and smoothly paved parking lot, the clinic spoke of success.
It spoke of Cassie.
Leaving his truck parked under the shade of a tree, Sam took Mariah’s hand, drawing as much comfort as he gave. Somehow, his having a child made facing Cassie more tolerable. He didn’t question that Cassie would have a family; it was all she’d ever wanted. He wondered briefly about the man she must have married—someone he knew?— then dismissed the thought. It occurred to him that in some ways, Mariah’s presence put him and Cassie on a more equal footing. They’d both moved on. She wouldn’t be the only one who was a parent now. They were both parents…although not of each other’s children. He slowly approached the door of the veterinary clinic. It was Monday morning; he wasn’t ready for this. Could hardly drag the air through his lungs. But he’d become a man who faced hardships and challenges head-on, and this was one of the biggest.
There were only a couple of cars in the parking lot. He hoped one was Cassie’s. And that she’d have a minute or two to spare for him. While he and his parents had spent a miraculous five hours talking the night before—about their lives and his, about Mariah—they’d never mentioned Cassie.
The unspoken message was very clear.
He’d have to clean up this mess on his own. And until he did, his parents weren’t going to give him anything where Cassie was concerned. They loved her like their own daughter. Always had.
They were on her side.
Sam couldn’t blame them. He’d be on her side, too, if there were any way for a man to be in two places at once.
“We’re going to see an old…friend of Daddy’s,” he told the silent child who’d refused to leave his side in the eighteen hours they’d been in town.
His mother had been enchanted—as Sam had known she would be—with Mariah. Though the little girl was completely unresponsive, at least outwardly, Carol Montford hadn’t lost any opportunity to make contact. To touch Mariah’s hand. To smile at her, tend to her, stroke her hair. To get some food—any food—into the child’s stomach.
His father was already wrapped around Mariah’s little finger.
Mariah just didn’t know it yet.
She didn’t know she’d met her match in those two. They were going to love Mariah back to life. Period. Between him and his parents, she wouldn’t have a chance not to become the vivacious, happy child she’d once been.
They walked across the parking lot. “Her name is Cassie and she’s just about the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen,” Sam said, remembering.
He had to do this, to see her first thing. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to accidentally bump into each other in town. And he hoped that seeing her at work would mean he wouldn’t be face to face with her children. Or her husband. At least not yet. Unless it was in the form of a photo on her desk.
It was what he wanted for her, what he’d been imagining all these years. A husband who deserved her love, who cherished her as Sam had promised he would. All the children she’d dreamed of raising. It was the only way he could live with himself, believing that without him she’d managed to have everything she wanted. That she was happy.
“She used to be Daddy’s best friend, a long time ago.”
Mariah walked solemnly beside him, her long black hair in a high ponytail tied with a blue bow that matched the jeans overalls and pink-flowered top he’d chosen for her that morning. Before the disaster that had changed her life so completely, Mariah had insisted on choosing her own outfits every day. And on doing her own hair, as well. She’d looked a little lopsided a time or two—but Sam would trade that for the smile she’d worn any day.
She’d been so proud of herself back then. So sure that life was there just for her. Sure there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do, couldn’t have, if she just got big enough.
She’d been sassy and confident and too smart for her own good.
And she’d chattered from the time she got up in the morning until she’d gone to bed at night, innocently sharing her every thought with anyone lucky enough to be around.
Sam had never tired of listening.
“Cassie is an animal doctor,” Sam told Mariah now, as she hesitated outside the door of the clinic. “She’s the one who gave Muffy to Grandma and Grandpa.”
Muffy hadn’t worked the magic on Mariah that Sam had hoped. The child, having always begged for a dog, had shown no pleasure at finding herself finally living with one.
But then, Muffy was old. And fat.
Sam had been saddened to see such obvious signs of the years he’d lost.
His parents had aged, too, but they still looked great. A little grayer, perhaps, a little more lined, but robust and healthy.
Apparently they walked a couple of miles every morning. And swam every afternoon. They were hoping to take Mariah out to the heated pool in the backyard with them this afternoon.
Sam wasn’t sure he could persuade the little girl to let go of his hand long enough to walk into the next room, let alone outside the house. But he was willing to try. If anyone could reach Mariah, his mother could.
“Look, honey.” He gently guided Mariah’s head in the direction his finger was pointing. “See the plastic fire hydrant? That’s for boy doggies to go to the bathroom.”
Mariah might have been facing the fake hydrant, but he could see that she was still watching him out of the corner of her eye. Sam wished he knew what kind of expression could reassure the frightened child. A big smile? A calm, neutral look? A devil-may-care grin? He had no idea.
The inside of the clinic was as pristine and plush-looking as the outside. Brightly upholstered chairs lined the walls of the waiting room. At the moment, they were all empty.
There was a fancy digital four-foot scale along one wall. Sam supposed it was for animals. He liked the decor, the bright yellows and oranges, the tile floor that would serve for easy cleanup.
With Mariah by his side, Sam walked up to the waist-high solid oak receptionist’s counter.
“Is Cassie in?” he asked, as though he stopped by often. As though he wasn’t asking a question he’d been yearning to ask for the past ten years.
“Dr. Tate?” the college-age girl asked. “Yes, she’s in her office.” She glanced down at the appointment book open in front of her. “Is she expecting you?”
“No,” Sam said, glancing down at Mariah’s head. “I grew up with her here in Shelter Valley. I’m an old friend, just dropping in to say hello.”
“Oh!” The girl’s expression changed from professionally polite to warm and friendly. “You’re visiting?” she asked, rising to her feet.
Again, Sam glanced at Mariah. “Uh, no,” he said. “I’m moving back to town. Just arrived yesterday afternoon.”
“Welcome back, then,” she said. “My name’s Sheila.” She grinned. “I’ve only been in Shelter Valley a couple of years, but I feel like it’s
