Alan just laughed. "Does she boss you around like this, David?"
"Not yet." David's glance caught hers, a light of challenge in their hazel depths. "But I'm sure that can change." Tracy felt it again. The subtle question dangling between them, like a whispered invitation.
She held his gaze, as if testing her resolve. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Alan Harvey's intent look—and the grin splitting his face.
"I'll take the kitten away now," she said, willing the warmth creeping up her neck to go away.
David and Alan left, discussing the work of the day, giving Tracy a few moments to compose herself.
"Here's our little man," Crystal said, returning with Kent. She gave Tracy a warning look. "And he's not happy with me."
"Thanks, Crystal."
Kent, still glowering, walked slowly up to Tracy.
"You can come with me to put the kitten in the kennel," Tracy said by way of a peace offering. He only nodded, following her.
She slowed her steps to match Kent's. He was looking vigilantly around, like a little prisoner checking out escape routes. His behavior raised questions that, for now, Tracy kept to herself. She was thankful he was at least willing to be with her.
For now all she could do was try to earn his trust. And she sensed the kitten was the bridge to the little boy.
She settled the kitten in the cage, turning him so his head was in the front. "There. He'll be a little sleepy for a while, but when he wakes up, we'll give him some food."
Kent nodded once, apparently satisfied with her explanation. Tracy ushered him out the door and closed it carefully behind them.
"So what do you think your mom will say about the kitten?" Tracy asked, fishing lightly for information as they walked back to the reception area.
Kent dropped his head. "I dunno."
"Do you think she'll let you keep him?"
His lack of response sent regret twanging through Tracy. She knew the cost of the work David had just done. The aftercare cost. If Kent didn't take the kitten, she was stuck with trying to find a home for an expensive mongrel. Her landlord had a strict no-pets rule. But if it made this boy smile, if it would make him happy, it was a chance worth taking.
"Well, you'd better get home before she misses you," Tracy said with false heartiness.
Kent lifted one thin shoulder in a vague shrug, and Tracy's regret was replaced by disquiet.
"Is your mother home?" Tracy asked, careful to keep her tone neutral.
A quick nod.
She hesitated over the next question but asked anyhow. "And your dad?"
"I don't have a dad." Kent clutched a fraying string at his neck.
Tracy caught the familiar movement. She suspected the string he clung to held the key to his home. His fragile lifeline.
Unwanted memories scurried through her head. Moments of blinding, numbing panic when she couldn't find the string of her own key to her apartment. Then the flood of relief when the key was discovered either tucked absently into a pants pocket or one time when the string had been caught on a button of her coat.
Tracy checked her watch. Nine thirty. "I think we should get you to school now."
He was already late. But when Crystal had brought up bringing him, he said he wouldn’t go unless Tracy took him. So he had waited until Tracy was available.
"I'm ready," Kent answered with a frown. "I just hafta walk there."
"All by yourself?"
"Yeah." Kent tossed the word out as if questioning her intelligence.
Tracy took a calming breath. This little guy could barely reach the crossing-light button on Main Street.
She bit her lip, calculating whether she had time to help him out. Mr. Stinson had promised to call her this morning. He was so unpredictable; no telling what would happen if she wasn't here to take his call.
But she couldn't let this little fellow head out on his own. She walked over to Crystal's desk and wrote a quick note to her about what to do should Edgar Stinson call while she was gone.
"Tracy, can you tell me where I can find some more latex gloves?" David stood in the doorway of the room, a pair of coveralls over one arm. "Crystal didn't know."
"I'll get them for you and then I'm going to take Kent to school." She paused and then added, "If that's okay." Dr. Harvey would have sent her on her way with a wave of his hand, but she still had to find her way around the new territory that was David Braun.
In more ways than one.
David held her steady gaze. "Probably a good idea."
His approbation kindled a glimmer of warmth. "I'll be back in about twenty minutes," she said, glancing down at Kent. "I think I'll take him home so he can put on some clean clothes."
Kent frowned. "I put this on yesterday."
"Carrying that kitten made your shirt all dirty," David said, planting one large finger on the spot on Kent's chest.
Kent jerked back, slapping David's hand away. "Don't touch me," he yelled.
Chapter 2
Tracy's eyes flew to David at Kent's unexpected outburst, but David was watching the little boy, a frown deepening his gaze.
"Sorry, Kent," David said, stepping back. "I shouldn't have done that."
Kent's stiff shoulders slumped down, and he turned away. "Can I come after school to see my kitty?" he mumbled.
"Of course you can." Tracy balled her hands into fists, stifling the urge to stroke his hair away from his eyes, soothe the emotions flitting across his face.
She looked up to see David watching her, his deep-set eyes enigmatic, his expression serious. Again their eyes held, and once more a whisper of caring wafted across the distance.
She gave him a careful smile.
"I'll get you those gloves," she said, turning away. "Then I'll go."
By the time they were inside Kent's apartment building, he was relaxed, chatting about his kitten as if the outburst with David hadn't happened.
"This is where I live," Kent said, stopping in front of a door with no number. The walls beside the door were grimy, and the doormat was worn. "I have to find something secret, so you have to look away."
Tracy obediently turned her back, looking down at the stained carpet. She heard the snick of the key in the lock, waited for Kent to "hide" his key again, and then turned around.
"You have to wait outside," Kent said, holding his hand out to her.
Tracy understood his innate caution. In spite of the surprising affection she felt for this young boy, to him she was still an adult stranger. "Okay. But while you're inside, you might want to take a minute to brush your hair."
"Why?" Kent asked, glancing back at her as if puzzled at the idea of personal grooming.
Then he was jerked forward as the door flew. He caught his balance and then stepped back, looking down.
"What is going on here?" A woman stood in the doorway, her hair a brown nest, her eyes raccoon-ringed with smudged black mascara. Distinct lines were pressed into the sharp features of her cheek and temple. A sloppy, oversized T-shirt hung halfway to her knees. "Kent, what are you doing out of the apartment?" Her voice was still raspy with sleep.
"I just wanted to go outside, Mom," he explained, his voice growing smaller.
Kent's mother grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him past her into the still-darkened apartment. "You go get ready for school." She turned back to Tracy. But Kent stopped just beyond her, watching them both.
His mother crossed her arms over the faded T-shirt. "What were you doing with my boy?" She snapped the words out.
"I work at the clinic down the road," Tracy said. She held the woman's gaze, yet was aware of the curtains pulled across the windows, the clothes scattered over the floor of the dimly lit apartment. A weary, depressive atmosphere oozed out of the room, making Tracy shiver with memories. "Kent came and visited us this morning," she said.
"He shoulda told me. I was worried sick."
Tracy doubted she had lost any sleep over her son. She looked as though sh
e had just rolled out of bed.
"I brought him home so he could get ready for school."
"I always take him." The words were thrown out like a challenge.
"Of course," Tracy murmured. As Kent stood with his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him, a premonition of fear caught her.
She wanted to grab him and run. Take him to her home. Feed him a solid meal, take care of him. Stave off whatever she feared would happen to him when the door closed on her.
All she could do was smile at him, hope and pray that he would sense her concern. That she would have a chance to create some trust in her. She waggled her fingers at him. "You take care, Kent. Have a good day in school."
Kent glanced quickly at his mother, who scowled back at Tracy. But just before the door closed, Kent gave her a hesitant smile.
Tracy thought about him all the way back to the clinic. Please, Lord, watch over that helpless child. Let me maintain some kind of contact with him. Keep an eye on him.
For now, praying was all she could do.
"You were quick." Crystal's sharp voice greeted Tracy as she entered the office. "Thought you were taking that kid to school?"
Tracy pulled a lab coat off a hanger and threaded her arms through it. "His mother said she would." She tried to ignore her own concerns, hoping Kent dared to come to the clinic again. "Did I miss any calls?"
"So you and David had some time together this morning." She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "Hope it was quality time?" She dragged the last two words out, heavy with innuendo.
Tracy ignored Crystal's blatant comments. She was having enough trouble trying to sort out her feelings for David; she didn't need Crystal stirring them up. "We were working."
Crystal flipped her comments off with a casual wave of her hand. "That tousled hair, those deep-set eyes, that crooked mouth." She sighed. "I could think of better things than work."
Thankfully, Tracy heard the phone ring, cutting off any further conversation. Crystal answered it and then covered the handset, handing it to Tracy.
"Edgar Stinson," she whispered, pushing away from the desk. "I'll be in the supply room."
Tracy took the phone, her heartbeat kicking up a notch. Anticipation threaded with a low note of dread sang through her as she raised the phone to her ear.
"Tracy here."
"Stinson. You told me to call you at the vet clinic. So I'm calling."
Tracy lowered herself into the chair Crystal had vacated, her knees wobbling. She sent up another quick prayer, drew in a shaky breath.
For the past two years, she'd been trying to make a deal with Edgar Stinson for an old abandoned yard site that took up one corner of the many parcels of land he owned. Available acreages within reasonable driving distance of Holmes Crossing were either ridiculously expensive or hard to come by. It had taken many diplomatic phone calls, a few visits, and constant gentle cajoling to get him even to consider subdividing.
Tracy put on her most pleasant voice. "Thanks for calling me back." She clutched the receiver of the phone, struggling to suppress her excitement.
"I thought about that acreage you wanted. You can have it."
The import of the words took time to register. As they did, Tracy exhaled slowly, the nebulous dreams she'd hardly dared entertain finally finding a solid resting ground. Thank you, Lord, she prayed, relief making her limbs rubbery. "That's great. I'm so glad to hear that." She bit back the flow of gratitude. Edgar Stinson had made it clear he was treating this as a business transaction and didn't want any fawning.
"Only thing," he continued. "They want a couple thousand dollars. To subdivide it. You can pay that."
Tracy could hardly keep up with his staccato comments. But she caught one phrase very distinctly. "A couple thousand dollars? As in two?"
"You heard me. Write me a check."
A faint note of caution sounded deep in her mind. "If I do that, I was wondering if we could draw up an Agreement for Sale?" she asked.
"You don't trust me?" Edgar Stinson's voice exploded through the phone.
Tracy clutched the handset with one sweaty hand, her other hand toying with the button on her lab coat as she carefully chose her next words.
"It's just business, Mr. Stinson. If I'm paying the subdividing costs, you can appreciate that I'm going to need some assurance myself." Please, Lord, let him agree to that. At least that.
"No legal yik yak. You want the acreage, you pay the costs. Simple as that." Each word he spoke was more unyielding than the last.
Tracy wavered, knowing her moment of silence could be interpreted wrongly by this volatile man.
But the lure of her own place, a piece of land she might build a house on, make the home she had yearned for all her life, pulled her past her own objections and stilled the practical voice that balked at putting out money for nothing.
"Okay. I'll give you a check."
"I'll meet you at the inn sometime in the next couple of days to get it. While we're talking, you tell that new vet David to give me a call. He came yesterday. Killed my cow." And with an ominous click, he rang off.
Tracy gently laid the phone in the cradle, as if offsetting Edgar Stinson's rudeness. She scribbled a note for David. Then, on another piece of paper, she wrote the amount Mr. Stinson had requested. Two thousand dollars.
Was she crazy to willingly sacrifice such a large amount of money without any guarantee?
"He'll sell it to me. I know he will," Tracy muttered aloud, as if putting sound to the words spinning through her head made them more real. She shoved her fingers through her hair and clutched her skull.
Before Tracy could think too much more about it, the buzzer announced another customer just as the phone started ringing again.
For the next eight hours, Tracy didn't have time to sit down, much less think about the money Mr. Stinson wanted. A crippled horse kept her and David busy until coffee time, and then a spay, a neuter, and a trip with Dr. Harvey out to a farm to do some preg testing. Then back to the clinic to try to catch up on bookkeeping. In a larger clinic, the vets would hire a bookkeeper, but in a clinic this size, the vet techs did double duty. Because Crystal was the senior tech, those duties usually fell to Tracy. Between all that, she had been checking on Kent's kitten, making sure it was still alive.
By the time she put up the closed sign on the door at the end of the day, Mr. Stinson's demand was only a hazy number hovering in the back of her mind.
She closed the door and turned around to see David lounging by the reception desk, still wearing his coveralls.
"That kitten's looking good. I just want to tell you to keep an eye on that leg. I'm scared he's going to bust those stitches if we can't keep him immobilized."
"Sure." She gave him a quick smile as she slipped past him to get to the desk. His presence dominated the room, and, as she glanced up at him again, she was disconcerted to see those hooded eyes looking at her.
"So, you heading out?" he asked.
"Book Club." She dropped the key in the desk and slid it shut. "We've been doing it for years. We've gotten to be good friends."
"Friends are good."
She looked up at the faintly wistful tone in his voice.
"Are you getting to know a few people?"
"Some. It takes time in a small town. I should learn to play golf. Apparently that helps. Or snowboarding once winter comes."
"You might want to start small. The ski hill can be difficult."
He winked at her. "I thought I would start with mini golf. But the dreaded windmill still eludes me."
"Many a good man has been tripped up on that one," she said, his gentle teasing drawing an answering smile.
He held her gaze, a sense of expectation hovering between them, and then he gave her a wry smile and pushed himself off his desk, disappearing into his office.
Voices old and new reminded her: Be careful. Guard your heart. No one else is going to take care of you.
But, as she slipped on her sweater a
nd caught up her purse, she felt as though she were warning herself more out of habit than conviction.
By the time she got to the Holmes Crossing Cafe, Danielle was already waiting, looking relaxed for a change. Usually she came bustling in from some emergency or crisis that had demanded her immediate attention. Today she sat in the booth at the back, staring out the window, twisting a strand of her long blonde hair around her finger. She'd already slipped out of her business-suit jacket and her peach-colored blouse moderating the austere cut of her skirt.
"Sorry I'm late." Tracy sat down across from her, giving her an apologetic smile.
"Wasn't waiting long."
"You must have had a slack day to be able to quit so soon."
Danielle's cheerful expression faded. "Wish that were true. I had to do an apprehension of a young girl early this afternoon. Her father threatened me. She tried to get out of the car while I was driving. Cried and screamed all the way to the foster home. By the time I got her settled in the foster home, back to the office, and done with the paperwork, I decided to cash in some of my unpaid overtime." Her slender fingers traced the embossed letters on the menu in front of her, her blue eyes softening.
Tracy recognized her friend's distress. Danielle put all of herself into her job as a social worker. Which was fortunate for the kids in her care, but not always so fortunate for Danielle.
"Hey, Dani." Tracy leaned across the table and touched her friend's arm. "What you're doing is important, okay? I'm sure you did everything to keep this family together, but you needed to make a hard decision. You needed to do what was best for the little girl. Right now she's scared and confused, but you made the right choice. You are giving her a chance to see what a good family can be like."
Danielle held her friend's gaze, the tightness around her mouth fading away. "And you should know about dysfunctional families."
As Tracy shrugged off her comment and the memories edging it, a picture of Kent slipped through her mind. She wondered where he was right now. What he was doing. She had hoped he would stop by the clinic after school, but he hadn't shown.
Maybe tomorrow morning.
A Silence in the Heart (Holmes Crossing Book 4) Page 2
