by Peggy Jaeger
For the next few hours, they worked side by side, tending to the horses. Moira was happy to lose herself in the manual labor needed to clean and care for the stalls, feed the animals, and make sure the stock was updated. Her hands and arms were strong from the countless hours she used them playing the piano, but the auxiliary muscle groups in her legs and back, got a real workout as well. When they were done, Moira helped load one of the horses into a carrier set to be delivered back to its farm and owner.
“I’m going to run him up to the Jamison Farm,” Quentin told her. “I pass right by your house. Want a lift home? Or have you made arrangements to be picked up?”
“No, I’d appreciate a ride, thanks. It’ll save Mom or Steps from having to come get me.”
She hopped into the cab of his truck while he spoke with Connor about a few things that needed doing while he was gone. When he climbed in next to her, he glanced over and asked, “All set?”
She nodded.
“You got any plans for Friday night?” Quentin asked a few minutes into the drive.
“No, why? What’s happening Friday night?”
He slanted a look at her. “A few years ago you would know what happens on Friday night. I guess you’re still a little jetlagged.”
“Don’t be snide. The days tend to run together when you’re on tour. A new country every few days, a different airport every week. I tend to lose track of the actual day.”
Without taking his eyes off the road, he said, “Fridays the movies change. It’ll be a whole new crop at the theater. Why don’t I check with Pat, see if he has any plans. Maybe the three of us can take in a flick. It’ll be like old times.”
She stared over at him and saw him smile.
“Huge tub of buttered popcorn, a quart of soda, some of those gross candies you love that always stick to your teeth.”
Moira expected her stomach to spasm at the mention of all the junk food and was pleasantly surprised when it didn’t. “I haven’t been to a movie in a couple of years,” she said. “I don’t even know what’s popular and what isn’t anymore.”
Quentin sighed theatrically. “Guess we’ll need to get you up to snuff then. I’ll check with Pat. We can decide what we want to see tomorrow. Sound good to you?”
She wanted to tell him it sounded like heaven but instead said, “Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Seven
Moira stared down at the text she’d received from Clarissa Rogers. Parasite confirmed, continue on meds. Return visit in 10 days. No arguments.
She rubbed a hand across her stomach thinking it had been over 24 hours since she’d experienced any pain or cramps. She’d even been able to eat her first “normal” breakfast of cereal and tea.
After two full days of working at the clinic, plus the first afternoon, side by side with Quentin and Connor, Moira was beginning to feel somewhat normal again herself. She wasn’t as jumpy or nervous, and when Quentin touched her, as he did often, she no longer flinched anxiously. Her appetite was still off, but she’d been able to eat small amounts of Serena’s delicious dinners without feeling as if her stomach would implode with pain afterward. With her days busy at the clinic, being outdoors in the glorious spring air exercising the horses and then cleaning their stalls, she’d been able to sleep through the past two nights without waking in pain, or with panicked dreams from the simple exhaustion good manual labor afforded her. She could look at herself in the mirror again and not see a ghost stare back.
The past few months on tour were beginning to fade from her memory, as each day she felt her body and soul grow stronger. She hadn’t played her beloved piano yet, and still didn’t feel the desire to, but knew with time, she’d get back to it.
“You shirking off?” Quentin asked, as he came into the stall.
Moira flipped her phone closed, shoved it in the back pocket of her scrub pants, and said, “Just answering a text from Dr. Rogers.”
Quentin came up next to her and rubbed a hand down her back. “Everything okay?”
The velvety soft touch of his hand as it moved up and down her spine was equal parts soothing and enervating. A tingle of something unfamiliar tickled through her insides and shot straight down to her toes.
“Yeah. My cultures came back and she was able to confirm I did pick up an intestinal bug and the antibiotics she has me on should help.”
“Good to know. I haven’t seen you sneak any antacids for a while now, so the meds must be working.”
Moira’s eyebrow shot up. “I wasn’t sneaking antacids,” she said.
“Don’t jump down my throat,” he told her, throwing his hands up and grinning. “I saw you palming them the first day you were here. I’m just glad you have an answer for why you’ve been in so much pain, and I’m doubly glad because now I know I can work you to the bone without feeling any guilt about it.”
Moira stared at his wicked grin and dancing sea green eyes and had to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing. She should have been embarrassed he’d caught her taking the pills. But she wasn’t. She was happy to have at least one answer for the pain and know the treatment was working. And she was happy just to be at the clinic.
“I should have pretended to still be sick,” she told him turning back to the horse and brushing its mane. “At least you’d take a little pity on me then, and not treat me like such a slave. An unpaid slave.”
Quentin ignored her comments, instead giving his attention to the examination of the horse she was grooming. “You take her out yet today?”
Moira glanced over and saw concern in his eyes. “This morning. We went down to the lake and back. She seemed fine. Why?”
“Her breathing seems a little more labored than it was earlier.” He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck, plugged the ends into his ears, and listened to the horse’s chest. A moment later he said, “Heart rate’s way too fast, and I hear some junk in her lungs I know wasn’t there before. I think she may be going into failure.” He called for Connor and asked him to bring over a syringe and some blood collection tubes.
For the next few minutes, Moira watched him deftly withdraw blood from the horse and then inject a syringe full of medication into the mare’s rump.
“What did you give her, a diuretic?” Moira asked.
He looked over at her and shook his head. “Sometimes I forget how much you know about this stuff.”
“Well?”
“Yeah, I gave her a mild one. I want to listen to her again in about fifteen minutes. Will you stay with her, see how she does? I’ve got the other two to examine, but I’ll be back.”
“No worries.” Moira rubbed Crystal’s forelock and, in a soothing voice, hummed the Chopin piece currently playing above them.
True to his word, fifteen minutes later he was back. Stethoscope in place, he listened to Crystal’s lungs and heart rate. Moira’s eyes never left his face during the exam. She knew his expressions as well as she knew her own. The way his smooth brow furrowed into two thick lines, and the corners of his mouth turned downward, she knew the horse wasn’t responding to the treatment.
“I’m going to give her a few more things,” Quentin said, “see if I can get her heart rate down and clear those lungs up a little.”
“If you need me I can stay”
“Thanks, M. I could use your help. You remember how to inject?”
“I think daddy taught me the same day he taught you,” she said dryly.
“I think you’re right. Here’s what I want you to do.”
Together, the two of them worked diligently on Crystal, Connor moving into and out of the stall whenever Quentin requested another medication. Every five minutes he listened to Crystal’s heart and lungs and after an hour Moira was relieved when a smile finally returned to his face.
“She’s a lot clearer,” he said, patting the horse’s hindquarter. “Everything seems to be working.”
Moira swiped at an unexpected tear shimmering in the corner of her eye. Quentin gave the horse an
other pat and then came around the stall to hug her. “I never forget what a softie you are,” he whispered, squeezing her.
“I could never do what you and Pat do,” she admitted, sinking into the comfort his arms gave, without thought. “I’m a basket case with just this. I know I couldn’t handle it if one of the animals was badly hurt or even died. I just know I couldn’t. You two are so much better at this than I ever could be.”
Quentin’s chuckle drubbed up from his chest. The soft rumbling made Moira’s insides tingle again, the sound so masculine and sensual.
“We all have our talents,” he told her, kissing her temple while his hands continued rubbing her back. “I’m glad you were here to help. I think she’ll be better now. I’m going to keep her here a day longer than I’d planned to monitor her.”
Moira nodded. “I can stay longer if you want me to. Help out anyway I can.”
Quentin shook his head and said, “Oh no, M. Tonight’s movie night. Pat and I already discussed it.”
“But don’t you have to keep an eye on Crystal?”
“I will until quitting time. Then I’ve got my night crew coming in. There’ll always be someone here and I’ll get called if anything changes. The three of us deserve a break. I know I do, and I’ve got to get your movie skills back up to par. Who will I pair with when we play Trivial Pursuit if you don’t know what’s going on pop-culture-wise?”
Moira had forgotten her promise to go out to the movies. She’d been so wrapped up in waiting for the results of her tests and in caring for the horses; she’d paid no mind to the time or the day. But having Quentin remind her of their planned outing, she realized she was looking forward to it more than she’d looked forward to something in quite a long time.
“I’ve got Mom’s car, so I’ll head on home. What time should I be ready?”
“First showing’s always at seven,” he told her. “Either Pat or I will pick you up at six-thirty. Okay? We’ll all get something to eat after.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she told him.
****
“Just like old times,” Serena said, sitting on Moira’s bed and watching while she got dressed for the evening. “The three of you going out to the movies on a Friday night.”
“You realize I’m probably going to have to sit through two hours of a gory, slasher movie,” Moira said, buttoning her blouse. “There’s no way those two will go to a comedy or anything remotely resembling a chick flick.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing, I remember you like slasher movies.”
She laughed freely. “It’s true, but I’ll still probably give them a hard time for choosing one.” She sat at her vanity and began brushing her hair out from its braid.
Serena stood, crossed to her daughter, and took the brush from her hand. Grooming the hair that so resembled her own, she said, “You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t giving them a hard time about something. Those two tortured you enough growing up, and though I know you can hold your own and always could, they still need to be taken down a peg or two at times. And I’m so glad you’re home to do it.” She hugged her daughter warmly. Looking at their reflections in the mirror, she added, “You look better, Baby. Skinny, but better.”
Moira rolled her eyes. “Why is everyone around here so concerned with my weight? I’m not so skinny. Quentin doesn’t think I am.”
“For you, you are,” Serena said. “And Quentin’s not your mother.”
From the open window, they both heard the sound of a truck pulling up. Serena glanced out and said, “Speaking of…”
Moira looked at her watch and said, “Right on time as always. Guy’s as predictable as rain.”
Before leaving her room Moira swallowed one of the antibiotics she was due to take in a few minutes and out of habit wanted to throw the antacid tabs in her purse, but refrained from doing so.
“Don’t wait up,” Moira told Serena at the front door before hugging her goodbye. “Q said the three of us would go out for a bite to eat after the movie. I don’t know what time I’ll be home.”
“Moira, you’re twenty-eight years old. I stopped waiting up for you when you went off to college.”
With a hug and a grin, Moira said, “Now there’s a lie and you know it.”
Serena merely smiled.
Moira dashed down the porch steps and ran out to Quentin’s truck. She couldn’t have been more surprised if she tried, when Quentin hopped out of his side of the cab and came around to open her door for her.
He was dressed casually in well fitting jeans and a button down shirt, a deep black sports jacket over it. If it was possible, his shoulders looked wider and bigger than when she’d seen him two hours ago. He’d showered, the hair at his collar still damp and darker blond than the rest. When he moved around her to open the cab door, Moira’s nose tickled with the musky, woodsy scent coming from him. Her stomach did the little tickle thing it was starting to do with increasing regularity whenever he was around and she smiled up at him while he held the door for her.
“Seems you’ve learned some social graces in your elder years,” she said, as he helped her up into the cab.
“Just for that crack I’ll make you get out on your own.”
Once he was back behind the wheel, she asked, “Is Pat meeting us?”
“Yeah. He called me as I was heading out, said he had a few things to finish up but he’d meet us outside in the lobby before the movie starts.”
“Did you two decide on what to see?”
Quentin turned and smiled his lazy smile right at her and Moira began to wonder how she’d ever survived the days she hadn’t seen it.
“We figured since you haven’t been to a movie in a while we should get you caught up on the newest trends.”
“I don’t like the way this is sounding.”
“After careful deliberation your brother and I decided we would see Slasher 3.”
“Let me guess. You’re both big fans of 1 and 2?”
“They’re classics, M.” His grin grew wider as he pulled into downtown traffic. “You’re gonna love it.”
“I probably will,” she said, swallowing her laughter.
For a Friday night, it was surprisingly easy to find a parking spot behind the movie theater. Just to test the waters, Moira sat in her seat to see if Quentin would stick to his statement about letting her get out on her own. He alighted from the truck and came around to her side.
When he opened her door, she laughed and said, “I figured you’d cave.” She grabbed her purse and sweater and stood from the cab.
“For that, you’re getting your own popcorn. I’m not sharing with you.” He stuck his hands in his jacket pockets and started walking.
Moira laughed out loud again and wound her arm into his, making him slow down so she could match their strides. Just as they got to the front of the movie theater Quentin’s phone pinged. “It’s Pat,” he said reading the text. “He got called out to the Jamison Farm. Seems they have a cow ready to calf and Jamison is panicking. He says to go in without him and hopefully he’ll catch up with us after the movie.”
“I can see why you two don’t have much of a social life,” Moira said while she waited for him to get their tickets.
“Hey, Dr. Stapleton,” the ticket girl said.
“Sally. How’s Jay doing?”
Her smile lit up the small ticket window. “So much better. You are truly a miracle worker. Daddy says we should try and steal you away from the clinic so you can work only for us.”
Quentin’s shoulders shook a few times as he took his wallet out of his pocket. “Glad I could help.”
“So, what are you seeing?” she asked.
“Two for Slasher 3.”
“Oh my God, it’s such a good movie. I’ve seen it three times. Watch out for the carnival guy.” Her brown eyes widened. “Huge plot twist.” She handed him the tickets, and snuck a glance at Moira.
“Thanks for the heads up,” he said taking the tickets from her.
“You’re gonna love it.” Her eyes once again traveled to Moira and she knew she was being silently appraised as those brown orbs raked her from hairline to toes. “See you around,” she said to Quentin.
He smiled at her over his shoulder and took Moira’s arm, leading her into the movie theater.
He handed over the tickets to the inside vendor and Moira asked, “One of your many fans?”
“Her dad’s a client,” he said with a shrug.
“I’ll bet she’s wishing she was one of your patients.”
As they walked up to the vending station, Quentin turned to her and said, “What?”
“Come on, Q, you’re not blind, and you’re not stupid. The girl’s got a serious case of the hots for you.”
His mouth opened wide, his hand stopped in motion as he took his wallet out again. “What? Jesus, what is she, fifteen? Come on, Moira.”
With a smile, she said, “She may be fifteen on the outside but believe me, when she was looking at you it was with the eyes of a female in serious lust.”
“Okay, that’s just plain wrong on so many levels.”
“You really don’t see it, do you?” Her head cocked to one side as her eyes considered him.
“Now what are you talking about?” Their turn came, and Quentin ordered.
While they were waiting she said, “I don’t know how you and my brother can be best friends, and so alike in practically everything but this one area. Pat’s radar where girls are concerned has always been hyper charged. You suffer from severe battery depletion.”
He handed her a soda and took the huge bucket of popcorn and his own soda with him into their designated theater.
“I’m trying to decide if I should be insulted, but I can’t, since I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about.”
When they found seating in the crowded theater, she said, “You look like a god, you work with animals—which is always a plus to females—you’re witty, kind, charming and sweet. And you still can’t tell when a girl has the hots for you. Unlike my brother, who is all of those things as well, but always knows when a girl is interested.”
