Safe At Home

“I was born and raised on a dirt farm,” she continued. “Work doesn’t scare me. Besides that, I can type eighty words a minute, I can keep books, I can scrub floors, and I know how to use a computer.”

“Whoa!” Pete said.

“Honey,” Mace said gently from behind her back, “where were you coming from last night when you found Baby over there?”

“From work. I work the four-to-midnight shift as the assistant manager of the Food Farm.”

“Uh-huh. So you’re already commuting to town for an eight-hour day—or night. And Bryson’s Hollow is farmland, so you’re probably working a farm, at least part of the year. If you’re Irene Newsome’s daughter-in-law, I know you’re also a mother, without a husband to take up the slack. You plan to sleep sometime in the next century?”

Tala’s face flushed dark brick red. “We let the whole farm go fallow, so I’m not working the land. It never was much good for crops anyway—too hilly. Even Mr. and Mrs. Bryson gave up and moved to Florida a few years ago, although I don’t think they can bring themselves to sell the land their family settled in the 1700s. I can work a second job easy. I don’t need much sleep so long as I can spend the weekend with my kids—that’s not negotiable.”

“During the week?”

“They’re staying in town with their grandmother and great-grandmother.”

“Your kids aren’t with you?” Pete asked. He heard the disapproval in his voice. From the way her head snapped around and her chin went up, he knew she’d heard it, too.

“My boy is eight, makes honor roll, and already plays Pop Warner football in the fall and baseball in the spring. And my daughter is thirteen and into cheerleading and gymnastics. I can’t get them to all their practices and games and still work every night.” She shrugged. “Besides, Rachel hates the country, especially since…” She took a deep breath. “Her daddy died.”

“Still…”

“That’s the way it works out best for us, Dr. Jacobi.”

“I’m sure it is the best possible solution for the moment,” Mace said, darting an annoyed glance at his son. “But nobody can work all the time. A young woman should not be driving home by herself in a sleet storm after one o’clock in the morning. How much do they pay you at that Farm place?”

“Eight dollars an hour,” Tala whispered.

Pete closed his eyes. Not much. He wondered why she wasn’t getting some sort of pension from her husband’s death. At least she should have social security for the kids, food stamps, maybe ADC. She ought to be able to keep her children at home. But not if she had to leave them alone from before four in the afternoon until two in the morning.

“Fine. Then you come to work for us, and we’ll match your salary plus ten percent,” Mace said.

Pete gaped at him. “Mace, the money we’ve got is for the next elephant. We can’t afford—”

“Oh, yes, we can. I can, that is. Actually, m’dear, you’re cheap at the price. We expect you to get out enough fund-raising letters on that computer to more than pay your way.”

“Wait a minute, Dad. We can barely afford health insurance for ourselves, much less for an entire family.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Tala smiled at him. “We still have Adam’s insurance. The kids are covered until they’re eighteen, and I’m covered until I go on Medicare.”

Mace walked over and took both her hands. “You would make an old man very happy indeed if you’d take our job and quit working until all hours of the morning. I promise you the hours here will give you much more time for after-school activities with your children.”

Inwardly, Pete groaned. He did not need or want anyone underfoot, certainly not this woman who gave him urges he’d been quashing. He didn’t have time for urges.

Suddenly, all three elephants lifted their trunks and trumpeted. Everyone jumped. Tala looked up at them and laughed that glorious glittery laugh once more. “They know, don’t they?” she said to Mace.

“Of course, m’dear, they know everything.” Mace dropped his arm across Tala’s shoulders. “And obviously they approve. Now, it’s time for my world-famous pancakes. We have to put some meat on those bones. Coming, Pete?”

Pete watched as Mace helped Tala on with her parka and ushered her out into the frigid, but blessedly sunny, morning. Instantly, the girls swung away from their bars and walked purposefully toward the door to their enclosure that led out to the pastures beyond. They were going outside to meet Tala at close quarters.

He closed his eyes. What he felt was envy. She had a quality that endeared her to animals and people alike. Mace was no pushover, yet here he was simpering away like Maurice Chevalier.

And here Pete was once more—odd man out, even when it came to his very own elephants.

“Blast it, they’ll scare her half to death,” he swore and trotted out the door.

“AH, GLORIOUS MORNING,” Mace Jacobi said, linking Tala’s arm through his. “The roads should be completely dry in another hour.”

Tala started to reply, then noticed that the girls had silently meandered up behind her. How could they be so huge yet move so quietly?

She turned and caught her breath. Without bars, and in direct sunlight, she realized how monumental they were. She shaded her eyes with her hands, stared up at them and gulped. Mace patted her arm.

“Just checking you out, m’dear,” he said, and walked on. “They’ve already said they approve.”

Tala squared her shoulders and followed him, expecting any moment to feel the thud of a trunk on the top of her head. When they reached the steps of Mace’s trailer, however, she turned to see that the girls hadn’t moved, but were swaying back and forth in unison like overweight chorus girls. She smiled and waved at them, then followed Mace inside.

“Let me take your coat,” he said. “And how do you like your coffee?”

“Black, please.”

“You should have cream and sugar, but we’ll make up for that. The pancake batter is already in the refrigerator. I simply have to pour and flip. Please sit down. It’s cramped, I know, but I don’t normally have company, certainly not so beautiful nor so early.”

How could anyone be afraid of this man? Tala thought. He was as courtly as a knight, unlike his grumpy son. Her breath quickened as the face of that son rose up unbidden behind her eyes. He was nearly as big as the elephants, and a good deal scarier. “I don’t think Dr. Jacobi wants me here,” she said as she reached for the cup of steaming coffee Mace handed to her.

“I am Dr. Jacobi, and I do want you here. Besides, don’t let Pete fool you. We can well afford it. We desperately need the help. I’m not making that up.”

Suddenly he sounded formidable indeed. This must be the man who terrified vet students. “I don’t want to cause trouble,” she said in a small voice.

“Nonsense! You are just what my stubborn son needs. He’s turning into a hermit, and an ill-tempered one at that. Been too long since he had to deal with human beings. Animals don’t talk back, although the girls give a very close approximation when they’re pissed.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Human beings, I mean.”

He glanced at her. “Long story, and not mine to tell. Ask him when you know him a little better.”

The door opened at that moment, and the object of their conversation ducked to avoid smacking his head on the lintel. Suddenly the trailer seemed tiny.

Tala squeezed into her corner. Adam hadn’t been but a couple of inches taller than she, and slightly built, although muscular. She’d always felt comfortable with him, with his even temperament. The children took after him physically—slight, well-coordinated and athletic. Temperamentally they were more like Tala’s Cherokee grandmother, especially Rachel, who was anything but calm.

This man looked as though he could wrestle one of those elephants to the ground if he had to. And he seemed to have the nasty temperament of her granddaddy’s Jersey bull. What was his problem, for heaven’s sake?

She moved over even more to give him as much room as she could, and held her body as tight as possible. She heard the sizzle of pancake batter hitting hot fat and smelled the luscious aroma of pancakes—with something else. “Do you add vanilla?” she asked Mace.

“Ah, the girl has a good nose.”

“Not an asset around here,” Pete said. “There are times when the odors of wet hay, wet elephant and wet elephant droppings can peel paint.”

He was obviously trying to discourage her. “No worse than chickens,” she said. “Or pigs. And piles probably not much larger than a full-grown cow’s. I’ve cleaned up after all of those. And then, of course, there are babies. After two kids’ worth of dirty diapers, bad smells don’t bother me much.”

“That, m’dear, is something about which my son knows nothing whatsoever,” Mace said as he flipped the first saucer-size pancake expertly onto a plate.

Tala glanced at Pete. For some reason his father’s remark seemed to annoy him a lot more than it should have. Was this another bone of contention between them? Pete hadn’t made Mace a grandfather?

“Here you go, m’dear,” Mace said, and sat a short stack of steaming pancakes in front of her, followed in quick succession by a small collection of jugs and jars, and a butter dish. “Maple syrup, plain syrup, honey, blackberry syrup. Take your pick.” He beamed at her.

“This is too much. Dr. Jacobi, wouldn’t you like to take this one?”

“That’s about a quarter of what Pete puts away. His are coming up, and mine thereafter. The only problem with pancakes is that they require baby-sitting.”

Tala stopped in midpour. “Oh, God, can I use your phone?”

“Of course.” Mace looked puzzled. Pete stood and pressed his big body against the far wall so that she could squeeze through.

“Phone’s in my bedroom,” Mace said. “It’s set on intercom at the moment. Just punch one of the buttons. You’ll get a dial tone.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll keep your pancakes hot for you.”

Mace’s bedroom was as spartan as a monk’s cell and spotlessly clean. She picked up the telephone and punched a button, then dialed. The phone was answered on the first ring. “Irene?” she asked.

“Good Lord, Tala! Where on earth have you been? I’ve been calling your house since seven this morning. Ten more minutes and I was going to send Sheriff Craig to find out if you’d gone over the side of a cliff in the ice.”

“I’m so sorry, Irene. I meant to check in earlier.”

“Your phone out of order? I swear, Tala, Vertie and I have been frantic what with the sleet and all.”

“And the children?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell them I couldn’t reach you. They’ve had enough to worry about. The school finally decided to operate today. Two flakes, and they usually slam the doors. Wasn’t a bit like that when I was growing up. We went to school rain, sleet or snow.”

Tala relaxed. At least Rachel and Cody weren’t worried about her. Since Adam’s death, Rachel acted as though she never gave her mother a thought, but Cody worried constantly. Maybe Rachel worried as well, but she’d never let Tala know.

In the background she heard, “Has Miss Tala deigned to call at last? Give me that phone!”

A moment later Tala grinned at Vertie’s tone. “Why on earth do you think God gave us the telephone if not to keep in touch with our loved ones?”

“I’ve already apologized to Irene,” Tala said.

“Won’t do. My daughter-in-law forgives folks too easily. Apologize to me this instant, or I will drive myself out there personally and snatch you bald-headed, young lady.”

“Yes’m. I apologize.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“You drove off into the sleet at midnight and disappeared off the face of the earth. Is your phone dead? Did you have an accident?”

“No. I’m fine. I meant to come by this morning and have breakfast with all of you, but I slept a whole lot later than I planned. I’ll come by this afternoon on my way to work and tell you about it. If that’s all right,” she added.

“All right? It’s an order.”

After the usual pleasantries and a good deal of fending off questions, Tala hung up the phone. She was so lucky to have in-laws she adored and who adored her.

She felt her eyes well with tears. If not for Irene and Vertie, she’d never have survived Adam’s death. Couldn’t survive now, for that matter. But she had to aim for independence. As Tala had told the Jacobis, she was not afraid of hard work. And she was definitely not the type to turn into a white-gloved young matron drinking tea and eating sugar cookies.

Not that Vertie ever wore white gloves. Her grand-mother-in-law was more likely to be found in jeans, cowboy boots and a Stetson driving that Jeep of hers down the side of a mountain. Irene and Vertie were as different as could be, but somehow mother-in-law and daughter-in-law managed to scrape along in relative harmony in that big old Newsome mansion. Probably because Vertie spent most of her time traveling the world.

Tala had no intention of becoming the third-generation Newsome widow in that house. Not if she had to clerk at the Food Farm until she died.

Or spend the next twenty years shoveling elephant dung.

CHAPTER THREE

“IT’LL TAKE ME a couple of hours to pick up the stuff for the lion cage at the co-op and drive back out here,” Tala said an hour later as she was about to get into her truck. “And I need to stop by my in-laws’. Maybe I can see my kids after school. Is that all right? I can hardly wait to tell everybody about Baby.”

“You can’t mention Baby to anyone, Tala.” Pete’s voice was gruff.

“But—”

“The minute you tell even one person, the story’ll be all over town. Next thing you know, we’ll have the sheriff and the Wildlife people banging on the front gate with a search warrant.”

“I’ll swear them to secrecy,” she said, but her voice had dropped. She sighed as he simply stood and looked at her. After a moment, she said, “Of course you’re right. But what am I going to tell everybody about why I spent the night here?”

“Tell them your car got stuck. Tell them you had a flat tire. But whatever you do, and I can’t emphasize this enough, do not tell them about Baby. Promise?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

“Besides, if we’re actually going to do this crazy thing, build a lion cage, I need to come with you to make sure you get everything on the list. You got no business picking all that stuff up.”

“Oh, they’ll load it for me. And they won’t question what I need it for. When Ad…when my husband was alive, we were always doing things to fix up the farm. They’ll just assume I’ve gotten up enough gumption to start another project. If you come along, it’ll be all over town in thirty minutes.”

“Why?”

Tala grinned at him. “Because you people are considered deeply weird, Dr. Jacobi. Elephants in the middle of Hollendale County? Haven’t you ever lived in a small town?”

“Yes, but it was a small college town. You call my father Mace. How come you keep calling me Dr. Jacobi?”

Tala wanted to say because he made her uncomfortable, but she didn’t. She merely ducked her head, whispered, “Okay—Pete,” and climbed into her truck.

“Hey, wait a minute.” He laid a large hand on the open windowsill. “You taking the job or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“The Food Farm isn’t likely to go out of business or fire you in the near future. That’s a mark in their favor.” He heaved a sigh. “But we’re not going anywhere either. I guess we could use somebody like you around here.”

She stared at him, then without a word put her truck in gear and drove off.

Talk about grudging! she thought. Mace must have told him what to say. And he was right. The Food Farm wasn’t a piece of cake, but at least it was steady and secure. And indoors. She had to admit, she really couldn’t handle working at the sanctuary and at the Food Farm. She’d have to choose one or the other. And this paid more.

If she could work from seven in the morning until three in the afternoon, she could actually pick the kids up from school, attend their practices, be a real mother for a change.

And maybe she could explain to them in a way they’d understand that she still owed Adam a debt.

PETE THRUST HIS HANDS into his pockets hard enough to burst the seams and stared after her truck. He heard a stamp and turned to find Sweetiepie staring at him from about twenty feet away. The other two elephants had apparently departed for the woods at the back of their fifty-acre pasture. They were already invisible in the underbrush and might not surface again until it was time for their evening hay.

“So, what are you waiting for?” he asked.

Sweetiepie swished her trunk, lifted it and opened her mouth.

“Man, are you spoiled.” He sauntered over, reached up and began to scratch her tongue. She sighed in ecstasy. “How come I can do this all day and you don’t pat me on the head?”

She ignored him, merely closed her eyes and shifted her feet.

“What’s she got that I haven’t? Other than enough hair to stuff a mattress and a pair of legs that belong in a Vegas chorus line?” He stopped scratching for a moment. Sweetiepie nudged him gently. “Okay, okay. It’s cold out here, you know, and your tongue is not exactly velvet. As if you cared.”

Sweetiepie closed her mouth and swung away. “Thank you very much, Pete,” he called after her. She ignored him.

He never ceased to enjoy watching them move. From the back, Sweetiepie looked as though she were wearing baggy gray underwear. Without any evidence of speed, she covered an enormous amount of ground. He’d be willing to bet Tala would laugh that great laugh of hers the first time she saw them take off for the boonies. The thought gave him a glow that surprised him.

At that moment Baby roared. So now he had a wounded big cat to look after as well as a woman that couldn’t even look after her own children, but had the strength and guts to drag wild animals into her truck in the middle of the night. What kind of woman was she?

A woman with big dark eyes who stirred his blood.

He found Baby sitting up in her cage with her bad leg held off the ground. As he watched, she roared again, then began to pant in obvious discomfort. He expected her to be in some pain, even with the drugs, but she could have developed an infection in the wound. That would be extremely bad news.

He’d become a vet partly to gain his father’s approval, but mostly because he hated watching animals suffer. He knelt beside the lion’s pen, and pressed his hand against the steel mesh, ready to pull it away if she snapped at him.

Thank God her shoulder felt cool. She reached around and licked the wound with a tongue that he knew was rough enough to rip the skin off his hand. “It’s okay, Baby,” he whispered. “I’ll make it better.”

He found a syringe, filled it, jammed it into the muscle of her rump and thrust the plunger home before she realized what was happening. When she did, she tore the syringe from his grasp and shook it free on the floor of the cage.

Great. Now he’d have to wait until the drug took effect, then get it out safely. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was that hurt animals didn’t often appreciate or cooperate with his efforts.

“GO FOR IT, I say.” Vertie Newsome raised her glass of iced tea and took a deep swig.

“I swear, you’d tell her to go for it if she were planning to bungee-jump off the Grand Canyon,” Irene Newsome said. “She can’t seriously consider taking a job working out there alone with those men and a herd of wild elephants.”

“Sure she can,” Vertie said. “If I was twenty years younger, I’d go for that Mace myself. Do you good to get mixed up with a man again, Tala. It’s been over a year.”

“Vertilene Newsome, I swear!” Irene said.

Tala leaned back against the down cushions on the white wicker love seat and sipped her hot spiced tea from one of Irene’s antique Belleek cups. Normally she enjoyed watching the sparring matches between her in-laws, but today she was just too tired. Besides, she needed to drive the fencing and cement sacks in the back of her truck to the sanctuary soon, so she’d have time to go home to bathe and change before her shift at the Food Farm.

She’d given the women a truncated version of her adventure in the sleet, but had changed her encounter with Baby to windshield wipers that had ceased to function outside the gates to the sanctuary.

“Of course, if I were you, Tala, I’d go for the younger one. Man, is he a major stud muffin.” Vertie smacked her lips. “I always like a real big man.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

One look at Irene’s scandalized face sent Tala into gales of laughter.

“Tala, you cannot take that job,” Irene said. “Think what people would say.”

“I’ve never much cared about that in the past.”

“That was because you had Adam behind you,” her mother-in-law told her. “Now you are a single mother with two children, honey. And whether you care about your reputation or not, they certainly do. Rachel especially. She’s right at that age where she wants to fit in. I really don’t understand why you won’t move in here with us. It’s not like you couldn’t have your own suite of rooms. You could come and go whenever you wanted.” She paused for a moment, then added, “With Lucinda in the kitchen, I know you’d put on a few pounds, and you’d see so much more of the children. You deserve the money Adam’s daddy took away from him when he decided to become a warden instead of a banker. I wish you’d let me give you at least a little money, make things a little easier for you.”

“We’ve been over all that before, Irene,” Tala said. She tried to keep her voice level, but she was so tired, she heard the edge of exasperation creep in. “Mr. Newsome left that money in trust for his grandchildren for when they went to college or wanted to start their own families. He didn’t want you to give Adam or me a penny. Adam refused to take anything from you, and I have to abide by his wishes. The children aren’t suffering, Lord knows, and I’m doing just fine. I promise you.”

“But it’s so unfair,” Irene said. “I know Hollis would have come around in time, when he saw how happy you made Adam. If he just hadn’t had his stroke so soon…I could make you an allowance and never even notice the money was gone.”

Tala covered Irene’s small hand with hers. “You’re spending a ton on the kids as it is, and I am more grateful than you’ll ever know. They need so much I can’t give them.”

“But with an allowance, you could quit your job, go back to school. It would be so easy…” Irene’s voice trailed off helplessly.

Tala leaned back. “I know it must seem crazy to you, Irene. It would be easy to let you spoil me rotten and make all the decisions the way Adam used to, but if I’m ever going to stand on my own feet, I have to start somewhere and just keep going until I get there—wherever there is.”

Vertie patted her knee. “Hush, Irene. She’s right. We are here to do what we can when we can, and for as long as we can. But it’s Tala’s life, and she’s got a darned sight more of it left to live. So if she wants to bungee-jump off the Grand Canyon, then I do say go for it.”

“And the first warm day you’ll fly off to Nepal or Bali and leave me to handle the town gossip,” Irene snapped, then looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Vertie, that was uncalled-for.”

“But true. All right, I promise. I will stick around at least until June when the kids are out of school. Then I’ll drag both of them off somewhere for the summer. Tala and you, too, if you’ll come.”

“Oh, no. I belong here.” Irene reached across and laid her fine-boned hand with its sprinkling of liver spots and beautifully manicured pink nails on Tala’s knee. “Do what you have to, dear. It would be marvelous for you to have the afternoons free. The children miss you at their practices. Vertie and I are a poor substitute.”

“You’d never know Rachel misses me,” Tala said. “She wishes I were the one going off to Nepal.”

“She’s just going through a bad time since Adam…died,” Irene said.