When Mel enters the kitchen later that afternoon carrying a basketful of vegetables, I say, “I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier.”
She places the basket on the counter. “I can’t say I know what you’re going through, but I can’t wait for this to be over with either.”
I decide to risk the question. “Why are you and Ross involved?”
Adjusting her Zorro mask, Mel sighs, as if she knew the question would come eventually. “Kane’s a friend and he needed our help. I wouldn’t do this if I thought he’d harm you in any way.”
There are all kinds of harm. Mel has no idea it’s my heart at risk here.
“I’m taking iced tea and sandwiches to the men,” Mel says once we’ve packed the vegetables away. “Why don’t you join me?”
Apparently, the men are upgrading the fencing for the various pastures. Nolene’s left on a supply run. “All right.”
As we walk the dirt path to where Kane and Ross are, Mel chats casually about the rescue operations behind many of the animals in the sanctuary. Hearing the stories, almost all of them horrific and sad, I grudgingly begin to gain a greater insight into what they’ve accomplished here.
“It’s admirable what you and Ross are doing,” I tell her. I mean it too. Curiosity prompts me to ask, “Do you have any children?”
Mel’s reply is soft. “I can’t have children.”
Hearing the pain and longing in Mel’s voice, I think shamefully of my casual certainty that I’ll one day have kids, in my own time and on my terms.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling the inadequacy of my words.
“It’s taken me awhile to come to terms with my infertility, but at least I get the opportunity to look after plenty of four-legged babies.”
I understand now why Mel’s favorite task is to care for the baby animals, why she spends most of her time bottle feeding newborn lambs and goats, and comforting calves who have lost their milk-yielding mothers.
I prefer the sanctuary’s geriatric crowd. Most of them don’t have enough teeth left to graze on and would starve even with hay right in front of them. I enjoy feeding them soft food sweetened with a little molasses. They seem to want nothing more than soothing words and gentle handling in their twilight years.
In some ways, they remind me of my father. He still has all his teeth, but he’s getting older, a little more forgetful, and he has no one in the world to look after him except me. But for the first time, I’m starting to question my father’s work. Is his use of animals in his research as cruel as Kane claims it to be? Once I allow doubts to creep in, I can’t help wondering what else he’s keeping from me.
Then there’s Kane. I wish I could go back to despising him, but I’m starting to like him in a way that feels far removed from simply lust. And the stronger my attraction to Kane, the deeper my feelings of disloyalty are toward my father. It’s a tug-of-war tearing my heart in two.
A raucous braying noise jolts me from my thoughts. Wincing at the sound, I turn to see Carrot-top running toward us. We both laugh at his desperate, wait-for-me expression.
“Relax, handsome, we wouldn’t dream of leaving you behind,” Mel says soothingly.
I stroke Carrot-top’s neck, marveling that I’m actually enjoying stroking the rough fur of a donkey. Me, Amy Hutchinson, who has never truly interacted with an animal that wasn’t on my plate.
As we set off again, Carrot-top catches a whiff of the tea Mel is carrying in the backpack and proves himself a complete nuisance after that, trying everything in his power to get to it.
“Bother, I usually carry apple peelings to distract him,” Mel says in exasperation as she pushes Carrot-top away for the countless time. “The rascal absolutely loves tea.”
At last, after what seems like the longest and most bruising walk of our lives, we reach the goat pasture where Kane and Ross are busy repairing the fence. I catch sight of Kane, taking in the bunching of his broad shoulders and the play of muscles on his thighs. His masculinity and easy strength hold me still for a moment.
Carrot-top spots the net of hay hanging from a post and starts munching contentedly.
“Thank goodness,” Mel breathes in relief, shrugging off the backpack and rolling her shoulders.
As I take out the sandwiches and iced tea, I glimpse Saba sitting in the shade of a huge tree. Noticing me, the dog’s ears prick.
I glower at him.Seriously, I’ve just sparred with a donkey. I’m not in the mood for your jealous antics.
Turning my back on Saba, I watch Ross put down his tools as Mel draws near. They have eyes only for one another, and the relaxed intimacy between them is both endearing and uncomfortable to watch.
Kane starts toward me, sunglasses obscuring the expression in his eyes.
I hold up the flask. “We brought iced tea.”
