“That’s normal,” Janie said. “I would say it’s part of the grieving process over your father, too. Allow yourself to feel, but don’t cross the line into dwelling on it.”
Abby knew Janie was right. Seeing patients with disabilities and traumatic injuries every day, she had learned to appreciate everything she had. One of her old professors used to say, “As long as you’re aboveground, there’s always a bright side.” Abby lived by those words. They were why she never allowed her patients to give up, even when they suffered a setback.
But one question had plagued Abby since she had received Walter’s note. Why would anyone keep her sister’s existence a secret?
* * *
CLAY PULLED HIS TRUCK into the Bed & Biscuit parking lot. He shut off the engine and sat with the keys in his hand. He swallowed drily. This was dinner to discuss Abby’s case, nothing more.
Then why did he need to keep reminding himself it wasn’t a date? Because he wanted it to be a date and that made him feel worse than his nerves did.
Clay was attracted to Abby more than he cared to admit. When her background check revealed she was a physical therapist, he’d been intrigued. He had figured her more the clothing-designer type. Or an art dealer, maybe. A physical therapist was completely unexpected.
He inhaled deeply in a vain attempt to steady his uneven pulse. Failing miserably, he climbed from his mud-caked truck, cursing himself for not washing it. He proceeded around to the front of the inn where Abby waited for him in one of the rocking chairs. The warmth of her smile was echoed in her eyes. She met him halfway down the stairs, and he once again wondered how she managed to remain upright in such high heels. She looked beautiful in an effortless way.
Clay hoped he had the sense to keep that opinion to himself. Abby was a client and he refused to cross that line.
You already have.
“Are you ready to go?” Clay’s voice broke. Abby’s eyes widened slightly, but fortunately she let it slide without comment. Clay hadn’t been remotely close to this nervous since the night he had proposed to Ana Rosa. A perpetual reminder that he couldn’t blur the lines between client and romance. Not that romance was on the table. He wouldn’t tarnish Ana Rosa’s memory by having a fling with Abby, or anyone else for that matter.
Abby faced the sidewalk. “Since it’s so beautiful out tonight, do you mind if we walk? It’s still beastly humid back home and I’m loving this Texas weather.”
“You want to walk to New China in those shoes?” Clay didn’t think she’d make it fifty feet, let alone all the way down Main Street.
“I assure you I’ll be fine. I’m quite capable of putting one foot in front of the other.”
“Don’t those things hurt your feet?” Clay opened the wrought-iron gate leading to the sidewalk and held it for Abby.
“Listen, I usually wear sneakers when I’m at work, and anything without a heel makes me feel like a twelve-year-old. Scratch that, most preteens are taller than I am. I wear heels so I can at least look like a grownup.”
“If you say so.” Clay found himself scrambling to keep up with her quick pace. “Are we race walking?”
Abby stopped and stared at him. “I’m sorry. I have to remind myself I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere while I’m here. My schedule is usually packed and I tend to run nonstop. I assume you completed my background search. Did I check out okay?”
Yes, you managed to check right into my every waking thought. “I was surprised to discover you’re a physical therapist.”
“What were you expecting...a personal shopper?” Abby teased. “Most people don’t peg me for a PT because of my size, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years working with my patients, the only limitations are within your heart. I may be small, but I can do anything I put my mind to.”
Clay admired Abby’s confidence. He wished some of it would rub off on him tonight because while she appeared composed, he was the exact opposite.
He’d worked undercover in dangerous sting operations and helped take down some of the country’s most dangerous criminals, all while managing to keep his nerves in check. Yet a simple walk with an attractive client left him jumpier than spit on a hot skillet. It didn’t help that the more Abby spoke of her work, the more impressed he became. By the time they were ready to order their dinner, he found himself captivated by the stories she told about her patients.
“I’ll have the chicken lo mein, no mushrooms, and an egg roll, please.” Abby handed her menu to the waiter.
Clay enjoyed a woman who ate real food and didn’t pick at a salad while he chowed down on General Tso’s shrimp and fried rice.
“I take it you’re using your vacation time to come to Ramblewood.” A part of Clay wished she’d be called back to work on some emergency so his heart rate could return to normal.
“It wasn’t exactly planned. I basically decided I needed to get away from the hospital for a few weeks.” Abby dipped a crunchy noodle into a small bowl of duck sauce and popped it into her mouth. “We’re not exactly seeing eye to eye right now.”
“About what?” Clay knew he should steer his questions toward her family, but curiosity drove him to ask why she needed a break from a job she clearly enjoyed.
“Animal-assisted therapy. My dog, Duffy, is a therapy pet, and we make the rounds of nursing homes and rehab centers. Just having a dog present transforms a room into something more familiar than a hospital bed and beeping machines. A brain tumor patient had been in ICU for a month and wouldn’t open her eyes or react to any stimuli until we brought Duffy in. We put a sheet on the bed and he climbed up and lay beside her. Instantly, this woman put her hand on Duffy and opened her eyes. It was a life-changing experience for me. I’ve been trying to persuade the hospital to induct a program of its own.”
“How’s that going?”
“They’ve rejected my proposal three times. They would need to dedicate a team to research the program first. They feel it would cost too much money. Money they’d rather spend on conventional therapy with years of scientific study behind it.” Abby broke a noodle in half and tossed it onto the table. “I told them I had already conducted a preliminary inquiry on the grants available and I’m willing to chair any events that would bring in donations to the program.”
“Can you manage to take all of that on yourself?” Based on the determined lift of her chin and the challenge of her gaze, Clay knew the answer before she responded.
“I know it won’t be easy, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes. This is personal for me. When I was a kid, I stuttered horribly. Other kids made fun of me. Everyone was always telling me to think before I spoke, which only made things worse.” She shrugged. “I didn’t have a problem thinking. I had a problem getting the words out of my mouth. My speech therapist told me to talk to my dog, alone, with no one else around, and you know what? I didn’t stutter when it was just Ebony and me.” Abby laughed. “I’m not saying that talking to him cured me, but it taught me to have confidence in myself. And, I still have my moments and my bad days when I stumble over my words, but who doesn’t? I’ve had dogs my entire life and they’ve gotten me through
