Hill Country Reunion

by Myra Johnson

  Brooke passed the phone to their father, and for the next few minutes Tripp did his best to keep his tone light and his words encouraging. He could tell Dad was struggling equally hard to stay positive.

  By the time the call ended, a stomach cramp warned Tripp he was on the edge of a flare-up. Usually he achieved the quickest stress reduction from focused breathing while meditating on Scripture. The verse he turned to most often came from 2 Corinthians 12, the Lord’s words to Paul: “My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”

  Tonight, though, God’s grace seemed beyond reach. “Why, God?” he shouted to the empty room. “If not for this stupid disease, my mom would have one of my kidneys and her health back, Diana and I would be happily married, and You and I would be having an entirely different conversation.”

  Silence answered him. He collapsed into the chair, pressed his hands to his stomach, and tried to deep-breathe the cramp into submission.

  Diana. He’d promised to let her know after he heard from Brooke.

  All at once, the idea of hearing Diana’s voice again seemed the only answer to his misery. He picked up his cell phone, thankful he’d had the foresight to copy her personal number from the clinic files into his contact list. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, and extremely presumptuous, since at the time he hadn’t envisioned she’d ever welcome a call from him except concerning veterinary business.

  She answered almost before the first ring. “Tripp?”

  “You must have had your thumb on the answer button.”

  “Practically. I was sitting here watching the late news and hoping you’d call.” Her concern warmed him briefly, until he reminded himself she only wanted to know about his mother. “What’s the latest?”

  He opened his mouth to tell her, but the words stuck in his throat.

  “Tripp, are you there?”

  “Yeah, sorry,” he choked out. “Mom’s past the crisis.” This time.

  Diana released a relieved sigh. “Are you planning to fly out there?”

  “No, not right away.” He explained Brooke’s reasoning and mentioned his Thanksgiving holiday plans. “In the meantime, it looks like all we can do is wait.”

  “And pray,” Diana said softly. “Never discount the power of prayer.”

  Massaging his forehead, he muttered, “I’m, uh, having a little trouble in the prayer department these days.”

  “Oh, Tripp, I understand. I know how hard it can be when God...” The empathy in her tone shifted toward regret. “Well, when He doesn’t let things turn out like we hope.”

  A swallow jammed his throat closed. “Diana—”

  “The point is to keep praying,” she rushed on, “even when it seems like God isn’t listening. We have to believe He cares, or nothing in life would make sense.”

  Little in Tripp’s life did at the moment, but he kept the thought to himself. “Maybe you’d say a few prayers for my mom?”

  “Of course. I’ll pray for all of you.”

  “Thanks.” The pain in Tripp’s abdomen had eased slightly. “It’s late. I should let you go.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  He wondered what she’d say if he said no. But the one thing he didn’t want from her—had never wanted from her—was pity. “Just talking to you has helped a lot.”

  “I’m glad,” she said, a smile returning to her voice. “Anyway, things are bound to look brighter in the morning. A good night’s sleep always makes a difference.”

  After saying goodbye, Tripp washed down his evening meds with a glass of almond milk and hoped Diana was right about a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, he didn’t foresee the likelihood.

  Chapter Five

  On Monday morning, while Kimberly kept the bakery case replenished with fresh doughnuts and other goodies, Diana brewed coffee and filled orders...and glanced at the clock about every five minutes.

  “Expecting a visit from the queen?” Grinning, Kimberly set a tray of muffins in the display case.

  “What— Ow!” Diana shook off the hot coffee she’d just dribbled on her hand. Trying to take care of a customer while checking the time and responding to her nosy assistant was a recipe for trouble.

  Kimberly handed Diana a paper towel. “Seriously, you’ve been preoccupied all morning. What gives?”

  “Didn’t get much sleep last night.” With a noncommittal shrug, Diana set two to-go coffee cups, sugar and creamer packets, and two blueberry scones in a cardboard tray. “Here you go, Kelly.”

  Kelly Nesbit, the nurse from the pharmacy’s urgent care clinic, slid her debit card into the chip reader. “Too much going on? I heard you’re starting up a therapy pets group.”

  “That’s definitely been on my mind.”

  “Among other things,” Kimberly muttered with a smirk.

  Diana shot her assistant a get-lost glare.

  “Try lavender essential oil on your pillow,” Kelly suggested. “A couple of drops work wonders when you can’t relax.”

  “Thanks, I’ll remember that.” Diana tucked Kelly’s receipt and some napkins onto the tray.

  “And keep me posted about your group. I’ve got a sweet rescue dog I think would make a great therapy pet.”

  Diana perked up. While waiting to hear from Tripp last night, she’d finished designing and printing out copies of her informational flyer. She’d placed a few on the counter and handed one to Kelly. “I’m working with Visiting Pet Pals. This explains some of their requirements. My cell number’s at the bottom, so give me a call if you’d like to get involved.”

  “I will.” Giving a nod, Kelly added the flyer to her coffee tray, then hurried out.

  With another glance at the time, Diana stifled a groan. Still an hour and twenty minutes before she was supposed to meet Tripp for lunch. As distraught as he’d been yesterday, would he even remember their plans, much less that he’d promised to make inquiries about dog trainers? She considered calling him at the clinic with a friendly reminder but quickly trashed the thought. As much as the therapy pets project meant to her, it was nothing compared to what Tripp’s family was going through.

  Business slowed again as folks returned to their offices and shops. While Diana tidied the coffee service area, Kimberly consolidated the remaining doughnuts and pastries at the front of the display case.

  Finishing, Kimberly peeled off her food prep gloves and dropped them in the trash. She gave Diana’s shoulder a friendly poke. “Take off, why don’t you? I can tell you’re chomping at the bit to get out of here.”

  Diana grimaced. It was past eleven thirty now. She could brood just as easily sitting outside the supermarket deli as she could finding busywork at the doughnut shop—and she wouldn’t have to fend off Kimberly’s prying questions. She slipped out of her apron. “Thanks, I do have some...errands to run.”

  Kimberly winked. “If you happen to run into Doc Willoughby, give him my regards.”

  With a disbelieving glance toward the ceiling, Diana hung up her apron and marched to the office to grab her purse.

  By noon she’d ordered an iced green tea and carried it to one of the umbrella-shaded tables outside the deli. From there, she had a good view of both the parking lot and the supermarket entrance. She also laid her cell phone on the table in case Tripp called or texted.

  Then, annoyed with herself, she jammed the phone back into her purse and shifted her chair sideways. What had gotten into her, letting herself get so keyed up about seeing Tripp again? There was nothing between them, and this wasn’t a date. Why should she—

  Her cell phone chimed. She dove for her purse. Reading Tripp’s name on the phone’s display screen, she took a deep breath before answering. “Hi. Are you on your way?”

  “I’m stuck at the clinic,” Tripp said. “Last-minute appointment. Afraid I can’t make it for lunch, aft
er all.”

  “Oh.” Diana clamped her teeth together to stifle an unexpected wave of disappointment. “Okay, then. Guess we’ll talk later.”

  “Sure. But I wanted to tell you I did get hold of a dog trainer this morning.”

  “That’s great. Thank you.” Gazing across the parking lot, Diana sighed. “I...I figured the therapy pets thing might be the furthest thing from your mind this morning.”

  Tripp uttered a weak chuckle. “Actually, it’s helping to keep my mind off other things—which I really need right now.”

  “Then I’m glad to be of assistance.” Diana reached into her purse for a pen and a scrap of paper. “If you have the dog trainer’s number...”

  “Actually, I wondered if you’d be free later this afternoon. I thought we could drive over to the pet shop where he works in Fredericksburg and meet with him in person.”

  “You really don’t have to do that, Tripp. I can take it from here.”

  “You’d be doing me a favor if you let me tag along.” His tone softened. “Like I said, I need the distraction.”

  How could she refuse? After a quick review of her schedule, Diana agreed, and Tripp offered to pick her up at the doughnut shop around three thirty. They said goodbye, and Diana returned to the deli to pick up a salad to go—although the thought of lunching alone at her desk evoked an empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that was far more disconcerting than hunger pangs.

  About time you admitted it, she told herself. You were actually looking forward to having lunch with Tripp.

  Well, she’d have her chance to spend time with him later when they drove to Fredericksburg. Except she’d better keep her priorities straight and remember this outing was strictly business.

  Back at work, though, she found herself doing too much clock watching. At three twenty, she turned the shop over to Kimberly and stepped out the front door to wait for Tripp.

  He’d just driven up. Climbing into the passenger seat of his SUV, she said, “You’re early.”

  “So are you,” he answered with a grin. “Ready to head over to the pet shop?”

  “Let’s go.” Diana buckled her seat belt and slid on the cheap new pair of sunglasses she’d bought after the horseback riding fiasco. “By the way, I brought some flyers for you to take back to the clinic—that is, if it’s still okay.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Tripp fell silent as he headed toward the highway, and Diana was having trouble coming up with scintillating travel conversation.

  Then Tripp broke the silence with a long sigh. “I just wanted to say... I mean, if I got a little emotional last night...”

  Diana glanced over, noting the embarrassed twist to his lips. “You had every right,” she said. “I can’t even imagine how worried you must be.”

  “Still, I shouldn’t have burdened you with my problems.”

  Annoyance tightened Diana’s chest. This was Tripp being Tripp, so why should she be surprised? “It’s no burden. That’s what friends are for.”

  He met her gaze with an uncertain smile before returning his attention to the road. “You’re right. Thanks.”

  A few minutes later, they arrived at the pet store. Tripp asked one of the clerks to page Sean, and shortly a shaggy-haired young man in a blue T-shirt came up and introduced himself.

  “Hi, Sean. Tripp Willoughby. We spoke on the phone this morning.” Tripp offered a handshake.

  “Oh, yeah, about the obedience classes for the therapy pets thing.” With a polite smile in Diana’s direction, Sean addressed Tripp. “Ready to set up a schedule?”

  Diana tamped down a pang of irritation. She stepped forward and extended her own hand. “I’m still recruiting my volunteers,” she stated. “I just need some information I can give them about your availability, fees and such.”

  Sean tugged on the ends of a leather leash dangling from his neck. Clearly getting the message that this was Diana’s project, he motioned her toward some offices at the far end of the checkout counters. Tripp seemed to have grasped the point, too, letting Diana lead the way.

  Squeezing between a cluttered desk and a tall filing cabinet, Sean shuffled through a drawer and brought out a trifold brochure. “This describes what my four-week basic obedience classes cover. Unless your volunteers want to join one of our nightly classes here at the store, my only availability for off-site training would be Sunday afternoons. You’d just need to arrange for a facility.”

  Diana nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll work on that. Can you tentatively put us on your calendar for the next four Sundays? This all needs to be completed by the first week of November.”

  “Dr. Willoughby mentioned that.” Sean flipped pages in a desk planner and began marking off Sunday afternoons. “Okay, just let me know in the next few days if this is a go.”

  With sign-up instructions and several of Sean’s brochures in hand, Tripp and Diana left the pet store. They hadn’t traveled far before Diana’s initial optimism faded. “None of this matters if I can’t come up with enough dog owners to participate.”

  Tripp reached across the console to gently touch her hand. “You’re not getting discouraged, are you?”

  Her first instinct was to pull away, but she realized she didn’t want to. She’d forgotten how nice it felt when she and Tripp used to hold hands.

  Or maybe she hadn’t forgotten at all. As if with a will of their own, her fingers entwined with his. She blinked rapidly, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of his manly, sun-bronzed hand wrapped so tenderly around her much smaller, paler one.

  Tripp slid his hand free and grasped the steering wheel. He cleared his throat roughly. “I mean...it’s a worthy cause. Once your recruitment flyers start circulating, you shouldn’t have any trouble lining up volunteers.”

  “I—I hope you’re right.” Tucking the hand he’d touched firmly into her lap, Diana sat straighter. She’d overreacted, clearly. Tripp had only meant to reassure her, and now they were both fighting embarrassment.

  To ease the tension, Diana mentioned how the flyers she’d given out this morning at the doughnut shop had already garnered interest. Besides Kelly, three other customers had said they might be calling for more information.

  “There you go,” Tripp said, as if her success were a foregone conclusion. “You’ll have the minimum number of sign-ups in no time.”

  With a shaky smile, Diana turned toward the window. She appreciated Tripp’s help and encouragement, but to work this closely with him? She wasn’t so sure her heart could withstand the emotional chaos.

  * * *

  Tripp returned Diana to her car behind the doughnut shop, then headed out to his cabin. But all that evening, he couldn’t get his mind off the way her hand had felt in his. The moment had seemed so natural, so right.

  But also very, very wrong. Much as his heart was urging him to pick up where they’d left off all those years ago, he couldn’t rush this. They both needed time to adjust to the “new normal” of being near each other again.

  Finishing his first appointment the next morning, he escorted Vince Mussell and his overgrown mutt out to the reception desk. “Darby’s vaccines are good for three years,” Tripp explained. “Yolanda will give you his new rabies tag, and I’ll call in a couple of days with the heartworm test results.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” Vince stroked the dog’s big, brown head. “This boy may not be so pretty to look at, but he’s a cuddler. He means the world to Janice and me.”

  “He is a sweetheart.” Best guess, Darby was part Labrador, with maybe some shepherd and bloodhound mixed in. “Say, would you and your wife consider volunteering with Darby as a therapy pet? He looks like a good candidate.”

  Vince’s forehead creased. “Therapy pet? What exactly is that?”

  Tripp handed Vince one of Diana’s flyers. “This will explain. Do you know Diana Matthews?”
<
br />   “Oh, sure, from the doughnut shop. Sweet girl.” A thoughtful frown twisting his lips, Vince perused the flyer. “Hmm, I’ll show this to Janice. Looks interesting.”

  Before the day ended, Tripp had handed out flyers to the owners of every canine patient he’d seen that looked even halfway suitable for Diana’s program. He couldn’t completely rule out a dog that exhibited extreme nervousness at a veterinary appointment, because the animal might be perfectly fine in less stressful social situations. It would be up to the therapy pets evaluator to make the final decision.

  Would it be too soon to let Diana know about the positive responses? He could wait and call after he got back to the cabin, or he could casually drop in at the doughnut shop, using the excuse that he’d like to replenish his supply of the flyers.

  The longing to see Diana again, even if only as a friend, won out. Leaving the clinic, he headed into town and parked in front of the doughnut shop, only to be reminded it closed at four. The disappointment forcing the air from his lungs seemed way out of proportion, but he couldn’t help himself.

  He’d just about accepted the inevitability of not seeing Diana again until tomorrow when his cell phone rang. Diana’s name on the display kicked his pulse into high gear. The sensible part of his brain shouted at him to get his eagerness under control before he answered, but he ignored it. “Diana, hi. I was just thinking about—”

  “Tripp, I need help.” The panic in her voice hit him like a bucket of ice water. “It’s my cat Tiger. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

  Professionalism taking over, Tripp tightened his grip on the phone. “What are the symptoms?”

  “Retching, coughing, wheezing and he acts like his stomach hurts.” Diana gave a shaky sniff. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but the clinic number went to the answering service and I was too scared to wait for a callback.”

  “It’s okay. I’m still in town, and I can head straight back to the clinic. Can you meet me there with Tiger?”

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Don’t rush. Better to be safe—” Too late. The line went dead.