it?”
“Excuse me?”
She flushed. “Oh, no, not because of…I mean…” She grimaced. “I meant it’s amazing that you never get tired of large animal calls when the weather’s awful.”
He chuckled. “You really have got to take an assertiveness course,” he said, and not unkindly.
“It’s hard to be assertive when you’re shy,” she argued.
“It’s impossible not to be when you have a job like mine and people don’t want to do what you tell them to,” he returned. “Some animals would die if I couldn’t outargue their owners.”
“Point taken.”
“If it’s any consolation,” he said, “when I was your age, I had the same problem.”
“How did you overcome it?”
“My stepfather decided that my mother wasn’t going to the doctor for a urinary tract infection. I was already in veterinary school, and I knew what happened when animals weren’t treated for it. I told him. He told me he was the man of the house and he’d decide what my mother did.” He smiled, remembering. “So I had a choice—either back down, or let my mother risk permanent damage to her health, even death. I told him she was going to the doctor, I put her in the car and drove her there myself.”
“What did your stepfather do?” she asked, aghast.
“There wasn’t much that he could do, since I paid the doctor.” His face hardened. “And it wasn’t the first disagreement we’d had. He was poor and proud with it. He’d have let her suffer rather than admit he couldn’t afford a doctor visit or medicine.” He looked down at her. “It’s a hell of a world, when people have to choosebetween food and medicine and doctors. Or between heated houses and medicine.”
“Tell me about it,” she replied. She colored a little, and hoped he didn’t notice. “Kell and I do all right,” she said quickly. “But he’ll go without medicine sometimes if I don’t put my foot down. You’d think I’d be tough as nails, because I stand up to him.”
“He’s not a mean person.”
“He could be, I think,” she said. She hesitated. “There was a man I dated, briefly, in San Antonio.” She hesitated again. Perhaps it was too soon for this.
He stepped closer. “A man.”
His voice was very soft. Quiet. Comforting. She wrapped her arms around her chest. She had on a sweater, but it was chilly outside. The memories were just as chilling. She was recalling it, her face betraying her inner turmoil. He’d hit her. The first time, he said it was because he’d had a drink, and he cried, and she went back to him. But the second time, he’d have probably killed her if Kell hadn’t heard her scream and come to save her. As it was, he’d fractured her arm when he threw her over the couch. Kell had knocked Frank out with a lamp, from his wheelchair, and made her call the police. He made her testify, too. She held her arms around herself, chilled by the memory.
“What happened?”
She looked up at him, wanting to tell him, but afraid to. Frank got a six-month sentence, but he’d already served three months and he was out. Would he come after her now? Would he be crazy enough to do that? And would Bentley believe her, if she told him? Theybarely knew each other. It was too soon, she thought. Much too soon, to drag out her past and show it to him. There was no reason to tell him anyway. Frank wouldn’t come down here and risk being sent back to jail. Bentley might think less of her if she told him, might think it was her own fault. Besides, she didn’t want to tell him yet.
“He was a mean sort of person, that’s all,” she hedged. “He kicked my cat. I thought it was terrible. He just laughed.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “A man who’ll kick a cat will kick a human being.”
“You’re probably right,” she admitted, and then she smiled. “Well, I only dated him for a little while. He wasn’t the sort of person I like to be around. Kell didn’t like him, either.”
“I like your brother.”
She
“Excuse me?”
She flushed. “Oh, no, not because of…I mean…” She grimaced. “I meant it’s amazing that you never get tired of large animal calls when the weather’s awful.”
He chuckled. “You really have got to take an assertiveness course,” he said, and not unkindly.
“It’s hard to be assertive when you’re shy,” she argued.
“It’s impossible not to be when you have a job like mine and people don’t want to do what you tell them to,” he returned. “Some animals would die if I couldn’t outargue their owners.”
“Point taken.”
“If it’s any consolation,” he said, “when I was your age, I had the same problem.”
“How did you overcome it?”
“My stepfather decided that my mother wasn’t going to the doctor for a urinary tract infection. I was already in veterinary school, and I knew what happened when animals weren’t treated for it. I told him. He told me he was the man of the house and he’d decide what my mother did.” He smiled, remembering. “So I had a choice—either back down, or let my mother risk permanent damage to her health, even death. I told him she was going to the doctor, I put her in the car and drove her there myself.”
“What did your stepfather do?” she asked, aghast.
“There wasn’t much that he could do, since I paid the doctor.” His face hardened. “And it wasn’t the first disagreement we’d had. He was poor and proud with it. He’d have let her suffer rather than admit he couldn’t afford a doctor visit or medicine.” He looked down at her. “It’s a hell of a world, when people have to choosebetween food and medicine and doctors. Or between heated houses and medicine.”
“Tell me about it,” she replied. She colored a little, and hoped he didn’t notice. “Kell and I do all right,” she said quickly. “But he’ll go without medicine sometimes if I don’t put my foot down. You’d think I’d be tough as nails, because I stand up to him.”
“He’s not a mean person.”
“He could be, I think,” she said. She hesitated. “There was a man I dated, briefly, in San Antonio.” She hesitated again. Perhaps it was too soon for this.
He stepped closer. “A man.”
His voice was very soft. Quiet. Comforting. She wrapped her arms around her chest. She had on a sweater, but it was chilly outside. The memories were just as chilling. She was recalling it, her face betraying her inner turmoil. He’d hit her. The first time, he said it was because he’d had a drink, and he cried, and she went back to him. But the second time, he’d have probably killed her if Kell hadn’t heard her scream and come to save her. As it was, he’d fractured her arm when he threw her over the couch. Kell had knocked Frank out with a lamp, from his wheelchair, and made her call the police. He made her testify, too. She held her arms around herself, chilled by the memory.
“What happened?”
She looked up at him, wanting to tell him, but afraid to. Frank got a six-month sentence, but he’d already served three months and he was out. Would he come after her now? Would he be crazy enough to do that? And would Bentley believe her, if she told him? Theybarely knew each other. It was too soon, she thought. Much too soon, to drag out her past and show it to him. There was no reason to tell him anyway. Frank wouldn’t come down here and risk being sent back to jail. Bentley might think less of her if she told him, might think it was her own fault. Besides, she didn’t want to tell him yet.
“He was a mean sort of person, that’s all,” she hedged. “He kicked my cat. I thought it was terrible. He just laughed.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “A man who’ll kick a cat will kick a human being.”
“You’re probably right,” she admitted, and then she smiled. “Well, I only dated him for a little while. He wasn’t the sort of person I like to be around. Kell didn’t like him, either.”
“I like your brother.”
She
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