away from my son.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said, giving him a look of regret. “Working here and at the clinic and fixing up my house keeps me very busy.”
Then she walked away. She couldn’t get involved though she felt very sorry for the little boy. She only knew snippets of the boy’s story. His mother spent most of her time chasing her rodeo dreams and dragged him along. He didn’t seem connected to Morgan, which made her wonder what had happened between Morgan and his wife.
Not that it mattered to her. Morgan was part of her past. She had her own plans for the future. And they didn’t include sticking around a town that was such a source of pain and humiliation to her.
She couldn’t afford any distractions and Morgan and his son were a huge one.
* * *
“Will you be okay?” Morgan knelt in front of Nathan on the floor of the school’s hallway, handing him the backpack he had painstakingly packed this morning. Young kids ran past them, calling out to each other, their voices echoing in the busy hallway, bumping them in their rush to get to their own classes.
Yesterday morning he and Nathan had visited the school to see about enrolling him for the last few weeks of Grade Two. Though he still had his concerns, he had to think of what the counselor had told them after Gillian’s death. That it was important that Morgan and Nathan find their new normal as soon as possible.
Thankfully Nathan hadn’t objected to going to school, and if Morgan was honest with himself, it gave both of them a break from each other. Taking care of a seven-year-old was way out of his comfort zone. Especially a sullen young boy who rejected any advances Morgan made to him.
“This is a good school,” Morgan said, injecting a bright note of enthusiasm in his voice. “I used to go here when I was a kid.”
Nathan took the backpack without looking at Morgan, saying nothing.
Morgan reached out to lay his hand on his son’s shoulder but Nathan pulled away, then walked into the schoolroom and went directly to his designated locker.
“You can come in with him, if you like,” the perky young woman encouraged with a bright smile. “I know it’s his first day here.”
Just then Morgan caught Nathan looking at him, eyes wide, shaking his head a vehement “No.”
Really? He couldn’t even do this for his son?
He wished it didn’t hurt so much.
“I think I’ll stay here to see him settle in,” Morgan said.
“Of course.” He could tell the teacher was puzzled, but he was fairly sure she dealt with a variety of parents, so he tried not to take Nathan’s clear-cut rejection to heart.
He watched a few more moments as Nathan trudged to his desk, then sat down, holding his pencil case that they had bought yesterday, looking down.
Morgan’s heart broke at the sight but he felt stuck. Nathan didn’t want to spend time with him, and Morgan wanted to get started at the vet clinic as soon as possible.
Wednesday, at the Brand and Grill, was the last time he’d seen Nathan act with any kind of animation when he was talking to Tabitha. Which made him nervous, especially because ever since then, the only thing Nathan would actually talk with him about was training his mother’s horse so he could ride it.
And getting Tabitha to do it.
There was no way he could allow that. He didn’t think he could be around Tabitha that much and, more important for his son, he didn’t want him to build a connection to someone who was leaving soon.
As he drove to the clinic he found himself praying. Again. Something he’d been doing a lot lately.
Gillian’s death, gaining custody of Nathan, moving back here had all taken a toll on him. Never mind working with his ex-girlfriend, whom he would be seeing again in a few minutes.
Help me to stay focused on what I need to, he prayed. I need to be emotionally available for Nathan and protect him.
As for his own heart, he could take care of that. The grief he had felt after Tabitha broke up with him had morphed into fury, which had settled into a dull resignation. Then Gillian came into his life and things took an entirely different twist.
His heart would be okay, he told himself. It had to be.
He checked his watch, once again thankful that Dr. Waters kept such strange hours. 9:30 seemed late to open a vet clinic but he wasn’t complaining. It meant he could bring Nathan to school and still arrive on time at work. And maybe cover the occasional emergency that came up before opening hours.
He turned the corner to the vet clinic and saw Tabitha’s truck parked out front.
When Dr. Waters gave him the key to the clinic yesterday, he had planned to come early. Though Dr. Waters had assured him that Tabitha, Cass and Jenny mostly manned the front desk and took care of dispensing, Morgan preferred to know where everything was himself.
He had also planned to establish his territory, so to speak, before Tabitha came in. Make the clinic his.
And now here she was already.
He sighed, sent up another prayer and headed to the back door. It was locked, so he used the key Dr. Waters had given him. He stepped inside the large open room where they worked on horses and cows. It smelled like disinfectant, and though the metal dividers for the various pens were rusted, he could see they were clean.
The rubber floor matting was also hosed down, water still trickling into the floor drain.
His footsteps echoed in the large empty space as he made his way down the concrete hallway and then through another door into the clinic proper.
He paused in the hallway, getting his bearings, then heard humming coming from one of the rooms farther down.
Tabitha, he guessed, feeling an unwelcome tightening in his chest.
He was surprised at the flicker of annoyance her obvious good mood created. Clearly she was in a good place in her life. Why that bothered him he didn’t want to analyze.
She was the one who walked away from you, he reminded himself. Of course she wouldn’t pine after me.
Like you are for her?
Not likely. She had taught him a hard lesson. He had to take care of himself and those who belonged to him.
Like Nathan.
The thought of his son was a good reminder of where his priorities now lay. And sending up another prayer for strength, he strode down the hallway.
Tabitha was working in the supply room, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, the early-morning sun from the window behind it creating a halo of light around her head. She was making notes on a clipboard, her lips pursed, her forehead wrinkled in a frown.
He wanted to make a joke but found himself momentarily tongue-tied, which, in turn, created a low-level frustration. Even after
