle parting with them?”
Her lashes swept down, hiding her eyes from him. Hiding her emotions, probably.
“It’s hard.” She patted Lady. “But that’s what success means in my business. Partnering the right animal with the right client, and saying goodbye when they’re ready to be on their own.”
“It sounds kind of lonely, when you put it like that.”
She shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to it.”
She almost sounded as if she believed that. Almost, but not quite.
They’d reached the front of the farmhouse, and he looked up at the sign that hung there. It was wooden, brightly painted, showing an ark with fanciful animals poking their noses out of doors and windows. Nolie’s Ark, it read in script around the edge.
“Very appropriate,” he commented.
She smiled, and a faint flush touched her cheeks. “I’d have put up something much more serious and formal, but my friend Claire beat me to it. She said if I had to turn this place into an ark, I might as well have a sign to match.”
“She’s a good friend.”
“Yes, she is.” The smile lingered on her lips at the thought of her friend.
Did she smile when she mentioned him in conversation? Probably not. He’d managed to turn himself into a pretty big thorn in her side in a few short days.
“Well.” She put her hand on the porch railing. “I’d like to change before I take you home, if I’m staying for supper.” She gestured toward the faded jeans she wore. “Do you mind waiting?”
The reminder of his dependence pricked. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”
She stopped on the step, turning toward him, and their faces were level. She was so close he could see the fine sheen of sunlight on her cheek, the tiny veins at her temples, the flecks of gold in her eyes. How had he ever thought her plain? He must have been out of his mind.
“I’m sorry. I know you must hate being driven.” Her smile flickered. “It’s tough to give up control, isn’t it?”
He shrugged, annoyed that she saw through him so clearly. “It won’t be for long. When I’ve gone six months without a seizure, the doc says I’ll get my license back.”
“Good.” She said it as if she meant it, but he knew better.
His hand tightened on the railing. “Is it, Nolie? If I don’t have a seizure in six months, that won’t do your grant proposal much good, will it?”
He saw by the flicker in her eyes that the shot had gone home. But she lifted her chin, looking at him steadily.
“I know you don’t believe this, but we really want the same thing. We both want you to be able to live your life as fully and richly as possible, whether that means you’re going to be doing that with a seizure-alert animal or not.”
Not. I choose not. The thought burned into his brain. The trouble was that he might not have the ability to choose.
Nolie lingered a moment longer, as if waiting for him to respond to her words. Then, with what might have been a sigh, she went into the house.
They didn’t want the same thing, no matter how much Nolie might like to believe that. He wouldn’t live his life depending on an animal to take care of him. He’d go back to the work he was destined to do. Nolie could help him, or she could be an obstacle, but he was going to do it.
Chapter Five
Nolie took the flowered plate Siobhan had just put into the dish rack and polished it with a linen tea towel. She’d practically had to strong-arm Gabe’s mother to be allowed to help with the cleaning up after dinner.
The heavy gold of Siobhan’s wedding ring hit the edge of a china plate, setting off a soft pealing, like a very small bell. Siobhan smiled, faint lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes.
“This is nice—doing the dishes together. The kids always badger me about using the dishwasher, but I like the feel of the hot soapy water. It takes me back to doing the dishes with my mother.”
Since Nolie didn’t have any such positive memories of her own mother, she couldn’t very well contribute to that subject. She’d have to say something else.
“It was nice of you to invite me to supper. I’d have been glad to drive Gabe even without the bribe of a home-cooked meal, though.”
Siobhan’s laugh was as soft and clear as that peal of ring against plate. “I’m too used to my own mob. You can get just about anything by bribing Flanagans with food.”
“I’ll remember that. Maybe I should start offering Gabe treats, the way I do the dog.”
Siobhan’s hands stilled, and she seemed to be looking through the window above the sink, across the darkening lawn toward the lights of the houses on the next street.
“I don’t want you to break any confidences, but I’d love to know how he’s doing.”
How was Gabe doing? Her memory flashed to those moments when they’d been in such complete accord in their compassion for Danny. For a brief space of time she’d imagined they were partners, joined together in a common cause.
But they weren
’t. The moment had shattered on the rock of Gabe’s inability to accept her goals for him.
She’d been quiet too long. She had to say something.
“It’s not a matter of confidentiality.” She put a plate neatly on the stack. Siobhan had a point. There was something soothing about the quiet routine and the accompanying chime of women’s voices. “I’d be delighted if I could tell you it’s going well.”
“But it’s not.”
She shook her head, trying to find the right words to express her frustration. Gabe’s father had made his opinion of her work clear, but maybe Siobhan would help, if Nolie just knew how to explain.
“Gabe holds back,” she said finally. “He doesn’t want to depend on the dog, and as long as he feels that way, it will be difficult for a bond to form. Gabe thinks it’s unnecessary. He believes he’ll never have another seizure.”
Siobhan nodded, running her hands absently along the curve of a bowl. “I pray that all the time, but that may not be God’s plan for Gabe.”
“Unfortunately, Gabe doesn’t seem able to look at any future except going back to fire fighting.”
“They’re all mad about it.” Siobhan’s hands tightened, gripping the bowl so hard her fingers turned white. “I wish—”
She stopped, as if whatever she wished were somehow disloyal.
Nolie touched Siobhan’s hand, warm from the dishwater. “You worry about them, don’t you?”
“Nonsense.”
The booming voice made both of them jump. She turned to see Gabe’s father, closely followed by Gabe. She’d been so intent on her conversation with Siobhan that she hadn’t heard their approach.
“Nonsense,” Joe said again, crossing the faded kitchen linoleum to put his arm around Siobhan’s still-slender waist and hug her close. “Siobhan’s a true firefighter’s wife. She knows we’ll all be fine. Flanagans are lucky. Look at Gabe, walking away from that accident.”
Did he really believe what he was saying? She glanced at Gabe, her heart giving a little jolt when she realized his eyes were on her. Did Gabe believe it?
“You’d better be lucky.” Siobhan patted Joe’s cheek. “I’m not about to get along without you.”
The love between them was so palpable it hit Nolie like a blow. Had her parents ever had that kind of feeling for each other? If they had, it hadn’t lasted.
Her eyes suddenly stung with tears, and she blinked them back furiously. She hadn’t cried about her parents in years. She certainly wasn’t going to let the Flanagans, with that aura they had of loving and being loved, make her remember.
She hung the tea towel on the rack. “Well, I’d better be getting back to the farm. My animals will want their supper, too. Thank you again for the delicious meal.”
“You’re welcome any time.” Siobhan surprised her with a quick hug. “In fact, why don’t you come along to church with us on Sunday and have dinner afterward? You’d enjoy hearing Brendan preach.”
“No. Thank you.” She hoped that didn’t sound too abrupt. “I already have plans for Sunday with a friend, but thanks just the same.”
“Another time, then.”
She nodded, not meaning it. Being pulled into the Flanagan family loop was difficult enough, with its reminders of all she’d never had. She wasn’t about to get dragged to a church service with them.
“I’ll walk you out to the car.”
The offer, in the low rumble of Gabe’s voice, startled her. She’d thought he’d be only too glad to be rid of her.
But he walked beside her out the back door and down the porch steps. Their footsteps were muted by the grass as they crossed the lawn to where her car was parked in front of the garage.
The spring twilight sent shadows reaching across the grass from the mature shrubs and trees. An old tire swing moved slightly in the breeze.
Permanence. The Flanagan house exuded an air of having been here always, of planning to stay forever, sheltering its people with love and security.
“It’s quiet here.” The neighborhood street wasn’t as quiet as the farm, of course, but it wasn’t as noisy as she’d have expected. The tall sentinels of yews formed a barricade along the edge of the property, lending an air of seclusion.
“Not too quiet.” Gabe nodded toward the street, and when she listened, she could hear the faint sound of children’s voices.
“They’re out late.”
Gabe glanced at his watch. “It still gets dark fairly early. They’ll all be watching for the street lights to come on. That’s the signal that it’s time to come in.”
Come in, he’d said, as if he were one of those children playing hide and seek between the houses.
“That’s what you did.”
He smiled. “Of course. Didn’t you?”
“We didn’t have street lights in the country.”
And I didn’t have the kind of childhood that seems so normal to you.
But she wouldn’t say that to him. She didn’t tell people. She didn’t want their pity making her weak.
She fumbled for her keys as they reached the car, but Gabe seemed in no hurry for her to leave. He propped one large hand against the roof of the car.
“So what was your signal to come in from playing?”
“I don’t remember.” She didn’t remember because there hadn’t been any. Because there hadn’t been any playtime.
“Come now.” He brushed a strand of hair back from her face. His knuckle grazed her cheek and set up a path of heat where it touched. “A pretty little blonde like you must have attracted every boy in the county to come and play.”
Vanity. Brother Joshua’s voice boomed in her head. That hair is an invitation to vanity for the child. And a temptation to men.
She slammed the door on the ugly voice. She wouldn’t let a dark memory destroy this moment of closeness with Gabe.
“My aunt was very strict.” That was certainly a masterpiece of understatement.
“My dad was strict, too, but there was always time to play.” His touch lingered, warming her.
“You were lucky.” The words were out before she thought about what they might betray. “I mean, you had brothers and sisters to play with, even when there weren’t other kids around.”
“The Flanagans have always been a tribe,” he said. “With Mom cheering us on and Dad telling us what to do.”
“He still does, doesn’t he?” That was an even worse slip. The warmth of his hand against her face robbed her of the ability to be even moderately tactful.
Gabe didn’t actually move, but he seemed to withdraw. “He’s our father. We all respect his opinion.”
She’d already destroyed the temporary bond between them. She may as well say the rest of what she thought. “Even when he says your mother doesn’t worry? Or that you’ll be back at work in no time?”
His face hardened, and his hand dropped away from her cheek, leaving her skin chilled where the warmth had been. “You don’t know anything about my relationship with my father. He’s expressing his faith in me.”
“You’re right. I don’t know about your relationship with him.” And she certainly didn’t have any experience of her own to guide her.
“Well, then—”
“But I know something about adjusting to disabilities. And I can see that your father won’t admit the extent of your injury because it would mean admitting his own mortality, too.”
If Gabe had put his hands on her and pushed her away, he couldn’t have rejected her words more completely. He folded his arms across his chest, maybe because otherwise he really would have pushed her away.
“Leave my family out of it. I make my own decisions about what I do.”
She was making a mess of this, but she had to try. “I can’t leave them out. Their attitude influences you. When you bring Max home with you, they’ll be involved.”
“No. They won’t.” His face was a hardened mask, shutting her out. “Because that’s not going to happen. You can play all the games you w
ant with Danny and the dogs, but it won’t change a thing. I don’t need what you’re offering.”
He really believed that. Her throat tightened until she could barely speak.
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She forced the words out. “For your sake, I hope you’re right about your needs. But I don’t think you are.”
Gabe took a step back from the car. She yanked the door open. She’d destroyed enough for one night. She’d better get out before she made things any worse.
Gabe had come to the farm still annoyed with Nolie on Monday, but by the end of the session, he’d managed to cool off. He shouldn’t have let himself get so upset by Nolie’s comments about his family. She clearly didn’t know anything about families. Maybe that aunt that she’d mentioned living with had been her only relative.
They’d been working inside the training center today, and he stood back, absently fondling Max’s ears, while Nolie talked to Danny about what they’d done. Both Danny and Lady seemed to listen with equal intensity.
He had himself in hand now, and he knew what he had to do. He’d go through with the training, because he didn’t have a choice. Three more weeks of it, and then he’d be finished. Then he’d tell Nolie goodbye, go to the captain and demand his job back.
Nolie and Danny turned to head out the door and he fell into step beside them. Nolie shot him a questioning look. He responded with a noncommittal smile. After all, there were worse ways to spend a sick leave than walking in the sunshine with a pretty woman, even if that woman was totally wrong-headed about everything.
“Good session today, Danny.” He rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder as they walked toward Danny’s mother, waiting by her car. “It was fun to work together.”
“I bet you’d have more fun if you were at the fire station with the other firefighters.”
He tried to suppress the pain that clutched him at the kid’s innocent words. Danny couldn’t know how that hurt him.
“Well, sometimes it’s fun. And some of the guys are pretty good cooks. We all have to take turns at that.”
