A Temporary Arrangement
Roxanne Rustand
Much more than she bargained for…All Abby Cahill wanted was a quiet summer job in the beautiful Wisconsin woods. But the hospital where she' s filling in turns out to be overcrowded, understaffed and decidedly stretched for cash. And as if she didn' t have enough on her hands, the only vacancy in town for " single woman with mutt" is at the farmhouse of wildlife biologist Ethan Matthews, whose son is with him for the season, along with several newborn puppies.Ethan is a handsome, solitary man who seems to need Abby as much as she needs… Problem is, she' ll never find out what she needs. At the end of August she' s got to go back to her job in the city teaching nursing. And leave this temporary arrangement, which is starting to feel too darn comfortable. For all three of them.
He was silent for a long moment
Abby had the oddest feeling he was assessing her—truly looking at her—for the first time. “Go on, get inside,” he finally said.
“Thanks, Ethan. For this place…for the groceries. And for taking care of my dog. I definitely owe you.”
Inside the cabin she locked the door and leaned against it, wondering if the past few minutes had just been in her imagination.
Ethan didn’t really want her here. She was at his ranch only to help with meals and stay with his boy, Keifer, when Ethan went off on his late-evening research jaunts.
Which was fine. She had a great job waiting for her in California and she certainly wasn’t interested in any casual short-term flings.
Especially not with Ethan Matthews.
Dear Reader,
Writing the BLACKBERRY HILL MEMORIAL series has been such fun! Northern Wisconsin must be one of the loveliest places on earth, especially in the fall, when the leaves of the hardwoods are afire with brilliant color, in contrast to the dark green pines and sparkling, sapphire lakes. Author Lyn Cote lives on one of those stunning lakes, and visiting her and her husband each fall is an annual delight. She and I must hit every bookstore, garage sale and resale shop in the county…and I don’t even want to guess at all the calories we consume! Those Wisconsin visits were the inspiration for this series.
In A Temporary Arrangement, Blackberry Hill Memorial is facing the challenges common to many small-town hospitals, but there are darker problems in this idyllic place—hidden threats that jeopardize the future of the new director of nursing. And for a wildlife biologist who spends most of his time alone, threats come in the form of someone clearly bent on revenge and a lovely newcomer who just may steal his heart.
If you’ve missed the other two BLACKBERRY HILL MEMORIAL stories, Almost a Family and A Man She Can Trust, check for them at www.eHarlequin.com.
I love hearing from readers, and can be contacted at R. Rustand@juno.com or Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52406-2550, or at my Web sites, www.roxannerustand.com and www.booksbyrustand.com. You can find a free, downloadable cookbook at the first Web site, along with a contest, reviews and more. If you send a SASE to the P.O. box, I’ll be happy to send you some bookmarks.
Wishing you the best for your own happily ever after!
Roxanne Rustand
A Temporary Arrangement
Roxanne Rustand
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Award-winning author Roxanne Rustand’s love of romance began when a friend gave her a wonderful novel and dared her to put it down. She did—at four o’clock the next morning. Completely hooked, she read romance for several years before starting to write one of her own. Roxanne is a registered dietitian with a master’s degree in nutrition, and works at a residential psychiatric facility. As a wife and mother of three, she tries hard to balance family, career and writing commitments…. even when it means retreating to a hotel for the weekend to meet her deadlines.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With many thanks to my dear friend, author Lyn Cote, and her husband, Steve, for their hospitality during our wonderful “writers’ retreat weekends” in northern Wisconsin. And to Diane, Jacquie and Pamela for your invaluable friendship and support.
I feel so very blessed to know you all.
This one is for you, Emily, with thanks for all the wonderful treats and lunches and suppers you made while I was locked away in my office. You’re the sweetest daughter ever!
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
ABBY CAHILL breathed in the crisp, pine-scented air, then stepped inside Blackberry Hill Memorial Hospital to start a new chapter in her life.
The retiring director of nursing, Grace Fisher-Edwards, met her inside the door with a broad smile. “I was afraid the tourist traffic would slow you down, but you’re right on time.” She ushered Abby down the hall to her office. “June can be a real bear around here.”
Abby laughed. “On par with five o’clock rush hour in Detroit, except the scenery is much, much prettier.”
“If you can see past the vehicles, that is.” Grace snorted as she settled behind her cluttered desk and shifted a stack of files to one side. “During the summer, our population triples.”
“And I think every last one of those tourists is on Main right now.” Grinning, Abby searched through her shoulder bag for her notebook and a pen. “I sure wish I could’ve come a few days earlier, but our nursing students’ graduation was on Saturday and then I still had to pack.”
“You must be exhausted.”
“No…though I do look forward to settling into my new place.” Abby sat back in her chair and uncapped her pen.
Grace’s eyes filled with concern. “I gather you haven’t stopped by the Hawthorne Apartments.”
“Not yet.” Abby flipped open the notebook, her pen poised over its pristine surface. “Meeting with you was my biggest priority, believe me.”
“The manager tried to call you yesterday. He even called the hospital, hoping Erin or I would know how to reach you.”
Abby stilled. “My home phone was disconnected yesterday morning, and I have a new cell. But there shouldn’t be a problem—I’ve signed a lease.”
“There was a fire over the weekend.”
“Oh, my,” Abby said faintly. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, but half your building was gutted, leaving seven families homeless…and now you, I guess.” Grace pushed a piece of paper across the desk. “I’ve done some checking, but there aren’t many apartments in this area. I’m afraid those displaced renters have already taken what little there was.”
“I’m glad I left most of my things in storage for the summer.” Abby considered the situation for a moment. “Maybe I can find a cabin to rent. Or even a motel, until the apartment building’s livable.”
“I’m not sure it ever will be.” Grace worried her lower lip. “We’ve heard rumors for years about the owner wanting to raze the entire complex so he can put up fancy condos.”
Dread settled in the pit of Abby’s stomach. “What are my options?”
“Even vacation lodging is hard to come by during the tourist season. Most places are reserved months ahead. But I did find a few possibilities.” Grace’s dubious expression didn’t bode well. “And you’re sure welcome to stay with Warren and me. We leave on our wedding trip in the morning, but you could stay on through tomorrow night.”
“You two just got married—what?—this past weekend. I’d hate to move in on you.” The pink tinging Grace’s cheeks made Abby smile. “Especially with you getting ready to leave.”
“I wish I could offer you more, but my house has been sold and the contractors start on Warren’s place Thursday morning. Once they tear up the plumbing and old wiring, I’m afraid it won’t be habitable until they finish in July.”
“Please, don’t even give it a thought. I’m only here for a few months, so I can make do with just about anything.”
She scanned Grace’s list. A motel along the lake with weekly rates. Several small resorts with cabins. A furnished house for rent.
But the bigger issue was her new job and the fact that Grace—the person best suited to groom her temporary successor—was leaving town tomorrow.
“I’d rather spend as much time as I can with you. I can figure out my housing problems later.”
“Are you sure?” Grace sounded doubtful. “With your background, you should have no difficulty taking over. Erin tells me you were a top student when you two were in training together. And your article in the Journal of Hospital Nursing last year was amazing.”
“Psychology of Patient Care in the Low Income Setting” represented three years of research and had taken her at least sixteen drafts. Reprints were now required reading in several nursing programs across the United States and would be included in a college textbook released next spring.
But that article—and the others she’d written—provided no more practical knowledge on running a nursing department than Wuthering Heights.
“As you know, it’s been a while since I worked in a hospital.” Abby managed a light laugh. “I may have been teaching nursing for years, but I’m going to need every bit of advice you can offer.”
“And I’ll be glad to give it. But first, I really think you’d better take a few hours to look for a place to stay.” Grace glanced at her watch. “Come back at, say, four o’clock?”
“But my orientation—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll still be here when you get back and we can stay as late as we need to.” Tapping the files on her desk, Grace gave her a grandmotherly smile. “Last month, we revised the facility-wide policy and procedure manuals, and they’ll explain every last detail of running this place. Coupled with the files I’ve pulled together for you, you’ll have everything you need to know.”
Updated policy and procedure manuals. Complete files. The words were a balm to Abby’s left-brained soul. She felt the tension in her shoulders ease. “Sounds like this should be a smooth transition, then. Thanks.”
“Everyone is looking forward to having you here.” The hint of admiration in Grace’s voice was unmistakable. “And though you’ll only be here for a short while, I know you’ll be a great asset.”
Three months, to be precise, until the new permanent director of nursing arrived. Surely she could handle a small, quiet hospital like this one for three months, and the experience would be perfect research for her next article.
Abby smiled. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to enjoying the slower pace up here.”
“Slower pace?” Grace repeated, a faint, enigmatic smile on her lips. “I think we’ll have a lot to discuss before this day is over.”
AFTER TWO HOURS of fruitless searching, Abby realized just how right Grace had been about this busy resort town.
It had all seemed so simple while she was packing. After the graduation ceremony, a formal tea at her mother’s Rosewood Lakes estate and a quiet farewell gathering at her father’s country club, she’d savored every moment of the beautiful drive north to the quaint Wisconsin town of Blackberry Hill.
She hadn’t been prepared for the bumper-to-propeller traffic during the final two hours of the trip or the crowds attending the Blackberry Hill Arts Festival. Not to mention there wasn’t a single place to stay within fifty miles.
Every possibility on Grace’s list was filled, along with three others she’d found in the local newspaper.
Scooping her hair away from her damp forehead, she tugged at the collar of her limp cotton blouse and knocked on the door of her last resort: an old house with a sagging front porch at the end of Bailey Street.
A minute later the door swung open to reveal a bony and bent eighty-something man with a scowl on his face.
“I’m not buying anything,” he snapped.
“I’m here about the room,” she said as he started to close the door. “Please—is it still available?”
The man in front of her was as charming as his advertisement.
She’d seen the scrawled note tacked to the bulletin board of the grocery store downtown, hidden beneath a flyer advertising Lawn Care—Good Rates.
Efficiency available by the month. Private entrance. No smoking. No drinking. No guests of the opposite sex. No pets. No noise. One month rent deposit. Hubert L. Bickham, 234 Bailey Street.
Hubert L. Bickham’s scowl deepened as he studied her from head to foot with narrowed eyes. “I don’t allow any hanky-panky. No trouble.” He jerked a thumb toward the side of the house, where she’d seen exterior stairs leading to the second floor of the small one-and-a-half-story house. “Those stairs go right past my bedroom, and any noise wakes me up. So no tromping up them stairs at all hours, missy.”
Despite the heat, the frustration and her need to get back to the hospital, Abby had to struggle to keep a straight face.
No one had ever accused her of leading a wild life. And right now, with her hair curly as Medusa’s in the humidity, this old guy imagined she could find someone to get wild with.
She held up her hand in a Scout salute. “I swear.”
He chewed at his lower lip. “You got the deposit?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Ain’t a big town, if you’re lookin’ for work. You got a job?”
“Blackberry Hill Memorial Hospital. I’m the new director of nursing. The interim director, I should say,” Abby added carefully.
He appeared mollified at that. “Grace’s job.”
“Exactly. Last month I leased one of the Hawthorne Apartments near the hospital but—”
“Fire, first floor.” He folded his arms across his thin chest and gave her a long, skeptical look. “They checked you out before letting you sign?”
“They did,” Abby assured him. “Credit check, work history. Everything.”
He thought for a while, searching her face. “I suppose you can have the room, long as you understand the rules and pay on time.”
Suppressing the impulse to kiss his whiskery cheek, she quickly read the contract and signed her name, then wrote a check for two months’ rent. “You won’t regret this. I promise.”
He appeared to regret it within minutes—glaring at her from his front window as she lugged her suitcase and several boxes up the sidewalk and around to the stairs. He thumped on his ceiling with—she suspected—a broom handle when one of the boxes slipped from her grasp and hit the floor.
Her new landlord appeared to have a major personality disorder. The apartment was cramped and dark. Yet she wouldn’t inconvenience Grace and she’d just bought herself time to find a better place. How hard could that be?
TWO WEEKS LATER she knew. Finding a better place wasn’t hard. It was impossible. And working in an idyllic north woods town certainly didn’t give her tranquility. Not when she was overseeing the nursing staff of a hospital that had been on the brink of closure less than a year ago.
She’d talked to Grace for hours on her first evening in town. The older woman had even stopped in at the hospital the next morning before she and Warren flew south. She’d run a tight ship and had left her office in perfect order, but every day brought new challenges given the tight budget and shortage of nurses.
“Bad day, professor?” Erin Reynolds, the hospital administrator, smiled sympathetically as she watched Abby pore over the nurses’ work schedule on her desk.
“Interesting.” Abby grinned back at her.
After graduating together with bachelor’s degrees in nursing, they’d gone their separate ways—Erin had eventually gone back to school for a degree in hospital administration, while Abby had chosen graduate school and a career in teaching at the college level.
They’d kept in touch through Christmas cards and occasional e-mails, though, and Erin had been the one to let Abby know about this temporary position.
“I just need a magic wand and a few more nurses,” Abby continued. “Marcia’s home with strep throat. Carl’s on vacation until Monday. Gwen agreed to pull a double shift today, but I’m trying to avoid that, because she works tomorrow, too.”
Erin came farther in and wearily rested both hands on the back of a chair. Five months pregnant, she was as lovely as ever with her short, glossy dark hair and delicate features, if somewhat drawn and pale. “Any luck with the ad?”
“A half dozen calls and several applications.”
“Good.” Erin stifled a yawn. “I’ve asked Madge to run it in the Green Bay and Milwaukee papers this weekend, too.”
Erin was just two years older than Abby, and they’d hit it off from the first time they’d met. Now, Abby looked at her old friend with growing concern.
The hospital was in the midst of renovation and expansion efforts that hadn’t been going smoothly. With the three children Erin had adopted before marrying Dr. Reynolds last winter, her job and her pregnancy, she looked ready to drop in her tracks.
Dr. Jill Edwards, on the other hand, was due the month after Erin, but she barely showed yet and seemed to have boundless energy. Though without other children to contend with, she probably got much more rest.
“So, is it true you and Connor have never had any weekend time alone?” Abby asked. Erin and Connor had flown to the Bahamas in late January for a beachside wedding with all three children as attendants. “Not even on your wedding trip?”
“We had adjoining rooms. And—” she grinned as she patted her stomach “—we occasionally locked the door between those rooms.”
“Not quite the same,” Abby said. “I’m thinking you need some absolute peace and quiet. This weekend.”
Erin snorted. “I don’t think that’ll happen. Our sitter is off on her senior high class trip this week. Connor’s on call this weekend and he’s also covering Jill’s practice while she’s out of town. He’ll probably end up sleeping at the hospital, so it’ll be just me, the kids, and my round-the-clock morning sickness. I can’t believe the nausea has continued past the first trimester.”
“So this could be a weekend to pamper yourself. Maybe I could take the kids—”
“You?” Erin’s eyes were round. “Are you feeling okay?”
“How hard could it be?” She’d gone out for pizza a couple times with the Reynolds crew, and she’d also been to a few of the boys’ baseball games. The three kids all seemed, well, manageable enough for an afternoon.
“This is so sweet of you. A whole weekend to myself just sounds like heaven.”
Abby had meant to volunteer for a few hours, but she couldn’t resist Erin’s gratitude. “Whatever I might’ve said about lacking maternal instincts, I could do it. I’m a nurse, after all. We’re nurturing types.” Was she? Her ex-fiancé, Jared, sure hadn’t thought so. “And heaven knows, I owe you,” she added. “Coming up here is the perfect opportunity for some practical experience before I start teaching again.”
Abby ignored a sudden vision of her landlord Hubert’s reaction to all of this. “You could sleep in. Relax.”
“As much as I’d love it, I’m afraid the kids are really energetic. I swear, sometimes they could wear out the patience of a saint.”
The children had been adopted shortly before Erin’s first husband left her for another woman. All three had come from troubled backgrounds, but Erin had already done wonders with them. Surely she was exaggerating.
“And I’m not exaggerating,” Erin added dryly. “No matter what I tell them, they’ll push the limit with anyone new—that’s why Haley is still our one and only babysitter. The others refuse to come back.”
“If I can handle this hospital job, I can handle three kids. And if things get really wild, you’re only a phone call away,” Abby added firmly.
“Well…” Erin hesitated for a moment, then dissolved into laughter. “Deal. Though I’ll understand completely, if you decide to give them back early.”
“Not a chance. The boys, Lily and I are going to have a great time.”
WHAT EXACTLY, did one do with three kids under the age of eleven to make sure they had a “great time”?
Connor dropped them off after supper on Friday. Abby took them to a movie, for pizza, then finally to the video store on Main Street.
There, eleven-year-old Drew had argued for renting some sort of video game for the Xbox he’d brought along. Eight-year-old Tyler had begged for a different game, one Drew said was dumb. And ten-year-old Lily had shyly asked for an old Harry Potter movie she’d seen at least a million times, according to Tyler.
Abby’s plans for holding a vote fizzled when the boys stood toe-to-toe and both proclaimed it was their turn to choose. Abby ended up renting all three and praying for peace.
Now, back at the stairway to her small upstairs apartment, Abby held a finger to her lips. “My landlord is elderly and needs his sleep. We have to be very quiet, okay?”
Lily nodded and tiptoed up. Tyler stumbled on the third step and yelped as his knee struck the edge of the riser. Drew, distracted by a motorcycle coming down the street, bumbled into him and said a few words he must have learned in inner city Chicago during his earlier days. The video he’d been carrying bounced down the stairs to the grass.
Sure enough, the lights in Hubert’s first-floor bedroom blazed on a second later and he appeared at his window to peer out into the dark.
“Just me, Mr. Bickham. Sorry,” Abby called.
Shooing the kids ahead of her, she held a finger to her lips again and gave them a conspiratorial smile. “He’s got very, very good ears,” she whispered. “Let’s pretend we’re secret agents and see how quiet we can be.”
Upstairs, the kids seemed surprised by the efficiency’s small living area, dominated by a threadbare couch and single chair. The tiny kitchenette in one corner. The queen-size bed she’d angled into another corner, and had covered with her jewel-toned quilt and shams in an effort to make the place more homey.
“This is real pretty,” Lily murmured. “But there’s no place for us to sleep.”
“That’s why Connor dropped off your sleeping bags and duffels this morning. I figure you can each camp in a different corner. You’re welcome to make tents out of chairs and my extra blankets.”
Tyler grinned. “Cool.”
“I’m over by the TV, and I get it first,” Drew announced. He pawed through one of the duffels and pulled out a black plastic box with cords and controllers dangling from it like an electronic octopus. In seconds he was behind the small TV, figuring out the connections.
“That’s not fair,” Tyler complained. “We didn’t even draw for it.”
Draw for it? Abby realized she should have managed the first TV rights equitably. “How about giving Drew an hour, then you and Lily can draw straws for who goes next?”
Lily, who’d settled on the couch with a Harry Potter hardcover book that weighed almost as much as she did, shot Abby a look of gratitude, then dropped her gaze to the open book in her lap.
Tyler stuck out his lower lip. “Drew’s always first, just ’cause he’s bigger. And if Lily wins, that’s not fair, ’cause her dumb movie lasts forever.”
Reminded of her one—and only—disastrous babysitting job as a teen, Abby smiled. “Then how about helping me bake some cookies while you wait? You could be the one to decorate them before they go in the oven.”
The television blared to life—a cacophony of gunshots and screams that nearly shook the rafters before Drew found the volume button on the remote.
Startled, Lily jerked and her heavy book slid to the floor.
“Jeez, Drew. Wake up the dead, will you?” Tyler snapped.
And from downstairs they heard muffled curses…then the thud! thud! thud! of Hubert’s broom handle beneath them.
Abby managed a reassuring smile as she motioned with her hands for quiet. They were good, normal kids. They couldn’t help making noise. But this whole idea had obviously been a mistake.
She already knew she’d be hearing from Hubert in the morning…and the news wouldn’t be good.
CHAPTER TWO
DELAYING HER INEVITABLE confrontation with Hubert, Abby bustled around her little kitchen, cleaning up after feeding the kids her favorite malted-milk waffles, scrambled eggs with cheese and fresh-squeezed orange juice.
They’d all been restless last night and had finally dozed off at the end of Lily’s movie, but for some inexplicable reason they were all awake by six…their occasional arguments or bursts of laughter bringing energy and excitement to the apartment and making her laugh.
But Hubert would be waiting for the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. And then he’d be on his front porch when she came around the house, ready to complain about her latest Noise Infraction. Hubert, she thought grimly as she dried the final piece of silverware, needed a life.
“Now, we’ve got two choices,” she said as she wiped the last of the crumbs off the counter. “It’s beautiful outside, seventy degrees and sunny. We could stay here and watch old movies…or go out to the lake and feed the ducks the rest of these waffles.”
“Ducks?” Drew rolled his eyes. “We’re not little kids.”
“So then, how about feeding the ducks and then going on a hike?” Belatedly, Abby remembered Lily’s weak left leg, from a club foot that hadn’t been properly treated when she was in foster care. She thought up a fast excuse to avoid a long walk. “I’m too tired to walk very far, but we could follow Sapphire Lake and watch the Jet Skis and sailboats for a while.”
Tyler and Drew exchanged bored looks that revealed just how exciting that sounded. Then Drew gave Tyler’s shoulder a playful shove. Tyler bent to tackle him at the waist and they hit the floor, wrestling like a pile of puppies until Abby managed to call a halt.
“Monopoly? Scrabble?” Abby searched her memory for anything she’d liked at their ages, but without siblings or close friends, she’d spent most of her childhood between the pages of good books. “Cards?”
Drew dove in for a sneak attack on Tyler and they crashed against the sofa. It screeched against the hardwood floor.
“Stop!” she ordered. “Now.”
Chastened, they fell apart, breathing hard—and then Tyler punched Drew in the ribs and they were at it again.
“Grab your shoes. We’re leaving.” She thought fast. “I could use your advice, really. Do you guys know anything about pets?”
That got their attention.
“Why?” Tyler asked, dodging another feint by Drew.
Hubert’s broom handle began pounding an all too familiar rebuke.
“I, um, think I’ll be moving very soon.” Maybe sooner than I planned. “And I was thinking about checking out the animals at the shelter. Would you like to go there and help me look? We’ll need to hurry, though. I think they close at eleven on Saturdays.”
“Awesome!” Drew spun away and pulled his Nikes from the pile of shoes the kids had left at the door. “A big dog would be really cool. Like, a guard dog, or something.”
“Something cuddly,” Lily ventured, her eyes downcast. “With big brown eyes and lots of white fur.”
“Maybe a hedgehog.” Tyler grabbed his own shoes and jammed his feet into them. “You could even keep it in your pocket when you were at work.”
The image made Abby laugh out loud. “Interesting idea, sport. Now tell me how you’d get it out of your pocket!”
Given an interesting activity, the boys seemed to have forgotten their wrestling techniques. Abby breathed a sigh of relief. After an hour at the shelter and an hour or so at the lake, they could stop at that little malt shop in town for lunch.
With luck, she could find something else to entertain them until three, and then she could give them all back.
If she lasted that long.
How on earth did mothers survive day after day after day?
THE KIDS BOUNDED out of Abby’s car when she pulled to a stop at the animal shelter. She rested her palms at the top of the steering wheel and dropped her head against them for a moment, still reeling after Hubert’s announcement from his porch.
That’s it. Your phone jangles day and night. You come and go twenty-four hours a day and create a ruckus. Be out of here when your month’s rent is up July eighth. If you find another place sooner, I’ll gladly refund the difference.
He’d stalked back into his house but, Hubert-like, didn’t slam the door. He closed it quietly…with the finality of a judge passing sentence on a habitual felon.
She’d tried explaining the late-night calls from the hospital staff. The times she’d had to go back to the hospital for emergencies or to cover for a nurse who’d called in sick. The fact that the kids were just a one-time deal.
But to Hubert the explanations hadn’t mattered.
If she hadn’t been so aware of the stares of several neighbors watching from their porch swings and the curiosity of the three kids, she might have found it almost funny.
At a sharp rap on her car window she looked up to find three eager young faces plastered to the glass.
“Come on!” Drew urged. “They won’t let kids in there without an adult!”
Hurry, Tyler mouthed, as if she couldn’t hear through the door.
She got out of the car and took them into the shelter where the smell of pine disinfectant, dogs and cats assailed her nostrils.
An employee on the phone waved them on back. Down a short hall behind her, two rooms housed dogs and cats, and a third held a variety of small pets.
The boys headed straight for the door marked Dogs, while Lily veered off into the room at the left with a cat decal on the door.
Abby wavered, then bore to the right, figuring that the cats could scratch…but dogs had bigger teeth and she already knew the boys were impulsive.
Sure enough, Drew was on his knees in front of a giant black dog, his finger wiggling through the wire mesh. “Drew!”
He shot an unrepentant glance at her and went back to cajoling the dog to come closer.
“Drew,” Abby repeated, touching his shoulder. “We have no idea about that dog’s temperament. I want to give you back to your mother in one piece.”
He reluctantly pulled his hand back. “This is a really cool dog.”
Several cages down, Tyler had passed a pen of gamboling beagle mix puppies to crouch at a cage that appeared to be empty at first glance. “What did you find?”
He looked up at her, his eyes swimming with tears, then threaded his fingers through the mesh and whistled softly. “Here, boy. Come, on.”
At the back of the cage, a medium-size dog had pressed itself as far into the corner as it could. Possibly a springer-golden retriever mix, Abby guessed, given its dingy gold-and-white-spotted coat and the freckles.
Drew’s favorite glowed with good health, its coat and eyes gleaming. This poor fellow, with one bandaged leg, was covered in mats and burrs. His thin sides were heaving as if he’d just run a long way. Pneumonia, maybe?
“This is the saddest one here,” Tyler whispered. “This is the one you should take. He needs you.”
“He does look sad, but I can’t choose one just yet.” Abby rested her hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “I need to find a new place to stay—and there aren’t many options. I might not be able to find one that allows pets.”
“That almost happened when we moved here. We had to get permission before we could keep our dog Scout. Maybe you could ask?”
The dog in the corner lowered its head and painfully eased onto its belly to crawl forward a few inches. Its sad brown eyes were fastened on hers as it moved, and its timid approach drew her more than any of the bouncing, excited tail-wagging in the neighboring pens. “I wonder what happened to this one.”
At the sound of footsteps, Abby turned to see the attendant coming down the aisle. “Stray. She’s not doing too well, though.”
“So it’s a girl, then.”
“Yep. Looks like she had puppies a couple months ago, but no one has seen any sign of them. Maybe the owner found homes for them and just dumped her off in the country.”
Outrage burned Abby’s stomach. “That’s horrible.”
“The jerk probably figured it was cheaper than paying to have her spayed.” The middle-aged woman shrugged. “Happens all the time, and we end up with whatever survives. This one got hit. I’d guess she was out on some road, trying to follow her owner’s car after he dumped her.”
Abby’s stomach churned. “Someone who didn’t even care if she starved.”
“She’s still starving. Won’t eat. Barely drinks. I’d guess she’s homesick, in addition to her injuries.”
Sure enough, full pans of food and water in the pen appeared to be untouched.
“But she’ll find a good home, here. A second chance?”
The woman glanced briefly at Tyler, who was still staring at the dog. She shook her head. “People want young and healthy dogs. Outgoing, playful animals. This one’s so scared and nervous, we haven’t even been able to brush the knots out of her coat.”
The dog stopped at the center of the cage and rested its chin on the concrete between its outstretched front paws.
The pain and sadness in its huge brown eyes seemed to wrap around Abby’s heart. “I wish I could have a dog where I live now.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I just moved here, but I’ll be looking for another place to live. Do you think she’ll still be here at the end of the month?”
“There’ll be other dogs. Young, healthy, low-maintenance dogs.”
“And I work full-time, so a dog would be alone…”
“Then you should get a cat. Me? I prefer cats. No worries about letting them in and out.”
“But…” The pager vibrated at her hip. Abby looked down at the text message and sighed. “Hey, guys, we’ve got to go.”
“Aw, can’t we stay longer?” Drew had ventured to the other side of the aisle, where he’d started fondling the silky ears of a cocker. “Please?”
“I’ve got to get to the hospital.” Abby fingered the shoulder strap of her purse before meeting the woman’s eyes. “How much time?”
“Time? Oh, you mean for Belle.” The attendant lifted a page on the clipboard fastened to the front of the run. Her expression turned sympathetic. “Tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
“If I paid…” Abby hesitated, then plunged ahead despite the warning bells in her head. “Like a deposit, or something. Would that save her for a while?”
“We can’t do layaways, ma’am. The manager says its strictly cash and carry.”
“You can’t hold her? For just a while?”
“People walk out and forget to come back, leaving us wondering what to do.” The woman held out her hands, palms up. “We’ve had animals in limbo for months that way. Our budget is so tight we just can’t afford it.”
This clearly was not meant to be. Abby didn’t have a home herself, much less one for the sad creature staring up at her. There’d be vet bills—maybe huge ones. And the pager at her hip was buzzing again, so she had to leave now.
“How much does adoption cost?” Abby said as she herded the boys toward the door.
“Eighty, with spay, worming and shots. But, ma’am—”
“What if I pay that, plus her daily board until I can take her? I’d give you my phone number and come back every day to check on her. Deal?” Abby spied Lily studying a canary in the Small Pets room and motioned for her. “But right now, I’ve got an emergency at the hospital and I’ve got to leave.”
The woman frowned. “A rushed decision isn’t always a good one. Come back tomorrow morning and I’ll make sure she’s still here. Okay?”
“Perfect.” Abby handed her a business card, then followed the kids out the front door. “I’ll be back!”
“THE DOCTOR will be here in just a moment, Mr. Matthews,” murmured the ER nurse as she took his vitals.
Ethan winced and looked away when she lifted the edge of the blood-soaked bandage on his forearm. Keifer’s voice filtered down the hallway from the receptionist’s desk, where the woman had promised to keep an eye on him. “Where’s my dad? I want to see my dad!”
An indistinct voice responded and his son quieted, but Ethan knew this ordeal had to be terrifying for him.
Hell, the boy’s mother had just dropped him off last night for the summer, and at this very moment she was flying out of the country. And then on his very first morning here, the poor kid had seen his dad nearly lose an arm in the power-take-off mechanism of a grain auger.
The stuff of nightmares, surely, and the irony was almost as painful as Ethan’s injury.
He’d wanted the next three months to be a wonderful adventure. He only saw his son for part of each summer and on alternating holidays.
From the lobby area, Ethan heard kids arguing over something. He frowned, remembering the icy blonde who’d walked into the hospital just ahead of him with her three children.
She’d breezed through the lobby with an offhand, “Keep an eye on these three, Beth!” And then she’d disappeared down the hall.
Some people, like his ex-wife and that presumptuous blonde, certainly showed little interest in motherhood, far as he could tell.
A woman in a white lab coat with a stethoscope draped around her neck hurried into the room. “I’m Dr. Jill Edwards,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “I hear you had an argument with an auger.”
“It won. The painkiller is really starting to kick in, though.” Ethan rested his head against the paper-covered pillow on the gurney and regretted every moment of this day as Dr. Reynolds carefully unwrapped his haphazard bandaging.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “This is beyond the scope of a hospital this size, Mr. Matthews.”
Startled, he looked up at her as she gently cleansed the edges of the wounds and then firmly wrapped the arm again with clean bandaging. She nodded to a nurse, who quickly shoved an IV stand next to the other side of the bed and opened a package of IV supplies.
He winced when she placed the IV needle in his arm. “It’s only a few lacerations, right? You can sew them up?”
Dr. Edwards shook her head. “It’s more involved than that. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you stand a good chance of losing function of your hand—or worse—if this isn’t done right. I’m referring you to an excellent surgeon in Green Bay.”
Ethan closed his eyes as the deadline he had to meet and the activities he’d planned for Keifer all went up in smoke. “That isn’t necessary. Hell, last year I needed thirty stitches when a bull took after me. Doc Olson stitched it up in his office and it healed good as new.”
“The tendons and nerves are involved, and the wound is badly contaminated.” The doctor nodded curtly to the nurse, who moved to an intercom on the wall and instructed someone to make arrangements for transport and admission to a hospital in Green Bay. “You need this taken care of as soon as possible.”
“I…can’t do it.”
“Mr. Matthews—”
“No. I have my son with me for the summer. I don’t have relatives here, and there’s no one else to take care of him.”
Removing her gloves, Dr. Reynolds murmured something to the nurse, then she turned back to him and lifted the rail on his gurney. “We’re going to find someone to help you out, so don’t worry.”
“If…if I do go, that would just be an outpatient deal, right? Back here today?”
“Maybe. And perhaps you could come here for follow-up care.”
“Follow-up?”
“If you should need IV antibiotics and dressing changes.” She looked over her shoulder. “Ah, here you go. I need to check on someone else, but I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Someone slipped into the exam room just out of Ethan’s visual range and spoke quietly to the doctor, then moved to his bedside.
It was the blonde who’d, like the Queen of England, so casually dumped her kids on the overworked receptionist. “I’m Abby Cahill, the director of nursing. I understand there’s a problem?”
He was starting to feel woozy, now that the pain meds were hitting his system, but he wasn’t too out of it to catch her patronizing tone. “I just need to take care of this here and get home. In fact, I could probably just leave right now.” He started to sit up, but she gently pushed him back down. “If I keep it bandaged—”
“Mr. Matthews!” She blew out an exasperated sigh. “I really don’t believe you’re thinking clearly right now. Do you realize how serious this is?”
First patronizing, now insulting. He felt his blood pressure kick up another notch. “I can’t go to Green Bay. What about my son? Keifer must be terrified.”
“Beth is entertaining him,” Abby said quietly. “As for you, the helicopter should be here in fifteen minutes. When it arrives, you need to get on it.”
He swore under his breath as the room began to spin. “You don’t understand. He’s only ten, and—”
“He’ll be fine. I’m sure the hospital social worker can handle this.”
He bristled at her nonchalance. “I—I will not pawn him off on a total stranger.”
“Mr. Matthews—”
“This is…the first time I’ve had him for an entire summer. I don’t know any child-care people. But—” he gripped the rails of the gurney as his stomach started to pitch “—that…doesn’t mean I’ll let him go with just anybody.”
“Our social worker is very trustworthy. I’m sure she knows some good families—people who work here at the hospital, even.” Abby nodded decisively and headed for the door. “We’ll get Linda in here right now, and see what we can come up with.”
Abby was back in five minutes with a bony, middle-aged woman who looked about as comforting as a truant officer. “This is Mrs. Groden.”
Frowning, the woman stepped to his bedside. “Our local foster families are full right now, but I’ll certainly find a place for your son if you’re admitted in Green Bay.”
“Overnight? No way.”
“Rest assured—”
“Dammit, no. How assured will Keifer feel, with someone we’ve never even met?” He tried to shake off the nurse who’d started taking his blood pressure again, but she clucked impatiently and he gave in.
“All right, then,” Abby said. “You’ve met me, at least. I can keep him for the rest of the day. Overnight, if need be.”
Not on a bet. He’d already seen her in action with those rowdy kids of hers, and he wasn’t impressed. “I think…you have your hands full.”
She glanced impatiently at the clock. “I’ll just be here for an hour or so, until we can bring in a nurse to cover second shift. Your son will be safe with me until you get back. Scout’s honor.”
“No.” But his head was spinning in earnest now and his stomach was queasy. And, Lord help him, both Ms. Iceberg and her skinny social worker were starting to look just a little like angels with fuzzy halos above their heads.
“I am a nurse, Mr. Matthews.” Abby’s voice came from far away. “I’ll care for him as if he was my own.”
“I’d volunteer, but I’m on call all night.” The doctor’s voice floated by. “Abby’s an old friend of our hospital administrator and has taught nursing for many years. I assure you, your son couldn’t be in better hands.”
Ethan swallowed hard, fighting the inevitable. Then reached out blindly with his good arm for the plastic basin on the metal table next to his gurney.
Abby was there in an instant, one arm supporting his shoulders, the basin in position, and murmuring some sort of comforting words that barely registered as he threw up.
Minutes passed before he could find his voice. And he knew, finally, that he had to give in when the doc took another look at his arm and shook her head.
There was no way he could drive home.
“The Life Flight copter is just a few minutes out, Mr. Matthews,” Abby said. “We need to get you ready for transport.”
“M-my keys.” He fumbled at his side with his good hand and found the truck keys in his jeans’ pocket. “Two miles…out of town. Right on the church road…ten, eleven miles to the old corn crib and north past the Peters place. K-Keifer…knows.”
And then the light in the room faded and darkness enveloped him as he listened to the soft murmur of voices too distant to hear.
CHAPTER THREE
KEIFER KNOWS, Matthews had said as he’d awkwardly tossed Abby his set of keys.
The boy knew what? How to get home? Knew about something that had to be done?
His father had certainly had quite a reaction to the Demerol…first exhibiting drowsiness and dizziness, then signs of respiratory depression. Coupled with his nausea, he’d been one sick puppy.
During her years in nursing Abby had rarely seen that level of response.
And now Abby was facing his son—a boy masking his obvious fear and confusion with a veneer of arrogance—who really, really didn’t think he wanted to go with her, anywhere.
Pale and slender with close-cropped strawberry-blond hair and a dusting of freckles over his upturned nose, she wanted to reassure him with a hug. Fat chance.
The difference between him and the rowdy Reynolds boys—who’d gone home with their mother an hour ago—was night and day. The Reynolds were exuberant, mischievous, with a penchant for noise and trouble. This boy sat glaring silently at her as if she planned to kidnap him and sell him into child slavery.
It wasn’t a surprise, though. Keifer had only seen his dad for a few minutes before the helicopter left, and the man had been ghost-pale and too groggy to make any sense. That alone must have been scary.
“Honey, your dad just had a little reaction to the pain medicine,” Abby said gently. “He needs to have those cuts fixed on his arm, and then he’ll probably be back here tomorrow. If they want to keep him longer, I’ll take you up there to see him, okay?”
Keifer didn’t quite meet her eyes, and his mumbled response might have been a yes or no.
“In the meantime, I told your dad I’d take care of you. I’d been thinking that you could just come home with me, but he gave me directions to his place. Do we need to go there?”
Keifer’s chin jerked up and he gave her a level, challenging stare. “Chores.”
“Like, dogs maybe? Cats?” The boy didn’t answer, but feeding and watering a few pets wouldn’t be hard. She took Ethan’s keys out of the pocket of her lab jacket. “What time of day does he do these chores?”
“All day.”
“You mean, several times a day?” Abby looked up at the clock. “I imagine he took care of everything earlier this morning. We could go out now and get it done, then get back to town for a late supper.”
That earned her a derisive glance, but at least the kid followed her out to her car. He surveyed the vehicle with a dubious expression before hiking a thumb toward a battered pickup with big, big tires and a hydraulic winch mounted on the grill. “You should take Dad’s.”
It looked huge. It probably had a standard transmission. And driving it, she suspected, would be like maneuvering a bulldozer. “My car will be fine. Hop in.”
Keifer slumped in his seat, glued to the door, and folded his arms over his chest. She finally gave up trying to engage him in conversation when she turned off the main highway onto a loose gravel lane through stands of pine and hardwoods.
Heavy gray dust boiled up behind the car during the endless miles to the corn crib Ethan had mentioned…which, she hoped, was that small structure just ahead. Tipping drunkenly into a maple tree, it could have just been an old shed.
A dirt road veered off into the trees a dozen yards past the rickety building, but there were no street signs or mailboxes anywhere. In fact, she hadn’t seen signs of life for the past five miles.
“Okay, sport,” she said after stopping the car. “Is this where we turn?”
Keifer slumped lower in his seat. “Maybe.”
“We’ve come the right way so far?”
He craned his neck to peer out the window and shrugged.
“You’ve never been here?” Surprised, she turned to look at him.
“It was dark when I got here last night,” he said defensively. “And we were going the other direction this morning. I don’t remember from last year.”
Last year? What kind of dad only saw his son once a year? Her opinion of Ethan Matthews dropped. “That’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” She drummed her fingernails on the steering wheel, considering. “What do you think—should we take a chance on this little road?”
“I guess. I just remember it was kinda muddy.”
A description that fit the farm lane quite well from what she could see after they made the turn. Leaning forward to see ahead better, she negotiated the ruts and bumps of the first mile, then breathed a sigh of relief as the road started to climb.
The tumbledown house off to the left might be the Peters place Ethan had mentioned. And ahead…
“Is that it?” She pointed across a shallow valley to fenced pasture. Beyond that lay a collection of buildings nearly hidden by a grove of trees.
Keifer straightened in his seat to see over the dash. “There’s Buddy, Dad’s horse. The cows are prob’ly over the hill. And the goats—”
“The goats?”
“Three. They’re probably in the garden.”
“I’ll bet your dad wants them in there,” Abby said dryly.
“Not really, but he can’t make them stay out,” Keifer announced with relish, his mouth curved in a faint, smug smile. “They can get out of anything, he says. Baxter’s real mean.”
As she drove down the next slope, the mud grew deeper, grabbing at the tires and pulling the vehicle to one side. An ominous stretch of deeply rutted road lay between them and the Matthews place ahead.
She debated briefly, then gunned the motor and held the steering wheel in a death grip as the car shot forward. Halfway there. Three quarters…
The vehicle slowed as it sank deeper and deeper until it mired down with its wheels spinning uselessly and mud flying into the air behind them.
“Shoulda taken the truck,” Keifer observed, darting an I-told-you-so look at her.
“We might still be all right. Don’t worry just yet.” Abby unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door. The car was buried to its frame. “Okay. Now we can worry.”
The bright afternoon sunshine had gradually disappeared behind clouds during the past half hour. Her cell phone reception was mostly just static.
And the only towing service in the area was back at Blackberry Hill, though she’d overheard a disgruntled nurse complain that the owner often quit early and went fishing.
And she was almost sure she’d seen a truck emblazoned with Mel’s Towing ahead of her car as she’d driven out of town.
SOMEWHERE BETWEEN the car and the next dry stretch of road, Keifer lost a tennis shoe in the mud and Abby realized her taupe slacks and loafers were a total loss.
By the time she and the boy trudged up the last hill—which was much farther away than it had appeared from the other side—and reached the Matthewses’ mailbox, thunder echoed through the dark sky and bolts of lightning shook the ground beneath their feet.
“Run, Keifer!” Abby shouted over the rising wind. “I’ve got a key for the house.”
“Dad doesn’t lock it anyway!” he shouted back to her.
Even minus a shoe, he raced up the long driveway and reached the covered porch well before she did.
Soaked and shivering, she joined him at the log house and stared out at the deluge. “Well, this is certainly an adventure,” she said, wishing she dared put a comforting arm around his thin shoulders. “But at least we got here, right?”
He must have sensed her thoughts, because he pointedly moved a few yards away. He looked down at his muddied sock and some of his tough-kid veneer slipped away. “Mom is gonna kill me when she hears about my shoe.”
“Surely that won’t be a big deal. Not when she hears the whole story, right?”
When he didn’t answer, she grinned at him. “Anyway, you’re here with your dad for the summer. I’m sure he’ll get you another pair if we can’t find it.”
“I guess.”
“I suppose we’d better go inside, don’t you think? You can put on some dry clothes, and I’ll call for a tow truck. Then you can tell me about the animals we should feed while we wait for help.”
She followed Keifer to the end of the wrap-a-round porch, where a side door led into the kitchen. It felt strange walking into Ethan Matthews’s house with him away.
Several bloodied towels still lay on the counter by the sink, a macabre reminder of Ethan’s accident earlier in the day. She quickly filled the double sinks with cold water and put the towels in to soak while Keifer changed upstairs.
By the time he returned, she’d mopped up the rest of the evidence of Ethan’s injury and had left a message for the towing service. “I should call the sheriff and let him know about the road hazard, too. I’d hate to have anyone rear-end my car in the dark.”
“No one lives back here but Dad,” Keifer said as he rummaged in the cookie jar on the counter.
Now, there was an eerie thought, with a storm rumbling overhead and the kitchen lights flickering. “No one?”
“The road dead-ends just over the hill, so no one ever comes out this far, Dad says. That’s why I can ride his horse all over and he doesn’t worry.”
“Oh.” Feeling a sudden chill, she rubbed her upper arms. “So he doesn’t have any neighbors?”
“He doesn’t want neighbors.”
Well, that certainly fit her impression of the man. A stubborn recluse, who clearly resented any sort of interference from others—even with a serious injury to contend with. Abby suddenly felt very sorry for Keifer, who faced an entire summer in such isolation. “So…we’re entirely alone, then.”
“Yeah.” Keifer didn’t look too concerned. “Dad likes it because—”
He broke off suddenly as a fierce rumble of thunder shook the house. He hurried to the window. “Holy cow. The animals are loose!”
She went to look out the window, too. Her heart sank. There had to be four or five cows milling just beyond the chain-link-fenced perimeter of the yard.
Her heart sank even further when at least three goats and several muddy sheep wandered by. “Where are they supposed to be?” she said faintly. “And how on earth will we put them back?”
He looked up at her, his cocky bravado now gone and his eyes wide. “I think I know where they belong, but I don’t know how to make them go there.”
So in minutes those animals could be spread to the four winds, and there’d be little hope of finding them. And who knew how many more of them were already gone?
Matthews had been groggy when he’d handed her his keys, but she’d seen the distrust in his eyes and it had rankled ever since. For some reason he’d instantly judged her as incompetent…but who was he to judge?
She sure as heck didn’t want to prove him right.
“Wait a minute, I remember a pasture fence running along the road when we came up here, and lining both sides of the driveway. Wasn’t there a gate down by the mailbox?”
Keifer shrugged.
“If the entire property is fenced, and I can pull the gate shut across the driveway, then the livestock can’t escape. Right?”
“Maybe.” He chewed his lower lip. “But I don’t know anything about the other fences.”
“At least I’d be doing something to help.”
A gust of wind blasted the side of the house and rattled the gutters. A light tap-tap-tapping overhead rose to a deafening roar as hail battered the roof. Torrents of marble-size pellets bounced crazily off the driveway.
The livestock were clearly agitated as they disappeared into the sheltering trees. Where, she hoped, they wouldn’t find another way to leave.
“The moment this lets up I’m running down to close that gate. Stay here in the house. Promise?”
“You kidding? There’s no way I’m going out there.”
She waited until the hail stopped and the rain slowed, then grabbed a yellow slicker from a peg by the door. Outside, she crossed the yard and ran down the long, sloping lane. Slipping and sliding, she careened into a fence post once and then fell to her knees at the bottom of the hill.
With cold, wet fingers she struggled to untwist the wire that held the metal pipe gate securely open. She dragged its heavy weight shut across the rain-slick gravel just as the rain began to pick up again with a vengeance.
“Of course. Why not?” she muttered as she started back to the house, her head bowed against the wind. Nothing had been easy since she moved here, and now she and Keifer were stranded at this isolated place with no way to get back to town.
And then a long, dark shape materialized not twenty feet ahead. Its form blended like watercolor into the early dusk and driving rain, but the piercing yellow eyes were unmistakable.
She took in a sharp breath and stumbled to a stop, the hair at the back of her neck prickling. Her senses sharpened with an elemental awareness of danger. The house was too far away. There was no place to hide. She could never outrun it. The wolf took a step closer…
CHAPTER FOUR
ABBY’S HEART LODGED in her throat and her knees threatened to buckle as she stared at the wolf.
It stared back. Silent. So perfectly still that it seemed more apparition than real, its gray coat melting into the rain.
Primal fear flooded her veins with adrenaline. She took a small step backward. Another.
The wolf lifted its head, its gaze never wavering.
But there was nowhere to run.
Behind her, past the gate, Keifer had told her there were thousands of acres of government land. Even if she could scramble over the wire fence, the wolf could clear it much faster.
And running away would immediately identify her as prey.
Visions of lurid newspaper headlines rushed through her head as she took another step back.
Nursing Professor Killed By Rabid Wolf.
Stupid City Woman Killed While Roaming North Woods Of Wisconsin.
Through the mist she heard the distant sound of Keifer calling her name. And suddenly the situation was far worse.
Did wolves kill for sport? If she didn’t show up and the boy came looking for her, would he be killed, as well?
At that thought she ripped off her yellow slicker. Swinging it wildly in front of her, she yelled at the top of her lungs. “Stay in the house, Keifer. No matter what, stay in the house!”
After a long pause she heard, “Why? What’s going on?”
The wolf turned its head toward the house. Took one more long searching look at her. And then it melted into the shadows, leaving behind a swirl of mist and the sound of her pulse hammering in her ears.
Though God knew it could be waiting. And bears. Weren’t there lots of bears up here, too?
Taking a deep breath, she put a tentative foot forward, then another, singing at the top of her lungs and shaking her yellow slicker. Rain plastered her hair to her neck, drizzled down her collar. She slipped once on the slick gravel, slamming her knee against the rough stones and almost crying out.
Except that might be an invitation to a predator.
Forcing herself to walk steadily, she made another ten yards. Twenty.
Imagined the hot breath of the wolf at her back.
Thirty yards.
She almost wept with relief when she reached the porch.
Inside the kitchen she slammed the door shut and locked it, then dropped the raincoat, shucked off her ruined shoes and sagged onto a settee doubled over her folded arms.
“W-was something out there?” Keifer chewed his lower lip, his eyes darting nervously toward the door.
“Everything’s fine. Just…fine.” Shaking from the cold and the rain, but most of all from her overwhelming relief, she dredged up a smile. Then realized that she’d be doing him no favors if she didn’t tell the truth. “I saw a wolf.”
His tension faded to boyish disdain. “They wouldn’t come up by the house. Dad said so.”
She studied the poor young child, who could someday end up a snack for something with very large teeth if he wasn’t careful, and held back a curt reply. “Well, this one did. Maybe he was lost in the fog, but he saw me, and I sure saw him. We are not setting foot outside this house again tonight.”
He rolled his eyes. “Human attacks are rare,” he said, clearly reciting what he’d learned from his father. “We aren’t their natural prey.”
“If my wolf could get lost in the fog, he could also mistake you for one very large rabbit,” she said dryly. “Maybe he’s got dementia. We’re locking every door and we’re staying inside.”
When Keifer just rolled his eyes again, she gave up. “I could use some dry clothes. Could you help me find something?
That seemed to throw him. “Uh, there’s only Dad’s stuff here. He just has sweatshirts and stuff.”
“Show me where, okay?” The lights flickered. “But first we’d better find a flashlight…candles and some matches, too. We might not have electricity much longer.”
She glanced around the kitchen—a Spartan place, with bare windows, stark white cabinetry and none of the homey touches indicating a family lived here. On top of the cupboards she found a serviceable kerosene lamp and a quart of lamp oil.
Keifer pawed through the kitchen drawers and held up a box of matches and some white tapers. In another drawer, he found a flashlight.
“I think there’s more candles in the living room. There’s a fireplace, too.”
She put the lamp and candles on the round oak kitchen table and followed him. “Any wood?”
“Uh-huh.” Keifer switched on the light in the living room.
Close at his heels, she pulled to a stop.
Because the kitchen was devoid of personality and warmth, she’d expected the same in here. But this room, a good twenty by fifteen, was paneled in dark, burnished oak, with a lovely crystal chandelier hanging over a long dining room table. Beyond that, a matching set of overstuffed chairs, sofa and love seat were grouped in front of a massive stone fireplace, which took up half of the far wall.
With the framed Robert Bateman wildlife prints on the walls, Navajo throw rugs on the oak floor, and gleaming brass-and-glass sculptures accenting the end tables, it was a comfortable and very masculine room. Right down to the dust, Abby thought with a smile, glancing again at the chandelier.
Keifer crossed the room to the fireplace and prodded a well-stocked kindling box with his foot. “He’s got lots of logs, if we want a fire.”
“That’s a relief. You wouldn’t by any chance be a Boy Scout, would you?”
His head jerked up. “Why?”
Touchy. What was it with this kid? “I just wondered if you knew how to start a fire, that’s all.”
Behind her, an open staircase with a log railing led to a balcony, where three doorways presumably led to bedrooms. To the left of the fireplace, a door stood ajar. She rubbed her upper arms, shivering. “I can take care of making the fire. But first, I need some dry clothes.”
The boy put several logs in the fireplace. Studied them, then arranged them in the reverse order. From the stubborn tilt of his chin she suspected that it was just guesswork.
“Um, Keifer, could you tell me where I’d find your dad’s closet?”
The boy hitched a thumb toward the door near the fireplace.
“You don’t think he’d mind if I borrowed something?”
“Nah. He always wears the same old stuff anyway.”
Maybe this charming room was out of character, but Ethan’s choice of clothing apparently wasn’t. It really was surprising, she thought as she moved to the doorway and tentatively reached inside for a light switch. A recluse like Ethan, having such a lovely home.
Inheritance, maybe.
Or the lottery.
Perhaps even something illegal, which would account for his worry about a stranger taking care of his son. Kids tended to talk too much and if there was some sort of evidence…
She pushed the door open wider, expecting to see a sea of clothes scattered across the floor and a rumpled bed that hadn’t been made since 1970.
But again, Ethan surprised her.
The bedroom was huge—easily double the size of her own back in Detroit. There was definitely male clutter. Magazines piled next to the bed. A pair of jeans and a shirt slung over a chair. But the log-framed bed was made, and intriguing wildlife paintings hung on the walls.
Filling the wide outward curve of floor-to-ceiling windows stood a built-in desk topped with a computer, two printers and a phone/fax. Stacks of paper tilted precariously on the desk, on the floor next to it and on the chair. There were books open on every flat surface not filled with electronics and crumpled wads of paper lay like snowballs across the hardwood floor.
Whatever Ethan Matthews did, he certainly did with a vengeance.
She stopped to study a framed eight-by-ten on the bedside table. Ethan sat on a boulder with the boy—perhaps four or five—on his knee. Fall sunshine lit a backdrop of bright fall leaves and caught the golden highlights in his chestnut hair.
Abby’s breath caught at seeing the man in his element. She’d seen only his injury. His stubbornness. She’d been focused on his immediate need for appropriate care.
Here, his teeth flashed white against the tanned planes of his face. She couldn’t help but appreciate his broad, muscular shoulders, square jaw and strong cheekbones, yet she was even more impressed by the protective way he held his son.
Standing in his most personal space, she suddenly felt very much like an intruder. “Hey, Keifer,” she called over her shoulder. “Could you come here a second?”
He grudgingly showed up a few minutes later, a smudge of soot on his cheeks and his fingers blackened.
She hid a smile. “Could you help me find those clothes you mentioned? I hate to go hunting through your dad’s things.”
“The drawers,” he mumbled, pointing across the room. “Over there.”
She’d made it past the king-size bed when a loud crack! shook the house and the lights went out. The pungent, sharp tang of ozone filled the air.
She spun toward the door. Stumbling over something, she reeled into the edge of the desk. A towering stack of paper showered to the floor. “Keifer! Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer. “Keifer?”
Shuffling through the paper on the floor, she reached to steady herself against the desk and yet another stack of documents cascaded over the edge.
“Keifer!”
When she finally reached the door, the empty living room was dark and illuminated only by flashes of lightning, and she could hear the back door in the kitchen banging against the wall as gusts of damp air blasted through the house.
A door she’d locked just minutes ago.
“My God,” she whispered into the darkness. “Why would he leave?”
IGNORING THE SOUND of Abby calling his name, Keifer took a wary step off the porch stairs, clutching the edges of his rain slicker together with one hand. He aimed the flashlight around the yard, hoping Rufus would come running.
It was all the way dark now, with the rain falling in steady icy sheets. Such total blackness that the flashlight hardly mattered, and with the wind tearing at his raincoat, the beam wavered, creating spooky shapes and shadows.
Shaking as much from the cold rain as his lifelong fear of the dark, he took another step. And another. Then he gave up trying to hold the coat closed and gripped the flashlight with both hands. “R-Rufus? Roooo-fus!”
He heard whining from the direction of the toolshed. A faint yelp.
Lightning flashed. The surrounding trees lit up for a split second, their gnarled branches reaching for him, the whorls of bark on their trunks forming misshapen faces straight out of some slasher movie.
Stifling a sob, he ran to the shed and fumbled with the latch. From inside he heard the frantic scrabbling of toenails against the wood and a sharp bark. “Rufus?”
She burst through the door the second he got it open, twisting and wiggling around his legs, jumping up to lick his cheek. He fell flat on his butt, his hands palms down in the squishy mud. She licked his cheek again, but by the time he scrambled to his feet she’d disappeared into the shed again.
“Rufus!” He tried to fight back his panic as lightning struck again. “C’mon, girl. Please!”
She didn’t appear.
Warily, Keifer aimed the flashlight into the shed. Creepy stuff hung from hooks: ropes and saws and garden tools, the glittering blade of a scythe he’d seen Dad use to cut weeds. A few old rabbit cages were piled in a corner.
In the center, an old quilt covered a lumpy shape roughly the size of a grizzly.
“R-Rufus?” he whispered. “Where are you?”
Thunder rumbled through the sky, shaking dust from the rafters. He wavered, took a step back.
The black lab emerged from the shadows a second later with something small and limp hanging from her mouth. His stomach lurched. A rat?
Then something clamped onto his shoulder, and all he could do was scream.
CHAPTER FIVE
KEIFER’S KNEES BUCKLED as he panicked. Escape—but where?
He was already too far into the shed.
The door was blocked—
“It’s just me, honey…I called your name. Over and over.” Abby released his shoulder and patted him on the back, talking loudly above the wind-driven rain lashing the shed. “You scared me to death, running off like that!”
His fear turned to embarrassment and anger. “You’re not my mom.”
“I’m responsible for keeping you safe,” she said in an even voice. “Let’s go into the h—”
She stared over his head. He turned and saw Rufus had returned with that rat-thing in her mouth. He suppressed a shudder.
“Did you know she was going to have puppies?” Abby crouched and crooned softly to the dog. “I wonder if your dad knew they were due?”
Rufus edged farther into the pool of light from his flashlight. Sure enough, she held a bedraggled pup in her mouth. “It looks dead,” Keifer whispered.
Abby studied the puppy. “No, but I bet the poor thing is cold. Does the dog have a bed in here? Anything your dad might’ve set up to help keep her family warm?”
Keifer held out his hands, palms up. “He never said anything to me.”
“I think I’d better check.” Abby searched the floor with her flashlight.
Uneasy, Keifer looked over his shoulder at the darkness outside. Anything could be out there. Watching. Waiting. Back at home, he never slept without a night-light in his room and the hallway light on. Here, everything was darker. Lonelier. A lot more scary.
“Oh, dear,” Abby called. “Two. Three. Four, five, six…I think there’s seven, and they’re all huddled together on an old burlap sack. I’ll bet the mom wants to take them someplace else.”
“The kitchen, maybe? We could make a bed there, and I could stay with them all night.” Abby didn’t say anything for a moment, and he started to worry. “Are you still here?”
She reappeared with a small cardboard box filled with squirming puppies. Rufus whined and nosed through them, as if she was counting. “I was just thinking. You know, your dad’s kitchen is awfully clean and tidy. I’m not sure he’d want dogs in there.”
“Sure he would!”
“But I didn’t see any dog dishes. I’ll bet this gal is an outside dog, don’t you think?”
“He has her inside, too, sometimes. Honest.” Abby still looked doubtful. “Really. She’s in the house all the time, and he just lets her outside a lot. I’m sure of it.”
Rufus gently released the pup in her mouth. She licked it from head to tail, the puppy rolling over with each sweep of her tongue.
“Well…if you’re sure.” Abby frowned down at the pups in the box. They were shivering and squirming over each other as though trying to get warm. “Let’s bring them in tonight, anyway. It’s awfully chilly out here.”
Rufus followed them anxiously to the house. When they reached the porch, Abby put the box down and held on to Rufus’s collar. “You go on in and close the door to the living room, okay? And bring me an old towel so I can wipe the mom’s feet.”
In twenty minutes the pups and Rufus were settled into a corner of the kitchen in a big cardboard box cushioned with an old blanket Abby had found in the basement.
Keifer had found a sleeping bag upstairs and rolled it out next to the puppy’s box. He’d brought in a stack of books, too. With the thunder rolling outside and the glow of light from the kerosene lantern on the kitchen table, it almost seemed like camping.
“I’m going to work on that fireplace,” Abby said. “I think we’ll want a little heat tonight…and the extra light would be nice. Maybe we can warm something up for supper, too. Like a campfire. Does your dad have any hot dogs? Marshmallows?”
Keifer hadn’t seen anything in the bare refrigerator that looked as good as that, but he just shrugged and stared at the faint, muddy paw prints circling the kitchen.
Rufus had brushed up against the white cupboards, too.
He tried to imagine what Dad would say.
He sure didn’t have to imagine Mom’s response—she’d be totally freaked out. Anything involving dirt, animals, blood or sweat freaked her out. Which is why he’d never had any real pets. Only some dumb fish that couldn’t do anything but swim in circles.
After Abby left the room he stretched out in his sleeping bag, propped his chin on his palms and listened to the tiny squeaks and squeals from the puppy box.
He’d counted the days until coming here, but the first morning had been scary. And now Dad wasn’t even here and a stranger had taken his place.
But Abby said he’d probably be back tomorrow, and the puppies… He squirmed caterpillarlike in his sleeping bag until he could see over the top of the box and count them all over again.
The empty feeling in his chest eased as he watched Rufus lick and nudge her pups. Even if Dad wouldn’t be able to do all the fun things he’d promised, there’d still be puppies to play with, and Keifer wasn’t going to be homesick for Mom and all his friends back home.
He backhanded a hot tear before it had a chance to fall. Nope, he wasn’t going to miss them.
Not much at all.
AFTER A SLEEPLESS NIGHT on the sofa, Abby cracked an eye open to look at her wristwatch. She flopped back against the cushions and pulled the afghan up over her shoulders. Five o’clock.
When had she last been awake at five?
The storm had finally passed, but Rufus had barked anxiously at the door at least three times. She’d blearily shuffled out to the kitchen and then had stood on the chilly porch until the dog returned. Amazingly enough, Keifer had barely stirred.
Drifting and dreaming, only half awake, Abby snuggled deeper under the afghan, thankful for the marshmallow-soft sofa.
It was so peaceful here, the silence of the forest broken only by the distant hoot of an owl, a chorus of coyotes…gentle mooing….
She sat bolt upright. Mooing?
Throwing back the afghan, she hurried barefoot across the cold hardwood floor to the window and squinted out at the gray predawn landscape. Heavy fog hung low to the ground, leaving the tops of fence posts and bushes hovering weightless several feet above the ground.
Farther away, large dark shapes drifted past like ungainly rowboats floating on a sea of fog. Very oddly shaped boats. One of them mooed.
Keifer pushed open the kitchen door and stood next to her, his hair tousled. “Weird,” he observed after a loud yawn. “So, are you gonna do chores?”
Chores. Interesting concept, that. What, exactly, did chores entail? She rubbed her upper arms and considered. “I don’t suppose your dad has a list?”
Keifer looked at her with the patience of a person dealing with the mentally incompetent. “He just does them. Why would he need a list?”
Lists were comforting. It was fun, making lists of things to do and crossing off each success. Without a list…on foreign ground…she was at a complete loss.
She crossed her arms and tapped her fingers on the bulky sleeves of the sweatshirt she’d borrowed. “If there’s no list, have you seen him do chores? I assume those cows get food. And what about the horse and those goats you mentioned yesterday?”
“I don’t know. I just got here.” Keifer shrugged. “Their food’s probably in the barn.”
“I’m sure it is, but I don’t know how much or what kind to give them.” She had an unsettling thought. “Um, he doesn’t milk those cows, does he?”
Keifer rolled his eyes. “They’re the beef kind, but he doesn’t eat them. He says, ‘Anything that dies here, dies of old age.’ He gave them all names.”
“Names?”
“Yeah. He was gonna raise cattle for money, but then they all sorta got to be pets. So now he says they’re the lawnmowers for his meadow.”
Feeling more and more like Alice after she’d tumbled down the rabbit hole, Abby sighed. “So, this mowing crew of his, have you ever seen your dad feed them?”
Keifer shrugged.
“Maybe we’d better try contacting him. He probably had his arm fixed last night, and he might even be on his way home. If I can track him down, maybe he’ll tell us what he wants done.”
Far more confident now, she tousled Keifer’s hair and went to the phone in the kitchen. In the far corner, Rufus raised her head over the box, then dropped back down, clearly occupied with her new family.
The line was dead.
Abby reached for her purse and rummaged for her cell phone. Her hope faded at the words No Service.
No way to contact the outside world.
No car—because hers was still mired in the road.
And, she remembered with a heavy heart, she’d promised to contact the animal shelter this morning about that poor dog on death row.
But surely the shelter wasn’t open to the public on Sundays, anyway. And surely the staff scheduled to feed the animals wouldn’t actually euthanize anything today…would they?
Biting her lower lip, she leaned against the kitchen counter and rubbed her face, the image of that sad, wary dog all too fresh in her mind. “I’m going outside, Keifer,” she called. “Can you tell me where the barn is?”
He came to the doorway. “Past the house. Driveway goes back there.”
Here, at least, was a ray of hope. She remembered driving through Wisconsin’s dairy country and seeing herds of black-and-white diary cattle lining up to get into their barn. Did beef cows know that trick, too?
“Maybe the cows will, um, follow me if they think they’ll be fed.”
Keifer wandered into the kitchen with a sullen expression. “The TV doesn’t work. Not the computer, either.”
“The electricity’s out. Maybe you’d like to just crawl into your sleeping bag and go back to sleep while I go outside. It’s too early to be awake, anyway.” When he glanced nervously at the curtainless kitchen windows, she added, “Rufus will be in here with you, so you’ll be fine.”
“Uh…maybe I better come along. Just in case.”
She hid a smile as she went to the back door. “If you prefer. I’m sure you’re more of an expert at all of this than I am.”
She sorted through a pile of boots, found a small pair that had to be Keifer’s, and handed them over. The rest were size elevens. After considering her muddied shoes, still wet from last night, she took a pair of rubber work boots, found some ratty yellow gloves and stuffed one into each toe.
“These are going to look like clown shoes,” she muttered, looking up at Keifer. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
He nodded solemnly, though his mouth twitched.
The fog still hung low and heavy, tinged now with the faintest shade of rose. The cows had moved farther toward the road, where—luckily—she’d closed the gate last night.
“Do you ever see wildlife around here?” she asked casually as she followed Keifer down the lane toward the barn.
“’Possums. ’Coons. Deer. No wolves, though, if that’s what you mean.”
He stepped into a mud puddle with a splash and nearly fell, his arms flailing. “Whoa!” She steadied him.
She glanced around at the forest still shrouded in mist…where something rather large could hide.
“I think I saw a bear once,” the boy continued, “but it was pretty far away. Dad sees wolves, but not this close, so I never saw one. Pictures, though. Dad takes lots of pictures.”
“Pictures,” she echoed, trying to imagine the man she’d met as a photographer. “Really.”
The lane climbed a gentle hill and soon they were out of the ground fog. “For his book.”
“Like a picture album?”
“No, a book about wolves.”
She glanced at Keifer, but the boy kept trudging on with his attention on the ground in front of him. If the kid had said Ethan Matthews raised platypuses and giraffes, she couldn’t have been more surprised. “He writes books?”
“Not kid books, though.”
“Really.” Maybe the boy had things a little confused. The man she’d met at the hospital had hardly seemed the erudite, professorial type.
Ahead, probably another twenty yards, the first slivers of sunlight picked out a wooden barn that must have been constructed recently, and beyond it, a fenced pasture and a much older barn weathered to pewter-gray.
On the south side of the new barn, a ten-or twelve-foot pipe gate hung askew from just one hinge, its top bars bent.
“I think we’ve just discovered how your dad’s livestock got out,” Abby said, relieved. “He must’ve forgotten to chain the gate.”
“Dad doesn’t do stuff like that. He’s real careful.”
“Maybe when he got hurt out here, he couldn’t get it fastened. Let’s bring a bucket of grain from the barn and see if we can lure some of those animals back, okay?”
“I’ll get it.” Keifer ran through the gate and disappeared around the building. He returned a moment later, ducked into the barn, and soon came out with a bucket of corn that was obviously a heavy load for a kid his size. Puffing, he set it down at her feet. “I think this is weird, though.”
She caught the handle of the bucket in one hand and tested the weight of it, then started back down the lane. “What’s weird?”
Keifer chewed at his lower lip. “The pens for the sheep and goats were open, too!”
Abby switched the heavy bucket to her other hand and flexed her tender fingers. She smiled down at him. “He was hurt, so he was probably in a hurry.”
“No. I mean, he was—but I was out here with him when it happened. He never opened those other gates.”
Abby paused. “You said goats were smart and hard to keep penned, so maybe they just played Houdini.”
“Who?”
“Houdini was a guy who could escape from just about anything.”
“No.” Keifer’s voice held an edge of fear. “It wasn’t the goats. The locks were sawed off, Abby. Why would anyone do something like that?”
Abby eyed the muddy barnyard. “I’ll take a look if we actually get any of the livestock back up here,” she said. “Now, let’s see if we can round up some critters.”
THIRTY MINUTES LATER Abby was hot, muddy and frustrated.
The sheep and cows were nowhere to be seen, but shaking a bucket of grain certainly attracted the goats. They charged toward her as if that grain were their last, desperate hope for survival, then shouldered one another out of the way and nearly knocked her off her feet.
She hurried to the barn, with three irate goats butting at the bucket, and her.
Headline: Foolish Nurse Lures Angry Goat Mob With Grain—Trampled To Death. Or, Woman Chased By Goats—Spends Two Weeks In A Pine Tree.
Both sounded entirely too plausible by the time she’d finally trapped them in their pen.
Keifer, who’d brought up the rear, eyed them warily as she poured part of the grain into a feeder and quickly slammed the gate shut again.
Leaning against the gate to catch her breath, she ran a hand wearily through her hair. “I’ve definitely lost my fondness for goats,” she announced. “How about you?”
But Keifer wasn’t paying attention. He’d squatted by the gate to study something and held up a long heavy chain and padlock. “See, I told you,” he said.
She stared at the ruined padlock. Then turned slowly to scan the nearly impenetrable forest surrounding the little buildings on three sides.
Shadows seemed to coalesce, materialize, then slink away. Every boulder, every clump of under-growth offered a place to hide.
Someone had cut that padlock after Ethan left. Someone who’d wanted to cause trouble. But why?
And the bigger question… Where was that intruder now?
She turned to Keifer and reached for his hand just as a much taller shape loomed out of the mist not twenty feet behind the boy.
She bit back a scream.
CHAPTER SIX
ETHAN SPUN AROUND, expecting to find a ten-foot bear looming over him or an angry moose, ready to charge.
“Dad!” Keifer started to run for him, then faltered to a stop. His face looked worried as he stared at the heavy white bandaging that covered Ethan’s arm from elbow to fingers. “Holy cow.”
Ethan gave his arm a rueful glance, then welcomed Keifer into a one-armed hug. “I’ll be good as new before long.”
He looked over the boy’s head at Abby. “W-we weren’t expecting you,” she said, her voice faint. Splattered with mud from head to toe, she gripped a length of chain until her knuckles turned white.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you two, either, since I didn’t see my truck in the drive. Where’d you park it?”
“About your truck…”
There were dark circles under her eyes and she was clearly exhausted. He felt a pang of guilt. Though much of yesterday was foggy, he dimly remembered handing her his truck keys and mumbling something about chores. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come out here. Especially not in this wea—”
Lightning struck somewhere close with an earsplitting crack followed by a long, ominous roll of thunder. Raindrops rippled the puddles of standing water at their feet, and then it began to fall in earnest.
“The goats are in,” Abby said over the rising wind. “But I didn’t…get…”
The goats? He shook his head, unable to hear her clearly. “Get back to the house!” he shouted. Keifer took off like a jackrabbit. Abby tried to yell something else, but he gestured and started down the hill, shielding his arm with the tail of his shirt. If the damned thing soaked through, he’d probably need to go back to the hospital again. A long drive. A waste of time.
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