Sasha's Dad
Geri Krotow
Sasha Archer doesn't have a mother, but she's got one of the best dads around. Now she feels it's time he had a new woman in his life. And she's decided it should be Claire Renquist.She knows that Claire and her mom were best friends growing up–but then something happened and Claire moved away from Dovetail, Maryland. She's finally come home, trying to make a go of it with her llama farm. So that means Claire needs Sasha's dad, Dutch–who happens to be the local vet!But getting over the past seems to be hard for Claire and Dutch. Good thing they have Sasha to bring them together!
“I know you miss Mom, honey. You realize you can always ask me about her, right?”
“Of course I do, Dad. But you have to admit you weren’t as close to Mom as Claire was, not when you were little or even my age.”
Dutch looked into eyes as brown as Natalie’s had been. When did this little button of a girl turn into a young woman?
“No. You’re right about that.” Claire had been a part of Natalie’s life forever.
Dutch kissed Sasha’s forehead. “You can go to Claire’s farm with me next time, but promise me you won’t get your hopes up too much.”
“Dad, I’m not going to force you guys to be friends or anything. I get it.” Her posture of maturity almost fooled him.
He knew Sasha didn’t really get it. Sasha didn’t want him to think she was playing matchmaker, but he saw the warning signs. She had no idea that once upon a time, he and Claire hadn’t needed a matchmaker….
Dear Reader,
Claire and Dutch’s story is one I’ve wanted to write for a while. So many people talk about their high school sweethearts, whom they still remember, still think of. I wanted to explore this concept, but from a different angle—Claire and Dutch each allowed the other to get away all those years ago. But not before they inflicted emotional damage on themselves and those around them.
Atoning for past mistakes and hurts is one of the hardest things we ever have to do. First we need to admit that we messed up, then we have to mend fences with the people we’ve hurt. Claire thinks she only has to make amends to her deceased best friend, Natalie, via her relationship with Natalie’s daughter, Sasha. But Claire learns that the first person she needs to make amends to is herself.
I enjoyed digging through Claire and Dutch’s emotional history and bringing the love they share today to life. I hope you find their story as mesmerizing to read as I did to write.
I use whatever places our Navy lifestyle takes us as my settings. In this book I enjoyed writing about the fictional town of Dovetail, Maryland. Our time in nearby Annapolis was great and we left with new friends, not something that happens every tour.
Keep reading and remember to cherish your friends—today.
Peace,
Geri Krotow
Sasha’s Dad
Geri Krotow
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Currently living in Moscow, Russia, former naval intelligence officer and U.S. Naval Academy graduate Geri Krotow writes about the people and places she’s been lucky enough to encounter. Geri loves to hear from her readers. You can e-mail her via her Web site and blog, www.gerikrotow.com.
With love for my dad, Ed.
You were my first hero.
Acknowledgments
With thanks to Mary Sellers at Homestead Gardens in Davidsonville, MD—thanks for the day with the llamas, and all the wonderful information.
Thanks to the Bay Dale Walkers—Debbie, Cyndi and Jenn.
As always thanks to Mary B. and Patti M. for watching my six.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER ONE
TEARS OF FEAR and frustration welled in Claire Renquist’s eyes as she swiped at her cheeks with her waffle-knit shirtsleeve. She knew there’d be long days and early mornings when she decided to start an agricultural business. But she’d never expected the gut-tugging angst that sideswiped her when one of her animals was in trouble.
Claire’s hands shook as she pulled out her cell phone and punched in Dr. Charlie Flynn’s speed dial. Her vet and family friend never let her down. When Claire moved back to Dovetail, Maryland, two years ago she’d asked Charlie to doctor her animals. He’d promised to come whenever she called.
She stood outside the modest barn she’d refurbished. Cell phone reception was better out here, away from under the thick oak beams. Although it was pitch-dark and cold for the middle of March, the full moon lit up the surrounding fields and rolling hills.
Claire stared numbly at the view and not for the first time wondered why she’d done it—not only moving back to Dovetail, but starting a llama farm. She’d been a political reporter, assigned to the White House press corps, for heaven’s sake. Her TV network had given her free rein and allowed her to follow the president wherever and whenever she wanted. And she’d been able to branch off if a story called for it, visiting some of the most far-flung places on earth. Today she had her pick of consulting jobs where she could name her own salary, which helped her fund the farm until it got on its financial feet—
“Dr. Flynn’s answering service. May I help you?”
“Oh, I was expecting Charlie.” She caught her breath and forced herself to think.
“This is Claire Renquist at Llama Fiber Haven. Can you please tell him I need him immediately? I have a dam in distress with a breech birth.” A long mewl came from inside the barn. “Tell him to hurry.”
She snapped her phone shut and shoved it into her down vest pocket. Her nerves warred with her training, which allowed her to remain calm in most crises. Charlie was going to be annoyed with her. He’d been adamant that she call him as soon as she suspected Stormy was in labor. But she’d wanted to claim this first birth as her own. The llamas had become part of her life from the moment they’d arrived here in Dovetail. She’d nurtured them, rejoiced when Stormy became pregnant by artificial insemination and at times felt like one with her animals.
She’d been so sure she had everything under control.
Until labor began two weeks earlier than expected. She should have called Charlie as soon as she thought anything was amiss.
But she hadn’t.
Stupid. Selfish.
She ignored the critical voice. This wasn’t about her.
Claire rounded the corner of the stall and looked at her prized female llama. Stormy’s pecan-colored coat shook as her ribs heaved from the effort of breathing through her labor pains. Pains that should’ve been over after Claire helped birth the baby llama who stood blinking up at her, his brown eyes globes of innocence and trust. He mewled at her, shivering. He’d walked away from the heater she’d left him next to.
“Come on, baby.” She led the cria closer to the warmth and rushed back to Stormy’s side. Llamas weren’t usually vocal, and if Stormy had been the one mewling… Claire distracted herself by keeping her focus on calming Stormy.
“You did a wonderful job, momma,” she crooned to the three-year-old llama.
But Stormy wasn’t done. Claire swallowed down her fear. There was another calf in Stormy’s womb; she’d felt the hooves after the first cria was born. Plus the dam’s apparent discomfort alarmed her. It wasn’t typical for llama’s to convey distress during birth.
Twins. Claire groaned.
Twins weren’t a cause for joy, not in the llama world. They often meant death for the dam.
“Hang in there, Stormy.” Claire rested her hand on Stormy’s side, hoping to calm her. It was an impossible task as her own anxiety threatened to shatter her brittle composure.
DANIEL “DUTCH” ARCHER, Jr., squinted against the glare of the bathroom light.
“Humph.” He groaned as he splashed cold water on his face.
Waking up from a deep sleep to go out and make a house call wasn’t unusual for a large-animal veterinarian. Especially in rural Maryland.
What was unusual was his reaction to this message from his service.
Emotions he never wanted to feel again. The one person on earth he never wanted to deal with again, not at such close proximity.
Claire Renquist.
“Damn it.” He yanked open his bathroom door and strode back into his bedroom. This was just another call.
Like hell it is.
Underneath the layers of indifference, resentment, anger and a sheer distaste some might even describe as hate, Dutch recognized the tickle of anticipation. And he despised the part of himself that enjoyed it.
It wasn’t anxiety over the difficult job to come—saving a cria twin and the dam. It was knowing that in a few short miles he’d come face-to-face with the woman he’d avoided so carefully for the past two years.
He grunted. Two years, hell; try more than a decade.
Sure, they’d had unavoidable run-ins around town since Claire moved back to Dovetail, but they’d never spoken a word. The few times their eyes had met they’d looked away, each refusing to acknowledge the other. Like strangers, and that was how Dutch wanted it to stay.
If he’d been more mature when he’d chosen Claire’s closest friend, Natalie, over Claire all those years ago, he would never have encouraged Natalie to remain friends with Claire. He and Claire had drifted apart during their senior year in high school. After the horrific accident that had killed Dutch’s best friend, Tom, Dutch had gone to comfort Tom’s twin sister, Natalie, and, in a moment that changed the rest of all their lives, made love to her.
His relationship with Claire was irrevocably severed.
Never mind their childhood bond. Never mind that Claire had christened him with the name “Dutch” when, at age three, her pronunciation of Daniel Archer had become “Darch” and then “Dutch.” Dutch’s mother had loved it and so the name stuck.
He pulled on his work jeans and made a mental note to leave a note by his sister, Ginny’s, coffee mug. If not for Ginny he couldn’t keep making these late-night calls. Hopefully he’d be back before Sasha left for school.
He sighed and yanked a sweatshirt over his head.
This was the hardest part of his job—leaving Sasha in the middle of the night. But he needed a paycheck to clothe, feed and house himself and his eleven-year-old daughter. Natalie’s parents had been in their forties when she was born and elderly by the time Sasha came along. They’d passed away while Dutch and Natalie were in college, one year apart. Dutch had only himself and his family to lean on.
A squirming warm body squeezed between Dutch and his bureau, then sat.
Rascal thumped his tail and looked at Dutch with complete adoration—and expectation.
A low chuckle forced itself past Dutch’s tight throat.
“No, boy, I don’t need an Australian sheepdog yipping around the barn with me. Wait here and keep an eye on the ladies, okay, pal?”
Rascal’s fringed tail thumped twice before the dog lay down and rested his head on his front paws. His ears were still pricked, in case the tone of Dutch’s voice changed. In case his master decided to take him along, after all. But he’d stopped making eye contact with Dutch. Rascal knew the deal. Birthing was vet’s work, and Rascal wasn’t invited.
CLAIRE GLANCED at her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes.
Where the hell was Charlie?
It was quiet, except for Stormy’s heavy panting, a quiet that closed in on her. Half past two in the morning. The hour she’d always found least appealing, even when her surroundings had been the offices of the White House or a foreign capital city and not a rustic old barn with thirteen llamas.
Fourteen llamas, with one still on the way.
She left Stormy for a moment and went over to the cria, who stood in the corner of the birthing area. The surprised expression on his small face reflected her thoughts.
What the heck is going on?
“Here you go, sweetie.” She crooned as she rubbed another large, dry towel over the animal in front of the heater. His shivers had ceased and he seemed more relaxed than when he’d landed on the barn floor.
Claire allowed a wave of relief to wash over her before she returned to Stormy’s side. At least one cria might make it. Her emotions reminded her of when she’d first come home to Dovetail, thinking she’d be nursing her mother through heart surgery for much longer than had turned out to be the case. Thinking she’d leave after mom got better—but deciding to stay and start her new business—the llamas.
“Hang in there, lady. Help’s coming.” But as she said the words Claire couldn’t ignore the bitter burn of dread deep in her belly.
“No!” The cry burst up out of her.
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose Stormy. Stormy had been her first purchase for the farm, even before she’d found the location for Llama Fiber Haven. She’d put the money down on Stormy based on a single phone call to a couple in Michigan. They’d had to sell off their livestock quickly due to his illness.
She recalled the conversation as though it was last night and not more than two years ago. She’d called them from location in Iraq via a satellite phone. Thirty-four days on the ground in Iraq and Afghanistan covering the presidential visit had left her exhausted, grimy and on the edge of a mental breakdown. Her team was leaving the next morning, but she couldn’t wait that long to talk to the llama farmers.
Her dreams of leaving Washington, D.C., and having her own business were all that kept her going by that point. Ten years of constant pressure weighed on her spirit. She’d given up everything for her job, which in the early years seemed reasonable since she could say she was doing it as a service to her country.
But she’d had nothing left for herself. She’d let all her relationships decay. First to go were her girlfriends; she couldn’t possibly make time for a monthly dinner or cocktail social. Then any signs of a dating life disappeared. Her on-again, off-again relationship with a lobbyist had to be turned off permanently once she realized he wanted her to publicize his agenda.
Any new love interests never went past the second date—if they even made it that far. She’d had heads of state and diplomats, not to mention her own bosses, try to fix her up with some of their acquaintances, but it was for naught.
Claire was a dedicated career girl.
Until she had an epiphany. One that came to her, strangely enough, when she saw a group of women knitting. Claire had landed a plum interview with the First Lady during visits to local Washington charities. She’d been allowed to travel in the motorcade and should’ve been celebrating her journalistic coup. But then a bookstore window caught her eye. The presidential motorcade roared through D.C. unchallenged, but slowed to navigate a traffic circle.
Light glowed from the corner bookstore’s front window, forming a backdrop to a group of women who sat around a table. Holding needles—knitting.
The table between them was loaded with what looked like woolen items in different colors. Sweaters? Afghans? Scarves?
But it wasn’t the colors she noticed. It was the women, their oblivion to everything except what was happening around that table.
Laughing. Enjoying one another’s company. Happy, living in the moment.
Claire made a lightning-swift discovery then: She didn’t want to work so hard for the rest of her life, with no time for the sense of serenity the knitting women in the bookstore exuded. Even through the bulletproof glass of the limo she rode in and the windowpane of the bookstore, Claire felt the joy those women shared with one another.
She’d known in that instant that she had to go home. She’d been no more than two hours away, in Washington, D.C., for the past decade, but rural Maryland might as well have been the far side of the moon. Claire never took time off back then, not even to see her family or childhood friends.
“Ewwwwwww.”
Stormy’s mewl of pain brought her mind back to the present and elicited a shock of nausea. As a political reporter anxiety had been her constant companion and she’d actually believed she thrived on it.
She’d been insane.
“I’m here, Stormy.” The words struggled through her dry throat as Claire stroked Stormy’s long, graceful neck. Claire’s stomach twisted again as she recognized that Stormy wasn’t going to make it through this. Twins were too much stress on the llama’s body, especially since it was her first birth.
Claire fought back tears. This was the llama who’d got her through her first year back in Dovetail. Who’d helped her start to heal over her many too-raw emotions. It felt as though Stormy was part of Claire.
“Hold on, Stormy! You have to.”
DUTCH PULLED into the long drive that led to the farmhouse Claire had purchased from the Logan family on her return to town almost two years ago. The headlights of his pickup arced across the large painted Llama Fiber Haven sign she’d erected at the end of her property, but he didn’t pay attention to it. He’d already focused on the huge job that lay in front of him and the llama.
He’d managed to avoid Claire this entire time. There were at least three other vets she could go to, and had. Whenever her name or her farm came up in conversation with his colleagues, he’d been grateful he had no involvement. It was a relief that Charlie Flynn had taken her on as a full-time client.
The large-animal vets in town and surrounding environs all ran individual offices but worked together to help one another out. They had an agreement that any of them would fill in during an emergency.
Charlie was away, visiting his new grandbaby. That baby had come early, too, as the twin llama crias were arriving for Claire. The other two vets in their circle lived too far out of town to get to her place in time, so the night-duty call service had contacted Dutch.
He shook his head.
She wasn’t going to be pleased when he walked into her barn.
Over the past year they’d avoided each other with all the skill of secret agents. When he’d heard she’d returned, he thought she wouldn’t stay more than a few months. Claire had wanted to leave Dovetail since they were twelve and running through the sunflower fields on the south side of town. Thinking about it, he could still feel the heat of the sun on his head. Those impromptu hide-and-seek games, when they teamed up against Natalie and Tom, had been the freest time of his youth.
That was when his masculine strength was starting to surface, but before his hormones took over his motives.
He remembered how Claire used to look at him with wide-open sea-green eyes, before her curiosity and intelligence had been warped by at first an academic and then later professional drive that obliterated everything in its path. Collateral damage included Claire’s best friend since toddlerhood and Dutch’s deceased wife. Sasha’s mother.
Natalie.
He sighed, and recalled what he’d learned in the grief support group.
“Remember to breathe.”
He took in three deep breaths, exhaling completely after each one. The constant ache of loss had eased over the past three years. He still had his moments of sharp grief, but not the knee-buckling waves of it that nearly did him in during those initial months.
His resentment toward Claire, however, hadn’t abated. Her lack of compassion for Natalie during Natalie’s life-stealing illness was simply…unforgivable.
Especially at the end. Claire had said she’d come to see Natalie, and then didn’t. She wasn’t even in the country for the funeral.
“Damn it!” He pounded the leather bench seat next to him as he made the last arc up the long drive.
He had to let go of all of this, at least for the moment. He had animals to save.
CLAIRE LOOKED at her watch.
“C’mon, Charlie.” Her words were hushed in the open barn. She’d renovated the space the best she could afford for her llamas, which included providing an exit for them wherever they stood. The stalls opened to the large grazing area adjacent to the barn.
She sighed and sank down on the stool she’d kept in the barn for this reason. Waiting for Stormy to give birth.
She glanced over her shoulder at the two-hour-old cria, who remained in front of the warming fan. The newborn llama watched her while it soaked up the heat from the blower. That piece of equipment had cost her several hundred dollars six months ago. Claire didn’t regret a penny of it.
She’d read every agricultural manual she could get her hands on when she made the decision to leave her reporter’s career in D.C. and come back here. She’d talked to countless llama and alpaca farmers on the phone and spent whole weekends on the Internet gleaning anything that would make her transition, and that of her llamas, easier.
She heard the slam of a truck door.
Finally.
She stroked the side of Stormy’s neck.
“It’ll be okay now, gal. Dr. Charlie’s here.”
At the slap of boots against the barn floor Claire looked up and saw the tall male figure at the other end of the building.
She stood.
“Over here, Charlie.” She waved, then sat back down next to Stormy.
“It’s not Charlie.”
At the sound of his voice, she felt instant shock—and despair.
“Dutch.” Her whispered response floated over the hay-strewn stall floor.
She forced herself to look at him as he approached, to keep her expression neutral.
He’s not twenty anymore.
Unlike the other times she’d seen him since she’d moved back, she made herself stand tall and take in his full length. He was leaner than she remembered, more sharply defined. The barn’s fluorescent lighting harshly illuminated her observations. His eyes were the same inky blue, but his hair was no longer the same shade—it was moon-silver, shockingly so. Only a small patch of blond hinted at the color it’d once been. The lines around his mouth and eyes had deepened, but not, she suspected, from laughter as much as the sorrows of his life over the past several years.
He stopped a stride away from her, his gaze steady and guarded.
“Claire.” One word of greeting, but it sounded more like a condemnation.
She stood too quickly. Her knit cap slid over her eyes and she shoved it back.
“Dutch.” Adolescent awkwardness returned, along with the acute awareness that she was in grimy sweats and hadn’t showered since early yesterday.
She squared her shoulders and gave Dutch a glance she’d used on Afghani warlords.
Why should she even care what he thought about her?
Dutch strode over to Stormy.
“How long since the first was born?”
He was beside her, listening to Stormy’s heart with his stethoscope. She had a hard time fathoming how two years of avoiding Dutch had suddenly yielded to this instant of need on the part of her animals.
“A couple of hours, from what I can guess. He was shivering when I came in here. I was surprised Stormy wasn’t cleaning him, so I set up the heating fan and then I checked her. That’s when I figured out she wasn’t done.”
“You figured right. What took you so long to call it in?”
What had taken her so long? She’d been so intent on following all the rules, making sure she’d be able to do this herself. She’d only called Charlie because it was a last resort. But Charlie hadn’t come, Dutch had.
“I called as soon as I realized what was going on.” She truly hadn’t known Stormy was in labor until late last night. “Where’s Charlie?”
“Away.” Dutch didn’t elaborate. He gave a quick look at the cria. She hated herself for studying his eyes, noticing the crinkles around them.
“You’ve already rubbed him down.”
“Yes, I—”
“How about you continue to take care of him and I’ll tend to the mother, okay?”
It was worded as the question it wasn’t. At least that hadn’t changed about him.
Claire massaged the cria, relieved that he seemed content to stay in the warmth of the barn and not run about in the freezing weather.
“I was worried about the temperature all day. I’ve been checking on Stormy every hour on the hour since late yesterday afternoon. I know llamas won’t birth in bad weather if they can help it.”
Dutch didn’t reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard her, since his concentration was focused on Stormy.
“Easy, girl. That’s it.” His tone was gentle yet persuasive, the perfect blend of coach and drill sergeant. Claire wondered if he’d used the same tone when Natalie gave birth to their child.
The wave of guilt at the memory of Natalie grabbed her by the throat and she coughed to cover the groan that rose up in her.
“Come over here and watch this.”
Claire didn’t miss that he didn’t say her name.
As she watched, Dutch eased out the second cria as though he delivered breech babies all the time. He was sweating; she saw the stains under his arms. But his breathing remained steady and there was no strain in his expression. His eyes met hers for the briefest moment, and she saw a tiny flicker in their indigo depths. Of hope? Joy?
Dutch had wanted to be a vet since they were kids. He’d saved as many creatures as the Dobinsky brothers had pulled the tails off, including her beloved lizard.
“Here it is.” Dutch finished delivering the second cria, but it was clear to her that this baby llama wasn’t going to have as easy a time as his twin. It was much smaller and shivered constantly.
“It’s a girl,” Dutch murmured. “Blanket?” He reached out a gloved hand toward Claire.
She passed him one of the many clean blankets and towels she’d stacked for this occasion. He swaddled the cria and walked it to the heater. Claire held her breath as Dutch listened through his stethoscope. She stared at his face for the slightest clue.
He removed the stethoscope from his ears and kept massaging the cria. It almost seemed too rough as far as Claire was concerned, but he was the vet. She wasn’t even a llama farmer by most standards, not yet. This birth was supposed to be her stepping stone into the professional status she longed for. A breeder couldn’t call herself a breeder until her animals actually had off-spring.
And she’d failed.
“She’s breathing. We won’t know for a bit if she’s going to make it.” Dutch’s voice was reserved, even with the grimness running through it. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, or so she assumed—until she reminded herself that her welfare wouldn’t be high in Dutch’s priorities.
“What about Stormy?”
Claire kept her hand on Stormy’s side as she spoke, as if by touch she could preserve the dam’s will to live.
“Let me look at her. Here, come and rub this cria. Don’t stop. I’ll check her out.”
While Claire rubbed the tiny llama, and occasionally patted its older sibling, she agonized over her stupidity. It was one thing to want to claim her farm, her business, for herself. It was quite another to put Stormy at risk.
If only she’d recognized Stormy’s distress earlier last night. She’d assumed it was going to be a regular birth, just earlier than Charlie had predicted.
Stormy was more than a resource to her. She was Claire’s hope for a new future. A future that was free of the pressures of the political life she’d left behind. Free of the constant drone of the newsroom and the stress of breaking the next story.
With a start Claire realized she was perspiring more profusely than she ever had while working in the press corps. Stormy and all the rest of her llamas had at some point become more than animals to her. They were embedded in her heart.
Yet another reason to regret her decision, which had led to danger for Stormy and the two crias.
Waiting for Dutch to finish dealing with Stormy stretched Claire’s anxiety to the max.
“How is she?” Claire asked the top of his silver mane. That was all she had in her line of vision.
“Shh.” Dutch’s admonition cut across the stable.
Claire kept rubbing the baby and decided to focus on naming the twins. They would both make it. They had to.
After what seemed like hours, but in reality wasn’t more than twenty minutes, Dutch snapped off his gloves.
He made direct eye contact with Claire, and she squirmed at the intensity of his gaze. But it wasn’t about her, or her and Dutch. It was about Stormy.
“She’s okay for now. Her uterus is intact and the afterbirth looked normal, which is a positive sign.” Dutch shook his head. “However, she’s had a huge shock to her system. She won’t be out of the woods for a day or so. I’m going to start her on IV antibiotics as a precaution.”
“Is there any way to avoid the stronger medications? She’s still young and I really don’t like—”
“No, there is no other option—you made sure of that when you took this birthing on yourself. Llamas, livestock—” Dutch waved his hand around her barn “—aren’t pets, Claire. They’re domestic animals who serve a good purpose and need to be respected as such. They weren’t put here for your entertainment.”
His emotional sucker punch echoed Claire’s own thoughts and drove the taste of bile into the back of her throat.
“This isn’t entertainment for me, Dutch. These are my animals, my vocation.”
She hated the electricity that quaked between them, even as they faced each other in total disgust, ignoring any remembrance of their past relationship.
“You’ve never been one for commitment. Is this something else to throw away when you grow tired of it?”
Her mind finished the observation: The way you threw away your best friend? Your hometown?
As soon as he fired the words at her and before Claire could reply, Dutch looked down.
“Damn it all to hell.” He slapped the OB gloves against his thigh. After a few deep breaths, he looked back up at her.
“This has nothing to do with you, or me or our past, Claire. It has to do with your llama. If you want her to live, you need to follow my directions implicitly.”
“I’m sorry—”
He held up his hand. “I’ll help you until Charlie gets back—or your animals are healthy. That’s it.” He nodded at the firstborn cria. “He’s doing okay, so I’m comfortable leaving him here. But the one you’re holding—I’d rather take her back to my office to monitor.”
“That could kill the mother!” Claire clutched the tiny cria as if it were her own child.
Dutch sighed. “I know. And we’re shorthanded in town for the next week as far as vets go. I’ll set up what you need for a llama preemie clinic right here and show you how to use the equipment. I’ll drop by frequently, and you can call me anytime you need help.”
He had her in the grip of his stare and she watched as his lips flattened into a thin line. “I know there was little reason for you or Charlie to expect twins—this was a rare instance for a llama birth.”
He looked back at her. “No more doing anything with regard to your animals on your own. You’re not a vet. Got it?”
Claire swallowed, but kept her mouth shut and nodded.
His gaze didn’t waver from her face.
“Let’s get something straight. We don’t talk about our lives now, or before or whenever. Nothing personal.”
“Right. Nothing personal.” What else was she going to say to the man she’d hurt more than anyone—other than his dead wife?
CHAPTER TWO
SASHA LOOKED at her fairy alarm clock. Fifteen minutes until the fairy’s wand hit the twelve and the alarm rang at six sharp. She reached under her bed for her cell phone to see if her best friend, Maddie, had texted her yet. They always checked to see if the other would be at the bus stop.
Her fingers brushed against a familiar organza cloth cover. The big red book.
The big red book was more of an album. It sat in a large, paper-covered box. Her mom had put it together for her before she died. When she gave Sasha the gift, Sasha was only eight. Mom had told her that someday it would help her smile and remember how much Mom loved her.
Sasha kept the box under her bed, but hadn’t opened it in a while. She’d opened it a lot those first few months, that first horrible year. But since her eleventh birthday last year she hadn’t looked at it as often. She still had the last photograph taken of her and Mom on her bulletin board and she looked at that every day.
In the photograph, Sasha sat on the bed next to Mom, whose head was bald, her eyes dark in her pale face. Sometimes the longing overwhelmed Sasha and she cried. But not so much anymore. She would never forget Mom, but as the years went by she was more comfortable with thinking about Mom in heaven, with no chemo, no sickness.
Sasha couldn’t remember a time that her mother hadn’t been sick. Maybe when she was really little, but pretty much since the end of kindergarten Mom had been seeing doctors all the time.
Sasha believed deep in her heart that Mom thought she and Dad should “move on” and get their lives going without worrying about what Mom would think. She wasn’t planning to ask Dad about this—he was too busy with the vet business and now he was worried because Aunt Ginny had to go away to law school and Sasha would be Without a Female Mentor.
A knock at her door startled her.
“Sasha, are you up? You have to take your shower now.”
Sasha glanced at her fairy alarm clock.
She’d stayed in bed ten minutes longer than usual.
“Okay, Aunt Ginny, I’m up.”
“YOU LOOK LIKE HELL.” Dottie Vasquez made the observation as she poured Dutch his third cup of coffee.
“We can’t all look as good as you at six in the morning.” He mustered a smile for the woman who owned the diner. Dottie was his mother’s age, but had the spirit of a teenager.
She smiled back at him. “No, but I’ve seen you looking better, Dutch.” She put the coffeepot on the burner, then returned to chat. The breakfast rush was over for the early farmers, and she had a few minutes’ rest before the next wave of customers came in. Dutch knew this was what Dottie liked more than serving coffee or food to hungry people. She liked to talk—and to listen.
“Word is, the lights were on at the Llama Haven all night.”
Dutch met Dottie’s blue eyes, still bright even surrounded by crow’s-feet. “I swear, Dot, I hope the U.S. government knows where to come when they need information about anything. Do you ever miss a beat?”
His banter didn’t distract Dottie.
“With Charlie and Missy out of town,” she said, referring to the other vet and his wife, “I figured you were over there tending to a birth. Does Dovetail have a new baby llama?”
“As a matter of fact, it has two.” He sipped his coffee. He usually had one or two cups in the morning—his work gave him enough of a jump start. But today he’d needed more.
“Twins?” Dottie’s eyebrows rose and her next question formed on her lips but the diner door flew open and a crowd of truckers tumbled in.
“Hold that thought, Dutch. I want the details.”
Dottie got the crew settled. After she’d put her top waitress on the job, she came back to the counter. Dutch considered using the opportunity to escape, but didn’t. Dottie was harmless and had listened to many of his woes over the years. She was nice to Sasha, too.
But she didn’t sit down next to him again. The diner was hopping with hungry customers.
“Twins?”
Dutch stood and met her gaze. “Yeah, twins—and I’m not sure the little one’s going to make it. I need to get back out there and check up on her.”
“I imagine it’s easier for you and Claire to get along when you both have something to focus on.”
Dottie didn’t have to explain. Dutch knew.
Other than yourselves, your history.
He shrugged on his coat, pulled out his wallet.
“Exactly.” He put down the money, as always with a generous tip. Dutch appreciated being able to stay in a small town and raise his daughter here, and he was more than willing to pay for it. He knew Dottie had lost business since they put in that big national franchise breakfast place off the highway, but she’d kept her prices reasonable and still served the best coffee this side of Chesapeake Bay.
“See you later, Dot.”
“See you.”
Dutch walked out into the parking lot and looked up at the sky. There was nothing like a Maryland sunrise, and today’s had been no exception. The last remaining streaks of pink and purple faded into the clear sky, harbinger of another cold, windy day.
He got into the front seat of his truck and glanced at the clock as he switched on the ignition. If he was lucky he’d make it home in time to sit with Sasha through her breakfast.
Then he’d have to return to check on the cria. And face Claire’s wary green eyes, her hesitant behavior around him.
“Good. Keeps her on her toes,” he muttered to himself as he turned into his driveway.
“SASHA, TIME TO get out!” Sasha heard Aunt Ginny’s voice through the bathroom door and turned off the shower.
“Okay!” Sasha buried her face in her towel.
She was going to miss Aunt Ginny, who’d told Sasha last week that it was time for all of them to move on. Dutch was Aunt Ginny’s older brother, but she’d been like a big sister to him and Sasha these past few years.
At first, Sasha didn’t like it when Aunt Ginny had said their house felt like Mom was still here. Ginny had come to live with them toward the end of Natalie’s life, when hospice had taken over, and Sasha remembered spending lots of time with her aunt. But lately Sasha had started thinking maybe Aunt Ginny was right. Her friends whose parents were divorced had either bought new houses or fixed up their old ones. And they got new husbands or wives.
Daddy didn’t act as though he ever wanted a new wife, not even a girlfriend. He said he never wanted to forget Mom. Neither did Sasha.
But a new mom might not be so bad.
She had distinct memories of Mom and of her dying—the days Mom spent lying on the couch and on what Sasha knew was a hospital bed. But somehow Aunt Ginny had helped it not be too sad. Sasha remembered the times when no one could stop the sad stuff. Like when Mom had bad reactions to the medicine or when it got really close to the end and all she did was sleep. She seemed to fade away that last summer.
Sasha was so glad Aunt Ginny had stayed. She was going to miss her, but she was also looking forward to being alone with Dad. Whenever Aunt Ginny had to go to Baltimore or on trips with her study group, Sasha had liked the father-daughter time with Dad. Plus she loved being with him on his job. She loved animals at least as much as he did.
Sasha hurried down the stairs and hit the wide-plank pine flooring of the hallway. Rascal clipped along beside her, trying to herd her into the kitchen.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Aunt Ginny met her halfway and hugged her tight. Sasha was eleven, almost twelve, but never tired of Aunt Ginny’s hugs or kisses.
Aunt Ginny pulled back a bit and looked into Sasha’s eyes. Aunt Ginny had Dad’s deep blue eyes, which Sasha often wished she had, too. Instead, she’d inherited her Mom’s brown eyes, which Dad and Aunt Ginny told her were beautiful and she’d be grateful for when she got older.
“What?” She hated it when Aunt Ginny looked at her for too long.
“How are you today? Good?”
“Yeah.” Sasha squirmed out of Aunt Ginny’s arms and went over to the counter. Someone had cleaned it up and put all the appliances away.
“Where’s the toaster?” Aunt Ginny never put things back in the same place twice.
“Under the counter. I bought some cinnamon waffles yesterday.”
“Thanks!” Sasha loved it when Aunt Ginny did the grocery shopping. Dad was more practical and would’ve bought plain waffles or no waffles at all—just some regular bread for toasting.
Sasha saw all the thick books Aunt Ginny had on the breakfast counter.
“Are you still studying?” She thought Aunt Ginny’s exams were over.
“I’m reviewing. When I start law school, I’ll be expected to be on top of all these subjects.”
“Huh.” Sasha enjoyed school and homework, but didn’t know how adults stayed awake when they were reading such thick books with all that small type.
Aunt Ginny was almost done with her bachelor’s degree. She’d done it from Dovetail, going into College Park as needed. Dad said Aunt Ginny had made a Great Sacrifice for them. Now she had to go live in Baltimore and go to the university there for law school. She’d be leaving soon to attend a spring review class before courses started at the end of the summer.
“Where’s Daddy?” Sasha spread peanut butter on her waffle. Aunt Ginny had sat down with her coffee and books.
“He got a late-night call.”
As soon as the words were out, Rascal whimpered and ran to the kitchen door. Sasha heard the slam as her dad got out of his truck.
“Daddy!” Sasha went over to the door as Dutch opened it and jumped at him. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hug.
“Hi, sweetheart. You smell like a bunch of flowers.” He tugged at Sasha’s still-damp hair.
“It’s the shampoo Aunt Ginny got for me last Christmas.”
“Is it?”
Sasha nodded, then finished making her breakfast. Dad looked tired—his eyes were deep in his face and the lines around them made him seem like he was squinting.
“What happened?” Aunt Ginny must have noticed, too.
“Twin llama birth. One’s fine, the mother will hopefully be okay, but I don’t know about the second one. She’s really small and it’s going to be touch and go for a few days.”
“Can I go see them with you?”
“No.” Dutch’s response was immediate and it hurt. She hated when he was like this.
“Well, excuse me.” She shoved a bite of waffle into her mouth.
She heard her dad sigh, then he walked back to her.
“I’m sorry, Sash.” He tousled her hair. “I’ve been up all night, and I haven’t had an easy time of it. Of course you can go see the llamas, but not today. Let’s give them all a chance to settle in, okay?”
“Sure.” Sasha took her waffle and sat on a stool at the counter. “Do you want a waffle, Daddy?”
“No, thanks, sugarplum. I ate at Dot’s, before you were even out of bed. But I’ll sit with you, if that’s okay.”
“Okay. Wait! Let me go get my essay that I’m handing in today. You can read it over for me.” Sasha ran up the back stairs to her room. She heard Aunt Ginny laugh at her excitement.
What were they going to do when Aunt Ginny wasn’t there to calm Dad down?
GINNY TURNED to Dutch, before Sasha bounded back into the kitchen.
“How’d it go?”
Dutch screwed up his face and frowned at his baby sister, who looked so innocent with her widened eyes and lifted brows. But he knew she wasn’t asking about the llamas, not really.
“Fine. Awful. I hated it. I’m glad I saved the twin and, I hope, the dam.” He stared down at the floor.
“I can’t look at that woman without remembering, without seeing the pain on Natalie’s face when her calls weren’t returned.”
“I know.” Ginny’s voice was soft. She’d seen it, too. Claire and Natalie had been closer than sisters through grade school and high school. The only thing that had ever come between them was a boy.
Dutch.
“I don’t get it, Ginny. How someone so smart can be so stupid, especially with her friend, her family.” He couldn’t believe he was sharing so much with Ginny, but he blamed it on exhaustion.
“Sounds like she’s learned something,” Ginny said, giving him a level gaze. “She quit the press corps when her mom got sick, helped her mother through her heart surgery, and she’s stayed here even though she doesn’t need to anymore. She’s serious about making a go of it, Dutch. It’s been two years already.”
“Trust me, Ginny, if Claire Renquist has stayed in Dovetail, or anywhere, it’s for her benefit and hers alone. Claire doesn’t do anything solely for others. That part of her died a long time ago.” He snorted.
If it ever existed.
Ginny laughed, but not with any hint of sarcasm.
“Do you want some lemon with those bitters? Jeeze, Dutch, let it go. Some people do change.”
He grunted. He wanted to say “not Claire” but Ginny had a point. He’d turned into a crusty old man at the age of thirty-four.
Ginny had been a kid when Dutch and Claire dated, and not much older when they broke up. Dutch had married Natalie right out of college. He’d only recently told Ginny that he and Natalie had a pregnancy scare way back in high school after that fateful night during senior year. The night that ended any remaining relationship he’d had with Claire and permanently ruined Natalie and Claire’s childhood bond.
“Look, Daddy.” Sasha, back downstairs, slid onto the stool next to Dutch. He read her essay with one arm around her. He loved the fact that she still snuggled close, their two heads bent over the paper, the comfortable intimacy between daughter and dad.
Dutch knew he needed to learn to be comfortable with other people, too. It was more than three years now—Natalie was at peace, and he wanted to find some peace for himself.
He looked up at Ginny as she watched him and Sasha. He could read her mind.
They’d been alone too long, he and Sasha.
“Don’t get any ideas, Ginny.” He tried to act as if he was focused on Sasha’s essay, but few knew him better than Ginny.
“What kind of ideas?” Sasha piped in.
“Matchmaking ideas, honey.” Ginny sipped her coffee. “Your dad’s worried I’ll try to set him up with someone.” Ginny rolled her eyes.
“Do you mean like on a date?” Sasha’s interested was piqued.
“This is adult conversation, Sasha.” Dutch stared hard at Ginny. He loved his kid sister, but she was like every other female when it came to romance.
She thought everyone needed it.
Ginny, of course, ignored him. “Yes, Sasha, like a date,” she said. “Your dad could benefit from adult female companionship.”
“Ginny!” Dutch growled, but the edge in his voice masked the nervous twist in his gut. What did he have to be anxious about? Ginny was the one acting weird.
“Don’t ‘Ginny’ me, Dutch. Sasha’s old enough to understand this conversation, aren’t you, honey?”
“Yup!” Sasha’s head bobbed enthusiastically. She looked sideways at Dutch. The female gleam in her eyes made him laugh in spite of himself.
“Aunt Ginny’s right, Dad. You need a woman.”
CHAPTER THREE
“SHE’S DOING as well as I could hope. It could still go either way, but she’s a tough gal, aren’t you, Stormy?”
Dutch patted the llama’s side and his voice lowered to a soft lilt. He kept his gaze on the llama. Claire’s breath caught.
Here was the Dutch she’d known as a teen. Caring, assured, comfortable with his intelligence and ability. She watched his hands stroke Stormy and couldn’t stop the memory of how those hands had felt on her when they were lovesick teenagers.
On that hot, breezy summer afternoon in Ocean City. When all that mattered was Dutch and the love they’d discovered, the love that went beyond their childhood friendship. When she knew she’d never love anyone as much as she loved him at that moment.
Dutch must have felt her stare just now as he looked up and their eyes met. She saw his recognition of her, not as the girl who’d run out of town, not as the woman who’d broken her best friend’s heart, but as Claire.
It was Dutch and Claire. That connection still seared her thoughts. Her awareness belied the notion that the energy between them was a mere relic of their past. Whatever their connection, it was real and alive. Today.
The heat between them caught her off guard.
Dutch blinked and she watched the immediate judgment flood back into his expression. How many layers of disgust toward her did he harbor?
Not more than she harbored toward herself.
“Thanks, Dutch.” She broke the silence abruptly.
“No thanks needed. I’ll check on her again tonight.” Dutch gave the cria a quick exam and straightened up.
“She seems to be doing fine.” She offered up the observation in an attempt to mask her awareness of him.
Dutch glanced at her for the briefest of moments. “Yeah, I’m not worried about her. You were smart to have the heater on hand.” His grudging expression reflected his sincerity.
“At least I did one thing right.”
“Spare me the martyr act, Claire.”
He put his hat on and picked up his bags. “I’ll come by before dinnertime.”
He turned and strode out of the barn. Claire was glad he didn’t look back at her. She wasn’t sure she was keeping the sorrow off her face.
She had to force herself to focus on the positive. Claire had thought she’d already done that when she started this new venture. It wasn’t easy, beginning a llama fiber business. Once she had the llamas, she’d needed to find someone to spin the fleece into yarn. She’d been lucky to come across a small business that spun yarn commercially and by hand, so she could please her future customers.
Other aspects of running the farm had also fallen into place, and Claire’s confidence had bloomed.
Until Dutch walked into the barn to save her llamas that dark night.
DUTCH WAITED for Sasha in front of the middle school. She’d entered sixth grade this past autumn and, with it, middle school. When he’d been growing up he sure didn’t recall the girls looking the way Sasha wanted to dress. She was eleven going on twenty-five, and it scared the hell out of him.
Sasha’s face lit up when she saw him standing there, and he turned to get into the truck ahead of her. A couple of years ago he’d wait for her, hugging her when she grabbed him in a fierce greeting. But now she didn’t like him to be visible if she was in public. He knew from what Ginny told him that this was all normal, but it still gave him a punch in the gut.
Sasha was all he had. Ginny was getting ready to leave; she’d been accepted into law school. And she should leave, she had every right to—she had her own life to lead. But with Sasha entering puberty and adolescence, he knew he was going to miss Ginny’s steady presence. The security she provided as an adult woman in Sasha’s life. What was he going to do without Ginny when Sasha got her period?
He could call his mother, but he didn’t see Sasha as willing to talk to her grandmother Archer about her body’s changes. His parents had been a fantastic support for Sasha and him through the grieving, but they were active seniors now, with lives of their own. He couldn’t ask them to help raise another child.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Hi, honey.” He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, which she reciprocated. When was this going to end? He hoped never.
“How was school?”
“Fine. Mr. Ignacio wore this really weird sweater today—it had frogs on it.”
“Frogs?” Mr. Ignacio was the sixth-grade science teacher and he marched to his own formula, from what Sasha told him.
“Yeah. Then Joey said it looked dumb, and Mr. Ignacio said, ‘Yeah, well, I think wearing a company’s advertising for them is dumb.’”
“Was Joey wearing a logo shirt?”
“Yeah, and these really expensive sneakers, too.” Sasha chattered the entire way home. Most of the time he ended up tuning some of it out. How on earth did she keep such detailed but inconsequential information about her teachers and friends in her brain, much less repeat it over and over?
“Dad? Daaad!”
“Oops. Sorry, honey.” His attention had been on the road.
“So can I?”
“Can you what?”
“Sleep over at Naomi’s? Maddie might be able to go, too, and it would give you a break.”
“Uh, no, not tonight.” Not any night, not since he’d heard that Naomi’s mother was picked up for a DUI. He had to award Sasha points on the manipulation attempt, though.
“Come on, Dad.”
“No.” He was grateful that Natalie had taught him to be consistent with Sasha since she was a toddler. She pretty much accepted “no” without too much resistance. For the most part.
“Fine.” She sighed, the weight of it bearing resignation and youthful angst.
I’m such a mean parent.
“What’s for dinner?”
“What do you want?” Fridays were their evenings together, another reason Dutch didn’t want Sasha going to a friend’s house. He enjoyed their movie and popcorn nights and was reluctant to let go of them.
“Can we have tacos?”
He groaned inside. His stomach couldn’t take much fast food anymore. But Sasha loved the drive-through, and he could get himself a salad.
“Why don’t we go now and pick them up? It’s a little early, but that’ll give us room for popcorn and ice cream later on.”
“All right!” Sasha nodded her approval, the missed sleepover apparently forgotten.
THEY ATE FROM the wrappers at the kitchen table, both devouring the early meal. Dutch looked up at the clock.
“I have to go check on some patients, but I’ll only be gone a half an hour or so. Think you can keep yourself out of trouble for that long?”
He’d been trusting her alone a little at a time, since she was approaching her twelfth birthday. Ginny had gone to her usual weekend prelaw study night in Baltimore, and he still had to visit the llamas.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to take a quick look at the llamas.”
As soon as the words left his mouth he knew he’d made a mistake. Sasha homed in for the kill.
“Daddy, you promised I could go the next time you visit a llama farm. And it’s only fair ’cause you didn’t let me go to the sleepover.”
His jaw tightened. He didn’t want Sasha anywhere near Claire.
Too dangerous. Too many questions.
The answers are what you’re afraid of.
“I don’t think so, Sasha, not tonight.”
He heard the unreasonable tone in his voice, but it was too late to soften his delivery. Sasha’s face fell, then reddened with emotion.
“Stop treating me like a baby, Dad! I won’t get in the way or cause you any problems.”
“I know that, sweetheart.” He expelled a breath, giving in. “Okay, you can come along. But it’s going to be a quick visit, so don’t think you’re staying with the llamas all night.”
“I won’t.” She pulled on her hat and gloves as she spoke and he felt the dread gather inside him.
Anything would be better than going back to Claire’s—especially with Sasha.
CHAPTER FOUR
CLAIRE HEARD the truck pull in, the crunch of gravel and the slam of doors.
Doors?
She looked out the window and saw the person who’d accompanied Dutch. A small, thin figure walked beside him, shadowing his moves.
His and Natalie’s daughter.
Claire let the curtain fall. She’d planned on staying in, poking her head out when Dutch came back from the barn, keeping their conversation to a minimum.
But he’d brought his daughter.
Their daughter.
Natalie hadn’t gotten pregnant after she and Dutch made love that fateful night in high school, while Claire was away. They’d had a scare when her period was late. And the fallout from that scare put the lid on the coffin that held Dutch and Claire’s dying relationship.
What hurt the most was that Dutch and Natalie had stayed together after the scare and Dutch’s one-night indiscretion. Dutch and Natalie had gone to college together, married and had a child. Dutch’s night with Natalie hadn’t been just a one-night stand, although that was what they’d both told her in those dark days of senior year.
It was a long time ago, she reminded herself.
Claire wondered if she’d made a mistake in assuming she’d never get over the emotional trauma Dutch and Natalie’s relationship had inflicted on her. Maybe if she’d come clean with Natalie all those years ago and told her they couldn’t be friends anymore…
But back when they were in grade school, Claire and Natalie had promised each other they’d always be friends. In high school they’d watched other girls fight and lose lifelong friendships over boys and swore that would never happen to them.
But it had. And instead of leveling with Natalie, Claire had told her she was over Dutch and happy for Natalie, and the two of them would remain friends.
It had worked for a while. Claire came back from college for weekends and spent time with Natalie. It was better when Dutch wasn’t around, which had been often. When he was, Claire never spoke to him if she could avoid it. More importantly, she never allowed herself to be alone with him.
Except the night of Natalie’s bachelorette party.
Claire groaned at the humiliating memory.
After that, Claire had kept up her charade of friendship-as-usual as long as she could. But when the baby came, and Dutch and Natalie were a no-kidding family, Claire found she didn’t have the energy to put on her show of indifference anymore. She’d loved Natalie, but had to save the few scraps of self-respect she had left. She’d seen Sasha once, as an infant at Natalie’s belated baby shower; she’d never spent time with her again.
If she was smart she’d continue that approach and stay in the house.
Her thoughts warred with her curiosity. Curiosity won. What kind of girl had Dutch and Natalie’s baby become?
Claire threw on her merino cardigan, shoved the wool cap she’d just finished knitting onto her head and went out the back door. The afternoon air hung heavy with the threat of rain. As she entered the barn, she saw the gray clouds through the open stalls. They served as a perfect backdrop for the young girl in her periwinkle jacket.
If Claire expected an immediate earth-shattering recognition of Dutch and Natalie’s daughter, it didn’t happen.
Sasha stood quietly off to the side, smiling at the smallest cria. Dutch examined Stormy with the same focus she’d seen this morning. He was a gifted vet; she had to give him that. He knew his job and he didn’t permit any distractions.
Claire walked toward them, her footsteps virtually silent on the hay-strewn ground. She wore her favorite barn shoes—slip-on suede mules with supportive rubber soles. Hand-knit socks from the local yarn store kept her feet warm. She looked forward to the day when she’d be able to knit her own socks.
“Hello,” Claire greeted the girl.
Dutch didn’t respond as he tended to Stormy. But his daughter met Claire’s gaze with uncompromising candor. Just like Natalie would have done.
“Hi. I’m Sasha, Dr. Archer’s daughter.”
“I’m Claire.”
Sasha stared at her and Claire thought she saw a question in Sasha’s huge brown eyes. But none came.
“You look like your mom.”
“You knew my mom?” Claire cringed at the hopeful expression on Sasha’s face. Great. She should’ve kept her mouth shut.
“That was years ago, Sasha, before you were born.” Dutch’s voice cut across the stable, but it didn’t appear to affect Sasha as it did Claire. Claire wanted to climb over the slats and run for the hills.
“Huh. So you went to school with her? Have you always lived in Dovetail?”
“No, yes… I mean, yes, I lived here as a child, then left for school.” Complete with a broken heart.
“I know who you are!” Sasha stepped closer. “You’re the TV reporter who came back because you had nowhere else to go.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Claire slipped her hands in her pockets. Why had she allowed her curiosity to bring her out here? She would’ve been more comfortable in the dentist chair getting a root canal.
“So you did know my mom—she used to point you out on TV. You look a lot different now.”
Claire couldn’t help laughing.
“I don’t dress like that anymore, and my hair’s longer.” She’d abandoned her expensive coif the minute she’d left the press corps. She’d had a few trims in the past year, and her former chin-length bob had grown past her shoulders and was wavy now. No more blow-dried-straight haircuts. She wanted to be herself.
Whoever herself was.
“I gave Stormy an extra shot of anti-inflammatory. She’s doing okay, but I don’t like how swollen she still is.” Dutch’s deep voice interrupted them and Claire welcomed the reprieve.
Claire bit her lip. She wanted him and his daughter out of here. It was bad enough finally meeting Sasha, but to have Dutch observe the event…
This could’ve been our daughter.
She blew the thought out of her mind as quickly as it’d blown in. Life hadn’t worked out the way they’d expected. But it wasn’t fair to involve Sasha in any of it.
As Dutch went over to examine the crias, Sasha stared at her with unnerving intensity.
“Did someone make that hat for you?”
Claire’s hand jerked to her head. “It’s a beret.”
Sasha kept staring. “The ribbing’s messed up. That’s why it keeps slipping down past your eyes.”
Claire swiped the hat off her head and looked at it in the barn’s fluorescent light. The creation she’d planned to knit, modeled after a hat she’d seen in the local yarn store, didn’t measure up to her own expectations, either.
“It’s a blend of llama and merino wools. The hand-painted color is supposed to give it a variegated appearance.”
“You did make it, didn’t you?” Sasha was more effective than a lot of the journalists Claire had worked with. The kid wouldn’t let up.
Claire raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I did. I haven’t been knitting that long, and it’s my first finished project.”
“Where did you learn?”
“To knit?” Claire stalled. Now came the pathetic truth about her circumstances. “I taught myself.”
“From what?”
“A book. Internet videos.”
“Did you know knitters sometimes get together at bookstores? There’s a group that meets every Thursday at the store in Annapolis.”
Yes, Claire knew that knitters met in bookstores, and she knew about the Annapolis group in particular. She’d already been there. Once. They’d all but ignored her. There were members from all over Maryland, but the core group was from Dovetail. The women in this group remembered her as the girl who left. They remembered Natalie, too.
Another way this small town was keeping her at arm’s length. She didn’t want to resign herself to the status of “Natalie’s horrible best friend” so she abandoned the group after just one visit, along with any intention of trying it again. Victim wasn’t a role Claire had ever been fond of playing.
“I’m usually very busy with the llamas.”
Sasha smiled. “It’s fun. Or at least that’s what my friends’ moms say.”
“Maybe I’ll try it sometime.” Claire watched how Sasha kept looking at her hat.
“So, you knit?” Claire tossed the question at her.
“A little. My mom taught me, and Aunt Ginny tries to help me every now and then, but I’m better than she is.”
So Natalie had been a knitter. Claire remembered when they’d both gone through a brief crocheting phase, but had dropped that in favor of beading.
A wave of nostalgia overwhelmed her with memories she’d pushed down so far she thought she’d forgotten them. Staring at Natalie’s daughter certainly added to the poignancy of her recollections.
“Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” Claire shook her head and refocused her gaze on Sasha. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“You’re crushing your hat.”
Claire forced her hands to relax their grip. Sasha’s bold assessment should’ve made her laugh, since it was the same kind of attitude Natalie had possessed, an attitude that had made Claire laugh many times. But Claire felt her heart constrict. Sasha wasn’t Natalie, and Natalie wasn’t coming back.
“So, do you want to be a vet like your dad?”
Sasha wrinkled up her nose. “Not really. I don’t know. I love animals, of course, but I think I may want to be a lawyer.”
“A lawyer? My sister’s studying to be a lawyer.”
Sasha nodded. “She knows my aunt Ginny. They’re going to be in the same class. Aunt Ginny’s moving to Baltimore next week so she can take refresher courses or something.”
“I bet you’ll miss her.” It was common knowledge that Dutch’s sister had lived with him and Sasha since Natalie became too sick to care for herself. She’d stayed on after Natalie had passed away.
“Yeah, we’ll miss her. But Aunt Ginny needs to have her own life.”
Claire smiled. Sasha was obviously repeating what Dutch had told her, but she said it with such conviction, as if the words were her own.
“Hey, look!” Sasha’s joy-filled squeal startled Claire. Sasha pointed at the twin crias, who’d decided to jump around their pen as though it was seven in the morning and not evening.
“They’re a pair, all right,” Claire said. “The little one’s obviously improving. They’ve started to play together.”
“I want to get their picture.” Sasha reached into one jacket pocket, then the other, and frowned.
“Dad, I forgot my camera!”
Dutch looked at her from the side bench. He’d finished his exams and was packing up his kit.
“Sorry, kiddo. Better luck next time.”
Sasha giggled. “So I’ll come out with you tomorrow on your evening rounds, right? And we can bring Rascal with us?”
Claire stifled the laugh that rolled up her throat at Dutch’s pained expression. Clearly, Sasha’s spending time at Llama Fiber Haven was not in his game plan.
Dutch lowered his eyebrows and looked at Sasha. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay.” Sasha turned back to Claire. “What are their names?”
“I have no idea. I keep trying to come up with something. So far nothing’s stuck.” She didn’t want to tell Sasha that she wasn’t completely sure the younger cria was going to make it, and with Stormy still at risk, naming the twins wasn’t a priority.
“Why don’t you name them now?” Sasha watched the baby llamas, her eyes full of sparkle and life. Claire wondered if her own eyes had ever been that young.
“Well…” Claire hedged. Dutch was almost done—maybe she could put off the naming until Sasha came back. She’d be ready for both of them next time, perhaps even have a treat for Sasha. Especially with Ginny moving, Sasha might enjoy some pampering. Claire knew Sasha probably had more than enough attention from Dutch’s parents, but now that Sasha had identified Claire as one of her mother’s childhood friends, it would be nice to offer Sasha some comfort.
“Look! He keeps nipping at her side, to get her to play.” Sasha giggled again. “And she tucks her head in and hides from him.”
“Until she decides to give him a kick—she did earlier today.” Claire laughed at Sasha’s infectious enthusiasm.
“Why don’t you call them Nip and Tuck?” the girl suggested.
“Sounds good to me.” Claire turned back to the llamas. “Hey, Tuck, stop bothering Nip!” She smiled at Sasha. “Perfect.”
“Hey, Nip, go ahead and kick Tuck!” Sasha got into the act and stepped closer to Claire. Claire looked down at her new friend. Same hair color as Natalie, same wit as Dutch. But Sasha was very much her own person. Dutch was going to have his hands full raising her through the teenage years.
Claire looked up from Sasha and over at the llamas. Her eyes caught on the brilliant blue gaze that pinned her from across the barn. Dutch was angry, but she didn’t think it was at her as much as the situation. Claire sent him a slow smile, which only made his brows draw closer together over his strong nose.
Let him be angry. He had to learn sooner or later that he couldn’t control everything. He might have issues with Claire, but apparently his daughter didn’t. And wasn’t Sasha’s well-being his primary concern?
CHAPTER FIVE
“SO YOU CAN HELP me out?” Two days later, Claire looked at Jewel and Jenna, her twenty-two-year-old twin sisters. They sat in their parents’ kitchen. Fred and Dona Renquist had gone out shopping. Jewel and Jenna were still living at home until they started their individual graduate programs.
Claire met the twins every week whenever they weren’t away at college. Now they’d both graduated and had some time on their hands before graduate school. In fact, Jewel had decided to move back until she entered her Physical Therapy program. Jenna was going right into law school.
“I have six months until I begin working on my physical-therapy degree. I’ve got an internship at the clinic, but it’s only part-time. I’ll be here for the Sheep and Wool Festival—and I can help you with starting up the yarn shop. It’ll be a nice break for me.” Jewel grabbed one of Dona’s pecan cookies, which she’d taken from the freezer. Mom always froze extra batches she’d baked so the girls could take them out to thaw and enjoy.
Claire looked at Jenna. “Are you sure you can take time off for this?”
“The Sheep and Wool Festival is just one weekend, right?” Jenna sipped her iced tea.
“Yes, but I need help on Thursday, then I need someone to work shifts with me so I know the llamas are safe from overexcited festival attendees.”
“Count me in.” Jenna smiled at her older sister.
Sitting around Mom and Dad’s kitchen table made the years fade. If Claire closed her eyes, she could still see the whole family here, meal after meal.
“It’s great that you two want to help me. I’d ask Mom and Dad, but their cruise starts Sunday and they fly out Saturday night.”
Fred and Dona were buying new luggage today.
The twins smiled. Even at twenty-two they were undeniably linked more than average siblings. They shared Claire’s green eyes, but had straight, bright red hair instead of Claire’s wavy blond.
Both Fred and Dona were teachers; Dona still taught sixth grade, and Fred high school mathematics. During their spring break, they’d decided to take themselves on a cruise.
Claire laughed. “I wonder if they’re fighting over what color luggage to buy.”
“Doubtful.” Jenna grinned. “As long as Mom’s happy, Dad is, too. Odds are he lets her pick whatever she wants. He intends to set the mood for a romantic Caribbean cruise.”
Jewel held up her hands. “I don’t want to hear any details.”
“Me, either.” Jenna shook her head.
“I agree, no details. But we’re really lucky that Mom and Dad have each other and that they’re still happy after all these years and everything they’ve been through.” Claire leaned back in the oak chair. It was hard to believe that only a couple of years ago their mother had needed major heart surgery.
“When Mom got sick, none of us had to help nearly as much as we might have. Since Dad went through cardiac rehab, he knew what she needed.” Claire felt it was her duty to be the voice of reason.
“Yeah, and it’s obvious to me that Mom recovered so quickly because she has Dad.” Jewel peered out the window at the plethora of bird feeders Dona had arranged on the back deck. “Look, two robins mating!”
Claire and Jenna groaned. Jewel always seemed to find the romance in every situation.
“Speaking of mating, Claire, what’s going on with you and Dutch?” Jenna took advantage of the moment to ask what Claire was sure she and Jewel had been thinking about all morning.
“What do you mean? He filled in for Charlie while he was gone.”
The twins exchanged a glance. “So why’s he still hanging out at your place?”
“It’s purely professionalism. Dutch has simply been following up on the llamas’ health. He birthed the crias, so it’s only natural that he’d want to keep caring for them.” She hoped she didn’t sound defensive.
“Yeah! I heard he’s been bringing his daughter around, too.” Jenna smirked.
“You never told me!” Jewel slapped Jenna’s arm. “Yeah, Claire. What’s going on?”
Claire rolled her eyes. “I do love being back here, but this is one part I didn’t miss.” She referred to what she called the girl-in-the-fishbowl syndrome. Anything that happened in Dovetail stayed in Dovetail and on everybody’s wagging tongues.
“You’re stalling, Claire. Give us the goods.” Jewel was not letting this go.
Claire took her time, breaking off half a cookie and chasing it with lemon water.
“Dutch brought his daughter, Sasha, over to meet the llamas,” she eventually said. “Sasha and I hit it off. They’ve been to visit maybe half a dozen times. She loves the animals.”
Claire kept to the facts, as the twins were bound to read volumes into each word.
“Ginny’s on her way to law school at the University of Baltimore—” she nodded at Jenna “—with you. Sasha’s going to be lonely for an older female in her life—and it’s nice that I can provide some of Natalie’s history.”
Claire took another bite of her cookie, astonished that neither Jewel nor Jenna had interrupted her musing.
“Sasha’s at an age where she’s naturally curious about what her mother was like at eleven or twelve.” She glanced at each twin in turn. “Since Natalie and I were inseparable at that age, it makes sense for me to be in her life right now. And I want to be. It’s a way of bringing back some good memories.” She splayed her hands on the kitchen table. “It’s also giving me a chance to make things up to Natalie. To make up for the time I wasn’t here when she was sick.”
“How’s Dutch taking it? He must be mad that Sasha likes you, in spite of what you—”
Jenna visibly clamped her mouth shut. Jewel shot her twin a glowering look. Too late. Claire could already feel the wounds in her heart start to seep.
Jewel tried to cover for her blunder. “In spite of missing her mother, I mean.”
Claire gave them a wry smile. “Actually, Sasha isn’t so wrapped up in Natalie at this point. Yes, Natalie was her mother and she’ll never forget her. But I get the impression that she’s ready to move on, that she doesn’t want to be grieving her mother all the time.” The way Dutch still did.
“So Dutch is letting go of his resentment?”
“Are you sure you want to get involved with them?”
Both twins spoke at once.
Claire released a short laugh. “No, it’s clear to me that Dutch isn’t letting go as much as he probably should. But who am I to judge? It’s none of my business.”
Jewel and Jenna shared a “she’s only kidding herself” look.
“Don’t you think you could make a difference? You and Dutch did have something once.” Jewel turned back to Jenna for help.
“Yes, when you were in high school I thought you were going to marry him after graduation, or at least after college.” Jenna raised her brows for effect.
“You guys were eight years old. What did you know?”
“Not as much as we know today, and today we know that the whole town’s talking about how Dutch looks since he’s been taking care of your llamas. When we ran into Ginny in Baltimore she told us that his positive attitude’s come back. That’s huge, Claire. He’s been the grouch around here for over three years.”
“Longer if you count when Natalie got sick,” Jenna added.
“I should’ve known you’d talk to Ginny.” Claire looked at her younger sisters, shaking her head.
“Ginny talked to us. Saw us at the university open house and filled us in. She’s doing a refresher course before her courses begin. It’s really hard for her to finally leave for law school, but she’s already sacrificed, what, two years?”
Claire sighed. “I’m not doing this for Dutch or Ginny. Like I said, I’m doing it for Natalie, but, most importantly, for Sasha.” As she spoke, an incredible certainty came over her.
All along she’d thought that somehow she would make up for her behavior with Natalie. She’d never expected it would be through Natalie’s daughter, but the opportunity was staring her in the face.
“What about you and Dutch, Claire? Natalie’s been gone for years now.”
“Maybe three years sounds like a long time to you, but I’m sure Dutch would beg to differ.”
“Seriously, Claire, what’s keeping you two from at least having fun together?” Jenna was so fresh faced and naive in her query that Claire laughed.
“There’s nothing between Dutch and me. Cool it.”
“But you two were best friends for ages! And the four of you—Dutch, Natalie, you and Tom,” Jenna said, referring to Natalie’s twin brother, “were inseparable my entire childhood.”
“You and Dutch did date in high school, I remember!”
Yes, they had dated. More than date—as Jenna observed; Claire had believed she and Dutch were forging a basis for the rest of their lives. Until one night when Dutch’s efforts to comfort Natalie turned into lovemaking…
You’re not being fair. You’d already created a huge rift with your college plans.
“Yeah, but we broke up when Dutch and Natalie got…involved.” Claire’s hands started to itch, and the room felt unseasonably warm.
“You mean when he thought he got her pregnant.” Jenna, always the more practical of the twins, spat out the statement.
“That’s old history.”
“I never understood why you two never got back together. I mean, Natalie wasn’t pregnant, and they didn’t get married right away. Why didn’t you and Dutch ever work things out?”
“Our time had passed. I was going to conquer the world, Dutch had vet school ahead of him and Natalie planned to get her B.A. and her master’s in history so she could be an archivist for the state.” She stifled another deep sigh. Fatigue overwhelmed her.
“Dutch had fallen in love with Natalie,” Claire went on. “And she fell for him, too. They were meant to be together at that point.” She stated what she’d only recently come to accept as the truth. It had taken her a decade of sorting out her feelings to understand it.
“You don’t look so good, sis.” Jewel would be a great physical therapist. Her empathy didn’t quit.
“I’m fine. It’s getting hotter in here, isn’t it?”
Jewel and Jenna looked at each other, then at Claire.
“We’re not hot.”
Claire ran a shaky hand through her hair. If they knew about her current attraction to Dutch they’d have her married and living a fairy-tale life.
The thought of spending the rest of her life with him wasn’t something she could afford to entertain.
“Well, I’m hot. I need to get back to the farm. Sasha’s coming over in a few hours. Thanks for making lunch, Jewel.”
“No problem. You can do it next week.”
“You bet.”
Claire got out of the house and slipped behind the wheel of her hybrid compact. It was her running-about-town car. She had a previously owned, beaten-up pickup at the farm that she used for hauling supplies.
She was grateful she’d parked some distance from the house so the twins wouldn’t see her slumped back in her seat, head pressed against the neck rest. The discussion about Dutch and their history reverberated through her mind.
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