Ruth Jean Dale - Something About Ewe

Thalia! The name galvanized Luke and he shot to his feet.

“My goodness.” Miss Pauline frowned. “I didn’t expect quite that reaction.”

He sat back down. “I just remembered something I have to do later,” he apologized lamely. “Of course, I remember Thalia. Is she still living in California?”

“Yes, indeed. Apparently she has some free time—something about her company merging with another company. I’m not real clear on the details, but she’ll be home for a month or so, I understand.” Her tone dropped lower. “Lorraine’s been quite concerned about her since the divorce.”

“Was it nasty?”

“Good heavens, no. Quite the opposite, apparently, but you know how mothers are. They worry when their children are far away and—” She let out a little gasp of pleasure and rose to her feet with surprising spryness. “Gertrude! You poor little thing, let me take you home and nurse you back to health.”

A smiling Cindy passed over the huge white cat. Gertrude purred loudly and pressed her head against Miss Pauline’s neck above the lacy collar of her navy-blue dress. The cat looked none the worse for her experience.

Cindy offered a small brown paper bag stapled closed, a white prescription label pasted on the outside. “Here’s her medicine, Miss Pauline. You put drops in her ear every—”

Satisfied that another crisis had been averted, Luke turned away with a farewell wave. Miss Pauline and Gertrude would be just fine.

So would he, especially now that he knew Thalia was back. Thalia, serious little Thalia, the girl who never left anything to chance. Just thinking about her made him smile.

He entered the gleaming examining room and paused, his thoughts tumbling. He hadn’t seen her in years. Would she be changed? Would she look different, act different…want different things?

He hoped not, he surely did, because once upon a time she’d wanted him.

“HEY, YOU, WAKE UP!”

Luke snapped upright over his desk and blinked. Turning in his chair, he gave his mentor a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Gene,” he said. “I was thinking.” He was supposed to be doing paperwork but was having trouble concentrating, with Thalia very much on his mind.

“Obviously.” Gene Miller pushed back the extra chair and sat. “If it wasn’t September, I’d think you had spring fever.”

“Yeah, well…” Luke couldn’t argue with that.

“Obviously I’m going to have to keep an eye on you.” Gene chuckled. “I wouldn’t be young again for all the tea in China—but I digress. I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving now. Doris is waiting for me to go to Denver with her to pick out the new carpeting.” He made a face. “Like I care what shade of blue it is, but you know women.”

“Not as well as I’d like to.” Suppressing a smile, Luke opened the top folder on the stack. “You go ahead and take off. I’ll hold the fort and see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, kid.” Gene rose. “I knew there was a reason I hustled you into coming back here to work with me after you got your license. What I don’t know is why you agreed—but I’m not asking!” He held up his hands, grinning and backing toward the door. He looked, as always, rumpled and friendly.

The door closed behind him. Luke looked back down at the files without enthusiasm. He hadn’t become an animal doctor to deal with paperwork. He’d done it because he liked animals, all animals, and truly believed that people who owned animals were superior to those who didn’t.

But lately he’d become increasingly aware of one tiny little hole in a life filled with professional satisfaction and hometown approval. That lack came under the heading of feminine companionship.

He hadn’t given more than a passing thought to romance since his return, although he had known a lot of women when he got here and had met more since. None had attracted him the way he wanted to be attracted, so he hadn’t bothered to pursue any of them beyond a casual date or two.

But he was plenty bothered now. Thinking about Thalia Myers Mitchell brought back memories eleven long years old—memories of “doing the right thing,” or more precisely, not doing the wrong thing.

Yes, she’d been a mere sixteen to his almost twenty-one. On the other hand, she’d picked him to relieve her of her virginity, a rational decision made with her usual thoroughness. He should have been flattered—hell, he had been flattered. And attracted. And confused. And at the last minute, responsible.

He knew he’d hurt her feelings when he turned her down, as he finally had to do out of deference to her youth and inexperience—and a little bit of deference to her brother, John. John and Luke had been best buds all through school and Luke didn’t want their friendship to come to blows. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could lick the guy.

So he’d done what he knew was the right thing, although it hadn’t been easy. Nor did it get easier with time. He and Thalia were never comfortable around each other again; the encounter had left them with unfinished business, as far as he was concerned. She probably felt the same, he mused, doodling all over the manila folder. Now that age was no longer an issue between them, why shouldn’t he think about making up for lost time?

The door flew open and Cindy entered, a concerned frown on her face. “Are you okay?” she asked bluntly. “I’ve been knocking on that door for five minutes—okay, two minutes, but it seemed longer. I was beginning to think you’d sneaked out the back way with Doc.”

“I might as well. I can’t seem to concentrate on this stuff.” He pushed the files away and glanced at his wristwatch. “Maybe if I had something to eat—”

“You mean you haven’t had lunch yet?” Cindy, a motherly type with several grown kids, tsked-tsked. “Honestly, Luke, you and Doc are cut from the same cloth. Why don’t I go next door to the Paper Sack and grab you a sandwich, okay? I was coming to tell you that Mrs. Bushmiller just canceled Trixi’s appointment, so unless something else comes up, you should be able to get out of here by five today.”

“Okay, but—”

“No buts. It’s almost three o’clock and Jimmy Morton’s dog needs shots at three-fifteen, remember? I’ll be back in a flash with a ham and cheese on rye. Don’t argue!”

He didn’t.

AT A LITTLE AFTER FIVE that day, Thalia Mitchell paused in front of the large glass windows of the Sew Bee It Craft and Fabric Shoppe, next door to the Paper Sack on the main drag of Shepherd’s Pass, Colorado. Just inside, where he’d have a view of passersby, a big striped cat basked in the sun on a carpeted shelf attached to the window ledge. Behind him was a sewing machine always set up and at the ready. Pins and fabric scraps covered a cutting table littered with mats and rotary cutters, and brightly flowered fabrics draped a dressmaker’s dummy.

Some things never changed, she thought. Tapping her fingertips lightly against the glass, she managed to attract the cat’s attention. He looked up with an annoyed scowl, then closed insolent amber eyes.

Thalia couldn’t help smiling. It was wonderful to be home in the Colorado mountains on this gorgeous September day—and a little strange, too. She’d been gone such a long time, since high school, actually. Once she’d departed for college she’d never really come back for more than a few weeks at a time.

She’d spent the past several years in Southern California, which was a far cry from Colorado any way you sliced it. With a sigh, she pushed open the heavy glass door and entered the cozy shop, a tinkling bell announcing her arrival.

Several browsing customers glanced at her with brief curiosity. The young woman rearranging items on the back wall looked around with a smile and promptly dropped several bolts of fabric.