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  In the midst of it, he recalled another point the pastor had made on Wednesday evening.

  “We all have so much to be thankful for,” the pastor had said, “that sometimes we’re reluctant to ask for what we want or even need, but God wants, expects, us to come to Him. First in gratitude, yes, but also in petition.”

  At the time, the words had struck Stark as ridiculous. What did he have to thank God for? Now the thought hit Stark that he’d never really thanked God for Cathy and Belinda and all they’d meant to him, and he certainly hadn’t thanked God for surviving the wreck or finding this place or anything. He hadn’t felt grateful, even when life had been very good. Not until...not until Meredith.

  Oh, this was bad. And good. Because it meant he was coming back to life. Which was bad. Except, it could be good. Maybe.

  That maybe scared the daylights out of him.

  What if he let himself love her and she walked away?

  What if he let himself love her and something awful happened to her, too?

  What if he just thought he loved her and it turned out that he really didn’t? That he couldn’t?

  He wondered if he could stop what was happening between them, what he was feeling. But did he want to stop it? He didn’t even know anymore. All he seemed able to do now was just go forward one step at a time and hope.

  Had hope always been this terrifying?

  All he knew for sure was that he had to start doing something different or find a way to crawl back into the dark hole that had been his life before he’d hired Meredith Billings. He thought about firing her, but just imagining the look of disappointment on her face tore him up inside. So, forward it was, forward in gratitude.

  Sighing, he bowed his head again. He hoped reluctant thanks counted because that was all he had to give at the moment.

  “Cathy was a perfect wife,” he said. Okay, she hadn’t been perfect. If she had, she wouldn’t have been with him. “She was a good wife, a very good wife. And Bel was a wonderful child. I loved them, and they loved me. We were happy. I miss them.” He gulped down the anger that threatened to rise up, and said, “Thank You for all the good years we had together. Thank You that they didn’t suffer. Thank You for this place and...for getting me through, I guess. That’s all for now. I hope it’s enough.”

  The relief he felt couldn’t be qualified. He almost resented it because it felt like letting go of Cathy and Bel. But Cathy and Bel weren’t here. They belonged to Heaven now. A rush of tears surprised him. He wiped them away and let himself relax, really relax. Stretching out on the bed, he went to sleep fully clothed and dreamed that Cathy came to the clinic.

  “I finally found you,” she said. “How are you? Everything okay?”

  He was overjoyed to see her. At first. Then he thought, If Cathy’s alive, what about Meredith?

  As if reading his mind, Cathy smiled and said, “It’s all right. Everything in its own time.”

  “Where’s Bel?” he asked. “I want to see her.”

  But Cathy ignored that or didn’t hear it. In that infuriating, puzzling way of dreams, she said, “You should get some horses. Horses are your favorite. Everything in its place.”

  Then she was gone, and he thought to himself, I really need to sleep more.

  He woke well rested the next morning to the happy knowledge that Meri would soon be there.

  After unlocking both of the outer clinic doors, he broke out that fancy electric burner and found that it could be dialed to any temperature. Placing it atop the old dresser in his room, he arranged the pans on a small set of rickety shelves that stood next to the refrigerator. Meri had brought in some paper plates and bowls for him, but the pots and pans would have to be washed in the utility sink in the back room. He made a mental note to get a dish drainer, then he washed and dried a skillet and found the bacon that Meri had stashed in the fridge, reasoning that even if she carried in breakfast that morning, bacon wouldn’t go amiss. He had that fried up, coffee percolating and hot water for her tea waiting when he heard her car drive in.

  Opening the back door before she could try the lock, he let in a blast of chilly air. She greeted him with a smile. He returned the smile with one of his own and a question.

  “How’d it go?”

  He backed up, giving her room to enter. His arms gave him trouble. He wanted desperately to sweep her into a hug, but he quelled the urge by parking his hands at his waist. She surprised him by walking straight into him, her arms sliding through his and around his chest. What could he do but wrap her up and squeeze her tightly, puffy coat, handbag and all?

  “It’s good news.”

  He briefly closed his eyes. “Thank You, God.” He almost chuckled. Looked like he was forming some new habits.

  She pulled back then, adjusting the strap of her handbag on her shoulder. Her smile said it all. “We’ll have to wait for the report to filter through Dr. Shorter’s office here in town, but the preliminary news is excellent.”

  Cupping her cheek with his hand, he said, “I am so glad.”

  She nestled her cheek against his palm, her smile broadening. Then she sniffed and asked, “Is that bacon?”

  He nodded. “Everything came. That burner’s something. Come see.”

  Catching her hand, he turned down the hall and led her into the clinic proper. She dropped his hand to sling off her coat and hang it up in the corner. Stashing her handbag in a cubby above the reception desk, she said, “I brought French toast to cook in the toaster oven. It’s out in the car.”

  “French toast and bacon,” he said, grinning. “Yum.”

  She started toward him, but just then a woman burst through the front door into the waiting area, calling, “Doc Burns!”

  He recognized the elderly woman at once and hurried forward to take the box that she carried. Balancing it on the edge of the reception desk, he looked down at the bloody feathers, sighed and shook his head. Not again.

  “Supper!” he scolded.

  Feeling a sharp slap on his upper arm, he looked over at Meri, who glared, inclining her head at the rooster’s owner. A moment passed before Stark realized the problem, but then he bit back a grin.

  “Supper is the rooster’s name.”

  Clearly, Meredith had thought he was giving up on the bird and had pronounced it fit only for the dinner table. Her lovely mouth formed a sweet O.

  “You’ll find his records under the name of Kate Miriam.”

  Meri grit her teeth in an apologetic grimace, which she kept carefully hidden from Ms. Miriam. “I see.”

  Stark did his best to maintain a properly stoic countenance. “If you’d bring those records to Exam One, we’ll see what we can do for Supper.”

  “Yes, sir. At once.”

  “Have a seat, Ms. Miriam,” he said to the older woman. “We’ll be as quick as we can.”

  “Thank you so much,” the old lady warbled tearfully. “Dumb bird just won’t leave that cat alone.”

  “Looks like he’d learn,” Stark said, carrying the box toward the exam room.

  “Hasn’t so far,” Kate Miriam grumbled in a worried tone.

  Meri smoothly offered the distraught woman coffee, then joined Stark in the treatment room. She glanced over the lengthy file as Stark outfitted himself to administer treatment and Supper poked his head up over the edge of the box, clucking and looking around.

  “Is he in shock?”

  “Partly,” Stark answered, gently handling the rooster inside the box. “Mostly he’s just tame.”

  Meri continued to peruse the file. “How many times have you patched up this bird?”

  “Lost count. He and the neighbor’s cat that he tussles with practically pay the bills around here.”

  “Why does she let him out of the henhouse?”

  “He doesn’
t have a henhouse,” Stark said with a chuckle. “He’s not equipped for a henhouse. He was headed for the stew pot on her brother’s farm when Kate rescued him and decided to keep him for a pet. He has a doghouse, and all would be well except that Supper likes to peck through the fence at the neighbor’s cat, so occasionally the cat comes calling. Then it’s World War Three, and somebody winds up in here. I keep telling them to board up the fence or enclose that rooster house, but nobody listens to me. We’re going to need some stitches.” He told Meredith what was required and started cleaning the wounds while she went for the correct medications and laid out sutures.

  Supper knew the drill and hardly ruffled his feathers while Stark worked. Once the bird was sedated, Stark lifted him out of the box and onto a sterile sheet to complete the treatment. The old rooster was going to be missing some feathers, but what were a few more at this point? After the stitching and all the little nicks and cuts were addressed, they lined the box with another sterile sheet, laid the snoozing rooster back in the box and carried him outside with a bottle of antibiotic capsules and an empty syringe. Stark gave instructions to Ms. Miriam, who by now likely knew exactly how to open the capsules, dissolve the antibiotic powder in a syringe of water and shoot it down Supper’s throat.

  “I can’t pay you till the first,” she began, but Stark waved away her concern.

  “We’ll bill you, and, like always, you can pay it out.”

  She smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Burns.” Petting the rooster’s feathered head, she muttered, “Dumb bird,” but she hugged the box tightly as she carried it out of there.

  As the door shut behind her, Stark said, “That’s got to be the most expensive rooster that ever lived.”

  Meri snickered, and then they were both laughing.

  “She clearly loves the thing,” Meri said when she’d finally calmed enough to speak.

  “Why do you think I keep patching it up?”

  “I’m s-sorry,” Meri spluttered, launching into fresh gales of mirth, “but when you c-called it S-Supper, I thought—”

  “I know what you thought.” He chuckled, tears coming to his eyes. “You thought I was telling her to cook it, eat it and be done with it.”

  “S-Supper.” She giggled. “What a name!”

  He’d never had anyone to share this with before Meredith. It felt good to laugh about something as silly as a rooster named Supper.

  In fact, life felt pretty good right now—and downright scary, especially if it meant that he was falling in love. The thought of loving again terrified him, but the life he’d been living didn’t pay homage to anyone, least of all the last woman he’d loved.

  What was the point of living at all if he couldn’t be man enough to face down his fears, to take a new risk?

  Sobering, he blew out a breath and caught Meri by the hand. He tried to think how to say it, how to tell her what he wanted. In the end, he just looked her in the eye and put it as straight as he knew how.

  “I really want to kiss you.”

  She stepped closer, turned up her face and softly said, “Please do.”

  His hand shook as he again lightly cupped her cheek. Her eyelashes, a rosy shade of gold, sparkled with the tears she’d shed in her laughter. Eyes like ovals plucked from a clear sky smiled up at him. She had a perfect nose, skin like porcelain, the whitest teeth and wide, plump, pink lips. Such beauty. Had he really ignored this in the beginning?

  It had been so long since he’d kissed a woman, but he couldn’t remember ever wanting a kiss more. Bending his head, he gently pressed his lips to hers and felt the tiny quakes in them that might have been nerves or enjoyment on her part. Mindful of all she’d been through, unwilling to frighten or threaten her in any way, he kept every touch as gentle as possible.

  Then she thrilled him when her arms slid around his waist. He settled his hands on her slender shoulders before sliding them down to cover her back. She felt so small, so petite, but so womanly. For the first time in far too long he felt like a whole man.

  The phone rang, pulling them apart. Meredith turned her head, looking to the desk.

  “So much for breakfast.”

  “I still have a little while yet,” he said softly, moving toward the desk. “You tend to breakfast. I’ll get the phone.”

  Nodding, she reached for her coat at the same time Stark reached for the phone.

  “War Bonnet Veterinary,” he said into the mouthpiece, watching her head out to her car for the breakfast makings. He listened with one ear to the farmer on the end of the line while his mind churned with other possibilities.

  He knew now that it wasn’t all in his fevered mind. She felt it, too, this thing growing between them. So, he had a decision to make. He just wasn’t sure that he had the courage to choose what he really wanted. A second loss would destroy him. He’d thought the first one had. How could he love another woman and face the prospect of losing her?

  It was one thing to feel like this, another to lose the source of those feelings. He wasn’t sure he could do it. He wasn’t sure he should do it.

  Yet, that moment when her arms had come around him while he kissed her was going to stay with him forever.

  Maybe that was all he was meant to have. Either way, he would be sure to thank God for it.

  * * *

  The day seemed made for dreaming. Stark’s little room was becoming crowded with all the kitchen goods she’d encouraged him to bring in, but at least he was beginning to live like a normal human being. And that kiss! She hadn’t imagined the pull between them or the little ways in which he touched her. He was laughing more, too, and he hadn’t been angry in days. She hadn’t realized before how kind and caring he could be, even with ridiculous old roosters that picked fights with cats and the softhearted old ladies who loved them. She wondered if he realized that he’d kissed her cheek as he’d rushed out that morning, still munching bacon.

  Tingling with possibilities, she shamelessly indulged in all sorts of daydreams: her and Stark driving into Ardmore for movies, to the lake for picnics, over to the houses of friends and family for parties, sitting together in church, working together like a perfectly functioning team, kissing and holding each other tight. She felt seventeen again, but this time the boy she liked actually noticed her.

  To make her world a perfect place, her father’s tests had shown no discernible cancer. Meredith felt as if she could truly breathe again, as if the world was once more rife with hope and possibility. It would take time, of course. Five years of such tests must pass before her dad could be pronounced cured, but why be discouraged? She didn’t kid herself that Stark was ready for anything more than dating at this point, either.

  In the end, he just might decide that she wasn’t the girl for him. Being the woman in whom he was interested now and the woman with whom he ultimately wound up were two very different propositions. Besides, she had determined to think of what was best for him and trust God to take care of her. She could hope, though, and she did.

  How could she feel his hand on her face and the power of his kiss and not hope? She allowed herself to dream that hope all the way up to quitting time. Then she switched the call forwarding to Stark’s cell phone and locked the doors.

  Just as she reached for her coat, though, the phone rang. She waited for Stark to pick up, in case he then had instructions for her. Better to take them here than on the road. He didn’t pick up the call, though. Instead, it went to voice mail, which rerouted it back to the office phone. She saw the light come on the console and rushed over to snatch up the receiver, cutting off the recorded message.

  “This is Meredith at War Bonnet Veterinary Services. How can I help you?”

  “Meredith did you say?” a man’s voice asked with obvious surprise.

  “Yes, sir. How may I help?”

  “Is this an answering service by c
hance?”

  “No, sir. I’m Dr. Burns’s assistant.”

  “Really?” Now the man sounded downright chipper. “Meredith, you’ve just made my day. This is Dr. Burns’s father. Perhaps you have a moment to talk.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dropping down onto the desk chair, Meredith tried to recall what Stark had said about his family. Not much. There had been something about a monthlong Thanksgiving tradition and his father being a coach. She remembered that he had two sisters and a brother, all younger than him, and that he was originally from Tulsa, which was where the accident had occurred that had taken the lives of his wife and daughter. That was about it. She certainly didn’t remember anything negative or hurtful about them.

  “I guess that would be all right,” she said in reply to Stark’s father’s request for conversation.

  The man on the other end of the telephone line introduced himself as Marvin Burns. “My wife, Andi, and I didn’t even know Stark had hired help.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve been here a few weeks.”

  “I’d say that’s a step in the right direction. Maybe Stark will at least get our messages now.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “To tell you the truth,” Marvin Burns said, “I suspect he’s been getting them all along. He just ignores them.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s not so,” Meri lied smoothly, quite sure that Marvin Burns was right. “Stark, er, Dr. Burns is very busy, you know. Very busy.”

  “Hmm. I don’t doubt it. Too busy for church or friends, I imagine.”

  Meredith winced, hearing the concern in the man’s voice, and said the first thing that came into her head. “Actually, he was in church on Wednesday night.”