Come Home with Me

by Susan Fox

  “Lucky them.”

  “Yeah. Though Julian and I weren’t impressed at the time.”

  She nodded sympathetically. After that, she and Luke were quiet, dancing to two or three more songs. This felt strangely right, even though the mood wasn’t exactly romantic what with the family members all around them. Aaron and Eden were dancing, and Di and Seal. She’d seen Sonia and her brother-in-law Randall on the floor for a number or two, but now they were back at the table. Annie had finally lifted her head from her phone and she and Sonia were talking intently while Randall gazed toward the stage.

  The band started another number, a line dance. “Up for it?” Luke asked.

  “Not in these shoes. Next time I’ll have to borrow a pair of boots.”

  As they threaded their way off the dance floor, hand in hand, Luke said, “I need something cold to drink. Want anything?”

  “I’ve still got half a beer, but a club soda with lime and lots of ice would be wonderful.”

  “Back in a minute.”

  He headed for the bar, and she made her way, on pinched-toe feet, toward their table. Used to be, she could wear pointy toes for hours on end, but this was only the second or third time she’d worn them since she’d moved to the island.

  As she approached the table, Luke’s father-in-law rose and walked toward the hallway where the restrooms were located.

  Leaving her alone with Sonia and Annie. She was tempted to redirect her steps toward the bathroom, but didn’t want to look as if she was running away. So she rested her hand on her dragon, hidden below the tight sleeve of her black top, summoned her courage, and went to sit with the older women. Drawing a dramatic hand across her damp brow, she said, “Whew. It’s a while since I’ve been dancing. This is fun. Ms. Russo, your husband’s band is terrific.”

  As she’d hoped, the woman’s face lit. “It is, isn’t it?” But then her expression turned serious. “Call me Sonia. I’m no longer your teacher.”

  “You remember me from high school,” Miranda said resignedly. “I guess it’s hard to forget the only Goth girl. I probably should have tried to blend in. But I was acting out.”

  “Acting out of pain.”

  Surprised at the woman’s insightfulness, she said, “I guess. And anger.”

  “Life cut you a raw deal. You were unhappy.”

  Well, duh. She shrugged.

  “I taught your mother, too,” Sonia Russo said evenly.

  “Oh my God. I had no idea.” She studied the older woman more carefully, seeing that her glossy black hair and smooth olive skin looked more like nature than artifice. “You don’t look old enough.”

  “It was my first year.”

  Afraid to ask, but too curious not to, Miranda said, “Was she really messed up even then?”

  Sonia nodded. “Alcohol and drugs. More than just teen experimentation. I tried to help, but I was young. Inexperienced. She was having none of it.”

  “Thank you for trying.” She swallowed, remembering a brief conversation after class one day. “You did that with me, too. Invited me to talk to you about what was going on in my life. But you were a grown-up and I didn’t trust grown-ups, so I blew you off. I’m sorry about that.”

  The older woman gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’re not the first teen to do that, and you won’t be the last.”

  “To get back to the point,” Annie said. “Did you—”

  “Annie,” Sonia silenced her with the word and a head jerk.

  The last thing Miranda would have expected right now was to feel a smile rising, but she did, and pressed her lips together to hold it back. It seemed the two women had strategized this chat, agreeing that the more tactful Sonia would take the lead.

  “Yes, to return to the point,” Sonia said. “You weren’t happy as a teen, Miranda. Are you happy now?”

  “I . . .” Any impulse to smile died. Happy? What did that even mean?

  “It’s not that tough a question,” Sonia said quietly.

  “I just . . . Happy isn’t something I’ve thought about much.”

  “Here’s the thing,” Annie said, scraping her shaggy paprika-and-salt hair back from her face with both hands and leaning forward. “We—”

  “Annie,” Sonia broke in warningly.

  “No,” Luke’s mother-in-law said to her. “It’s my turn. This time, it’s better to say things my way.” She stared at Miranda, not with hostility but clinically, like a scientist examining a specimen. “We love Luke. We love Brandon and Caleb. We were all shattered when my daughter died. My grandsons and son-in-law deserve the best. Another woman like Candace. A woman who knows what it’s like to be happy, to be fulfilled, to love and give herself freely. If you’re going to date Luke, we need to know that you’re that kind of woman.” She turned her stare on Sonia. “There, I’ve said it my way and I’m done. Your turn.”

  “I’d have phrased it a little differently,” Luke’s mother said, “but I have nothing to add.”

  And then both women turned narrowed-eyed gazes toward Miranda.

  She didn’t have the faintest clue how to respond. Because they were right. Luke and his boys deserved a woman like Candace. And Miranda wasn’t that woman. She didn’t know what happiness and fulfilment felt like. It didn’t matter that she’d had a crappy childhood. She was who she was, and it wasn’t good enough. It never had been.

  “Hey,” Luke said, coming up behind her and setting a glass of fizzy water on the table. “What’s everyone talking about?”

  She picked up the glass, ice cubes clinking, and took a long slug while Sonia not so subtly elbowed Annie and said, “Oh, just girl talk. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Luke finished vaccinating a sixteen-week-old calico kitten named Patchwork. He told the owner, Ms. Fitzpatrick, the head librarian at their tiny island library, “That’s the last set of shots. She’s good to go for now. You’ll want to bring her back at six months to get her spayed, unless you’re planning on kittens.”

  “I don’t think I could handle kittens in the plural,” the woman, stick-thin with short-cropped gray hair, said wryly. “I’ll make that appointment before I leave. By the way, we’re starting a spring story hour for preschoolers. I’m emailing a notice this afternoon. Your boys might be interested.”

  “If the reader could make Brandon sit still long enough to listen, it would be a miracle. But we’ll give it a try. Thanks, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”

  He glanced at his watch, confirming that it was almost noon. Today he was having lunch with Viola Cruickshank, who lived just down the road from the clinic. She was back from her Veterinarians Without Borders assignment in Tanzania, and they planned to catch up over soup and sandwiches.

  “Luke.” It was Crystal, his assistant, at the door, her chunky body clad in the same kind of blue scrubs he wore, and her medium-brown hair in its usual stubby ponytail. In a calm voice, she said, “We have an emergency. A rabbit that was hit by a car.”

  “We’re just finished here,” he told her. “But would you please call Viola and tell her I’ve been delayed?”

  Ms. Fitzpatrick cuddled her kitten, its furriness a contrast to her stark, tailored lines. “That poor creature. People should drive more carefully.”

  He nodded in agreement.

  “At least it wasn’t a hit-and-run,” Crystal said as the three of them walked down the hall. “The driver brought the rabbit in and she’s really distraught.”

  “I hope you can save the creature’s life, Dr. Chandler,” Ms. Fitzpatrick said.

  “I hope so, too.”

  The waiting room was empty but for a blond-haired woman perched on the edge of a chair, huddled over a fluffy purple bundle on her lap. Her shoulders were bare but for the thin straps of a tank top, skimpy clothing for a crisp March day. No doubt she’d been wearing the sweater she’d used to wrap up the rabbit.

  As Ms. Fitzpatrick slipped out the front door, Luke’s gaze fixed on the dragon tattoo on the blonde’s bar
e forearm, and he realized it was Miranda. He hadn’t seen her in a couple weeks, not since the night they’d gone dancing. The night that had ended early, with her pleading tiredness and avoiding his attempt at a good-night kiss.

  He’d texted twice to ask if she and Ariana would like to get together with him and the boys, but each time she’d replied that she was too busy. There’d been a curtness to those texts that sent a clear signal. Either he’d done something wrong, or she’d decided she wasn’t interested in him. Maybe both. Taking her to a dance where the whole community, not to mention his mom, stepdad, and in-laws, were watching probably hadn’t been the smartest move. Or maybe she’d decided he wasn’t sexy or exciting enough. When he’d told her about how his mom and Forbes got together, perhaps Miranda had decided that a happy ending was possible for a groupie who was attracted to a band member, and she was going to hold out for that.

  But now here she was, and it seemed she was the driver who’d hit a rabbit. “Miranda?”

  Her head lifted and she jumped to her feet, white-faced and wide-eyed. “Luke, it’s a bunny. It leaped out in front of the car and there was no way I could stop. I swerved but I still clipped it. It was trying to run away but it couldn’t, and it was all bloody, just staring up at me.” She held out the fluffy purple bundle, with a terrified rabbit face and two long ears sticking out.

  Gently he transferred the wrapped-up creature to his own arms, feeling its trembling through the wool sweater. Chattering teeth confirmed that it was afraid and in pain. He had enough clients with pet rabbits, and had treated enough injured wild ones, to be attuned to rabbit body language.

  “Where’s Ariana?” he asked. “Is she in the car?” If so, he only hoped the child seat had supported her when the car braked and swerved.

  “No, thank heavens.” Her body trembled as badly as the rabbit’s, and she wrapped her arms around herself like she was holding herself together. She looked fragile, vulnerable, and he felt a powerful urge to put his arms around her and offer warmth and comfort. He resisted as she went on. “Di sent me to the hardware store and she and Seal are babysitting.”

  “Good. Okay, I’ll take a look at this little guy. Or gal. Crystal, can you find something warmer for Miranda? Long-sleeved scrubs, or there’s an old flannel shirt in my office.”

  “I have a nice cozy cardigan,” his always-efficient assistant said.

  “Luke, can I come in with you?” Miranda asked.

  A good idea. He could keep an eye on her, since she was exhibiting symptoms of shock. “Once you put that sweater on.” He smiled at Crystal. “Thanks for that. I’ll call you if I need you.”

  Then he hurried into the examination room where he washed his hands, put on gloves, and carefully unwrapped the sweater from around the rabbit.

  Miranda slipped into the room, draped in a heavy grayish-brown cardigan that was about six sizes too big for her. Her skin looked, if such a thing was possible, even paler than before, her eyes seemed unfocused, and she was still shaking.

  “You were wearing a seat belt?” he asked.

  “Y-yes.”

  “The airbag didn’t deploy? You didn’t hit your head?”

  “No, I’m f-fine. It’s the . . . the bunny.”

  Reassured that she wasn’t concussed, he said, “Sit down and drop your head between your knees. Leave it there until you stop feeling cold and shaky.”

  “What?” She sounded dazed.

  “You’re suffering from shock. Don’t want you passing out on me.”

  Silently she obeyed.

  He began his examination of the rabbit, and after a few minutes she came to stand beside him. A quick glance told him she no longer seemed to be in danger of keeling over, and she didn’t seem nauseous at the sight of all the blood. So he ignored her and carried on.

  Finally he said, “We’re in luck. This little guy—he’s a boy—is going to make it. He’s got a broken leg and some nasty lacerations, but I don’t think he’s suffered any internal injuries. I’ll have to set the leg and put a cast on, and stitch up the cuts. Would you mind going out and telling Crystal I need her to assist?”

  “Could I do it?” she asked in a small voice.

  It would go quicker with Crystal, but he could see this was important to Miranda. “Sure. Wash up and put on a pair of gloves. Then I’ll need you to hold down Junior, gently but firmly, until I get him sedated. Avoid getting too close to his mouth. He’s scared and hurting and might bite you.”

  She obeyed, and then as she held the rabbit, Luke readied his supplies.

  He put the rabbit to sleep with a low dose of sedative, not telling Miranda that rabbits were more sensitive, and responded less predictably, to sedatives than dogs and cats. Monitoring the creature carefully, he went to work on the leg, occasionally asking Miranda to hand him something or hold something for him.

  She was quiet beside him, not interrupting to ask questions and, when he darted an occasional glance at her face, she looked intent rather than upset.

  When the leg had been cast, he went to work on the cuts, gently moving the rabbit a couple of times to reach everything. It wasn’t long before all the gashes had been cleaned thoroughly, treated with antibiotic ointment, sutured as needed, and dressed.

  “What happens now?” Miranda asked. “He can’t go back out in nature.”

  “We’ll keep him here. Monitor his progress, make sure he gets proper nutrition and exercise until he’s ready to return home. Where did this happen, Miranda? I’d like to take him back to where you, uh, found him.”

  “Hit him,” she said flatly, staring at the unconscious rabbit as it lay on the table. “Don’t gloss over it. It was across from the llama farm. I feel terrible, Luke. I do watch out for rabbits and squirrels and deer, because they’re always darting onto the road. I wasn’t speeding, I swear.”

  “Hey.” He waited until she looked up at him. “I believe you. Sometimes there’s no avoiding it. I’m just glad you didn’t go off the road, and glad Ariana wasn’t with you. And also that you stopped and rescued this little guy and brought him here.”

  “Of course I would.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “I couldn’t leave him lying there.”

  A lot of people would have. He was really glad she wasn’t one of them.

  The rabbit was stirring, coming out from the anesthetic. “He’s not going to be happy when he discovers he won’t be able to hop for a while,” Luke said.

  “Poor bunny. But he will be able to, won’t he? After he heals? He won’t be crippled and more vulnerable to predators?”

  “No, he should be as good as new.”

  He should call Crystal and have her take the rabbit to a recovery cage and keep an eye on it. He’d have to phone Viola to apologize and reschedule lunch. And he needed to grab a snack from the clinic’s fridge, because the first afternoon patient would arrive any minute.

  But here was Miranda, in this small room with him, looking so damned appealing in that huge, dirt-colored sweater, her blue eyes full of concern for the injured rabbit. He couldn’t let her go before asking for clarification. “I got the feeling from your texts that you don’t want to go out with me again. Is that true?”

  She ducked her head, looking young and vulnerable. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “Why not?” She’d seemed to be having a good time, dancing with him. Then he’d gone to get drinks, and when he brought them back to the table, she’d said she was tired and wanted to leave. It didn’t make sense. Except . . . An image formed in his mind and he remembered she’d been talking to his mother and mother-in-law. Girl talk, supposedly. “Did Mom or Annie say something?”

  “They . . . they just care about you and the boys.” Her shoulders shrugged. “They want to make sure you’re happy.”

  That didn’t give them the right to judge Miranda, or try to scare her off. Damn it, his relatives were reasonable, caring people and he’d trusted them to be polite. No, more than that, to be nice to his friend, to make her feel welco
me. “I’m really sorry,” he said grimly. “And, for the record, being with you made me happy.” Surely his mom and mother-in-law had seen that. “Didn’t it make you happy?”

  Slowly she looked up at him. The dingy cardigan made her faded-denim eyes look even bluer. “Happy? There’s that word again.”

  He had no clue what she meant. “You didn’t like being with me?”

  “I did, Luke. I really did.”

  And that didn’t translate, in her mind, to happiness? It must be a woman thing. He was more proficient in reading rabbit body language than in understanding the female brain. Rather than ask her to explain some esoteric distinction he likely wouldn’t grasp anyhow, he got to the point. “Then go out with me again. See if you like it.”

  Her lips curved at the corners. “Is it really that easy?”

  “Why shouldn’t it be? Don’t let Mom and Annie get to you. They were out of line and I’m damned well going to tell them.”

  “No!” Her smile vanished. “Please don’t. That’ll only reflect badly on me.”

  He frowned, not understanding.

  She pulled off Crystal’s sweater. “I need to get back to SkySong.”

  “Okay, but will you go out with me again? Me and the kids, or just me. Whatever you want.”

  “I . . . I’ll think about it.” She cast a glance at the now-restless rabbit, which he was gently restraining with both hands. Her gaze lingered, and then she sighed and turned on heel. “I’ll pay the bill for the bunny’s treatment on my way out.”

  “No, Miranda, there’s no need to—”

  But she was gone, closing the door to the examining room behind her. He sighed and buzzed Crystal, telling her to give Miranda a discounted rate but not let on that she was doing it. He’d have happily done the work for free, but he guessed that would annoy Miranda, with her stubborn pride.

  * * *

  This, Miranda thought, was exactly what she needed. A playdate. A couple of hours with a nice woman her own age, sipping lattés and eating Glory’s orange-almond biscotti and the chocolate chip cookies Miranda had brought. Their two black-haired girls happily chattered and screeched over Monster Bowling on the playroom floor at Glory’s house. The children seemed to have bonded, and Miranda hoped the same would happen with her and the petite Chinese Canadian woman sitting beside her at the bar-stooled island that faced into the playroom.