Tennessee Vet. Carolyn McSparren
me when he ran a light. He, by the way, had three DUIs pending already. They used the Jaws of Life and several miracles to get me as far as the trauma center at the Med Hospital Trauma Center. Very much the way we got our eagle disentangled from my grille. I spent the next year getting operated on, going through rehab, getting operated on some more, more rehab, lots of titanium pins in my bones, skin grafts, yada, yada, yada. In the end, I kept my bionic leg and knee, and I’m down to a cane after a wheelchair and a walker. But I still limp, more when I’m tired.”
“And you hurt.”
He nodded. “They say that more exercises like walking and swimming will help diminish the pain. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
“Good luck with finding a public swimming pool this side of Jackson. Even this late in September, it’s still warm enough to take a dip in the little lake where Seth and Emma have their cabin, but not for much longer. And if you walk on our road out there—” she pointed toward the front of the clinic “—watch out for crazy drivers, and the occasional deer in your face.”
“Boy, are you Miss Comfort!”
“Just sayin’. I have nothing to offer you for dessert,” she said.
He took a final swig of his beer. “That was wonderful. I can make it to morning without hunger pangs.”
“I can front you breakfast stuff—eggs, bacon, bread for toast, even coffee.”
“Not necessary. Emma is taking me to Williamston so that she can introduce me to the denizens of the café. I feel as though I’m being presented at court.”
“Around here, you’re pretty much right. What are you planning to do about your poor car?”
“Call my mechanical genius in Memphis to come get it and try to locate a grille for it. In the meantime, I’ll have to rent a car. I assume there is some place to do that in town?”
Barbara waggled a hand. “If you’re lucky, our esteemed mayor, Sonny Prather, will rent you a baby truck. I assume you can’t borrow one from your wife. Obviously, her SUV didn’t survive your accident.”
He caught his breath. “Slight miscommunication. Nina, my wife, died several years ago of cancer. The night of my accident I was driving her SUV because the Triumph was in the shop. It often is. I just kept her old car as a backup for me and my daughters to use in case one of our cars was out of commission. I decided to drive my Triumph up here today instead of the sedan I bought to replace the SUV. At the moment, my younger daughter, Anne, is driving that while her car is being worked on.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, I am so sorry! I thought your wife was in Memphis.”
He reached out and laid his hand on her other arm. “Don’t be. You had no way of knowing from the way I talked. Took me a couple of years to be able even to say ‘cancer.’ Now, I think I’ve turned that last year into a kind of myth. It’s as though every time I mention it I add one more layer of scar tissue I can use to protect myself.”
“I know exactly what you mean. John—my vet partner in the clinic as well as my husband and the father of our two children—died several years ago. One of those young heart attacks, unsuspected and nearly always fatal. I felt as though someone had turned off the sun like flipping a light switch. The only thing that saved me was that I had to take over the clinic alone to support the family or starve. I had good friends who helped keep me sane. Apparently, I did a decent job, but I have almost no recollection of the first two years after John’s death. The children helped. I have a son and a daughter, Mark and Caitlyn. Those are their pictures on the mantelpiece. Suddenly, I was the sole support of the family.”
“Must have been tough. I managed to act sane until my accident, then I was doped up until I was aware enough to refuse anymore opioids, and being rehabilitated—a synonym for attempted murder. Anyway, I’ve been planning to buy a new car. This may be a good time to go ahead and do it. Let’s face it, the Triumph is my toy, but it’s not practical. I had to have the entire transmission replaced with an automatic so I could drive it safely with one completely functional foot and leg. I’ve about made up my mind to buy a small truck, except I have no idea what to buy or where to buy it.”
“You are deep in the land of the pickup. After breakfast, get Emma to take you shopping and introduce you around. Tomorrow is not one of her days doing receptionist duty here, so she’ll be free.”
“I can’t drag Emma around, the shape she’s in.”
“Don’t tell her that. Now, how about we see if you can drive your car to your house. I’ll follow you.”
“You don’t have to do that. It’s only a couple of miles. If I get stuck on the side of the road I can walk home.”
“This is the country. You do not want to be walking down this road in the middle of the night or you’ll be the one stuck on somebody’s grille.”
“Let me at least help you clean up the dishes.”
“That’s what God gave us dishwashers for.”
“May I check on our patient before we leave?”
Barbara sighed. “I’d rather check him myself after I come back from following you home. I want him kept as quiet as possible. Hey—my clinic, my rules.”
Stephen drew himself up but did not actually protest. He was not used to being questioned about his decisions. No doubt she knew her business, but she hadn’t a clue how invested he already was in the eagle. It was obvious she wanted him out of the way.
Climbing into the Triumph always took some doing. Before he attempted it, Stephen checked to see that there was no coolant leakage behind his radiator and collected a couple of small pieces of grille he’d missed earlier. The little car started and ran smoothly. The headlights of Barbara’s truck came on, and their small convoy eased out of the parking lot onto the road.
Accompanied by worrying clinks, he drove slowly and carefully, but the car ran smoothly. He pulled into the driveway in front of his new abode, shut off the engine, levered himself out from behind the wheel, grabbed his cane from the passenger’s seat and limped up to Barbara’s truck. “Thank you for everything. I’ll come by to check on him as soon as I can after breakfast.”
She leaned out her open window. “Here’s my card. Numbers for me, the clinic, my cell and my email. I’ll let you know if something changes. Mr. MacDonald—”
“Stephen, please.”
“And I’m Barbara. Try to get some sleep, and don’t worry. He obviously wants to live. Now we have to hope his will is as strong as his bones.” She pulled away and waved through her window as she drove back onto the road and turned toward the clinic.
He stood in the dark and watched her taillights until she turned the bend and disappeared. Heck of an introduction to the country, he thought. And a heck of an introduction to the most interesting woman he’d met since Nina died.
Though she was a bit too sure of herself...
“AN EAGLE? REALLY?” Emma Logan swiveled as much as she could to look at Stephen in the passenger seat of her SUV. It was clearly a challenge to get the distance she needed between her stomach and the steering wheel while still being able to keep her feet on the pedals. “Have you talked to Barbara this morning? How is he?”
“I called at six thirty this morning. That was as late as I could wait. She told me she’s calling in one of her colleagues from the raptor center in Memphis to give her a hand in case she has to pin the wing. I’m glad she decided to bring in another vet. She seemed excellent, but it never hurts to have a second opinion.”
“She’s a gem, but she’s going to kill herself unless she can hire another vet to take some of the pressure off her. There is