Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3)
Read Snowbound Summer (The Logan Series Book 3) Online
Authors: Sally Clements
SNOWBOUND SUMMER
By
Sally Clements
By Sally Clements
Kindle
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Copyright © 2014 Sally Clements
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SNOWBOUND SUMMER.
Chapter One
In the middle of the night—when
sounds of the day have silenced, the noises that a house makes can be heard.
Floorboards creak and squeak. Pipes bang as though tapped with invisible hands.
Windows rattle at a gust of wind.
Summer Costello lay in the bed
that had been hers since childhood listening to the familiar sounds. Eight long
years ago she’d left home. Tonight was the first night back in her childhood
bed. Back in her childhood home. The experience was both familiar and strange.
She’d never expected she would be back—especially under these circumstances.
A scratching, scraping sound.
She looked toward the window. A
tendril hanging from the Boston vine that clung to the outside of the house
whipped against the window. It needed pruning. Tomorrow, she’d get out the
ladder and attend to it. That’s if the weather improved; clambering up the
ladder in a howling gale was totally out of the question.
At least the kitchen was well
stocked. She hadn’t wanted to risk bumping into anyone in the local stores, so
had done a large shop in a supermarket outside town on her way from the
airport. There seemed no point in buying a turkey and all the trimmings, surely
there could be nothing more pathetic than cooking and eating a Christmas dinner
alone, so she’d stocked up with Christmas booze, chocolates, good coffee, and
everything she’d need to cook simple meals.
Ma would be appalled to discover Summer
had spent Christmas here alone. If she told her parents the truth, they would
have cancelled their much-anticipated vacation in Spain with her brother. Would
have stayed at home or paid for Summer to join them. She’d always been their
golden girl—they’d be so disappointed in her if they knew the truth.
A high, keening sound. Summer
tilted her head to the side and listened.
Again.
She crept out of
bed and walked to the window. Pressed her ear against the cold glass and
strained to hear the faint sound through the noise of the storm. Again she
heard it—a high, frightened yowling. Some poor animal was out there.
Quickly she dressed in warm
clothes and pulled on snow boots. She stuck her arms through the parka and
padded downstairs.
When she jerked open the front
door a frigid gust of air whipped long strands of hair against her face. From
inside, she’d thought it was raining, but the ever-growing pile of small ice
bullets pushing against the front door proved her wrong.
Hail.
She
sniffed. The scent of snow was in the air.
The Costello family home was a
few miles outside town and anytime it snowed the road became quickly
impassable. Its aspect, halfway up the mountain leading out of Brookbridge,
provided breathtaking views, but the flipside made navigating the narrow roads
difficult in the snow unless you had a vehicle made for it.
The Ford Fiesta Summer hired at
the airport didn’t qualify.
The noise cut through the tempest
again.
“Where are you?” She grabbed a
flashlight from the hall table, stepped out and pulled the door closed.
The cold wind bit through her
clothing. With jerky movements, she zipped the parka to the top, and pulled the
fur-trimmed hood over her head. She played the beam of the flashlight out into
the darkness, then back against the shelter of the house’s walls, searching for
the animal.
She’d dipped her chin down, but
cold beads of hail struck Summer’s face again and again stinging her forehead
and cheeks as she circled the house. “Where the hell are you?” she muttered
under her breath.
The cry again.
Summer’s head jerked to the
right, following the noise, finally homing in on the animal’s location. The
door to the woodshed was closed, but upon further examination, her flashlight
revealed a hole at the bottom—a hole big enough…
She shot the bolt and stepped
inside.
“It’s okay.” Her gaze tracked the
beam to the wood stacked neatly at the back of the shed. To the piles of larger
rings, yet to be cut, that littered the dirty cobbled floor. She played the
light to the left. A pair of glowing eyes reflected in the darkness.
A dog.
Its breed was indeterminate in
the darkness, but it was a large breed. Not skinny like a Lurcher, or
powerfully built like a Doberman or Rottweiler, the dog was more like a wolf.
Perhaps an Alsatian.
It lay on its side, its chest
rising and falling rapidly. Its back leg was at an unnatural angle, and the
light picked out a glistening black spot at the top of the leg.
“It’s okay.” She crouched to make
herself appear less threatening and took a step forward.
The dog bared its teeth, and a
deep growl issued from its throat.
*****
It was warm and snug in Nick Logan’s hermetically-sealed
apartment. He drained his coffee cup, stacked it in the dishwasher, and groaned
at the sight outside the window. As usual, the weather forecasters had got it
wrong. They’d foreseen the storm, but hadn’t said anything about snow.
And snow there was. Inches of it.
The creak and snap of the metal
letterbox, and then a flurry of mail hit the mat inside the door. Nick walked
over and picked it up. Junk mail, junk mail, bill, junk mail, bill, postcard.
He tossed all the items except the postcard onto the hall table.
A large black bull. With a grin,
Nick flipped the card over.
Are you sure you won’t change
your mind? They’re here and driving me crazy!
A scrawled D concluded the note
from his best friend, Declan Costello. He’d been vaguely tempted by the offer
of flying out to spend Christmas in Declan’s new pad in Andalucía—who wouldn’t
be? After working all through the holiday last year, it was his partner in the
practice’s turn to be on call this year, so he had a week off—starting
tomorrow. But the thought of playing happy families with Declan’s parents for
the week had cemented Nick’s decision to defer it.
Two weeks in July. That’s when he’d
go. Declan had been in Spain for four months, and his job contract was for a
year—there was plenty of time to take Declan up on his offer.
Nick grabbed the Land Rover keys
off the table, picked up his coat, and left the house.
Traffic was light in Brookbridge,
partly because it was early, but also because of the snow. The roads were
covered; the council hadn’t salted them yesterday, so conditions were
treacherous. He pulled up outside Brookbridge Veterinary and parked.
The building was in darkness. As
usual, he was the first one in. The practice didn’t open for an hour, he’d have
time to go through the paperwork and prepare for the day. He and his partner
Sean were the principal vets in the practice and they employed another two vets
and three veterinary nurses. Evie the receptionist rounded out the team.
Nick put on the coffee
machine—they always complained about the strength of his coffee, but drank it
anyway—and walked to Evie’s desk to scan the appointment book. Two
operations—easy ones, a cat to be spayed and a dog to be neutered. Various
smaller procedures.
He rotated the appointment book
back into place and straightened.
The phone rang.
He glanced up at the clock.
No-one would be expecting the office to be manned at this time in the
morning—he should let the answering machine get it—but something made Nick
snatch up the receiver. “Brookbridge Veterinary.”
“Oh, thank goodness you answered,”
a flustered female voice said. “I really need your help.”
“We’re not actually open for
another hour—”
“I understand, but I really need
your help. I’ve been out all night with an injured dog—I can’t get him inside,
and he’s so cold.”
“What happened?” Nick picked up a
pen and ripped a page off Evie’s notebook. “Are we his vet?” Her voice sounded
vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
“I don’t know who his vet is. I
doubt he even has one. He’s not my dog.” She spoke quickly. “Look, I just didn’t
know who to call. I haven’t lived here in years. He must be a stray, or have
been dumped. His ribs are sticking out, and he has a frayed rope around his
neck—maybe he was tied up and escaped or something. I didn’t want to call the
ISPCA… His leg is hurt and he can’t walk…”
“Okay.” Every animal, no matter
the circumstances, deserved a chance. Nick made a snap decision. “I’ll come
out. What’s your address?”
“It’s sort of complicated.”
He jotted notes as she explained
the route out of town, mentally cataloguing all the houses. A lifetime in Brookbridge
meant he knew practically everyone and had visited most of the houses in the
immediate area for one reason or another.
“So you turn left, drive two
miles, and the house is on the left…”
He’d stopped writing a few
minutes ago. Had sat in Evie’s chair and marveled at the fact that he’d somehow
not recognized her voice instantly.
“Hello, Summer.”
*****
Summer blinked. “Who is this?”
The man on the other end of the
phone cleared his throat. “Ah, this is Nick Logan. Declan’s friend.”
Nick Logan. She closed her eyes
tight. Of course. Declan had said something about Nick training to become a
vet, but she’d forgotten. She’d presumed he would have left the small Irish
town when he qualified, that he would have struck out for a new town, or
another country—not only would there be more opportunities for a vet in other
places, but somewhere else would also be more exciting, more interesting.
Before she’d even left school, she was planning to study overseas and exploit
all the opportunities the big, wide world had to offer.
A brief memory of her younger
brother’s best friend flashed into her mind’s eye. Nick Logan, seventeen,
dressed in board shorts and lounging around in this very house’s back garden,
one hot, long ago summer. At twenty, he’d been here at this very house at her
sendoff party.
“Nick. Wow, I haven’t seen you in
years.”
“Three,” he said quickly. “Declan
and I came over to London for the opening of
Summer’s Kitchen.
”
Her pride and joy. The
culmination of all her dreams. That night, her future stretched ahead full of
wonderful possibilities. Michael had asked to move in with her that night, and
with her friends and family around her it had been the best evening of her
life.
She’d forgotten that Nick had
also attended.
“Time flies.”
Dreams die.
“So
you’re the vet now.” She mentally face palmed at the obviousness of her words.
Duh,
yes…
but she just kept talking, making it worse. “I mean, obviously you’re
the vet, um…”
She rubbed the back of her neck. She’d
been determined not to meet anyone she knew in Brookbridge. Not to even confess
that she’d spent Christmas in her parents’ home alone until she felt strong
enough to fasten the mask she always wore back in place. Nick must be wondering
about her being in Ireland—he must know her parents were in Spain—she should
say something.
He beat her to it. “I want you to
explain this dog’s injuries to me in as much detail as you can.” His voice was
impersonal and matter-of-fact. “Your road is always terrible in the snow, but I
have a Land Rover, so I’ll make it. I want to be ready for anything.”
He’d cut through her waffle like
a chef with a Sabatier.
Summer took a deep breath, and
gathered her thoughts. “I think his back leg is broken, I can’t get close
enough to check, but it’s at an odd angle, and there’s a big cut with blood at
the top of his leg. He’s pretty wild. When I approached him last night he bared
his teeth and growled at me. He’s obviously frightened. I gave him a steak and
he devoured it. After that, he stopped growling, but he wouldn’t let me nearer.
You should bring a tranquillizer.” The dog was obviously frightened and
traumatized. It was more than likely that the only option would be to put him
down—an aggressive dog didn’t have many options.
Any of the farms nearby would
have shot the dog on sight.
“He may be beyond saving,” she
said. “But I can’t just leave him out there. I have to give him a chance. Um…” Summer
hesitated for a moment, then decided she had no option but to make the request.
“I hate to ask, but could you bring some dog food with you?”
“Of course,” Nick said. “Do you
want me to bring you anything else? This weather is setting in—firelighters,
milk, bread?”
She’d loaded up with most things
but… “Firelighters and matches would be good. And I guess extra bread could be
useful. I’m fairly well stocked, apart from those.”
“Okay. I need to brief my
colleagues here, so it’ll be an hour or so before I make it out there.” Brief,
to the point, and efficient.
“That sounds great. Thanks, Nick.”
She hung up. It had been one hell
of a night. The dog had been unable to make it across the floor to where she
crouched, but she had no doubt if he could, he would have attacked her. Maybe
she was crazy even trying to save this dog.