Boone, page 14
Just like old times, Boone thought as she blushed prettily. But this time, instead of wishing and wondering if she cared for him, he knew for a fact that the blush came less from embarrassment than from her own repressed desire for him.
Yes, indeed, he had solid evidence that Nixie loved him. Boone planned to press his advantage and force her to admit it. Somehow, he had to prove to her that the “obstacles” she’d cited were surmountable. He needed to prove that, between the two of them, they could leap all hurdles on their path to wedded bliss.
Just as he’d expected, she chose to take his words at face value. “You can see if the van with the donkeys has arrived yet.”
“It pulled in a couple of minutes ago, and they’re parking it in the outfield.”
“Won’t that be in the way?”
“Nah. The squishy ball they’re using will keep the game near the infield.”
As if suddenly aware of their proximity, she stepped back, away from the circle of his arms. Boone made no effort to stop her. She could keep physical distance from him, but he wouldn’t let her push him away emotionally.
“How are Bethany and Brad?” he asked.
She lifted the damp bangs off her forehead, poked out her lower lip, and blew. “Fine. Uncle Jay and Aunt Lauren will be bringing them soon. They’ve been looking forward to this for a long time.”
“Precious and Stormy?”
She hesitated as if suspicious of his line of questioning. “We’re going to have to find Stormy a new home. I’ve been putting it off, hoping he and Precious would learn to get along. But now the kids have become attached to him.”
Boone shoved his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “I’m sorry. If I’d known, I would have insisted on taking the kitten with me that day I found him under your bush.”
“It’s okay.” Automatically, she touched his arm.
Yes, Boone thought, she really did care for him.
“Aunt Lauren said she and Uncle Jay would take him if it didn’t work out. And the kids would still get to play with him.”
Boone nodded. “And Tarzan? Has he learned any new words lately?”
Nixie smiled. Boone could tell she thought he was teasing her again with all his questions about the inhabitants of her house. She rested her hands on her back pockets, and Boone enjoyed the way the movement showed off her womanly figure.
“He hasn’t learned any new words,” she said, “but Bethany’s been threatening to teach him to say ‘Here, kitty, kitty.’”
Boone chuckled at the thought. “It would serve the bird right for all those times he made Precious jump when he barked at her.” He looked at her, probing her eyes with his gaze. “And how about Nixie? Is she happy?”
Boone didn’t miss how her smile faltered momentarily.
“I’m keeping busy.” She looked around them at the people who were starting to arrive. “It looks like we’ll have packed bleachers for the game. And I’m happy that we’ll be making lots of money for the upgraded emergency dispatch system.”
She hadn’t said she was happy at home. Or at night when she crawled between the sheets of that big, lonely bed. Boone was glad she wasn’t trying to deceive herself into believing she was happy without him.
That was half the battle won. To win the other half, Boone would have to get her to openly admit that she still loved him. And if he could win the battle, he’d have a better chance at claiming the ultimate victory … getting her to say yes to marrying him.
12
Later, as Nixie tugged at the halter of her recalcitrant donkey, she tried not to think about the man watching her from beside his mount at first base. He was one of those deemed too large to ride the tiny animal, so the rules allowed him to run beside it or, in this case, walk and drag.
Although the bleachers were packed with laughing fans, many of them calling advice to her, Nixie was unmindful of them. That one man had the power to make her feel self-conscious when all the others combined did not.
Each donkey had been trained to display a different temperament for the game. The animal’s name she had drawn out of the hat had been Flash, so it had come as a surprise to discover that the little beast didn’t live up to her name.
If she couldn’t get the donkey to its place beyond the batter’s box within the allotted amount of time, Nixie would lose her turn at bat, earning an automatic out.
And the rescue squad and fire department couldn’t afford that. The business owners had pledged to pay for every point the emergency crew scored over the opposing team.
Nixie let go of the halter and walked around to the back of the animal. Giving a push, she was grateful for the donkey’s mild-mannered disposition.
Gradually, with agonizing slowness, Nixie urged Flash to her appointed box. When the donkey’s hoof touched the chalk line, a cheer rose up from the bleachers. Taking the rubber bat in hand, Nixie stepped up to the batter’s box.
She glanced at the first baseman and squelched a giggle. The biggest man on the Bliss merchants’ team, Boone had drawn the name of Tiny, the smallest donkey. Without putting weight on the animal, Boone balanced on one leg with the other draped over Tiny’s back, just for show.
Winding up, the pitcher tossed the ball. Nixie made two strikes before she finally hit the padded ball with a dull thud. It rolled no more than twenty feet.
Players flew to action as they all raced for their mounts. Nixie clambered onto Flash’s back and urged her toward first base. The donkey plodded along as though she were on a Sunday stroll.
Up ahead, Nixie could see the pitcher had thrown toward Boone, who missed it when Tiny came to an abrupt stop just shy of the ball. With difficulty, Boone turned his donkey with one leg while hopping with the other keep his weight off the animal—raced toward the ball.
Just as Boone leaned to pick it up, Tiny knocked it with her front hoof and kicked it out of reach.
Meanwhile, Flash plodded steadily toward first base.
By now, the second baseman had figured out that his mount went left when urged right and right when steered left. By leaning in the opposite direction of where he wanted to go, he managed to work his way toward first base to back up Boone.
Nixie bounced on Flash’s back, nudged her sides with the heels of her sneakers, and gently swatted her rump. No matter what she did, the animal never changed course or sped up. But it didn’t matter because the other riders were just as disadvantaged as she.
Just as Flash was moseying up to the plate, Boone attempted to grab the ball and turn his miniature steed toward her. Hopping and flailing his arms, he managed to keep up with the swift-footed animal.
The pair doggedly raced toward her, and Nixie feared less that she’d score an out than that she’d get run over. When they were a few feet from her, Nixie cringed and waited for the inevitable impact.
It never came.
Boone’s donkey braced her little hooves in the dirt just beyond reach of the plate and came to another bone-jarring halt. And in his enthusiasm to tag Nixie out, Boone had apparently forgotten his mount’s annoying personality trait.
He pitched forward from the momentum of the sudden stop and did a half flip before landing flat on his back.
In a hurry to leave the damage she’d caused, Tiny jumped over her rider and headed toward the outfield to grab a mouthful of clover.
“Boone!” Nixie had heard his audible “Oomph!” when he hit the ground.
Forgetting about making sure Flash’s hoof touched first base, forgetting about the importance of scoring points to help earn more money for the squad, forgetting everything but the thought that Boone might be hurt as he lay motionless on the ground, Nixie jumped down and ran to him.
“Boone! Boone, are you all right?” She knelt beside him but resisted the urge to lift his head and cradle him in her arms.
From her experience running calls with the squad, she knew he could have sustained a serious injury. He may have damaged a vertebra the way he’d fallen so hard. Or he could have broken his neck or suffered a concussion.
Grabbing his wrist, she checked for a pulse. “Come on, Boone, you can’t do this to me,” she whispered. “Please tell me you can hear me.”
When he remained deathly still, Nixie felt a tear slide down her cheek. “Oh, God, Boone, I couldn’t stand it if anything bad happened to you.”
The other players had abandoned their donkeys, as well, and now circled them. “Is he breathing?” someone asked.
His eyes were shut, and in her panic Nixie couldn’t detect whether his chest was rising and falling as it should. She laid a hand on the hard planes of his chest and leaned closer to see if she could feel his breath against her cheek.
Someone shushed the crowd, but even so, she couldn’t detect any sign of respiration. She glanced at his handsome face and decided to listen again before beginning life-saving techniques. She put her ear close to his mouth.
His breath came out in a short, quick puff against her face. Startled at the unexpected response, she jerked around and looked into his smiling eyes.
“Go ahead and admit it, Nixie. You do love me.”
He had set her up. And Nixie had fallen for it like a row of dominoes.
It was Saturday morning, the day after Boone’s hoax, yet she still couldn’t stop thinking about the scare he’d given her. And the awkward part was that, with all those people crowded around them, she couldn’t deny what he’d said.
All she could do was drown him with her tears of relief and promise him that if he ever pulled another stunt like that, she’d personally give him a concussion.
Jeff finished backing the ambulance into the squad building’s bay. Nixie got out and pressed the button to lower the automatic door. Thanks to it being a weekend, they’d managed to pick up a third volunteer, Marvin, who had helped considerably on the rescue call.
“I’m glad old Mr. Binford is going to be all right,” Marvin said. “The way he was breathing, he had me pretty worried.”
Nixie chuckled as she recalled their trip to the emergency room with the elderly man gasping for breath. It wasn’t until Marvin had started questioning the man’s daughter that they discovered the reason for his breathing problem.
At age eighty-nine, Mr. Binford was unable to get around as much as he used to, so his daughter had installed a deluxe cable television service for him to watch. The old man had clicked through the channels until he found a program featuring women wrestlers. After a few moments of viewing, he had hyperventilated.
“I wish all our calls were this easy. Fix the problem, then cart ’em to the hospital to be checked out.” Nixie snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”
A few minutes later, as she pulled into her driveway, Nixie decided she’d have to tell Uncle Jay what happened to Bo Binford. She checked the mailbox and found one envelope. The return address was that of the Bliss Gazette. Something from Boone?
With tentative fingers, she opened the letter. It was from Aunt Alice, the advice columnist. Nixie had almost forgotten she’d sent that letter in which she’d poured out her frustrations.
Too late, she realized the embarrassment she could have caused if the letter had been used in the newspaper column. Thank goodness Aunt Alice had chosen to reply personally.
Dear Reader,
It appears your daughter did, indeed, want a father, but perhaps she expected a generic man who could be a companion to her mother and a helper to her and her brother. From what you told me in your letter, it seems she didn’t expect to involve her heart any more than if she were hiring a gardener. Yet, things turned out differently than she expected, and she began to love this man who recently re-entered your life. Have you considered that she may feel disloyal to her deceased father by loving another man?
Nixie stared at the letter in amazement. She had been trying for weeks to figure out what was bothering Bethany, and the only thing she could conclude was that her daughter was just as confused by her reaction to Boone as she was. And yet an advice columnist—a complete stranger—was able to sum up the problem in a mere paragraph. Nixie couldn’t help being astonished by the writer’s perception and insight.
The letter concluded:
Remember that children don’t always know what’s best for them. Be honest with the man you love and tell him what you told me. With the help of his love and understanding, both of you can help your daughter cope with her ambiguous feelings.
For the next several days, Nixie’s thoughts kept returning to Alice’s letter. Why hadn’t she seen that Bethany’s resistance reflected her loyalty to her father’s memory? Nixie supposed she had overlooked that possibility because Bethany had been so young when Paul died.
One thing was certain. Bethany had been receptive to Boone and enjoyed his friendship until they’d begun talking about marriage.
If her daughter had truly disliked him, Nixie’s decision to break things off with Boone would have been a little easier to bear. But she knew that Bethany cared for him as much as Brad did. That was what made things so frustrating.
Her heart ached as she thought of the pain she’d put Boone through. But, she reminded herself, she hadn’t known what else to do at the time.
Nixie walked into the living room and noticed that Brad had forgotten to cover Tarzan before he went to bed. Pulling the cloth up over the bird’s cage, she whispered, “Night-night.”
“Night-night,” the parrot echoed. Then the bird whispered a phrase she’d never heard him say before. In fact, she’d never heard the loudmouth whisper until now.
She listened closely, waiting for him to repeat the phrase. When he did, she couldn’t believe her ears.
“Boone loves Nixie,” the bird confided in a hushed croak.
Shocked, Nixie echoed the statement as if to verify what she’d just heard. “Boone loves Nixie?”
Tarzan sidestepped closer on his perch and peered at her through the bars with one beady eye. “Boone loves Nixie,” he whispered several times in succession. Then he shocked her back to reality by shrieking, “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.” Stunned, Nixie finished covering the cage.
“Night-night,” Tarzan peeped. Then he began quietly practicing the new sentence he’d just mastered.
Her mind still reeling, she stumbled into the kitchen to catch Stormy and lock him up for the night. Warm with emotion from the bird’s whispered revelation, Nixie hugged the little brown kitten.
“Boone loves Nixie,” she said to the squirming animal. “That must have been what he was mumbling to Tarzan all those times I found him by the cage.”
The advice columnist’s suggestion came back to her. Be honest with the man you love. Although she loved Boone with all her heart, she’d never told him—not even after his tumble at the donkey ball game. He would be coming tomorrow to take Brad to the den meeting. She’d tell him then. She’d also enlist his aid in helping Bethany cope with her “ambiguous feelings.”
For the first time in a long while, Nixie’s spirits soared. There was hope, after all. And that hope empowered her, made her sense that, together, she and Boone could accomplish anything. That they could even make Bethany realize there was room in their family, and in her heart, for a newcomer such as Boone.
Precious rubbed against her legs, demanding a bedtime snack, so she put Stormy down on the floor, reached into the pantry, and retrieved a can of the cat’s favorite flavor. Chicken chunks in sauce.
She opened the can and turned to get their bowls. Precious stood in front of Stormy with her back arched and fur standing on end. The yellow cat bared her teeth and hissed at the newcomer.
“Stop that,” Nixie said and stamped her foot at Precious. Remembering the overheard conversation Bethany had with her cat, she wished there was a way to get the animals to become friends.
Maybe if her daughter saw that Precious could accept an animal newcomer, then Bethany could accept a human one.
As she scooped the smelly stuff into the cat’s dish, an idea occurred to Nixie. It was a far-fetched idea, but at this point Nixie was willing to try anything.
Ignoring the angry hisses from Precious, she picked up the lanky kitten and cuddled him close. “Please excuse what I’m about to do to you,” she told the brown feline. “But if this works, we’ll both be thanking each other.”
That said, Nixie plunged her fingertips into the gravy-like sauce. Cooing all the while to the bewildered kitten, she stroked its head and left a patch of sauce smeared on its fur.
“On the other hand, if this doesn’t work,” she told him, “I’ll have to give you the added indignity of a bath.”
A few more strokes, and Stormy was covered with cat food sauce from his eyebrows to his ear tips and down his neck. “Please let this work,” Nixie murmured and set him on the floor near Precious.
The older cat hissed again. But just as she’d hoped, Precious suddenly stopped complaining and leaned forward, sniffing suspiciously. Moving closer, the cat sniffed her tiny counterpart.
Anxious, Nixie stood ready to intervene if the old-timer should attack the kitten.
Slowly, tentatively, Precious stretched until her mouth was at Stormy’s neck. Nixie prayed fervently that Precious wouldn’t do to the kitten what she had done to the chipmunk she’d caught last month.
When the yellow cat’s tongue darted out to sample the aromatic kitten, Nixie breathed a sigh of relief. Soon Precious was happily cleaning the sauce off of Stormy’s head, and Stormy was obviously enjoying the older cat’s rough massage. But after the sauce was gone, instinct took over, and Precious gave Stormy a thorough washing.
Nixie put her hands together, looked heavenward, and whispered a heartfelt “Thank you.”
Later, after she’d dressed for bed, she went looking for Stormy, hoping she wouldn’t have to lock him in the utility room again. After a thorough inspection of the house, she finally found him in Bethany’s room, snuggled on the ragged blanket that served as a bed for Precious. The older cat’s yellow paw lay draped across the tiny kitten as they slept.
