Chapter Four
DEACON
“So, the appointment with Mr. Atkins went well,” Dad said. We were at the table having dinner. “Glad he found those little kittens, huh?”
I nodded. “Very. They wouldn’t have survived long, especially with the cold coming.”
He ate a forkful of food and took his time chewing and swallowing. “Winter’s an unusual name, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“He seems very nice,” Dad added. He was watching me. For what, I wasn’t sure.
I nodded as I ate some dinner. “This is very good, Mom. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, darling,” she said. “You both worked hard today by the sounds of it.”
“Winter’s an unusual name, don’t you think?” Dad said.
Back to this again . . .
“Yes. I told him that, though I’m sure he’s heard it before. He didn’t seem surprised.”
The way they both stared at me made me think perhaps I shouldn’t have said that. Either to Winter or that I shouldn’t have told my parents I’d said that. I wasn’t sure.
“Perhaps telling someone their name is weird isn’t polite,” Dad said gently.
“You just said his name was unusual.”
“But not to his face,” he said, then he sighed. “But you’re right. I did say it was unusual. And I shouldn’t have said that either. But anyway, he seems very nice. And he’s opening a bookstore. That’ll be great for the town.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I think he said he wants to open on December first. There’ll be a grand opening.”
“He’ll have his hands full with a new business and two very young kittens.”
I didn’t mention what Winter had said about shoving them down his shirt because I’d like to think he was joking.
Sarcasm was often lost on me and I’d learned that people often used it carelessly.
Winter had looked horrified when he’d mentioned the shirt-stuffing and he said he didn’t think that would be good for the kittens, so I trusted that he wasn’t about to try it.
“I named them,” I said. “The kittens. He said he’d never named anything and it was a great responsibility. Though I’m not sure that was true, given the fact we have customers with pets named Catrick Swayze and Droolius Caesar.”
“True.” Dad chuckled. “So what did you call them?”
“Merry and Bright,” I said with a smile. “It was on—”
“On the box they were brought in,” Dad said, smiling. “I noticed that. Very cute names, Deac.”
“He’ll probably change them,” I allowed.
He studied me for a while. “And he mentioned that you’d quoted one of his favorite books. That’s pretty cool that he likes the same things you do. Especially your books. I didn’t think anyone knew about those Japanese books.”
“Those books are a study on the final acceptance of death by Samurai. It’s not morbid as it is more a study of the human psyche.
” I noticed Mom give him a curious look, and it was random that Dad would keep mentioning him.
I didn’t do well with innuendo or hints.
He knew this. “Are you trying to make a point?” I asked.
“You keep talking about him. I saw many clients today.”
“No, no reason,” he said, though I wasn’t sure I believed that. “It’s just that he was very nice and he said you’d quoted a poem. I thought you were a bit shy around him, that’s all.”
Shy?
“How was I shy?”
He sighed and eventually gave me a warm smile. “I thought you might have liked him, that’s all. You seemed a little struck by him, and I was just curious. Maybe you and he could be friends, at least. You have some things in common, and he’s new to town and about your age.”
“He’s two years older than me,” I said. He’d given his driver’s license, so . . . “He’s twenty-eight.”
Dad smiled. “Anyway, I thought we could go to the grand opening of his bookstore. That sounds fun, don’t you think?”
A weird thrill ran through me. Excitement, but also an uneasy jittery feeling I wasn’t sure I liked or not.
The thing was, I did like Winter. He was cute, and he cared for those two little kittens so much already.
My parents knew I liked guys, but I hadn’t acted on it, not since my early years at college, and that had been an experience I wasn’t eager to experience again.
But friends would be okay.
Nice, even.
Someone I could talk to about books. I didn’t have anyone like that in town. Mrs. McPherson loved reading, and Mr. Humphries loved history books, but there was no one my age.
I gave a nod, ignoring the heat in my face. “Yes, to the grand opening. Though if there’s a lot of people . . .” I made a face. “Maybe later in the afternoon.”
Dad smiled as if this made him extra happy for some reason.
He collected our empty plates and took them to the sink.
“Oh, Deac, just so you know, it’s totally acceptable to call a client and ask for an update on their pets.
I do it often. So if you’re worried at all about how those little kittens are doing or if he has any questions—he did mention a few times that he’s not experienced in such things—maybe a phone call couldn’t hurt. ”
Mom joined him at the sink and gave him a nudge, but I’d had enough conversation, enough interaction for one day.
“I’ll go shower now,” I said, getting up from the table.
“Leave the dishes, please. I’ll do them after our show.
I’m out of time.” I checked my watch. Goodness, it was later than we usually finished dinner.
I quickly went into my room and closed the door, unsure why my heart was thumping.
The time differential? I was normally showered by the time our show came on, and I didn’t like being late.
Or all the talk about Winter, and my dad telling me he could tell I’d liked seeing him today? Which was the truth. I’d never been able to hide my reactions. I knew other people had better control over that, and I knew other people cared about that.
The truth was, I did like Winter.
He was cute and gentle, and he loved books. But it couldn’t be anything more than that. I didn’t want it to be anything more than that, regardless of what my father alluded to. Or perhaps he hoped I’d make a friend and nothing more.
I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to ask.
I didn’t want to make Winter uncomfortable in the way I knew I often did. It was never my intention, but I’d been told several times in my life that I did make people uncomfortable sometimes, so it was usually best for everyone if I stayed away.
But I could call Winter. As my father had said. It would be within my professional duty to check on the kittens. So instead of focusing on seeing him again, I steered my train of thought to perhaps calling him.
Yes. I could call him.
Not tonight, of course. But tomorrow. To see how their first night went. To ask if he had any questions or if he needed any advice or suggestions.
Yes, now that I could do.
In fact, having made the decision that I would call him tomorrow made me happy, and not stressed about seeing him again or asking if he’d like to be my friend.
After my shower, I was getting dressed in my warm pajamas and slippers when Dad called out. “Our show’s about to start, Deac.”
I hurried out to the living room, seeing the dishes were done. “Oh. I said I’d do the dishes. It’s my job to do the dishes.”
“It only took me a few seconds,” Dad said. “But I’ll make a deal with you. You can make us a cup of tea during the ad break. Deal?”
I relaxed then and smiled as the intro music of Antiques Roadshow began. “Deal.”
I was more nervous than I thought I’d be. In fact, deciding to call Winter at a respectable 10:00 a.m. gave me a few hours in the morning to make myself regret eating breakfast.
I did see clients at the clinic, and that was a good distraction, but the looming phone call was always on my mind and made me quite useless. I found it difficult to concentrate, and I kept watching the clock.
Ten o’clock was so far away, and then it was coming too soon and I wasn’t prepared enough. Or ready.
And my tummy ache was getting worse. That jittery feeling was back, and I was certain now I didn’t like it. It made me anxious and that made me irritable and—
My dad took my hand, and I only realized then I’d been tapping my pen on the stainless-steel table.
I hated this feeling.
I pulled my hand free and let out a deep breath.
“Deacon,” Dad said, his voice serious. “I’ll need your help at ten when the Paul’s bring their ferrets in, so it would be best if you could call Mr. Atkins now.”
Of course I’d told him I’d call Winter at ten.
“Now?” I looked at my watch. It was only 9:42 a.m.
“Go on, his number’s right here,” he said, pointing to Winter Atkin’s details on the computer. He must have pulled them up because I hadn’t . . .
Had I really been that distracted?
“I don’t like this feeling,” I said.
“I know,” he said gently. Then he used his boss voice. “Call him now, please. We have clients waiting, and the Pauls will be here soon.”
Right. Yes. Work.
I had work to do.
Call Winter.
He’s just another client. No different from any other.
Except he was.
He liked poetry, and he knew the works of Haruki Murakami. He’d said it was a favorite, and I had to wonder what other books he liked.
And he was cute. He was shorter than me by at least two inches, had short brown wavy hair, bright brown eyes—when he wasn’t crying—and a gentle smile.
I had to call him.
My phone suddenly weighed ten pounds, my tummy twisted, and I felt both hot and cold.
Dad’s voice welcoming a client into his examination room spurred me into action. He needed my help at ten, so I had to do this now. I had a job to do, so I entered Winter’s number into my phone and hit Call.
He answered on the second ring, and it sounded like he dropped the phone. There was a clunk and muffled sound, then a bright, “Hello, Winter Atkins speaking.”
I froze.
“Hello?”
I blinked, my mouth suddenly dry. “Ah, yes,” I said. Then I had to clear my throat. “Winter, this is Deacon Clark. Deacon, from Hartbridge Veterinary Clinic.”
“Oh, Deacon,” he said. Then it sounded as if he’d fumbled something again, he mumbled again, and this was clearly not a good time.