Angel's Rest (3 page)

“Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s important to clean all these scratches.”

“Wouldn’t want them to scar,” he replied, his tone desert dry.

He saw the question in her eyes, and she must have seen the answer in his, because she kept quiet. She moved a step closer and caught a whiff of her scent. Summertime peaches, ripe and juicy. Now there was an incongruous item for a cold autumn day.

Her gentle finger brushed across a hard ridge of scar tissue and she softly said, “More than a hundred and thirty bacterial diseases can be transmitted to humans from a dog’s mouth, Mr. Callahan. Dr. Hander will tell you what to watch for, but as long as you take the antibiotics he’ll prescribe, I doubt you’ll have a problem.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She paused and waited for him to meet her stare. “You’re not going to go see Dr. Hander, are you?”

“It’s a long drive. Can’t you give me antibiotics?”

“I’m a vet.”

He held her gaze and said, “Woof woof.”

As she rolled her eyes, he pressed, more from curiosity about how she’d react than a desire for drugs. “It’s two hours to a hospital from here. I’ll bet you have an emergency stash.”

“This isn’t an emergency.”

Her teeth tugged at her lower lip and she looked torn with indecision. His gaze settled on her mouth until Gabe abruptly lost interest in the game. He rolled to a sitting position. “Don’t worry, Dr. Sullivan. I’ll be just fine. I know. I’ve had worse.”

Her gaze dropped to his chest, and this time he saw a flash of pity she couldn’t hide before she finally asked, “What happened to you?”

He pulled on the bloodied, tattered shirt and ignored the question. He needed to get out of here. “What about the dog? Will he be okay?”

She accepted the dodge with a nod. “He’ll be uncomfortable for a while, but he should make a full recovery. I’ll keep him quarantined in case he has underlying issues we can’t immediately identify.”

He slipped his wallet from the pocket of his jeans, removed a few bills, and set them on the counter. “Thanks for your help, Dr. Sullivan.”

Without another word, he turned and walked back out into the snow.

He had almost reached his jeep when the clinic door banged open and she came running after him. She held cash and a small orange bottle in her hand. “Wait. These were hundreds. That’s way too much.”

He refused the bills she pushed his way, but took the bottle. “What’s this?”

“You told the truth about no allergies, right?” As he nodded, she scowled and added, “Take two a day until they’re gone. You didn’t get them from me.”

Gabe stared down at the pill bottle. She could get in all kinds of trouble for doing what she’d just done. For all she knew, he could be a DEA agent.

It was a basic human act of kindness, and it sliced through the scar tissue surrounding his heart, sparking a flicker of warmth in a place cold for too long. “Thanks, Doc. You’re a lifesaver.”

Nic entered the school auditorium through a side door and looked for a place to sit. The place was packed. She’d bet that 90 percent of the residents of Eternity Springs had gathered for tonight’s meeting. A fluttering hand on the opposite end of the auditorium caught her attention. Nic waved back to Sarah Reese, whose short cap of dark hair crowned an angular face and whose long, luscious lashes set off Elizabeth Taylor violet eyes that were the envy of every woman in town. Sarah gestured toward the empty seat between her and Eternity’s newest permanent resident, Celeste Blessing, who appeared to be having an animated conversation with the man seated to her right, Reverend Hart, the pastor at Community Presbyterian.

“Thanks for saving me a spot,” Nic said to Sarah, sinking gratefully into the chair. Her feet were killing her.

“I was hoping you’d show up. I understand you had some excitement at the clinic tonight. Dish, girlfriend.”

Nic hesitated. This was more than just a man-with-a-dog story. This was a man-with-a-dog-visiting-the-house-on-Murphy-Mountain story, which made it more than idle gossip to Sarah and involved more scars than those that marred the stranger’s chest. “Not much to tell. Guy staying up at Eagle’s Way found an injured dog on the mountain.”

Sarah studied her manicure and said in a casual tone, “Lori said he knew Jack Davenport and that he looked to be our age.”

Nic gave a slow nod. “Maybe a little older. He didn’t mention Cam, Sarah.”

Her friend momentarily stiffened, then wrinkled her nose and gave her dark hair a toss. “Did I ask?”

“No.” But then, she never did. Nic was one of only three other people who knew about Sarah’s unfinished business with Cameron Murphy. “Lori said you were having dinner with Zach Turner.”

“After this meeting, if nothing comes up,” Sarah said. As Nic arched a curious brow, she added, “He’s a
friend
, Nicole.”

“He could be more if you’d let him.”

“We’re not like that.”

“I don’t know why not. He’s gorgeous, and he wears his … pistol … so well.”

Up on the stage, the mayor and council members huddled around the sound system while a technician tested the microphone. Nic waited until Celeste Blessing finished visiting with Reverend Hart, then said, “Celeste, I drove down Cottonwood Street today. You did it, didn’t you? That new ride in front of Cavanaugh House is yours?”

Blue eyes twinkled as she reached up to adjust the jaunty brim of her white felt hat. “You mean my Honda Gold Wing?”

Sarah leaned forward and gaped at Celeste. “You bought a motorcycle?”

“What can I say? I love to fly.”

Sarah groaned, closed her eyes, and banged her forehead against her palm. “My daughter is
so
not allowed to hang out with you anymore.”

Celeste laughed softly, and—as always when she heard that particular sound—Nic’s tension melted away. The woman had a gift, an air of serenity about her that
was contagious. A widowed, retired schoolteacher from South Carolina, Celeste wore her silver-gray hair in a stylish bob, spoke with a delightful, soft southern accent, and demonstrated an old-money class that blended with a youthful sense of fun. Nic adored her. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you decided to retire in Eternity Springs, Celeste?”

Pleasure warmed the older woman’s eyes. “Thank you, dear. You’re too kind.”

“Nope. Just selfish. Being around you makes me feel good.”

A loud squeal blasted through the room. Celeste winced and sighed. “That reminds me of my Fancy-cat when I was slow with breakfast.”

Nic gave her new friend’s hand a comforting squeeze. Celeste had arrived in town this past spring with a treasure trove of books and a cranky, arthritic Persian cat. When she brought her ailing Fancy to Nic’s clinic, the depth of her love for her pet had been obvious, and Nic had hated relaying a terminal diagnosis. Celeste had been working up the nerve to have Fancy put down when the cat died in her sleep just over a month ago. Though the older woman had accepted the loss of her pet with grace, Nic knew she was hurting. “You let me know when the time is right for you, and I’ll fix you up with a four-legged somebody needing a home.”

She wondered how Celeste felt about boxers.

“You have a good heart, Nicole Sullivan, and I appreciate your sensitivity. I think I’ll be ready for another pet sooner rather than later. That big old house is lonely with only my old bones rattling around in it.”

“I can imagine.”

Upon moving to Eternity, Celeste had purchased the old Cavanaugh estate, the large Victorian mansion built back in the 1880s by one of the owners of the Silver Miracle mine. Cavanaugh House had been a showplace
in its time and later additions contributed to its hodgepodge charm. But after tragedy struck the family in the 1970s, the house had sat empty and the years of neglect had taken a toll.

Onstage the huddle broke and the three council members took their seats at a table. Mayor Hank Townsend stepped up to the podium, banged his gavel twice, and declared, “I’m calling this special town hall meeting to order. Thank you all for coming out on such a blustery autumn evening. Looks like winter might arrive early this year. Hope everyone is ready.”

From the front row, the owner of Fill-U-Up, Eternity’s combination gas station and convenience store, called out, “Quit politicking, Hank, and tell us what the governor’s office said!”

The mayor scowled and banged his gavel again for good measure. “You’re out of order, Dale Parker.”

“Just like the diesel pump at your place,” added one of the council members, Larry Wilson, who owned Eternity’s building supply store. “I have to go beg fuel for my delivery trucks from the city pumps. When do you intend to get that thing fixed?”

“As soon as I know that my business will survive the winter,” Dale fired back. “Just spill the beans, Hank. Are we getting the prison or not?”

The mayor closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and visibly braced himself before saying in a flat, defeated tone. “No. No, we’re not.”

Nic released the breath she unconsciously had been holding as the gathering let out a collective groan. Beside her, Sarah shut her eyes and winced. This was bad news for Eternity. Nic knew it. Yet she couldn’t deny that in her heart of hearts, she was glad. No matter how she’d tried to convince herself and others, she never believed that a state prison would be the answer to Eternity’s prayers.

“That’s it, then,” Dale Parker said, his tone morose. “Eternity is done for. Three bad summer seasons in a row and no prison to halt the bleeding. We might as well roll up the sidewalks and hang a Closed sign at the city limits.”

A buzz of voices agreed with him. Hank Townsend shook his head. “Hold on now, Dale. Everybody take a deep breath and don’t be so negative. Your city council isn’t giving up. In fact, we’ve scheduled a meeting directly following this one to come up with a plan D. Everyone who—”

“That makes me feel better,” Dale interrupted. “After all, plans A, B, and C worked out so well.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” muttered Celeste. Sitting catercorner to the gas station owner, she reached out and rapped him on the head with a rolled copy of the weekly town newspaper, the
Eternity Times
. “Let the man speak, Mr. Parker. You might learn something.”

Parker frowned over his shoulder. “Beg pardon, Mrs. Blessing, but plan D? It’s obvious that we’re fighting a losing battle here.”

As the audience buzzed mostly with agreement, Hank Townsend shoved his fingers through his hair and grimaced. “All right, all right, all right. I’ll admit it. Eternity is looking more like Temporary every day. We have a dwindling population and zero industry. Summer tourism is sick because we’re smack dab in the middle of the most isolated county in the lower forty-eight and the price of gasoline skyrockets every summer. Winter tourism is nonexistent. We’re too far from the ski resorts, and it’s too hard to get here to enjoy what we do have to offer. Once the snows close the mountain passes, we have one way to get in and out of here, and even I don’t like facing Sinner’s Prayer Pass in wintertime.”

“Wussy,” called Alton Davis, the liquor store owner,
who supplemented his income by driving a snow plow in winter—over Sinner’s Prayer Pass.

“You bet,” Hank replied.

A voice from the back of the room called out, “So is your plan D to annihilate the Davenport heirs, Hank? Gonna fix that troublesome will once and for all?”

The mayor froze, blinked, then snorted with amusement. “I have to admit, that idea has some appeal. Sure would solve a lot of problems to be able to cut a road through Waterford Valley and bring Eternity closer to civilization. Unfortunately, murder is illegal.”

“Not to mention immoral,” added Reverend Hart.

Dale Parker heaved a heavy sigh. “Nice to dream, though. Eternity Springs has been paying for that deal between Daniel Murphy and Lucien Davenport for a century and a quarter. You know darn well that if Murphys still owned the land, they’d have sold access to the mountain and to Waterford Valley at some point in the last century. Instead, ol’ Daniel cursed us forever when he sold out to a rich man whose descendants care more about ancient history than they do about progress.”

“Oh, please,” said Emma Hall, owner, publisher, and sole employee of the
Eternity Times
. “This is a waste of time. The Davenports aren’t going to change their position. Even if they did, don’t forget who else would have to sign off on any deal involving Murphy Mountain. That would be Cameron Murphy. The same Cam Murphy you all routed out of town when he was little more than a boy. Somehow I doubt he’d be all that anxious to play Eternity’s savior.”

A drawn-out discussion of Cam Murphy’s youthful misadventures followed, during which Sarah steadily slumped in her seat. For about the millionth time, Nic cursed the string of events that had done so much damage to both her childhood friends.

Celeste’s keen, blue-eyed gaze shifted between Sarah
and Nic. She pursed her lips and thumped them thoughtfully with an index finger, then said, “You know, girls, Eternity Springs doesn’t need a savior.”

Nic answered with a wry smile. “No. We need a town psychologist. After all, it doesn’t say much about the collective mental state of Eternity’s citizens that we’re clinging so hard to an isolated, financially bankrupt, long-past-its-prime mountain town.”