Forever a Family

Chapter Four

“That’s not one of your old T-shirts.” Joey paused at the entrance of the clinic.

Olivia nudged him forward. “Concentrate on your work, not me.” Still, she tugged at the tail of her lavender T-shirt, hoping it wouldn’t look new to Zeke. Technically it wasn’t new. She’d bought it weeks ago; she just hadn’t worn it before.

“I smell pancakes,” Joey announced. “If I gotta come here, let’s eat.” The door to the private quarters was fully open. Not hesitating, he trotted past the doorway. Seemed hunger had trumped rebellion. In moments he’d disappeared.

Olivia felt far more uncertain.

“Come on in,” Zeke hollered from somewhere in the back.

Joey had probably already reached the kitchen, but Olivia wasn’t as confident, certainly not as bold. Clearly a man’s home, the room held a large well-used leather chair the color of mahogany—much like most of the wood pieces, including the crowded bookcase and the side tables filled with veterinary magazines. A tall, wide fireplace dominated one wall. Unlit because of the warm temperatures, the imposing hearth proclaimed its prominence with raw, rough-hewn granite. Wide-planked oak floors creaked slightly beneath her feet as she trod inside.

She could envision Zeke, his long legs stretched out so that his boots rested on the scarred coffee table, face buried in one of the hundreds of books.

“Mom!” Joey appeared, looking annoyed. “Zeke says if you want to eat, come on.”

Wondering if that was a direct quote, Olivia answered him. “Okay.” Following her sure-footed son, she lagged behind. Venturing into yet another strange place reminded her of all the new schools she’d had to enter each time her father had been transferred, the stares of the other kids, none of whom would remain longtime friends, because she would have moved on again before that could happen.

A spatula in his right hand, Zeke pointed with the other to a coffeepot. “Just brewed. Hope you like it strong.”

She spotted a mug rack and took one emblazoned with a Texas A&M logo, the university with the best veterinary program in the state. No doubt Zeke’s alma mater.

“Cream’s in the fridge,” Zeke told her, flipping a pancake. “Sugar’s on the table.”

“I want milk. I can get the cream,” Joey offered, clearly already acquainted with the kitchen. “They’re on the same shelf.”

“We use the kitchen for a break room during work hours, so Joey was in here yesterday,” Zeke explained. “Gives me more space on the other side for supplies and indoor kenneling.”

“Kenneling?”

“Small animals I’ve operated on that need to stay through the night.” He flipped another pancake. “For observation.”

“So you have someone who works the night shift?”

Zeke shook his head.

“Then who watches the overnight animals?”

“I have an intercom and I’m a light sleeper.”

Joey shoved a small carton of cream at her. Accepting it, she didn’t pour any into her cup. Early as it was, Zeke looked like a mass of energy despite any nighttime interruptions.

“Joey, you’d better throw a few plates on the table so we can eat,” Zeke instructed as he added another pancake to the growing stack.

She tried not to wince. Apparently Zeke didn’t remember that young boys often took comments literally. “Hope you don’t mind paper towels,” Zeke continued, grabbing a roll and plopping it on the table. “Don’t have many dinner guests.”

“It’s breakfast,” Joey pointed out.

“So it is.” Reaching back, Zeke grabbed a platter. “Silverware’s in the far left drawer.” He lifted his sturdy shoulders in a half shrug. “My mother says I have the whole kitchen set up backward.”

Olivia found her voice. “As long as it works for you.”

“I can only cook three things. She takes pity on me and sends over leftovers. And Angie brings in more food than I can eat.”

To her surprise, Olivia wondered if there was a yet-unmentioned girlfriend in the mix. She’d gotten the idea yesterday that he was single, but that was just an assumption. “You really didn’t have to make breakfast for us.”

“Just stirred up more batter. I was going to make pancakes anyway.”

Trying not to feel like an outsider as she had most of her life, Olivia put her mug on the table. “Can I do something to help?”

“Syrup’s in the microwave. You can grab that.”

Grateful for something to busy herself with, Olivia looked around the good-size kitchen and spotted the microwave. She never bothered to heat the syrup. She’d always thought that was something they just did in restaurants. She reached for the small bottle. Not thinking that it would be too hot, she jerked back at the heat on the glass container. The action splashed a small bit of the red-hot syrup on her hand. Brought up to never moan over what the Colonel termed a “small incident,” she didn’t say anything, instead looked for the sink.

Zeke turned around, sized up the situation and grabbed her good hand. “Thought you knew it’d be hot.” Leading her to the sink, he shook his head. “It’s like jam or filled doughnuts—they get hot as a greased pit in the microwave.”

“I can—”

But Zeke was already turning on the faucet. He quickly put her injured hand under the cool stream of water. “Joey, grab a big bowl from the hutch.”

“Hutch?”

“The big piece of furniture over there. Bowls are on the bottom shelf.”

“There’s no need to fuss—” Olivia began.

“Who’s fussing? Good grief, woman, you want a blister?”

“Of course not.” But it was hard to argue with him as he gently touched her hand, careful to make sure the water pressure wasn’t too forceful, that the reddened skin was handled with care. It had been so long since her hand had been held by a man. Or since she’d stood so close...

“This one okay?” Joey asked.

Startled, Olivia jerked her hand back, putting too much pressure on the burn.

Zeke’s puzzlement showed in his face, but he didn’t comment in front of Joey, instead taking the bowl and filling it with cold water.

To cover her flub, Olivia started to turn to the refrigerator. “I’ll get some ice.”

“No. That’ll just aggravate the burn. The cool water will keep the reddening down, and while your hand’s in the water, the air can’t get to it and make it hurt more. Then we’ll cut open a stalk of aloe vera, rub it on the welt and it’ll be good as new in a day.”

“Oh.” Well, he was a doctor, even though he worked on patients of the four-footed variety....

As though to contest her thoughts, she heard squawking from another room.

“Dilbert,” Zeke explained. “My parrot. Every now and then he decides to try to fly, then smacks into the furniture.”

“Why can’t he fly?”