Lighthouse Beach

by Shelley Noble

  She was dying to get a closer look but she didn’t dare. He was prickly enough as it was. So she backed out of the door and returned to the barn and started working.

  She let the horses out to the pasture while she cleaned the stalls. Put down fresh bedding. Filled the feed bin. Picked out the rotting apples from the treat box.

  Time passed and still he didn’t return.

  She should probably just bring the animals in and leave. She couldn’t believe the flood of disappointment she felt. Totally over the top and out of proportion; she barely knew the man. Except for the night of the barbecue, they’d hardly spoken.

  She brought in the two ponies first. They were sweet animals and perfectly child-size. She went back for the others, dragging her feet like a child. Clara and Pete came dutifully back to the barn and began to munch on fresh hay.

  When she went back out for Princess, the mare nudged her shoulder. But when Diana reached for her bridle, she danced away, shook her head, and stood her ground. She wanted to play. Diana wasn’t in the mood.

  “Come on. He’s obviously not coming back in time for a ride and I wouldn’t dare take you out without him. He’d have my head. So come here. Come on.”

  Loki came up to see what was going on, then walked over to the fence. Diana could swear he was looking for Ian.

  And suddenly there he was, walking toward them from around the side of the barn. “You have better ears than I do, boy,” Diana said, and waited for Ian to reach them.

  Wherever he’d been, he was squeaky clean, freshly showered, his hair was still wet, clothes newly laundered. He glanced at her but went directly to Loki. Loki lowered his head until man and horse were forehead to forehead.

  Diana had seen this ritual before, some kind of human–equine communication that shut out the rest of the world. Princess stood by patiently then eased over to get her share of attention. Ian reached up to caress her neck. Diana was so tempted to join them, but she wouldn’t grovel.

  And truth be told, it was such a fragile, peaceful moment that she was afraid to break it.

  The very thought made her want to laugh. Ms. Sensitivity she was not. The whole idea was ridiculous. But for better or worse, being here, doing this was so much more entertaining—more inviting—than a week at the spa. The only thing that would make it better would be if she could actually crack the enigma that was Ian Lachlan.

  She turned and leaned back against the fence, and waited for him to finish his communion with the horses. She tried picturing herself in shitkickers and a cowboy hat, a piece of hay in the side of her mouth. Just kick back and relax, at home in the paddock. Horses are my middle name.

  When he finally straightened up, she pushed away from the fence, the hat, the boots, the straw dissolving in an instant. “We were beginning to miss you,” she said laconically. She was trying so hard she was surprised her words didn’t come out with a Texas accent.

  “I was out on a call. Several.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fairly serious case of bovine mastitis. Colic at the alpaca farm and a nasty, difficult foaling.”

  His tone brought her back to herself. “Mother and baby okay?”

  “So far. A case of wait and see.”

  “Frustrating.”

  He looked at her. Looked away.

  She had no idea what that reaction was about.

  “Guess you want to skip riding today?”

  A twitch more than a shrug. Maybe he just didn’t want to ride with her.

  Suddenly this didn’t feel like a game anymore.

  “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” She started to move away.

  “No.”

  “No, you won’t see me tomorrow?” Was he ditching her? Because of a bad foaling? Or because she had worked with his animals while he was gone?

  “No. We’ll ride today. If you want.”

  They rode, like always, one after the other, Ian leading without talking, never looking back. And Diana wondered if maybe he wasn’t consciously ignoring her, if maybe he’d just forgotten she was there.

  Today he took a trail through the woods; they climbed up and up; the trail narrowed until the brush was touching their legs.

  And Diana, much to her dismay, remembered Lillo’s words. “He isn’t dangerous.” Why had she said that? And why was she thinking that now, when she was alone in the woods with a man she didn’t know and whom she couldn’t begin to fathom.

  Good sense told her to turn around and go back to the barn. But curiosity and a sense of inevitability kept her going.

  Abruptly, the woods ended and the trail opened onto a wide rocky bluff. The sea stretched out below them in dazzling blues. The wind was strong and it whipped Diana’s hair across her face. She shivered. Ian slid off Loki’s back and walked him over to a dead tree that lay half hidden by undergrowth. He tethered him and then reached back for Diana’s reins. She climbed down and handed them to him. He tethered Princess next to Loki, stayed a minute to stroke and reassure the horses. Then he walked back to Diana.

  She stood waiting, her heart racing, caught somewhere between anticipation and fear.

  He took her arm; she stiffened, but it was a gentle touch, like he used with the horses, and Diana, like Loki and Princess, calmed, and let him lead her to the edge.

  He climbed down the rocky outcropping and reached back to help her down to where the path widened into a flat semicircular platform. There the ocean spread before them, behind them, the bluff’s wall protecting their backs from the piercing wind. And running along the wall was a bench of rock so perfect for sitting that Diana thought nature might have deliberately carved it as a scenic lookout.

  Ian sat down. Diana sat beside him. They both stared out at the water. The wind blustered around them. Below them, the waves crashed on the rocky shore. But in the small sanctuary of the bluff, the silence was complete.

  She could feel Ian calm as the intense energy that seemed to be his normal state left him. The change was almost tangible as the man next to her surrendered … to what? Nature? Being with her? She flushed at her own egotism. More likely this was Ian Lachlan’s Batcave.

  At least he’d deigned to share it with her. Or was she misreading him completely? Maybe it was time to find out.

  “When did you get interested in kids?” Diana risked a sideways glance at him. And realized everything about her dealings with Ian included some amount of risk.

  “Why?”

  She’d given up thinking he was going to answer or even look at her, and the sound of his voice made her jump. “You just don’t strike me as the kind of guy who would be.”

  “Be what?” He was still looking straight ahead.

  “I don’t know.” Patient? Gentle? Understanding? All those words came to mind, and Diana realized he was all those things, just taciturn. But the horses didn’t mind, and the kids adored him, though, come to think of it, he wasn’t taciturn with them. She’d actually heard him laughing with Joey and Bobby the day before.

  He didn’t laugh with her. He barely talked to her. But he was talking now.

  “Are you trained in child psychology? I mean I know you’re a vet, but …”

  “They come to ride horses.”

  She gave him her bullcrap look. “Joey and Bobby didn’t ride that much, mainly they just hugged Clara and led her around and things.”

  “EAL, Equine Assisted Learning. I passed the course, if you’re worried about my credentials.”

  Diana turned to face him. “Why do you take the worst possible meaning out of everything I say? I was just curious. People are curious beings, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Haven’t forgotten how to be curious?”

  “Haven’t forgotten what curiosity can do.”

  Lillo didn’t go home right away. She wandered away from town, toward the water. She just didn’t want to run into anyone who had seen her have lunch with Ned, or had seen her go into the clinic. Who would make assumpti
ons, would ask her questions.

  Hell, what was she thinking, everyone would know she’d been there. How many patients had they seen?

  She stopped dead. Patients? How dare she. Ned was the doctor, not her. Not now. She never would be. Couldn’t be. But no sooner had she stepped into the clinic than it all seemed so natural, so right. She’d welcomed the unique odor of old house and antiseptic.

  It had been a mistake. Well meaning, but a mistake all the same. Still, she could kick herself for running out like that. She should have shown a little discipline and made a dignified exit. They were probably all talking about her—Agnes, Clancy, and Ned—thinking she was a basket case, and they’d be right.

  She should never have gone. She wouldn’t return. Doc Clancy was back, they wouldn’t need her. Of course, an extra pair of hands was always welcome in a free clinic. But not hers.

  She climbed down the grassy verge to where she could see the lighthouse and the keeper’s cottage. That was where she belonged. A quiet life in a quiet town. No questions asked. She saw Mac and Allie come out of the house, get into the van, and drive away.

  Wondered where they were going in the middle of the day. Had Allie not gone on her motorcycle ride with Nando? Were they driving to the mall to buy her some motorcycle riding clothes? Or had she chickened out and canceled, and Mac was driving her to the bus station so she could catch a flight home?

  Tears stung Lillo’s eyes, surprising her. At first she thought maybe she’d gotten some fleck of pollen or dust in them. She didn’t cry. Lillo Gray had stopped crying a year ago. She wouldn’t start again.

  Chapter 17

  “Wasn’t that Lillo we just passed?” Allie asked as she maneuvered the van down the two-lane road.

  “You’re asking me?”

  “Oh, don’t be such a grump, Mac. Maybe you just need glasses. If the place we’re going is like other eyeglass places, they get your prescription and have a pair ready by this afternoon.” She reached over and patted Mac’s thigh.

  The gesture just made Mac feel like an old lady. “Or maybe I have a brain tumor.”

  Allie glanced over at her. “Maybe, but at least going to the optometrist today can put us on the right path.”

  “My path to doom. You’ll all leave and I’ll be kicked out of my house to die a lonely death on the streets of Lighthouse Beach.”

  “You’re just being difficult, right? You’re not really afraid, are you?”

  You’re damn straight I’m afraid, Mac wanted to tell her. I’ve been hanging on by my fingernails for years now. One little slip and … where would she be? Who ever heard of a lighthouse keeper who couldn’t see?

  Not that it mattered. The lighthouse was as dead as she was blind. Two old gaffers past their prime.

  “Me? Nah. Just damn inconvenient.”

  “And what major plans did you have today that you’re having to give up?”

  Nothing under the sun, thought Mac. It was just pitiful. “Take the right fork up ahead.” She had half a mind to take them all the way up the coast instead of into the town and the optometrist’s office.

  Allie turned on the blinker.

  “I mean the left fork.”

  Allie changed the blinker. “Are you trying to pull a fast one?”

  The girl was no dummy. “No. Just confused for a minute. You know how us old folks get.”

  “Oh, stop it. Is that what you’re afraid of? People will think you’re losing it? Lots of people wear glasses. You should get out more.”

  “Says the girl who’s afraid to take a ride on a man’s motorcycle.”

  “I’m not afraid of riding a motorcycle.”

  “Nope. Just afraid of the man.”

  Allie stared straight ahead and Mac knew she’d hit the mark. Well hell, you didn’t need 20/20 vision to see what was going on with that girl.

  “You’re a pretty wily one, aren’t you, Allie?”

  Allie glanced over at her then back to the road. “I don’t understand.”

  “You show up in Lighthouse Beach in the middle of the night, just one of the girls, saving a friend from certain disaster, supportive, quiet, and totally self-effacing. That’s a gentle word for ‘afraid to show your insides to the world.’”

  “That’s not true.”

  Allie’s voice caught. Mac chuckled. The girl was a terrible liar, poor thing. “Tell me. What do you do at that vineyard of yours?”

  “It’s not mine. It belongs to the family.”

  “Then what do you do at the family’s vineyard? Turn left up here at the stop sign.”

  Allie slowed, stopped, and made the turn.

  “Well?”

  “I … since Gino’s death, I’ve sort of taken over running the business. They were really floundering and not using what resources they had. I computerized everything, hired marketers and publicists. I keep everything organized and running smoothly while growing the business.”

  “Sounds like they really depend on you.”

  For a second Allie didn’t answer. “I think they’d be happy to go back to the old ways.”

  Mac could certainly relate to that.

  “And I have my son. He’s really the joy of my life.”

  “Keeps you pretty busy.”

  “He does.”

  “But still doesn’t fill the hole left by your husband’s death.”

  Mac didn’t have to see her reaction. That startled whimper, quickly cut off, told her everything she suspected.

  “If you need to pull over, do it. I don’t want to die because you can’t see the road.”

  “I don’t need to. That was mean.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It’s the truth, isn’t it? You’re not the first person to lose someone you love. You grieve and one day you move on. It doesn’t happen in a day, but you know what I mean. You can try to stay busy, you can try to stop living, you can try to bury yourself, but sooner or later life wins out.” Mac sighed. “Don’t wait until you’re too old to care.”

  Allie’s head swerved toward Mac—and so did the van.

  “Eyes on the road.”

  Allie straightened the wheel and hunkered down.

  “It’s a gift to have that kind of love, even if you couldn’t keep it. It doesn’t mean you can’t try again. Or just have a little fun along the way. Like a ride on the back of Nando’s motorcycle.”

  Mac looked over at Allie, who was studiously ignoring her. She was like a crocus in spring just waiting for the thaw, waiting to come out and bloom.

  And Nando might just be the heat she needed. Mac chuckled. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t thought about those things in years.

  “What?”

  “Nothin’ … much.” Mac would love to see it: Allie learning to love again. Wouldn’t that be something. Stupid old woman, you better hope you can keep seeing anything at all.

  Ned and Clancy finished up at six. Clancy was in a hurry to get to the keeper’s house and relax. He’d been doing double duty as physician and caregiver, had driven to the clinic and worked a full day.

  Ned was tired, but he was antsy, too. He wondered what Lillo was doing. Whether she was feeling good about the morning or castigating herself for even giving it a try. With Lillo, he could pretty much guess it was the second.

  He’d never known a woman so intent on ignoring her own best interests.

  “You going after her?” Clancy asked, shrugging into his jacket.

  Ned started. Leave it to Clancy to always know what he was thinking. “No. I’m afraid of making things worse instead of better.”

  “Smart choice. If I see her, I’ll thank her and tell her I hope we’ll see her tomorrow.”

  Ned started to tell him not to.

  “You just have to learn how to handle these skittish ones,” Clancy continued.

  “That sounds very chauvinistic.”

  “Only in your mind. I was talking about patients, male or female, adult or child, human or animal. The skittish ones need a soft approach.”

 
“She needs a good shake.”

  Clancy snorted. “I believe you already tried that approach.”

  “With dire consequences. I remember.” How could Ned forget. He’d been so furious when she showed up in Lighthouse Beach a year ago. Her car packed to the roof with her belongings. She moved into the cottage and didn’t come out for six days.

  He’d heard what had happened. He doubted if there was anyone in the medical community who hadn’t. But he hadn’t expected her to just turn tail and run home.

  She might have stayed there for the whole few weeks Ned had been in town if he hadn’t forced his way in. Well, “forced” wasn’t exactly the word he would use: the sliding glass door had been unlocked.

  He’d meant to help, but she looked so destroyed that he got angry all over again, not at her, not really, but about the whole thing. And angry at her, too. For letting what happened make her give up everything she’d worked for and was good at. He’d said some things meant to shock her into coming back to them, but it had only driven her away and gained him a black eye in the bargain.

  They hadn’t seen much of each other since then. The last time he’d been in town she’d left; whether it was coincidental or on purpose, he’d never asked.

  They’d gotten off to a bumpy start this trip. But it was like everything was bringing them together. And she’d showed up today. Maybe it was the beginning of her getting back to work. He mentally crossed his fingers. He didn’t know why it mattered to him. People quit medical school, residencies, practices all the time. It all got to be too much, too hard, or just too life-consuming. But he remembered her fire and her determination and her sacrifices. And her parents’ sacrifices.

  “Don’t sweat it,” Clancy said, lifting his helmet off the peg. He paused at the door. “She’ll either come back to medicine or she won’t. It’s her decision to make, not mine, yours, or anybody else’s.”

  “She’s got cataracts,” Allie announced as soon as they had all been introduced to Clancy and sat down to dinner.

  Lillo watched Mac ignore them all as she lifted a pot roast onto a platter. No one said anything. She carried the platter over to the table and dropped it on the table in front of Clancy. Gravy sloshed over the sides.