Kaleidoscope Eyes (15 page)

“Well, okay, I don’t want you—”

Oh yeah. That made things
so
much better.

“—the
show
wants you. You and your dog.” He sighed. “What I’m saying is you two are a team. We want you both.”

“Hmm.”

“It’ll be good for you and Kodi.”

“Oh?” Annie looked down at the shepherd now sprawled at her feet. Make that on her feet. “Good for us, huh? How is that?”

“You’ll be famous.”

Annie pulled her feet free. “We already are, Mr. Curry, in our own little way. And I don’t care to be any more famous than that.”

“Well then, think of what it could mean to your organization. Media attention is always a good thing for groups that depend on donations.”

Kodi barked again, twice this time. Annie grabbed hold of the dog’s collar and ushered her to the front door. “I suppose that’s true, but I’m not sure the people who watch reality TV are exactly your typical SAR donors.”

She pulled the door open and shoved the dog outside, then closed the door against her rumbling
Aarrooowww!

“You’d be amazed, Miss Justice. These people don’t just love watching what our heroes do; they want to take part. Help out. Believe me, your organization would benefit.”

Annie went to pull a coffee mug from the rack on the wall. SAR could always use more donations, but was she prepared to give up her life for a couple weeks to accommodate these people? And what about the window she was working on? Having someone watching her every move wasn’t exactly conducive to creativity.

No, this was not a good idea. “I’m sorry, Mr. Curry. But I’ll have to pass.”

“But—”

Wow. It felt good to have the decision made. She even smiled into the receiver. “Thanks for calling. I’m sure you’ll find someone far better than Kodi and me for your episode.”

With that, she dropped the phone back in the base, then took her mug to fill it with coffee she’d made earlier that morning. Fortunately, she’d learned long ago that if you turned the heat off immediately after brewing a pot, you could nuke it all day long and it would still taste fresh. She slid the mug into the micro and hit the
reheat
button, then went to let her still complaining dog back inside.

“So what was
that
all about?”

Kodi went to stare up at the phone where it rested in the base.

“I told him no.”

The dog whined.

“Look—” she pulled the doggy cookie container across the counter, then fished a cookie out—“I can’t imagine anyone wanting cameras following them around, can you?”

She held the cookie out, just above Kodi’s nose. The shepherd, who was already sitting pretty, took her cue and gave one affirming bark. Annie tossed her the cookie.

“That’s what I love about you, girl. You always know the right thing to say.”

FOURTEEN        

W
ell …
that
went well.

Jed listened another few seconds to the dial tone buzzing in his ear, then clicked the phone off. He sat there, tapping it against his leg as he thought.

Okay So she wasn’t as receptive as he’d hoped. No problem. He’d met resistance before. That just meant he had to really go to work now.

Setting the phone back in its cradle, he went to the kitchen table and picked up the newspaper.

“Who are you, Annie Justice?”

“Women speak two languages—one of which is verbal.” Hmmm … if there was one thing the Bard understood, it was human nature. Jed sat down, laying the paper out in front of him, and read through the article again. Taking his time. Looking for the woman in what she did—and didn’t—say.

“I like helping people. It’s an amazing feeling seeing a family reunited when they feared the worst. Especially when kids get lost. Seeing the fear fall away, seeing parents’ faces change from terror to
relief, that’s what makes this all worthwhile.”

Annie Justice cared about others.

“These mountains, this wilderness, it’s as much apart of me as my DNA. Oregon is heaven on earth to me, but I’m not fooled. For all its beauty, it can be a hazardous place for the unprepared.”

She loved Oregon.

“Kodi’s a great rescue dog; it’s as though she can’t be at peace until she finds whoever is lost. But she’s more than that. She’s my best friend. I trust her, not just with my life, but with others’ lives too. And she’s never let me down.”

She loved that dog of hers.

Jed frowned. Annie trusted her dog … the animal had never let her down …

He laid Annie’s picture in front of him and studied it. Yes, he’d been right. There was something hidden in those eyes.

Hurt.

Distrust.

And a heavy dose of defiance.

This woman was going to be a challenge. He tapped a finger on her newsprint chin. “Okay, Annie, you won this round. But you’re about to learn something, lady.” He carried the paper to his desk, jerked open the drawer, and pulled out a pair of scissors. Four quick cuts later, the picture was free from its newspaper prison and tacked to the wall above Jed’s desk. Right at eye level.

He sat in his chair and met the woman’s gaze straight on. “You’re not the only one with a stubborn streak.”

S
EPTEMBER
26—A D
AFFODIL
D
AY
(G
REEN AND
Y
ELLOW
)

Annie crouched over her worktable, staring at the paper in front of her.

White. Clean. Empty.

Just like her brain.

“Argh!” She pushed away from the table and paced. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she come up with any ideas for Serafina’s window? She’d even welcome a
bad
idea at this
point. But every time she sat down to sketch, her mind drew a blank.

Ideas—good, bad, or otherwise—were nonexistent.

Lord, why did You let me agree to this? And why won’t You help me?

A glance at the clock had her teeth clenching. Ten-thirty. She’d been sitting here for three hours! Enough was enough.

Besides, it was past time to check on Kodi. The dog had been in full-on snooze mode when Annie was ready to come to the studio, so she just left her at home. Good thing the studio was only across the yard from her house. Kodi’s middle name might be “trustworthy,” but it never paid to leave a shepherd alone for too long. Smart dogs got bored easily. And when smart dogs were bored, they got destructive. The last time Annie forgot that, she found a doorjamb chewed into toothpicks and the carpeting from one room shredded into dental floss.

That memory quickened her step as Annie left the studio and hurried past her garden to the house. She loved having her studio in a separate building from her house. It helped her leave work behind when she was done.

Once inside, she roused Kodi, laughing at the dog’s quick transition from sleep to dancing excitement when she realized she was going for a walk. Annie pulled Kodi’s leash from the hook near the back door. She calmed Kodi enough to clip the leash in place—then jumped when the buzzer from the gate cut through the silence.

Sometimes she really hated that buzzer.

Kodi trotting along at her side, she went to pull the front door open … and froze.

Roses. A mass of them. Vivid tones of peach tinged with red filling the doorway. The flowers’ heady scent enveloped her, almost taking her breath away.

“Sorry ’bout that ma’am. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Aha! A human hid behind the flowers. Annie stepped to the side so she could see the deliveryman. “Can I help you? And how did you get through the gate?”

“It was open, so I just drove up to the house. I hope that’s okay”

Great. She must have forgotten to close it when she came home the night before. Better not let Dan hear about it. He’d been after her since the e-mails to make sure she “secured” her home.

“You’re Annie Justice?”

She nodded. “Yes … ”

“These are for you. Where would you like me to set them, ma’am?”

“For me?” Annie bit her lip. It had to be a mistake. Too bad, because they were beautiful. “Are you sure?”

“If you’re Annie Justice, then I’m sure. Now please, ma’am, these things are heavy.”

“Oh! Bring them in.” She led him to the kitchen island, and he set the huge vase down, grunting his relief.

“Thanks, ma’am.”

She inspected the beautiful blooms, then cocked her head. “There’s no card?”

“No, ma’am.”

“But … who are they from?”

He shrugged. “You’ll have to call the store for that information. I just deliver.”

Annie buried her nose in the petals and inhaled. This had to be what heaven smelled like.

“Is this where you want the rest of them?”

Annie eyed the man over the roses. “The rest of what?”

“The flowers. I’ve got a truckload of ’em, ma’am.”

She stared at him. Did he say a truckload? No, she must have OD’d on the fragrance and was hallucinating.

“Ma’am?”

“Show me.”

He frowned. “Show you?”

“The flowers. Show them to me.”

The man turned and led her outside to the back of his delivery van. The doors were open, and when Annie looked in
she saw a veritable ocean of roses in a rainbow of colors. Mouth agape, she turned to the man standing beside her, pointing first at the flowers, then at herself. He grinned and nodded.

Turning back to the roses, Annie finally managed to dredge up her voice. “Sure. Put them all in there.”

Fifteen minutes later the van drove away, the deliveryman having effectively transformed her kitchen into a botanical garden. Annie stared at the beauty surrounding her. She closed her eyes, letting the scent fill her senses.

Opening her eyes, she walked from one huge bouquet to another, fingering the petals, drinking in the variations of hues and tones. It was wonderful. And overwhelming.

She’d seen roses all her life, almost every day Rosebushes adorned her yard, and she always had vases of the lush flowers during blooming season. But she’d never seen them in such abundance. Never been immersed in them. As if she’d fallen inside them, become part of them …

Annie jerked to a stop.

Immersed. Surrounded. A part of the beauty.

There was something there. She couldn’t quite tell what … but something. Grabbing two of the vases, she headed for the door, bumped it open, and made her way to her studio. She set the flowers in the middle of the worktable, then went back inside the house for more.

When the worktable was covered with flowers, Annie pulled a large sheet of white paper in front of her. Lifting her pencil, she focused on the colors, the fragrances, surrounding her.

Then put pencil to paper and let the images flow.

Candy came the next day.

Along with a bone.

Annie was just about to head out to her studio when the gate buzzer sounded. She looked at the clock. Ten-thirty. Just like yesterday.

Kodi raced to the door, barking and circling, certain that whoever was there had come to adore her.

“Whaddya think, girl?” Annie grinned at the dog. “More roses? Or maybe this time it’s a car.”

She wanted to see for herself. So rather than hit the button to open the gate, she opened the door and made her way down the long driveway to the gate. When she saw what awaited her, her mouth dropped open.

Another deliveryman stood there. But what he held in one arm was far better than a car.

Chocolates. Godiva chocolates, to be exact. A huge box of them.

The man’s other arm was laden with what had to be the largest dog bone she’d ever seen.

Annie wasn’t sure who was salivating most—her or Kodi.

As with the flowers, no card was attached. She carried the gifts back inside, her heart tapping out a mix of disquiet and delight. Who, she wondered as she handed the bone to Kodi, was sending all these things? And why?

She watched Kodi carry her treasure to her corner of the kitchen, then lifted the lid from the chocolates. Oh, good golly, where to begin …

Three delectable bites of heaven later, she went to the phone and dialed. She didn’t even let Ryan get a full hello out. “Is Killian there?”

To his credit, Ryan didn’t miss a beat. “Sure is, Annie. Hang on.”

No sooner was Killian on the line than Annie blurted out, “Did you send me flowers?”

“Hello to you too.”

“Killie, did you?”

“From the tone of your voice, I’m not sure I’d admit it if I did. But no, I didn’t. Why?”

She plunked her elbows on the counter. “Someone sent me flowers. And candy.” She paused for effect. “
Godiva
chocolates.”

For a second she thought he’d hung up on her. Then, just
as she was about to ask if he was still there, he broke the silence. “Flowers
and
chocolates. My, my. How
will
you survive such trauma?”