Beneath a Southern Sky (7 page)

“We’re in this together, kiddo,” she whispered. “You and me.”

The thick, dark hair Natalie had been born with had fallen out within weeks of her birth and was slowly being replaced with silky, white-blond strands that made her look even more startlingly like Nate. Daria smoothed the flyaway hair with the palm of her hand and wished for the thousandth time that Nathan could have seen his daughter just once.

Daria smiled as the baby’s eyelids fluttered, then closed as she fell into a milk-induced stupor. Overcome with love for her daughter, Daria stroked the rounded curve of Natalie’s down-soft cheek. A tear rolled down Daria’s cheek and soaked into the warm blanket surrounding her daughter.

Set back from the highway, the Bristol Veterinary Clinic was at the edge of town. The unassuming office building in front was dwarfed by a modern, newly built barn that rose behind it.

Daria got out of the car and nervously straightened her skirt and smoothed the wrinkles from her blouse. She went around to the opposite side of the car and opened the back door.

Natalie slept soundly in her car seat. “Please, please, don’t wake up, sweetie,” she whispered under her breath. Spring had not quite arrived in Kansas and the afternoon breeze was brisk, so Daria threw a light blanket over Natalie, tucking it in around her.

She picked up her daughter, car seat and all, and walked into the waiting room of the clinic’s front office.

“Can I help you?” the girl at the desk asked through a wad of chewing gum. Daria guessed that she was a high-school student.

“Yes, I’m here for an interview about the receptionist’s position.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Hang on.” The girl meandered down a hallway toward the back of the building, reappearing a few seconds later. She handed Daria a clipboard with a job application attached.

Daria put Natalie’s carrier on the floor beside her, uncovered the still-sleeping baby, and sat down to fill out the information. When she was finished, she gave the clipboard to the girl, who disappeared through a back doorway with it.

She returned a few minutes later. “Dr. Hunter says to come on back.”

Toting the infant carrier, she followed the young woman through the door and down a narrow passageway.

“I’m Jennifer, by the way.” The girl offered Daria a shy smile. “Your baby is adorable.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I hope it’s okay that I brought her with me. I lost my baby-sitter at the last minute. I called and spoke with someone here about it, and they—”

“Oh, yeah,” Jennifer interrupted. “That was me. It’s not a problem. Dr. Hunter is crazy about kids.”

The place smelled strongly of wet dog fur and disinfectant. Through open doors on each side of the hallway Daria could see rows of cages, several of which held dogs or cats. A high-strung poodle began barking as they passed and Daria winced, fearing the sound would wake Natalie. But the baby didn’t stir.

Jennifer showed her into a small office at the end of the hallway. She motioned toward a folding chair in front of a metal desk in the corner, then left, closing the door behind her. A few minutes later, the door opened again and a tall, sandy-haired man in a stained white coat stepped into the room.

He stuck out his hand. “Hello. Daria, is it? I’m Colson Hunter.”

Though his hair was beginning to thin and the corners of his eyes were crinkled, his smile made him look like a winsome ten-year-old boy. Daria liked him immediately.

Natalie stirred and stretched her arms.

Hoping the baby’s motions weren’t a prelude to crying, Daria put out her hand. “Nice to meet you. I-I want to apologize for bringing my daughter with me. I lost my baby-sitter at the last minute. My mom was going to watch her, but my dad’s tractor broke down, and he needed her to run to Wichita for parts.” She felt like a wayward student in the principal’s office. She’d been torn between rescheduling her interview and bringing Natalie with her. Neither made for a very good first impression.

But Dr. Hunter immediately put his hands up as if to ward off her apology. “I grew up on a farm myself,” he assured her. “I know how it is.” His warm, casual manner instantly put her at ease. “I wonder if I know your parents. Do they farm around here?”

She nodded. “Five miles south of town. Erroll and Margo Haydon?”

He wrinkled his brow. “Hmm, that doesn’t ring a bell. I’ve only been in Bristol a couple of years, but I know most of the farmers around here by now.”

“Well, my dad doesn’t have livestock, just crops.”

“Oh, I see. And does your husband farm too?” he said, looking over her application, as though he might find the answer there.

She swallowed hard. “No. He—I-I’m widowed.”
Oh, please, God, don’t let me cry
.

He looked up from the papers in his hand. “Oh. I’m so sorry.” He looked as if he were going to say more, then, apparently sensing that she was close to tears, he turned the subject back to the interview. “I guess you know from the ad that we’re looking for a receptionist—someone to answer the phones, schedule appointments, handle the mail, some of the bookwork, that sort of thing.”

He glanced over her application again and asked her to clarify a few of her answers. His relaxed manner calmed her nerves, and she began to enjoy the interview.

“This is a small-time operation,” he told her, resting his elbows on the desk and tenting his hands in front of him. “I have a high-school girl who helps out after school—you met Jennifer.” He nodded toward the front of the building. “Then there’s Travis Carruthers. Dr. Carruthers just graduated from vet school last spring. And our technician is Carla Eldridge. She assists us in surgery and with all the medical procedures. We have a groomer, Doris Kline, who comes in once or twice a week, but that’s pretty much the entire staff. You’ll find we’re a very laid-back bunch. It won’t take you long to get the hang of it.”

She nodded, trying not to get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help feeling optimistic at the implication of his words.

“Your application looks good, Daria,” he said, looking directly at her and smiling. “If you’re interested, I’d like to offer you the job. I would want you to be here by nine each weekday morning, but as long as you get your hours in, we can be pretty flexible. You’d be free to take a late lunch or leave early if you need to. Jennifer works every weekday after school, so she’s here to answer the phone after three o’clock. As far as I’m concerned, you could even take some of the bookwork home with you. All I ask is that you let one of us know what’s up.” He mentioned a salary figure she thought she could make do with.

The baby began to squirm against the yellow blanket again, and Dr. Hunter, flashing his boyish grin, craned his neck to look over the desk at her. “How old is she?” he asked Daria. With a slight grimace he added quickly, “It is a little girl, isn’t it?”

She laughed. “Yes. This is Natalie. She’ll be nine weeks old tomorrow.”

“Wow. She’s so tiny.”

“My mother is going to keep her while I work,” she explained. “I-I’m living with my parents right now, but I’m planning to start looking for an apartment this weekend. I’m hoping to find something here in town or maybe over in Clayton.”

“You know”—he tapped a pencil on his desktop, thinking—“I just talked to someone this week who had an apartment to rent… Now, who was that? Oh, I remember. Kirk and Dorothy Janek. They’re an older couple who own a large home over on Maple. They rent out the upstairs. Real nice people. I think you’d like them. I’ll give you their number if you’d like.”

“Oh, thank you. That’d be great.”

He found the number in the phone book on his desk and scratched it down on a notepad that advertised worm medicine. He handed it to her, then rose from his chair. She followed suit.

“If you’d like to think about the job for a few days and get back to me, that’d be fine,” he told her.

“No.” She didn’t want to appear too eager, but she wanted this job. “I’ll take it. When would you like me to start?”

“If you want the truth, this very minute.” His smile told her he was kidding, but just then Natalie let out a howl.

“She didn’t like that idea one bit,” he said, laughing. “I guess I’ll have to settle for next Monday morning then. Could you start that soon?” he asked, turning serious.

“I’ll be here,” she told him over Natalie’s protests. Daria reached down to take her daughter out of the infant seat. Immediately the baby quieted.

“Mind if I hold her?” Dr. Hunter asked shyly.

Daria was pleased by his request and quickly replied, “Sure.”

She started to hand the baby over to him.

“Hang on a sec,” he said. “Let me take off this dirty thing first.” He slipped off his less-than-white lab coat and draped it over the back of his chair. Then he went around to her side of the desk and reached out to take the baby in his arms as easily as if she were a newborn puppy.

Daria was taken aback by the sight of her daughter in a man’s arms. Unbidden, a vision of Nathan holding Natalie—cooing at her the way Dr. Hunter was now—popped into her mind. It was at once comforting and upsetting. Nate would have been such a good father.
Oh, Natalie, how much you will miss not knowing him
, she thought.

The baby began to squirm and fuss and turn her head toward Dr. Hunter’s chest as though she wanted to nurse.

Daria was embarrassed, but he spoke easily, “Okay, little one, I get the message. I’m not going to be able to help you out in that department. I better give you back to your mama.”

He handed the baby gently over to Daria. Their hands brushed as they made the exchange, and she found his touch strangely intimate. Heat rose to her face, but Dr. Hunter seemed not to notice.

“I’m looking forward to working with you, Daria. I’ll see you Monday morning then. If you could come in a few minutes early and fill out all the tax forms, that would be great.”

She nodded politely and busied herself with putting Natalie back in the carrier for the ride home.

Through the rest of the day and late into that night, thoughts of Nathan ensnared her. Seeing an attractive man holding Nate’s baby, the baby Nate had never seen—hadn’t even known about—and feeling the gentle touch of a masculine hand on hers, had brought the memories bolting back. She missed him desperately.

Six

N
ow I suppose you’d need a place to park your car?” The sprightly, grey-haired woman’s mild accent bespoke her German heritage. “I told Kirk you could park your car right up here and use our back door.” With one broad motion of her plump arm, Dorothy Janek indicated the end of the driveway, which widened toward the back of the house.

“That would be wonderful,” Daria told her. “Actually I don’t have a car yet. But I’ll be using one of my dad’s vehicles for a while—until I’ve saved a little money—so I’ll still need a place to park,” she added quickly.

They were standing in front of the apartment Dr. Hunter had told her about. She had arranged to see it today and was immediately taken with the charming, countrylike setting. The main entrance to the upstairs apartment was on the south side of the house; the narrow stairway spilled down to a rather rickety side porch.

“You can use the back entrance,” Mrs. Janek said. “We had a bachelor living here before. We didn’t know him from Adam, and I certainly didn’t want him in and out our door just anytime he pleased. But we can’t have you falling down those stairs with that precious bundle in your arms. And come winter, those steps are slicker than a greased pig. No,” she said decisively, barely stopping to take a breath, “you’ll use our back door.”

Daria hid a smile. The Janeks didn’t know her from Adam either, but she wasn’t going to point that out just now. “That would be wonderful, Mrs. Janek,” she said instead.

Huffing energetically, her ample bosom heaving, the old woman led Daria through the back door and up the stairs to the apartment. Carrying Natalie in her arms, Daria followed her prospective landlady.

Pointing out the large closets and hardwood floors, Dorothy Janek bustled importantly around the little apartment that took up the entire second story of the old farmhouse. Originally a warren of five bedrooms, the space had been recently remodeled to open lovely views of the leafy tops of the ancient elms that stood sentinel around the house. “My grandparents built this house when they came over from Germany in the late 1800s. It was in the country back then, but Bristol just sprang up around them, and before they knew it, they lived in town!” she chuckled.

An oak staircase, which opened onto a large L-shaped living area, split the upstairs hall. Daria could picture a small dining table at the head of the stairs just outside the kitchenette. The pantry had recently been painted, judging by the acrid smell that permeated the room when she opened the door.

Two adjoining rooms at the back—divided by heavy oak pocket doors—would be perfect for her bedroom and Natalie’s nursery. And between the kitchen and bedrooms was a small bath that still had an old claw-foot bathtub and freestanding basin.

“We really intended to replace the tub when we remodeled,” the landlady apologized, “but we would have had to take out the wall to get that monster out of here, so we just left it be.”

Daria loved the quaint coziness of the apartment—and the fact that it was just a few blocks from Dr. Hunter’s veterinary clinic. She would still have to make the trip to the farm and back with Natalie each day, but at least she would be able to come home for lunch.

“I’ll take it,” Daria told the elderly woman when they had circled back to the living room.

“Oh, that’s just dandy, honey. We were hoping to get somebody nice and quiet in the place.”

Daria laughed nervously. “You might not think we’re so quiet when Natalie starts screaming at three o’clock in the morning.”

“Ach,” Dorothy Janek waved the thought away as though it were a pesky fly. “The sound of a baby crying isn’t noise! It’ll be music to our ears. Besides, she’ll be sleeping through the night before you know it. You just enjoy every minute with this little one. She’ll be off to college in the wink of an eye.” She reached out and squeezed the baby’s toes affectionately.

Before Daria left, she wrote the Janeks a check for the first month’s rent plus the small deposit they required. Though the expense depleted the small savings account she had from Nate’s insurance, she drove back to her parents’ farm with a deep sense of accomplishment and excitement.

“We’re going to make it just fine, Nate,” she whispered into the silence of the car. “Oh, thank you, Lord, for providing this apartment. It’s perfect, just perfect. Thank you, Father, for taking care of us.”

She prayed easily during the rest of the drive back to the farm, giving thanks and making her needs known to her heavenly Father. If only it would be so simple to break the news to her earthly father.

Daria’s first day on the job was scarcely an hour old when she realized that it was going to be as frenzied as any she’d ever spent in the wilds of Colombia. She had just finished a quick tour of the clinic and was sitting at the desk in the reception room trying to figure out the computer, when a pickup truck raced into the parking lot, kicking up gravel. Through the window, she watched as a man in coveralls jumped out of the passenger seat and ran into the clinic.

“Where’s Dr. Hunter?” he demanded, his voice on the edge of panic. “My dogs got hit on the highway. I got ‘em out here in the truck. They’re hurt pretty bad.”

“I’ll get Dr. Hunter right away,” she said with more confidence than she felt. She started toward the back, but the veterinarian had apparently overheard the ruckus and was already on his way down the hall. He raced past her, motioning for her to follow him outside.

She went, feeling useless standing beside Dr. Hunter while he assessed the dogs’ injuries right there in the parking lot.

“This here’s Bess,” the man told the doctor, rubbing the head of a small English setter.

“Hey, Bess,” Dr. Hunter spoke soothing words to the dog, as though she were human. He inspected two deep gashes on her hindquarters and said, “We need to get these cuts sutured right away. This gash on her flank is awfully deep.” He rubbed the dog behind the ears, then turned his attention to the larger dog, a male setter that was whining pathetically.

“Feels like we’ve got a broken bone in this front leg,” he said, palpating the leg carefully. “But it’ll have to wait until we get Bess sutured. I don’t want her to lose any more blood.”

Now he turned to Daria. “Travis is out on a call, and Jennifer won’t be in until after school. Carla doesn’t work on Monday mornings, so you’re it, Daria. I’m going to need your help in surgery.”

It was an order, not a request, and Daria quickly realized that her job was going to entail much more than answering phones.

Trying not to let Dr. Hunter or the farmer see how badly her hands were shaking, she followed the two men—each carrying a dog—into the surgery room. Dr. Hunter sedated the larger dog and got it settled in a cage, then he prepared to suture the deep wounds the smaller dog had sustained.

“This will be your baptism by fire, Daria,” he told her under his breath as he scrubbed his hands in the corner basin of the small examining room. “Ever assisted with surgery before?”

A memory of a day in Colombia flashed through her mind, and she tried to push the gory scene away as she answered, “My husband was a doctor. I helped him sometimes. But I don’t know anything about all this.” She nodded her head to encompass the room’s array of sterile equipment.

“I’ll talk you through it. Mostly I just need you to hand me instruments.” He showed her how to scrub with special antiseptic soap, giving her a quick review of the procedure he was about to do.

They went to the table where the dog’s owner stood attempting to soothe the frightened animal.

“Malcolm, why don’t you come around here. Stand on this side and hold her head, talk to her. It’ll help calm her.” Dr. Hunter gently pulled the edges of the deep wound apart and irrigated it with sterile water from a syringe. The owner turned white, and Dr. Hunter added quickly, “You don’t have to look.”

Those words brought the memory crashing back again. Daria moved in close to the stainless steel table and gripped its side for support. The memory intruded and, in her mind, she was back in Colombia, standing beside Nate over a crude table where a tiny girl lay screaming. The toddler had fallen on a sharp rock and sliced a deep gash in her forehead. There was blood everywhere, and the child’s mother was as hysterical as the wounded girl. Nate had needed Daria’s help to restrain the toddler so he could clean and close the wound.

Daria had assisted Nate with minor procedures before, but she found herself lightheaded and shaky at the grisly sight. Nate had taken one look at her eyes and, apparently seeing the fear in them, had shouted harshly at her, “Daria! Get a grip! I need you! Think of something else. You don’t have to look, but hold her head tightly. Don’t let her move.”

Now she took Nate’s advice from the past. She took a deep breath and focused on the instruments lined up on the counter beside the table. Dr. Hunter looked her in the eye. “Ready?”

She nodded bravely, and his eyes crinkled in a smile. “Okay. Hand me the swabs.”

Daria made it through her first veterinary surgery. Then after making numerous phone calls to reschedule the afternoon’s appointments, she readied the room for the second injured dog.

By the time they were finished with the surgeries, they were hours behind schedule, but Carla came in to relieve her.

“Thanks for your help this morning,” Dr. Hunter told her when they finally had a chance to sit down for a few minutes in the office behind the reception counter. “I’m really sorry you got roped into this on your first day on the job.”

“It’s okay,” she told him. She added dryly, “I’m just glad it was dogs and not hogs.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a warm, contagious whoop that filled the room. “I wish I could promise you that tomorrow won’t be as wild,” he said, still laughing, “but chances are I’d be lying through my teeth.”

“Thanks for the warning. But it might have been more, um, appropriate, to warn me
before
I accepted this job,” she joked, chuckling along with him.

Their laughter died down, and he turned serious. “Well, you did a fine job. You really did.” He paused a minute as if considering how to phrase something. “You said your husband was a doctor? You were missionaries—South America, was it?”

She nodded. “Colombia.”

“I guess I didn’t realize he was a physician.”

She swallowed hard. “Yes. We went to Colombia just a few months after Nate finished at KU Med Center. There was no clinic in our village, and since there was no airstrip there we had only what little equipment we could take in with us. It was incredibly primitive. But Nate was a good doctor.” She paused, clearing her throat. “It was while we were there that he was killed.”

He nodded. “I remember seeing the stories in the paper when he…died. I didn’t make the connection when I first met you.” He hesitated again before speaking. “I heard that he was missing for a while before you learned that he’d died.”

“More than two weeks.” She realized with a little surprise that this was the first time she’d told her story to a stranger. Her friends and everyone at her church already knew her circumstances. Revisiting that time aloud now, eight months later, she felt herself choking up. She cleared her throat again, struggling for control.

But Dr. Hunter looked into her eyes, unabashed. “What a tragedy. It must have been very difficult for you.”

“It
is
very difficult.”

“Yes.” He shook his head sympathetically, his eyes never wavering from hers. “I’m sorry. I know a little of what it must be like for you. I suppose you’ve heard that I’m also widowed.”

Daria nodded. Dorothy Janek had told her that Dr. Hunter was a widower. She sometimes forgot that she didn’t have the corner on grief. “Yes, I know that. I’m sorry. Of course you know what it’s like.”

“It’s been several years—since the accident.” He put his head down, then looked back at her with a sad smile. “It gets easier. Don’t give up.”

“Thank you.” It was an awkward moment, yet something tender passed between them.

The phone rang and broke the tension. But later Daria decided that it had felt good to talk about Nate, to affirm his life to someone who hadn’t known him. She felt as though she had taken an important step forward, and she was grateful to Dr. Hunter for making it easy—and for causing her to remember that she wasn’t the only one who had ever lost a love. She tried to picture the kind of woman to whom Colson Hunter might have been married. No doubt she had been a sweet, patient woman.

The day continued at a frantic pace, and it was midafternoon before Carla finally had a free moment to show Daria how to run some of the office machines and further explain the duties that would be expected of her.

“These need to be sent out on the fifteenth of each month.” Carla was reviewing the billing procedure when Dr. Hunter stepped into the office. “And you can work on updating the medical files whenever you have time.”

“That is, when you’re not assisting in surgery,” Dr. Hunter chimed in, winking.

Jennifer Daly came in after school and took over where Carla had left off, teaching Daria how to use the printer and explaining the filing system. In spite of the boyfriend who came to pick her up at closing time, it was apparent that Jennifer had a serious crush on her boss. She flirted demurely with Dr. Hunter and, when he wasn’t looking, gazed at him through dreamy, hooded eyes. But she was a sweet, personable girl and a good teacher, and Daria enjoyed the time spent with her.