It's a Love Thing (29 page)

“
True. There is much we
cannot repair.” Emily took Sera’s hand. “We are not soulless, Sera.
Our mission is one of compassion, though I admit that sometimes we
certainly overlook the small necessities because we are so focused
on the larger picture. We would like to study Dex’s blood, but the
bottom line is that you deserve to be with him.”

Sera couldn’t resist wrapping her arms
around Emily. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“
Sera?”

His voice made her turn.

“
Phew,” Emily
joked.

Sera spun. Her legs couldn’t take her
toward him fast enough. His arms reached her, gathered her up
tightly. “Sera . . .” he breathed.

She couldn’t say his name. She reached
up, pulling his face down to hers and just rested her cheek against
his, breathing in his scent, complete in his presence.

The End

About the Author of
Haven

Raneé spends naptimes and bedtimes
writing, editing, and blogging. She has a Bachelor’s degree in
History from the University of Wyoming and is currently president
of the PM Writers Chapter of the American Night Writers Association
(ANWA). She, her superhero husband, and two boys live in
Wyoming.

You can find more about
Rane
é
S. Clark
at:

http://raneesclark.blogspot.com

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Contents

SEEDS OF LOVE

The outstretched hide of a porcupine
was draped on the deck of her new apartment when she returned from
work. The beady eyes and prickly demeanor were intimidating despite
knowing the carcass was harmless. If it weren’t for the bleached
cow skull on the railing next to it, Blanca would’ve hopped into
her Miata and high-tailed it back to Chicago. The skull had
intricately beaded eagle feathers dangling from the horns. Blanca
reached across the railing to examine the feathers when a man’s
voice , startled her.

“
It’s bad luck to handle
sacred feathers. Didn’t they teach you anything in those fancy
schools back east?”

Blanca withdrew her hand and looked
over her shoulder at the man she’d only seen coming or going since
she’d arrived in Crouch, Idaho. Just the name of the place she’d
decided to call home made her snicker. She’d originally thought her
paperwork had a typo and the town was called Couch. If Iowa had a
town called Davenport, it only made sense Idaho would have one
called Couch, right? But the State Trooper who had pulled her over
just outside of Garden Valley and given her directions to Crouch
had corrected her on that little detail. The jerk. Who pulls
someone over for dodging boulders anyway, especially when their
ride is a brand new 2012 Miata? Everyone knows the clearance on
those babies is completely non-existent. The thought of the bright
yellow, self-indulgent graduation gift made her smile. She knew it
wasn’t practical for the area, but oh how her baby had sung on the
seventeen-hundred mile drive from Downers Grove, Illinois to
here.

“
Something funny?” Longbow
asked, before sidling past her on the stairs and carefully scooping
up the porcupine pelt.

“
No. Sorry, you surprised
me is all.” She turned to follow the man. “I didn’t mean to offend
you. I just wanted to get a closer look at the beadwork. It’s
incredibly detailed. Is it yours?”

The Apache smoke-jumper her landlord
had warned her to stay clear of shrugged his shoulders and
continued past her to his doorway. Regardless of the landlord’s
advice, Blanca was not about to let the elusive man off that
easily. She’d been trying to find an opportunity to introduce
herself since she arrived, but the man was like a pick-pocket on a
crowded Chicago street. You know they’re there but unless they
choose to grace you with their presence, you never really get close
enough to identify them.

She stepped forward and shoved her
hand between the man and his door. “I’m Blanca, by the way. Blanca
Islas. I’m the new Nurse Practitioner for the clinic here in
Crouch. Nice to meet you, Mr. Longbow.”

He didn’t take her hand or even bother
to look in her direction. “Forest will do,” he said quietly, then
stood as if waiting for her to move.

Blanca was about to appease him when
his soft voice caught her by surprise. “White Island,” he said,
translating her name almost reverently.

Blanca half expected him to turn and
ogle her well-endowed chest like every other man with the ability
to translate Spanish. She’d inherited the name from her
great-grandmother, and despite being proud of her Spanish heritage,
she wished her grandparents could’ve been something more common
like German or Swedish, or that she could’ve been born
flat-chested.

If men weren't eyeing her breasts as
they spoke the English version of her name, they were inevitably
asking her how someone as blond and pale as she could be of Mexican
descent. She was sick of all the lame come-ons and ignorant people
of the world. Only part of the reason she’d packed-up her stuff and
moved cross-country the minute she’d graduated with her DNP,
Doctorate of Nurse Practitioner. She was tired of being a city girl
and all the politics that went with it.

“
La Isla
Blanca
,” he said again in Spanish, “a
beautiful island off the coast of Spain. Have you actually been
there or does your family have a thing for naming their children
after exotic places?”

Astonished by Longbow’s knowledge of
the island, she didn’t respond at first. Then she pulled herself
together and leaned back against the windowsill of his apartment.
“My ancestors founded the island. Thousands of years ago, of
course, but it’s my namesake as well as my great-grandmother’s and
hers before her.” Happy they’d found a common ground, she continued
to provide information about herself in hopes that her mysterious
neighbor would do the same. “The name must skip two generations of
women before it can be used again. My family’s version of old
fashioned superstition I guess.” She motioned toward the skull,
hoping he would explain the sacred feathers he’d admonished her for
almost touching.

Longbow kept his eyes down as he
spoke. “I heard about the condition your clinic was in when you
arrived. There’s no excuse for it, but some people around here
don’t take to city folk coming in and changing things up. It was no
accident the windows were left open for the raccoons and squirrels
to get in. I imagine there’ll be more pranks like that one before
they learn to accept you.” He refocused his attention on the
railing. “The skull is for protection. They won’t come near your
apartment as long as it is here.”

“
For me?” Blanca asked,
starring at the vacant eyes and partially toothed mouth. What does
the skull of a dead cow protect you from, she wondered? Or better
yet, who?

Longbow nodded his head and turned
like he was going to enter his apartment, but stopped at the last
moment. “Normally I don’t poke my nose in other people’s business,
but this time I felt it was necessary. Good night, Miss Islas of
Spanish descent. May the spirits watching over you be more diligent
in the future.”

Blanca realized as she watched Forest
Longbow turn and duck before entering his doorway that the two of
them weren’t so different after all. He, like her, with his lanky
body, long hair, and matching angular nose and face, would forever
be associated with the name given to him through his physicality.
The natural beauty from which his name was originally inspired,all
but discarded with the years. She wondered if a forest such as his
could exist on the hot sandy beaches of an island such as hers.
Then she cut that train of thought short. She was not here to
consider her compatibility with this enigmatic man, nor any other
for that matter. She was here to prove herself as an independent
practitioner.

The following days at the clinic were
uneventful in terms of vandalism or wild animal ran-sacking, but
Blanca knew better than to think the vendetta was over. State
Trooper Reynolds had warned her that the doctor who used to oversee
the nurse practitioners at the rural clinic, Dr. Phelps, was in no
way pleased with someone new moving in and taking over.

Her independence as a doctoral level
nurse practitioner meant the good doctor’s services of overseeing
the clinic were no longer needed. And thus she’d come to the
conclusion the doctor must be sore about the loss of income. Money
was as good a reason as any for sabotaging the clinic and it wasn’t
likely to let up anytime soon. She knew she had to keep her eyes
open and be on the guard for ways in which Dr. Phelps or anyone
else might try to undermine her.

After all, it wasn’t the first time
she’d worked in a man’s world and had to deal with their fragile
egos. She’d been an NP for nearly a decade. It was on her
thirty-fifth birthday last year that she decided to go the distance
and complete the newly offered doctorate which would give her the
freedom to practice how she saw fit, instead of practicing under
the iron rule of egomaniacs like the docs back home.

By the end of her first week at the
clinic, Blanca was ready for a day off. Apparently so was the
clinic secretary, Nikki, who greeted her the minute she stepped
through the door with a cup of juice and a bagel.

“
It’s Friday. I only work
half a day on Fridays on account I have to be at the Dirty Shame by
three-o-clock sharp to start the night shift.” She was decked out
in a frilly shirt and jeans with a huge silver belt buckle at her
waist. The circular tobacco ring protruding from her back pocket
was a topic Blanca had yet to tackle.

Nikki moonlighted as a waitress at the
Dirty Shame Saloon and Café on the weekends. It was the only bar
and eatery in town and most likely a job she couldn’t afford to
lose. With a population of two-hundred and fifty people, the town’s
job opportunities were few and far between. Blanca understood what
it was like to barely make ends meet. She’d worked as a waitress
while putting herself through school the first time. She didn’t
begrudge Nikki, a single mom of three, for doing what was necessary
to get by.

“
Did the new microscope and
medical equipment come in?” Blanca asked, settling at her desk with
the juice and bagel. She took a huge bite and groaned. “Thanks for
the breakfast. How did you know I skipped eating this
morning?”