A Journey by Chance (10 page)

“I mean,” Gina turned for a moment to set her empty mug on the nightstand, “it seems fine. Brady said his great childhood fear was that his dad would split. I realized I never had that fear. Thank you for that, by the way.”

She reached out and patted her daughter's hand.

“Now he knows his parents' marriage is solid. But it prompted the thought…” She paused, then finally locked eyes with Maggie. “Dad's not around much, is he?”

“That doesn't mean he doesn't love me. That we don't love each other.”

“I know.”

She took a deep breath. Gina was no longer a child. She was in fact her equal, as any friend. But was it right to burden her, inflict doubts that might be groundless? No…but she had to be honest. “Of course it's difficult, all his traveling. I hate it, actually. I miss him, but it won't be this way forever. He can retire soon, you know.”

“Is he coming for your reunion?”

Maggie thought how he had made it only once out of the three times she had attended. Why would he come for this one? “We should hear from him today. It depends on some meeting schedule. Now I'm changing the subject. Aunt Marsha thinks that Lauren doesn't know you've lost your job. Haven't you told her?”

Gina frowned. “Not exactly.”

“Why not?”

“I just don't want to talk about it with anyone yet! I'd only cry.”

“Honey, maybe it's time you do cry over it.”

Gina looked out the window.

Maggie pressed her lips together to stop exasperation from coating her next words. “Even when you were a little girl, you always bottled things inside until eventually you'd just burst over some insignificant frustration. Wouldn't you rather burst with your cousin than with,” she waved her arm, “oh, I don't know. Rather than with the librarian when you're upset about not being able to get online?”

Gina raised an eyebrow. “Don't worry about it, Mother.”

“Well, I will.”
Just leave it alone.
They'd had similar conversations. She took a breath. “You could save it until you're
my age. Then you can just burst all over the place. Laugh and cry and buy wild purple dresses with great splashes of red flowers and not give a hoot about what anyone else thinks. Want to see it?”

Her daughter smiled. “See what? You burst all over the place?”

“You've seen that. No, I mean my dress.”

“I'd love to see your dress.”

Gina stood in Aunt Lottie's kitchen, coiled phone cord stretched across it to reach the sink where she stared unseeing out the window. She listened patiently to her father's voice on the other end of the line. He spoke in his curt business tone, which comforted her because she knew it meant her problems were on his agenda. He would take care of things.

“If word hadn't leaked that Delilah was dead, we may not have known in time. But Ben was ready for a confrontation.” Ben was her attorney. “He showed up on their doorstep with the vet and a court order. There was obvious evidence of neglect, perhaps of abuse.”

“One and the same,” she muttered.

“At any rate, based on that combined with your testimony, Ben thinks you have a case now. He can prove the Park's negligence was a direct cause of your injury. He's filed already. You're suing for 25 million.”

“Twenty-five million?!” she exclaimed.

“We know you're not interested in the money, but it'll get their attention, encourage them to move on it. He needs to schedule your deposition. Once your story's recorded, they'll want to settle out of court as quickly as possible. When can you come?”

“Dad, can't it wait until after the wedding?”

“It's best to move on it. They won't want any more bad publicity than they're getting now. We need to seize this opportunity.”

She closed her eyes. “Tonight's the shower. Tomorrow—”

“Gina, don't give me your schedule. How about a week from next Monday or Tuesday?”

She squeezed the phone between her chin and shoulder, then crossed her arms tightly over her midsection. Lunch rumbled in her stomach. “For how long?”

“Just a few days.” His voice softened. “We won't let you miss the wedding, honey.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Let me talk to your mother.”

“Hey, are you coming for the reunion tomorrow? Mother's got this wild purple dress. It's got a high neck, but the back—well, let's just say, there isn't much of one! I don't think she should go alone, Dad.”

“I'm not worried about a bunch of fat old farmers.”

Gina winced at her dad's harsh tone. He never could mix lighthearted topics into his business mode. “I'll get Mother. Bye.”

“Gina,” he added.

“What?”

“Put this out of your mind. Go do something fun, like watch the corn grow.”

“Right. Goodbye.” She rolled her eyes and called her mother to the phone.

Maggie entered from the dining room and raised her brows at Gina. It was a look that indicated her side of the conversation had been easily overheard by Aunt Lottie, Aunt Marsha, and Lauren, who all sat in the adjacent room.

Gina thought as much. Aunt Lottie didn't believe in cordless phones, which meant that when the kitchen phone rang while she was standing next to it, Gina could either answer it or rush through the house, up the stairs, and down the hall to the bedroom phone.

She sighed. While talking to her father, she had been aware of her mother's voice trying to keep a conversation going around the oddly quiet lunch table. Oh, well. She needed to tell them sometime. Might as well be now. Evidently Aunt Marsha already knew she didn't have a job. She'd just give them the straight facts, leave no space for emotional interpretations.

As she entered the dining room, Aunt Lottie asked sweetly, “Troubles, dear?”

She nodded and slid into her chair. “One of my favorite elephants died at the Park. Her name was Delilah.”

“Delilah?” Aunt Lottie laughed. “Oh, my!”

“She was such a flirt. I swear, she'd wink and,” Gina stood and swayed her hips, “sashay around like this whenever she saw a bull.”

They laughed. Lauren asked if she died of old age.

Gina shook her head. “She was only 25. Sixty-five would have been an old age. Actually there have been some problems at the Park. I'm not supposed to talk about it yet because of the lawsuit. That's what Dad called about.”

“Lawsuit?” Aunt Marsha exclaimed.

“Um.” She studied her fingers splayed on the white linen tablecloth, willing herself not to cry.

“Gina,” Lauren urged, “we're thousands of miles away. Who are we going to tell?”

“I know there's no one here who would care. Well, my accident was in part due to the administrator's negligence. And, um, because of those extenuating circumstances, they let me go.”

“They fired you?” The hurt in her ginger eyes softened the bluntness of her words.

“Yes. So Dad got a lawyer for me. They seem to think I have a case.”

“Oh, Gina!” Lauren jumped up and hurried around the table to hug her. “I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me?”

She returned her hug. “Like I said. It's complicated. And I didn't want to think about it while I was here. This is a month devoted to you and your wedding, not to worrying about my problems.”

Aunt Marsha murmured her concern, and Aunt Lottie announced, “You can trust that when God closes a door, He'll open a window. There'll be another place for you.”

Gina smiled. “I hope so.”

“That was like your dream job,” Lauren remarked. “What do you want to do now?”

“I'm looking for a similar vet position.”

Just as her mother hung up the phone, it rang again. She called Gina to the kitchen, then handed the phone to her with a shrug.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Gina.”

“Brady. Hi.”

“Ah, you recognized my voice.”

“I should hope so. I listened to it for hours on end yesterday.” His soft voice, with that whispery hint to it, was pleasant over the telephone. With a start she realized its effect was one of immediate comfort. Like yesterday.

“Uh-oh. Sounds like maybe you won't be interested in my invitation.” He paused.

“Well,” she teased, “are you going to run it by me or not?”

“Promise not to bite my head off?”

“What makes you think I'd do a thing like that?”

“Experience.” He chuckled.

“Ha, ha.”

“Okay, here goes. I thought you might need a lift to the couples' shower tonight. I'd be glad to swing by and get you. It's outside of town; could be difficult for you to find.”

Gina listened to the quiet emanating from the dining room.

“And there's something I'd like to show you, if you could be ready early, say about 4:00?”

She weighed the thought of the planned shopping expedition with high-strung women against this voice that was having a decidedly calming effect on her. She thought of her father's advice to have fun—

“But if you have other—”

“Well,” she interrupted, “can we watch the corn grow?”

“Sure.” The grin in his voice was obvious.

“I'd love to. Four o'clock or 3:30 would be fine.” No way the women would be back by 3:30. It gave her an easy out.

“Three—? Sure. See you then. Bye.”

Gina met the four expectant faces with a shrug. “Brady,” she stated, knowing the name would explain everything to them. “You don't mind if I skip the outing this afternoon, do you?”

Lauren laughed and clapped her hands. “Not in the least.”

She pointed a finger at her cousin. “Keep that up and I'll change my mind.”

“Unfortunately, I've had a change of plans.” Brady glanced at her, then focused again on his driving. They sped in his truck along a two-lane highway north of town, a new route for Gina. “I hope you don't mind.”

“Since I didn't know what the original plans were, I guess I don't mind.” She watched him drive, his right wrist slung over the steering wheel, his left elbow propped on the open window. He wore a yellow cap today, with some other sort of “Seed” proclaimed on it. White T-shirt, blue jeans, and work boots completed the ensemble.

“We might get to the original plans yet today. My brother just called on the cell phone while I was driving over. He needs some help. It shouldn't take long. Maybe you'd like to see the family farm? You did ask if we could watch the corn grow.”

“My dad's idea of a joke. Sure. Whatever it takes to keep me out of the mall.”

“More shopping?” His tone was incredulous.

“It's what you do three weeks before a wedding. Today is Aunt Marsha's turn. She had bought a blue dress, but my mother said that just won't work. Rule number one for the mother-in-law is to wear neutral tones and keep her mouth shut.”

He laughed. “Good advice for a lot of people.”

“You know, you wouldn't last three minutes on a Los Angeles freeway driving like that.” “

Like what?”

Gina scrunched down in the seat and mimicked the positioning of his arms.

He winked. “Wouldn't catch me driving on a Los Angeles freeway in a million years.”

“You sound rather closed-minded on that subject.”

“Just not interested in the place.”

“Have you ever been to California?”

“I was in Los Angeles once.”

“Once isn't even a blip on the screen. L.A. alone is so multifaceted, you couldn't begin to form an intelligent opinion based on one visit.”

“Would you want to live in Valley Oaks?”

“Not in a mil—” She stopped. “It's just not my kind of place.”

“Hmm. And how often have you visited?”

“I don't know. When I was growing up, every other year or so.”

“For three days at a time.”

“Well…”

“Hardly counts. Guess we're evenly closed-minded.” He lifted his forefinger off of the steering wheel as a car sped by in the opposite direction.

“Guess so. What did you just do with your finger? Looks like some sort of secret code.”

He grinned and turned onto a blacktop drive. “Just a wave.”

“A wave.” Gina eyed the long drive bordered on the left by a cornfield. To the right was a big field of thick green grass enclosed on four sides by a white split-rail fence. In the distance stood a large, white house. The whole scene belonged on a postcard. “This is beautiful. Did you grow up here?”

“Yes. My great-grandparents built the original house around 1910. Rooms have been added through the years.”

The two-story white house with black shutters resembled a square colonial. Attached to both sides of the square were
wings, one of which appeared to be a screened porch. Evergreens, smaller trees, and bushes dotted the long front yard. White barns and other smaller buildings to the right of it were separated by a large blacktop area. It was nothing like the few farmhouses she knew. It was almost elegant. Maybe all that talk of the Olafssons being wealthy hadn't been an exaggeration. Recalling the humble home her mother grew up in with four siblings, she thought it no wonder the family looked down their noses at the Lindstroms.

“Do you have neighbors?”

“Sure. Down the road a piece.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “In the next area code.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. No neighboring homes were in sight, but she had heard this one. It was a Brady joke. “I don't believe it.”

“Suit yourself.” Just beyond the house he parked outside a barn. “I can show you the house later, if you'd like.” They climbed out of the truck. “Do you mind helping if we need it? Ryan is the only one around at the moment, and he gets pretty queasy with this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

The sharp neighs of a horse drowned his answer. She followed him into the barn and immediately saw what sort of thing this was. A wild-eyed chestnut reared in its stall. A chain was draped over her nose, cutting into the skin.

“Ryan! Let up!” Brady shouted above the animal's cries as he went toward her, pulling on gloves. “You're making it worse.”

Gina barely took note of the smaller version of Brady standing nearby, lead rope in hand. While the brothers argued, she stared at the horse, fighting down the nausea that quickly spread from the pit of her stomach. What ripped through her was the unbearable pain and terror so evident in
the animal's eyes and unnaturally pitched cries. Like a blow to the head, they wrenched aside all sense of equilibrium.

It was Delilah all over again.

“Gina!” Brady yelled. “Grab a coat from the hook over there and cover up your clothes. The Banamine's up in that cupboard. I'll hold her steady while you—”

She ran blindly out of the barn, away from the pain and terror.

It was Delilah all over again.

A corner of her mind knew she was hysterical, knew she raced without direction, but that corner was a powerless observer. Sobbing, she stumbled past buildings and fences, across blacktop, gravel, dirt, then onto grassy, uneven ground.

Her throat ached and her lungs burned. She sank onto long, soft grass, her chest heaving as she gulped for each breath.

She had no sense of time, but only of a consuming grief. She crossed her arms over her head and buried her face against her bent knees.

The crying wouldn't stop. The grief intensified.

“Oh, God! I can't bear this.”

She hadn't cried like this…ever. Not when her pets died. Not when her best friend moved. Not when Steve told her he couldn't respect, let alone love, a nonteam player. Not when Steve publicly questioned her veterinary expertise. Not when the body cast sapped her strength like a desert noonday sun. Not when she lost her job. Not when friends stopped returning her calls. Not yesterday when she learned Delilah had died.

Was she making up for all those times? Why now? Why here with a bunch of strangers?

The answer came. It was because a horse begged for help, and in that instant she knew she'd never again help another animal.

“Oh, dear God, help me!”

“Gina.” Brady's voice seemed to come from a great distance.

A moment later his strong arms enveloped her.

She jerked away, elbowing him in the ribs. “I'm fine.” Her tears had slowed, but she still sat in the grass, knees curled up, head buried in arms, lost in anguished thoughts.

“I beg to disagree, Dr. Philips.”

“I am fine.” She enunciated each word, her voice low, and peered up at him through swollen eyes. He was sitting beside her. “I will be fine.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and dabbed at her cheek. “Gina,” he whispered, “just let it go.”

The will to not let it go was gone. She began to cry softly. This time when his arms came around her, she didn't struggle.

He stroked her hair, nudging her to lean against his chest.

In the stillness she became aware of his heart's rhythmic beating against her ear. Its measured cadence seeped a calm into her chaotic mind. There was the clean scent of laundry detergent on his T-shirt soft beneath her cheek. The hand near her face that smoothed her hair smelled of justscrubbed, soapy freshness. Nestled in his arms, she relaxed against him and wiped tears from her face. He handed her the hankie.

Her shaky breaths subsided. She felt like a silly child—

“Gina?”

No, not a child. She felt like a grown woman being comforted by a very physical male with a gentle, whispery voice that sent a tickle along her spine whenever she heard it. He was a mere stranger whose heart had the audacity to care that she was hurting.

“Know how you can tell if you're in the Midwest?”

A Brady joke. She shook her head.

“When you find a weeping woman in a waterway.”

She smiled. “Nice alliteration.” Her voice was thick and scratchy from crying. “What's a waterway?”

“What we're sitting in. It's a path through the cornfield, a channel for water to flow into. The seat of your khakis are probably grass stained. Though I imagine that's the least of your worries at the moment. You know, it might help to talk.”

There was an almost imperceptible tightening of his arms, just enough to crack open the door to her reluctance to talk about it. “How's your horse? Is it colic?”

“Good diagnosis, Doctor. Ruby will be fine.” He chuckled. “And so will Ryan. I made him plunge the Banamine down her throat. It was good practice for him. He always avoids these situations.”

“I'm so sorry.” She sniffled.

“It's okay.” He rested his chin on her head. “Tell me what happened.”

Glad that she couldn't see his face, Gina began. “She terrified me. Some vet, huh? I'll never ever be able to—” She choked.

“Shh. Never ever say ‘never ever.' Nothing is a forever ‘never' in this life. Why don't you start at the beginning? You are a vet, right?”

“Was.”

“Hey, you don't stop being one because something scared you. Was it Delilah?”

“Mm-hmm.” She listened to his heartbeat for a few moments, letting it flow through her like a healing balm on bruised emotions, sensing that it would somehow give her the ability to tell the story without falling apart again.

She took a deep breath. “She was one of the animals I cared for. I was an assistant and helped with the elephants
and some of the other large animals. Rhinos and giraffes. Anyway,” she swallowed, “Delilah was being abused. In my opinion anyway. Her keeper was young and inexperienced. He used the ankus all the time.”

“What's that?”

“A long stick with a hook on the end. And he chained her. I treated her for the wounds he inflicted on her, and they said it was just a necessary part of the training! Like I didn't know the difference!”

“I take it you reported it?”

“Yes. To my boss. When that went nowhere, I talked to administrators and board members.”

“What was their response?”

“Two asked me to keep them informed. One day an animal rights group picketed outside the Park. I was blamed, but I hadn't told anyone on the outside. I didn't want bad publicity. Other employees began avoiding me like the plague. Steve, my…uh, boss, said I wasn't acting like a team player and I'd better get my act together.

“Oh, Brady, I couldn't stand by and not say anything! Delilah got worse. She was so sad. Her keeper didn't even take care of her feet properly. Do you know about elephants' feet?”

A chuckle rumbled through his chest against her ear. “No.”

“Well, they need regular pedicures because they're confined in a zoo setting. Out in the wild they walk miles every day. Their pads and toenails just naturally wear away. Without that or the pedicures, they get infections. Lifethreatening infections. And this idiot, Jared—” She took a breath. “At least he was alert enough to suspect she had one. I went in to take care of her…” Gina's mind went blank.

“And?” he prompted softly.

The nightmare rushed back. The two-and-a-half-ton elephant swayed…not in her usual manner…it was a nervous movement. She seemed to avoid eye contact with her, tilted her head oddly. Of course the infection would bother her.

Gina patted her thick hide, talked to her. Jared slipped through the tall, open doors. “Hey!” she had called. He was supposed to stay. He was the animal's handler, the one who trained her how to lift her foot so they could inspect it.

The tall doors mechanically swished shut.

Delilah bowed her head and Gina knew…not soon enough to move. “She attacked me.”

Brady tightened his hold. “Dear God!” he whispered.

“Full body slam against a concrete wall.” Gina's tone was flat. “She had been secured and couldn't reach me, but I could hear her. I'd swear she was crying.”

“Where was the keeper?”

“Gone. It was almost as if…” She bit her lip. “As if it were planned.”

He caught his breath.

“Brady, I've never said that out loud. It was just a splitsecond feeling.”

“How long before someone found you?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I passed out.”

“How badly were you hurt?”

“Um, three months in a body cast. Most of the damage was to my hip and knee. That's why I walk funny.” She felt wrapped in a cocoon, a small world where she could speak freely and feel safe. She closed her eyes. “The press got wind of it, and I talked. I knew it would cost me my job, but that seemed beside the point compared to lying around in a piece of itchy plaster not knowing if I'd ever walk again.” She sighed. “And wondering if Delilah was suffering.”