Love to Believe: Fireflies ~ Book 2

by Lisa Ricard Claro

  Rebecca watched Emma fold her lithe body into the sports car and drive away.

  “Girl needs to turn those headlights down,” Brenna said, and it took a moment for Rebecca to realize she wasn’t talking about Emma’s car.

  “Who is—” Rebecca began, staring after the Miata.

  “Emma Rayburn. Her dad used to work with my dad, and Sean hired her on part-time as a favor. She’s prelaw at UNG. He gives her mostly busywork, stuff Mrs. M doesn’t feel like doing. She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?”

  Rebecca frowned. It just figured Sean had a Nordic goddess working for him.

  “How old is she?” Maddie asked as they continued down the block.

  “Good question. I’m really not sure. She’s been crushing on Sean forever, though, and she sure looks legal to me. Hold on.” Her lips drew up in a mischievous grin. “I’ll find out.”

  Brenna wrestled her phone from the pocket of her snug jeans and dialed. “Hey, Sean,” she said few seconds later. “I just saw Emma coming out of your office. She looked like her clothes were painted on.” Brenna chuckled at Sean’s reply. “Has she conned you into dating her yet? She said she’s meeting up with you later, so I thought maybe—” After a couple beats, she burst out laughing. “Yeah, okay. You’re off the hook. Go back to your bench presses. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.” She clicked off the call and tucked her phone back into her pocket, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “He said he can’t control her wardrobe, and he won’t date any woman who has ever had the poor judgment to pay good money for a Justin Bieber concert.”

  “Why’s he meeting her later?” Maddie said, and Rebecca wanted to kiss her for asking.

  “She’s running by his house to pick up some old law journals he said she could have. No juicy gossip, ladies. Sorry.”

  They continued their trek with their eyes peeled for any sign of Mr. Peabody, but the cat remained unfound. Shivering, the trio of women raced up the driveway and into Rebecca’s house to escape the cold.

  “I need a margarita,” Brenna said the minute she stepped into the house.

  “Wouldn’t something hot be better?” Maddie asked, unzipping her jacket. “I’m not sure a frozen beverage is the smartest choice right now.”

  “Sure it is,” Brenna said. “The tequila will warm us right up and help numb Rebecca’s misery over her missing cat.”

  Brenna was half right, Rebecca thought hours later after the women had left. She lay in bed with tears streaming over her temples and into her hair. The house felt lonely without Mr. Peabody, the bed cold where his furry body should have been curled against her. The ache in her chest radiated to her stomach, and she battled nausea at the mental image of Mr. Peabody hunkered down under a bush out in the night cold, alone and afraid, maybe even hurt.

  The blame rested on her shoulders because she hadn’t shut the damn door.

  The tears spent themselves and she lay sniffling, listening to the howling of the North Georgia wind and the scritch-scratching on her bedroom window from the branches of an overgrown pine. Unable to sleep, she slid from bed and donned her shoes and coat, grabbed the flashlight from the top of the fridge, and walked the perimeter of her yard for what felt to be the hundredth time. She willed Mr. Peabody to appear, but he remained absent.

  Rebecca stood shivering on her porch and looked out over her yard and across the street. A black car sat parked under a spreading maple tree, obscured by the darkness and ominous in the opaque night. She’d never noticed the vehicle before, knew it didn’t belong to any of the neighbors. She stared at it, strained to see if someone sat inside, and jumped when the engine growled to life. Remaining dark, the car drove off at a prowler’s pace. The headlights didn’t snap on until it turned the corner and sped away.

  Telling herself to stop being paranoid, she shuddered against the gusting wind and moved the flashlight in a slow arc over her yard once again, peering beneath her Civic and under bushes, praying to spy the glow of Mr. Peabody’s green eyes.

  A great-horned owl hooted from somewhere in a neighboring yard and its mate called back, its reply eerie in the night. The wind howled and the trees shivered. With a miserable sigh, Rebecca went back inside and slid the deadbolt home.

  Chapter 7

  Flyers posted all over town generated no sightings of Mr. Peabody. As the weeks sped by Rebecca mourned his loss, certain that her fat feline was gone for good. She continued to search for him, but her hopes plummeted with the first dusting of winter snow, and she prayed for his shelter and safety. She had only one Christmas wish, to find him safe and sound on her porch, meowing to come in. With only a few days left until Christmas, her hope flagged.

  She tugged her sweater over her head, pausing at the sound of her front door opening and closing. She and Sean had been spending so much time together they had exchanged house keys for convenience, and it took effort for her not to read more into that mutual gesture than she knew was intended. They had agreed that neither of them would ever stay the night with the other—waking up together offered a level of intimacy not supported by their arrangement—and having keys provided each of them the ability to leave without waking the other to lock up behind them.

  No strings, no drama, no questions. Just goodbye. She repeated it by rote. Best not to forget it.

  “Hey, Xena, you have any chocolate chip cookies left?”

  Rebecca smiled at the sound of Sean’s voice and tugged her sweater down before calling back, “You cleaned me out last night.”

  “Brownies? Cupcakes? Anything?”

  Rebecca tied her hair back on her way down the hall and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen with her hands on her hips to watch Sean poke through her pantry. “You PMSing, Counselor?”

  “Funny.”

  “That stuff’s not good for you. It’s a wonder you aren’t big as a house.”

  “Blah, blah, blah,” he said and continued his search. “Aha! Ding-Dongs. I knew you were holding out on me.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Those are a hundred years old. Better check the use-by date.”

  “That’s not a real date.” Sean broke open the box. “It’s just a suggestion. You want one?”

  “Not a chance.”

  He shrugged and tore the cellophane wrapper off the chocolate snack and rewarded himself with a healthy bite while Rebecca regarded him with a grin and shaking of her head.

  “How’s the résumé search going? Any possible candidates?” Sean licked a chunk of chocolate and sugary cream from his lips. “And have you told your brother what you’re doing yet?”

  “Yes, I talked to Caleb and he’s bummed, but he understands. I’m still reviewing résumés. There are a few likely candidates, so I’ll set up interviews after the first of the year.”

  Rebecca watched Sean devour the treat, thinking it was unfair for the man to look so sexy even with chocolate crumbs stuck to his chin. She stepped toward him and cleaned him up with a swipe of her thumbs and, in the next moment, became the recipient of a deep and thorough kiss. “Mm.” She slid her arms around his neck. “You taste all chocolaty.”

  He rubbed her nose with his. “What woman can resist Chocolate Man?”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes and smiled in spite of her effort to the contrary. “Chocolate Man? That is seriously lame, Sean. Does TJ know about your new identity? He may be disappointed. He likes you as a monster.”

  “I’ll break it to him Christmas Eve. Oh, hey, I brought your mail in.” He nodded toward the envelopes on the counter. “Looks like you got an invite to something.”

  Rebecca stepped from Sean’s embrace and went through the mail, dropping everything in favor of a thick envelope addressed with fancy calligraphy.

  “My college roomie is getting married in a couple weeks.” Rebecca looked at the outside envelope and frowned. “I’ve been expecting this. Took long enough to get here. The postmark says November. Works out for me, though. I missed the RSVP date, and she can’t get mad at me for not going if I got the invite late, right?”
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br />   “Are you two close?”

  “As close as two people can be who live nearly a thousand miles apart. So?”

  Sean frowned. “Why don’t you want to go?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “I hate to disappoint Andrea, but I’m thirty, the only one of my friends still single, and would be flying solo. You know how it goes with weddings. There’s always someone trying to fix you up. It’s uncomfortable.”

  “Excuse me.” Sean nudged her shoulder with his and tapped her nose with a gentle finger. “You don’t have to fly solo. I’ll go with you if you need a date.”

  Rebecca raised her brows. “Are you serious? Isn’t that going above and beyond our arrangement?”

  “Actually, it’s part of the reason for the arrangement, for the exact reason you mentioned. To alleviate those uncomfortable situations.”

  Rebecca’s lips curved upward and she read the invitation a second time. “The wedding is the second weekend in January at the hotel and spa Andrea’s father owns on Amelia Island down in Florida. It’s right on the beach. Too bad they’re getting married in January and not June.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s going to be cold. Guests arriving on Friday are treated to a buffet dinner and Saturday brunch. The wedding is late Saturday afternoon. So you’re game?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Rebecca took Sean’s face between her hands and rewarded his amiable acceptance with a smacking kiss on the lips. “Chocolate Man, you can have access to my Ding-Dongs anytime.”

  He grinned, and leaned in for another kiss. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you.”

  ***

  The Christmas and New Year celebrations came and went and, as near as Rebecca could tell, neither her family nor Sean’s had picked up on their relationship. They took care to avoid each other during family get-togethers, but maintaining distance in close company took effort.

  The most uncomfortable situation had occurred when Edie pointed out that they were standing under the mistletoe on New Year’s Eve and insisted they kiss in the spirit of celebration.

  The resultant smooch, witnessed by all, resembled nothing beyond a chaste brush of their lips, but Rebecca’s cheeks had flamed nonetheless.

  “Auntie Becca, how come your face is all red?” TJ had bellowed.

  Rebecca’s blush deepened as Sean laughed outright. “Yeah, Xena, how come?”

  She envisioned strangling them both, but eased her embarrassment by scooping TJ into her arms and delivering kisses all over his face so she could counter in a sing-song voice, “TJ, how come your face is all red?” Thus began a wriggling struggle for freedom by TJ and an easy segue into their monster game.

  Moment diffused, embarrassment neutralized.

  Now, a few days past the holidays, Rebecca sat in the construction office going over contracts and zoning applications. She’d been sidetracked by an early morning doctor visit to follow up on a bout of bronchitis.

  “Another round of antibiotics should clear it up,” the doc had promised.

  After that, the morning flew, and she worked through lunch, happy for the break provided when her cell phone rang.

  “Rebecca? This is Darrilyn Jones with Bright Hills Veterinary Clinic. I believe we’ve got your cat.”

  Rebecca’s heart jumped into her throat and she sat up from her slouch. “How’d you find him?”

  “Someone brought him in. I recognized him, and we scanned his chip to be sure.”

  Relief flooded through Rebecca and she jumped from her seat, smiling and giddy. “I’m on my way. Is he okay? He’s been gone for weeks and I thought—sorry, I’m babbling.” She laughed and grabbed her purse and her keys. “I’m just so happy you found him.”

  “One of our other clients found him, ma’am.” The woman’s heavy sigh stopped Rebecca’s forward motion. “He’s been hit by a car. He’s alive, but he sustained serious injuries. You’ll want to talk to Dr. McManus when you get here. She can give you details.”

  “But he’s alive, right? He’s alive?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s alive.”

  Rebecca locked up the office and raced to her car, heart pounding. The drive to the veterinarian’s office was a blur, and her Civic jolted to a hard stop when she parked. She ran into the office, blinking back tears. Her stomach roiled, knotted with fear for Mr. Peabody.

  “Darrilyn?” She said to the woman seated behind the counter.

  Darrilyn’s smooth cocoa skin wrinkled along her forehead and her dark eyes welled with sympathy as she stood. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I’ll show you to a room.”

  Rebecca paced in the examining room and wrinkled her nose against the biting smell of antiseptic. She glanced at the photos of dogs and cats that hung on the walls, without taking note of them, and gulped hard against the lump in her throat. The struggle to keep her tears at bay caused a headache behind her eyes. When the door opened, she spun around, disappointed that the woman facing her did not have Mr. Peabody in her arms.

  Dr. McManus held her hand out. “I’m sorry about Mr. Peabody.”

  Rebecca caught it in both of her own and said with desperation, “Can I see him?”

  Dr. McManus used her free hand to squeeze Rebecca’s shoulder with gentle pressure. “I have him sedated. He’s comfortable now and not in any pain.”

  The words, spoken with infinite kindness, held a wealth of meaning when combined with the sympathy in the doctor’s brown eyes.

  Rebecca’s tears welled and Traci McManus’s face became a mocha blur. “He’s not coming home with me, is he?”

  “I’m sorry, Rebecca. His injuries are extensive.”

  “Can’t you do anything? Surgery? Anything at all?” Rebecca’s desperation saturated her pleas.

  The doctor shook her head. “I’ve sedated him to ease his pain, but at this point, euthanizing him would be a kindness.” She kept her warm gaze on Rebecca and gave her shoulder another comforting squeeze. “Come. I’ll take you to him.”

  Numb, Rebecca followed Dr. McManus down the hall and into the room. Mr. Peabody lay sprawled on a cushioned exam table, the bulk of his body covered with a cotton blanket. His head and front paws remained visible, and his shallow breathing rasped from his mouth which hung ajar. An IV dripped fluids through a plastic tube.

  “Is there anyone you can call to be with you?” the vet asked. “I know this is hard.”

  Rebecca discounted her immediate desire to call Sean. It was midday and he was working. And he wasn’t her boyfriend or her husband, after all, just the guy she was sleeping with. Whittled down, they were nothing more than bed buddies. Nothing about their situation gave her the right to intrude on his day with a personal problem. Her chest tightened and tears, hot and heavy, flowed anew. She kept her eyes on Mr. Peabody and shook her head. “No.” She wiped the moisture from her cheeks. “There’s no one. Everyone’s at work.”

  “I’ll give you a few minutes alone with him.” Dr. McManus squeezed Rebecca’s shoulder again, a bolstering gesture, and stepped from the room.

  Rebecca slid a stool over to the exam table and sat. Mr. Peabody’s purrs rumbled in his throat when she stroked his head and scratched behind his ears.

  “I’m sorry I left the door open.” Her voice scraped through the lump in her throat. “I’m so sorry. Why did you go out? Huh? What caught your attention?”

  Mr. Peabody’s eyes closed and his purr softened. Rebecca lowered her head and let the tears come full force. Her shoulders shook as she wept. She stroked the cat’s fur and studied the curve of his head, memorized the leonine shape of his nose. “You’re a great cat.” She pressed a soft kiss between his ears. “I’ll never forget you. You’ve been the best friend a girl could have. I’m sorry I let you down.”

  The door opened and Dr. McManus appeared across the table. Rebecca bit her lip, drew a shuddering breath, and whispered to Mr. Peabody. “You’ve always trusted me to do what’s best for you. That’s what I’m doing now, okay?” Rebecca looked at the veterinarian and nodded.


  Knowing she did the right thing made it no easier to bear.

  ***

  Sean narrowed his eyes at the clock and drummed his fingers on the desk. It was after four. The messages he’d left for Rebecca had gone unanswered, and he wondered whether to be irritated with her for ignoring him or with himself for caring so damn much.

  It wasn’t like her to play an avoidance game. Of all the women he’d known in his life, she was the most up front. If she didn’t want to talk to him, she’d tell him so, not dodge him.

  What if something was wrong? She’d gone to the doctor that morning. What if her bronchitis had turned to pneumonia or something?

  Idiot. Don’t jump to conclusions.

  So she hadn’t answered the phone or responded to messages. Big deal. She was probably slammed at work, maybe in a meeting or at one of the construction sites.

  Still. She’d never ignored his calls before. What if something had happened?

  He picked up the phone, blinked at it and set it down again, pushed a self-deprecating laugh through his lips. Since when had he turned into an angst-ridden teenager? Let it go. She’ll call when she has time.

  Antsy, he pushed away from the desk and paced the office, stopping once to flip the shutters open. He’d closed them earlier in the day to block the sun, and he peered through the slats now to assess the changing weather. No precipitation predicted, but it sure looked gray out there. He eyed Sasha who lay sprawled on the leather sofa, wondered what kind of idiot allowed a cat to roam a professional place of business—his kind of idiot, apparently—and then sat at his desk again and narrowed his focus to a client’s family trust documents.

  Mrs. M appeared in the open doorway. “You’ve been prowling around in here like a cat on crack. There a problem?”

  Sean leaned back in his chair, grateful for the diversion. “Yes, as a matter of fact. The woman I’m seeing isn’t returning my calls.”

  Mrs. M’s heavy brows drew together. “So what’d you do to mess things up?”

  “What makes you think I did something?”