Enright Family Collection (127 page)

“So, what did you think?” she asked Lee.

“I think you are a natural teacher. I think you have a gift,
cara.”
He told her. “I think your greatest contribution to dance may well be your ability to share it with others. You were wonderful with the children, and your face just glowed the entire time.”

“I was having fun.”

“And it was obvious. I would definitely give some thought to teaching, if I were you. And you know,” he looked around the big open space, “this could be a wonderful studio. Why, a few skylights, a few mirrors ...”

“... a few less splinters in the floor,” Georgia laughed. “But I don’t really know how long I’ll be here. It wouldn’t be worth it to make such an investment.”

“So you skip the skylights. How much can a few mirrors, a barre and a floor sander cost?”

Georgia shrugged.

“I think it’s worth looking into,” Lee said.

“You may be right. Maybe I should talk to Laura and see what she thinks.”

“Well, while you debate your employment options, why not give me that tour I was promised? And
where’s this little piggy you told me about?” Lee took her arm.

“Oh! Spam! I left her in the garden. And it looks as if the girls have found her.” Georgia took off across the yard ahead of her guest. “Ally, don’t scare her, okay? She’s a little on the timid side.”

“Where’d you get her? Is she yours? Can we keep her? What’s her name?” Ally jumped up and down excitedly.

“Her name is Spam ...”

“Spam!” Five giggly girls repeated in unison.

“Here, Spam, it’s okay,” Georgia crooned. The little pig crept to her, a wary eye on the others. “See, she’s very sweet, but she’s a little overwhelmed. There are so many of you, and only one of her.”

“Can we touch her, Aunt Georgia?”

“Why not take turns just letting her sniff your hand until she gets used to the commotion?”

One by one, the little girls poked little fingers gingerly through the fence.

“Oh! Her skin is rough!”

“Ugh! She licked my finger!”

“Does she sleep in the barn?”

“No,” Georgia stood up, watching Lee, who had walked to his car and opened the trunk. “She sleeps on the back porch.”

“Does she have a bed?”

“No, but I do need to find something. I think pigs sleep in straw, but I don’t want to litter the back porch with that.”

“How about this?” Lee was on his way back to the garden, a large basket held high over his head.

“Oh!” Ally cried. “It’s a big dog bed! With a plaid cushion like the one Aunt Zoey got for Diva!”

“Oh, Lee, for heaven’s sake ...” Georgia laughed out loud.

“Think she’ll like it?” Lee asked.

“I think she’ll love it. Here, bring it in and let’s see if she can figure out what to do.” Georgia opened the gate.

“Here you go, Spam,” Lee said softly as he lowered the wicker bed to the ground and patted the cushion. “What do you think of this?”

The pig hesitated for a moment, then investigated the basket with her snout. In the blink of an eye she had climbed in and rolled onto her back, much to the delight of the children.

“She loves it, Lee,” Georgia hugged him. “What a clever gift.”

“I’m glad she likes it. I wanted to get you a house warming, and couldn’t think of anything that you didn’t already have.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you. Spam thanks you. Now, girls, run inside and change into play clothes. And wash your hands really well, because we’re going to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and pack a lunch for a picnic down by the pond.”

Five pairs of small feet headed to the house. “They must be hungry,” Georgia mused. “I only had to tell them once.”

“Georgia, are you expecting someone?” Lee asked.

“No, why?”

“Because you keep watching the drive as if you’re waiting for someone.”

“Do I? I didn’t realize.” She shrugged. “No. I’m not waiting for anyone.”

But later, as they strolled back from their picnic, the girls running ahead with Spam, Lee noticed the black pickup truck parked near the barn right about the same time Georgia did. He saw the look on her face, and the color rise to her cheeks as her eyes scanned the yard from side to side.

“Whose truck is that?” Lee asked casually.

“Truck?” she reddened. “Oh, that truck. That belongs to Laura’s brother.”

“Now, would that be your half brother?”

“Oh, no. We’re not related.” She answered much too quickly, Lee thought. “Laura was adopted by a family named Bishop. Years after they adopted her, they adopted a little boy.”

“I see. And how old is this little boy now?”

“He’s about my age. Maybe a little older. I’m not sure.” She shrugged as if to show that the age of Laura’s brother—that Laura’s brother himself—was of no consequence.

Lee smiled to himself. To one who knew her well, she was as transparent as glass.

“What’s he like?”

“What’s who like?”

“Laura’s brother. What does he do?”

“He’s a veterinarian. In Shawsburg.” She poked him in the ribs. “And he’s not your type.”

Lee laughed. “But I would venture a guess that he might be your type.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you are blushing to the very tips of your
fingers, a phenomenon I have only witnessed once in all the years I’ve known you.”

“Matt is ... he’s ...” She tried to come up with words that would describe how she felt about him, but wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

“... quite a handsome young man.” Lee nodded in the direction of the barn, where Matt was coming down the side steps behind his dog.

Matt whistled to get Ally’s attention, and she skipped across the yard to throw herself into his arms, while Artie sped across the grass.

“Lee, Matt has not been quite as welcoming as Laura.”

“Really?”

“Really. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t want me here at all. If he had his way, I would just disappear and take my whole family with me.”

“Now, why would you say that?” Lee glanced down at his beeper as it went off, then frowned as he read the number which flashed across the small screen. “Damn. It’s the restaurant. I hope nothing’s wrong. May I use your phone?”

“Sure. It’s on the wall right inside the kitchen door.” Georgia said, seemingly unaware that her eyes had never left the dark-haired man who was swinging Ally around by her arms.

Dropping Ally carefully onto her feet, Matt looked past her to where Georgia strolled with Lee. The look on his face was not the look of a man who gazed upon someone he wished would disappear.

A squeal of terror startled them both.

“That’s Spam ... oh, no. Artie!”

Georgia took off across the yard.

“Artie, no, no!” She called to the dog, who was in the process of backing the terrified pig into the fence. “Good dog, Artie. Here, Artie.”

Artie wagged his tail. He knew he was a good dog. He was also a pleased dog, having backed the strange-looking creature into a corner.

“It’s okay, Spam,” she said as she knelt down next to the frightened pig. Only Spam’s low-slung profile kept her from climbing into Georgia’s lap. “Artie, you have to be nice to Spam.”

“Spam?”

She looked up to see Matt, who had raced to discover the cause of the commotion.

“She’s my pet.” Georgia told him without looking up.

“She’s one scared little hambone.” He leaned down and placed one big hand on the pig’s neck as if taking her pulse. “Artie, come here.”

The dog, who had been busy making friends with Lee, bounded over. Immediately, the pig began to scream.

“Artie, sit. Be nice.” Matt told him.

Artie sat.

“Do you mind?” He asked Georgia as he reached for the pig. She handed Spam over.

“Aw, it looks like something almost had you for dinner.” Matt gently examined the scars on the pig’s hindquarters. “I’ll bet it was a big dog like Artie, wasn’t it? Is that why you’re so afraid of him? Aw, poor girl. It’s okay, Artie won’t hurt you, will you, Artie?”

Artie lay down on the grass and looked innocent.

“She’s in pretty good shape, it would seem,” Matt was saying, “except for the scars. Where’d you get her?”

“She just showed up. As a matter of fact, she’s our garden-mauler. I found her raiding the garden at about five in the morning a few days ago.”

“Someone turned you out, didn’t they?” Matt said, and Spam, knowing a friendly voice when she heard one, grunted.

“So, then, what are you going to do with her?”

“What do you mean, what am I going to do with her? I’m going to keep her.”

“You’ll forgive me, but you just don’t strike me as the pig type. A bichon frise, maybe. Or a silkie. A papillion. Maybe even a Persian cat. But a pig?” He shook his head. “It just doesn’t seem to fit.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” She gathered her pig to her side. “Spam is exactly the right pet for me, aren’t you, girl?” Georgia gave Spam a tickle under the chin and the pig rolled over happily, if somewhat warily, Artie still being clearly too close for Spam’s peace of mind.

“Georgia, are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Lee had been watching the exchange from the top step with great amusement. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever seen Georgia blush like that. Or the last time he’d seen a man fight harder not to notice than Matthew Bishop at that exact moment.

“Lee, this is Laura’s brother, Matt. Matt, this is my good friend, Lee Banyon.”

Matt offered Lee a reluctant hand and a scowl.

Lee smiled broadly. Unless he was mistaken, that scowl was warning Lee to back off.

Interesting. Very interesting.

“Georgia, I’m so sorry, but I have to go back to the restaurant. It seems the cook sliced off half a finger and if we’re going to be serving dinners tonight, it appears that I will be cooking them.”

“Oh, I was hoping you could stay ...” Georgia was clearly disappointed.

“Next time, I promise. Now, let me say good-bye to those adorable little dancers of yours, and to you, of course, Matt, nice to meet you.” Lee gathered Georgia into his arms and kissed her soundly.

Behind her, Lee noticed, Matt’s knuckles were turning white.

Ah, so that’s how it is, is it?
Lee mused as he kissed the top of Georgia’s head and swung an arm around her as they walked to the car. He could feel Matt’s eyes boring holes through his shirt. Georgia, however, appeared to be totally unaware.

“I’ll call you, Georgia.”

“Do. I want you to come back.”

“Nothing could keep me away.” Lee started his car. “Think about what I said, Georgey. About the dance studio.”

“I will.” She nodded.

“Bye, Lee,” the girls tumbled out of the house.

“Bye, girls!” He waved as he turned the car around and sped down the drive to the road.

“Aunt Georgia, can we go back down to the pond?”

“Sure. Just try not to get too muddy.”

The girls ran off in a pack of pigtails and sneakers.

Georgia started to follow, a pacified but still somewhat wary Spam at her feet.

“Just a minute.” Matt grabbed her elbow.

“What?”

“I don’t think you should be making plans to have your boyfriend come to stay if Ally is here with her friends. I don’t think it gives her a very good message.”

“I think you assume too much,” was all she said, distracted by the pulsing bits of fire that were spreading from his fingers to her upper arm and across her chest and back like an electrical current. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to keep an eye on the girls.”

Matt stood with his hands on his hips watching her walk through the field, Spam trotting at Georgia’s heels while keeping a watchful eye on Artie, and tried to deny to himself that he wished he was walking with them. That seeing her again hadn’t been the real reason he’d made the trip to Pumpkin Hill. That it didn’t bother him a whit that there was a man in her life for whom she obviously cared greatly. That he hadn’t felt a gnawing at his insides watching the sway of her hips as she disappeared over that first rise that led down to the pond.

“Matt!”

Laura touched his shoulder and he started.

“Matt, didn’t you hear me calling?”

“No. I was, um, looking for Artie. He, ah, took off someplace.” He mumbled, not willing to admit that he’d been distracted to the point of deafness.

“I guess you didn’t get the message I left on your answering machine earlier today.”

“No, I didn’t go back to the house after I closed up the clinic.”

“Artie will find his way back. He always does.” Laura took his arm gently and turned him back toward the house. “Let’s go inside and have a cup of tea. We need to talk, Matt, about Mother ...”

chapter thirteen

The back road between Shawsburg and O’Hearn was old and bumpy, the result of too many potholes gone far too long without repair. Having made the trip so often over the years, Matt knew where the worst of the craters lay, yet today, his attention being diverted by other things, he somehow managed to hit just about every one of them. He cursed under his breath as his right front tire bounced into a particularly nasty patch of broken macadam head-on, causing the cab to swerve momentarily toward the center of the road. The jolt on the worn out shocks slammed his back teeth into his tongue.

He should have seen that one coming. He’d hit it once before, some months earlier, but since then had been successful in avoiding it. Until today. Of course, the last time he’d driven this way he hadn’t quite as many distractions fighting for his attention.

Matt sighed and leaned back against the worn leather seat, his right hand absently reaching over to
pat Artie’s back in time to the music on the truck’s radio. He’d been in the mood for oldies that afternoon, but the radio was acting up again. He settled for a static-y version of Van Morrison’s
Brown Eyed Girl
and tried to force himself to relax. It had been a very tough week, and this weekend was not likely to make things any easier.

He eased up on the gas pedal, reminding himself that he had no good reason to want to get to Pumpkin Hill any sooner than necessary. If it wasn’t Ally’s birthday, he wouldn’t be going at all, having decided that, after today, he’d keep his visits to the farm at a minimum for as long as Georgia was there. Something about the woman worked on his nerves in strange ways, and he knew enough to know the less
that
territory was explored, the better off he’d be, all things considered. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to see too much of her today, because he really wasn’t in much of a social mood. Daily visits to Riverview over the past six days had totally drained him emotionally. The news hadn’t changed from one day to the next. His mother was deteriorating, and it was breaking his heart.