Whenever You Come Around (20 page)

“All right, Cocoa. I’ll try not to hurt you more.”

The dog whimpered in pain as he lifted her, even jerked her head as if she wanted to snap at him but didn’t have the strength.

“It’s okay, Cocoa. It’s okay.”

The hardest part was getting her through the fence. After that, Buck moved at a fast walk toward the house. As he slipped through the gate, he had another decision to make. Go into his house and call the vet or awaken Charity and call the vet from her place. No, there really wasn’t a choice. He had to take Cocoa to her mistress now.

In the moonlight, he saw that the window of a second-story bedroom was open to the night air. Had to be Charity’s room since no one else was home. He stopped beneath it and called out, “Charity. I found Cocoa. Let me in.”

It took only a few moments for her head to appear in the opening.

“She’s hurt, Charity. Let me in. We need to call the vet.”

Without a word, she was gone, no doubt running for the stairs. By the time Buck had climbed the few steps on the back stoop, the door had opened before him.

When Charity saw the now-bloody T-shirt wrapped around Cocoa, she covered her mouth with one hand, as
if trying to hold back her shock. But a moment later, she removed her hand, saying, “Put her on the table. What’s the name of the vet?”

“I’ll call him.” Buck placed the dog on the kitchen table. “You stay with Cocoa. She’ll be easier with you near.” He went to the phone, picked up the handset, and punched in the number. He knew it by heart.

The vet answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Devon. It’s Buck Malone. We’ve got an injured dog here at the Anderson place. Looks to me like she got into a scrape with a bear. She’s got a deep gash on her back and a broken leg. Shall I bring her to the clinic?”

“No. I’ll come to you. I just finished an emergency call and was about to head home. Give me ten minutes.” The vet hung up without saying good-bye.

Buck turned around. “He’s on his way.”

Leaning over Cocoa while stroking the dog’s head, Charity glanced up. “A bear?”

“Most likely.”

“Where did you find her?”

“Beyond my back fence. The McClellan property.”

She rubbed Cocoa’s ear between two fingers as she straightened. “How did you happen to look there?”

“Just a hunch.” He shrugged. “A feeling I couldn’t ignore.”

Thank you
, she mouthed before her gaze returned to the dog on the table. “Hold on, Cocoa. The vet will be here soon.”

I
T WAS LONG AFTER MIDNIGHT BY THE TIME
D
R
. Devon Parry drove away from the Anderson home, his
sedated patient’s back stitched and bandaged, her leg secured with a splint. When Charity could no longer see the lights of the vet’s truck, she turned back into the house. Buck was in the kitchen, rubbing disinfectant spray that the vet had left across the table surface. He stopped when he saw her.

“Better not tell your mother that her kitchen became an operating room for a dog.” He gave her a teasing smile.

Surprisingly, she laughed, even as tears welled in her eyes. “Agreed. It’ll be our secret.”

Tenderness filled his expression. “Cocoa’s going to be all right.”

“Thanks to you.” She swallowed the hot lump in her throat.

He resumed wiping.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s late. You should go home and get some sleep. You’ve done so much already.”

Her hand covered the back of his and he stopped still.

When had she leaned across the table? How had her lips moved so close to his?

A muscle jerked in his jaw. His gaze seemed hot upon her skin. She drew back slightly, then was pulled by some invisible means toward him again.

Their lips met. Only their lips. Softly. Sweetly.

The room seemed to hold its breath right along with the two people in it.

Yes, she held her breath. Held it for a long time. Too long. What else could explain the dizziness that swept over her? The weakness in her knees. The inability to string a rational thought together. When Buck drew back, Charity sucked in air, all the while wishing he would make her hold her breath again with another kiss.

No. No, she shouldn’t want him to kiss her again. Didn’t want him to. His friendship had become important to her. She didn’t want to lose it. And she would lose it if she allowed him to think they could enjoy a brief summer fling. She straightened—and almost fell over a chair. Instead, she dropped onto it.

“Hey,” Buck said, “are you all right?” He rounded the table, looking concerned.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She lifted a hand to ward him off. “It’s just . . . It’s been a difficult night. I’m tired. I think you’d better go.”

His eyes narrowed. A crease appeared between his brows. “Sure. Of course.” He took a step back. “You’ll let me know how Cocoa’s doing?”

She nodded.

“Good night, Charity.”

“Good night,” she whispered, lowering her gaze to her hands, folded in her lap.

A few moments later, she heard the closing of the back door. Silence surrounded her. So silent she could hear her own breathing. The emptiness was almost too painful to bear. She needed Cocoa.

But she wanted Buck.

B
UCK STOOD IN HIS BACKYARD, STARING AT THE
Anderson home. He saw when the kitchen light went off. He saw the light go on in the second-floor bedroom, then moments later go out again.

I
shouldn’t have kissed her. The timing was all wrong
.

He would blame it on how adorable she’d looked in her blue-and-white print pajama bottoms and oversized T-shirt with the image of a kitten stamped on the front. Her long hair had fallen free over her shoulders and down her back, delightfully disheveled. And with the crisis over, with her hand on top of his, it had been the most natural thing in the world to lean close and kiss her.

He’d thought she wanted it too. There was no doubt that she’d kissed him back. No doubt. And she hadn’t pushed him away. So why, all of a sudden, had her defenses gone up?

“You confuse me, Charity Anderson.”

He swiveled on his heel and went into the house. But he didn’t return to the bedroom. It would be pointless to try to sleep now. Instead, he started a pot of decaf brewing, grabbed his Bible off the bookshelf in the living room, and sat down at the kitchen table. Maybe he could glean a nugget or two of wisdom from between its covers. His instincts obviously weren’t enough in this situation.

“I like her, God. I like her a lot. Maybe I’m even falling in love with her. I never wanted that to happen, but maybe You do.”

Willie Nelson’s voice snuck into his head, singing,
“To all the girls I’ve loved before
.”

He sighed. “Lots of girls, lots of women, but nobody I’ve loved. I thought that was all I wanted. I thought it would keep my heart safe. I’m not so sure anymore.”

With another sigh, he opened the battered leather cover of his Bible, flipping through the pages until he arrived at 1 Corinthians 13. The famous love chapter. Had he ever attended a wedding where at least a few of those verses
weren’t used during the ceremony? Not one he remembered, anyway.

He began to read, slowly, with purpose, meditating on a verse or two at a time, going back, reading them again. He measured himself against the highest ideal represented in the chapter and mentally winced. Patient and kind. Never jealous or arrogant. Not wanting his own way and never taking into account a wrong suffered. Added all together, that was a tall order.

But he thought it would be worth trying with Charity. Now all he had to do was make her want to do the same with him.

Chapter 20

T
HE
K
INGS
M
EADOW
A
NIMAL
C
LINIC WAS LOCATED
south of town on Old Fitzgibbon Road. Owned by Devon Parry, the veterinary clinic was equipped for the care of both small and large animals, although much of the vet’s large-animal work was still conducted by visits to the ranches and farms he served.

Charity arrived at nine o’clock at the vet clinic, just as the receptionist was unlocking the front door. Devon himself led her to a back room where cages lined two walls. Most of them were empty, and Charity spied Cocoa almost at once. The dog lifted her head and whimpered as Charity approached.

“Hello, girl,” she said softly.

Cocoa’s right leg was in a cast. A large portion of her back and side had been shaved in Charity’s mom’s kitchen, revealing pink flesh and a row of neat stitches that closed the wound.

She squatted beside the cage. “May I open the door?”

“As long as she doesn’t get too excited. We want her to stay quiet.”

“She’ll stay if I tell her to.” Charity reached for the latch. “Cocoa, stay.” She lifted the handle and slid the latch to the side. Cocoa slapped her tail on the floor of her cage three times in slow succession. Charity stroked the dog’s head. “How long will she need to stay?”

“I’d like to keep an eye on her for a couple of days. Just to make sure the wound doesn’t get infected. Don’t worry. We’ll take good care of her.”

“I know.” She stared into Cocoa’s eyes, willing the dog to understand why she had to stay in a cage in this bright, white, ultra-clean room. “So I should be able to come get her Saturday?”

“Yes, as long as she doesn’t start running a fever.”

Charity drew in a long breath and gave Cocoa a few more strokes as a farewell. After latching the cage door, she stood. Cocoa sighed and closed her eyes.

“She’s a lucky dog,” the vet said. “Could have ended much worse than this.”

“I don’t understand how she got out of the yard, let alone why she tangled with a bear.”

“Maybe Cocoa thought you were in danger. A bear sniffing around close by is probably all it would take. From what Buck said, she’s protective of you. Isn’t that what caused his fall when he broke his ankle? Wasn’t Cocoa trying to protect you?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

In unison, they turned toward the front office and started walking.

Devon said, “I let the sheriff know there was a bear attack on a dog and that folks should be on the lookout.”

At the exit, Charity bid the vet a good day and then went to her car. She didn’t feel like going home to the empty house. When she’d arrived in Kings Meadow in early June, she’d made a point of discouraging any and all visitors from dropping by, claiming the need for privacy while she worked. It hadn’t taken a great deal of effort on her part for that word to get around, and folks had honored her request for solitude. But now she wished for company.

However, the person she wanted to see most was the same person she most wanted to avoid: Buck.

So instead she went to see Sara again. Perhaps, in part, she wanted more than the company of a good friend. Perhaps it was a sort of test. Would her confession to Terri make seeing the baby easier this time? Had all of her soul-searching changed her for the better, perhaps made her stronger?

It didn’t take long to drive to Sara’s. A couple of cars were in the driveway, so she parked at the curb. It was the oldest girl, Krista, who answered the door.

“Hi. Is your mom—” Charity began.

“She’s in the kitchen.” Leaving the door open, the girl hurried toward the family room, the sounds of a video game, and teenage laughter.

Smiling to herself, Charity said, “Thanks,” although she doubted she was heard. Then she followed the hall to the kitchen.

Sara, seated at the table near a bay window, saw Charity just before she stepped into the room. “Hi, Charity.”

Charity was about to reply when another step brought
Ashley Holloway into view. Before her on the table was an open three-ring binder, filled with pages and multicolored dividers.

“Get yourself a cup of coffee and come join us,” Sara said.

Ashley added, “Sara’s helping me with final details for the reunion. We’d love your input too.”

A little disappointed that she wouldn’t have Sara all to herself, Charity went to the coffeepot, took a mug from a wooden mug tree nearby, and reached for the carafe. After filling the mug with coffee and adding some creamer, she carried it to the table and sat in the chair across the table from Ashley and Sara.

“That looks like a ton of work,” she said, her gaze on the binder.

“We’re expecting over two hundred people to come to the reunion,” Ashley answered with a smile. It changed to a frown as she added, “But
you
haven’t signed up yet.”

Charity shrugged. “I’ve been so busy I keep forgetting.”

“Well, let’s take care of that right now.” Ashley flipped through the binder to a page with a color photo of Charity at seventeen.

“Oh my word,” she whispered. Did school photos get much worse than that one?

Ashley didn’t seem to hear. “We’ve got golfing on Saturday up in McCall. A seven o’clock tee time. Are you interested?”

“No, thanks. Golf has never been of much interest to me.”

“A Friday-night family potluck at the high school, then? I know you like to eat.”

Sara said, “Come on, Charity. You can’t miss the potluck. Terri’s signed her family up for it.”

“All right. I’ll go to the potluck.”

“Great!” Ashley exclaimed. “And you absolutely
must
be at the dance on Saturday evening. Everyone eighteen and over is going to that. Just
everyone
.”

Sara reached across the table and patted the back of Charity’s hand where it held the mug. “She’s telling the truth. Just about everybody in these mountains who’s old enough to have a diploma and is still breathing will be in the gym for the dance.”

Did
everybody
mean Buck too?

She gave her head a shake, trying to dislodge the unwelcome question in her mind.

Ashley said, “I’m sorry, but I won’t take no for an answer.” She made a mark on the paper.

A baby’s cry drifted down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Sounds like Eddy’s ready to eat again.” Sara pushed back her chair. “Do you both want to come up while I nurse him?”

“No, thanks,” Ashley answered. “I’ll run along. Maybe we can get together again next week.” She closed the binder with a flourish.