“Sure you can,” a voice said from the other side of the milking station. “You’re just out of practice.”
Cord looked up to see Scott Phillips smiling back at him.
He rolled his eyes. The first time he’d seen Scott or rather his ghost, he’d been staying at the B & B. He’d been sacked out in one of the guest rooms less than twenty-four hours after having been dragged back to California from Houston by a Guard buddy. At the time, he’d been grateful that Jarrod Collins had shown up there to bail him out of jail. What he hadn’t admitted to anyone at the time though was that he’d been surly from that point forward.
His friends had deserved better. What he’d given them instead was a big fat nothing for their trouble.
“You know, for a ghost you get around,” Cord commented as he leaned over the railing and continued supervising the cows.
“It’s true. I get bored easily.”
“You’re starting to piss me off, bugging me like you have been. You must really get a kick out of popping up like some jack-in-the-box, scaring the hell out of people.”
“I gotta say I never get tired of seeing their eyes bug out when they recognize it’s me. There’s a certain thrill in that.”
“You’re pathetic or maybe perverse.”
“Probably a little of both. Why begrudge me the only fun I get to have?” He waggled his eyebrows up and down. “So, you’re interested in Keegan Fanning.”
“Geez, a ghost that reads my mind. Do you ever consider how rude that is?”
“Not really since I’m here to offer assistance to the given-up-on-life and the defeated.”
“Okay, smartass, what can you tell me about her?”
Ethan says she’s rock solid, a hard worker.”
Cord shook his head. “All things that are great to know but I was hoping for something a little more—personal.”
Scott laughed. “I’m not a peeping Tom for chrissakes. I prefer to think of it as I’m here to enlighten and guide you.”
“Whatever.”
Scott let out a long sigh. “Right now, she’s hurting.”
That got Cord’s attention and he stood up a little straighter. “Someone’s hurting her?”
“No, well, no. But the engine in her truck blew up this afternoon. She’s hurting financially, or rather the rescue center is. She’s pouring herself into that place just like her grandparents did but, the thing is, they had each other to lean on in hard times. Keegan has no one. She’s missing both of her grandparents. She’s alone. Things are tough for her emotionally. But she’s strong and she’s smart.”
“What do I have in common with a woman like that?”
Scott narrowed his eyes, frowned. “She loves animals. Look around you, Cord. Do you care for the animals out here on the farm? I don’t just mean feed and water them; do you care what happens to them?”
“Of course I do. I bust my butt out here—”
“Why are you always so defensive, Cord? Don’t you feel appreciated here?”
Cord puffed out a breath, scrubbed a hand over his face. “Not always. Okay, maybe I’m feeling out of my element here, not exactly comfortable with everyone knowing I tried to—” His voice trailed off. “Your favorite little town is already buzzing about me.”
“True and true. But the point is you aren’t the only one who ever lost someone close to them. You have more in common with Keegan than you know. Maybe you should look her up on the Internet. The rescue center has a website. Look her up. She’s a unique and special person. But I’ll tell you this, the last thing she needs is anyone hanging around her that doesn’t have his head on straight.”
“I start going to AA tomorrow.”
“It’s a step in the right direction. Can you do it, Cord?”
“I don’t know, but I’m gonna try.” About that time he heard a car pull into the common area outside the barn. Curious, he went outside to see Murphy step out of his vintage, 1954 Chevy truck.
The five foot tall, fifty-something man nodded his head and walked toward him. “Cord.”
“Murphy. I know, I know. I’ll show up at three o’clock tomorrow like I promised the judge. You didn’t have to drive all the way out here to prompt me. I guess I’ll meet my sponsor there, right?”
“Pete Alden’s been sober more than twenty years now.”
“How’d you both do it anyway?”
Murphy didn’t need to ask what he meant. “Ethan intervened, called me, and then got the judge to agree to let you out if you had a mature, successful sponsor mentor you. That’s where I recommended Pete. I’ve been sober sixteen years now, but Pete’s got me beat by five years.”
“I had no idea.”
“Not many do. Look, I stock all kinds of alcohol at the store, wine, beer, whiskey, the works, but I don’t dare indulge in the stuff.”
Cord raised his brows. “At all, not even a beer?”
“At all. I used to be in sales and first started drinking just to entertain clients. Later though, it became a crutch to get me through all the sales calls I had with difficult customers. Then I would drink with clients beginning as early as ten a.m. all the while telling myself I needed it to get through the meeting. Sales trips began to take on a party atmosphere. I cheated on my wife—with some regularity. What with the drinking and the cheating it cost me my marriage.
“One day I woke up in a hotel room and didn’t remember what I’d done the night before. Nothing. I’d blacked out and it scared the crap out of me. But that still wasn’t enough for me to quit drinking. It took getting arrested for public intoxication a couple of nights later for me to see the light, especially when my company had their fill and let me go. The night I lost my job, I went to my first AA meeting.”
“So meeting with a bunch of strangers put you on the path to sobriety? I gotta tell you, Murphy, I’m more than a little skeptical. I don’t mind telling people my story or saying a prayer every now and then, but I’m trying to picture how either one’s going to help me get rid of the past.”
“I understand. But once I took that step, I got away from my environment, started fresh here in Pelican Pointe. You can, too. I wasn’t looking for a sermon or a lecture either, but my sponsor who was Pete at the time, got me through the cravings. Pete and I are here to do that for you.”
“Cravings? I don’t have to take a drink, Murphy. I drink to get rid of the memories of Cassie and that day when I couldn’t save her.”
“Ah, I see. When is your first therapy session?”
“Monday. I’ve been down that road before, too. I’m not looking for a miracle here, Murphy. I’d just like to get my life back on track. I’m not a bad person, although when I drink I tend to become a different person entirely, get lots of crazy thoughts and ideas running through my head to go with my inebriated persona.”
“No one thinks you’re crazy.”
“Oh, I don’t know, last night Keegan Fanning looked at me like I was nuts.” He raked his fingers through his blondish hair. “Funny, but two days ago I didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about me. Now—I think I want to—get on with my life.”
Murphy let out a huge sigh. “Good to know. No more thinking suicide then. That’s a start. What are your plans tonight?”
Cord scratched his chin. “I have no plans to take another jump in the ocean if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“Come over for supper. Carla’s cooking a Mexican-style meal complete with frijoles and rice while leaving it to me to grill the steak fajitas. You’re welcome to join us.”
“I appreciate it, Murph, I really do, but I’ll have to take a rain check. What with going to AA on Sunday and my psych appointment on Monday, I’ve got paperwork to catch up on and that includes getting payroll done by Monday.”
Murphy’s skeptical look had Cord quickly adding, “I’ll be okay. If I start feeling weird, I’ll give you a call. How’s that?”
Finally Murphy laughed. “Okay, but Carla could always ask Keegan to join us.” Cord chu
ckled. “Am I that obvious?”
“You sent her flowers.”
“For saving me from drowning,” Cord pointed out. “I think I owe her that much.”
Now it was Murphy’s turn to chuckle. “Sure you do. Get your head sorted out though before you go jumping into a relationship. I’ve been messed up, I know from experience.”
“Good advice. I’ll see what I can do about it.”
Just that morning he’d woken in a cell, the night before he’d tried to end his own life. Even he knew he wasn’t relationship material. No, far from it. He had a lot to do to get right in the head before he ever took a step toward a woman like Keegan Fanning.
With that, he watched as Murphy waved and got back in his truck, leaving him alone to consider his boring night ahead—solo.
For once, taking Scott’s advice, Cord went into his office, booted up his laptop. When the browser popped up, he typed in the name Keegan Fanning and got more than a hundred results.
For a local woman from a little town, she had made an impact. After taking over the center from her grandfather, she had made a reputation for herself at only twenty-six. According to the site, she ran one of the best privately funded animal and marine rescue foundations on the west coast.
After reading all the accolades he wondered again why he should even bother getting to know a woman like that. What would a marine biologist want with a simple man like him? The woman had three degrees for chrissakes.
He rubbed his chin and decided to leave her alone. He’d sent her flowers to thank her for what she’d done last night. That had to be the beginning and the end of it. No matter what itch he felt needed scratching.
Fifteen miles from Taggert Farms, Keegan planned a quiet evening at home alone with her dog, Guinness.
Her list of chores that needed doing was as long as her arm.
Personal laundry didn’t do itself. And the house needed a good cleaning. She’d use her frustration to her advantage and cleaned like a fiend. Besides, it was essential she spend a certain amount of quality time with Tide and Clorox now if she intended to take turns with Abby sitting up with Jack and Dodger later.
After more extensive lab results came back, which showed Dodger still fighting an infection, she had upped his dose of antibiotics and held off moving him to an outdoor pen.
That meant they had three patients they needed to watch throughout the night. And even though the brown pelican had made great strides over the last week, he still wasn’t a hundred percent.
As Keegan scrubbed the kitchen sink and counters, sadness came over her. She couldn’t help it. She missed her grandparents. She wanted to talk to them, confide in them, share the success stories about the animals, as well as all the challenges.
No one quite understood just how much they’d filled so many voids she couldn’t even begin to count over the years. And now they were gone.
When the washer stopped, she threw down the scouring pad and detoured into the laundry room.
Even though Porter and Mary had raised a strong, independent woman, she would’ve enjoyed spending a night like tonight bouncing ideas off both of them over vegetarian shish kabobs from the grill and a beer.
They had given her a rock-solid foundation from the age of five on, now she needed to use that base to her advantage. She didn’t want to let them down because she felt a certain amount of pressure to keep the center thriving and successful in their memory.
Knowing how they both had loved the town, loved the community atmosphere, she felt like she needed to give something back. She wanted nothing more at the moment than to make sure there was still a rescue center around for years to come. To make that a reality, she’d been kicking around a few ideas for weeks now.
And Wally was right. She needed to take advantage of the upcoming street fair and have an open house, take advantage of all the tourists in town. Maybe if she could get new people to tour the compound, they’d see the work that went on there and open their wallets.
When the doorbell rang, she gently dropped the lid on the washer, hipped the door to the dryer closed and jogged down the hall to answer the door.
“Hey, girl, where’s your truck?” Seventy-two-year-old Pete Alden asked as he stood on the porch holding a can of Coke he was never without. The man had been her grandfather’s oldest and dearest friend. He was more like her godfather, a person who had helped teach her the ins and outs of boating, and on more than one occasion over the past fifteen months, had tried to teach her how to accept, first the loss of Porter, and then Mary.
Pete had been the one she’d leaned on at the cemetery—not once—but twice. “What, no hello?”
“Yeah, sure. What’s Wally’s VW doing parked here?” He pushed past her into the house.
“On loan. Mine blew a head gasket, engine’s toast.”
Pete shook his head. “Hate to hear that, but…Wally did warn you. Anyway, I had to let you know that if I help out here in the morning, I gotta take off by three.”
“You know you don’t punch a clock here, Pete,” Keegan said as she followed him into the kitchen, where she watched as he calmly made himself at home by going straight to the fridge and pulling out a replacement can of Coke.
She leaned back on the counter to purposely stare at the guy dressed in a pair of light blue Hawaiian-flowered shorts and an equally bright yellow-flowered shirt. His weathered face, tanned from years of soaking in sun on the water, told her something was up. “Why three?”
“That kid you pulled out of the water last night needs himself a sponsor. I’m it. I gotta make sure I’m at the church tomorrow on time, no dragging in twenty minutes late.”
“I guess he didn’t stay in jail long.”
“Nope. Sent you flowers. It’s all over town. Them the buds?” He pointed to the purple blossoms she’d prominently displayed on the kitchen table. “Nice gesture. Considering.”
“Considering what? You really think you’ll make a difference to him. He seems pretty far gone to me.”
“So was I—once. Truth be told more than once. Took several times as a matter of fact for me to finally straighten out my life. Judge says he’s willing to try AA and go see a shrink. I’m taking a ride out to talk to him now.”
“Really?”
“Want to come?”
“Might be awkward. Besides, I’ve got towels to fold. Not to mention, as of four o’clock this afternoon, we have three patients.”
Pete shook his head. “Pathetic. When I was twenty-six years old I never once sat home on a Saturday night to fold towels. And I sure as hell took the time to have fun every now and again. When’s the last time you had a date, Keegan?”
“I have fun all the time. And I dated—” She stopped as she tried to remember the last time she’d gone out. Eyeing the cynical look on his face, she tossed out, “I’ve put dating on hold. And don’t look at me like that. I have other more pressing matters to deal with right now than to spend my time in pursuit of a good time with the opposite sex.”
“You don’t get away from this place long enough to meet the opposite sex let alone have a good time. There’s no figuring young people these days,” Pete groused before taking a generous slug of Coke and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I’ll tell you what that boy needs without even meeting him for the first time. He needs a reason to wake up in the morning.”
“Everybody needs that. Do you know why he’s so screwed up? Did anyone bother to clue you in? Hayden described the whole spree shooting thing to me last night—in detail. Sounds like the incident is something he’s having trouble getting past—in a big way, especially since he was standing at the altar about to marry the woman who got killed.”
“Yeah, I know what happened. The whole town knows. In fact, if you ask me drinking is the least of his worries. It messed with his head. They call it PTSD these days. Didn’t have a fancy name for it back when I hit stateside from ’Nam. Now they study it. The Internet is full of sites that deal with
it.”
“It’s pretty serious. He’ll probably never be the same again.”
“No, probably not. I’ll go out, report back. Find out how bad the situation is.”
“You could stay for dinner. I’m too tired to cook. But I could nuke something in the microwave. I’ve got frozen veggie pizzas, the good kind Murphy stocks.”
Knowing Keegan was a strict vegetarian he knew there was no chance in hell of getting one with meat, but instead of giving her a hard time about it, he simply asked, “The one with the thick crust?”
“Yep. And four cheeses, too.”
“Tempting, but unlike you, I’ve got me a date with Betty Brinker. And Betty promised me homemade apple pie for dessert.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down.
Keegan bumped his shoulder and snickered. Betty Brinker had to be a good twelve years younger than Pete. “Is that what your generation calls it?”
“At least my generation is getting some dessert action,” Pete pointed out as he turned to leave.
“Okay, you’ve got a point,” she conceded as she walked him to the door. “But my life is too complicated right now for a relationship.”
Before pulling open the door he asked, “You never answered my question. When is the last time you had a real date? I’m not talking about the guy you went to school with that you accidentally bumped into in San Sebastian and spent an hour with him—catching up—drinking coffee.” He made a face.
“So I’m having a dry spell.”
“Keegan, there hasn’t been a dry spell on record like yours since the 1930s. They called it the Dust Bowl.”
Keegan playfully tapped him on the arm. “You mean since you were around back then to personally take notes?”
He took her chin in his hand and said, “My tough girl isn’t so tough. Keep up that sarcasm and you might convince me that veneer is what’s holding you up when it should be someone sharing your life. Just don’t sink too far into depression you can’t pull out. Porter and Mary wanted more for their girl than that. Got it?”
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