Together Again: Spirit Travel Novel - Book #4 (Romance & Humor - The Vicarage Bench Series) (7 page)

His lean body filled in the jeans the way the manufacturer must have planned for them to be worn when they were designed. Now she knew why she’d caught so many women’s glances following him, yearning clear in their expressions. Something niggled at her about his face.

“If you’re an American, where did you get those un-American-shaped eyes?”

It took him a while to answer. He made her wait, the silence drawn out. Finally he backed down, and his tone resumed its normal timbre.
“My mother is Hawaiian. They say I take after her.”

“They?”

“Everyone who knows us. I sure as heck don’t take after the old man. He’s pure Texas, and all male.”

“Like your all-American he-man?”

A chuckle broke.
“Yeah! Sort of.”

“Your mother must be a gorgeous woman.”

“I think so. Hold it! Is that a compliment?”

“Not bloody likely—you were born with those eyes, you didn’t do anything for them. Therefore the fact that you’re a good-looker shouldn’t count.”

“Good-looker! I hate being teased about how I look. Do you know how many noses I had to flatten to stop that kind of garbage when I was a kid? They soon changed it to Tough Guy. It suited my personality much better.”

“So you do take after your, ah, old man.”

“Yep! I guess I do.” He chuckled, his voice husky with pride.

As Troy took his new garments to the cashier, Dani stopped him.

“Troy. Look at that green shirt, the one on the mannequin just there. You must buy it. Please, for me. It’s the perfect colour for you.”

“You think so, princess? Fine, I could use another one, and if it’ll make you happy, then consider it done.”

The stop at the busy pharmacy next door to buy a dog collar and lead earned him high marks. Dani’s contentment spread. After his purchases were made, the dog collected and leashed, Troy stopped in the centre of the sidewalk.

“So are you going to keep your word and tell me where Ellie’s parents live? It’s time I earned my keep. I have to start writing the story I came for. It’s why I’m here.”

“Do you want to walk, or take the bus?”

“Will they let the pest here on the bus with me?”

“If you carry him, they might.”

In no time they were in front of a showpiece home on a secluded lane. It was an elegant Victorian house with rampant ivy covering the walls. A spacious patio could be seen behind hedges, and plant groupings of red roses, purple rhododendrons, and darkish green holly bushes decorated the flagstone walkway. An old coach house stood isolated to one side of the acreage that made up the yard.

A blanket covered with a little girl’s precious items lay spread on the spacious lawn in front. Dolls, stuffed toys, and pieces of a pink plastic tea set were strewn everywhere. Smack dab in the middle of it all sat the small golden-haired imp he’d seen near the vicarage with the older couple the day before.

Troy stopped to look around him and absorb the picturesque scene. The freshly mown lawn leached the air with the fresh-cut smell known to anyone who’d done chores as a youngster. Troy spent a moment inhaling deep breaths and let the memories flood.

With his mind wandering, he didn’t pay close attention to the inquisitiveness of a small puppy when he sees someone close to his own size. A wiggle, a circle, a yank, and the happy mutt escaped from his newly acquired collar.

Joyful yips warned the startled little girl that her play would soon be invaded. When she spied the puppy running her way, her arms opened in welcome.

It was love at first hug. Troy and Dani witnessed it together and both smiled—one inside, one out.

He approached slowly, looking around to see if there were other adults present. Watchful to see that the small child didn’t show fear of a stranger coming into her space, he stopped in front of her.

He needn’t have worried.

“Hello, sir. Is this your dog? What’s his name? He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” In between the words, her tiny hands moved constantly, petting and hugging. Her laughter rang out as the pup’s tongue, in rapid progression, worked his way over her face, stopping her from further speech. His shenanigans made her arch her head back and out of the way, while his plump body and scrambling feet climbed up her chest. His paws straddled her throat as if he wanted to embrace her.

Troy, hips cocked, hands in his pockets and head on one side, watched and laughed. His manly roars intermingled with the child’s glee. He hunched down to be level with the little girl. She drew him as food would draw a starving animal.

Only he heard Dani’s accompanying laughter diminish into sobs.

And then she faded.

What was that all about?

Chapter Nine

The child repeated. “Is he your puppy? What’s his name?”

Troy stopped his internal listening and brought his attention back to the earnest sprite in front of him.

“I guess he’s mine. I’ve recently inherited him until I can find him a good home. And he doesn’t have a name.”

“He doesn’t? Everyone should have a name, don’tcha think, sir?” Green twins of innocence stared up at him. Flecks of amber intensified their beauty, and he felt like he was melting inside.

“I guess you’re right, Little One. What’s your name?”

“Amy Howard. What’s yours?”

“Troy Brennan.”

The puppy, having finished washing the girl’s face, curled into her arms, nestling as if he’d found his special place. Her hand never stopped petting, soothing, loving. Covetousness apparent, the child rubbed her cheek against the soft fur.

“He needs to have a name.” The serious look in her sparkling beauties stopped him from taking the matter lightly. Big beautiful eyes did him in every time, but when they gleamed from between long lashes in a little angel’s face, he was lost.

“I kinda promised someone else they could name him. I’m just waiting on their decision. What would you name him if he were yours?”

“I always wanted a dog called Buddy. Do you think your friend would like that for a name?”

“She’s not here right now, but I promise I’ll ask her, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she agrees with you. It’s a great name.”

Troy had to admit, even with the ending, “Buddy” did suit the amiable canine. And by the animal’s reaction, the way his ears lifted as she spoke, it seemed obvious that for him the name struck a chord, also.

Amy’s ponytailed ringlets bobbed up and down as she nodded solemnly in agreement. “You know it means a best friend?”

Troy nodded along with her. “Yep, and this little guy is as friendly as they come.” His tenderness earned him another adorable smile. Framed by wisps of shorter curls that blew into her eyes and the corner of her mouth, her face was a tiny replica of Ellie Ward’s.

“Sweetheart, is your mommy home?”

“Not now. She’s working, but my grandma’s here. Do you want to talk with her?” Her polite, smiling glance elevated to one of affection as she swung her gaze to include someone standing behind him.

“Yes, do you want to talk with me, young man, rather than bothering my granddaughter?”

Troy turned quickly, and there stood the older woman who, along with her husband, had met up with Ellie Ward yesterday. Her arms were crossed, and the steely look she focused on him curbed his relaxed manner and had him instantly assuming a polite, businesslike attitude. He stood up quickly, stuck his hand out and spoke.

“Ma’am. My name is Troy Brennan. I’m an American, and I’ve come all the way from Chicago.”

Acting as a lady should in front of her granddaughter, politeness forced her to lift her hand and grasp his, but only for a few seconds. The minute he released it, she used her other hand to brush off her palm as if he’d left a stain. Or were her hands rubbing together in nervousness? Not likely, if her icy behaviour counted for anything.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Brennan?”

“He wants to talk with Mum, Grandma, and this treasure belongs to him.” Amy looked down at the pup that returned her gaze, adulation clear on both their faces. Her childish delight broke into the absorption of two controlling personalities gauging each other’s inner strength and caused her grandmother’s attention to refocus from appraisal of the cocky man hovering over her to the animal nestled in Amy’s arms.

“Give that dog back to Mr. Brennan at once, dear, and then go in and get your lunch.” Her tone froze the pleasure apparent earlier, and sorrow turned Amy’s light green orbs cloudy grey. Tears hovered, were rapidly blinked away, and then were lost to sight as her face lowered and her lips kissed the whining pup’s head.

Small hands tenderly handed the reluctant, defiant, struggling animal to Troy’s waiting ones. Replaced by despondency, her earlier exuberance disappeared as she silently implored him to be good to her new friend.

“I’ll take care of him, sweetheart, I promise. I’ll find him a good home, don’t you worry.”

“He loves you,” she implored, with emphasis on the last word. “You’re his friend, and he wants to stay with you.” Like a spiritual teacher, she spoke her lesson from the heart.

“Amy, say goodbye now. I would like to speak with Mr. Brennan alone. And, young lady, be sure to wash those hands and your face before eating.”

Together the adults watched as the little girl, in her pretty pink ruffled blouse and matching skirt, skipped towards the patio and disappeared.

Both stiffened as they resumed their character analysis of each other.

She spoke first. “Mr. Brennan, how the devil you found my daughter, I’ll never know, but I find it unforgivably offensive that you’ve approached her residence and even gone so far as to play up to Amy in your ploy to get a story. And don’t try to tell me that you’re not a reporter. I know different.”

“Yes, ma’am, I am. I only want a few minutes of her time. I’ve come a long way, and I truly believe that her story is one of great importance to the folks back in the States. Everyone involved, including the general public, is interested. They’ve questioned her motives over and over again for acting in the brave way she did—”

“She is not here, nor would she talk with any journalist if she were. It’s people like you who forced her to leave her home in Chicago and flee to England. Bothering her day and night! The poor girl has deadlines to meet on her latest novel, and the media’s manic manipulation hasn’t given her any respite whatsoever. It’s—it’s—well, it’s despicable. And why she behaved so idiotically, like a one-woman SWAT team, is beyond me.”

“She’s a hero, someone to admire.”

“No, she is not. She is a mother, responsible for a small girl, and with no business getting embroiled in such foolishness. I’ve said all I wish to say on the matter. Now, I must go in for my lunch. Goodbye, Mr. Brennan.” Her tone brooked no comeback, no loophole, nothing open for discussion.

Troy stood rooted to the spot as he watched Ellie’s mother stomp up the same path her granddaughter had taken earlier. Aggravation, evident to anyone watching his face, showed clearly, while unkind words resonated inside his head. He forgot he had a listener.

“Old bat! How could such a lovely woman as Ellie have grown up to be the brave person she obviously is, and raise the incredibly sweet child she did, with a mother like that?”

“Troy! She’s not an old bat, just an anxious mum trying to protect her family.”

“Back again, are you? What happened? Why did you get so upset?”

He waited.

She didn’t answer. He felt a wave of emotion wash through him, feelings he couldn’t understand but with a residue that left him aching.

“I get the hint—change the subject. Fine! What makes you think you know so much about Mama Godzilla anyway? She scares me silly.”

“Does this mean you’ll give up on the story?”

“Not a chance! I’ll have to try and catch Ellie on her own—away from the old battle-axe. Bury’s a small place. I’m sure if I keep my eyes open I’ll get my chance. By the way, little Amy wants to name this monster Buddy. I told her I’d check it with you.” So saying, he lowered the dog to the ground and replaced his collar.

“I think it’s a perfect name. Do you like it?”

“Sure. It’s fine by me.”

“Come on, Buddy. Guess we’d better tighten your collar a little. If I have to drag you around with me, might as well make sure you can’t escape again and get into mischief
.”

“You like him. I can hear it in your voice, and I feel it from inside. God love ya, Troy, if you ask me, you’re a proper softie.”

“For your eyes only, sweetheart. Don’t let it get out, or I’m in big trouble.”

“Mum’s the word, Tough Guy.”

Chapter Ten

“Nurse Joye! You’ve arrived. Thank God! I do appreciate your speaking with me, since my brother hasn’t returned my numerous calls. I’ve left message after message, all to no avail.” With her voice breaking, the mother’s tension filtered over the wire directly into the young nurse’s soft heart.

“Mrs. Howard, the doctor feels terrible about his negligence, but he’s under extreme pressure right now. He will update you as soon as possible. All I can say is there is no change since you last called. Your daughter is resting comfortably, and all necessary tests have been taken. She’s sedated and has twenty-four-hour care.”

Mrs. Dorn, leaning against the wall opposite the telephone table, nodded her head in agreement with the words she heard from Nurse Joye’s side of the conversation.

The red silk scarf tied around the housekeeper’s tightly permed hair had slipped a bit to one side, covering a portion of her forehead, and her flowered, smock-like dress fitted snugly—so snugly that an astute observer might consider she needed to get a larger size or she’d soon burst from the one she wore. Her chubby fingers, interlocked under her gigantic bosom, fidgeted—as if in nervous anticipation of being forced to take the receiver.

Nurse Joye, carefully keeping the unsightly blemish on the left side of her face hidden, smiled in the housekeeper’s direction while listening to the fretful voice on the other end of the line. She waved away Mrs. Dorn’s anxiety and watched as the heavy woman rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Mrs. Howard. I will ask him to call. Dani’s lovely. It’s my pleasure. Ta Ra!”

The housekeeper’s sigh of relief was obvious as the young woman in white hung up the phone. “Nurse, if the doctor don’t speak with her soon, I’ll be going off me rocker. Iffen you ask me, the poor dear’s got a right to know her daughter’s in a coma. I’d want to be told, wouldn’t you?”