Forever a Family

“I’ve been commissioned by a family to paint a portrait of their late father. He was a major in the army, close to promotion when he died. The family has given me bundles of photos, but he always appears stiff, in his military posture. The candids aren’t much better. I’ve always been able to meet with the subjects of my portraits, get a sense of who they are, which of course is impossible in this case. I’d like to speak to your dad, observe him if possible, get the sense of a military man to help learn the essence of one. Most veterans in Rosewood weren’t career soldiers and are not at the same rank.”

“But not all colonels are similar in nature,” Olivia responded. “My dad’s...pretty formal.”

“If you’d rather I didn’t—”

“It’s not that. I’m afraid you won’t get much from him. He lived and breathed army.”

Kate’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a plus. The family pretty much described their father the same way. Do you think you could get me an introduction?”

Olivia blinked. “He’s not active military anymore. You can just talk to him, no red tape to get through.”

“No, but he wasn’t responsive when I phoned. I’m hoping if you asked, he might cooperate.”

She should have known. “The Colonel’s comfort zone begins and ends with the military. But if you think it would help, I’ll ask.”

“That would be amazing.” Kate brushed back her auburn hair and smiled. “I feel terrible having come here originally to ask a favor.”

“Originally?”

“Unless you’d rather I not, I’d like to be a friend, not just someone who passes you on the sidewalk.”

Touched, Olivia smiled. “I’d like that, too.” For the first time since she had been a small child, Olivia realized she could have a friend, one she didn’t have to bid goodbye in a matter of months.

Chapter Three

Deciding that Joey was going to remain silent, Zeke headed out the door of the clinic with the boy in tow, pausing to point out the buildings. “You can see that’s the barn. The stables. And the corral’s off that way. I’ll show you the lay of the land later. Chores are waiting.”

The two-story barn was meticulously clean, fragrant with the aroma of fresh hay. Zeke never could decide which he liked better, the comfort of his home or the warm feeling of the barn. His own cow, Milkdud, which he’d raised since she’d been a sickly calf, mooed in welcome. Adjoining stalls held various recovering domestic stock that required daily care.

Zeke introduced the assortment. Three horses, two cows, three pigs and four sheep. The new patients were stabled in the front stalls. After making some notes, Zeke headed back to his office. Joey trailed behind, surreptitiously checking out the grounds and other buildings. Zeke hid a grin. His little ranch wasn’t any Disneyland, but it was a lot more interesting to a twelve-year-old than school.

Once back inside, Zeke checked blood results with Angie. Glancing up, Zeke noticed that Joey had wandered over to the aquarium. But this time he kept his arms at his sides, not touching the glass, just watching the fish. Quick learner.

“Angie, how many appointments this afternoon?”

She looked at the computer screen. “Besides the puffball, not too many.” They’d had to make up appointments they had canceled the day before with the chick debacle.

“We should be okay, then.” Zeke strolled over to Joey, wanting to know more about this boy who had never been allowed a pet other than a turtle. “Joey, while Angie’s prepping the first patient, watch the phones.”

Joey spun around, his eyes wide. “And answer them?”

Zeke thought of Olivia’s delayed reaction when the chicks had first scattered. Definitely related to his mother. “Yes.”

“But I don’t know what to say.”

“Answer ‘Harrison Veterinary.’ If it’s routine, take a message. If it’s an emergency, come get Angie or me.”

His eyes grew even bigger. “How do I know if it’s an emergency?”

Zeke smiled to himself. The boy wasn’t as indifferent as he pretended. “Most people know when it’s serious and they’ll tell you. If they don’t know, ask one of us.”

Joey’s Adam’s apple rose up and down as he visibly swallowed.

Zeke pointed to a few labels on the multibutton phone. “Our beeper and cell numbers are marked.” He lifted a spindle from the desk. “Messages go here.”

The boy ran nervous hands down the legs of his jeans.

“If you’re sure it’s an emergency, beep us with the number 911.” He pointed again to the phone. “It’s preset right here.”

Joey gingerly sat in the chair behind the desk. Heading to the barn, Zeke mentally ticked off the afternoon’s procedures, all routine: one case of bovine mastitis, a split hoof, some mild colic and an infected ear. Just one horse had him concerned.

Zeke patted the filly, confident about the ultimate outcome. “She’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Doc,” the grateful owner responded.

Zeke stroked the horse’s silky mane. “And you stay away from milkweed, my friend.” The words barely out, his beeper went off.

911.

* * *

“Mom!” Joey yanked the phone out of Olivia’s hand.

Zeke burst through the door on a dead run into the clinic.

“There’s no emergency,” Joey rushed to explain, glaring up at his mother.

Olivia winced. “Joey was showing me the beeper on the phone and I accidentally pushed the preset button.” Zeke’s face filled with disbelief.

And Olivia didn’t blame him a bit. “I’m really sorry. I seem to fumble everything these days.” The man must think she was an absolute idiot.

“Better to find out it wasn’t an emergency,” he replied, releasing a whoosh of relief. “Not that I’d encourage any more false alarms.”

“Of course not.” She flushed, her face hot. “Um, I hope this won’t be counted against Joey. For his community service.”

Zeke turned toward Joey. “What do you think? Should we let her off?”

Joey smirked. “I’d have to do more volunteer work.”

Zeke scrunched his brow in concentration. “I think you’ve got something there.”

Olivia blinked. “You’re not serious?”

“You did push the 911 button.”

She looked at Zeke, then Joey. “Fine. Do you want me to start tonight or will tomorrow morning be soon enough?”

Zeke stroked his firm jaw, appearing to deliberate. “Morning ought to be soon enough.”