Carolyn McSparren - Safe At Home

“I am Dr. Jacobi, and I do want you here. Besides, don’t let Pete fool you. We can well afford it. We desperately need the help. I’m not making that up.”

Suddenly he sounded formidable indeed. This must be the man who terrified vet students. “I don’t want to cause trouble,” she said in a small voice.

“Nonsense! You are just what my stubborn son needs. He’s turning into a hermit, and an ill-tempered one at that. Been too long since he had to deal with human beings. Animals don’t talk back, although the girls give a very close approximation when they’re pissed.”

“Why not?” she asked. “Human beings, I mean.”

He glanced at her. “Long story, and not mine to tell. Ask him when you know him a little better.”

The door opened at that moment, and the object of their conversation ducked to avoid smacking his head on the lintel. Suddenly the trailer seemed tiny.

Tala squeezed into her corner. Adam hadn’t been but a couple of inches taller than she, and slightly built, although muscular. She’d always felt comfortable with him, with his even temperament. The children took after him physically—slight, well-coordinated and athletic. Temperamentally they were more like Tala’s Cherokee grandmother, especially Rachel, who was anything but calm.

This man looked as though he could wrestle one of those elephants to the ground if he had to. And he seemed to have the nasty temperament of her granddaddy’s Jersey bull. What was his problem, for heaven’s sake?

She moved over even more to give him as much room as she could, and held her body as tight as possible. She heard the sizzle of pancake batter hitting hot fat and smelled the luscious aroma of pancakes—with something else. “Do you add vanilla?” she asked Mace.

“Ah, the girl has a good nose.”

“Not an asset around here,” Pete said. “There are times when the odors of wet hay, wet elephant and wet elephant droppings can peel paint.”

He was obviously trying to discourage her. “No worse than chickens,” she said. “Or pigs. And piles probably not much larger than a full-grown cow’s. I’ve cleaned up after all of those. And then, of course, there are babies. After two kids’ worth of dirty diapers, bad smells don’t bother me much.”

“That, m’dear, is something about which my son knows nothing whatsoever,” Mace said as he flipped the first saucer-size pancake expertly onto a plate.

Tala glanced at Pete. For some reason his father’s remark seemed to annoy him a lot more than it should have. Was this another bone of contention between them? Pete hadn’t made Mace a grandfather?

“Here you go, m’dear,” Mace said, and sat a short stack of steaming pancakes in front of her, followed in quick succession by a small collection of jugs and jars, and a butter dish. “Maple syrup, plain syrup, honey, blackberry syrup. Take your pick.” He beamed at her.

“This is too much. Dr. Jacobi, wouldn’t you like to take this one?”

“That’s about a quarter of what Pete puts away. His are coming up, and mine thereafter. The only problem with pancakes is that they require baby-sitting.”

Tala stopped in midpour. “Oh, God, can I use your phone?”

“Of course.” Mace looked puzzled. Pete stood and pressed his big body against the far wall so that she could squeeze through.

“Phone’s in my bedroom,” Mace said. “It’s set on intercom at the moment. Just punch one of the buttons. You’ll get a dial tone.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll keep your pancakes hot for you.”

Mace’s bedroom was as spartan as a monk’s cell and spotlessly clean. She picked up the telephone and punched a button, then dialed. The phone was answered on the first ring. “Irene?” she asked.

“Good Lord, Tala! Where on earth have you been? I’ve been calling your house since seven this morning. Ten more minutes and I was going to send Sheriff Craig to find out if you’d gone over the side of a cliff in the ice.”

“I’m so sorry, Irene. I meant to check in earlier.”

“Your phone out of order? I swear, Tala, Vertie and I have been frantic what with the sleet and all.”

“And the children?”

“Oh, I didn’t tell them I couldn’t reach you. They’ve had enough to worry about. The school finally decided to operate today. Two flakes, and they usually slam the doors. Wasn’t a bit like that when I was growing up. We went to school rain, sleet or snow.”

Tala relaxed. At least Rachel and Cody weren’t worried about her. Since Adam’s death, Rachel acted as though she never gave her mother a thought, but Cody worried constantly. Maybe Rachel worried as well, but she’d never let Tala know.

In the background she heard, “Has Miss Tala deigned to call at last? Give me that phone!”

A moment later Tala grinned at Vertie’s tone. “Why on earth do you think God gave us the telephone if not to keep in touch with our loved ones?”

“I’ve already apologized to Irene,” Tala said.

“Won’t do. My daughter-in-law forgives folks too easily. Apologize to me this instant, or I will drive myself out there personally and snatch you bald-headed, young lady.”

“Yes’m. I apologize.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“You drove off into the sleet at midnight and disappeared off the face of the earth. Is your phone dead? Did you have an accident?”

“No. I’m fine. I meant to come by this morning and have breakfast with all of you, but I slept a whole lot later than I planned. I’ll come by this afternoon on my way to work and tell you about it. If that’s all right,” she added.

“All right? It’s an order.”

After the usual pleasantries and a good deal of fending off questions, Tala hung up the phone. She was so lucky to have in-laws she adored and who adored her.

She felt her eyes well with tears. If not for Irene and Vertie, she’d never have survived Adam’s death. Couldn’t survive now, for that matter. But she had to aim for independence. As Tala had told the Jacobis, she was not afraid of hard work. And she was definitely not the type to turn into a white-gloved young matron drinking tea and eating sugar cookies.

Not that Vertie ever wore white gloves. Her grand-mother-in-law was more likely to be found in jeans, cowboy boots and a Stetson driving that Jeep of hers down the side of a mountain. Irene and Vertie were as different as could be, but somehow mother-in-law and daughter-in-law managed to scrape along in relative harmony in that big old Newsome mansion. Probably because Vertie spent most of her time traveling the world.

Tala had no intention of becoming the third-generation Newsome widow in that house. Not if she had to clerk at the Food Farm until she died.

Or spend the next twenty years shoveling elephant dung.

“IT’LL TAKE ME a couple of hours to pick up the stuff for the lion cage at the co-op and drive back out here,” Tala said an hour later as she was about to get into her truck. “And I need to stop by my in-laws’. Maybe I can see my kids after school. Is that all right? I can hardly wait to tell everybody about Baby.”

“You can’t mention Baby to anyone, Tala.” Pete’s voice was gruff.

“But—”

“The minute you tell even one person, the story’ll be all over town. Next thing you know, we’ll have the sheriff and the Wildlife people banging on the front gate with a search warrant.”

“I’ll swear them to secrecy,” she said, but her voice had dropped. She sighed as he simply stood and looked at her. After a moment, she said, “Of course you’re right. But what am I going to tell everybody about why I spent the night here?”

“Tell them your car got stuck. Tell them you had a flat tire. But whatever you do, and I can’t emphasize this enough, do not tell them about Baby. Promise?”