Carolyn McSparren - Safe At Home

Her right hand lay draped over the arm of the couch. The hand was thin and almost too fine-boned. Her nails were short and unvarnished, but well kept. He realized with a pang that he hadn’t noticed whether she wore a wedding ring or not, and suddenly hoped that she didn’t.

Pete shook his head, surprised at himself for his interest in her. He tiptoed past the couch and opened the door to the back room silently, then slipped through.

The lioness lay on her right side with her bandaged shoulder up. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her mouth gaped. Her tongue lolled from the corner of her mouth.

For a panicky moment he was afraid she wasn’t breathing, then he saw the slow rise and fall of her rib cage.

“Morning, son,” said a voice behind him. “Gave her another shot for pain. She has been sleeping the sleep of the innocent and pure of heart for some time. Where’s your lady friend?”

“Doing the same, although she might not be so pure and innocent if she’s driving country roads alone at two in the morning.”

Mace Jacobi grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “What’s that old song about preferring the sadder but wiser girl? Especially one as good-looking as that.”

“Too scrawny. I didn’t know there was a New-some daughter.”

“There isn’t. Irene Newsome lost her only child more than a year ago. He was something fairly high up in the Fish and Wildlife. Supposedly shot by a poacher. Had a wife and a couple of kids. That’s probably his widow you’ve got on your couch.” Mace slapped a couple of white-wrapped packages on the steel table, looked at them over his bifocals and began to unwrap them. “I haven’t had time to feed the girls yet.”

“No problem. I’ll do it.” Pete hooked a bale of alfalfa and carried it toward the elephant enclosure. The girls waited impatiently, trunks swinging, their beady black eyes expectant. “What are you doing, Dad?” he asked on his way by.

“I started thawing a couple of deer-neck roasts last night. Thought I’d carve ’em up for Tala’s baby over there. She’s going to be mighty hungry when she wakes up.”

“If she wakes up.”

Mace peered at him over his glasses. “Oh, she’ll wake up, all right. You did a good job. Every bit as good as I was at your age.”

Pete broke the wires on the alfalfa and tossed fat green flakes through the bars for his girls. “Good morning, girls,” he said with affection. They looked down their trunks at him. Once again he was aware of how differently they responded to Mace. They were much warmer toward his father. Pete seemed to have lost his “trunkside manner.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to sleep so long,” came a soft voice from behind him. Amazingly, his girls raised their heads in unison and lifted their trunks toward the voice. They never greeted him like that.

He’d long since realized that elephants were a whole lot more perceptive than human beings. The girls were aware of his fondness for them, but no matter how well he fed, scrubbed, pampered and babied them, they still treated him with a kind of offhand exasperation. Maybe they sensed his unhappiness—his guilt over past mistakes. Maybe one day they’d decide he’d made the grade and grant him their complete trust and affection.

“You were exhausted, m’dear,” said Mace without looking up from the meat cleaver in his hands. “As soon as I get this done, we’ll go over to my trailer and I’ll make us all a good hot breakfast. The coffee’s already on.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’ve already—”

“Nonsense,” Mace rumbled. “My pancakes are legendary.” He peered over his glasses at her. “You could use some honey and maple syrup.”

Tala went to the lioness’s cage and hunkered down. “How is she?” she whispered.

“As well as can be expected,” Pete answered. “Dad doped her up again for the pain.”

She put her left hand against the wire mesh and caressed the lioness gently. “Sweet Baby,” she said. The lioness rumbled softly.

She wore no wedding ring. Pete was surprised at the relief he felt. Then as he leaned forward he saw that she wore a gold chain around her neck. Two gold bands, one larger and wider than the other, hung on the chain. Her wedding ring? Her dead husband’s? He sighed.

Not that he was looking for a relationship. Not after Val. His heart lurched at the memory of Val, and his never-ending guilt.

Her fingers toyed gently with the pelt on the lioness’s head. Pete took a deep breath at the thought of those fingers curling in the heavy mat of hair on his chest. He set his jaw, furious with himself that he’d allowed even that momentary distraction.

After a moment, Tala stood up easily and gracefully, something not many women could do from that kind of position.

Pete realized he was staring. No, glaring was more like it. She was too thin, all right, but definitely stood out in the right places. She’d plaited her dark hair into a single braid that hung down her back almost to her waist. The overhead light cut shadows under her strong cheekbones. Showed the circles under her eyes as well, unfortunately.

She smiled at him tentatively. “I folded the bed-clothes and the shirt and put them on the foot of your bed,” she said.

He rumbled something at her. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her eyes. He’d never seen eyes that dark or that wide on a human being. They tilted at the corners, and even without makeup her lashes swept her cheeks.

“Last night you said you’d introduce me,” she said and walked over to him. She moved like a dancer. Maybe she’d been a dancer at one time. Could be that was the reason she was so thin.

“Sure.” Why did he always sound so abrupt when he spoke to her? “Sophie is on the right, the one in back is Sweetiepie, and the big one is Belle.”

“She’s the one that patted my head with her trunk last night and nearly scared me witless,” Tala said, smiling over his shoulder.

He gaped at her. “She touched you?”

“Through the bars. Very gently. I knew you had elephants, of course, but I didn’t know how many, and I hadn’t seen them before. I was half-asleep in that old kitchen chair pushed right up against them. I didn’t realize it was their cage.”

He bristled. “They’re not caged. Not any longer.”

“I loved it.” She leaned against the bars. “They are beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Should have seen them when they got here,” he said. “Skin and bones.”

Mace looked up over the tops of his glasses. “The bars are to keep them from investigating—actually I mean destroying—this room. Elephants are endlessly curious. Unfortunately, they are also incredibly destructive while they’re about it.”

“But last night, Belle touched me so gently.”

“She wasn’t interested in seeing the inside of your brain,” Pete said. “But if she decided to see the inside of that cabinet over there—” he pointed toward the drug cabinet “—she would just as carefully knock it over and stomp it until the doors popped off to check out what’s inside.”

“Oh.” Tala glanced at the girls, who were keeping one eye on her while they bundled hay into their mouths. “Would you do that?” she asked Sophie.

As if in answer, Sophie dipped her head and curled her trunk.

Tala laughed.

Pete jumped. Her laugh was low, but it seemed to glitter in the chill air. Suddenly he felt as though he’d happily stick on a false nose and do pratfalls over floppy clown shoes if he could hear her laugh again. Too long without a woman, he decided, that was all it was. Too much Mace, too many elephants, not enough human companionship.

A low growl came from the lioness’s enclosure. Tala looked at her quickly. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake the baby.”