Chapter Twelve
Luke finished vaccinating a sixteen-week-old calico kitten named Patchwork. He told the owner, Ms. Fitzpatrick, the head librarian at their tiny island library, “That’s the last set of shots. She’s good to go for now. You’ll want to bring her back at six months to get her spayed, unless you’re planning on kittens.”
“I don’t think I could handle kittens in the plural,” the woman, stick-thin with short-cropped gray hair, said wryly. “I’ll make that appointment before I leave. By the way, we’re starting a spring story hour for preschoolers. I’m emailing a notice this afternoon. Your boys might be interested.”
“If the reader could make Brandon sit still long enough to listen, it would be a miracle. But we’ll give it a try. Thanks, Ms. Fitzpatrick.”
He glanced at his watch, confirming that it was almost noon. Today he was having lunch with Viola Cruickshank, who lived just down the road from the clinic. She was back from her Veterinarians Without Borders assignment in Tanzania, and they planned to catch up over soup and sandwiches.
“Luke.” It was Crystal, his assistant, at the door, her chunky body clad in the same kind of blue scrubs he wore, and her medium-brown hair in its usual stubby ponytail. In a calm voice, she said, “We have an emergency. A rabbit that was hit by a car.”
“We’re just finished here,” he told her. “But would you please call Viola and tell her I’ve been delayed?”
Ms. Fitzpatrick cuddled her kitten, its furriness a contrast to her stark, tailored lines. “That poor creature. People should drive more carefully.”
He nodded in agreement.
“At least it wasn’t a hit-and-run,” Crystal said as the three of them walked down the hall. “The driver brought the rabbit in and she’s really distraught.”
“I hope you can save the creature’s life, Dr. Chandler,” Ms. Fitzpatrick said.
“I hope so, too.”
The waiting room was empty but for a blond-haired woman perched on the edge of a chair, huddled over a fluffy purple bundle on her lap. Her shoulders were bare but for the thin straps of a tank top, skimpy clothing for a crisp March day. No doubt she’d been wearing the sweater she’d used to wrap up the rabbit.
As Ms. Fitzpatrick slipped out the front door, Luke’s gaze fixed on the dragon tattoo on the blonde’s bare forearm, and he realized it was Miranda. He hadn’t seen her in a couple weeks, not since the night they’d gone dancing. The night that had ended early, with her pleading tiredness and avoiding his attempt at a good-night kiss.
He’d texted twice to ask if she and Ariana would like to get together with him and the boys, but each time she’d replied that she was too busy. There’d been a curtness to those texts that sent a clear signal. Either he’d done something wrong, or she’d decided she wasn’t interested in him. Maybe both. Taking her to a dance where the whole community, not to mention his mom, stepdad, and in-laws, were watching probably hadn’t been the smartest move. Or maybe she’d decided he wasn’t sexy or exciting enough. When he’d told her about how his mom and Forbes got together, perhaps Miranda had decided that a happy ending was possible for a groupie who was attracted to a band member, and she was going to hold out for that.
But now here she was, and it seemed she was the driver who’d hit a rabbit. “Miranda?”
Her head lifted and she jumped to her feet, white-faced and wide-eyed. “Luke, it’s a bunny. It leaped out in front of the car and there was no way I could stop. I swerved but I still clipped it. It was trying to run away but it couldn’t, and it was all bloody, just staring up at me.” She held out the fluffy purple bundle, with a terrified rabbit face and two long ears sticking out.
Gently he transferred the wrapped-up creature to his own arms, feeling its trembling through the wool sweater. Chattering teeth confirmed that it was afraid and in pain. He had enough clients with pet rabbits, and had treated enough injured wild ones, to be attuned to rabbit body language.
“Where’s Ariana?” he asked. “Is she in the car?” If so, he only hoped the child seat had supported her when the car braked and swerved.
“No, thank heavens.” Her body trembled as badly as the rabbit’s, and she wrapped her arms around herself like she was holding herself together. She looked fragile, vulnerable, and he felt a powerful urge to put his arms around her and offer warmth and comfort. He resisted as she went on. “Di sent me to the hardware store and she and Seal are babysitting.”
“Good. Okay, I’ll take a look at this little guy. Or gal. Crystal, can you find something warmer for Miranda? Long-sleeved scrubs, or there’s an old flannel shirt in my office.”
“I have a nice cozy cardigan,” his always-efficient assistant said.
“Luke, can I come in with you?” Miranda asked.
A good idea. He could keep an eye on her, since she was exhibiting symptoms of shock. “Once you put that sweater on.” He smiled at Crystal. “Thanks for that. I’ll call you if I need you.”
Then he hurried into the examination room where he washed his hands, put on gloves, and carefully unwrapped the sweater from around the rabbit.
Miranda slipped into the room, draped in a heavy grayish-brown cardigan that was about six sizes too big for her. Her skin looked, if such a thing was possible, even paler than before, her eyes seemed unfocused, and she was still shaking.
“You were wearing a seat belt?” he asked.
“Y-yes.”
“The airbag didn’t deploy? You didn’t hit your head?”
“No, I’m f-fine. It’s the . . . the bunny.”
Reassured that she wasn’t concussed, he said, “Sit down and drop your head between your knees. Leave it there until you stop feeling cold and shaky.”
“What?” She sounded dazed.
“You’re suffering from shock. Don’t want you passing out on me.”
Silently she obeyed.
He began his examination of the rabbit, and after a few minutes she came to stand beside him. A quick glance told him she no longer seemed to be in danger of keeling over, and she didn’t seem nauseous at the sight of all the blood. So he ignored her and carried on.
Finally he said, “We’re in luck. This little guy—he’s a boy—is going to make it. He’s got a broken leg and some nasty lacerations, but I don’t think he’s suffered any internal injuries. I’ll have to set the leg and put a cast on, and stitch up the cuts. Would you mind going out and telling Crystal I need her to assist?”
“Could I do it?” she asked in a small voice.
It would go quicker with Crystal, but he could see this was important to Miranda. “Sure. Wash up and put on a pair of gloves. Then I’ll need you to hold down Junior, gently but firmly, until I get him sedated. Avoid getting too close to his mouth. He’s scared and hurting and might bite you.”
She obeyed, and then as she held the rabbit, Luke readied his supplies.
He put the rabbit to sleep with a low dose of sedative, not telling Miranda that rabbits were more sensitive, and responded less predictably, to sedatives than dogs and cats. Monitoring the creature carefully, he went to work on the leg, occasionally asking Miranda to hand him something or hold something for him.
She was quiet beside him, not interrupting to ask questions and, when he darted an occasional glance at her face, she looked intent rather than upset.
When the leg had been cast, he went to work on the cuts, gently moving the rabbit a couple of times to reach everything. It wasn’t long before all the gashes had been cleaned thoroughly, treated with antibiotic ointment, sutured as needed, and dressed.
“What happens now?” Miranda asked. “He can’t go back out in nature.”
“We’ll keep him here. Monitor his progress, make sure he gets proper nutrition and exercise until he’s ready to return home. Where did this happen, Miranda? I’d like to take him back to where you, uh, found him.”
“Hit him,” she said flatly, staring at the unconscious rabbit as it lay on the table. “Don’t gloss over it. It was across from the llama farm. I feel terrible, Luke. I do watch out for rabbits and squirrels and deer, because they’re always darting onto the road. I wasn’t speeding, I swear.”
“Hey.” He waited until she looked up at him. “I believe you. Sometimes there’s no avoiding it. I’m just glad you didn’t go off the road, and glad Ariana wasn’t with you. And also that you stopped and rescued this little guy and brought him here.”
“Of course I would.” Her eyes widened in surprise. “I couldn’t leave him lying there.”
A lot of people would have. He was really glad she wasn’t one of them.
The rabbit was stirring, coming out from the anesthetic. “He’s not going to be happy when he discovers he won’t be able to hop for a while,” Luke said.
“Poor bunny. But he will be able to, won’t he? After he heals? He won’t be crippled and more vulnerable to predators?”
“No, he should be as good as new.”
He should call Crystal and have her take the rabbit to a recovery cage and keep an eye on it. He’d have to phone Viola to apologize and reschedule lunch. And he needed to grab a snack from the clinic’s fridge, because the first afternoon patient would arrive any minute.
But here was Miranda, in this small room with him, looking so damned appealing in that huge, dirt-colored sweater, her blue eyes full of concern for the injured rabbit. He couldn’t let her go before asking for clarification. “I got the feeling from your texts that you don’t want to go out with me again. Is that true?”
She ducked her head, looking young and vulnerable. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” She’d seemed to be having a good time, dancing with him. Then he’d gone to get drinks, and when he brought them back to the table, she’d said she was tired and wanted to leave. It didn’t make sense. Except . . . An image formed in his mind and he remembered she’d been talking to his mother and mother-in-law. Girl talk, supposedly. “Did Mom or Annie say something?”
“They . . . they just care about you and the boys.” Her shoulders shrugged. “They want to make sure you’re happy.”
That didn’t give them the right to judge Miranda, or try to scare her off. Damn it, his relatives were reasonable, caring people and he’d trusted them to be polite. No, more than that, to be nice to his friend, to make her feel welcome. “I’m really sorry,” he said grimly. “And, for the record, being with you made me happy.” Surely his mom and mother-in-law had seen that. “Didn’t it make you happy?”
Slowly she looked up at him. The dingy cardigan made her faded-denim eyes look even bluer. “Happy? There’s that word again.”
He had no clue what she meant. “You didn’t like being with me?”
“I did, Luke. I really did.”
And that didn’t translate, in her mind, to happiness? It must be a woman thing. He was more proficient in reading rabbit body language than in understanding the female brain. Rather than ask her to explain some esoteric distinction he likely wouldn’t grasp anyhow, he got to the point. “Then go out with me again. See if you like it.”
Her lips curved at the corners. “Is it really that easy?”
“Why shouldn’t it be? Don’t let Mom and Annie get to you. They were out of line and I’m damned well going to tell them.”
“No!” Her smile vanished. “Please don’t. That’ll only reflect badly on me.”
He frowned, not understanding.
She pulled off Crystal’s sweater. “I need to get back to SkySong.”
“Okay, but will you go out with me again? Me and the kids, or just me. Whatever you want.”
“I . . . I’ll think about it.” She cast a glance at the now-restless rabbit, which he was gently restraining with both hands. Her gaze lingered, and then she sighed and turned on heel. “I’ll pay the bill for the bunny’s treatment on my way out.”
“No, Miranda, there’s no need to—”
But she was gone, closing the door to the examining room behind her. He sighed and buzzed Crystal, telling her to give Miranda a discounted rate but not let on that she was doing it. He’d have happily done the work for free, but he guessed that would annoy Miranda, with her stubborn pride.
* * *
This, Miranda thought, was exactly what she needed. A playdate. A couple of hours with a nice woman her own age, sipping lattés and eating Glory’s orange-almond biscotti and the chocolate chip cookies Miranda had brought. Their two black-haired girls happily chattered and screeched over Monster Bowling on the playroom floor at Glory’s house. The children seemed to have bonded, and Miranda hoped the same would happen with her and the petite Chinese Canadian woman sitting beside her at the bar-stooled island that faced into the playroom.
It was a day off for both of them, this Monday, a few days after Miranda had taken the injured bunny to the vet clinic. Although she’d checked a couple of times on the rabbit’s progress, she had yet to give Luke a “yes” or “no” on going out with him again. Maybe this morning’s coffee chat would help her come up with the right answer.
But it was too soon to dump her man problems on Glory, so instead she focused on the girls. “I never thought of trying this game out on Ariana. I’m not much of a bowler.”
Glory made a face, her fine features scrunching up, which, combined with her short cap of black hair, made her look even more pixie-like. “I’m pathetic at bowling myself, though Brent loves it. But this game’s fun.”
“I’m not sure Ariana grasps the concept of bowling, but she loves whacking down the monsters.” Not that the term really applied to the brightly colored plush toys, which were anything but scary.
Glory laughed. “Same with Gala. It’s driving Brent nuts. He’s all about, ‘You have to use the ball to knock them over,’ and Gala’s just as happy to use one monster to bash another. She’s either a slow learner or a rule breaker. Or has violent tendencies.” She frowned. “None of which is good.”
“You’re not seriously worried, are you?” Miranda had thought she was the only one who obsessed over things like this.
“Not so much, but it’s hard, right? I mean, you want your child to be everything. Healthy, happy, smart.”
Miranda nodded.
“But really, they’re just kids,” Glory said. “My parents and grandparents help me keep perspective. And so do the seniors at the lodge. Some have the greatest advice.”
“I get advice, too, from Eden’s parents and her aunt and uncle. And Kara at the store. I appreciate it, but, well, they’re all older than me. It’s really nice to talk to you, to someone my age, going through this for the first time like I am.”
Glory nodded. “I hear you. So we’ll share. Stupid worries and smart tips.”
Miranda smiled, knowing she was making a friend. “If I ever come up with a smart tip, I’ll be sure to tell you.”
The other woman put down her coffee cup and rested her chin on her hands as she stared at the children. “Do you feel like you’re being watched all the time?”
“Watched?” Miranda studied her profile. Was this seemingly normal woman maybe suffering from paranoia? “You mean, like, stalked?”
A laugh burst from Glory’s lips and when she turned to Miranda, her brown eyes gleamed. “Oh man, yeah, it is kind of like that. By everyone. Everyone in this teeny little community. They’re all watching. Waiting for you to screw up. Wondering stuff about you.”
“Stuff?”
Her mouth twisted. “Like wondering if Brent’s ever going to”—she made air quotes—“‘put a ring on it.’ And don’t you just hate that expression?”
“Oh my God, on so many levels! Like hello, feminism has happened. This isn’t the dark ages.”
“Exactly,” Glory said. “And anyhow, it’s up to each couple to decide how they want to structure their relationship, right? It’s no one else’s business.”
“It sure isn’t. Lots of couples are happy and committed but don’t believe in marriage. Like Di and Seal.”
She meant to be supportive but Glory didn’t look entirely reassured as she muttered, “That’s true.”
Miranda returned to the original subject. “Anyhow, yeah, I sure know what you mean about feeling watched. It’s impossible for me to even just start clean with most people, so they don’t have any preconceptions. You, for example. You work with Eden, you were in Aaron’s class in high school, you and I even were in school together. There’s stuff you know about me and have heard about me.” She huffed out a breath. “I’m amazed you invited me over.” Glancing at the two little ones expending their energy on plush monsters rather than in tantrums, she smiled. “Glad, but amazed.”
“Miranda, our teens are when we try things out. Figure out who we really are.” She grinned, her good mood restored. “You obviously decided that Goth wasn’t the real you.”
“No, but I haven’t exactly toed the straight and narrow either. Even after my Goth phase, I was a drifter. Fell for a bunch of guys, had a bunch of jobs. God knows, I’d probably still be doing it if Ariana hadn’t come along.”
“But she did, and you’re not, and from what I can see you’re a great mom.” Glory bit into a chocolate-chip cookie and made an approving sound. “And you’ve lived an exciting life. Whereas me, I’ve just been on this island doing same old, same old.” She shrugged. “Which actually, for me, works really well.”
“I’m not sure ‘exciting’ is the term I’d use for my life.”
“One day you can tell me stories. When you know me better and trust me.”
“I’ll do that,” Miranda agreed. She dipped a biscotti in her coffee and then savored the mixed flavors as it dissolved in her mouth.
“I heard you and Luke Chandler were dancing at the community center a couple of weeks ago,” Glory said. At Miranda’s raised brows, she added, “What can I say? Being watched, right?”
“Yeah, we were there. Along with my brother and Eden, Di and Seal, Luke’s mom, his stepdad up on stage, and his in-laws. And half the rest of the island. Not you, though. Eden says you like to dance, so I thought I might see you.”
“My parents were busy and couldn’t babysit.”
“If you ever get stuck for a sitter, let me know. Most evenings, I’m working on my computer, taking courses online. I could bring over Ariana and the computer and watch Gala. Or you could drop her off at my place.”
“That’s supersweet of you.” She cocked her head. “Dare I ask? I mean, tell me if I’m being pushy.”
“To ask me to babysit?”
“No, I mean about you and Luke.”
“Ah.” Here was an opportunity, and from what she’d seen, Glory was perceptive and not judgmental. Her perspective could be helpful. “We’ve hung out a couple of times, him with his kids and me with Ariana. And been on two dates. He seems like a nice guy.”
Glory nodded. “Everyone likes him. This woman I work with thinks he walks on water. He found this cutting-edge treatment for her sick dog and saved his life.”
“I’ve seen him work.” She told Glory about the bunny. “He was so gentle with it. He has these big hands, right? So masculine. But the confident, delicate way he treated that little creature, it was amazing.” The truth, one she wasn’t ready to share with anyone, was that, watching Luke treat that rabbit, she’d fallen a little bit in love with him. It seemed that veterinary medicine could be just as exciting and sexy as music or acting, at least when Luke was the practitioner.
“Very sexy.” Glory winked. “You have to love a man with good hands.”
“You’re so bad.” But yes, Miranda had imagined those hands exploring her body, not to heal but to arouse. “So anyhow, he asked me out again and I do like him, but I’m not sure.”
“You small-L like him or large-L like him?”
“Large,” she admitted.
“Then why wouldn’t you go out with him?” Brown eyes gleaming, she added, “And find out exactly how good those hands can be.”
Despite her concerns about dating Luke, Miranda cracked up at that comment. But then she sighed. “His mom and mother-in-law told me that he and his boys deserve another Candace. And they’re right.”
She frowned. “What does that even mean? There was only one Candace. Yeah, he loved her since forever, and it’s tragic that she died, but the fact is that she’s gone.”
“They mean someone perfect, like her.”
Glory snorted. “Okay, for one thing she wasn’t perfect.”
“No? Really? Everyone seems to think so.”
“Admittedly, she was great. But everyone has some weaknesses, some flaws.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes. “Would it be really rude to ask if you know any of Candace’s?”
Glory shrugged. “Look, I liked her a lot, okay? But she was a little too obsessed with how she looked. I get it, because her mom’s a superstrong feminist and against anything girly. Like, when Candace was little, she wasn’t allowed to wear pink. Her toys had to be gender-neutral. Once Candace had a decent allowance and was allowed to choose her own clothes and stuff, she indulged her girly side.”
“That’s kind of understandable,” Miranda said a little grudgingly. “Any other flaws?”
“This is going to sound petty, but is being too nice a flaw? She was just, well, never petty or mean. She was friendly to everyone, generous, always sunny and sweet. If she ever had PMS or was in a bad mood, she didn’t show it.” Glory wrinkled her nose. “I sound like a total bitch, don’t I?”
“No, I get it. Well, at least you won’t have that problem with me. No one’s ever accused me of being too nice. But it does make me wonder why Luke wants to date me.”
“You’re not competing, Miranda,” Glory said firmly. “You’re you. Don’t try to compare yourself to her.”
“Even if I don’t, Luke’s mom and mother-in-law will. Probably he will, too,” she added gloomily. “And believe me, I have lots of flaws.”
“Being human is good,” Glory asserted. “If you big-L like Luke, give him a chance. Give yourself a chance. See where it goes.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or are you jumping ahead, thinking about getting married and blending families?”
“God, no. No, but . . .” She sighed. “This is all so different for me. It’s the first time I’ve had a relationship where kids were involved. What if his boys don’t like me? They haven’t exactly warmed to me so far. They’ve never had a mother, but there are photos of Candace in the house and I’m sure Luke and the grandparents talk about her. The boys know she’s their mom, and they’ve had their dad to themselves. Luke hasn’t been dating, so this is new to them. I’m sure they wonder who I am and why Ariana and I are being thrust into their lives.”
“Give it time. Don’t push, just let it come naturally.”
“Ariana’s already nuts about Luke.” She studied her daughter, who was bashing one monster with another, giggling madly. “If the twins do come to like me, and then Luke and I end up breaking up”—which, let’s face it, seemed likely given her track record with guys—“what’ll it do to the three kids?”
Glory slid off her stool and topped up their cups with plain coffee. When she sat down again, she picked up a biscotti and said, “I hear you. Once you’re a mom, you always have to put the kids first.” Her dark eyes got a sad, distant expression.
Miranda remembered how Glory had said that her birth parents had abandoned her. Was that what she was thinking about now? Should Miranda say something?
Before she could decide, Glory shrugged. “Life has no guarantees. We hope for happy endings. Sometimes we get them, but sometimes we don’t. I think you probably know that better than a lot of people our age.”
“Yes.” What was the other woman saying?
“And we cope,” Glory said firmly. “We may feel awful, but we cope. You can’t . . . not live, just because you’re afraid life may hurt.” She dipped the biscotti and bit into the soggy end.
Miranda had always coped. Even last summer, when she’d hit an all-time low, she hadn’t given up. She’d swallowed her pride, admitted to being totally pathetic, and come crawling to Aaron for help. Because of Ariana. If she’d been on her own with no money for rent, Miranda would have found a couch here and there to camp on. But no way would she inflict that life on her daughter. So she’d coped in the only way she could—and as a result, her life had slowly turned around. “When it’s just me, I’ll take risks. But I don’t want Ariana to get hurt.”
“Of course you don’t.” Glory gently touched Miranda’s hand. “But here’s the thing, the really scary thing. Our daughters will get hurt. Life will hurt them. It’s inevitable. You know that.”
“I do. But I don’t want to be the instrument of that hurt.” It was the thing she’d most tried to avoid. There were times she’d subsisted on generic ramen noodle soup, but she’d always made sure Ariana had decent food. Even if she’d had to go to the food bank. Or even, once or twice, resort to tricks learned in childhood and shoplift.
“So you plan never to date, because the relationship might not work out? You’ll cut Ariana off from getting to know a great guy like Luke? You’ll nix the possibility of her ever having a father who loves her?”
“Oh God.” Miranda buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“So stop being so angsty. You like the guy, he’s one of the good ones, and he wants to date you. Go. Have fun, talk.” Her tone lightened. “See what those big hands are capable of.” She wiggled the biscotti suggestively, indicating that hands weren’t all she meant. “See where things go. If it works, that’ll be awesome for you and Ariana, and for Luke and his boys. If it doesn’t, trust in your ability to cope and your ability to help Ariana deal with it.”
“You make it sound so reasonable.” Which gave Miranda hope, and she managed a small smile. “Could you now please have the same talk with Sonia and Annie?” She added a quick “Just kidding, of course.”