Raising The Stakes (Heartwarming Romance) (4 page)

“It’s okay.” Vivie imagined the poking and prodding she’d gotten today. No wonder she was disoriented and frightened. What a long ordeal for such a young animal. “Everything is going to be all right from now on. Promise.”

She turned to the doctor. “May I hold her?”

The veterinarian studied her then nodded slowly. “Just for a moment. We’re not supposed to let wild animals around people, but you were so good to those animals last winter.” They smiled at each other, remembering when Vivie had sought medical attention for the lame critter she’d found by her dumpster.

The doctor lifted the latch and swung open the door, gently pulling out the struggling bear.

“She’s heavier than she looks!” Vivie exclaimed, holding her tight when Doctor Morrison handed her over.

“Twenty-three pounds. A little underweight, actually, but within range. ”

Vivie inhaled the musky, clean scent of the cub, pulling her warm body closer still. She sniffed Vivie and seemed to relax. Vivie held in a laugh at the ticklish wet nose poking her ear.

The doctor stroked the cub’s back. “She likes you. She gave the vet tech a bit of a hard time earlier. Hardly got her to take half the bottle. But that’s understandable given her dislocation.”

Vivie snuggled the bear closer, kissing the top of her head when she burrowed under Vivie’s chin. “Can I try?”

Dr. Morrison appeared torn. “This is going against policy, but I’d sure like to see her eat.”

A minute later, Vivie was in a rocking chair, a blanket spread on her lap, the cub on its back, pulling hard at the rubber nipple from the uninjured side of her mouth.

“She likes it!” Joy filled Vivie as she watched the hungry youngster eat. The cub held the bottle between her paws, her eyes locked on Vivie’s. Too cute.

“I’m glad she’s eating so well,” observed Dr. Morrison. “Wasn’t sure if she’d be able to do it. But she seems like a pro now. Once the swelling goes down, she should be able to try regular food.”

“Of course she’s a champion.” Vivie smiled, feeling absurdly proud. She’d helped the bear eat. Had saved her last night. Everything about this moment felt right. Meant to be. If only Officer Walsh wasn’t in the picture...

As if on cue, the tall, trim man pushed through the swinging door and came toward them, his face grim.

“Thank you for caring for the bear today, Doctor Morrison.”

The older woman smiled up at him. “Always happy to help out the DEC. Any word about the cub’s mother?”

Vivie tensed, guessing his news from his expression. He glanced at her, his sad eyes belying the firm set of his mouth. “She’s been killed. Just finished up at the court house arraigning the poachers.”

“You’re sure it’s her?” Vivie gasped, fear snaking through her. She contemplated the oblivious cub who’d nearly finished her bottle. Was this her last meal? If the DEC had its way, it would be.

He nodded slowly. “Positive. The men confessed to everything.”

She stroked the cub’s face, imagining armed strangers trekking through her woods, the vicious assault on the mother bear, the frightened orphan with nowhere to turn until it’d found her.

“So then...” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her sentence.

Officer Walsh’s face gentled as he gazed at her, then the cub.

“I’ll be taking the bear and you can return to your diner. Thank you, Vivie, for helping today. If there were more people like you, we wouldn’t have these kinds of incidents.”

“I’ll get the cub in its carrier.” Dr. Morrison pulled the bear from Vivie and hurried away, leaving a strained silence behind.

“You’re just like the men you arrested,” Vivie accused when she could speak, despair and fury washing through her. “Killing an innocent animal.”

Officer Walsh took off his hat, his hair flatter than it’d been this morning, the strain around his eyes turning their color to moss.

“I’m performing a legal act. A humane one. The cub’s mother is dead and given her injured jaw and age, she’ll starve on her own.” He touched Vivie’s arm lightly and she jerked away. “I have no choice.”

“You do have a choice. We could save this animal’s life.” She held up her smartphone. “I’ve been studying all day for the test. Give me this chance.”

His eyes widened. “This isn’t about you, it’s about the bear.”

Insulted, she stuffed her cell away. “Yes. An animal you’re supposed to protect. I’m taking this seriously. So should you.”

Silence hung between them, tight and brittle, thrumming.

He glanced over at the eavesdropping vet tech. “Let’s discuss this outside.”

In the parking lot, he stopped beside his black SUV, the DEC police emblem painted in gold. She craned her neck to meet his eyes, hoping for some compassion, understanding, agreement, but the emotion she’d glimpsed earlier was gone, replaced by a shuttered expression.

“I’m taking this very seriously,” he began, his boots planted shoulder width apart, his hands linked behind his back. “Putting the bear down is the only sensible solution.”

“Sensible or easy?” she asked, feeling violent enough to push that mountain of a man. Get him to wake up. Realize how wrong he was.

He rocked back on his heels, as if her words had shoved him.

“It’s not that black-and-white. Let’s say you do pass the test. I help you build a code-approved structure and supervise your apprenticeship. Are you prepared for the rigors of caring for a wild animal? Big game? She could be nearing eighty pounds before she’s released or I locate a permanent home for her.”

The smell of barbecue floated on the late afternoon air and her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten since...when? The doughnut this morning? If anything, that showed how dedicated she was to the cub. To all of her pet family.

“If she’s injured, she’d be better off staying with me. Permanently. No release needed.” The sun slanted over a line of birches, spinning the fine hairs on his arms into gold.

Officer Walsh’s face softened. “That’d be the worst outcome...and unlikely. Wildlife rehabilitators only care for animals until they can either be returned to their habitat or placed in a sanctuary or reserve. Sooner or later you would lose her.”

“Then let it be later!” she cried, pacing. She’d fight that battle when the time came. For now, she had to win this war. Convince him to give her a chance. The bear had sought a home last night and Vivie would give it to her.

“And what about your diner?” He tapped the cleft in his chin. “You’re running a business. Taking care of the cub, especially in the early weeks, will be time-consuming.”

“I can make my own hours. Bake desserts and do the books, the schedules and ordering from home.” She leaned in, sure she could persuade him—if he had a beating heart. “That’s my usual contribution, anyway, since Maggie oversees the cooking and staff. Going in and seeing the customers every day isn’t necessary. Trust me, I’ve got this figured out.”

She clenched her chattering teeth and thought of the years she’d struggled to put her life together after her own attack. Her hands balled at her sides. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let this bear be a victim of circumstances beyond its control. It was a survivor, hadn’t given up. And neither would Vivie.

The bell above the clinic door jingled and Doctor Morrison emerged, lugging the oversize pet carrier. Officer Walsh reached the veterinarian in three long strides and grabbed the handle.

“Thank you, doctor. I appreciate everything you’ve done. Please send the bill to the DEC.”

Doctor Morrison glanced between the two of them then nodded. “Will do. Take care, now.”

Vivie waited until the clinic’s door swung shut to speak again.

“Please give me the cub.”

“We both know that can’t happen.” He placed the carrier atop the SUV, beyond her reach, and opened his trunk. “This is life, Vivie. Not everything, or everyone, gets a happy ending.”

She almost choked. Who knew that better than her? The bear’s fate shouldn’t be decided on someone else’s whim.

When Officer Walsh placed the carrier in the trunk, the little cub rushed to the wire grate and poked out her nose. Vivie thrust her fingers inside and stroked her fur. She met the animal’s wide, frightened eyes, her heart surging.

“You can’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice cracking. Was that a rifle behind the carrier? Would he use it to shoot the little bear?

“It’s the kindest thing I can do for her.” His low words plunged through Vivie.

She whirled, her vision blurring. “You’re nothing but a cold-blooded killer.”

His face tightened as he slammed the trunk and pulled his keys from his pocket.

“It was nice to see you again, Vivie. And believe me. I’m sorry about all of this.”

“I wish I’d never seen you again.” She collapsed against the side of her truck and watched the SUV drive away, her bear inside.

Images of the horrible deed about to unfold flashed through her mind—a nightmarish slideshow. How could she have let this happen?

She leaned her forehead against her pickup’s window.

Another crime was about to be committed, and just like last time, she was helpless to stop it.

CHAPTER THREE

L
IAM
’
S
SUV
BOUNCED
on the backwoods road, the caged cub yipping whenever they smacked along a tooth-rattling rise. The farther into the forest he drove, the dimmer it became, small animals appearing then vanishing as he rounded a bend. Birds swooped before his windshield, chasing each other from the leafed-out trees.

Under other circumstances, Liam would have enjoyed the wild beauty around him. He glanced in his rearview mirror at the animal carrier. But this mission shattered the early-evening peace, shading it in sepia tones that matched his bleak mood. He didn’t want to kill the cub. Had hoped he’d reunite it with its mother. But his time in Afghanistan and work with the DEC had taught him that life wasn’t always fair.

“You get what you put into it.” Jim’s remembered voice sounded real enough to make Liam jerk the wheel. The SUV swerved then straightened, cold sweat slicking the back of Liam’s neck. In an instant, his mind flashed back to Afghanistan and he saw his friend offering him a cigarette as they finished their outpost wall patrol.

“We’re not making it out of this,” Liam insisted. His eyes scanned desert hills that hid more insurgents than their small unit could hold off. When he grabbed the cigarette, he dropped his night-vision gear.

“Don’t lose faith, kid.” Jim patted his arm, his lips curling in a lopsided smile before he bent for the goggles.

“Have it for both of us, Jim.”

A shot rang out and Liam ducked, his heart firing as fast as the bullet.

He reached for his friend.

“Jim?”

No answer.

“Jim!” His hands came away wet, his scream swallowed by the dark night.

The bear’s bark yanked Liam back to the present and he jerked the vehicle into a wider area in the road and parked. His head dropped to the steering wheel, his breath coming hard. A dull roar filled his ears and pain burrowed deep between his eyes.

At last, heart heavy, he turned off the ignition and listened to the engine tick, then quiet. He tossed his hat onto the passenger seat and dropped his head back. How could he do this?

How could he not?

For a moment, he imagined letting the cub go. No one in the department would be the wiser. But then he pictured it unable to find food without its mother’s help, the slow torture of starving to death. Or he envisioned larger animals chasing and killing it. A much crueler way to die than a single bullet. As a former sharpshooter, he could ensure the cub didn’t suffer a moment. Since the department didn’t have the budget to euthanize animals, it was the only way to keep it from a painful, drawn-out death.

The bear rustled behind him, a scratching sound of claws on metal. He should get on with it. If the guys at work saw this, they’d hassle him. Call him out for acting like a wimp. They’d tell him to stop putting off the inevitable. For them, it seemed easy. Yet to him, it was torture.

A high-pitched bark sounded, startling Liam from his thoughts. The cub’s stress was escalating. Delaying this did no one any good. His hands slipped on the door handle before he pushed it down. A clammy sensation crawled along his skin as he trudged to the back of the SUV and threw open the back door.

Killer.
Vivie’s accusation whispered in his ear. He jerked, as if she were beside him. No denying her anger was genuine. Justified? No. She didn’t understand. Had unreasonable expectations that would end badly—the cub would likely fail to thrive at her inexperienced hands, and she or the cub could suffer a serious, even fatal, injury if it was mishandled. He shook his head. Better to face the worst now instead of later.

The small cub’s eyes met his through the bars. It was spooked. Had a right to be, he thought, as he hefted the carrier and a length of rope. He forced his leaden legs to carry him to a large maple, its trunk thick enough to secure the bear. He looped the restraint over its head then tied it to the base of the tree.

An image of the mother bear hanging from a similar maple flashed in his mind. Vivie’s comparison of Liam to the poachers had struck a chord, but he acted within the law, while they broke it. Their illegal actions had started this and now he had the horrible, despicable task of finishing it.

Why did it have to be like this?

“Because that’s life,” a voice—his, this time—whispered.

“Sorry, little girl,” he muttered when he headed back for his rifle, the empty pet carrier in hand. He shoved the crate inside and grabbed his gun, his lungs sluggish in his tight chest. He did not want to do this. Would trade places with anyone in the world not to...but that was the coward’s way. Passing off painful jobs because you couldn’t carry out your duty.

The weight of it crushed his chest. Would helping Vivie with her crazy plan be harder than this? Could he build an enclosure after persuading a rehabilitator to take the bear for a week? It might work, though he’d be tying himself to Vivie as her supervisor until they released the bear in the fall or found a home for it. If the cub’s jaw didn’t heal, an animal reserve was the only option. Waiting lists for one were long, if a spot opened up at all. In the end, he and the bear could find themselves in this spot again.

He sighed, air leaving him in a long stream. The plan was improbable when he imagined all that could go wrong.

He slipped a single round into the rifle and snapped it closed. The forest seemed to hold its breath, the only noise coming from the bear—a low, keening wail.

The weapon hung by his side, seeming to weigh a ton. Vivie had fought hard for the bear. Had stayed at the clinic all day and studied up on big-game care. Her devotion was clear. Would it wane when the daily chores turned tedious? Was she one of those people who got caught up in the fantasy, then lost interest in the reality?

He thought of her deaf Labrador and half-blind cat. She seemed attracted to high-needs animals. Was her dedication strong enough to take on this life?

He shook his head, raised his weapon and sighted the small animal through his scope. Too many uncertainties...

* * *

“M
R
. G
OWETTE
,” V
IVIE
called to her departing customer, holding up a water glass. “You forgot your teeth.”

The diner’s door swung shut behind the hunched mechanic and Vivie slumped against the counter. “Again.” She sighed, fished out the dentures with a fork, dropped them in a to-go container and placed them on the shelf beneath the cash register. He’d be back. Had probably done it on purpose to get away from his wife—a notorious faultfinder with a voice that peeled paint.

She glanced at the cat clock hanging above the rear shelves, its black-and-white striped tail swinging in time with its eyes. Eight o’clock. The cub...

A warm arm wrapped around her and pulled her close. “Hey. It’s going to be okay, sweetie.”

Maggie’s topaz eyes smiled into hers.

“No. It’s not.” Vivie’s throat closed tight after the last word and tears threatened. She grabbed a dishrag from the bucket of cleaning solution and wiped the yellow-and-gold-speckled counter.

Maggie’s hand dropped over hers. “You already cleaned that.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Maggie.”

“You’re trying to stay busy. And I get it. I’m so sorry about the cub.”

Vivie ached, thinking about the orphaned bear, dead, alone in the woods, no one to care. No one but her.

“I could have given her a home.” She automatically reached behind her when their laconic short order cook, Rowdy, dinged the “food’s up” bell.

“Who’s got the chef’s salad, no meat, no cheese, no dressing?” Vivie called. A large man wearing camouflage shorts and a white tank raised his hand. “Double-bacon cheeseburger and loaded fries?” A small woman, her gray hair purple under the fluorescent lights, waved her handkerchief from down the counter.

“Right.” She bustled off to one of their chrome-edged tables, the top matching the diner’s counters. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else on this, Pete?”

The logger shook his head, his long earlobes shaking beneath buzzed brown hair. “Watching my weight. Wife and I are renewing our vows next month, and I want to get into my old tux.”

“One Heart Attack.” Maggie presented their burger special with a flourish. “Will you be having anything else, Sister Mary?” she asked the retired nun, a twinkle in her eye.

“If you’ve got any raisin pie left, I’d have a slice of that.”

“One Ministroke, coming up,” Maggie called cheerfully. “I think you got the last slice.”

“Good. Can’t imagine a better way to meet my maker,” the elderly woman joked, lifting a burger bigger than her face and taking an enormous bite.
No worries with dentures there
, mused Vivie.

She headed back to the counter, grabbing dirty plates off tables as she went. Since the loggers had come and gone, and she’d wanted Maggie to herself, they’d let the waitstaff go after the evening rush had ended.

Brett, Rowdy’s nephew, pushed through the double wooden doors from the kitchen, an empty plastic bin on his hip. “I’ll take those, Miss Harris,” he said softly, his usual lisp barely audible.

She handed over the dishes and joined Maggie at the counter, grabbing a salt container and refilling the shakers.

“Why don’t you go home?” Maggie offered. “I don’t mind staying and Brett can wait tables if we get busy.” She untied a scarf from her bright red hair and shook the curling mass loose.

Vivie contemplated the cozy diner, the yellow tables, the floral-patterned wallpaper covered with vintage local pictures, the spider plants that hung at each window. This felt like home—as much so as her real one. And going back meant facing the empty pantry and thoughts of the cub’s fate. No. She wasn’t ready for that. The extra food and water she’d left out for Scooter and Jinx would do.

“Life isn’t fair, is it, Sister Mary?” She sidled down the counter and passed the woman a jar of hot sauce, anticipating her customer’s usual request.

“Nope. And then you die,” drawled the woman, who nodded her thanks before dumping a quarter of the bottle’s contents over her fries.

Vivie shivered, imagining the bear.

“You want me to start tomorrow’s goulash, Maggie?” Rowdy rested his elbows on the stainless-steel surface in the cutout between the kitchen and the restaurant, his white tank top sticking to his damp chest.

“Might as well.” Maggie rolled cutlery into paper napkins and wound a self-stick wrapper around it, making a pile on the counter beside her. Vivie caught her sideways glance. “I’ll be back to help in a few minutes.”

“Suit yourself.” Rowdy disappeared into his domain and Vivie joined Maggie, grabbing a fork, knife and spoon to help out.

“The cub’s in a better place, now. Not suffering.” Maggie patted Vivie’s hand before grabbing more utensils.

Vivie’s fingers fumbled, the wrapper sliding off the napkin. “She would have been better off with me than dead.”

Melodic whistling rose from the kitchen, a heavy metal tune turned into elevator music on Rowdy’s lips. Brett hustled back into the kitchen, his dish container half-full.

“The cub would have grown into a full-sized bear. You never could have cared for something that big.”

“I would have tried.”

“You did everything you could, Vivie. You always do. Don’t torture yourself.”

“I know,” she said, though she didn’t believe it. Not deep down. There must have been something else she could have done. Words that might have convinced the stubborn officer. It’d been a long time since she’d felt so helpless—her life out of her control. She’d thought she’d never have that desperate feeling again after making a secure home and career for herself.

“Officer Walsh sounds like a terrible person.” Maggie’s smile drooped a little, the closest her upbeat friend came to a frown.

“He—” Vivie dropped the napkin she’d just rolled as the bell above their glass door jingled and the man himself strode in. What was he doing here? Did he honestly think she’d put out the welcome mat? Of all the arrogant, egotistical...

He doffed his hat and smiled. “Good evening, ladies.”

Vivie flicked her eyes at Maggie. Given her friend’s soft gasp, she’d been right to think the officer was her type.

“What are you doing here, Officer Walsh?” she ground out. Maggie gawked at her, then at the man nonchalantly seating himself at the counter.
Her
counter! Now she regretted wiping it. If she could give him salmonella, she would; it’d be worth the lawsuit.

“Call me Liam. I came for a piece of your raisin pie,” he said lightly, his face relaxed, green eyes unnervingly guilt-free. Did the man have no remorse? No soul?

“Claimed it!” called Sister Mary, waving a dripping french fry.

The whistling in the kitchen stopped and Rowdy pushed through the kitchen door. He stopped beside Vivie and glowered at their latest customer. Brett was right behind his uncle, a similar expression on his face. No welcome for the man she’d been complaining about this past hour.

“What’s he doing here?” mumbled Rowdy, the flick of his braid over his shoulder as agitated a move as she’d ever seen him make.

“Wants pie,” put in Pete. He held up his empty salad bowl. “I’ll have a piece of the apple with some ice cream after all, if you’ve got it.”

“That’s the spirit, Pete!” the sister called, her mouth full of burger. “Your wife didn’t marry you for your looks, anyway.”

An appalled silence fell. Then Maggie’s pixie laugh rang out and the others joined in, Pete the loudest. Only Vivie and Officer Walsh remained silent, eying each other.

“Guess not,” Pete sputtered, still chuckling. “Better make that two scoops, Maggie.”

“Coming up.” She pulled a couple of pie tins from the glass case on the counter and slid pieces onto plates. She passed the apple to Rowdy. “Would you make that à la mode?”

“Sure.” After eyeballing Officer Walsh, their cook headed back into the kitchen.

Maggie squirted whipped cream beside the raisin pie and delivered it to Sister Mary.