Always (19 page)

      "Yes, there is and you know what I mean. We both know." Sue grabbed Taylor's hand, her expression pleading. "Please? Just give me one evening out of your life to explain everything, then I'll never mention it again."

      Taylor met Sue's gaze, saw the woman's anguish and remembered all the good times they'd shared as children. Though Sue had betrayed her, Taylor couldn't find it in her heart to deny her this one chance to clear her conscience. Whatever Sue had to say wouldn't change anything, but it would at least satisfy her curiosity and give closure to the whole mess.

      "All right." Taylor leaned over and flipped open the appointment book to the following weeks. "You know my schedule better than I do. Come over for dinner tonight and we'll–"

      "No, that's too early."

      Frowning, Taylor met Sue's frantic gaze. "Too early for what?"

      "The full moon." Sue's cheeks bloomed with color again. "Never mind. Oh, look, this coming Tuesday looks good and Ryan will be gone on an overnight field trip to Denver with his class."

      "All right, Tuesday." Taylor studied the tremendous relief that crossed Sue's features. Why? "Come by about seven?"

      "Great, I'll bring pizza and wine."

      Sue's enthusiasm made Taylor uncomfortable. They weren't exactly friends anymore, after all. "I'll get something chocolate." Their favorite treat as teens had been brownies topped with rocky road ice cream. Besides, she had a feeling they'd both need it by then.
And
the wine.

      "Thank you, Taylor." Sue squeezed her hand and smiled. "You won't be sorry. I promise."

      
I already am
. Dread pressed down on Taylor. Would she be forced to relive the events that had made her leave Digby the first time? "Well, so what time is my first appointment?" The cat bells sounded again and Mrs. Johnson came through the door, sans Precious.
 

      Sue gave Taylor a tight smile. "Now?"

      "Ooookay." Taylor drew a deep breath and straightened.

      "Mrs. Johnson, you're right on time," Sue said. "And I believe you already know Dr. Bowen."

      "Yes, but she'd better forget all those new-fangled ways they teach doctors nowadays," Mrs. Johnson muttered, giving Taylor the evil eye. "I want good, old-fashioned medical care, like Dr. Hardy–God rest his soul–from 'General Hospital.'"

      "We aim to please, Mrs. Johnson," Taylor said, trying not to grin. She headed down the hall with the elderly woman at her side. "What seems to be the problem?"

      "Well, lan' sakes." Mrs. Johnson gave her a look of utter disbelief. "If I knew that, I certainly wouldn't need you."

      "Uh, well, then what are your symptoms?" Taylor held the door open to the exam room. "Why don't we start with those?"

      Mrs. Johnson turned to face Taylor and held her hand over her heart and leaned closer. "Close the door, please." She took several deep breaths. "You promise not to tell a soul?"

      
Oh, that's an absolute guarantee
. "Of course, the doctor-patient relationship is completely confidential, Mrs. Johnson." Taylor closed the door behind them and gripped the woman's elbow to guide her to the examination table. "Now what seems to be the trouble?"

      "Well," Mrs. Johnson said in a low voice, "I used the public rest room at Gertie's Diner, and I never do that as a rule, but just this once I couldn't wait."

      Taylor cleared her throat and checked Mrs. Johnson's pulse while she waited. When her patient didn't volunteer any additional information, she asked, "Is there a problem with the rest room at Gertie's Diner?"

      The woman gasped and appeared scandalized. "Oh, dear, but I'm afraid there is." She held her hand over her abdomen. "Gertie only has one rest room," she leaned very close, "for men
and
women to share."

      "Okay." Taylor waited for the punch line.

      "Dear me." Mrs. Johnson waved her hand in front of her face like a fan. "That young mechanic, Kent Donahue, from Miller's Garage went in there first."

      Taylor didn't say a word, but her eyes widened slightly. "I'm listening, Mrs. Johnson."

      The older woman cupped a hand to her mouth. "I've missed my monthly curse."

      Taylor coughed into her hand to prevent her shock from showing. She hoped. "Oh, I see, and you believe that's related somehow to the rest room at Gertie's Diner?"

      "Well, Kent was in there a long time." She lifted her chin a notch. "Like father, like son, if you ask me."

      Taylor made some notes on the chart that had nothing to do with the Donahue men. "Well, I think we should start with your medical history, then maybe we'll order some tests." Unless I can convince the woman this is impossible.

      Mrs. Johnson gasped. "Oh, dear. I was afraid of that. This very thing happened to poor Martha on 'The Daring and The Dauntless.'"

      Taylor's lips twitched, but she maintained her stoicism with great effort. "So, tell me, Mrs. Johnson," she continued, summoning her most solemn expression, "what
was
the date of your last menstrual period–er, I mean monthly curse?" She batted her lashes furiously, hoping she appeared more innocent than she felt. A crash course on the life expectancy of sperm on toilet seats was probably out of the question, not to mention the fact that Mrs. Johnson probably hadn't ovulated in a quarter century or so.

      "Old Doc Eddington never would have used a word like," she leaned closer still, "
that
around a lady." Despite her chastisement, Mrs. Johnson seemed satisfied that Taylor took her plight seriously. She looked down at her stubby legs swinging to and fro as they dangled off the exam table. "I remember it clearly. It was the year after my dear Harold passed away."

      "And that was when?" Taylor waited, pen poised in mid-air, trying to remember a time when Mrs. Johnson had been married. Even during Taylor's childhood, Mrs. Johnson had been an eccentric widow with about a hundred cats in residence.

      "July 22, 1970."

*
 
*
 
*

      Gordon spayed the Wilsons' cat, neutered the Smiths' dog, and completed brilliant reconstructive hip surgery on Sheriff Nankeville's aging collie before lunch. Standing at his sink lathering soap to his elbows, he clenched his teeth and tried not to think about Taylor. Or last night. Or his life in general.

      Once upon a time, he'd planned to teach the same surgical technique he'd just used on the collie to veterinary students. His father's death had brought him back to Digby, where he'd fallen into the old man's practice and never managed to escape again.
 

      The brutal truth was, Digby didn't need a full-time veterinarian. Sighing, Gordon nudged the water faucet off with his elbow and grabbed a paper towel. He enjoyed his practice, but it just wasn't enough. More and more, he found himself fantasizing about life beyond Digby. Maybe in Denver. Or at the University in Greeley.

      Or maybe all his melancholy stemmed from the return of Taylor Bowen, the love of his life. "Damn." He wadded up the paper towel and tossed it into the wastebasket, then glanced at the clock on his wall.
 

      Barely noon and he was virtually done for the day. Maybe he should go home and get his fishing pole. If Ryan wasn't in school, he'd take him along.

      He opened his office door and headed down the hall to Sue's desk. He could take up golf. Of course, the nearest golf course was thirty miles away. Raking his fingers through his hair, he decided to take his Jeep over to Miller's for an overdue check-up. Of course, he should probably go to Denver and shop for a new car instead.

      Parting with his Jeep would be like losing a limb. All right, so he was over-dramatizing, but the bottom line was, he loved that Jeep. He didn't want a new one. Miller's it would be.

      "No emergencies?" he asked, noticing the empty waiting room.
 

      "Nope, you're a free man." Sue gave him an impish grin. "Taylor had Mrs. Johnson first thing this morning."

      Gordon refused to discuss Taylor with Sue. Last night had been humiliating enough already. "Well, I'll have my pager on. Hank's coming in this afternoon. Tell him I'll be back around three to check my post-op patients. Later."

      "Wait, we have an animal control problem," Sue said, but he kept walking.

      Ignoring Sue's stunned expression, Gordon deposited his lab coat in his office and headed out the back door. The sun was shining and it promised to be a beautiful summer day. No reason to waste it sitting around the office where he wasn't needed. He loosened his collar, stripped off his tie, and removed the ragtop from his beloved Jeep.
 

      Miller's Garage was only a few blocks. Of course, everything in Digby proper was only a few blocks. He swung into the drive and pulled the parking brake, but before he could kill the engine, it sputtered and died a lingering death. Patting the steering wheel, he said, "Sorry I've been neglecting you, Henrietta."

      A sleek but dusty BMW pulled in beside his Jeep and a yuppie of the highest order climbed out.
Hmm, he must be lost
.

      "Excuse me?" the yuppie said.

      "Yes?" Gordon climbed from his Jeep and stood there, waiting for the yuppie to ask for directions.

      "Is...
this
Dugby?"

      Distaste edged the man's voice and made Gordon bristle. "It's
Digby
. Were you looking for it?"

      The man looked down at a piece of paper in his hand. "Yes. Unfortunately." He looked around again, then approached Gordon. "Can you tell me how to find this place?"

      Gordon's cheeks burned. "The Digby Veterinary Clinic?" What did this yuppie want with his clinic? He didn't have an animal in the car.

      "Yes, my fiancée is practicing medicine there, if you can believe
that
."

      Gordon's teeth clenched and he drew a deep breath through his nose. "Fiancée?"

      "Yes, do you know where I can find this place?"

      Gordon noted the perfect hair, the perfect suit, the perfect face. From Taylor's perfect life. The guy smelled like money, too.
Yeah, perfect
.

      Clearing his throat, he thrust out his hand, surprised by the firmness of the yuppie's handshake. "Gordon Lane, the local veterinarian."

      The man eyed Gordon with renewed interest. "Then you must know Dr. Bowen."

      "Yeah, you could say that." Gordon forced a smile. "I'll bet you're Jeremy Cole."

      "Right you are, and isn't it fortuitous that I ran into you here?"

      
Just my luck
. "I just left the clinic. Taylor was with a patient."

      "Perhaps she'll be finished by the time I get there."

      "I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow." Gordon struggled to keep accusation from entering his tone. "She, uh, mentioned it."

      "Of course." Jeremy flicked a piece of lint from his sleeve. "The company jet reached Denver earlier in the day, so I rented a car and drove up today instead of in the morning." He glanced at the paper in his hand again. "Though it seems to me these directions could've been a lot more direct."

      Gordon glanced at the paper Jeremy held out to him, immediately recognizing Sue's handiwork. "Remind me to draw you a new map for the trip back." He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. "Just head down Digby Boulevard two blocks, then turn right on Drummond. The clinic is on the left."

      "Great, thanks." Jeremy waved as he headed around to the driver's side of his rented car. "I'm sure we'll see each other again during my stay."

      "Sure." Gordon waited until the BMW was out of sight, then turned and leaned on Henrietta's hood with both hands. That rich
 
yuppie-dweeb was what Taylor wanted in her life. Not a smalltown vet. She wanted to do research, and Dr. Cole obviously had the money and contacts to back her.

      Gordon stared long and hard at the Jeep, ran his hands along the faded paint. A lump formed in his throat. He'd clung to the past for too damned long. It was way past time to let go of this piece of junk.

      And Taylor Bowen.