One Summer (16 page)

Still, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t gone on plenty of dates over the years. Doing some quick math, she realized she’d been dating for seventeen years. Well, technically fifteen, taking into account her recent two years’ moratorium. But that still worked out to more years of going on dates than she’d been alive when she first went to the Spring Fling dance with Charlie McMann her junior year of high school.

So why was she even more nervous now than she’d been back then?

Maybe because she was out of practice?

Or more likely because Charlie, who was currently a pharmacist in Reno, was no Gabriel St. James. Charlie had been sweet, shy, and absolutely harmless.

Again, unlike the Marine, who was due to arrive in less than an hour. She suspected, given his years in the military, he’d be punctual.

She was already running late, thanks to the insanity that had ended her day: a case with a cat she’d diagnosed with diabetes, which required explaining to the upset owner how to inject the prescribed insulin; a routine dental exam on a cat that had ended up in surgery for two extractions; a Lab that had been shedding too much even for summer, and that she’d diagnosed with heartworm, contracted because the owner, a laid-off mill worker, hadn’t been able to afford to buy the preventative medicine; and yet another unexpected surgery to remove a Hot Wheels fire truck from a Dalmatian’s stomach. Since the surgery wasn’t life threatening, she’d allowed herself to laugh with the owner once the metal truck had been retrieved.

Just thinking of the irony now took a bit of the edge off.

She was smiling when her mother appeared in the doorway. “You’re not going to pull your hair back like that, are you?” Amanda asked with obvious disapproval.

“It can be breezy at the harbor.” She fastened it at the nape of her neck with a silver clip.

“Loose is sexier.”

“Then I’m on the right track. Because I’m not going for sexy.”

“Well, isn’t that the waste of a date?”

“I fail to see how having strands of hair stuck to my lipstick could be considered sexy.”

“You have a point.” Her mother fluffed her own perfectly coiffed hair that always made her look as if she’d just walked out of a chichi salon. “Though that
would
call attention to your mouth.”

“I don’t want to call attention to my mouth. I don’t want to call attention to any part of my body. In fact, I’d just as soon stay home.”

“Too late,” her mother said as the doorbell rang downstairs with a peal of chimes. “I’ll go let him in.”

Damn. She might be out of practice when it came to dating, but Gabriel St. James was even worse than she. What was he doing arriving thirty minutes early?

She threw on her new outfit, quickly slipped into the sandals, and was on her way down the stairs when she met her mother, who was on her way back up.

“It’s not him,” Amanda said. “There’s a woman waiting in the foyer. With what I’m guessing, from her expression and red-rimmed eyes, is a serious problem.”

Charity had learned early on in her career that most vets, especially ones in small towns that didn’t have an after-hours emergency clinic, were on call twenty-four hours a day. Another important reason to love the work, she thought as she walked into the clinic.

Sofia De Luca was sitting on the love seat in the foyer, Rosemary lying at her feet. Sofia’s face was blotchy and her eyes were, indeed, red-rimmed. Although the dog obviously lacked strength, Rosemary managed a welcoming thump of her tail. A young man Charity recognized as one of Sofia’s gardeners was standing by the door, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

“It’s time,” the older woman said, pushing herself to her feet. “Rosemary told me.”

To anyone who’d not grown so close to a beloved animal, that statement might have sounded foolish. But Charity had witnessed this situation too many times to not totally believe it.

She placed a hand on Sofia’s arm. “I’m so sorry. But if it’s any consolation, I believe you’re doing the right thing.”

It was always hard to euthanize any pet. But Rosemary had a dreadful long-term prognosis. Perhaps, by increasing the medications and with constant care, they’d be able to eke out a few more weeks. But her suffering, as well as such a long good-bye, would be painful not only for the dog but for its owner.

“Well, it’s not as if we didn’t all know it was coming.” Sofia sighed wearily and for the first time since Charity had met the herb-farm owner, she looked every bit of her seventy-plus years. “And she’s been trying like the dickens to stay with me, but I realized this afternoon, when she could barely lift her head, that she was ready to let go.” She glanced over at the silent young man. “Fortunately, Benny was working late, transplanting some lavender, and offered to carry her to the car. Then into here.”

Charity offered him a slight smile. “Thank you.”

“I was glad to do it.” Red flooded into his already ruddy cheeks as he apparently realized how that might sound. “I mean, I’m not glad about Rosemary dying. That’s really a bummer. But I’m glad I was there to help.”

“We know, dear,” Sofia said soothingly. She managed a wobbly, encouraging smile of her own toward the young man.

“You didn’t have to come into town.” Charity had assured Sofia that when the time came, she’d be willing to make a house call.

“We wanted to.” The smile faltered as she bent down and rubbed Rosemary’s ears. “Rosemary does so love to ride in the truck, I thought she’d enjoy one more spin around the harbor. She perked up a bit at the sound of the gulls.” Her voice cracked a bit on that part. “She’s always enjoyed chasing them. I picked her up a crab cake at the Crab Shack, which is another of her favorite treats. She managed a little bite, but I suspect that was partly to please me.”

“She’s always loved you.”

“She was my husband’s dog,” the older woman said. “I didn’t really want another after our beloved cocker, Peggy, passed on. But Joe convinced me that the house was too quiet with just the two of us.” She rubbed an age-spotted hand over the top of the dog’s head. “He was right. Rosemary brought so much joy and energy back into our lives, I don’t know what I would have done without her when he got the cancer.”

She sighed. “And then it caught her, too.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’re not the only one.” She drew in a deep breath. Squared shoulders clad in a denim shirt. Her eyes, shiny with unshed tears, met Charity’s. “We’d best get on with it.”

Charity led the trio out to the contemplative garden, then instructed Benny to lay Rosemary onto the lawn, which still carried the sweet scent from this morning’s mowing. When Sofia sat down beside her, the dog put her head into the woman’s lap.

“I’ll be back in a couple minutes,” she said, wanting to give Sofia and her beloved companion one last private moment to say good-bye.

Benny, who followed her back into the clinic, was more than happy to wait while Charity performed what was always the most difficult part of her profession.

The dog’s death was swift, peaceful, and merciful, and although Charity knew it may have been merely a trick of the light, she thought she viewed the life leave Rosemary’s eyes an instant before she administered the injection.

“She’s already somewhere else,” Sofia said with what sounded like relief, despite the grief lining her face. Charity had seen such conflicted emotions too many times.

“Eating crab cakes,” Charity said.

“And terrorizing gulls.” Sofia chuckled even as the tears began to flow.

The prearranged plan was to leave the dog’s remains with Charity, who’d arrange for cremation, then bring the ashes in the simple wooden urn back to the farm. Charity gave the woman a hug.

“Stay as long as you need,” she said.

“Thank you.” The elderly woman’s words caught a bit on the lump in her throat.

Charity went back inside and waited.

After she’d come inside and thanked Charity, then said good-bye, Benny walked her out to the truck, then returned to carry the dog into the room where Charity would finish the job. Although she could have taken care of that herself, she understood it was something he wanted to do for his employer. And friend.

Standing on the porch, Charity watched the two of them drive away.

What Sofia didn’t know was that Charity always took a clay paw-print cast of each animal she euthanized. In this case, there’d be a memory of Rosemary in the garden of Lavender Hill Farm, where she’d walked with Sofia for so many years.

The dog had lost a great deal of weight in the past weeks. Enough that Charity was able to lift its body in the freezer, where it would stay until the crematorium employee picked it up tomorrow.

Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, even knowing they’d done the right thing, she scrubbed up, then went into the kennel, where she found Winnie nursing her pups, who were happily suckling away.

“We’ll give it a few days,” she said, patting the bulldog’s broad head. “Maybe a few weeks. Then I’ll take you out to the farm to visit and see how you two get along on your first date.”

Damn, she’d totally forgotten about her date with the Marine. Looking down at the grass stains on her new white jeans from sitting on the lawn with Sofia and Rosemary, she realized she’d have to change clothes.

“Maybe it’s a sign,” she muttered as she crossed the foyer, headed toward the stairs to go back up to her apartment. “That this damn date wasn’t meant to be.”

“Good try,” a deep voice shattered her introspection. “But you’re not getting off the hook that easily.”

There, standing in front of her, not quite physically blocking her way, but large enough that she’d have to dodge around him, was Gabriel St. James. She thought she saw a glimpse of something—empathy, sympathy?—in eyes the color of rain. Then, like a flash of lightning out at sea, it was gone, leaving them cool and remote.

“I’m sorry.” The surprising thing was, she meant it. “But I’ve had a really, really bad day, and—”

“All the more reason to get out of here for a while. I imagine, as convenient as it might be, there’s also a downside to living above the store, so to speak.”

That was true. But …

“I’d be lousy company.”

“Believe me, your idea of what constitutes a good dinner companion definitely changes after you’ve sat on your helmet eating MREs hunkered down beneath a rocky ledge in the Afghan mountains with a team of Marines. Besides, you have to eat.”

“I’m a mess.” She ran her hand down her thighs and wondered if she smelled of clinic and death rather than the expensive perfuse she’d spritzed on earlier. Then wished she didn’t care.

He tilted his head. “Are you always this hard on yourself?”

“Not hard. Truthful.”

“You look terrific. Though sad.”

“I lost a patient.”

“So your mother told me when she called.”

“She called you?”

“To explain that you might be a bit delayed. And not exactly up for going out in public.”

“Oh.” Charity knew her mother wasn’t nearly as shallow as she might appear. But she hadn’t realized empathy was one of her traits.

“Which is why I stopped by the Crab Shack and picked up something to go. I also brought dinner for your mother.”

Okay.
That
was thoughtful.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to get out of here. Get some fresh air. I thought we’d go to the beach. Have dinner, share some conversation, clear your head.”

“And unbreak my heart?”

“That’s probably not possible. A loss is a loss, whether you’re talking about a person or an animal,” he said. “But fresh sea air, fresh crab, and a little wine might ease the pain. Just a bit.”

Something occurred to her. “Where’s your dog?” Surely he wouldn’t have given it away? Or worse yet, taken it to one of those horrid kill shelters in one of the nearby towns?

“Upstairs with your mother. She offered to dog sit when she called. Last I saw, she was using pieces of fried shrimp to try to teach him to do a high five.”

A laugh burst out of her at the mental image of her socialite mother, clad in silk lounging pajamas, eating greasy fried seafood with her nightly martini while trying to teach a rescued Shih Tzu a trick.

“See.” The smile that split his harshly hewn face was all the more warming because it was so rare. “It’s already working. Run up and change into something that can handle the beach. Since the mutt seems to be surviving without me okay, I’ll wait here.”

She hesitated. Considered her options, then realized he was right. Some time out on the beach, breathing in the bracing scent of salt water and fir trees, was probably just what she needed.

“I’ll be right back down.”

He nodded. “I’ll be here.”

Of that, Charity had not a single doubt.

Charity didn’t talk much as they crossed the bridge over the harbor to the coast. Which was fine with Gabe. After all these months alone, he’d gotten accustomed to silence. He could tell that the death of one of her patients was weighing on her, though. Her face was pale and her eyes, shiny with unshed tears, showed traces of strain and sorrow. The bright energy that had first garnered his unwilling attention seemed dimmed. Like a candle snuffed out by a coastal wind.

“She was a golden retriever,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

“Great dogs.”

She nodded, though she continued to look out the passenger window, her attention on a seagull perched atop a wooden piling. She’d changed into a pair of wellworn jeans and a loose cotton blouse printed in swirling sea colors that looked as if she might be channeling the Age of Aquarius. “Her owner’s been through a lot, but she’s definitely one tough cookie. Still, it had to have been horribly difficult.”

“For both of you.”

“As I said at Cole and Kelli’s wedding, I don’t like to fail.”

“Name me one person who does.”