Carolyn McSparren - Safe At Home

Pete’s annoyance evaporated. “Yeah. There’s a network of sanctuaries across the country. We’re all familiar with each other, whether we have elephants or big cats, or apes—whatever needs rescuing.”

“Then please keep her till you can find her a decent home!”

“You realize you’re asking me to break the law and costing me a bunch of money I need for the girls.”

“I can’t do anything about the law except to say that if anything happens I promise to take all the blame and get my mother-in-law to go to bat for you as well. She’s on the county council. As to the money—I’ve got a little saved up, and we can charge the stuff at the co-op, and maybe we can make some arrangement for me to work off the rest. I can pour cement and dig postholes.” She looked around the room. “You could use some help. I’m a hard worker, and I’m quick with figures.”

“If I need any help, which I don’t,” Pete said, “and can’t afford if I did, I’d want a man capable of shoveling elephant dung, not—”

“A skinny half-pint woman?” Tala asked. “Look, I’ve been digging and shoveling all my life. I can drive a tractor and use a front-loader with the best of them. I may be skinny, but I’m tough.” She shoved her sleeve up and made a fist at him.

He had to admit her arms were sinewy.

“I was born and raised on a dirt farm,” she continued. “Work doesn’t scare me. Besides that, I can type eighty words a minute, I can keep books, I can scrub floors, and I know how to use a computer.”

“Whoa!” Pete said.

“Honey,” Mace said gently from behind her back, “where were you coming from last night when you found Baby over there?”

“From work. I work the four-to-midnight shift as the assistant manager of the Food Farm.”

“Uh-huh. So you’re already commuting to town for an eight-hour day—or night. And Bryson’s Hollow is farmland, so you’re probably working a farm, at least part of the year. If you’re Irene Newsome’s daughter-in-law, I know you’re also a mother, without a husband to take up the slack. You plan to sleep sometime in the next century?”

Tala’s face flushed dark brick red. “We let the whole farm go fallow, so I’m not working the land. It never was much good for crops anyway—too hilly. Even Mr. and Mrs. Bryson gave up and moved to Florida a few years ago, although I don’t think they can bring themselves to sell the land their family settled in the 1700s. I can work a second job easy. I don’t need much sleep so long as I can spend the weekend with my kids—that’s not negotiable.”

“During the week?”

“They’re staying in town with their grandmother and great-grandmother.”

“Your kids aren’t with you?” Pete asked. He heard the disapproval in his voice. From the way her head snapped around and her chin went up, he knew she’d heard it, too.

“My boy is eight, makes honor roll, and already plays Pop Warner football in the fall and baseball in the spring. And my daughter is thirteen and into cheerleading and gymnastics. I can’t get them to all their practices and games and still work every night.” She shrugged. “Besides, Rachel hates the country, especially since…” She took a deep breath. “Her daddy died.”

“Still…”

“That’s the way it works out best for us, Dr. Jacobi.”

“I’m sure it is the best possible solution for the moment,” Mace said, darting an annoyed glance at his son. “But nobody can work all the time. A young woman should not be driving home by herself in a sleet storm after one o’clock in the morning. How much do they pay you at that Farm place?”

“Eight dollars an hour,” Tala whispered.

Pete closed his eyes. Not much. He wondered why she wasn’t getting some sort of pension from her husband’s death. At least she should have social security for the kids, food stamps, maybe ADC. She ought to be able to keep her children at home. But not if she had to leave them alone from before four in the afternoon until two in the morning.

“Fine. Then you come to work for us, and we’ll match your salary plus ten percent,” Mace said.

Pete gaped at him. “Mace, the money we’ve got is for the next elephant. We can’t afford—”

“Oh, yes, we can. I can, that is. Actually, m’dear, you’re cheap at the price. We expect you to get out enough fund-raising letters on that computer to more than pay your way.”

“Wait a minute, Dad. We can barely afford health insurance for ourselves, much less for an entire family.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” Tala smiled at him. “We still have Adam’s insurance. The kids are covered until they’re eighteen, and I’m covered until I go on Medicare.”

Mace walked over and took both her hands. “You would make an old man very happy indeed if you’d take our job and quit working until all hours of the morning. I promise you the hours here will give you much more time for after-school activities with your children.”

Inwardly, Pete groaned. He did not need or want anyone underfoot, certainly not this woman who gave him urges he’d been quashing. He didn’t have time for urges.

Suddenly, all three elephants lifted their trunks and trumpeted. Everyone jumped. Tala looked up at them and laughed that glorious glittery laugh once more. “They know, don’t they?” she said to Mace.

“Of course, m’dear, they know everything.” Mace dropped his arm across Tala’s shoulders. “And obviously they approve. Now, it’s time for my world-famous pancakes. We have to put some meat on those bones. Coming, Pete?”

Pete watched as Mace helped Tala on with her parka and ushered her out into the frigid, but blessedly sunny, morning. Instantly, the girls swung away from their bars and walked purposefully toward the door to their enclosure that led out to the pastures beyond. They were going outside to meet Tala at close quarters.

He closed his eyes. What he felt was envy. She had a quality that endeared her to animals and people alike. Mace was no pushover, yet here he was simpering away like Maurice Chevalier.

And here Pete was once more—odd man out, even when it came to his very own elephants.

“Blast it, they’ll scare her half to death,” he swore and trotted out the door.

“AH, GLORIOUS MORNING,” Mace Jacobi said, linking Tala’s arm through his. “The roads should be completely dry in another hour.”

Tala started to reply, then noticed that the girls had silently meandered up behind her. How could they be so huge yet move so quietly?

She turned and caught her breath. Without bars, and in direct sunlight, she realized how monumental they were. She shaded her eyes with her hands, stared up at them and gulped. Mace patted her arm.

“Just checking you out, m’dear,” he said, and walked on. “They’ve already said they approve.”

Tala squared her shoulders and followed him, expecting any moment to feel the thud of a trunk on the top of her head. When they reached the steps of Mace’s trailer, however, she turned to see that the girls hadn’t moved, but were swaying back and forth in unison like overweight chorus girls. She smiled and waved at them, then followed Mace inside.

“Let me take your coat,” he said. “And how do you like your coffee?”

“Black, please.”

“You should have cream and sugar, but we’ll make up for that. The pancake batter is already in the refrigerator. I simply have to pour and flip. Please sit down. It’s cramped, I know, but I don’t normally have company, certainly not so beautiful nor so early.”

How could anyone be afraid of this man? Tala thought. He was as courtly as a knight, unlike his grumpy son. Her breath quickened as the face of that son rose up unbidden behind her eyes. He was nearly as big as the elephants, and a good deal scarier. “I don’t think Dr. Jacobi wants me here,” she said as she reached for the cup of steaming coffee Mace handed to her.