The Place I Belong

by Nancy Herkness

  “That was just his way of bringing the boy to him.”

  Hannah bit her lip. She’d heard rumors about Sharon’s mystical theory regarding whisper horses but dismissed them in the face of the horsewoman’s achievements and down-to-earth common sense.

  “I know you don’t believe anything I’m saying,” Sharon said with unabated cordiality, “but you ask Dr. Tim when he gets back. He was a skeptic too.”

  “Tim has a whisper horse?” Hannah hoped she didn’t sound too dubious.

  “His wife Claire does. Willow. When Claire came down here to Sanctuary, she was hurting from a real ugly divorce. Willow was one of my rescues, so she had some healing to do too. As soon as Claire and Willow laid eyes on each other, they felt that bond.” Sharon said it as though it was the most normal thing in the world. “Claire even brought her little niece down here to talk to her whisper horse. Truth is, if it hadn’t been for Willow, Claire and Tim might not be married today. She brought them together.”

  Hannah was fascinated but unconvinced. “There’s no question Satchmo touched something in Matt,” she said. “He wouldn’t go near any of the other animals you have here.” Of course the pony was significantly smaller than the Thoroughbreds who made up the majority of Sharon’s stable residents. The reason didn’t matter. She was just glad to see Matt slough off the prickly façade he usually presented to the world.

  “So how’d you end up with Matt as your shadow today?” Sharon said, continuing toward her office.

  “His father asked me to give him an animal’s-eye view of the world. They’re having a little problem with Matt being careless about Adam’s dog.”

  “Well, there’s no one better qualified to do that than you,” Sharon said. “I admit I was a little worried about a big-city vet joining a country practice, but Tim did a smart thing taking you on as a partner. You read horses as easily as a third-grade textbook.”

  The compliment was especially gratifying because of Sharon’s expertise, and Hannah’s confidence needed the boost. After the blow her career took in Chicago, she wasn’t sure she’d ever practice veterinary medicine again. “I was lucky to get such a great position,” she said with sincerity. Her former partners had given her the most minimal of references, fearing possible legal repercussions. Sometimes their lack of support hurt her almost as much as Ward’s desertion.

  “We’re pretty lucky with the city slickers who settle here,” Sharon said, stopping in front of her door. “You don’t really have any medications to go over with me, do you?”

  “You saw through my ploy,” Hannah said, smiling.

  “It was worth a try. The boy wanted to stay with Satchmo. I can’t figure out why he made himself leave.”

  “Fear of loss?” Hannah suggested. “He’s heading it off at the pass.”

  “Could be.” Sharon put her hand on the doorknob. “You’d better get over to Zicafoose’s. George is a cranky old codger.”

  “I appreciate the warning,” Hannah said, taking off at a jog for the truck.

  Hannah eased the truck onto the highway. “So did your sneakers get any manure on them?”

  When she’d gotten behind the wheel, Matt had been wedged against the passenger door slouched over his cell phone, typing at high speed. He’d responded to her greeting and gone back to texting. Now his gaze shifted down to his feet as he lifted first one and then the other to check for dirt. “Maybe some.”

  “Just throw them in the washing machine when you get home.”

  He stared at his feet. “They won’t come apart?”

  She took a quick glance downward, noticing again how ratty the red high-tops were. “Well, if they do, you can just get a new pair.”

  She felt him shift on the seat. “My mother gave these to me.”

  She’d put her foot in it now. “I understand. Sentimental value.”

  “Sort of,” he said. “I didn’t like the red at first.”

  “I had a pair of red boots I loved.” Hannah kept talking as relief surged through her that he hadn’t clammed up. However, she heard the weight of regret in his voice. She suspected he had told his mother he didn’t like the shoes and now he felt guilty about it. She knew she shouldn’t allow herself to become further entangled in the situation, but her heart ached at the sadness wrapped around her young companion.

  “What happened to your boots?” he asked.

  She’d hurled them into a Goodwill bin in a Walmart parking lot right after Ward broke off their engagement. Along with all the other fancy clothes she’d bought to go to Ward’s charity galas and political fundraisers and ribbon-cuttings. She knew she could never wear them without having his betrayal slice through her heart all over again. But darn, she missed those boots.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Matt lean forward, craning his neck as he tried to look into her face, and she realized she hadn’t answered his question. She could lie, but something about the boy’s pain compelled her to be honest with him. “I donated them to charity.”

  “How come, if you liked them so much?”

  “Because they reminded me of someone I didn’t think much of anymore. Kind of the opposite of your sneakers.”

  He sat back. “That’s cool.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah. But maybe you should buy some new boots. In a different color.” There was a hint of humor in the boy’s voice.

  Hannah looked down at the lace-up tan Timberland boots she wore. She’d bought them when she moved to Sanctuary. This was only the second time she’d worn them, and their lack of use was glaringly obvious. “You have something against Timberlands?”

  “You should scuff ’em up some and then they’ll be okay.”

  “I’m getting fashion advice from a teenaged boy,” Hannah said, giving him an exaggerated eye roll.

  “Are you kidding?” he said. “That’s the best person to get fashion advice from.”

  A smile tugged her lips upward. Matt was actually teasing her.

  Maybe Sharon was right about that whisper pony.

  Chapter 4

  MATT HAD GONE silent as soon as she’d turned off the main road at the sign displaying the words “The Aerie” painted in a rich burgundy. No other information was necessary for a restaurant of its reputation. In a barely audible mutter, the boy had directed her past The Aerie, and down a drive lined with the dark, dense foliage of rhododendron bushes and evergreen trees. As they rounded a curve, the vegetation fell away and the drive widened to meet a broad apron of river stone. Adam’s house was a graceful modern design similar to the restaurant, with great expanses of glass framed by substantial timbers stained a warm, blond hue. The glass looked like sheets of gold as it caught and reflected the late afternoon sun.

  “Nice house,” Hannah said, pulling up in front of the steps.

  “It’s okay,” he allowed grudgingly.

  Hannah swung open her door and hopped down from the high cab. As she walked around the truck’s front end, Adam came through his front door.

  Every thought in her brain evaporated as he jogged down the wide stone steps. He was dressed in a black suit cut to emphasize the very masculine proportion of his shoulders to his waist. A black shirt and tie and highly polished black leather shoes completed the elegantly funereal effect. She’d thought Ward had a sophisticated sense of fashion, but this man made her ex-fiancé look downright provincial.

  When she realized her fingers were practically twitching with the desire to rumple the perfection of his hair as it waved back off his high forehead, she shoved her hands into the pockets of her khakis and tried to re-engage her brain.

  “Dad?” Matt sounded as shocked as she felt. “I thought you’d be at the restaurant.”

  “I wanted to hear how—” Adam began, but Matt stalked past him up the steps and through the front door, slamming it behind him. His father turned to watch
his son, flinching at the bang.

  Hannah stood feeling helpless while Adam turned his palms outward in what she was sure was an unconscious gesture of baffled defeat. He dropped his hands before he turned back to her. “I hope he didn’t slam any doors in your face,” he said, a rueful smile not concealing the pain she read in his expression.

  “Teenagers only treat their parents badly,” she said. “He and I got along fine.”

  His head tilted back as he sent a look of relief skyward. “I’ve been asking myself all day how I could foist Matt on a virtual stranger, and the only answer is sheer desperation. My apologies for imposing on you.”

  “Really, Matt was great.” She hesitated as she realized the difficulties of explaining the concept of a whisper horse to him without sounding like a lunatic. She needed to emphasize the positive impact of the bond between Matt and Satchmo, but it would be hard to describe it rationally. “I need to discuss something with you.”

  “I’d like nothing more than to talk at length about how the day went, but I’m already late for work.” His smile conveyed every shade of regret from simple courtesy to the implication that he found her company so irresistible it was a struggle for him to withdraw from it. She’d seen that kind of smile before. It was one she had no faith in.

  “I’m sorry. I forgot it was Saturday. You must be incredibly busy.”

  “My staff is excellent, but it sets a bad example if the boss shows up too late.” His shrug was smoothly self-deprecating. “I hate to ask you this when you’ve been working all day, but would the walk between here and The Aerie give us enough time to at least begin our discussion?”

  It wasn’t wise to put herself in close proximity to this man who could reduce her to a state of mind-blanking enthrallment by simply wearing a suit, but she wanted to work out arrangements for Matt to visit Satchmo. “I can manage a few more steps.”

  When he offered her his arm, she looked at the pristine wool of his suit jacket and then down at her own attire. Mud-and-manure spattered khakis, filthy clod-hopping boots, and a barn jacket blanketed with horsehair met her eyes. And he wanted to play courtly escort?

  She took a step away. A little distance was safer anyway.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking perplexed as he stood with his arm held out and bent at the elbow.

  “You’re about to serve people expensive food, and I’ve been tromping through cowpies.”

  “You make a valid point.” He lowered his arm and gestured for her to walk beside him as he started down a flagstone-paved path through the woods beside his house. “My customers undoubtedly would prefer I not bring, er, cowpies into the dining room.”

  She couldn’t help liking the fact that he hadn’t let her messiness affect his chivalrous impulse, but she pushed the thought aside to concentrate on her request for Matt. She decided not to mention whisper horses to Adam. He’d think she’d lost her mind. “I took Matt to Healing Springs Stables today, and he sort of bonded with a pony named Satchmo. The pony was the stall mate of a racehorse who was euthanized, and he’s feeling lonely and not eating well. Horses are very social creatures.”

  She glanced sideways to gauge what Adam thought of her explanation but saw only polite interest, so she kept going. “Sharon Sydenstricker, the owner of the stables, says it would be doing her a favor if Matt would come out and spend some time with the pony. She’d even give him some riding lessons for free. I told her I could give Matt a lift out there a couple of days a week, but I need your permission.”

  Adam was frowning. Hannah wondered where she’d gone wrong.

  “I can take him to the stable and pay for his lessons.”

  So that’s why he was irritated. So much for the cheap dad reputation Matt was trying to spread around. “Don’t you have to be at the restaurant in the afternoon?”

  The frown wasn’t dissipating. “He’s my son. I’m responsible for his transportation.”

  “Look, I need to keep an eye on Satchmo anyway, so it’s not a problem for me to take Matt.”

  “Thank you, but no.” His tone said further argument was not an option.

  Hannah shrugged. “It’s your call, but I hope you’ll let him go to the stable.”

  “Of course I will. I had no idea…” He ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, exactly the way she’d wanted to. “I thought he didn’t like horses.”

  The back of The Aerie loomed through the trees. “He didn’t until he met Satchmo. I’ll tell you about it on Monday. You have to go.” She gestured toward the restaurant.

  He stopped and captured one of her hands, dirt and all, between his, looking down at her with those impenetrable eyes. “You don’t realize what a gift you’ve given Matt…and me,” he said, his palms radiating a heat that coursed all the way into her bones.

  “Um, glad to do it,” Hannah said, dropping her eyes to his chest, where she noticed his tie had a subtle, burgundy stripe in it. All the textures of silk, cotton, and wool made her want to press her palm against them, especially when she saw them rise and fall with his breathing. She knew she would be able to feel the warmth of his body through the fine fabrics.

  She pulled her hand out from between his as quickly as she could without seeming rude. Or at least she hoped she didn’t seem rude. “I’ve got to get back to the office.” She turned without looking at him again and strode back down the path toward his house, wiping her hand on her grubby trousers. It didn’t help. She could still feel the calluses and the strength of his fingers wrapped around hers.

  Breaking out of the trees, she saw Matt slouched against the truck, his thumbs flying across his cell phone. She crunched on some fallen leaves and the boy looked up. “I’m glad you’re still here,” he said, dropping the phone into his hoodie’s pocket.

  She wished she could say the same. She looked longingly at the cab of the truck. “What’s up?”

  “I didn’t say thank you,” he said with a shrug. “Today was cool.”

  The urge to flee melted under this major compliment from a teenaged male. She reached out to give his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Yeah, it was. And your dad says you can visit Satchmo and take riding lessons.”

  His blue eyes went electric with anticipation. “Tomorrow?”

  She shook her head. “We’re working out the logistics on Monday. But he’s pretty psyched you found a pony you like.”

  Some of the vividness faded from his expression. “Yeah, well, I just wanted to say thanks.”

  “Stop by the animal hospital anytime,” Hannah said, surprising herself by meaning it.

  “Okay,” he said, giving her a fleeting smile. “See you.”

  He shoved off the truck and headed for the front door. Hannah crossed her arms and watched him go.

  How in the heck had the two Bosches managed to work their way under her skin?

  Adam walked through the side door of The Aerie, closing it softly behind him. He stood in the quiet hallway thinking about his conversation with Dr. Linden. She’d performed a miracle for him: getting Matt interested in something other than video games and violent movies. He wanted to cook a spectacular meal to thank her, yet she kept pushing him away when he tried to express his gratitude.

  He shook his head in frustration. She’d enjoyed the food at lunch, so she wasn’t one of those people who considered food mere fuel. And she’d claimed Matt wasn’t a difficult companion.

  By process of elimination, it had to be Adam himself she didn’t care for. He should have known his superficial charm wouldn’t fool her. She was accustomed to looking beneath the surface in her animal patients. Evidently she did the same with humans.

  “Mr. Bosch!” Lucy Porterfield, one of his hostesses, stopped short as she saw him. “I didn’t know you’d arrived.”

  “I’m late,” he said, giving her an apologetic smile. He cast a dispassionate glance over the young woman standing in
front of him. The slim, black, sheath dress fitted her with a tasteful seductiveness, its knee-length hem showing off her stocking-clad calves and classic, black, high-heeled pumps. Sun-streaked brown hair was piled into a loose bun on top of her head and her makeup was subtle. Pearl drops dangled from her earlobes. Her voice held just enough of the local mountain twang to charm his customers. He was exacting in his requirements for all his staff members, and the first face they saw was especially important. Lucy filled her role perfectly.

  “Any new reservations I should know about?” he asked, falling into step beside her. He’d checked the evening’s reservation list when he brought the dirty dishes from lunch back to the kitchen.

  “No regulars,” she said. “But we have a group of eight coming in by helicopter for a seven o’clock seating. I just managed to squeeze them in.”

  Patrons who came in by helicopter were valued by the staff because they were generally big tippers, so he understood her desire to accommodate the last-minute diners.

  “All cleared with local air traffic control?” He was certain it would be; his staff was capable and well-trained. However, he’d learned it paid to double check on the issues that most affected his customers. Not being able to land on the restaurant’s private helipad would definitely annoy them.

  Lucy nodded. “I heard Rick on the phone with the airport about an hour ago.”

  “Well done,” he said, putting his appreciation into his smile. He held open the door that led to the main dining room and waved her through in front of him. She headed for the front door while he strolled around the room surveying his dream-made-reality.

  Adam was not admiring the huge sheets of glass framing vistas of gray-green mountains rolling away in the gathering dusk, nor the hand-wrought bronze chandeliers shedding a warm light over the gleaming crystal and silver. Instead he was checking to see if any table was missing its arrangement of burgundy calla lilies, crabapple berries, and chartreuse spider mums, if a single gold velvet-upholstered chair was set crooked, or a utilitarian serving tray had been left out on the floor. He checked water goblets for spots and smoothed the folds of a white linen napkin.