Chapter Ten
THEY EXITED THE Calvary property and turned left. Quiet and efficient, Eli’s monster vehicle climbed the hill. An oval lake came into view, a picturesque steeple on the far bank with a four-post open gazebo. Amarie gasped at the serene beauty, her heart cresting and falling as they drove by.
“It’s even prettier in the fall when it’s wrapped in lights,” Eli whispered.
“I can imagine.” Amarie let her mind drift to a future where she surrounded herself with beauty, family… community. If—no, when—they earned the money from the auction, she would rent an apartment, or one of the single-story ranch houses she’d viewed from Main Street. Amarie Walker, resident of Service, West Virginia. Yeah, she thought. Sounded perfect for her new beginning.
They turned right at a bend in the road. Amarie felt an audible pop in her ears from the change in altitude. Down the mountain they went, the drive much longer than she’d appreciated when she’d walked across one of the shorter Cattail Creek bridges with Leah. Roads widened in this area, and she’d spotted replica gas-lamp posts that would light the way in the darkness. Service had a shabby-chic elegance she liked.
“I answered your question about the clinic’s finances. It’s your turn to tell why you neglected to mention you lack transportation.”
“Honestly, you can’t help yourself,” she said, exasperated. “Do you see what you did? We were having a moment until you put a spoon in the peanut butter jar.”
Eli raised a brow, his forehead furrowed in confusion. “What?”
“You’re stuck. Get it… spoon in chunky butter. Let it go, Eli.”
“Not happening. So spill.”
“Ugh, why do you care?” She exhaled. “Fine. The job… your job was the only one listed in the bulletin. At first, I thought for sure I had it, then our masculine energies collided.”
“Say what kind of energy? How is this remotely related to your car?”
“Masculine. You know,” she explained, quite animated with her hands, “your grinch. My gremlin. I was nervous, and hungry. I just didn’t want to upset the power balance.”
“Energies and power shifts, you speak like a business executive.”
“Haha,” she scoffed. “You made a joke. Nothing executive about me. I’m just a graduate nurse with an exam to pass. I submitted a dozen job applications for entry-level nursing positions.”
He frowned at her. “I wasn’t joking, but… why not come clean at the end of the first day? And, this time, leave out the grinch and gremlin. What really stopped you from asking for help?”
“Embarrassment. Failure fatigue. I’m two years shy of thirty and my eighteen-year-old car died four hours into my fresh start. Everything I try fails. Is that what you wanted me to tell you? Is that what you needed to hear when I walked through your door at seven o’clock in the morning?”
“Cars break down, Amarie.”
She hung her head. “You don’t get it. I know that cars break down, but… timing matters. I needed to win on Monday. And meeting you, Leah, your brothers; corralling Adele; using my nursing skills in the clinic. It felt like I did something right, you know?” Amarie gave a humorless laugh. “It’s probably hard to comprehend, but getting hired, it felt monumental.”
“Not one bit.”
She’d been so proud to get a job without her parents vouching for her or her boyfriend bringing her on staff. Still, she felt the surge of dopamine at the operational improvements she’d introduced in the office. Personal accomplishment. How could she lose it after one taste? She hadn’t felt good about herself in years. Fighting to hold onto it came naturally. Admitting her desperate state would’ve crushed her.
“I’m in an on-again, off-again dance with heartache of my own making. Monday couldn’t be one of those days.” She didn’t want to be plagued by ANTS—automatic negative thoughts—every time she tried something new, but that was the pattern she’d devolved into. “I’m tired of losing.”
“Tell me about it, partner.”
“I just did. Are you listening?” Amarie sobered, not wanting to release the emotion she’d packaged away for years on Eli.
“Do you ever run out of one-liners?” He chuckled.
“No. Never. Suppose that’s something we have in common, boss.”
“Oh, that must be painful for—what did Mrs. Kline call you?—Saint Amarie.” His chest actually shook with laughter.
“Picking on your employees now?”
“Nope,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. “Commiserating with someone who understands. Your car going kaput sounds much worse than my default notice.”
“It is for me. I don’t have your responsibilities, but I don’t have your support system either. It’s just me.”
The muscles in his face slackened. “You’re serious?”
“As a paycheck.” She nodded. Without a family to rely on, she only had herself. Actually, she may be in worse shape than the Calvarys. While they had a countdown, she’d run out of time. “My parents, especially my father, would never approve.”
“That’s… it’s… I don’t have any experience with my family not being on my side.”
“I know. You’re lucky.”
“I suppose I am.”
“Happy now? I’m carless, penniless, and manless.” She stopped short of blurting out homeless. “I spilled the tea. My pitiful story of how I ended up on your step.”
“To answer the one question jumbled up in all those words: yes, I’m happy you told me. I’ll take truth over peace, every day of the year.”
“I’m not used to people reacting with kindness when I’ve needed assistance in the past. I expect less. Not more.”
“Don’t lump me in.” He chuckled at her growl. “I’ll be here if you need me. It’s gonna take some convincing for folks around here to believe we’re partners. You didn’t speak or look my way at the Black Bear the other night.”
So, he’d noticed. And why did that revelation cause a twinkle in her toes?
“News flash. You’re a little prickly for after-hours pleasantries, but I’m open to negotiation.” She paused. “With a caveat. Nothing can interfere with my evening study time. Passing my licensure exam is priority. Oh,” she pointed, “that’s my car over there.”
“Woman, I can see.”
“Rule number one, use your partner voice. And here’s a hint, that was not it.”
They parked on the rocky shoulder.
“Hiccup, stay put. Amarie, let’s go.”
“So bossy,” she muttered.
Amarie walked over to Prince. As if he was still in need of rest, pollen had settled on the hood, a soft blanket thick enough for her to write her name in it. And of course everything was as she left it; even the three goats were still there.
“Oh my gosh. Billie, Jean, and Diana. Good morning.” Her old friends bleated in greeting. Playful, they romped closer, the white frosting on their short-haired black coats gleaming against the backdrop of a green meadow.
“They don’t have names, Amarie.”
“Well, they do now.”
“You’re actually talking to the goats.”
“Look, it was two o’clock in the morning. It was either talk to them or Blair-Witch cry.”
Because for years, guilt had eaten away at her confidence, and it had become easier not to share her hopes and dreams with other humans.
Eli lowered his head before releasing a long sigh. “Don’t spring a leak. If folks see you crying, they’re going to lash out at me for hurting your feelings.”
“I’m not that sensitive.”
“Sure you aren’t,” he drawled.
“Stop being ornery. I’m going to say good morning to the goats as they caused me no trouble during my night vigil. Then, as your partner, I will stand back and observe your interaction. Always willing to learn from an expert in animal psychology.”
Eli said nothing.
“Hello? Partner? Communicating is fundamental to establishing healthy relationships.”
“So I’ve been told. Get on with it,” he rasped.
To the trio she squatted low and whispered, “I know it’s been days since our last chat, but I’ve been busy crossing items off my to-do list. I was a little nervous about how I was gonna make it in this town. But guess what, I got a job and a partner, of sorts. Eli,” she called, “come on over here and meet the ladies.”
“I see a pair of door knockers. Pretty sure one of the kids is male.”
“The devil is a liar” came her immediate retort. “They are entirely too level-headed with superb listening skills to possess Y chromosomes. And don’t call them children.”
Eli pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, city girl. Here’s a quick lesson. Young goats are called kids, both male and female. These are Nigerian Dwarf goats, a companionable, milk-producing breed. A group of kids is a tribe.”
“Thanks for that. Now go ahead,” she prompted. “Introduce yourself to the kids. And don’t be mean. They know my history with the opposite sex, and frankly, they were pretty judgy of my recent choices. And remember, partner voice. Not that barky thing you usually do.”
Talking with animals had always been easier than the complex psychology of human behavior. Telling Billie, Jean, and Diana her fears and dreams avoided all the side-eye glances and eyerolls from her family and friends (not Vali of course) counting her failures as justification for her to remain in a loveless arrangement. What she had with Russell never reached the “loving relationship” ideal. Six years saddled, yet single.
Eli raised one booted foot, propping it on the wooden fence separating the field from the shoulder of the road “What’s up, goats?”
“OMG, stop it. Just act normal.”
“You’re the one under the influence of farm animals, and I’m abnormal?”
The sound of someone clearing their voice had them both turning. “Morning, Eli.”
“Kanaan.” Eli dipped his head in greeting to the clean-shaven giant sporting a lush raven man bun, a khaki-colored T-shirt with the word Sheriff embroidered on the right breast pocket, and oil-stained denim. She had to applaud the uniform. The look worked for both roles. Next to Kanaan, trotting on short legs, was a sleek black-coat dachshund mix with floppy ears wearing what appeared to be a zippered vest filled with socket wrenches. Amarie had seen plenty of domesticated dogs with smart bow ties and frilly tutus, but never had she ever spotted a pooch that looked as if he had full-time benefits.
“And you must be—”
“Amarie,” she interjected, extending her hand in greeting while staring at Kanaan’s working canine, “the business partner to this beastly vet.” She hooked a thumb in Eli’s direction. “He tells me you’re also the sheriff here in Service, so why is your dog dressed like a roadside construction worker?”
Kanaan threw back his head and laughed, the sound hearty and filled with vitality.
“It’s true I’m the local sheriff. But seeing as I’m here in my capacity as a mechanic and this guy’s first cousin, Cocktail here,” he pointed to the pooch who’d wandered over to Eli’s truck and was now engaged in a barking conversation with Hiccup, “is my experienced assistant.”
“Cousins?” Amarie gave Eli a quizzical look. “My partner forgot to mention that detail, and Cocktail.” He’d recruited more of his family to help her. What a nice Mr. Grumpy Pants. Not that she planned to tell him.
“He forgot more than that.” Kanaan shook his head. “Eli never partnered with anybody growing up.”
“Dang it, Kanaan. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
The dog’s name piqued her interest. “Why did you name him Cocktail?”
He smiled, showing off a perfect set of white teeth. “He is a she.” He angled his chin in Eli’s vicinity. “A, ah, mix of different breeds. ‘Cocktail’ seemed fitting when Eli gave her to me. It was after I returned from serving in Afghanistan.” He shrugged. “My head was pretty messed up back then.”
Wow, Kanaan was a war hero. Before Amarie could thank him for his service, Eli cut in.
“Quit milking her for sympathy, K.”
“Oh, I see what’s happening. You want all her attention for yourself,” Kanaan teased. “Piano. Shot-putter. Javelineer. He did everything solo, Amarie. I’m only telling ya this because a nice lady like yourself should know what she’s getting into with Eli Calvary. But I swear I learn something undiscovered every time we get together, Eli.”
Kanaan still held her hand. And Eli, well, he looked… unwell.
“You do attract the prettiest ladies in town,” he said, proffering his corded forearm. “Hold on to that, pretty lady. Wouldn’t want to tumble.” He grinned. To Eli he said, “If you’re finished messing with the goats, I’ll hitch up Amarie’s beamer.”
“Oh, the perfect gentleman in denim.” Amarie smiled. No suits. Normally, she liked a man in a well-tailored suit, but she rather enjoyed the rugged masculine display of clingy cotton T-shirts and snug jeans on the men of Service.
Behind her Eli grunted, but she paid him no mind. Starting this evening, she would launch everything in her arsenal to make their bachelor auction a success. For now, she basked in the male attention. “Thank you for the warning on my partner, Sheriff.”
“Kanaan. The car. And Amarie, get over here. Stand by your partner,” Eli grumbled.
“Don’t worry. I’m not easily deterred.”
“Right.”
At the doubt echoing in his words, she turned, angling her head over her shoulder and up. Eli gave her a look that said he really did have some worry that Kanaan’s opinion would change her mind. Whereas in the loyalty department, Amarie did not. The Russells and Lourdeses of the world couldn’t win every battle. Not to toot her own tatas, but Amarie had six of years practice in loyalty. He could trust her, but could she trust herself not to mess things up?