knock in the four-cylinder engine that had her losing sleep at night. She could have used Drew’s car, but pride prevented her from accepting any form of charity, however well-intentioned.
Stones End, the signpost read.
Very apt, Rachel thought as she turned at the sign. Stone fences lined both sides of the farm road, then rambled into the fields, framing straight lush cultivated rows of deep-green potato plants stretching into the far distance. One nearby field had gone to seed, adrift in a gaudy sea of wildflowers, as if someone had thrown caution to the wind and let nature take over.
While admiring the view, Rachel almost missed the animal clinic, which blended into the scenery. She parked the car, and they got out. Dylan carried the basket of puppies as if they were breakable. They climbed the porch steps.
Obviously new, the scent of cedar shakes clung to the building—a long low structure set against the shelter of tall flaring pine trees. In the distance, a collection of farm buildings topped the hill. The place was oddly silent, peaceful. The stillness was broken by a baby’s cry.
The human sound startled Rachel. She opened the screen door and entered a reception area.
A bell stood on the receptionist’s desk. One ring brought someone rushing into the room. With a baby thrown over her shoulder, the young woman smiled. “Hello, I believe we spoke on the phone.”
“Yes, that’s right.” At the sound of Rachel’s voice, the baby turned to look, and grinned a toothless smile.
His mother chuckled. “This is Nathaniel. He’s not usually cranky, but he’s teething.”
“He’s lovely,” Rachel said. And he was—robust and rosy-cheeked, with dark hair. His mother had fair hair; but the infant had her soft rainwater-gray eyes.
The woman smiled. “We like him.” She transferred his weight to her hip. “I’m Jessie Harding by the way. You’re new in town. Welcome to Henderson. I hope you’ll be happy here. Where are you from?”
Liking the woman’s directness, Rachel introduced herself and Dylan. “My aunt and uncle ran the Stillwater Inn until they retired recently.”
“I know the place. Isn’t it closed for repairs?”
“Yes, indefinitely.” Rachel didn’t add any details about her move. Explanations were awkward.
When Jessie laid the baby down in a playpen, he fussed for a minute until she gave him a rattle. “You said you found puppies along the road? I don’t know how anyone could throw them away, do you?”
“Well, no.” Now Rachel felt guilty because she didn’t want them either.
“If you’ll come with me, I’m sure the doctor will see you right away.” Jessie turned toward a closed door, knocked once, then opened it, pushing it wide.
Rachel was still struggling to explain, “I thought I could just drop them—” Stopping in midsentence, she stared at the man’s identity, frowning at his fair hair. Several days had passed and he hadn’t had it cut.
Openly familiar, Jessie teased, “Are we interrupting anything important?”
With an uneasy feeling that didn’t make sense, Rachel wondered at their relationship. Was he married to Jessie, the father of her child?
Caught in the act of aiming a dart at a gameboard on the opposite wall, he grinned. “Not at all.”
However, at the sight of Rachel, his smile fled. When his gaze wandered over her before finally leveling on her face, the corn flakes topped with strawberries and cream she’d eaten for breakfast curdled in her stomach. Conscious of her less-than-flattering attire—denim cutoffs and a blue cotton T-shirt—she tugged at the ragged edge of her shorts.
When a plump owl on a wooden perch behind the desk winked, Rachel jumped. She’d assumed it was stuffed.
“We’re repairing a broken wing,” he explained with a crooked smile. He rose and came around the desk. It was made out of oak—old, but not antique. “Hello, we meet again.” His gaze fixed on her hair.
Rachel resisted the urge to smooth it back. “You’re a vet!” She couldn’t hide her surprise. This man didn’t fit her mental image of a vet.
Folding his arms, he leaned against the corner of the desk. “It’s a legitimate way to make a living.”
“I only meant…” She glanced at his credentials on the wall, proof of his veterinary qualifications—even if they were fairly new. “It’s such a surprise.”
By now, Jessie couldn’t hide her curiosity. “I didn’t realize you knew each other.”
“We don’t,” Rachel said hastily.
He corrected her. “We’ve met.”
“I see,” Jessie said with a chuckle. “Well, while you two are deciding, Dylan can help me clean the pups and set up the examining room. Shout if you need us.”
Rachel hastily said, “Dylan can’t stay. We have to go.”
Dylan looked back. “Just a few minutes, okay?”
With a resigned sigh, Rachel agreed, fully aware of the matchmaking gleam in Jessie’s eyes. It didn’t match the annoyed gleam in his eyes when he said dryly, “My sister isn’t long on ceremony.” He held out his hand to Rachel. “I think we just got off on the wrong foot. Can we start over? I’m Jared Carlisle.”
The name suited him, both gentle and hard. Of course, he would have to be both in his line of work. But what about his personal life? Rachel placed her hand in his. She didn’t want an introduction, didn’t want to know this man who looked at her with eyes that saw a reflection of her twin sister.
On that note of caution, she murmured, “Dr. Carlisle.”
He winced at her formality. “If you insist. But I prefer Jared. And you’re Rachel.”
“Mmm.” So, he hadn’t forgotten her name. She tugged her hand free. She felt awkward, yet unable to define why.
“I need to explain about the other day.” His gray gaze confronted hers.
Preferring to forget that first disturbing meeting, she shifted under that unwavering look. “There’s no need.”
“I think there is.” His eyes clouded. Apparently intent on dredging up the past, he continued, “What I said that day was uncalled for. I didn’t know about your sister.”
Rachel took a fortifying breath. “You and Laurel were acquainted?” Obviously, they weren’t friends.
He hesitated before saying, “I hardly knew her.”
“I see,” Rachel murmured, when she didn’t see at all. Nevertheless, she accepted his condolences without further comment. Her thoughts were private, too personal to share with a stranger who obviously had his own memories of Laurel.
“Your son resembles you,” he said.
“Dylan?” she said in confusion.
He smiled a polite sort of smile that meant less than nothing. “How many children do you have?”
“None.” She had the pleasure of wiping the smile off his face. “Dylan is my nephew.”
He recovered from his surprise. “Let me get this straight. Dylan is Laurel’s son, not yours.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I thought…”
Rachel wondered why a searing glance from this man should hurt so much. “I know what you thought.” An awkward silence hung between them. He’d obviously assumed she was Drew’s mistress. She didn’t know how to stop the gossip, short of painting a sign and wearing it around her neck.
“He called you Mom.” Jared’s voice sounded