Capri set her fishing rod down and turned to face him. “I forgave you a long time ago, Dick. You’ve been more of a father to me than you know. And I love you for it.”
Tears welled in Dick’s eyes as he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “And I love you, kid. More than I ever showed. I’m just…I’m just so proud of the woman you’ve become.”
Capri directed her gaze out at the water for several long seconds. “Are you afraid?”
“Of what’s ahead for me? Of dying?”
She nodded almost imperceptibly.
He joined her in gazing out at the beautiful scene before them. “Nah. Ain’t nothing to be afraid of. The way I see things, I’m just moving from one beautiful place to another, one more grand than any earthly landscape. And I have friends there. And my parents. Truth be told, I’m kind of settled about what’s to come.”
Despite his confident assertion, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “I hate to say goodbye to you and your mother—and some of the old goats I hang with, like Clancy Rivers. But if that Bible your mom keeps on the coffee table is true—and I believe it is—our separation is temporary.”
He let out a chuckle. “Besides, I have it on good word that there are a few fishermen up there. I’ll spend some time with Peter and the others. We have a lot in common you know. Not only do we like to fish but we’ve both cut off a few ears in our day before cleaning ourselves up.” He winked again—this time with a big smile on his face.
They didn’t talk much after that, each lost in their thoughts, soaking in the beauty of the moment and the bittersweet tang of their shared memories.
As the day faded into evening, they managed to catch more than a few fish, just as Dick had promised. Laughing and joking, they cleaned their catch by the lake and cooked up a few using a pan Capri had packed. Before long, the setting sun cast long shadows on the ground.
“It’s been a good day, hasn’t it?” Dick murmured as they packed up to leave.
“The best,” Capri replied, helping him to his feet. “Let’s do this again soon.”
“Let’s,” he agreed, though they both understood the unspoken words hanging between them.
They walked back to the truck, arms linked, a steady support for one another. As they drove home, the cabin of the truck filled with the soft glow of the dashboard lights, Capri glanced over at Dick, his face serene, almost radiant.
In that quiet, enduring space between them, filled with love and a deep, unspoken understanding, they reveled in a peace that transcended the need for words. They drove on, tucking the precious memory of their day together in their minds to carry with them forever.
6
Lila followed Diane Robinson and her daughter from the exam room back into the veterinary clinic’s waiting area. “I think Puff Daddy is going to be all right. Just a little feline morning sickness.” She winked in Diane’s direction.
The little girl buried her face against the furry yellow, and very fat, cat’s torso. “Thank you so much! I was so afraid Puff was gonna die.”
Her mother smiled. “Honey, I told you—cats rarely die from hurling up their breakfast. Even if three days in a row,” her mother told her.
“Your mother’s right,” Lila added. “Puff Daddy is going to be a mommy.”
Despite the irony, the young girl’s face brightened with delight. “Which means baby kittens?”
Diane sighed. “Yes, kittens.” She leaned toward Lila, hand cupped at her mouth. “My husband is going to have a fit when he finds out.”
“We’re keeping them,” her daughter declared. “All of them.”
Diane smiled and patted her young daughter’s shoulder. “We’ll see.” She turned to Lila. “Tell Doc Tillman that I’ll bring him some jars of my pickled rhubarb just as soon as he gets back. Doc loves my pickled rhubarb.”
Lila nodded while maintaining a smile on her face. She bid the mother, daughter, and cat goodbye with a wave.
“Too bad canned goods don’t pay the bills,” she murmured as soon as the door closed behind Diane and her daughter.
Or baked cakes and pies. Or venison jerky.
Lila turned and walked back to the exam room. Doc Tillman could afford more state-of-the-art equipment if he ran a tighter shop. She’d worked for Doc since high school, and as long as she’d known him, he had bartered with anyone who was strapped for cash—which was a lot of the people in Thunder Mountain.
“We have enough to get by,” he’d argued when she suggested he might be getting taken advantage of. “The Lord makes sure we have plenty.”
While she appreciated his generous spirit, his antiquated vet clinic could use some updating. And she could use a raise more often than every five years.
