Sasha's Dad

“How about you continue to take care of him and I’ll tend to the mother, okay?”

It was worded as the question it wasn’t. At least that hadn’t changed about him.

Claire massaged the cria, relieved that he seemed content to stay in the warmth of the barn and not run about in the freezing weather.

“I was worried about the temperature all day. I’ve been checking on Stormy every hour on the hour since late yesterday afternoon. I know llamas won’t birth in bad weather if they can help it.”

Dutch didn’t reply. Maybe he hadn’t heard her, since his concentration was focused on Stormy.

“Easy, girl. That’s it.” His tone was gentle yet persuasive, the perfect blend of coach and drill sergeant. Claire wondered if he’d used the same tone when Natalie gave birth to their child.

The wave of guilt at the memory of Natalie grabbed her by the throat and she coughed to cover the groan that rose up in her.

“Come over here and watch this.”

Claire didn’t miss that he didn’t say her name.

As she watched, Dutch eased out the second cria as though he delivered breech babies all the time. He was sweating; she saw the stains under his arms. But his breathing remained steady and there was no strain in his expression. His eyes met hers for the briefest moment, and she saw a tiny flicker in their indigo depths. Of hope? Joy?

Dutch had wanted to be a vet since they were kids. He’d saved as many creatures as the Dobinsky brothers had pulled the tails off, including her beloved lizard.

“Here it is.” Dutch finished delivering the second cria, but it was clear to her that this baby llama wasn’t going to have as easy a time as his twin. It was much smaller and shivered constantly.

“It’s a girl,” Dutch murmured. “Blanket?” He reached out a gloved hand toward Claire.

She passed him one of the many clean blankets and towels she’d stacked for this occasion. He swaddled the cria and walked it to the heater. Claire held her breath as Dutch listened through his stethoscope. She stared at his face for the slightest clue.

He removed the stethoscope from his ears and kept massaging the cria. It almost seemed too rough as far as Claire was concerned, but he was the vet. She wasn’t even a llama farmer by most standards, not yet. This birth was supposed to be her stepping stone into the professional status she longed for. A breeder couldn’t call herself a breeder until her animals actually had off-spring.

And she’d failed.

“She’s breathing. We won’t know for a bit if she’s going to make it.” Dutch’s voice was reserved, even with the grimness running through it. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, or so she assumed—until she reminded herself that her welfare wouldn’t be high in Dutch’s priorities.

“What about Stormy?”

Claire kept her hand on Stormy’s side as she spoke, as if by touch she could preserve the dam’s will to live.

“Let me look at her. Here, come and rub this cria. Don’t stop. I’ll check her out.”

While Claire rubbed the tiny llama, and occasionally patted its older sibling, she agonized over her stupidity. It was one thing to want to claim her farm, her business, for herself. It was quite another to put Stormy at risk.

If only she’d recognized Stormy’s distress earlier last night. She’d assumed it was going to be a regular birth, just earlier than Charlie had predicted.

Stormy was more than a resource to her. She was Claire’s hope for a new future. A future that was free of the pressures of the political life she’d left behind. Free of the constant drone of the newsroom and the stress of breaking the next story.

With a start Claire realized she was perspiring more profusely than she ever had while working in the press corps. Stormy and all the rest of her llamas had at some point become more than animals to her. They were embedded in her heart.

Yet another reason to regret her decision, which had led to danger for Stormy and the two crias.

Waiting for Dutch to finish dealing with Stormy stretched Claire’s anxiety to the max.

“How is she?” Claire asked the top of his silver mane. That was all she had in her line of vision.

“Shh.” Dutch’s admonition cut across the stable.

Claire kept rubbing the baby and decided to focus on naming the twins. They would both make it. They had to.

After what seemed like hours, but in reality wasn’t more than twenty minutes, Dutch snapped off his gloves.

He made direct eye contact with Claire, and she squirmed at the intensity of his gaze. But it wasn’t about her, or her and Dutch. It was about Stormy.

“She’s okay for now. Her uterus is intact and the afterbirth looked normal, which is a positive sign.” Dutch shook his head. “However, she’s had a huge shock to her system. She won’t be out of the woods for a day or so. I’m going to start her on IV antibiotics as a precaution.”

“Is there any way to avoid the stronger medications? She’s still young and I really don’t like—”

“No, there is no other option—you made sure of that when you took this birthing on yourself. Llamas, livestock—” Dutch waved his hand around her barn “—aren’t pets, Claire. They’re domestic animals who serve a good purpose and need to be respected as such. They weren’t put here for your entertainment.”

His emotional sucker punch echoed Claire’s own thoughts and drove the taste of bile into the back of her throat.

“This isn’t entertainment for me, Dutch. These are my animals, my vocation.”

She hated the electricity that quaked between them, even as they faced each other in total disgust, ignoring any remembrance of their past relationship.

“You’ve never been one for commitment. Is this something else to throw away when you grow tired of it?”

Her mind finished the observation: The way you threw away your best friend? Your hometown?

As soon as he fired the words at her and before Claire could reply, Dutch looked down.

“Damn it all to hell.” He slapped the OB gloves against his thigh. After a few deep breaths, he looked back up at her.

“This has nothing to do with you, or me or our past, Claire. It has to do with your llama. If you want her to live, you need to follow my directions implicitly.”

“I’m sorry—”

He held up his hand. “I’ll help you until Charlie gets back—or your animals are healthy. That’s it.” He nodded at the firstborn cria. “He’s doing okay, so I’m comfortable leaving him here. But the one you’re holding—I’d rather take her back to my office to monitor.”

“That could kill the mother!” Claire clutched the tiny cria as if it were her own child.

Dutch sighed. “I know. And we’re shorthanded in town for the next week as far as vets go. I’ll set up what you need for a llama preemie clinic right here and show you how to use the equipment. I’ll drop by frequently, and you can call me anytime you need help.”

He had her in the grip of his stare and she watched as his lips flattened into a thin line. “I know there was little reason for you or Charlie to expect twins—this was a rare instance for a llama birth.”

He looked back at her. “No more doing anything with regard to your animals on your own. You’re not a vet. Got it?”

Claire swallowed, but kept her mouth shut and nodded.

His gaze didn’t waver from her face.

“Let’s get something straight. We don’t talk about our lives now, or before or whenever. Nothing personal.”

“Right. Nothing personal.” What else was she going to say to the man she’d hurt more than anyone—other than his dead wife?

CHAPTER TWO

SASHA LOOKED at her fairy alarm clock. Fifteen minutes until the fairy’s wand hit the twelve and the alarm rang at six sharp. She reached under her bed for her cell phone to see if her best friend, Maddie, had texted her yet. They always checked to see if the other would be at the bus stop.

Her fingers brushed against a familiar organza cloth cover. The big red book.

The big red book was more of an album. It sat in a large, paper-covered box. Her mom had put it together for her before she died. When she gave Sasha the gift, Sasha was only eight. Mom had told her that someday it would help her smile and remember how much Mom loved her.

Sasha kept the box under her bed, but hadn’t opened it in a while. She’d opened it a lot those first few months, that first horrible year. But since her eleventh birthday last year she hadn’t looked at it as often. She still had the last photograph taken of her and Mom on her bulletin board and she looked at that every day.

In the photograph, Sasha sat on the bed next to Mom, whose head was bald, her eyes dark in her pale face. Sometimes the longing overwhelmed Sasha and she cried. But not so much anymore. She would never forget Mom, but as the years went by she was more comfortable with thinking about Mom in heaven, with no chemo, no sickness.

Sasha couldn’t remember a time that her mother hadn’t been sick. Maybe when she was really little, but pretty much since the end of kindergarten Mom had been seeing doctors all the time.

Sasha believed deep in her heart that Mom thought she and Dad should “move on” and get their lives going without worrying about what Mom would think. She wasn’t planning to ask Dad about this—he was too busy with the vet business and now he was worried because Aunt Ginny had to go away to law school and Sasha would be Without a Female Mentor.

A knock at her door startled her.

“Sasha, are you up? You have to take your shower now.”

Sasha glanced at her fairy alarm clock.

She’d stayed in bed ten minutes longer than usual.

“Okay, Aunt Ginny, I’m up.”

“YOU LOOK LIKE HELL.” Dottie Vasquez made the observation as she poured Dutch his third cup of coffee.

“We can’t all look as good as you at six in the morning.” He mustered a smile for the woman who owned the diner. Dottie was his mother’s age, but had the spirit of a teenager.

She smiled back at him. “No, but I’ve seen you looking better, Dutch.” She put the coffeepot on the burner, then returned to chat. The breakfast rush was over for the early farmers, and she had a few minutes’ rest before the next wave of customers came in. Dutch knew this was what Dottie liked more than serving coffee or food to hungry people. She liked to talk—and to listen.

“Word is, the lights were on at the Llama Haven all night.”

Dutch met Dottie’s blue eyes, still bright even surrounded by crow’s-feet. “I swear, Dot, I hope the U.S. government knows where to come when they need information about anything. Do you ever miss a beat?”

His banter didn’t distract Dottie.

“With Charlie and Missy out of town,” she said, referring to the other vet and his wife, “I figured you were over there tending to a birth. Does Dovetail have a new baby llama?”

“As a matter of fact, it has two.” He sipped his coffee. He usually had one or two cups in the morning—his work gave him enough of a jump start. But today he’d needed more.

“Twins?” Dottie’s eyebrows rose and her next question formed on her lips but the diner door flew open and a crowd of truckers tumbled in.

“Hold that thought, Dutch. I want the details.”

Dottie got the crew settled. After she’d put her top waitress on the job, she came back to the counter. Dutch considered using the opportunity to escape, but didn’t. Dottie was harmless and had listened to many of his woes over the years. She was nice to Sasha, too.

But she didn’t sit down next to him again. The diner was hopping with hungry customers.

“Twins?”

Dutch stood and met her gaze. “Yeah, twins—and I’m not sure the little one’s going to make it. I need to get back out there and check up on her.”

“I imagine it’s easier for you and Claire to get along when you both have something to focus on.”

Dottie didn’t have to explain. Dutch knew.

Other than yourselves, your history.

He shrugged on his coat, pulled out his wallet.

“Exactly.” He put down the money, as always with a generous tip. Dutch appreciated being able to stay in a small town and raise his daughter here, and he was more than willing to pay for it. He knew Dottie had lost business since they put in that big national franchise breakfast place off the highway, but she’d kept her prices reasonable and still served the best coffee this side of Chesapeake Bay.

“See you later, Dot.”

“See you.”

Dutch walked out into the parking lot and looked up at the sky. There was nothing like a Maryland sunrise, and today’s had been no exception. The last remaining streaks of pink and purple faded into the clear sky, harbinger of another cold, windy day.

He got into the front seat of his truck and glanced at the clock as he switched on the ignition. If he was lucky he’d make it home in time to sit with Sasha through her breakfast.

Then he’d have to return to check on the cria. And face Claire’s wary green eyes, her hesitant behavior around him.

“Good. Keeps her on her toes,” he muttered to himself as he turned into his driveway.

“SASHA, TIME TO get out!” Sasha heard Aunt Ginny’s voice through the bathroom door and turned off the shower.

“Okay!” Sasha buried her face in her towel.

She was going to miss Aunt Ginny, who’d told Sasha last week that it was time for all of them to move on. Dutch was Aunt Ginny’s older brother, but she’d been like a big sister to him and Sasha these past few years.

At first, Sasha didn’t like it when Aunt Ginny had said their house felt like Mom was still here. Ginny had come to live with them toward the end of Natalie’s life, when hospice had taken over, and Sasha remembered spending lots of time with her aunt. But lately Sasha had started thinking maybe Aunt Ginny was right. Her friends whose parents were divorced had either bought new houses or fixed up their old ones. And they got new husbands or wives.

Daddy didn’t act as though he ever wanted a new wife, not even a girlfriend. He said he never wanted to forget Mom. Neither did Sasha.

But a new mom might not be so bad.

She had distinct memories of Mom and of her dying—the days Mom spent lying on the couch and on what Sasha knew was a hospital bed. But somehow Aunt Ginny had helped it not be too sad. Sasha remembered the times when no one could stop the sad stuff. Like when Mom had bad reactions to the medicine or when it got really close to the end and all she did was sleep. She seemed to fade away that last summer.

Sasha was so glad Aunt Ginny had stayed. She was going to miss her, but she was also looking forward to being alone with Dad. Whenever Aunt Ginny had to go to Baltimore or on trips with her study group, Sasha had liked the father-daughter time with Dad. Plus she loved being with him on his job. She loved animals at least as much as he did.

Sasha hurried down the stairs and hit the wide-plank pine flooring of the hallway. Rascal clipped along beside her, trying to herd her into the kitchen.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Aunt Ginny met her halfway and hugged her tight. Sasha was eleven, almost twelve, but never tired of Aunt Ginny’s hugs or kisses.

Aunt Ginny pulled back a bit and looked into Sasha’s eyes. Aunt Ginny had Dad’s deep blue eyes, which Sasha often wished she had, too. Instead, she’d inherited her Mom’s brown eyes, which Dad and Aunt Ginny told her were beautiful and she’d be grateful for when she got older.

“What?” She hated it when Aunt Ginny looked at her for too long.

“How are you today? Good?”

“Yeah.” Sasha squirmed out of Aunt Ginny’s arms and went over to the counter. Someone had cleaned it up and put all the appliances away.

“Where’s the toaster?” Aunt Ginny never put things back in the same place twice.

“Under the counter. I bought some cinnamon waffles yesterday.”

“Thanks!” Sasha loved it when Aunt Ginny did the grocery shopping. Dad was more practical and would’ve bought plain waffles or no waffles at all—just some regular bread for toasting.

Sasha saw all the thick books Aunt Ginny had on the breakfast counter.

“Are you still studying?” She thought Aunt Ginny’s exams were over.

“I’m reviewing. When I start law school, I’ll be expected to be on top of all these subjects.”

“Huh.” Sasha enjoyed school and homework, but didn’t know how adults stayed awake when they were reading such thick books with all that small type.

Aunt Ginny was almost done with her bachelor’s degree. She’d done it from Dovetail, going into College Park as needed. Dad said Aunt Ginny had made a Great Sacrifice for them. Now she had to go live in Baltimore and go to the university there for law school. She’d be leaving soon to attend a spring review class before courses started at the end of the summer.

“Where’s Daddy?” Sasha spread peanut butter on her waffle. Aunt Ginny had sat down with her coffee and books.

“He got a late-night call.”

As soon as the words were out, Rascal whimpered and ran to the kitchen door. Sasha heard the slam as her dad got out of his truck.

“Daddy!” Sasha went over to the door as Dutch opened it and jumped at him. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a hug.

“Hi, sweetheart. You smell like a bunch of flowers.” He tugged at Sasha’s still-damp hair.

“It’s the shampoo Aunt Ginny got for me last Christmas.”

“Is it?”

Sasha nodded, then finished making her breakfast. Dad looked tired—his eyes were deep in his face and the lines around them made him seem like he was squinting.

“What happened?” Aunt Ginny must have noticed, too.

“Twin llama birth. One’s fine, the mother will hopefully be okay, but I don’t know about the second one. She’s really small and it’s going to be touch and go for a few days.”

“Can I go see them with you?”

“No.” Dutch’s response was immediate and it hurt. She hated when he was like this.

“Well, excuse me.” She shoved a bite of waffle into her mouth.

She heard her dad sigh, then he walked back to her.

“I’m sorry, Sash.” He tousled her hair. “I’ve been up all night, and I haven’t had an easy time of it. Of course you can go see the llamas, but not today. Let’s give them all a chance to settle in, okay?”

“Sure.” Sasha took her waffle and sat on a stool at the counter. “Do you want a waffle, Daddy?”

“No, thanks, sugarplum. I ate at Dot’s, before you were even out of bed. But I’ll sit with you, if that’s okay.”

“Okay. Wait! Let me go get my essay that I’m handing in today. You can read it over for me.” Sasha ran up the back stairs to her room. She heard Aunt Ginny laugh at her excitement.

What were they going to do when Aunt Ginny wasn’t there to calm Dad down?

GINNY TURNED to Dutch, before Sasha bounded back into the kitchen.

“How’d it go?”

Dutch screwed up his face and frowned at his baby sister, who looked so innocent with her widened eyes and lifted brows. But he knew she wasn’t asking about the llamas, not really.

“Fine. Awful. I hated it. I’m glad I saved the twin and, I hope, the dam.” He stared down at the floor.

“I can’t look at that woman without remembering, without seeing the pain on Natalie’s face when her calls weren’t returned.”

“I know.” Ginny’s voice was soft. She’d seen it, too. Claire and Natalie had been closer than sisters through grade school and high school. The only thing that had ever come between them was a boy.

Dutch.

“I don’t get it, Ginny. How someone so smart can be so stupid, especially with her friend, her family.” He couldn’t believe he was sharing so much with Ginny, but he blamed it on exhaustion.

“Sounds like she’s learned something,” Ginny said, giving him a level gaze. “She quit the press corps when her mom got sick, helped her mother through her heart surgery, and she’s stayed here even though she doesn’t need to anymore. She’s serious about making a go of it, Dutch. It’s been two years already.”

“Trust me, Ginny, if Claire Renquist has stayed in Dovetail, or anywhere, it’s for her benefit and hers alone. Claire doesn’t do anything solely for others. That part of her died a long time ago.” He snorted.

If it ever existed.

Ginny laughed, but not with any hint of sarcasm.

“Do you want some lemon with those bitters? Jeeze, Dutch, let it go. Some people do change.”

He grunted. He wanted to say “not Claire” but Ginny had a point. He’d turned into a crusty old man at the age of thirty-four.

Ginny had been a kid when Dutch and Claire dated, and not much older when they broke up. Dutch had married Natalie right out of college. He’d only recently told Ginny that he and Natalie had a pregnancy scare way back in high school after that fateful night during senior year. The night that ended any remaining relationship he’d had with Claire and permanently ruined Natalie and Claire’s childhood bond.

“Look, Daddy.” Sasha, back downstairs, slid onto the stool next to Dutch. He read her essay with one arm around her. He loved the fact that she still snuggled close, their two heads bent over the paper, the comfortable intimacy between daughter and dad.

Dutch knew he needed to learn to be comfortable with other people, too. It was more than three years now—Natalie was at peace, and he wanted to find some peace for himself.

He looked up at Ginny as she watched him and Sasha. He could read her mind.

They’d been alone too long, he and Sasha.

“Don’t get any ideas, Ginny.” He tried to act as if he was focused on Sasha’s essay, but few knew him better than Ginny.

“What kind of ideas?” Sasha piped in.

“Matchmaking ideas, honey.” Ginny sipped her coffee. “Your dad’s worried I’ll try to set him up with someone.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Do you mean like on a date?” Sasha’s interested was piqued.

“This is adult conversation, Sasha.” Dutch stared hard at Ginny. He loved his kid sister, but she was like every other female when it came to romance.

She thought everyone needed it.

Ginny, of course, ignored him. “Yes, Sasha, like a date,” she said. “Your dad could benefit from adult female companionship.”

“Ginny!” Dutch growled, but the edge in his voice masked the nervous twist in his gut. What did he have to be anxious about? Ginny was the one acting weird.

“Don’t ‘Ginny’ me, Dutch. Sasha’s old enough to understand this conversation, aren’t you, honey?”

“Yup!” Sasha’s head bobbed enthusiastically. She looked sideways at Dutch. The female gleam in her eyes made him laugh in spite of himself.

“Aunt Ginny’s right, Dad. You need a woman.”

CHAPTER THREE

“SHE’S DOING as well as I could hope. It could still go either way, but she’s a tough gal, aren’t you, Stormy?”

Dutch patted the llama’s side and his voice lowered to a soft lilt. He kept his gaze on the llama. Claire’s breath caught.

Here was the Dutch she’d known as a teen. Caring, assured, comfortable with his intelligence and ability. She watched his hands stroke Stormy and couldn’t stop the memory of how those hands had felt on her when they were lovesick teenagers.

On that hot, breezy summer afternoon in Ocean City. When all that mattered was Dutch and the love they’d discovered, the love that went beyond their childhood friendship. When she knew she’d never love anyone as much as she loved him at that moment.

Dutch must have felt her stare just now as he looked up and their eyes met. She saw his recognition of her, not as the girl who’d run out of town, not as the woman who’d broken her best friend’s heart, but as Claire.

It was Dutch and Claire. That connection still seared her thoughts. Her awareness belied the notion that the energy between them was a mere relic of their past. Whatever their connection, it was real and alive. Today.

The heat between them caught her off guard.

Dutch blinked and she watched the immediate judgment flood back into his expression. How many layers of disgust toward her did he harbor?