Summer Magic (17 page)

"I heard they took Ebony."
 
His voice was filled with fear and regret.
 
"I heard it's serious."

"You bet it's serious!" she stormed.
 
"So serious Ebony might die.” She swallowed against the knot in her throat.
 
"I...I found her alone...alone and thrashing on the ground.
 
Ebony's got colic, the worst kind..."

He let out a low groan.
 
"Oh, no.
 
Pop lost another horse to colic, about this time last year."

"It's all your fault, Michael!
 
If you'd been taking care of Ebony like you promised your father, this would've never happened."

"Wait a minute!"
 
His jaw dropped.
 
"You're blaming me for what happened to Ebony?"
 
He reached down to grasp her shoulders, but she jerked back.

"Who else?"

"Look, Lisa!
 
Even if I had checked on Ebony earlier tonight, I can't be there every minute with her.
 
Maybe she would've gotten sick after I left.
 
Maybe--"

"That's not the point.
 
The point is you shirked your responsibility."

His eyes sparked with anger.
 
"Don't be so darn smug. You just happened to walk in on Ebony at exactly the right time.
 
That's all."

She had to look away.
 
"Admit it, Michael.
 
Lately you've been so wrapped up in practicing, wrapped up in Rita, Ebony's been the last thing on your mind."

Lisa blinked, amazed at the spite she heard in her voice.
 
Yet she couldn't help it.
 
The anger, the jealousy...it'd been building for too long.

"You promised your father you wouldn't let anything happen to Ebony," she continued.
 
"But now it has.
 
All because of you and Rita.
 
How are you going to explain when your father finds out?"

"Let's leave Rita out of this.
 
And stop getting hysterical.
 
Ebony's different.
 
She's not going to die."

Lisa felt like throttling him.
 
Why couldn't he come to grips with reality?
 
His denial--not only of his responsibility towards Edward Figaro's best show horse, but now the possible consequences of her illness--was infuriating.

"Fine then," she said bluntly.
 
Whatever you say, Michael.
 
I won't bring up Rita again.
 
Goodnight."
 
Wheeling around, she stalked off.

"Lisa, wait!
 
Don't leave!"
 
He sprinted after her, but she kept walking.
 
"Let's talk.
 
I'm sorry.
 
I didn't mean what I said about your getting hysterical.
 
I was just trying to--"

"Don't follow me," she tossed back, cutting him off.

"But why?
 
Can't we at least talk?"

"I'm through talking to you, Michael!
 
Your apologies won't mean squat when Ebony's dead and gone!"

Chapter Nine

"Thanks.
 
I will."
 
She poured a cup of the strong hot brew and sipped gratefully.
 
Exhausted, she could hardly think straight.
 
The remainder of the night she'd slept fitfully, tossing and turning--thinking about Ebony, thinking about Michael.

All night long, her quarrel with Michael had played through her mind.
 
She'd lashed out in frustration and fear, she knew.
 
This wasn't the first time she'd regretted her impulsive behavior.
 
Yet Michael was responsible for part of the blame, she quickly reminded herself.
 
Some of her accusations had been true.

"Have you heard anything about Ebony?" she asked the veterinarian.
 
She looked up at him over the brim of her coffee mug and searched his face.

"Yes.
 
I phoned the surgical center a little while ago."

Lisa sucked in a deep breath.
 
"And?"

"And the news is good."
 
He smiled as he picked up a blue ceramic mug from the counter and filled it with coffee. "Incredibly good."

"Oh, thank goodness!"

"Yes, I couldn't agree more.
 
I talked with the vet who performed the surgery, a Dr. Fairfield, I believe.
 
She said the intestine was badly contorted, but Ebony pulled through better than expected."

Lisa didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
 
"Gosh, Dr. Woodstock!
 
You'll never know how worried I've been."

He patted her shoulder, his smile growing wider.
 
"Don't be too sure about that, my dear.
 
Your worry showed."

"I'll get the word out to the stable boys and keepers right away," she volunteered.
 
"I'm sure everyone else will want to know."
 
She paused as a new thought intruded.
 
"What about the Figaros?
 
Have they heard yet?"

"Michael has, but I'm not sure about the rest of the family.
 
He stopped by to ask about Ebony nearly an hour ago."

"Was he upset?"

"Terribly.
 
He appeared nearly beside himself...that is, till I could calm him down long enough to pass on the good news."

Serves him right, she thought.
 
But even if Michael's remorse had been sincere, surely he'd already absolved himself, put the horse completely out of his mind, and hurried back to Rita.

Last night while she lay awake she'd determined exactly what she must do.
 
If Ebony did survive, Lisa would stay long enough to be assured of her successful recovery, then turn in her resignation.
 
Day after tomorrow, her probation was up anyway.

 
Most likely she'd have to work two jobs to pull herself out of debt, but somehow she'd find a way.
 
She'd struggle through whatever sacrifices were necessary to cloister herself from more heartache.
 
Fat chance Michael would try to come after her--regardless of what Claudette had thought in the beginning.

"Lisa, before we get to work, may I have a word with you?"
 
Dr. Woodstock's voice broke though her troubled thoughts.

"Uh...sure."

He pulled out a ladder-back chair from behind his desk. It screeched against the tiled floor.
 
"Please make yourself comfortable."

Hesitantly she sat down.
 
From behind the desk, an old transistor radio played.

The vet paused to turn the volume down, then hitched himself onto a stool across from her.
 
"I know I've been kind of tough on you, but as I'm sure you've discovered, this work is not for the faint-hearted."

"Yes, I certainly have."
 
She lifted one shoulder. "But I wasn't totally blind, Dr. Woodstock.
 
Even in the beginning, I never expected a bed of roses.
 
I was just a little naive as to exactly how hard it would be."
 
A woman's lilting voice on the radio was announcing the weather forecast.

"Good."
 
He clasped his hands behind his head and pursed his lips.
 
"Then at least you didn't come here with any false expectations.
 
Perhaps you already know that the other two assistants I hired this past year didn't work out.
 
They both left voluntarily."

"Uh-huh, I heard."

"They were young, lacking experience with zoo and circus animals--just like you," he continued.
 
He studied her for a long, contemplative moment, then readjusted his dark- framed glasses.
 
"And as far as I'm concerned, there's no point waiting any longer to talk about your work here."

Her heart sank.
 
Though Dr. Woodstock hadn't a clue about her decision yet, she had hoped to leave in his good graces.

"All right, then."
 
She lifted her chin.
 
"I'll check into flight arrangements as soon as I can."

"No, no!
 
I didn't mean that."

"Oh?"

"Of course not!"
 
His face melted into a kind squint. "Last night, you removed any doubt I may have had about you." He fixed her with an apologetic look.
 
"If it hadn't been for your quick action, getting Ebony back onto her feet and walking her, she would've surely died.
 
You're doing an outstanding job, Lisa.
 
I want you to stay.
 
Without question."

"You do?"
 
Her voice squeaked.
 
The radio played on, this time an old Elton John tune.

"Yes.
 
And...and I'm sorry if I made life hard for you these past several weeks.
 
I don't mean to come off so gruff, but sometimes I'm afraid I do."

"You're exhausted, just like me," she said, her voice fringed with new understanding.

"Perhaps.
 
But I won't attempt to make excuses for myself.
 
I guess the reason the other assistants left was partly my fault too.
 
Despite what they say about not teaching old dogs new tricks, I do intend to change.
 
I promise you things will improve.
 
You and me...we're going to make a terrific team, Lisa.
 
I really mean that."

She let out a long, weary sigh.
 
"Oh, Dr. Woodstock. Thank you for the vote of confidence.
 
Your encouragement means a lot to me.
 
But--but..." She faltered, uncertain how to go on.
 
At last she informed him about her decision to resign. "I guess I'm not cut out for a life of continuous travel after all," she added, side-stepping the real issue.
 
"I'm worn-out, and maybe a little homesick also.
 
Michael told me that someday all the towns and freeways would start to look the same."
 
She let her breath out slowly.
 
"Well, I guess he was right."

"Are you sure, my dear?"
 
His dark brown eyes mirrored his disappointment.
 
"Are you sure I'm not the reason?"

"I'm positive."

He cleared his throat.
 
"Won't you give it a little while longer till you make your final decision?
 
I realize it's been quite an adjustment.
 
It was for me when I first came here five years ago, too, but I guarantee it, the worst is over."

The disc jockey was announcing the next song.
 
In minutes the familiar lyrics drifted into the clinic. "
Galveston, Oh Galveston
..."

Suddenly she felt the Texas heat warming her face, heard the waves crashing onto the beach, and saw Michael's face smiling down at her as they ran barefoot through the moist cool sand.

A swirl of emotion washed over her.
 
She would hold onto the memory forever, tuck it safely away in a secret corner of her heart.
 
And at some point in time, during that long, lonely future that stretched bleakly ahead, she would take it out again.
 
She'd dust it off, remember, and smile through her tears.
 
But not even memories could change the bitter truth.
 
Michael would never be hers.
 
Not as long as she lived.