Bonnie Winn - Substitute Father

Kealey’s mouth opened and he angled his head a bit, wanting suddenly to know the taste of her.

Then she pulled away slightly, her feet again sliding awkwardly, her laughter strained. “I can’t seem to stay upright.”

In an instant he pictured her lounging against him, and with a silent curse, he moved back as well. “It’s just a matter of balance.”

“Oh,” she replied in a small, very small voice.

He cleared his throat. “Let’s get off this cement and onto the rink.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

Despite the effect her proximity had on him, he found himself laughing. “You won’t learn by standing here. And you’ll find it’s harder to stand still than to actually skate.”

Kealey was clearly doubtful. “That’s hard to believe.” She moved her feet a bit and started to topple.

Although she grabbed for the railing, Luke was there first, catching her. “And if you do fall, it hurts less on the wood than on cement.”

“I suppose so,” she replied, still looking skeptical.

He pointed at Hannah and Troy, who skated alongside Brian, all looking like mini professionals. “Don’t tell me you can’t keep up with kindergartners and first graders.”

“Without wheels I can do just fine,” she retorted, her feet slipping as he coaxed her nearer to the wooden floor.

“Just hang on to me. I don’t think you can pull me down.”

For a moment her face took on a satisfied bit of glee. “Don’t count out the possibility.”

“Why, Miss Fitzpatrick, I believe you’re losing your professional demeanor.”

“Think so?” she muttered, her gaze glued to her wildly skittering feet.

He laughed.

For a moment she glared at him. Then humor forced her lips upward, lifting her face into lines of laughter. In the next moment, she was veering to one side, nearly toppling again.

Still laughing, Luke caught her, and again they were face-to-face only inches apart.

Some of the laughter lingered in her eyes, he noted, while inventorying the effect of her nearness. But as he continued to hold her, it faded, replaced by a growing wariness.

“Luke!” Troy called, skidding to a near stop.

Luke glanced fondly at the youngest Baker child. “Having fun?”

Troy bobbed his head up and down, staring at Kealey. “Don’t you know how to skate?”

She colored a bit, then met his gaze. “I’m afraid not.”

“Don’t be ’fraid,” he told her nonchalantly. “I didn’t used to know how to skate neither. But Brian showed me how.” His eyes lit up. “And I could show you.”

Luke met Kealey’s hesitant eyes. “Troy and I could both help you.”

“Sure,” Troy readily agreed.

The youngster put out his hand, and Luke saw the change in her expression. Before he could speculate about it, she clasped Troy’s hand.

Luke took her other hand, feeling her fingers stiffen within his. He leaned close, whispering so only she could hear. “You’d better let me hang on to you. I don’t think Troy can keep you from crashing.”

After a moment, she nodded in acknowledgment, the movement rigid and controlled.

He wanted to tell her to relax, that he was no more a threat than Troy. But the thought dwindled, replaced by a realization of another sort. Perhaps she should be wary.

Shocked by the perception, he didn’t see the skaters slowing down in front of him. Even as he, Kealey and Troy crashed into the line of skaters, Luke couldn’t shake that last thought. And the fact that he couldn’t was more frightening than flying bodies and upended skates.

AS THE OLDEST CHILD, Brian had always taken his responsibilities seriously. So when Luke had assigned the children chores, Brian was relieved. He needed to know he had a place in Luke’s house and that he was contributing. His younger siblings didn’t have quite the same need or understanding. However, there was no whining or complaining among them.

But it was Brian who shone under Luke’s tutelage. Soon, he had learned his way around Luke’s surgery and boarding areas. He had a genuine interest in the animals and they sensed it. However, Bentley was the one who adopted Brian, who decided they were a pair. The big retriever was always at his feet, shadowing the boy with uncommon devotion. And something in Brian seemed to loosen because of it.

Luke watched as the boy precisely filled water and food dishes, carefully reading the tags on each cage. It was still early in the morning, so early that they hadn’t yet eaten breakfast, so early that the school bus wouldn’t be by for more than an hour.

Luke would have been happy if the boy only helped out for half an hour or so. It was what he’d expected initially. But Brian didn’t seem to mind, eagerly taking on more and more responsibility.

And after the first morning, Luke hadn’t had to wake the boy. Brian was up at dawn, running down the stairs to the clinic. Ignoring the lure of early-morning cartoons, he walked among the cages of the ill pets and through the kennels of those that were boarded.

And he patiently taught his younger siblings to help as well. In the afternoons, the three of them swept and hosed down the floors. They had even figured out how to work together to load the bags of food on to wheelbarrows, hauling them inside. It was heartening for Luke to see that they truly cared for the animals.

Hannah, the little mother, babied the kittens and puppies, and Troy mimicked Brian’s actions, believing his older brother to be nearly perfect.

Seeing that Brian was at the last row of cages, Luke stepped forward. “How’s the schnauzer?”

“Better,” Brian replied seriously. “He ate more of his food.”

“Water?”

“More than yesterday.”

“He’s a scrappy pup,” Luke replied. “He’ll make it.”

Relief blossomed on young Brian’s face, but he wasn’t yet comfortable with expressing his feelings. “Good.” Despite the brevity of his words, he reached to scratch Bentley’s ears in a heartfelt motion. The retriever looked adoringly at the boy.

“It’s easy to get attached to the animals,” Luke told him casually. “I’m not supposed to since I’m the doctor, but it’s there anyway.”

Brian studied him. “What if they die?”

“I know I can’t save them all, even though I try my best. A doctor’s supposed to remain detached but I became a vet because I love animals, so it saddens me to lose one.”

“But most of ’em get better, don’t they?”

Luke smiled at the touch of optimism Brian was regaining. “For the most part. Now, you’d better eat your breakfast.”

A half shrug of skinny shoulders told Luke that Brian hadn’t planned to take the time to eat.

Luke clapped a hand on those same shoulders, ignoring their stiffening. “Nothing special this morning—just oatmeal. Let’s get washed up, then round up your brother and sister.”

Brian, however, was frowning. “I didn’t finish cleaning up the back.”

“There were more dogs and cats to feed this morning, which took you longer. Wayne and I can clean up the kennels.”

Brian’s shoulders stiffened even further. “I want to earn my keep.”

Luke stopped, turning Brian so that he could face him. “I’m glad you have such a strong sense of responsibility, and I really appreciate all the help you’ve given me. And I think it’s a good idea for kids to have chores—I had plenty growing up.” Luke made sure that Brian met his eyes. “But chores or no chores, you have a place with me here. That’s not going to change if a few kennels don’t get cleaned on time. You understand?”

Longing filled Brian’s eyes and he had to bite down on his lip to keep it from trembling. Still a trace of fear lingered. “I don’t want to let you down.”