Sweet Christmas Kisses (51 page)

“Sally, have you ever heard a rumor that I'm a bad veterinarian?” Joanna clenched the phone between her ear and her shoulder and threw her dirty laundry into the washing machine. She couldn't bring herself to say “poisoned Spicy”. The words stuck in her throat. 

“Horse who?” Sally munched something.

“What?” Joanna pressed the phone closer to her ear. “I don't understand a single word if you add a huge bite of toast to every sentence.”

Sally swallowed. “You don't want me to starve, do you? It's nine o'clock on a Sunday morning, and if I leave my toast until we're done, it'll be all soft and mushy. I hate mushy toast, besides, . . . “

“It's an emergency.” Joanna said. “Have you heard anything? Anything at all? Think.”

“No, of course not.” Sally sounded impatient. “Did you have a bad dream? I don't get this.”

“My clinic is dying.” Joanna filled laundry soap into the machine, then started it and closed the door of the bathroom behind her.

“What?”

“Last week, I had less patients than ever before.” Joanna tried to suppress the tremor in her voice. “Something is going on, and yesterday, the Allards told me that they believed in me, 'in spite of everything people say'. I thought I would faint.”

“Who said that?”

“The Allards. I told you about them. He's the horse breeder who has a herd of highland-cattle as a hobby.”

“Oh, that one.” Sally bit off another piece of her toast with a crunching sound.

Joanna suppressed a sigh and braced herself for another unintelligible sentence.

“Didn't you shay he'sh in shome way related to Conran?”

“Yeah.” Her heart constricted. “Why?”

“Maybe,” Sally swallowed, “maybe he told them so.”

“No way.” Joanna dropped onto her sofa and folded her legs underneath her. “Besides, the problem started well before I got to know him. I remember thinking about it the day I woke up in his house, the day after the storm.”

“Are you sure people are talking about you? Maybe it's just a seasonal ebb or so.” Sally finally started to sound concerned. Maybe she had finished her toast so she could now focus on other things.

Joanna took a deep breath.
I have to tell her.
“Something else happened. A boy next door asked me if I 'had really poisoned Spicy'.”

“What?” Sally yelped. “Say that again.”

Joanna clenched her teeth. “People say I poisoned Spicy.”

“But why?”

Joanna shrugged. “I have no clue.”

Sally banged on something metallic. The toaster? “I've never heard anything of the kind! I can't imagine who would do such a thing. How nasty is that? How mean? I can't think of anybody who would . . . “ she cut herself off. “Oh.”

“You think it could be Hugh.” Joanna swallowed.

Sally hesitated. “Don't you?”

“Yeah.” Joanna felt sick. “I thought so, too, though I find it difficult to believe.”

“What? Don't tell me you still believe in his integrity.” Sally sounded as if she was going to throw her treasured toast against the wall in exasperation.

“Not his integrity, no.” Joanna rubbed her forehand with one hand. “But I believe in his strong sense of self-preservation. He would never do anything that would risk his reputation.”

“Unless it means sleeping with a singer.”

Joanna gulped.

“Gosh, I'm sorry, Jo. I didn't mean to be so brutal.”

“You're right.” Joanna took a deep breath to get rid of that dizzy feeling inside her head. “I . . . I meant he wouldn't risk a libel suit.”

“We-ell.” Sally crunched on her second toast. “I think you're right there.” A mug clanked, then Sally added. “So, where does this leave us? If it's not Conran and not Hugh, who wishes you harm?”

Joanna shrugged. She'd never felt so helpless before. “I don't know. I thought it might be the owner of some animal I had not managed to cure.”

“That's an idea.” The sound of steps came through the receiver. “Listen, Jo, I'm truly sorry, but I have to go. I promised my mother I would take her to church, and then, I have to go and help her buy that unmentionable rubber tree.”

Joanna bit her lips. “I thought you'd done that already?”

“My mother couldn't make up her mind.” Sally sighed. “Talk about something new. Anyway, I'll ask around to get to the source of that rumor, and if I hear anything, I'll tell you, okay?”

“Okay.” Joanna didn't want her to hang up. She would feel so lonely.

Sally hesitated. “Are you all right?”

“Sure.”

“What about Conran? Heard anything?”

“No. In fact, I . . . I tried to fly to LA yesterday.”

“You did what?”

Sally's shriek was so loud, it hurt. Joanna made a face and held the receiver away from her ear. “I wanted to talk to him, so I booked a flight to LA, but Mr. Allard's bull needed an emergency-operation, that's why I couldn't go after all.”

“I don't believe this!” Sally banged against something. “How can you prefer a bull to Conran Dark?”

Joanna tried a smile, but it came out awry. “You've asked me that before. The clinic is my livelihood. I can't just drop it like that.”

“But he might be the man of your life!”

“Yeah, I know.” The feeling of helplessness inside Joanna rose. “But does that mean I have to give up the job of my life? What if he doesn't believe me? Then I'll end up without a man AND a job.” She sighed. “Though that might happen anyway, the way things are going  right now.”

Sally banged a door. “You have to fight for your happiness, Jo!”

“I will.” Joanna squared her shoulders. “I'll book another flight for next weekend.”

“And provided there won't be another sick bull, you'll really fly this time.” Sally's voice sounded ironic.

“Exactly.”

Sally sighed. “Let's pray the bulls will all be healthy next weekend.”

“It looks as if Fergus will make it; that's the most important thing.”

“Fergus?”

“Mr. Allard's bull.”

Sally sighed. “Of course.” Suddenly, she hissed in her breath with a sharp sound. “Gosh, we're so stupid. You can't go, Joanna!”

Joanna sat up straight. “Why not?”

“The Christmas dinner! It's next Saturday.”

Joanna closed her eyes. A wave of defeat swept over her.

“Jo? Are you still there?”

“Yes. What's left of me.” She felt like a flattened plastic ball with a hole.

“Listen, Jo, we'll find a way to get in touch with Conran.” Sally sounded a bit feverish in her reassurance. “Don't worry. And about that other thing – I'll sniff around. If I hear anything, I'll call you right away.”

Joanna sighed. “Thanks.” Then she lifted her shoulders and let them fall again in a gesture of defeat. “I just wonder if it's any use. After all, you didn't hear any rumor about Hugh having an affair, did you?”

“No, of course I didn't.” Sally sounded indignant. “Otherwise I would have told you.”

“That's what I thought.” Joanna shook her head. “Isn't it a bit strange that you are usually informed about everything that goes on in town, but when it comes to me, you don't hear anything? I wonder if people hush things up because you're too close to me. You know, the concerned party is often the last to know. Maybe people believe you're a concerned party, too, because you're my best friend.”

“Rubbish.” Sally banged another door shut. “After all, I heard all about you kissing Conran, long before you told me.”

The day of the Christmas dinner was so windy, it blew Joanna's hair into a crazy brown twirl above her head as she ran to the big barn her father had rented for the night. The barn was an old and creaking building, its wooden planks painted dark-red. The corrugated metal roof had become dull with time and now looked as gray as the hurrying clouds overhead. Every time another big cloud threw itself in front of the sun, it became dark, and when it galloped on, the snow on the fields around the barn started to glisten again. It had a curious effect, as if someone was switching the light on and off all the time. Joanna paused for an instant before she opened the small entrance door that had been cut right into the middle of the big barn door. Her hand on the rough wood, she took another breath of fresh air. This was  the last private moment for the next hours, and she tried to gather her strength. Her father would be nervous and would command everybody around, and she would have to keep her feelings under iron control. She missed Conran so much, it was like a physical ache, a void inside her that hurt with every breath. All week long, she had continued to act and work and smile, feeling like an empty shell, pretending to be human, knowing she was only a well-oiled machine, but it had not become any better, and she had not learned anything else about the rumor that threatened to kill her livelihood. 

She slipped through the door and made sure she closed it again with care. Her father installed big heaters every year and started them early in the afternoon, but it was still a job to heat up the freezing building. It was crazy, really, to organize a big Christmas dinner in the barn, but by now, it was a tradition everybody loved. It had all started some eight or nine years ago, when the banquet hall in the Town Hotel had caught fire one night before the Christmas dinner. Desperate to find something else for all the food he had prepared, her father had hired the barn, put in a wooden floor and ten heaters, had built up the buffet in one end and a dancing floor in the other, and had changed the Christmas dinner into one big party, more rustic than elegant, but with the same perfect food. They loved it. So much so, that the next year, Mr. Damanti decided to repeat it just like that again.

Joanna suppressed a sigh. Of course it was charming and special (if you came with woolen underwear, that is), but it was also a lot of work as everything had to be carried to the barn – and out of it again. Thank God most of the preparations were done now. Joanna had gone back home to take a shower and to put on her special Christmas dinner outfit – comfortable shoes with thick soles (essential), black leggings, a long-sleeved but tight black top, and a loose dress that she often described as “my loopy golden dress”. It was made of a special fabric that combined thousands of golden loops, one after the other. It glittered in the light and shimmered with every move, but best of all, it made her look sexy without showing an inch of skin, something essential when working the whole night in a drafty barn.

Three hours later, the barn was full with people. It smelled of Damanti's special Italian dishes, of hot candle wax, and perfume. Joanna thread her way through the tables, clearing away dishes and empty glasses and returning them to the makeshift bar next to the buffet.

She had by now developed a good ear for the atmosphere in a restaurant crowd and knew the signs were good. Laughter, the clinking of cutlery, red cheeks, and smiling faces showed her that people were having a good time. Dad would be happy. The whole town seemed to be here. She could see Sally, chatting to some neighbors in the middle of the barn. Joanna gave an extra blanket to Mrs. Allard who had hunched her shoulders as if she was cold. Then she organized another ice-cream for Tim who sat next to his Granny and surveyed everything as if he wanted to remember every single detail from now until eternity. Joanna wondered if he kept a little notebook to record everything. She stretched and looked around. Most of the guests had finished their meals; it was time to start the dancing music.

But before doing that, she would take a few minutes for herself, would sit down and drink a glass of water. With the glass cool and moist in her hand, she found an overturned box sturdy enough to hold her, pulled it behind the bar, sat on it, and leaned her back against the wall. Phew. Two minutes. She didn't ask for more. She leaned her head against the wooden wall of the barn and closed her eyes. The image of Conran appeared in front of her inner eye; the way he had looked at her; the way the wind had whipped through his hair. Exasperated, she shook her head.
Every time I'm not one hundred percent focused on something, he slips into my mind
. She couldn't do anything against it. If only it didn't hurt so much.

“You'll understand that I can't comment on that.” Hugh's refined accents floated over the bar.

Joanna frowned and opened her eyes. She could not see him, but he had to be just behind the bar, to her right hand side.

“I bet you know more about this, Hugh.” An unknown voice, a woman. “I mean, there's no smoke without fire, and everybody says Ms. Damanti poisoned him.” Her voice was agog with curiosity.

Joanna froze.

“As I said, I can't comment,” Hugh's voice sounded relaxed. “You will understand that in my professional capacity, I have to make sure to keep on neutral ground.”

Joanna held her breath.

“But you were engaged to her at the time.” The woman was insistent, her tone a bit flirty. “Don't tell me you have no idea?”

“My dear Teresa, I can only repeat that I can't comment.”

Joanna could tell by the way his voice changed that he was smiling now.

He added, “Isn't that enough of a statement?”

A cold hand had gripped Joanna's heart and was squeezing it. He could hardly be more damning.

“People say you cut off your engagement after you've learned the truth.” The woman's voice got more insistent.

“Is that so?” Hugh's voice became a purr. “Interesting.”

Joanna pressed her hand against her mouth. He made it sound as if he was a squeaky-clean hero who refused to throw mud on his ex-fiancé.

“Is it true?” Teresa asked again.

“My dear Teresa . . . my very dear Teresa. You have to make up your mind whom you trust. As I said, there are some things I can't discuss.”

“You're a cool one.” The woman laughed. “Everybody knows you're allergic to dog hair, so she killed her dog. He was an obstacle on her road to happiness. That's what I heard, and I want to know if it's true.”

Joanna gagged.
They think I poisoned my Spicy, so Hugh could move in with me? How sick is that?

A slight movement next to her made her turn her head.

Tim slipped into the free space between the bar and her overturned box.