They’d held him together so far. He opened the door and stepped into the last rays of daylight. “I appreciate you coming by. It would break Jess’s heart if anything happened to Grace. Or the foal,” he added.
Craig clapped a hand to Marc’s shoulder. “Glad to do it. And you haven’t been over in a while. When can we expect you? Saturday?”
Marc exhaled, his breath a cloud of ivory steam. “It’s tough, with Dad and all. I feel bad if I leave. And Sarah sounds busy enough.”
“True on all counts. But you don’t want your dad to feel guilty about you hanging around, either. And I’m not averse to helping Sarah in the kitchen.” Marc’s look inspired Craig’s laugh. “Being nice in the kitchen brings rewards.”
Marc hid a stab of envy.
Craig was different now that he was a husband and father. Calmer. More focused. Was that because of marriage or his strengthened faith? Marc refused to ask. He dipped his chin. “Dad mentioned that this morning, how he hates to have us tied up, waiting.”
“Come over on Saturday,” Craig urged. “Have supper, play with the baby.”
A night away sounded good. Marc smiled. “Which one? The kittens, the lambs or the human?”
“All of the above.” Craig’s tone was half teasing, half lament. “That’s what I get for marrying a sheep farmer. A personal petting zoo in the basement.”
Marc laughed. “Not so bad, considering the sheep farmer.”
Craig’s smile deepened. “No argument there. We’re good, then?”
Marc hesitated.
“It would give Jess a chance to have some private time with Pete.”
He hadn’t thought of that, but Craig made a good point. It wouldn’t hurt for Jess to have Dad to herself for a while. And he wouldn’t mind an interruption in the constant round of casseroles the good women of the church seemed bent on providing. Marc nodded. “What time and what can I bring?”
“Six, and don’t bring a thing. Let Sarah spoil you. It’ll make her day.”
Marc surrendered, hands up, palms out. “I would love to be spoiled.”
“Good.” Craig climbed into his car and started the engine before opening the window. “Tell Jess everything’s looking fine. She’s done well.”
Grace and her foal were the end result of a 4-H project. The paint mare had won several ribbons with Jess as a mount, but this was her first breeding. First-time mothers were unpredictable, and Marc wanted to avoid more trauma right now. Their father’s illness was enough for Jess to handle. Having her big brother smooth the barn path was the least he could do.
“Kayla? How’s your time frame?”
Kayla groaned. “Why do I suddenly wish I’d taken a different route out of this place?”
Christy smiled. “Ask the busy person…”
“Or the last one out the door,” Kayla mused. “Whattya got?”
Christy’s expression sobered. “A new intake in Gouverneur at one-thirty.”
“Tricky to be in Norfolk at two if you’re in Gouverneur at half-past one.” Gouverneur and Norfolk were at opposite points of St. Lawrence County.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“If I do the two o’clock at Maeve Morris’s, you’re okay with the intake in the southern sector?”
“Forever in your debt,” Christy declared. She held up a candy bar like the grand prize of a church raffle. “Would chocolate settle the issue?”
“From your private stash in the dark gray filing cabinet marked ‘No unauthorized entry’?”
Christy handed over the bar. “So much for private. Anyway, if you take Maeve, I’ll be clear for this. Who else do you have this afternoon?”
“Mr. DeHollander, so it works out since he’s up that way,” Kayla told her. “I’ll see if I can back him off an hour. That will give me time with Maeve, then off to the beef farm, then back home to Potsdam. Keeps me in the northern quadrant for the afternoon.”
“And we live in the largest geographic county in New York State because…?”
“We love piling miles on our cars while we travel inhospitable backcountry roads for hours on end.” Kayla returned Christy’s chagrined smile and shrugged. “My answer’s simple. They pay me and forgave my student loans. Sweet deal, all around. What’s your excuse?”
Christy winked. “Fell in love with a guy who thought the North Country was a great place to raise a family. I decided he was right.”
Kayla leaned in. “Fifty states, Chris. I’m gonna go way out on a limb and wager there are other great places to raise kids.”
Christy shrugged. “I’m sure there are. Heaven knows we get sick of winter up here about two-and-a-half months before it officially ends—”
“In June,” Kayla spouted.
There was no denying that. May nights got downright cold. Kayla tried not to picture her chilly living room, the comforter that was a mainstay on the couch for simple warmth. Christy grinned, noting, “Good snuggling weather.”
“Since I’m single, I’ll take your word on that.” Kayla rolled her eyes, hefted her workbag and headed for the door.
Chris’s voice followed her. “Romance hits when you least expect it, kiddo. You wanna hear God laugh? Tell Him your plans.”
Biting her tongue, Kayla waved as she bumped her way out the door.
Romance. Hello? Haven’t had a date in too many months to count. Definitely a downside to dealing with a primarily geriatric crowd.
At the hospital she’d been surrounded by people her age. Well, okay, surrounded was generous. Canton-Potsdam Hospital was small, but well-run. A tidy operation, all told. The busyness there, nestled in Potsdam’s center, had provided her with the occasional flirtatious moment.
Hospice? Not so much. She laughed at the differences as she climbed into her car. The car had chilled back to deep-freeze status, but the heater sprang to life easily this time. Kayla shot a look heavenward. “Thank You. And ignore what Christy said, okay? I’m not looking for anything up here. I’ve got a date with destiny coming up, and the one thing I can guarantee is that winters will be short or nonexistent. I give my word on it.”
She waited for the promised laugh and didn’t hear it. Good. She and God were on the same page. Before exiting the lot, she dialed the DeHollanders.
No answer. Wishing she’d gotten hold of someone, she left a message on Pete’s machine, explaining she’d be late, then headed to her first call of the day.
“Where have you been?” Marc’s harsh tone had Kayla taking a step back. His shoulders blocked the kitchen light. In shadow, she had a hard time assessing his expression until he turned. The darkened countenance became an easy read then.
“Seeing patients.” Shrugging off her coat, she tried to size up the situation but fell short. Marc’s face showed anger and fear, heavy on the former. “I got your voice mail.”
“But didn’t answer it.” His tone was ragged. Accusing.
“I just got it,” Kayla corrected herself. She kicked off her boots and faced him. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
“Your shoes.”
“I was hurrying when I got your message. I must have left them at the Morrises’.” Sliding her glance to the kitchen, she dipped her chin. “Where’s your dad?”
“Where do you think?”
Kayla bit her lower lip hard enough to