“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, sweetheart. Your mom was just saying to me that she’d had you on her mind all day long so we decided to call.”
She had no idea how her parents were able to do that. Somehow, across the miles, even when she’d been on the other side of the world, they always seemed to know when she was upset or worried. “As usual, Mom is right.”
“Oh, dear, that sounds like a story. Hang on, let me put you on speaker since your mom’s right here.”
Her father had been a veterinarian in the rural mountains of Virginia for many years. Knowing her parents would understand, she started at the beginning of her day and talked all the way through the events. Neither offered empty platitudes nor did they trash Tom even though they were both irritated that he hadn’t given her more warning. By the end of the conversation, she felt better. Somehow, simply unburdening herself made her feel more in control. Her parents’ knowledge of the business was invaluable.
“Have you thought about a name for your clinic?” her mother asked.
“My staff and I bounced around a couple of ideas this afternoon when we were tired of thinking of everything else. I suppose Collins’ Veterinary Clinic would work.”
“That’s kind of boring, don’t you think?”
Laughing, she leaned over and rubbed Frodo’s ears. “I guess it is. I really haven’t had time to think about it.”
“Well, it might seem silly in light of everything else you have to deal with, but I’d give it some thought. After all, it’s going to be on your sign, your shirts, your logo, your business. Go with something fun!”
“I’ll sleep on it, and we’ll see what I come up with,” she promised. “Thanks for calling, Mom and Dad. I really needed this.”
She fixed a sandwich and grabbed chips and a beer, taking her dinner down to the beach with Frodo bounding along beside her. Smiling, she watched him move along, his nose to the ground, inspecting the area. “Any new smells since last night, boy?”
He looked up, his soulful eyes on her sandwich, and she laughed. “Hey, you had your dinner.”
She sat on the sand and watched the sunset as she munched her dinner and finished her beer. A breeze blew over, lifting her spirits, and she sucked in a deep breath of salt air. Laying back, she watched the clouds catch the orange streaks of setting sunlight. After several minutes, Frodo came over, and she noticed a slight limp. Sitting up, she grabbed his paw, rubbing her fingers around his pads, finding a little sand burr. She pulled it out and rubbed his head. “That’s the story of my life. Taking care of paws.” Thinking of her larger animal clients, she laughed. “Well, hoofs and paws.”
4
Two Months Later
Samantha’s phone rang, jolting her awake. She rolled over, her gaze landing on the time just as she connected the call. Six thirty. It wouldn’t seem that early except she’d been up into the wee hours of the night with an emergency surgery when someone’s beloved pet was hit by the family car. Now, with only three hours of sleep, she answered her phone with more of a yawn than a greeting.
“‘Lo, Sam Collins.”
“Sam, I’m so sorry to call this early in the morning. It’s Lizzie. Lizzie Weston.”
Samantha held the phone with one hand and rubbed her bleary eyes with the other. “Lizzie, what’s wrong?”
“I had a couple of goats get out of their pen and into the pasture. I don’t know what’s happened, but… but… oh, Sam… they’re dead!”
Lizzie’s words had the effect of cold water dousing her, and she tossed off the covers, trying not to step on Frodo as she headed into her bathroom. “Don’t touch anything, and I’ll be right out. Give me about twenty minutes to get there.”
Disconnecting, she blinked a few more times as she stared into the mirror. Her dark brown hair stuck out in a sleep-messy nest around her head. She sighed, dragging a brush through the tresses, taming it into a ponytail. She had neither thick, curly hair nor straight, sleek hair. It wasn’t luxurious or filled with red or blonde highlights. It was just brown. Plain brown. Wavy enough to stick out around her face when she perspired but otherwise totally unremarkable.
Leaning forward, she caught sight of the row of freckles across her cheeks. The similarity to the cover image of a childhood book she used to read, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, struck her. The freckles were cute when she was a child but irritating as an adult. Especially an adult that looked much younger than she was. God, I need more sleep!
Shaking her head to dislodge the ridiculous early-morning musings, she splashed water on her face and grabbed her tub of moisturizer. She never worried with makeup but as much as she was outside knew that moisturizer and sunscreen were essential. Quickly finishing in the bathroom, she dressed in a pair of jeans, a worn T-shirt with her clinic logo, and a light jacket. Pulling on thick cotton socks, she looked down at Frodo sleeping.
“Damn, boy, I hate making you go out into your pen, but I have no idea how long I’m going to be gone.” He groaned as he stood, and she grabbed some food before jamming her feet into her thick rubber boots and heading outside to secure him inside his pen. “If I can get away early today, I will.” The past two months without Tom hadn’t been easy, but she was getting used to long days and little sleep.
It took a few tries for her old truck to start, but it finally rumbled to life. There was sparse traffic on the Eastern Shore, and she made it quickly to the Weston Farm as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon.
Lizzie’s grandparents had owned the farm, and when Samantha had first come to the Eastern Shore, she met Beau Weston. His granddaughter, Lizzie, had convinced him that goats and alpacas would be money makers for them, and he indulged her whim. A whim that turned out to be right. Lizzie received the necessary permits for the alpacas, and even though Beau was now gone, she was running Weston farms with great ideas for her goat’s milk soap and lotions, hair sales from alpaca shearings, and animal petting days.
Pulling off the road, she drove under the Weston Farms sign and followed the gravel drive past the large, beautiful, white farmhouse around toward the barn and pastures. Scott Redding, Lizzie’s boyfriend, was standing outside waiting for her as were the County Sheriff, Colt Hudson, and three deputies. What the hell is the sheriff doing here? Glancing to the side, she also saw several of their friends offering support to a distraught Lizzie.
She turned off the truck engine but it continued to sputter and chug until it finally quit. She could see Colt shaking his head, staring at her, and had no doubt he was thinking she needed to get a new vehicle. In fact, as she looked at all of the faces standing there, she could see the same expression. “They can bite me,” she grumbled to herself as she got out of her truck, trying to shake off the fatigue that was her constant companion. It seemed like all her money was going right back into the vet business, and considering she worked all the time, she had no idea when she’d be able to buy a new vehicle… even if she was willing to give the old one up.
Rounding the front of the truck, her gaze shot out to the pasture where she could see the animals lying on the ground. She jerked around and observed Lizzie’s tearful face, her heart going out to her. “Oh, fuck, Lizzie. I’m so sorry.”