The Place I Belong (10 page)

“Being a vet has its perils too.” Hannah glanced down at the parallel welts on her hand. “I have these and some tooth marks that will never fade away.” Hannah began progressing around her plate.

“You’ve been bitten? I got the sense you could soothe any savage beast.”

“They don’t mean to hurt me. They’re in pain and they lash out to protect themselves.”

A shadow crossed his face and was gone. “You’re very
forgiving
.”

“Of animals.” She savored the cheddar.

“Not of people?”

She hadn’t meant to go down that road. Something about his feeding her created a false sense of intimacy. “People should know better,” she said with a shrug.

He gave her a sharp look but didn’t comment.

“How’s Trace doing?” she asked as the silence lengthened.

The furrows between Adam’s brows smoothed out. “I re-bandaged the wound this morning. There was no redness or swelling.”

“Good to hear.” She didn’t know what else to say, so she made a show of drinking the last of her wine. The waiter materialized almost the minute she set down the empty glass, a b
ottle a
t
the rea
dy.

“May I pour another glass?” he asked.

Hannah already felt a little buzzy, probably from having only a few pieces of bread and cheese to absorb the alcohol, but she nodded just to give herself something to fiddle with.

“Would you bring us some more bread and some country pâté?” Adam asked before he looked back to her. “You seem
hungry
.”

Since she had planned to toss a frozen pizza in the oven for dinner, she didn’t argue with him. Pâté sounded a heck of a lot more appetizing.

“So, what brought you to Sanctuary?” he asked.

It was a perfectly normal, friendly question, but it always threw Hannah when someone asked it. The reasons she had come to Sanctuary were so wretched she preferred to shove them into the darkest recesses of her mind. Not that they stayed there all the time, but she was getting better and better at ignoring them. Except when she was asked.

She used her standard bland, false answer. “I wanted to get back to working with large animals and saw Tim’s job posting.”

“I noticed your degree is from the University of Pennsylvania.”

Estelle had insisted on hanging her diploma in the waiting room. The receptionist said all that fancy lettering impressed
the clie
nts.

“Maybe I came here for the same reasons you did,” Hannah said, deciding the best defense was a good offense.

Adam’s eyes went opaque. “I doubt it.”

Hannah wasn’t sure whether to bless or curse the timing of the waiter as he placed another bread basket and a tray with a little loaf of pâté on the table. Adam picked up the knife and began slicing pâté, laying it on bread and piling tiny gherkins on top before he glanced up at her. “When would you like to come to The Aerie?”

“Er, I’m waiting for a special occasion,” Hannah said.

“There’s no need to wait. You can come again for the special occasion.”

Hannah snagged one of the pâté tidbits and stuffed it in her mouth, chewing to give herself time to think. She swallowed. “Next month.” She didn’t pick a day, hoping the time would pass by and he would forget. She was sure he was too busy to notice whether she showed up for a free meal or not.

“Why don’t you—” He stopped with a little shake of his head and nudged the serving tray toward her. “Have another.”

As she enjoyed another morsel, she remembered the additional piece of information she wanted to share with Adam. “There’s something else you might want to do with Matt.”

He went still, his gaze fixed on her with the message that she had his full attention.

“Take him to Disney World to swim with dolphins,” she said.

“Disney World?” His head jerked back a fraction of an inch. “Isn’t he too old for that?”

Now that she had to explain her suggestion, she realized what a minefield she’d strayed into. Would mentioning Matt’s mother upset Adam? She had no idea what the dynamic had been between the two parents and whether he would be mourning his dead lover too. “He went to Disney World with his mother and interacted with dolphins from a platform. She promised to take him back when he was old enough to swim with them. It means something to him.”

He began twisting the stem of his glass with one hand. When he raised his eyes to hers, they were filled with regret. “I don’t think he’d want to go with me.”

She couldn’t help herself; she reached across the small table and laid her palm over the back of his hand, willing comfort into her touch. “Ask him.”

His gaze dropped to their hands and an odd smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She didn’t know how to get herself out of this position, so she froze. His smile twisted before he said, “I suppose the worst he can do is say no.”

He turned his hand under hers so their palms met and wrapped his fingers around hers. “No wonder Trace lets you touch him.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and released it, reaching for the cheese knife.

She pulled her hand back and seized her glass, gulping the wine to wash away the flare of response his comment had evoked deep in her gut. Instead of dousing it, the wine spread the heat through her body.

Adam fell back on the only thing that seemed to relax the jumpy veterinarian: food. He arranged more cheese and pâté on her plate. It was something he did well. For some reason she seemed very resistant to the idea of coming to his restaurant. That pricked his pride.

It also left him feeling in her debt. She’d found out more about Matt in eight hours than he had in four months.

She plowed through a few more bites of bread and pâté, looking as though she might flee for the door at any moment if he spoke again, so he just gave her an encouraging smile.

She returned it briefly, tossing a few stray strands of that silky, flaxen hair behind her shoulder. The gold hoops gleaming in her earlobes drew his eye to the tender skin of her neck and he wondered what she would taste like there. She said something and he yanked his thoughts away from their inappropriate path. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I missed that.”

“I need to go home and let my dogs out,” she repeated. “The dog walker had to do her afternoon visit early today. It’s been an education eating with you though.” She fumbled with her purse.

“This is my treat,” he said, not sure whether to be insulted or amused. “You took the time to talk with me about my son.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” She started to rise, looking nervous.

“I’m very sure,” he said, coming to his feet and walking around the table to pull out her chair.

She stood and sidestepped away from him. “I guess I’ll see you when you bring Trace in again. Thanks so much.”

He started to hold his hand out to shake hers, but she was already walking toward the door.

Lowering his hand, he sank down into her chair, feeling the lingering warmth of her body heat and catching a faint tangy scent of citrus. He shook his head. It shouldn’t surprise him that the one person who could talk to his son wanted to avoid him. That was the way his life with Matt seemed to go.

He reached for his water and took a swallow, thinking about the dolphins at Disney World. Matt’s mother had drowned, something he imagined Hannah didn’t know, so it seemed insensitive to offer to take his son swimming. On the other hand, maybe that was the best thing to do so Matt wouldn’t associate the water with her death.

He let his head rest against the arm chair’s high back. How was he supposed to know the right way to help a child deal with his mother’s death?

He found himself eyeing Hannah’s half-finished wine, practically tasting the crisp, cool vintage sliding down his throat, blurring the edges of his problems.

He picked up the glass and carried it to the bar, leaning over to pour it down the drain in the stainless steel sink.

Hannah took her mail out of the box and opened the front door of her house to be greeted by her animal family with wild enthusiasm. She knelt to let her dogs lick her and her cats rub against her. She’d started adopting them as soon as she’d bought her own condo in Chicago because she couldn’t understand why people wanted to come home to an empty house when they could have this kind of welcome.

“Okay, guys,” she said, pushing to her feet. “Let me sort through the mail and we’ll take a quick walk before dinner.” The “w” and “d” words sent the dogs into paroxysms of yelping excitement, while the cats leapt onto the back of the couch and looked down on the canine hysteria with disdain.

She waded through the fray, flipping through the flyers and catalogues until she came to a handwritten envelope with no return address and a Chicago postmark. Frowning, she put it down on the kitchen counter and dropped the other mail in the recycling. There was no one she wanted to communicate with in Chicago, so she considered adding it to the discarded catalogues. Curiosity got the better of her and she ran her finger under the flap to open it.

Inside were two pieces of paper folded together, one a single sheet of lined paper torn out of a spiral notebook, the other a Xeroxed copy of the standard information form that was filled out for every patient brought into the practice. The note was short and signed by one of the vet techs who had worked in the Chicago clinic with her.

Dear Dr. Linden,

What happened to you was crappy. I found the admission form so you can prove that jerk didn’t leave his cell phone number when he dropped off Sophie. Here’s a copy, but I know where the original is. I can get it for you if you want it.

Sincerely,

Vicky Landers

Hannah flipped to the Xeroxed page, skimming down the sheet. There it was: the bold black mark where Robert Sawyer had slashed through the blank line for a cell phone number where he could be reached. This was the document she’d needed to prove she’d had no way to contact the dog’s owner before she made her decision about Sophie. When the office staff had tried to locate it, it had mysteriously vanished. She collapsed onto a kitchen stool as she stared at the papers in her hands.

Paul Taggart’s offer floated into her mind. Now that she had proof, was it worth trying to clear her name?

She laid the documents on the counter and stared off through the sliding glass doors that led to the big, fenced backyard of her rented house. It would feel so wonderful to be free of the shadow that hovered over her life. She tried to picture her moment of vindication, but the image of Sawyer admitting he had lied just wouldn’t come into focus.

Would it stir up the local media again, or was the story old news by now? She didn’t think she could face another barrage of ugly, confusing questions. When the drama was playing out she’d stopped patronizing her regular coffee shop because the local weekly newspaper was displayed right beside the cash register, and she couldn’t avoid seeing the accusatory headlines.

Her breathing grew rapid and shallow while a fist of anxiety squeezed her throat.

That answered her question. If just thinking about the possibility made her react like this, she certainly didn’t want to face it in reality.

She slipped off the stool and shoved the papers in her kitchen junk drawer.

She’d have to find a way to thank Vicky for her support and persistence. The vet techs had surprised her with their partisanship. Three of them, including Vicky, had offered to swear they had seen the information form with the cell phone number blank, even though they hadn’t. She’d refused their offer, not wanting their perjury on her conscience along with everything else.

Her partners, on the other hand, had distanced themselves from her, claiming the office staff wouldn’t have allowed the sick, elderly dog to be left without a valid contact number. They were protecting the practice in the public eye, but she would have appreciated a little private sympathy. They were afraid of the influence Robert Sawyer could wield. Just as Ward had been.

“I love you, but I don’t think you’re cut out to be a politician’s wife,” he’d said, trying to cast their broken engagement as a favor to
her.