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Abby jumped at the sound of a woman’s voice. “You scared me.” Abby hadn’t noticed Janie Anderson, one of the inn’s employees, standing in the corner of the porch with a watering can in her hand. “And thank you.”
“I’m sorry.” The older woman continued to water the plants while she spoke. “You can get lost in Mazie’s jungle of flowers out here. I hear you have a date with our Mr. Tanner this evening.”
Well that didn’t take long to spread around. “I wouldn’t call it a date. We’re meeting over dinner to discuss my mysterious sister.”
“Yes, I’ve heard. Sounds exciting. I’m sorry I don’t remember your parents from back then. I even looked through some of my old photos last night. My husband, Alfred, is an avid hobby photographer and I swear we have stacks of photos from every parade and festival Ramblewood’s ever seen. Of course, I don’t know what I’m looking for, either, but you are more than welcome to look through whatever we have.”
“Really?” Maybe she’d find a photo of her parents, or one of her father and another child. “That’s very generous of you.”
“Any time you want to come over, you let me know. I can’t say my Alfred is the most organized man, but the photos are in some semblance of order.”
Abby couldn’t wait to tell Clay the exciting news. Maybe the newspaper archives would have something about her father, too, but she was certain Clay would look into that on his own. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to mention it.
A week ago, Ramblewood, Texas, hadn’t been a blip on her radar. She’d arrived in town so quickly she had a hard time distinguishing one day from the next. Now that she was here, thoughts she hadn’t considered complicated the situation.
Did her sister have a relationship with Walter? Did they see each other often? Maybe Abby wasn’t the only one he sent notes to. And maybe his yearly scavenger hunts weren’t just for her.
“Are you all right?” Janie motioned for Abby to sit in one of the rockers.
“I’m sorry.” She needed to escape her own head for a bit. She sat and Janie joined her. “I guess the reality of the situation is finally hitting me. To be honest, I thought it already had. I mean, the first big step was coming here, right? Then when I hired Clay, I thought that was the big step. In actuality, they’re all little steps to finding the truth. The idea of having a sister that I never knew of is very surreal.”
“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re handling yourself beautifully,” Janie said.
“Thank you. When I first considered hiring an investigator I had my doubts anything would come of this. It was more wishful thinking, but when I was sitting in the Bark Park and then walking around town, I got this feeling—an indescribable draw that was telling me this is where I’m supposed to be.” Abby looked up to see Janie listening intently. “I must sound crazy, but in my heart, I know it’s only a matter of time before Clay finds the answers and then what? How do you make up for all that lost time?”
“You take it day by day, dear.” Janie rested her hand on Abby’s knee. “Don’t worry about what happens next. Concentrate on what you do know so you can find her.”
“I don’t mean to sound pitiful. I haven’t allowed myself to think about the end result, and it’s kind of hitting me all at once.”
“That’s normal,” Janie said. “I would say it’s part of the grieving process over your father, too. Allow yourself to feel, but don’t cross the line into dwelling on it.”
Abby knew Janie was right. Seeing patients with disabilities and traumatic injuries every day, she had learned to appreciate everything she had. One of her old professors used to say, “As long as you’re aboveground, there’s always a bright side.” Abby lived by those words. They were why she never allowed her patients to give up, even when they suffered a setback.
But one question had plagued Abby since she had received Walter’s note. Why would anyone keep her sister’s existence a secret?
* * *
CLAY PULLED HIS TRUCK into the Bed & Biscuit parking lot. He shut off the engine and sat with the keys in his hand. He swallowed drily. This was dinner to discuss Abby’s case, nothing more.
Then why did he need to keep reminding himself it wasn’t a date? Because he wanted it to be a date and that made him feel worse than his nerves did.
Clay was attracted to Abby more than he cared to admit. When her background check revealed she was a physical therapist, he’d been intrigued. He had figured her more the clothing-designer type. Or an art dealer, maybe. A physical therapist was completely unexpected.
He inhaled deeply in a vain attempt to steady his uneven pulse. Failing miserably, he climbed from his mud-caked truck, cursing himself for not washing it. He proceeded around to the front of the inn where Abby waited for him in one of the rocking chairs. The warmth of her smile was echoed in her eyes. She met him halfway down the stairs, and he once again wondered how she managed to remain upright in such high heels. She looked beautiful in an effortless way.
Clay hoped he had the sense to keep that opinion to himself. Abby was a client and he refused to cross that line.
You already have.
“Are you ready to go?” Clay’s voice broke. Abby’s eyes widened slightly, but fortunately she let it slide without comment. Clay hadn’t been remotely close to this nervous since the night he had proposed to Ana Rosa. A perpetual reminder that he couldn’t blur the lines between client and romance. Not that romance was on the table. He wouldn’t tarnish Ana Rosa’s memory by having a fling with Abby, or anyone else for that matter.
Abby faced the sidewalk. “Since it’s so beautiful out tonight, do you mind if we walk? It’s still beastly humid back home and I’m loving this Texas weather.”
“You want to walk to New China in those shoes?” Clay didn’t think she’d make it fifty feet, let alone all the way down Main Street.
“I assure you I’ll be fine. I’m quite capable of putting one foot in front of the other.”
“Don’t those things hurt your feet?” Clay opened the wrought-iron gate leading to the sidewalk and held it for Abby.
“Listen, I usually wear sneakers when I’m at work, and anything without a heel makes me feel like a twelve-year-old. Scratch that, most preteens are taller than I am. I wear heels so I can at least look like a grownup.”
“If you say so.” Clay found himself scrambling to keep up with her quick pace. “Are we race walking?”
Abby stopped and stared at him. “I’m sorry. I have to remind myself I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere while I’m here. My schedule is usually packed and I tend to run nonstop. I assume you completed my background search. Did I check out okay?”
Yes, you managed to check right into my every waking thought. “I was surprised to discover you’re a physical therapist.”
“What were you expecting...a personal shopper?” Abby teased. “Most people don’t peg me for a PT because of my size, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years working with my patients, the only limitations are within your heart. I may be small, but I can do anything I put my mind to.”
Clay admired Abby’s confidence. He wished some of it would rub off on him tonight because while she appeared composed, he was the exact opposite.
He’d worked undercover in dangerous sting operations and helped take down some of the country’s most dangerous criminals, all while managing to keep his nerves in check. Yet a simple walk with an attractive client left him jumpier than spit on a hot skillet. It didn’t help that the more Abby spoke of her work, the more impressed he became. By the time they were ready to order their dinner, he found himself captivated by the stories she told about her patients.
“I’ll have the chicken lo mein, no mushrooms, and an egg roll, please.” Abby handed her menu to the waiter.
Clay enjoyed a woman who ate real food and didn’t pick at a salad while he chowed down on General Tso’s shrimp and fried rice.
“I take it you’re using your vacation time to come to Ramblewood.” A part of Clay wished she’d be called back to work on some emergency so his heart rate could return to normal.
“It wasn’t exactly planned. I basically decided I needed to get away from the hospital for a few weeks.” Abby dipped a crunchy noodle into a small bowl of duck sauce and popped it into her mouth. “We’re not exactly seeing eye to eye right now.”
“About what?” Clay knew he should steer his questions toward her family, but curiosity drove him to ask why she needed a break from a job she clearly enjoyed.
“Animal-assisted therapy. My dog, Duffy, is a therapy pet, and we make the rounds of nursing homes and rehab centers. Just having a dog present transforms a room into something more familiar than a hospital bed and beeping machines. A brain tumor patient had been in ICU for a month and wouldn’t open her eyes or react to any stimuli until we brought Duffy in. We put a sheet on the bed and he climbed up and lay beside her. Instantly, this woman put her hand on Duffy and opened her eyes. It was a life-changing experience for me. I’ve been trying to persuade the hospital to induct a program of its own.”
“How’s that going?”
“They’ve rejected my proposal three times. They would need to dedicate a team to research the program first. They feel it would cost too much money. Money they’d rather spend on conventional therapy with years of scientific study behind it.” Abby broke a noodle in half and tossed it onto the table. “I told them I had already conducted a preliminary inquiry on the grants available and I’m willing to chair any events that would bring in donations to the program.”
“Can you manage to take all of that on yourself?” Based on the determined lift of her chin and the challenge of her gaze, Clay knew the answer before she responded.
“I know it won’t be easy, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes. This is personal for me. When I was a kid, I stuttered horribly. Other kids made fun of me. Everyone was always telling me to think before I spoke, which only made things worse.” She shrugged. “I didn’t have a problem thinking. I had a problem getting the words out of my mouth. My speech therapist told me to talk to my dog, alone, with no one else around, and you know what? I didn’t stutter when it was just Ebony and me.” Abby laughed. “I’m not saying that talking to him cured me, but it taught me to have confidence in myself. And, I still have my moments and my bad days when I stumble over my words, but who doesn’t? I’ve had dogs my entire life and they’ve gotten me through some rough times.” Her face suddenly reddened. “Wow, I’m monopolizing the conversation.”
“No, you’re not.” The waiter set their meals on the table. Clay had intended to discuss Abby’s family, but his interest in the woman became more personal the more she spoke about her work. “You remember the woman that referred you to me, Kay Langtry? She runs the Dance of Hope Hippotherapy Center, where they use the horses’ movements to treat people with injuries and disabilities. I think you’d find it fascinating. I’m sure she’d love to give you a behind-the-scenes tour.”
Abby bumped her water glass, sloshing some of it onto the table in her excitement. “You’re kidding me!” She used her napkin to clean up the mess, and continued talking without missing a beat. “I never thought to look up animal-assisted therapy centers while I was here. I would love to see the place. Kay had told me she owned a ranch and to ask anyone in town to show me the way.”
“I’d be happy to take you.” Clay felt his stomach knot the moment he said the words. He’d crossed the line. Again. The desire to see her expression when she saw Dance of Hope and the therapy they provided almost made him want to clear his schedule tomorrow and drive her out there first thing. If he were smart, he’d give her directions and send her on her way, but logic had escaped him the moment he’d asked her to dinner.
“I’d love that. Thank you.”
Abby beamed—her face literally glowed with anticipation, and in that instant, Clay realized his attraction to her was more than the superficial desire he had originally thought. Despite her glitzy exterior, she was one of the more down-to-earth and genuine people he’d met in ages.
Clay watched Abby masterfully twirl her lo mein noodles with her chopsticks, a feat he never thought possible. The woman continued to surprise him every minute. The fact she had volunteered to be a part of a Doctors Without Borders physical therapy program in Ghana, Africa, last year warmed a place in his heart he hadn’t known still existed.
He needed to reel himself in. The woman was a client and he was not about to let her down. He forced himself to focus on her family history throughout the rest of the meal. Abby was able to answer questions about everyone except her biological father because she knew very little about the man. Despite their contact over the years, Walter hadn’t been very forthcoming. It wasn’t the end of the world for Clay. It just made his job more difficult.
He didn’t mind having Abby around for a little longer, though. While a simple open-and-shut case appealed to some private investigators, Clay loved a challenge, and Abby’s case was definitely that. But she was awakening a part of him he had resolved would never see the light of day. Abby was in town for two weeks, and that was it. There was no chance of anything more than a brief acquaintance. Once the case was closed, Abby would leave for Charleston and he’d probably never see her again. Why didn’t that thought sit well with him?
“The best part of the meal is the fortune cookies.” Abby eagerly cracked hers open. “The skills you have gathered will one day come in handy. Oh, well, that’s good to know.”
Clay laughed and split his cookie in half, removing his fortune. “There are many new opportunities that are being presented to you.” That one hit a little too close to home. He didn’t want to think about new opportunities. He’d trade everything he had for Ana Rosa and Paulo to come back to him. The immediate guilt washing him over their deaths reminded him that a relationship with Abby was out of the question. Clay didn’t deserve a second chance at happiness when Ana Rosa and Paulo didn’t have a second chance at life. He cleared his throat. “It’s getting late. We should head back. I have to be in court tomorrow morning.”
Abby checked her watch. Clay knew it was barely eight o’clock and his excuse was lame, but if things went further, he’d never forgive himself. He had a feeling it would be easy to lose himself with the pint-size blonde. He wasn’t ready for this, and he certainly wasn’t ready for Abby.
Chapter Three (#ulink_894363c3-2b6c-5457-87a6-418630a6e21a)
“Hit me again.” Abby tapped two fingers next to her coffee cup.
“Your eyes look like two cherries in the snow,” Bridgett said. “Didn’t you get any sleep?”
“The last time I stayed up so late was when I studied for my state board exams.”
Bridgett grinned. “Did someone keep you company last night?” She refilled Abby’s empty cup.
“He sure did.” Abby looked around to ensure no one else was listening. “He snuggled right beside me while I worked.”
“Worked?” The waitress set the coffee carafe on the counter. If the woman were a puppy her ears would have stood up.
“Yes,” Abby said, amused. “I’m a physical therapist, and I was researching animal-assisted therapy centers with my dog curled up next to me all night.” Unfortunately, there weren’t any facilities nearby, and outside of what she had read online about Dance of Hope, nothing compared to the program she would like to create in Charleston.
“Oh, and here I thought it was something exciting.” Bridgett frowned. “Not that what you do isn’t exciting. I’m sure it is. Before I stick my foot farther down my throat, can I get you something to eat?”
“No, thank you. At the rate I’m going, I won’t fit into my clothes soon.” Between Mazie’s lavish meals and the times she’d eaten out over the past few days, she knew she’d already gained a few pounds. “And don’t look so disappointed. You didn’t honestly think I’d jump into bed with him, did you? We just met.”
Bridgett raised a brow. “Him? Who him?”
“Clay him, that’s who. We went to dinner the other night.” Abby hoped her disappointment in not hearing from the man for the past forty hours didn’t show. She certainly wasn’t counting. Okay, she was. And Abby couldn’t remember counting the hours on anything, except maybe when she was waiting for word to come down from the hospital board about her latest proposal.
Bridgett propped her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “Clay Tanner...one of Hill Country’s finest. I don’t mean to pry, but I’m going to anyway. Why are you in Ramblewood? It must be something good if you hired a private investigator.”
“It’s no secret.” Abby sipped her coffee. “According to my late biological father, I have a sister no one else apparently knows about. Since he was stationed at Randolph Air Force Base and I was born here, I figured I would try Texas first.”
“I love mysteries,” Bridgett said. “Any idea of her age?”
“No. I want to say younger than me, since he and my mom married straight out of high school, but who knows? Maybe he had an affair when he was overseas. I needed some place to start and Ramblewood was my jumping-off point.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” Sympathy clouded Bridgett’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if I were in your shoes.”
Abby hoped that, whoever her sister turned out to be, she had as full and content a life as Abby did. Unless you counted the recent upset at work, age thirty creeping up in a few years, the lack of a boyfriend and a biological clock that was ticking louder with each of her friends’ baby showers.
Okay. If she admitted the truth to herself, she wasn’t as content as she wanted to be. But who was? Didn’t people perpetually want more out of life? New cars, bigger houses, children. The grass was always greener.
“Mazie said Clay hadn’t dated anyone since he moved back to town. That seems a little odd. What’s his story?” Abby asked.
“That’s the million dollar question, hon.” Bridgett totaled up a customer’s bill and tore the ticket from her pad. “The man who left for the ATF was not the same man who came home. All I can figure is something bad must’ve happened when he was working the Mexican border. He has a small ranch on the outskirts of town, but no one ever goes there. Either he’s at Slater’s Mill or Bridle Dance visiting Shane and Lexi, Mazie’s sister. They have a house out there. Shane is Clay’s best friend and even he doesn’t know much. Or if he does, he hasn’t said anything.”
“Interesting,” Abby commented.
“He’s a tough one, Abby,” Bridgett warned. “If you test the waters with him, I suggest you put on a life vest to keep your head above water. Someone like that can drag you down if you’re not careful.”
Bridgett’s comment surprised Abby, although she should heed her advice considering how long the waitress had known the man. Abby’s job was to help people regain their lives. She wasn’t programmed to walk away. If Bridgett was right and something had happened to Clay, that would explain why he was no longer with the ATF. Far too young to retire, he just didn’t seem to fit the classic post-traumatic stress disorder profile. Not that it was her area of expertise, but she worked with many service people recovering from a range of injuries from limb loss to paralysis.
Clay didn’t have the haunted look in his eyes she’d seen in them. No, he was different, but with only a week and a half left in her vacation, there wasn’t enough time for her to help. At dinner he had asked all the questions, leaving her knowing nothing about him. Then again, that was his job as a private investigator, and her job was not Clay Tanner.
* * *
CLAY OWED ABBY an apology for behaving like a first-class jerk the other night. While they walked back to the Bed & Biscuit, Abby had maintained a chipper attitude, but her bubbliness and energy had faded with each step. Of course that had been Clay’s fault, since he had virtually shut her out once he’d read that fortune cookie. He’d immediately felt as if he betrayed Ana Rosa with his personal interest in Abby.
He had asked himself many times if Ana Rosa would want him to move on or if she damned him to hell for causing her death. As religious as she’d been, in his heart Clay honestly didn’t know if she’d forgive something so heinous. If she had forgiven him for her death, there’d be none when it came to Paulo’s—a brilliant six-year-old with his entire life ahead of him. The little boy had wanted to be an American fireman more than anything—a dream Clay had promised to help fulfill.
He had planned to tell Ana Rosa the truth about his identity once the sting operation ended. Everything she’d known about him, everything she’d fallen in love with, had been a lie. But the lies had been a vital part of his assignment. They’d been necessary to keep them safe—or so he had thought. Clay had sensed things were about to go terribly wrong with that operation, and if he had disobeyed orders and told Ana Rosa and Paulo the truth, they’d still be alive. Instead, he had watched them die. That guilt tore at him each and every day.
Clay wanted to avoid any non-business-related contact with Abby, but there he was, contemplating calling her to apologize. He pulled into his parents’ driveway, then climbed out of the truck, figuring a good dose of home would do him some good. Nothing ever changed at the Tanner house. He always knew what to expect when he walked through the door.
“Morning, Mom.” He let himself in the side entrance. “Something smells good in here.”
“Have a seat, honey.” Fern gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m making waffles and you’re just in time. I hoped you were stopping by. We haven’t seen you for the past few days.”
“Translation,” his father chimed in from the hall archway. “Your mother heard from the Ramblewood Caw & Cackle Society that you went out on a date the other night, and she’s dying for you to tell her all about it. Heard she’s a cute little thing.”
Clay rolled his eyes. His mother was a romantic. She kept scrapbooks from her courtship with his father all the way through Clay’s and his sister’s school years. Fern carefully documented and preserved every family event in one of her many volumes.
“Well?” his mom asked.
Clay’s muscles tensed. “It wasn’t a date. I met a client for dinner to discuss her case.”
“Charlotte Hargrove said you two were walking down Main Street practically hand in hand,” his mother said.
“Charlotte Hargrove needs a life of her own because I assure you Abby and I weren’t holding hands.” Clay roughly pulled out a chair and flopped onto it. “By the end of the night, she was barely speaking to me.”
“What did you do?” Fern placed one hand on her hip and waved a spatula with the other. “You really need to stop running women off and start thinking about settling down. I want grandbabies and your sister, Hannah, vows never to have any. You’re my only hope.” She looked at her husband. “Right, Gage?”
“Fern, give the man a break,” his dad said. “But I’m curious, what did you do to make her stop talking to you? Give a man some pointers, will you?”
His mother threw her dish towel at his father. They made marriage appear so effortless, and Clay couldn’t get through a meal with a woman without ruining things.
After breakfast, he drove halfway home before calling Abby. He owed her an apology. That was it, nothing more. Yet he ended up asking her to meet him at Slater’s Mill later that evening.
