A Tender Touch
“Oh, I get it. You told Samson this already, right?”
Freddie nodded. “We had a long talk the other day while you were busy taking pictures. But I did try to tell you, too.”
Clay rubbed a hand down his face, thinking now would be a good time for the earth to swallow him up. “It was a crazy day. I didn’t get to visit with many of the guests.”
“I understand,” Freddie replied, her smile softening. “Let’s start over then.” She extended her hand, all professional and very serious. “I’m animal doctor Fredrica Hayes. I took over this clinic about two weeks ago. And you can call me Freddie.”
Clay took her hand, noticing her clean, clear fingernail polish and her sensible nails. Everything about her was clean and fresh and sensible. And incredibly attractive. “You sure beat old Doc Bates. And you can call me Clay.”
“Oh, not Clayton? I’ve heard your mother call you by that name.”
Clay shook his head, winced. “Never that, please.” Then because he didn’t want to start stuttering, he asked, “So what happened to Dr. Bates?”
“He sold out to me and moved to Louisiana, to be near his grandchildren,” Freddie explained. “I hope to improve things around here, update this place a bit—it’s a lease with an option to buy, which I intend to do. But money’s tight right now, so I’ll have to wait awhile on that.”
“It’s looking better already,” Clay said, again wishing he could bite his tongue before he opened his mouth. “I mean, this place could use some improvements.”
Kate rolled her eyes, then moved past them. “I’ll get the office cranked up and make us some coffee. Oh, and I brought croissants.”
“You are an angel,” Freddie told the girl. “Kate’s going to school at night in Savannah. She hopes to be my partner one day.”
Kate nodded, tossed her wispy hair. “But until that day, I’m the office manager.”
“Nice,” Clay said, his gaze moving over the clean tile floors and uncluttered benches. There was a basket in the corner, filled with animal toys. Samson immediately headed over to sniff it out.
Freddie looked at her watch. “My other assistant should be here soon. His name is Lee Fletcher.”
“I remember Lee,” Clay said, relieved that something was the same. “We went to school together.”
“Lee is a character,” Freddie said as she opened doors and turned on lights, motioning for Clay and Samson to follow her into a small examining room down the hall. “He’s a perpetual beach bum, content to work here and spend his off time out on a sailboat or jet ski.”
Clay commanded Samson up onto the examining table. “Sometimes I wonder if the simple life might be the best life. Maybe Lee’s got the right idea.”
Freddie stood across the table at him, her big brown eyes making him think of hot chocolate and warm kisses on a moonlight beach. “That’s the reason I came here,” she said, her eyes darkening to a rich brown. “I wanted to raise Ryan away from the city, wanted him to have a more simple, structured life.”
Clay took in that information and the way her dark eyes turned so serious and intense, then said, “I grew up here, but I couldn’t wait to get away. I craved the excitement of the city.”
“But you’re back now.”
He saw the questions in her eyes, but Clay wasn’t ready to answer those questions. He didn’t have the answers yet.
“Just for a vacation,” he said instead. “Just to get Samson healed up and ready to go back on duty.”
If they went back on duty, he thought.
“Then let’s get started,” Freddie said, her whole demeanor changing from friendly to professional again. But Clay thought he saw something else in her big brown eyes, some evasive quality that seemed to effectively shut her down. She rubbed Samson’s furry back, then gave Clay a direct look. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Oh, here,” Clay said, shoving a large envelope toward her. “His records.”
“Okay,” she said, taking the envelope. “I’ll read over these later. But I want you to tell me what happened.”
“Why can’t you just read the file?”
“I can. But I need to understand what Samson went through, how he’s been since he’s healed. I need to understand your relationship with him.”
Clay wished Dr. Bates were here. That man would have just grunted and examined the dog. Then he would have probably handed them a list of exercises to complete. But Dr. Bates had gone west and Clay was here, staring at the lovely and determined Dr. Freddie Hayes. And he really didn’t want to go into detail with her about that night.
But she was waiting.
Finally, he sighed, folded his arms across his chest and took on his police-giving-a-report tone. “It was a Code Five—”
“Use plain English.”
“The narcotics agents had been on a stakeout in the area earlier that day. They tried to nab a suspect, but he’d fled into this building. They’d received a tip that he was gone, but he’d stashed some drugs there. We were instructed to watch for the suspect, and then search for illegal weapons and drugs if we didn’t find him. We—Samson and I—were supposed to proceed on a search for evidence once we heard the all clear. It was an old, abandoned warehouse. We thought it was empty.”
“And?”
He shrugged, dropped a hand onto Samson’s back. “And we got in there to begin our search, and it wasn’t empty. The suspect was there, trying either to hide or move his stash, I don’t know. Samson alerted immediately, but it was too late. The suspect started shooting.” He stopped, took a deep breath, tried to focus. “The DEA called for backup, but Samson and I had to hide out on some stairs. We were trapped inside with the suspect, in a shoot-out.”
Her eyes widened as her skin paled to a porcelain sheen. “Oh, my.” Clay watched as she protectively placed a hand on Samson’s head.
Clay sank down on a cushioned bench beside the table. “Yeah, oh, my. That’s what I was thinking, too, but in more graphic terms, when I had to return fire. I tried to wait for backup. I tried to retreat. But the bullets just kept coming. It was too dangerous to let Samson loose on the suspect, and I knew the boys would back me up. Anyway, I saw a chance and we took it. We headed up the stairs to what I thought was an exit door. The suspect came after us and we exchanged more gunfire. I wounded him and he dropped his weapon, but he kept coming. He fell against me and the weight of his body propelled us toward the exit door. I commanded Samson to attack then and he did. It gave me just enough time to get the suspect off me and down on the floor.”
Freddie was watching him now, understanding dawning in her dark eyes. “Something else happened then, right?”
“Right.” He looked down at the floor. “We wrestled back and forth. I could hear the other officers shouting. I called out, then I commanded Samson to attack again. He came at the suspect just as I rolled the man over against that old door.” He looked back up at her then, his mouth dry. Swallowing, he said, “The suspect found his gun and aimed it toward me as Samson leaped at him. I saw it coming. I pushed his hand away but our combined weight broke the door just as Samson lunged for the suspect. We all went over into an old elevator shaft. There was another struggle.” He stopped here, not ready to go into detail about his own wounds. “I managed to get a shot at the suspect. The suspect died and Samson suffered a broken hip.” He sat silent, then breathed deep again. “That was over three months ago. He’s doing pretty good—he does have a noticeable limp at times, if he’s been too active. He’s just not as alert and fast as he used to be. If we don’t get him back into shape, he’ll have to retire.”
“I see.”
She stood there, so quiet Clay wondered if she had a squeamish stomach. She looked pale, her wide lips drawn together. There was more to the story, but he wasn’t about to tell her that part. He was here to help Samson.
“So what do we need to do now?” he finally asked.
Freddie looked up at him, her eyes going wide. “Oh, well, of course you need to exercise him.” She flipped through the medical folder, then moved her hand down Samson’s right front leg. “This one, right?”
Clay touched Samson on the head to steady the big dog. “You might need to muzzle him. He’s still sensitive there.”
Freddie whispered something in Samson’s ear as she stroked his leg, then moved her fingers over his hip joint. “He seems to have healed up nicely. Some obvious signs of limping, you said?”
“Not as often now. The vet in Atlanta did a great job. And we’ve been through several weeks of intense therapy already. You know, the cart—that wheelchairlike thing—a leg trolley, then water therapy and the treadmill.”
“We’ll need to continue that,” she said, her gaze moving over Samson. “He seems in good spirits.”
“He’s recovering slowly. But my supervisor isn’t ready to release him back on to full duty yet.” Or me, either, he thought.
“So…you brought him here to get him back in tiptop shape?”
Clay nodded, glanced out the big window off to the side. “I thought the sand and water might be good for him. We can run the beach, he can climb the dunes and bluffs. And Stone says we can use the pool at Hidden Hills so Samson can swim to improve his range of motion. We’re staying out there, watching the place while Stone is away on his honeymoon.”
“I’d also suggest a Swiss ball and some dancing,” Freddie said with a grin aimed toward the dog.
Clay smiled, too, relaxing again. “Okay. I’ll get Samson a Swiss ball and…I’ll take you dancing.”
“Not me,” she replied, turning all business again by refusing to look at Clay. “Samson needs to dance.”
“Oh.” Clay hoped he wasn’t blushing—he hadn’t done this much foot-in-the-mouth since high school. But he pressed on, determined in spite of his stupidity. “Well, Doc, how come he gets to dance and I don’t?”
“You can dance with him,” she replied. “Here, I’ll show you.” She motioned for Samson to hop off the table, then held her hands in the air. “C’mon, boy.”
At least Samson wasn’t stupid. He lifted up his two front legs, his big tongue flopping in an excited grin.
“The trick is,” Freddie said as she gently held Samson’s paws, “to make him use his legs, to rebuild the muscles. Even though his front thigh and hip were damaged, he needs to stay strong all over. So we dance.”
With that, she moved Samson around the small examining room, the dog’s thick hind claws tapping on the clean linoleum floor while Freddie’s sneakers squeaked in an answering rhythm. “That’s it. See, that’s not so bad, is it?”
Clay stood back, amazed at how relaxed his dog was with this woman. Why couldn’t he relax like that, instead of making dumb comments?
“You’re a very good dancer,” Freddie told Samson. The dog glanced around at Clay, as if to say “she likes me better than she does you.”
Clay could see that without the dog pointing it out.
Fredrica Hayes was a nice, accommodating veterinarian, a woman who obviously had a way with animals. She’d be great with Samson’s extended therapy and healing.
But she obviously didn’t like men as much as she liked animals. Or maybe it was just him, Clay reasoned.
Maybe she just didn’t like him.
Which was a shame.
He could use some healing, too.
Chapter Three
“I like him, but I don’t date cops.”
Freddie saw the meaningful looks pass between the group of women she was having lunch with at Ana’s. She wished she hadn’t blurted that bit of information, but it was so nice to have other women with whom to share, she’d just relaxed her guard too much and let it slip. Living here on the island did that to a person. The whole town was laid-back and unhurried, carefree and pleasant. All the things she’d missed so much during her nine years of a hectic, chaotic marriage. A marriage that had sadly ended in tragedy and violence, because of her husband’s lifestyle.
“Why don’t you date cops?” Tina asked with wide-eyed interest. “I mean, yum-yum. You know, a man in uniform.”
“Yeah,” Charlotte added, her grin widening. “And Clay Dempsey is just adorable. In uniform, or in a tux. Did you see him at the wedding reception? He was so sweet, looking so nervous when he made the toast. Just a cutie-pie.”
Ana smiled over at her co-workers. “Don’t you two have napkins to fold or something?”
“Nope,” Tina said, shaking her head. “You do give us a lunch break, remember? And according to my watch, we have ten minutes left.” To emphasize that point, she popped another miniature chicken-salad puff pastry into her mouth.
Jackie, Ana’s capable bookkeeper and hostess, came out onto the porch where they all sat. “Just booked us another one of those romantic Saturday-night private dinners, boss. What’d I miss?”
“Freddie doesn’t date cops,” Tina explained, rolling her brown eyes. “Such a shame.”
“Really?” Jackie sank down on one of the bistro chairs. It was midafternoon, so the tearoom was empty for now. A cool breeze ruffled the red geraniums filling several pots on the long, inviting front porch where they had gathered. “Hey, Clay Dempsey is a cop, right?”
“Right,” Charlotte said, nodding. “And he’s been flirting with Freddie.”
“I didn’t say he’s been flirting,” Freddie responded, wishing again she’d never brought Clay Dempsey’s name into the conversation. “I was just telling Ana that he’s…you know, made pointed remarks…to me.”
“Suggestive remarks?”
Freddie shook her head at Ana’s question. “No. He’s, well, he is a sweetie. It’s rather endearing, really. He blurts out things, then freezes in a kind of nervous, self-conscious way.”
“He’s interested,” Charlotte confirmed with a toss of her curls. “Yup, he’s sure interested, all right.”
“And you know this because…?” Jackie asked, her eyebrows lifting.
“Because I went to school with Clay. We graduated from high school together. And…he never flirted with me. Clay was the quiet Dempsey, always trying to please everyone around him. He worked hard at school and played hard at all kinds of sports and vowed the whole time that he was leaving this island for the big city. He always wanted to be a policeman.” She tapped her finger on the table. “But now he’s back and he’s…flirting. Clay never flirted unless he was serious. He had to get up his nerve. Yup, he’s interested,” she said again, her tapping picking up its tempo.
“But I’m not,” Freddie said, taking a sip of her peach-mango tea to calm the jitters in her stomach. “I can’t get involved with another cop.”
“Old boyfriend?” Tina asked as she peeled the skin off her orange slice, then tossed the fresh wedge of fruit into her mouth.
Freddie didn’t want to explain, but she felt cornered. And it was good to have female friends to confide in. If these friends could be trusted. She knew she could trust Ana, but what about the rest?
“You can trust us,” Jackie said as if she’d read Freddie’s mind. “But if you don’t want to tell us—”
“She does,” Charlotte said, “don’t you?”
“I want you to understand,” Freddie replied, amused in spite of her qualms at how the women were all waiting impatiently for her to spill her worries. “But please don’t spread this around. My son—”
“They won’t repeat it,” Ana said, her eyes narrowing in a glare that told her employees they’d better heed her gentle warning. “Right, girls?”
Three heads bobbed. “No. No way. Never.”
Freddie had to smile at that. “I was married to a cop.”
“Oh, Ryan’s father?” Ana asked, concern in her voice.
“Yes.” She glanced out toward the ocean across the narrow ribbon of road. The cobalt water beckoned her. She wished she could forget the past and enjoy the tranquility of this tiny island. But she knew it would take time. “He died in the line of duty.”
All of the women became quiet then. Ana reached a hand across the table to Freddie. “That’s tough. I’m so sorry. I knew you were a widow, but…well, I had no idea.”
“How long?” Jackie asked.
“A little over a year ago,” Freddie replied, memories hitting at her with gale force. “We lived in Dallas. He’d been on the force there for six years. His father and his older brother are both police officers, too. They all took it pretty hard.”
She didn’t say how hard or that they’d made her life miserable after Gary’s death.
“Wow,” Tina said. “That’s so sad.”
Freddie couldn’t tell her new friends how horrible her former life had been. She couldn’t tell them that Gary had been controlling and overbearing, that he didn’t allow her to have girlfriends. Or that her marriage had been on the verge of ending long before her husband got killed. “I have relatives in Georgia, not far from Savannah, so I decided to move back here. I needed a fresh start.”
“Good idea,” Jackie said, getting up. “Girls, I think we need to get back to work. Let’s get the kitchen in order so we can knock off early this afternoon.”
Ana shot her friend a thankful look. Freddie was relieved that none of the women pressed her further, but she felt as if they couldn’t wait to get in the kitchen and whisper about what she’d just revealed. Soon, she was alone with Ana, the sound of seagulls cawing giving her a sense of peace. The afternoon breeze had a touch of fall in it.
Freddie lifted her head, enjoying the fresh, crisp air. “I love it here.”
Ana nodded, poured them more hot tea. “This island has that effect on people. It has a way of healing any hurts.”
Freddie took a sip of tea. “I can see that. Rock and you, Stone and Tara—you all seem so happy.”
Ana’s smile was bittersweet. “It wasn’t always that way. Rock and I had a lot of things standing between us, but we managed to work them out. I’m happy for Tara and Stone, too. Oh, and I got a postcard from them today. They’re in Paris, shopping for pieces to refurbish Hidden Hill, and of course, Tara is worried about the girls.”
“Your parents are with them in Savannah, right?”
“Yes, but you know how it is, being a mother. Tara can’t wait to get home and help the girls get ready for school.”
“Yes, I have to get Ryan settled into his new school, too,” Freddie said. “I can’t believe he’ll be in first grade this fall, plus he has a birthday coming up in October. And speaking of that, I’d better get over to the day care and pick him up. I promised him we’d go frolicking on the beach this afternoon.”
Ana looked wistful. “I can’t wait to be a mother.”
Freddie saw Ana’s secretive smile. “Any chance that might be happening?”
“We’re trying,” Ana admitted. “You know, we’ve only been married three months, so we don’t want to rush things, but we’re both so ready to be parents.”
“You’d be a great mother,” Freddie replied, happiness for Ana pushing away her own dark memories. “And Rock—that man has such a way with children.”
“Yes, he does,” Ana said, her smile beaming. “Tara’s girls love him so much.” She went back to gathering dishes. “Anyway, we’ll see.”
“I hope you get your wish,” Freddie said, touching a hand on Ana’s arm. “Being a mother—it’s like nothing else. The love you feel…well, let’s just say it’s going to be hard to watch Ryan grow up, but I guess that’s part of the deal. Until then, though, I’m going to enjoy him being a little boy by taking him down to the beach to make sand castles.”
“School starts next week. Better enjoy these last days of summer.”
“I intend to,” Freddie replied as she grabbed her tote bag.
“I am sorry about your husband,” Ana said. “I mean, we all knew you were a widow, but I guess no one wanted to be too nosy and ask exactly how your husband had died.”
“Now you know,” Freddie said, hoping Ana wouldn’t press for details. “I’m adjusting, though.”
“That’s good. It took Tara a while to accept her first husband’s death. I’m so glad she found Stone.”
Freddie thought about how happy and in love Stone and Tara had looked at their wedding reception, a little stab of some unspoken emotion piercing at her heart. “They make a beautiful couple.”
“Freddie?”
She turned to find Ana staring at her. “Yes?”
“About Clay?”
“He’s very nice and very cute. But…I can’t date a cop.”
“That’s too bad,” Ana said, a determined look on her face. “Clay is different from his brothers. Rock was once bitter and a bit controlling, and Stone had just shut down on all levels, but thankfully, they’ve both changed a lot lately. But Clay—he has a tender nature that hides all his hurts.”
“What kind of hurts could Clay Dempsey possibly have? He seems very down-to-earth and centered to me.”
Ana smiled again, then began gathering their dishes. “Like I said, he has a tender nature that hides a world of hurts. And…he was so young when the Dempseys lost their father. He might be a big help to Ryan.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Freddie replied. “But I don’t intend to get involved with another policeman.”
“End of discussion?”
“End of discussion.”
Ana didn’t look convinced, Freddie thought as she walked back up the street toward Ryan’s day care, the sound of the ocean’s continuous waves falling into a rhythm with her footsteps. The air smelled so clean and pure, she took a deep, calming breath and put Clay Dempsey out of her mind.
But if she admitted it to herself, Freddie knew she wasn’t entirely convinced of her declaration to not get involved with a policeman. Clay did seem like a nice enough person. But then, she’d only had two conversations with the man.
Clay Dempsey might be different from his brothers.
But would he be any different from her husband?
“She’s different from the women I’ve dated back in Atlanta,” Clay told his mother later that day.
They were sitting in Eloise’s vast, high-ceilinged kitchen. Eloise was peeling peaches for cobbler, while her trusty caretakers Cy and Neda Wilson worked on a dinner of blue crabs and fried oysters—both favorites of Clay’s.
“Are you dating her?” Eloise asked, the pride and hope in her silver eyes making Clay cringe.
“No, Mother. I told you, she’s Samson’s doctor.”
The big dog heard his name and came trotting into the kitchen, whimpering a greeting.
“Yes, he’s talking about you, fellow,” Eloise said, smiling down at the waiting dog. “I can’t pet you right now, Samson. My hands are covered in peach juice.”
Samson’s big brown eyes widened, then he circled the long butcher-block work space and found a worn spot on the hardwood floors.
“Good boy,” Clay said, watching the dog. Samson’s eyes held a trust and loyalty that still amazed Clay. He wished humans could be so trusting.
“You know, Samson is Josiah’s first name,” Eloise said, that burning hope still in her eyes. “Or is it his second name? Anyway, we call him Josiah. He lives out in the marsh—you met him at the wedding. You’ll probably get to know him when Stone and Tara return from Europe. Your brother expects you to help him out in that swamp.”
“That swamp is going to be their front yard,” Neda reminded Eloise with a chuckle. “I still can’t picture sophisticated Tara living out in the marshes.”
“Tara is tougher than she looks,” Eloise replied as she finished the last peach, then began layering the slices into a long glass baking dish. “And so is our Freddie, I believe. Now, Clay, tell me more about her.”
“I don’t know a whole lot,” Clay admitted, silently laughing at the way his mother had turned the conversation back to Freddie Hayes. “She’s been here a few weeks. She’s living in a small cottage down by the boardwalk, not far from the animal clinic, and…she sure is prettier than old Doc Bates.”
“You can say that again,” Cy called from the stove. He was a big man with a precision crew cut. He’d been a cook in the navy and now he cooked for Eloise.
“I heard that,” Neda said as she passed by with flour and sugar for the cobbler, her eyes twinkling. “But you’re right. Fredrica is a pretty woman.” She gave Clay a meaningful look.
“Is everyone on the island determined to get Freddie and me together?” Clay asked.
“Pretty much,” Eloise said without a trace of guilt or coyness. “You’d make a perfect match.”