by Hope Ramsay
That got a reaction. The mask he’d been wearing slipped, and anger flared in his eyes. “Look, lady, I came in here for vet services. I know precisely how sad Rainbow feels. And I’ll bet you a thousand dollars that you have no clue. I’m sure you had a nice, middle-class upbringing and never once worried about whether you’d go hungry. I’m sure you didn’t have a parent with a drug problem. I’m sure you got your clothes new, instead of from the Salvation Army. But Rainbow and I have both known that kind of thing. And I’m here precisely because I want her to have a better life. So butt out, okay? Just give us what we need for the damn cat and we’ll be out of here.”
CHAPTER
2
Once Tigger and her unsettling owners had departed, Charlene hung up her lab coat, snatched her purse from the hook behind her office door, and headed toward the reception area and the exit. She needed to hustle her bustle or she’d be late for the executive board meeting of the Allenberg Animal Rescue Coalition. They would be discussing the fund-raiser scheduled for June fourteenth—a bachelor auction at the VFW hall in Allenberg.
Even running late, Charlene took a moment to poke her head into Dr. David Underhill’s office. He sat at his desk reading the most recent issue of the Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Association, his head propped up on his fist, his dark hair falling ever so perfectly across his high forehead. If you looked up “tall, dark, and handsome” on Wikipedia, there would be a photo of Dr. Dave. He had a square jaw, a set of amazing dimples, white, perfect teeth, bright blue eyes, and a body to die for, which he honed to perfection at the Allenberg YMCA gym.
Charlene knew this because she also belonged to the Y. In her case, however, there was no honing involved. Charlene needed to drop about fifteen pounds so she would fit into the maid of honor dress for her best friend’s wedding, scheduled for August sixteenth. Of course, her gym membership also afforded her the opportunity to watch Dr. Dave pump iron while she strolled on the treadmill.
To say that she had a crush on Dr. Dave was to understate the point. Her feelings verged on a deep, dark obsession. He was as handsome as Prince Charming. He was kind to small animals and children. He was smart. And he was… her boss. Which made him untouchable.
A year ago, he’d arrived in town from Charlotte, North Carolina, and bought the practice from old Doc Matthews. Doc had given Charlene the job as assistant vet a few years ago, right after she’d graduated from vet school. She loved old Doc, but he had never quite trusted her with the large-animal practice. Dave’s arrival changed everything. Dave had no desire to go tramping through barns and stables. He felt way more comfortable in the surgical suite.
And Charlene loved horses. And cows, and sheep, and alpacas. If they had hooves, Charlene had a weakness for them. So when it came to caring for Allenberg’s animals, Charlene and Dave were a great team. But Dave still signed her paychecks.
So throwing herself at him, or sneaking off with him to a no-tell motel, or otherwise indulging her fantasies by ripping off her clothes in his glorious presence was so not going to happen.
Besides, it always got messy where her hormones and heart were concerned. She had been in and out of so many relationships that she’d lost count. All in all, making a play for the boss would be stupid. But that didn’t mean she had to keep her distance. After all, Dr. Dave was like poetry in motion. So she found reasons to talk to him, just so she could bask in the light of his male beauty, not to mention his adorableness.
“Hey, I’m off to the AARC meeting,” she said. She couldn’t help herself; she batted her eyes at him and leaned into the doorway. Maybe he’d notice how all that gym time had reduced her waistline by an inch.
He looked up. He gave her his dreamy smile. His blue eyes lit up, and Charlene knew a moment of hope. “Say hey to Angel and Wilma and the rest of the crowd.” He looked back down at the medical journal. He had not noticed the slightly revealing neckline of her sweater. He had not noticed that her upper arms were beginning to shrink. He had not, in fact, noticed her at all, except in the most professional and vaguely friendly way.
“Will do,” she said, trying hard not to show her disappointment in her voice.
On some level, Charlene knew Dave couldn’t be Mr. Right. But she had reached the desperate spinster phase in her life. She was older than thirty, lived in a tiny town, and Mr. Right had passed her by. She wanted a family and kids. And she had to admit that Dr. Dave would make beautiful babies. The kind of babies Mother and Daddy would cherish and appreciate.
Charlene reluctantly left Dave’s doorway and headed down the hall and into the reception area where Cindy was finishing up her paperwork for the day. “What did you think about the last appointment—the walk-in?” Charlene asked.
Cindy had a talent for reading people, even if she had an appalling weakness for concrete yard art. Dave pretended to love the sculptures Cindy brought back from every trip she and her husband, Earl, took in their camper. Dave’s tolerance for the statues made Charlene adore him even more.
“The little girl was pitiful,” Cindy said, bringing Charlene back to the worry at hand. “I hope the cat’s okay. Because I never saw a child cry like that without making a sound.”
“The cat’s going to be fine. But I felt the same way about the girl.”
“You don’t think that guy with her was…”
“I don’t know. He told me Reverend Lake is his brother. And he said the girl’s momma was killed ten days ago. He’s brought that little girl here with the intention of leaving her with Pastor Tim. But the preacher doesn’t even know he’s coming. You’re a Methodist, Cindy. Have you heard anything about the preacher having a half-brother or a long-lost niece?”
“No. I thought he was alone in the world. I heard his mother died of breast cancer, and his daddy died of a stroke or something. Not too long ago. I clearly remember him saying that he was an only child. He and I had a whole conversation about how lonely it was not to have a brother or sister. Did that guy really say he was the preacher’s brother?”
“He did.”
“Oh, my. I need to call Elsie right away.” Cindy picked up the phone and started punching numbers.
Before tomorrow morning, every blessed member of the Methodist Altar Guild would know all about the stranger in town who claimed to be Pastor Tim’s brother. Charlene prayed that the town’s busybodies would use that information to make sure little Rainbow got what she needed.
Charlene had great faith in the church ladies of Last Chance. They were, for the most part, angels of mercy.
With its soaring steeple, red brick facade, and Doric columns, the First Methodist Church looked as if it came from right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It was as far away from the streets of Chicago as a person could get. And that made it perfect.
Mike helped Rainbow and Tigger out of the car. He decided against telling Rainbow that there were probably rules against taking a cat into a church. Mike didn’t want any tantrums from either of them. So he held his tongue when Rainbow draped Tigger over her shoulders as if the cat were an old-fashioned fox fur.
Once the cat settled, Mike took Rainbow’s hand, and they walked up to the big oak doors, which were open even at six o’clock on a Tuesday evening.
The churchy smell of the place—one part brass polish and one part old hymnal books—overwhelmed him the moment he entered the vestibule. He didn’t like churches or the hypocrites who visited them on a regular basis. Good Christians tended to look down their noses at sinners like him. And that probably explained why he could count the number of minutes he’d spent inside a church on one hand.
But just because he hated churchy people didn’t mean they didn’t have something to give Rainbow. Maybe the church folks could save Rainbow from making the bad choices everyone in her family had made, except maybe Timmy and his father.
The foyer opened onto the sanctuary on the left. He peeked in. It could have been any Protestant church in any American town, with its whitewashed walls, oak pews,
and brass cross. Rainbow would thrive here.
He turned away from the sanctuary. On the right, a long hallway with doors on either side extended to the back of the building. These had to be Sunday school classrooms, but even on a Tuesday, the sound of children’s voices carried from the opposite end of the hallway.
He gave Rainbow’s hand a reassuring squeeze and followed the sounds to an active and noisy day-care center that occupied several rooms at the back of the hall. Parents streamed through a back door that led to the church’s parking lot, and it appeared to be pickup time. A lot of hugging and kissing was happening.
Rainbow tugged on Mike’s hand. He looked down at her and wished she could talk. Watching parents pick up their kids must be breaking her heart. Did Rainbow even understand that Angie was never coming back? Maybe not. She was just barely five years old.
Tigger seemed excited by all the noise and activity, and she expressed her opinion with a couple of loud meows. A brown-haired young woman with a baby on her hip turned around and glowered at Rainbow and Tigger. “You can’t bring a cat into the day care. We have children here who are allergic.”
Rainbow said nothing. Tigger meowed again, as if she were telling the woman off. Mike found himself stammering. “Uh, I wasn’t—”
“And who are you?” The woman shifted her gaze from Rainbow to Mike and then back again. He’d been getting that reaction a lot in the three days he’d been caring for Rainbow. Maybe he should be worried. Last Chance was a sleepy southern town. For all its apparent wholesomeness, it might still be a place where Rainbow would never fit in.
His stomach churned, and he slapped on his poker face. “I’m looking for Reverend Lake.”
“Does he know you’re coming?”
“Uh, no, but we’re family.”
That shut the woman up. Her questioning gaze shifted a couple more times. Rainbow probably bore about as much resemblance to Timmy as she did to Mike himself. Too bad. Everyone in this one-horse town would just have to get over it.
“Do you know where I can find him?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s late. He could be in his office or he might have left for the day.”
“And his office is…?”
She pointed down an adjoining hallway with yet more doors opening on either side. “His office is at the end of the hall.”
Mike gave her his poker smile, but for some reason, this woman wasn’t buying it. She kept staring, and he got the feeling she wanted to stick her nose into his business the way Dr. Polk had.
He turned away before the woman could give him the third degree and found Tim’s office with ease. The pastor’s name appeared on a plaque by the side of an open door.
Mike crossed the threshold, his heart suddenly racing. He hadn’t seen his little brother in more than twenty-five years.
Timmy’s office was medium sized with a window overlooking the parking lot. A cluttered desk the size of an aircraft carrier sat in the middle of the room with a pair of grubby kid sneakers doing paperweight duty at one corner. A couple of cluttered shelving units jammed the space beside the desk. Two chairs and a couch sat in front of it.
A man wearing a Roman collar sat at the desk furiously typing on a laptop computer.
Timmy.
Timmy didn’t look up from his computer, but he paused in his typing and pointed to the shoes. “Maryanne, if you’re looking for Jesse’s shoes, they’re over there. He left them when the kids came down here for story hour.”
“Uh, it’s not Maryanne.”
Timmy startled and turned a pair of piercing blue eyes on Mike. Mike’s heart rate spiked again. Timmy was a dead ringer for his father—the only dad Mike had ever known. Not that Colin Lake was really Mike’s father, but try explaining DNA to a five-year-old kid who never knew his own dad.
Timmy’s blue gaze bored into Mike for a few seconds before it shifted to Rainbow and widened a bit, no doubt because of Rainbow’s appearance and the presence of Tigger, who greeted Timmy with a sociable meow.
“We don’t allow animals in the church,” Timmy said.
“I know. But—”
Timmy stood up. “I’m Reverend Lake. What can I do for you?” He held out his hand over the cluttered desk.
Mike shook it. Timmy didn’t have one of those weaselly handshakes. Relief loosened Mike’s shoulders. Timmy would be a terrific father. He had been a great little brother.
Mike gulped down a big breath. “I’m Michael Taggart, and this is Rainbow. And…” He ran out of words the minute he read the lack of recognition on Timmy’s face. Disappointment washed through Mike, even though he knew it was stupid to have expected his younger brother to remember.
Timmy waited patiently for Mike to get over his sudden emotions. No doubt men of God practiced patience.
Mike’s sour stomach intensified. “Ah, look,” he said, “I have a feeling you’re not going to believe this, but the fact is I’m your half-brother. And Rainbow, here, is your niece. We’ve come here today because we need your help.”
The minister should avoid playing poker. His eyes got a little bigger, and the corners of his mouth turned down. “I have no siblings,” he said. He folded his arms across his chest, his body language telegraphing his emotions and thoughts.
“You do. You just don’t remember. Your father was briefly married to my mother, Alice Taggart. She’s your birth mom, although I bet you don’t know that. I think she’s still alive, but I don’t know where she is. She’s not worth much, so don’t worry that you’ve missed anything special by not remembering her. When your dad found God and got sober, you were about three and I was five. I remember that day like it was yesterday. He walked out and took you with him. And as far as I know, he never did one thing to help Mom or me. Mom went on to have another kid, our sister, Angie. And Angie was killed ten days ago. Rainbow, here, is Angie’s daughter, and she doesn’t have a home, and the last thing she needs is a guy like me who lives in Vegas and makes his daily bread playing poker. So that’s why we’re here. Rainbow needs a home. Her grandmother is a drunk. And I’m a gambler. So that leaves you.”
Tigger punctuated this speech with a loud, whiny meow. As usual, Rainbow said nothing, but she was clutching his hand like a vise, which reminded Mike of the argument he’d had with the vet. Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken so bluntly in front of the kid. But it wasn’t as if Rainbow didn’t know the situation. She’d spent the last week in foster care.
Timmy stared down at the kid and the cat. Then he came around his big desk and hunkered down so he could be face-to-face with Rainbow. “Hi, Rainbow,” he said. “What’s your kitty’s name?” He petted the cat.
The cat didn’t hiss or claw or play any of its demonic tricks. Mike took this as a sign that Timmy, Rainbow, and Tigger were a match made in heaven.
His optimism evaporated quickly. Half a minute after touching the feline, the minister started sneezing. And not merely one sneeze. The poor guy sneezed five times in a row. He stood up and snagged a tissue from the box on the corner of his desk and blew his nose. But it didn’t help much. His eyes were streaming and turning an angry shade of red.
“I’m sorry, Rainbow,” Timmy said as he backed away. “I’m allergic to cats. But I’m more allergic to some cats than others. So what’s your kitty’s name?”
Rainbow said nothing, of course, so Mike filled in the blanks. “The cat’s name is Tigger. And Rainbow has stopped talking ever since she witnessed her mother’s death.”
The minister’s eyebrows lowered. “Good Lord.” He reached for the bottle of sanitizer next to the tissues and pumped a generous amount into his hands. Mike wondered if the guy always sanitized himself after every encounter with a kid. But maybe he was being unkind. The guy was clearly allergic. Which was a big problem.
Rainbow continued to grip his hand. He’d lost the feeling in his index finger.
“Look, I know this is a shock,” Mike said. “But you and I are the only sober family Rainbow has, and unless one of us tak
es her, she’s going into foster care.”
The minister stared at Rainbow for a long moment before he raised his gaze. “Michael?”
“Mike.”
He nodded. “Where did you say you and your mother were living when my father left you?”
“In Chicago.”
“I grew up in Atlanta.”
“You were born in Chicago.”
“I know that. But I grew up in Atlanta.”
“You didn’t live there until you were three.”
A charged silence filled the room before Timmy let out a big breath and held his hands out to Rainbow. “Honey, how would you like to spend a few minutes with Miss Maryanne in the day-care center while your uncle and I have a little chat? You can even bring your cat.”
Rainbow squeezed Mike’s finger even harder. She didn’t want to leave him. But Mike handed the kid off to Timmy anyway.
Shaking off her grasp gave him no joy or relief. That surprised him. He’d been so sure that finding her a father was the right thing to do.
He stood there watching through the doorway as Timmy and Rainbow headed down the hall and back to the day-care center. Just before they got there, Rainbow glanced over her shoulder. She reminded Mike of Angie, the day he had walked out on her. Angie had been seven. Mike had been almost eighteen.
And like Angie on that long-ago day, Rainbow looked scared, hopeless, and lost.
CHAPTER
3
Tim left the little girl with Maryanne, who wanted to ask him a bunch of questions. He didn’t elaborate. The entire congregation would find out every gory detail before the night ended. The Altar Guild had one heck of a grapevine that connected every single busybody and gossip in his congregation.
And there were legions of them.
His hands trembled by the time he returned to his office. All his life he’d wanted a sibling. He’d watched his parents’ heartbreak every time Mom had a miscarriage. To learn that he’d always had a brother—a brother his father had never mentioned—left him shaken.
