The Place I Belong

by Nancy Herkness

  Sharon swung the truck door closed and gave it a friendly slap in farewell before she turned back to the barn.

  Hannah slumped in the seat, feeling the weight of her decision lying heavy on her. Maybe she should have waited for Tim. Or for the test results.

  “No! No more second-guessing!” She slammed the seat with her fist, making the half-eaten sandwich sitting there pop into the air. “I’m a darned good vet and I know it’s the right thing to do.”

  She started to turn the key in the ignition and then remembered her promise to call Adam. She crossed her arms on the steering wheel and dropped her forehead against them with a moan. Her little spurt of courage had deserted her.

  It was impossible to decide what to say to Adam about their encounter last night because her feelings were so tangled and conflicting she had no idea where to start. He was a terrific lover, and her body still fizzed with excitement at the memories. However, relief had washed through her when he’d kissed her awake at five a.m. to say he had to get home before Matt woke up. Her qualms about having to face Adam in the morning over the breakfast table spoke volumes about how little she knew the man. He was an enigma with troubles so serious she couldn’t begin to fathom them.

  The trick would be to keep the conversation about Matt and Satchmo. Avoidance. It was something she’d become adept at with Ward.

  She swiped over Adam’s cell number and beat a tattoo on the steering wheel with her other hand as she listened to it ring.

  “Hannah.” His voice was low and intimate. “I was going to call you later. I’d like to come by after the restaurant closes.”

  “Er, that’s not why I’m calling.” She rolled her eyes at her own gaucheness, but she didn’t know how to answer him. “It’s about Satchmo. His condition has worsened, and I’ve started treating him for EPM. Equine protozoal myeloencephalitis. It’s a parasite that attacks the central nervous system, and it’s tough to diagnose or completely cure.”

  Adam muttered a curse. “Matt’s planning to spend most of the weekend at the stable. Should I keep him away?”

  “Only you can decide that. However, Satchmo’s not in pain. He’s just lying down and staying down. I suppose he could die while Matt’s there, which would be traumatic, but I don’t think that will happen.” She took a breath. “On the other hand, Satchmo responds to Matt. It might actually be beneficial to the pony to have your son there. But it’s your call.”

  He blew out a breath. “The kid has the worst luck when he loves someone.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair,” Hannah agreed. “But I’m going to do my utmost to pull Satchmo through this.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said.

  Hannah considered her own recent experience with kids and animals. “It seems like it’s better to let children know what’s going on with the animals they love. If Satchmo dies and Matt isn’t there, it might be even more upsetting for him. Maybe you should give him the choice.”

  “Is that what a good father does?” he asked. “Leaves it up to the child?”

  She hesitated before she said, “I think maybe a good father does leave it up to his child. As long as you assure him that you’ll support any choice he makes.”

  “Of course I’ll support him.” Adam’s voice lost its snap as he added, “I’m not cut out for this. And you don’t deserve to bear the brunt of it. Last night was—”

  “Something we should talk about later,” Hannah said, going into avoidance mode again. “You mentioned coming by?” By then she hoped to have some plan in mind.

  “It will be late.”

  She hesitated at the thought of another short night’s sleep. Without Tim she had a busy Saturday ahead of her. “No problem.”

  “I’ll bring caviar.”

  His last word sent heat surging through her body. What had she gotten herself into?

  Adam parked the Maserati in an empty space a half-block from the junior high school. He was fifteen minutes early for pick-up but he couldn’t sit still. Jumping out of the car, he paced down the sidewalk away from the square brick school building, scouring his brain for the right words to break the news about Satchmo to Matt and then offer him a graceful way to avoid the pain of watching the pony slide into death.

  It didn’t help that flashbacks of his night with Hannah kept intruding. Even though he knew she had offered him the comfort of her body out of sympathy, he had lost himself in her responsiveness, the craving for alcohol vanquished by the unexpected explosion of their coming together.

  Why the hell hadn’t he called his AA sponsor? What had possessed him to involve Hannah?

  It was because she was his lifeline to Matt. After reading Maggie’s letter, he’d needed to feel that connection with his son, so he’d turned to Hannah.

  He shook his head. It was more than that. She was the light to his shadow. He wanted to bask in her healing warmth. Now he was going to screw things up between Matt and Hannah by tangling his own desires with their relationship.

  He yanked his hands out of his pockets and shoved them through his hair, trying to force himself to think clearly.

  It was Friday, one of the two busiest days at The Aerie, and he hadn’t done anything more than glance at the reservations list. As of an hour ago, the lamb delivery hadn’t arrived and they were down to the last bottle of Le Montrachet, one of their finest French white Burgundies.

  “How do single mothers do it?” he muttered, pivoting on his heel and walking back toward the car. He leaned against the sleek fender, arms folded, and sank his chin to his chest as he returned to his first concern: Matt and Satchmo.

  The kid couldn’t catch a break.

  It was Adam’s fault. He selfishly wanted to keep his son with him when he wasn’t fit to be a father. As soon as he got back to the restaurant, he would tell his investigator to do a full background check on the McNallys. He owed it to Matt to find him someone who could handle things like dying ponies the way a competent parent should.

  The clanging of a bell jerked him upright. He straightened away from the car and scanned the mass of kids pouring through the flung-open metal doors. Spotting Matt’s dark hair and green hoodie, he lifted a hand to catch his attention. His son’s expression went from laughter to surliness in a split second as Matt nodded curtly in acknowledgment of his father’s presence. Adam felt a jab of pain lance through his chest. He wasn’t going to make Matt’s mood any better.

  “Did you have to bring this car?” Matt said, walking past his father to open the passenger door and fling his backpack into the back seat. “It’s like you’re showing off.”

  Adam knew better than to apologize. Matt would have objected no matter which car he had driven. “I needed to get here fast.”

  “Because you were running late as usual,” Matt said, slamming the passenger door closed in Adam’s face.

  Temper sparked at Matt’s rudeness, but Adam took a breath and walked with a measured step around the car’s hood. He opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, wrapping his fingers around the steering wheel before he turned to look at his son.

  Matt’s gaze was glued to his phone, his thumbs flying across the touch screen. Adam waited.

  “Why are we sitting here?” Matt lifted his head to glare at his father. “I’m supposed to be at the stable.”

  “Dr. Linden called. Satchmo’s taken a turn for the worse.”

  The hostility in Matt’s blue eyes was swamped by a heartbreaking panic. “He’s not dying, is he?” the boy whispered.

  “She’s doing everything she can to prevent that,” Adam said, not wanting to lie to his son.

  Matt turned away to stare out the side window. He swallowed hard and his breath sounded ragged. Adam reached across to lay his hand on Matt’s shoulder. “You don’t have to go see him in this condition.”

  His son whipped around, shrugging off Adam’s h
and. The glare was back, heightened by the tears he was trying hard not to shed. “Did Dr. Linden say I couldn’t?”

  “No. In fact—”

  “Then I’m going.” Matt shifted in his seat so he was looking through the windshield. Adam punched on the ignition as he watched Matt blink repeatedly.

  Putting the car in gear, Adam finished saying what he wanted his son to know. “Dr. Linden said it might help Satchmo if you were there.”

  He felt the bitterness of Matt’s antagonism as his son snapped, “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “You didn’t give me a chance.”

  Tension wound through the silence as Adam guided the car through the side streets to the highway.

  “Dr. Linden really thinks I can help?” Matt asked, his voice husky.

  “That’s what she said, but she didn’t want to put any pressure on you.”

  Matt sucked in a breath but said nothing.

  “She’s a highly skilled veterinarian,” Adam said. “She’ll do everything she can for Satchmo.”

  “I know,” Matt said. His voice broke on a swallowed sob and Adam felt his heart twist. Not caring if he was rejected again, he took one hand off the steering wheel and gripped Matt’s thin shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “This sucks,” Matt said so softly Adam barely caught his words.

  “Yes, it does.” Adam gave Matt’s shoulder a squeeze and brought his hand back to the wheel as the road bent into a hairpin turn. “It really sucks.”

  Chapter 13

  AT FIVE THIRTY, Hannah unlatched the door to Satchmo’s stall and stopped in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. The pony was stretched out flat on the straw bedding, his head resting in the cradle of Matt’s crossed legs while the boy stroked down Satch’s neck. Matt’s gaze came up and a look of relief spread over his face. “Dr. Linden!”

  A shadow stirred in the corner of the stall, materializing into Adam as he stood up, brushing straw off his black jeans. “We’re glad to see you. Satchmo seems to be getting weaker,” he said in a low voice.

  The hope on Matt’s face dimmed.

  Hannah knelt by the pony. “It’s good that you’re here,” she said to Matt. “He’ll want to get well for you.” Putting her stethoscope in her ears, she checked Satchmo’s heartbeat and breathing. Neither was strong. She ran her hands over the pony’s body and legs, watching for reactions that didn’t come.

  “He’s not in pain,” she said, sitting back on her heels. “So that’s the good news.”

  “Sharon says she’s been giving him all the medications you prescribed,” Adam offered.

  She glanced up to see his gaze straying back to his son, who was now bent over Satchmo, murmuring something in the pony’s ear. The distress Adam felt on Matt’s behalf was clear in the tightness of his jaw.

  “How long has he been lying down flat like this?” Hannah asked.

  “He did it right after we got here,” Matt said. “I knew it was a bad sign.”

  “About three-thirty, so for the last two hours,” Adam clarified, rubbing his hand over his jaw. As she watched his movement, a memory of that hand cupping her breast flashed through her mind, flushing her cheeks.

  He must have read something of her thoughts in her expression because his gaze went hot and soft. Awareness rippled through her, making her fingers curl inward. Their eyes met and she saw the flicker of desire in his. She sucked in a breath.

  Matt’s voice snapped her out of the trance Adam had drawn her into. “I sat down beside him and he rolled over and stretched out like this.”

  “Maybe he just wanted to rest his head in your lap as a way to make contact,” Hannah said. “I’m going to go see Sharon about getting Satchmo some treats.” She skimmed her fingers over the back of Adam’s hand in a brief, silent communication, her fingertips glancing across the raised scars.

  “We’ll be here,” Adam said, the tightness in his jaw returning as he looked at Matt.

  Hannah was halfway to Sharon’s office when the horsewoman strode through the barn’s big door. “Hey, Doc, I heard you were here. How’s Satch?”

  Hannah shook her head, and Sharon’s face fell.

  “Can I raid your feed room to see if I can mix up something to tempt Satchmo’s appetite?” Hannah asked.

  “Take anything you think will work,” Sharon said, leading her to the green-painted door and fitting a key into the lock. “The door locks itself when you pull it shut, so I’ll let you have my key in case you need to come back. We don’t want the critters getting into something they shouldn’t.”

  Hannah stepped into the fragrant room filled with bags, wooden bins, and various plastic containers, all labeled in neat, square handwriting. Oats, corn, barley, molasses, dried vegetables and grasses, soybean meal, bran, vitamins, and various already concocted pellets were on offer. She swung open the refrigerator door to find carrots, apples, probiotics, and high-protein liquids.

  “These horses eat better than I do,” she muttered, pulling out several containers and tossing the ingredients into a shallow, stainless-steel bowl she found on a shelf. She scooped out various grains and stirred everything around before she leaned down to sniff at her creation. “Maybe Satchmo has a sweet tooth.” She added some molasses and rolled the mixture into bite-sized balls before heading back toward the pony’s stall.

  Adam waylaid her before she reached it, pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning against to take her elbow. He guided her back toward the feed room and into an empty stall well away from Satchmo’s. As soon as they were inside, he released her and closed the door before turning. “Is Satchmo dying?” His voice was raw.

  “Not if I can help it,” she said, clutching the bowl against her stomach.

  “But it’s possible.”

  “If the EPM is advanced, it’s possible. But I won’t let him go without doing everything in my power to prevent it.”

  “I know,” he said, as he ran his fingers through his hair.

  She longed to offer him reassurance, but she couldn’t lie to him after the searing intimacy of the night before. Instead she reached up with one hand to smooth down the worst of his tousled hair, savoring the satin slide of it beneath her palm until she forced herself to step away from temptation.

  One corner of his mouth turned up as he dragged his palms over his hair in an unsuccessful attempt to neaten it further. “My first boss used to yell at me for sticking my fingers in my hair when I was under pressure. It’s a bad habit for a chef.”

  “It seems he didn’t break your habit,” she said, gripping the bowl to keep her hands away from him.

  “He did,” he said, the half-smile winking out. “When I’m cooking.” He looked down at the horse food. “Is that something medicinal for Satchmo?”

  “Medicinal? No, it’s meant to tempt him to eat.”

  Adam picked up one of the balls and brought it to his nose, grimacing slightly as he inhaled. He broke off a piece and rubbed it between his fingers, testing the texture, before he let the crumbled bits fall into the straw bedding. “Hmm.”

  “What does that mean?” Hannah picked up one of the lopsided balls and took a whiff. It didn’t smell as tantalizing as it had in the feed room.

  “If you tell me what ingredients to put in it, I’ll see if I can make it more…enticing.” He took the bowl from her.

  “You’re going to cook for a horse?” The thought reminded her it was late on Friday afternoon and he had a restaurant to run. “Don’t you need to be at work?” she asked, tugging on the bowl to take it back.

  He held onto it. “My staff can handle it.” His words were confident, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

  “I’m planning to stay with Satchmo,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on Matt too.”

  He snapped his gaze to hers. “My son is not going through
this without me.”

  She let go of the bowl. “You know, Matt’s got better luck with his father than you like to think.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her in disagreement but made no comment. She scrabbled in her jacket pocket for the feed-room key and held it out to him. “You can put anything in it that’s natural. No vitamins and no protein supplements because Sharon has given those to him already.”

  He wrapped his fingers around her extended hand and pulled her into him, releasing her to slip his free arm around her waist. “Thank you for last night. For being here today. For a generosity I don’t deserve.” He spoke in a low, husky voice that seemed to vibrate in her bones.

  “You keep saying you don’t deserve things,” she said, leaning back slightly to see his face. “I think you deserve more than most.”

  His grip on her tightened and a spasm of denial twisted his mouth. “I have a lot to atone for first.” He kissed her forehead and let her go.

  She wanted to protest the loss. The solid weight of his arm felt so good resting on her hips, while the warmth of his body beat back the chill of the barn. But she knew it was better not to allow herself to enjoy it. Her feelings about him were so confused she had no idea where to go with them.

  He used the bowl to wave her through the stall door. “This will be a real test of my mettle as a chef,” he said, glancing down at its contents.

  “I’ll explain to Satchmo just how expensive his meal would be if he had to pay for it.”

  Adam bit off a laugh and headed for the feed room. Hannah slipped her hands into her pockets and watched him stride away, the dark color of his clothes creating the illusion that he was vanishing in the twilight interior of the barn.

  She shook herself, trying to slough off the residual effect of his touch before she walked over to Satchmo’s stall.

  “Any change?” she asked as she closed the stall door behind her.

  Matt shook his head, misery written all over his face. With one hand he kept up a rhythmic stroking down the pony’s neck, while his other hand cradled Satchmo’s head.