One Day in Apple Grove (3 page)

The wizened old man’s face wrinkled up as he smiled, and she gave in to the urge and wrapped her arms around his neck before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Well now,” he said, patting her back and clearing his throat. “I’d say Joe Mulcahy raised three wonderful young women who aren’t afraid to work with their hands—or get dirty.”

“He’d be pleased to hear it,” she said, thinking about this morning.

“Don’t you fret about that F1, Caitlin.” Her gaze shot up to his, and from the look on his face, he knew the whole sorry story. His words confirmed it. “The hardest lessons are often the only ones we take to heart.” With a nudge to her shoulders, he urged her toward her car. “I’m sure Grace has a full schedule for you. Best be getting to it.”

“Thanks, Mr. Weatherbee.”

“Drive safely, you hear?”

“Yes, sir.” Apple Grove seemed smaller by the day.

With a sigh she drove back to town. When she stopped in to pick up more supplies, she realized that Grace had added the cold shoulder to the silent treatment. Just because Grace was without a car for the day—as if her sister couldn’t walk anywhere she needed to go in town.

Little sisters could be such a pain.

Feeling a little bit better now that the F1 was in Bob’s capable hands, but not quite ready to face her father—she really hated to disappoint him—she took the long way home. When an oldie came on the radio, she sang along and felt the day’s problems start to unravel. The ship’s mast Mr. McCormack used in place of a scarecrow came into view. Approaching the McCormack farm, she slowed down. Peggy and Kate’s dad had been in the fields plowing earlier, and Cait drew in a deep breath, comforted by the scent of fresh-turned dirt.

More kids than she could remember had snuck out in the middle of the night to climb up to the crow’s nest on a dare—her older sister, Meg, included. Thinking about how much trouble Meg had gotten into that time, having been rescued by the then-deputy Mitch Wallace—his first juvenile delinquent rescue, according to Mitch—made her feel just a little bit better.

Dusk lent a certain mystical quality to the air. Driving past the newly planted fields, she could just imagine faeries flitting about, waving magic wands over the earth, pond, and trees as vines, flowers, and buds burst into bloom. Letting her imagination wander, she almost didn’t see the car parked at the side of the road until she was just about to pass it.

Only one car in town had a paint job like that: Doc Gannon’s Jeep. Meg told her his friends had painted it in army camo as a joke to welcome him home after his first tour.

Why had he stopped? She pulled off the road in front of his vehicle, got out, and started to look for him.

“Hey, Doc—where are you?”

The silence had her gut icing over before she chastised herself that people only parked their cars and disappeared in the movies…like the one she’d watched while trying to unwind after a long night in her woodshop.

She called out again, “Do you need help?”

When he still didn’t answer, she pulled out her cell phone. If anyone had gotten sick out on Eden Church Road, Peggy would have heard and would let her know. She was about to hit the speed dial when she heard a deep shout coming from across the road.

Turning toward the sound, she was knocked off balance by a small, black, fuzzy missile. Wrapping her arms around the animal so it wouldn’t get hurt when she landed, her backside took the brunt of the impact—and so did her phone when it hit the pavement. Luckily, it was still in one piece.

“Hey,” she said, as she looked down at the quivering puppy in her arms. “Where did you come from?”

The puppy’s tiny pink tongue bathed her face, and he nipped the end of her nose. When Cait laughed, the puppy did it again. She snuggled him close and reached for her phone.

“Don’t let go of him!”

His deep voice grabbed her attention. The tall, broad-shouldered man moving across the road toward her looked worried. Cait remembered how upset the whole town had been to hear of his injury. Reverend Smith had even started a prayer chain. Had Doc aggravated his wound somehow by chasing the puppy? She took in his broad shoulders and tall frame. Yes, he was limping but trying to ignore it.

She’d known Jack Gannon all her life—well, a younger version, before he enlisted—but for some reason, she didn’t remember him looking so ruggedly handsome. Had she only seen what she expected to in those brief glimpses of him those few times he’d been home on leave? There was definitely more here than she remembered.

Coming to stand beside her, he stared down at her for a moment before holding his hand out to her. “Are you all right?”

She had to clear her throat to answer. “Yes, I’m fine. But what about you? What happened?”

He chuckled and it sounded rusty, as though he wasn’t used to laughing. “The little rascal ran out in front of me,” he explained, pulling Cait to her feet. “I had to swerve not to hit him. I’ve been chasing him for the last fifteen minutes. Thanks for catching him.”

“All I did was show up. He’s the one who decided to jump into my arms.” She jiggled the puppy she held. “Hey, fella. What’re you doing out here?”

Jack smiled, revealing a deep dimple.

“Wait a minute. Are you Meg’s sister Caitlin?”

She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and hated that she blushed. “Yes, I am. And you’re Apple Grove’s hometown hero. We’ve been waiting for you. Welcome home, Doc.”

A dark shadow crossed his features as his lips thinned and a grimace took the place of his smile, catching her off guard. What had she said that changed his mood?

“I’m no hero.” He let go of her arm.

Unsure of how to continue, she looked up at the sky. “They’re saying we’ll have rain by midnight.”

He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. The silence weighed heavily between them. Wanting to get back to the friendly banter of just a few minutes ago, she asked, “So how was your first day back in town?”

He sighed. “I guess everyone in Apple Grove knows I got back last night.”

She smiled. “If they didn’t, Peggy and Kate wouldn’t be doing their jobs down at gossip central.”

He tilted his head to the side and his features softened—not quite a smile, but no longer frowning. The late afternoon sun glinted off his crew cut. She didn’t remember his hair having a reddish tint. How many other things had she forgotten over the years or not paid attention to?

He cleared his throat and said, “I heard about your grandfather’s truck.”

“Everyone makes mistakes—” she began only to be interrupted.

“When you’re in the service, you’re not at liberty to make poor decisions. You need to do the right thing, at the right time—second chances aren’t always an option.”

The bleak look in his eyes darkened their hue to midnight blue.
Was
he
remembering
something
from
his
time
in
the
navy?
“Is that why you’re limping?”

Anger flashed in the depths of his gaze, warning her she’d either hit the nail on the head or was completely off the mark and had insulted him. Before she could ask, he ground out, “No.”

“Sorry,” she said, nuzzling her face in the soft fur of the little one she’d been neglecting. “Did you twist your ankle chasing after this little cutie?”

The dog chose that moment to lift his head and stare up at her. His head was cocked to the side, making his ears flop to the left, but it was his underbite and little black lips that had her forgetting all about Doc’s flinty-eyed stare. Melting into a warm puddle, she kissed the tip of the puppy’s nose.

“No.”

Startled by the hard edge in his reply, she looked up in time to see a mix of anger and anguish before Doc blinked and she was left to wonder if she’d imagined it. It was time to change the subject. “What are we going to do?”

***

It was telling that Caitlin used “we,” including him in the dilemma of what to do with the dog. “Now that he’s not running wild, let’s see if he has a collar.”

He let the dog sniff the back of his hand before stroking the soft fur on its neck. “Good boy,” he soothed. “We want to help you.”

“No collar,” she said. She tilted her head and looked up at him, and for a brief moment, he was lost in her pretty green eyes.

Wavy wisps of strawberry blonde hair escaped the braid hanging over her shoulder blades and curled against her cheek and neck. The sudden urge to tuck those wisps behind her ear had him reining in his wayward thoughts. Caitlin Mulcahy had grown up while he’d been away.

“We could call the sheriff and ask if there are any reports of a lost puppy.”

Distracted by the fullness of her bottom lip, her words didn’t register until she narrowed her eyes and reached into her pocket.
Idiot
, he told himself
.
She’s worried about the puppy.

The call had already gone through before he could think of a response. “Hi Cindy,” he heard her say. “It’s Cait. We just found a little puppy out on Eden Church Road. Any reports of a little black dog gone missing?”

His mind raced at warp speed, trying to come up with a way to keep her with him for just a little while longer.

She disconnected and looked up at him. “No one reported a missing dog.” She hesitated. “Grace is allergic to dogs…it’s why we don’t have one and why I can’t take him home.” She paused, then laid a hand on his arm. “What are we going to do? We can’t just leave him here.”

Now her question made perfect sense. She’d asked it of him before he realized the depth of her dilemma. “I can take him to my house,” he said slowly, pleased that she still held on to his forearm, whether it was intentional or not. “But with my long hours, he’ll be left alone all day. That’s not a good idea with a puppy—he could get into all kinds of trouble. Maybe you could check up on him in between your repair calls.”

A slight squeeze and then the warmth of her touch vanished. He missed the connection and sincerely hoped Cait would take him up on his suggestion. Feeling oddly energized, he wondered if it was because he hadn’t had a dog since before he’d left for the navy or because Caitlin would be forced to spend time with him, allowing him the luxury of exploring the confusing feelings bombarding him where the lady was concerned.

It was a win-win situation either way.

“Gracie usually gives me just enough time to get from one job to the next,” she said, settling the puppy more securely in her arms. “But we’ve had words over the fact that I can’t keep doing Meg’s jobs and my own.”

He nodded. “Is that why you scratched the truck?” The wave of red sweeping up her throat to her cheeks made him wonder if her temper would match her older sister’s. Instead of taking a step back and dropping the subject, he added, “I don’t think anyone’s ever had an accident with your grandfather’s truck.”

“I didn’t hit anyone.”

He fought against the urge to smile. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her—he was simply enjoying her display of temper. “Sorry,” he said, scratching the puppy’s head. “So are you going to tell me what happened?”

She started walking toward her car, puppy cuddled against her. When she was about to open the driver’s side door, he called out to her, “I thought Grace was allergic to dogs?”

She paused and her shoulders slumped. He was right behind her when she grumbled, “Damn it.”

The snort of laughter escaped. Before she could get her back up, he eased the puppy from her arms and walked to the passenger side of her car. Cradling the dog against his chest, he opened the door, settled the pup on the seat and locked him in. When she frowned at him, he told her, “Follow me,” as he opened his driver’s side door.

Unsure if she would, he made sure to drive at a snail’s pace for the first couple of minutes until he saw that she had pulled out behind him and was indeed following him home. The woman Caitlin had become intrigued him.

He’d been blindsided when she’d looked up at him with the ball of black fluff in her arms. The contrast of black and strawberry blonde caught his attention—and then she’d smiled up at him. Steadier now that there was enough distance between them, he gradually picked up speed until he was cruising along Eden Church Road toward the railroad tracks.

He’d bought his parents’ house from them when they’d told him their plans to retire. It was closer to the church than the center of town, but he loved the rambling old Victorian with the two-acre yard and detached garage. He’d spent his childhood exploring their yard and the trees just beyond, getting into scrapes and stumbling home with stories of the pretend battles he’d fought against imaginary foes. Little did he realize that he would relive that part of his life across the ocean in a land he could never have conjured up in his ten-year-old mind—in battles that were very, very real.

Flicking on his turn signal, he slowed down and eased his Jeep onto his street, grateful that he would have a few minutes to bury the distracting memories—both recent and childhood—before Caitlin pulled up alongside him in his driveway.

He got out and opened her door as she was reaching across the seat to pick up the little black dog. The little ball of fuzz nibbled on her braid. She was laughing as she corrected the pup and Jack wondered if he’d gone off the deep end or just broken through the surface and was experiencing life anew.

Unsure of himself for the first time since he’d shipped out on his first tour as a corpsman attached to a marine unit, he dug deep to keep his emotions under control.
Rough
water
ahead, mate
, he cautioned himself
. Don’t get too close to the siren on the rocks—you’ll go down for sure!

Caitlin smiled up at him as she scooted out of her car, her arms filled with the wriggling little dog, and thoughts of sea sirens and mermaids filled his tired brain, twinning with the image of Caitlin’s long, wavy, strawberry-kissed hair streaming out around her. Shaking his head to clear it, he said, “Let’s see if we can find something for him to sleep in tonight.”

Unaware of the direction of his thoughts, the middle Mulcahy sister snuggled the puppy close to her heart and walked toward the house. “A box with an old blanket would probably work for this little guy.”