best possible care,” Stephen said. “Why would anyone purposely hurt a bald eagle?”
“Men and their trophies,” Barbara said.
“I have a theory that the only reason we have survived to evolve this far is because we taste bad.” The others began to laugh. She held up her hands. “No, listen. Most young, healthy predators avoid killing human beings in favor of yummier meals for themselves and their young. When the hunters take out a man-eater, they generally find that it’s old or diseased and too slow to run away.”
“How about grizzlies?” Stephen asked.
“Animals basically want to assure their DNA is passed on to the next generation,” Stephen said. “The same thing Orville wants.”
“Orville probably has mated for life,” Barbara said. “For tough birds, they can seem to be extremely romantic. When they mate, they lock their talons together high up in the atmosphere and fall and fall until you think they’re going to plummet to the ground, before they break apart and soar again.”
“We’re going to send Orville soaring again to find his lady,” Stephen said and patted her hand.
She withdrew it quickly. “Talk about counting chickens! Don’t say things like that—it’s bad luck.”
“Then let’s talk about you instead.” He grinned at her. “Why did you become a veterinarian? And don’t most women gravitate to small-animal practices? Dogs and cats?”
Barbara looked away and shrugged. She seemed casual, but Stephen had noticed that when she talked about something important to her, her earlobes turned pink. He thought it endearing and wondered what she’d do if he nibbled one.
Smack him, probably, or give him a what-on-earth? stare. Even the way she sat slightly turned away from him said “Keep your distance.”
Fine. He intended to, but he rather enjoyed looking at her pink earlobes.
“I like animals,” she said simply. “Even when I was little, if it breathed, I wanted to keep it.” She turned the palm of her hand toward him. “See that little scar?” She pointed to a raised place beside the thumb. “When I was about five I tried to catch a baby raccoon. Its mother was opposed and bit me.”
“Did you have to take rabies shots?” Emma asked.
“The old-fashioned kind in the stomach,” Barbara said. “That should have cured me, but it didn’t. More and more women are going in for large-animal practices. I met John at orientation the first day of classes. Neither of us ever looked at anyone else again.” She stared into the fireplace, took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
Stephen caught the glint of tears in the firelight. He’d done his crying where no one could see or hear him, but he knew what she felt. That big open hole that seemed unfillable. He would’ve liked to put his arms around her and let her cry on his shoulder.
If he no longer wanted a leftover life to live, maybe he could convince her she didn’t want one, either. He knew Nina would have been furious at him for wallowing in grief for so long. From the little he had heard about the man, he strongly suspected John would have been just as annoyed at Barbara.
From the kitchen came a ding. Emma rocked her chair back into place. “Seth, darling, where have you hidden the forklift?”
The dinner was simple but tasty. Spaghetti Bolognese, a big salad, French bread and cheesecake. “The cheesecake is from the café in Williamston,” Emma admitted. “Seth knows I am no great shakes as a cook. But I’m trying.”
They all made appropriate complimentary noises. Without being asked, Barbara took over cleaning duties so that Emma could enjoy the company.
“May I help?” Stephen asked.
Emma shook her head. “I count as family. You still count as company. Go sit.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go. How’s the addition coming?” she called to the living room. “From here the kitchen looks pretty much finished.”
“Nearly,” Emma called back. “Seth’s mother, Laila, is going to try to come over this weekend to help get it all put back in order. Seth, why don’t you give them the grand tour?”
* * *
STEPHEN WAS SURPRISED how much of the construction had been finished fast. The nursery—buttercup-yellow, as Emma had said—was finished, complete with a crib and a roomy, plush rocking chair.
Barbara joined them as soon as she put the dishes into the dishwasher and scrubbed the counters.
“I never had a rocking chair that luxurious when John and I had our two,” Barbara said. “There was no way I could breast-feed and set up a new practice at the same time, let alone build the clinic and the barn with our apartment. John and I split feeding duties, and our old rocking chair felt comforting to the babies whoever was on bottle duty.”
“Where are your kids now?” Stephen asked. They clearly didn’t live with her. He would have noticed the signs during their shared meal.
“They both live in Nashville,” she said. “Mark works part-time as a sound engineer for some of the smaller groups that play there. It’s a crazy job, but he loves it. He wants to travel before he thinks about settling down, though. My daughter is in sales at a boutique hotel in Nashville and very much one of the young social set. She shows no sign of settling down, either.”
“Then we have something in common,” Stephen said. “My elder daughter, Elaine, worked in sales at The Peabody until she married. My younger daughter, Anne, works as a waitress and bartender to make enough money to support her horse. She’d love to make a full-time career as a horse trainer eventually...”
“But very few people can,” Barbara said. “My condolences. Horse-crazy daughters generally have fewer problems in adolescence, but speaking from experience, anything to do with horses is hard, expensive and time-consuming, and isolates you from the non-horse-crazy.”
When they came back from the short house tour, Barbara took one look at Emma and whispered, “She’s sound asleep. Time for us to go, Seth. Come on, Stephen.” Seth followed them out onto the front porch. Barbara stood on tiptoes and gave him a kiss. “I hope this new girl will work out for me. It’s time for Emma to cut her hours. And how about your hours?” she asked Seth. “Are you taking any more time off?”
“As much as I can, and I’m giving Earl most of the tough jobs that require traveling all over the county. Stephen, Earl’s my partner,” Seth explained. “We’re heading into black-powder season for deer hunting. That means more, rather than less, work. I’m like you, Barbara, pretty much on call all the time.”
Stephen waited on the porch while Seth helped Emma to move from the recliner to the bedroom, then walked across the street to his own little house. He’d considered inviting Barbara in for a final cup of coffee. But he assumed she’d decline.
He climbed into his truck and backed out of his driveway to follow her home. He’d never allowed a woman to reach her door unaccompanied in his life. His mother would have killed him.
He’d forgotten the motion-sensor lights. The moment he pulled
