I pause and search the room again, then head over to the bar.
The bartender finishes serving someone else, then comes over with a smile. His name’s Tyr Donovan, and he’s a Lieutenant in the Navy. He’s a tall, rugged-looking guy with dark hair and dark-blue eyes. I know him fairly well because he was one of my patients a year ago, when he took an extended period of leave.
“Hey Tyr,” I say.
He gives me the Northland welcome—a quick lift of his chin—and says, “Hey Archer.”
Usually, I never mention that I know a patient outside of the clinic, but Tyr and I got on very well, and so I’m comfortable saying, “On leave at the moment?”
“Nope. I resigned from the Navy.”
“Oh…” Tyr had PTSD from an incident that happened a few months before I saw him, and we discussed him leaving the service, although I wasn’t sure he’d go through with it. Still, I’m surprised to see him behind a bar. He’s a Maritime Logistics Officer with sound skills, and very employable. And although he’s brusque and gruff, he has a good heart, and he’s dependable and hardworking. But there are many reasons people take jobs like this. “Enjoying pulling pints?” I say with a smile.
He shrugs. “I only came out a week ago. Not yet found anything permanent.”
I tip my head to the side, studying him. “What are you like with animals? Dogs, specifically.”
His eyebrows rise. “Ah… yeah great. Love them.”
I take a business card out of my back pocket and hand it to him. “I’m setting up an animal-assisted therapy center at the old Hemsworth farmstead. I’m looking for staff in a few areas. Come and see me, and we’ll have a chat.”
“Okay, I will. Thanks.” He clears his throat as he pockets the card. “What can I get you?”
“I’m looking for a girl.” When his eyebrow rise, I quickly correct myself. “Sorry, I mean someone in particular. Average height, Maori, brown hair in a ponytail, blue top, cut-down jeans.”
“That her?” He gestures with his head to the end of the bar.
I follow his gaze to my left and only then do I see Beth tucked right in the corner, sitting on a stool with her back to the wall. She’s nursing a glass of wine, her chin propped on her hand, and she looks so sad it makes me ache.
“Yeah,” I murmur, “thanks. Oh, I’ll have a JD on the rocks, please.”
Tyr makes the drink and slides the tumbler over to me, and I nod to him, then take it along the bar, pull up a stool, and sit beside Beth.
She looks up, frowning at the appearance of someone in her personal space, and then her eyes widen as she sees it’s me.
“Archer!” She inhales. “Oh… I didn’t mean for you to come all the way down here.”
I show her my glass. “I’m joining you for a drink. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She meets my eyes. Then her own fill with tears, her face crumples, and she covers her mouth with her hand.
I shift my stool a little closer, ostensibly to shield her from the rest of the room, but to my surprise she leans against me and rests her forehead on my shoulder, so I lift my arm around her. We hugoccasionally as friends, when we’re saying hello or goodbye, because it would be noticeable if I refused, so I’m used to the feel of her narrow shoulders. The scent of her perfume that rises up to ensnare me. The smoothness of her light-brown skin. How, when her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, it reveals a small mole behind her left ear.
Today, though, she seems even smaller and more fragile. Or perhaps that’s because I know she’s upset. I keep my body angled away from her and continue to hold my glass with my other hand, but I rub her back and murmur, “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be all right.”
She sits stiffly, her chest heaving and her body trembling, obviously fighting not to cry. I look at the top of her head, at her dark-brown hair, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around her and pull her close to me, to kiss her hair. To kiss her.
Eventually, she moves back a little, and I lower my arm. She wipes beneath her eyes and turns back to her drink, not looking up at me.
“Sorry,” she whispers.
“It’s okay.”
“It’s been a helluva day, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry.”
She has a mouthful of wine. The glass is nearly full and she must have been here a while, so it must be her second. Like Jude, she’s a light drinker, so this is unusual for her and illustrates how upset she is.
