To Save a King, page 11
Imani suddenly found her voice. “Oh my gosh. W-what are you doing in dumpy Hearts Bend?”
“Having a bit of a holiday. Your town reminds me of some of my favorite places in Lauchtenland.” He went on to describe the Midlands and Dalholm, even the north country of The Haskells. The girls asked intelligent questions, recalling their history and geography. Gemma was quite proud. And just like that, the prince became a real man and stole their hearts. The girls’, of course, not hers.
Then Imani got to the important topic. Pop popcorn and a movie. “Can Penny stay over, Gemma?”
“Don’t see why not. But you have chores in the morning before basketball camp.” She glanced at the prince, who smirked like he enjoyed her role of mother. “Speaking of, how was the fundraiser?”
“Good. We’re going to hold the rummage sale at the end of the month. I’m going to go through all those boxes in the attic. Maybe the former owners left some treasure.”
“More than likely you’ll be throwing all the stuff away.” But Gemma could check “clean out the attic” off her long to-do list.
“Oh, and I got a job,” Imani said, searching the cupboards for popcorn. “Ella’s Diner. Tina needed someone a couple nights a week. It’s okay, isn’t it? I’ll try to work around feeding the herd.”
“I can help.” Everyone turned to the prince. “I mean, if you need any.”
“Wow, really?” Imani threw her arms around him as if she’d known him her whole life. Penny, still giggling, hunched her shoulders, shrinking as low as she could. Tall-girl syndrome.
Then it was discovered there was no popcorn, so the girls decided to run to the corner store for snacks.
“She’s lovely, Gemma,” John said when they were alone again. “What’s her story?”
“Too long and sad for someone her age. And, Prince, you don’t have to help me with the chores. You didn’t come all the way—”
The back door rattled with a knock, then opened. She expected to see Justin—he was never far behind the girls, especially Imani—but Doc Goodwin, the old town vet, stepped inside.
“Can I interrupt?”
“Certainly. Come in.” Gemma hopped up, pulled out a chair for him to sit, and offered him a cup of coffee, which he gladly accepted. “What can I do for you?”
She squirted some dish soap on a cloth and washed one of the china cups.
“I need you on the porch.” He peered over the rim of his wire glasses, his tattered straw hat listing left atop his thinning, gray hair. Around his middle, a worn leather belt cinched a pair of stained, threadbare trousers. “The Cranes’ collie retriever was hit by a car. A beautiful dog. Such a tragedy. I’m not sure they’ll get over it. Can’t figure for the life of me why a new mama would be out wandering around except to do her business. My guess is Rolf hit her when he came home last night from billiards. I told him a hundred times he’s blind as a bat on top of the fact he can barely see over the dash of that big car of his. Of course, I didn’t say any of this to them. They were heartbroken enough.” He finally noticed the prince. “How do? Doc Goodwin. I’d shake your hand but mine ain’t clean.”
“No worry, mate.” The prince offered his hand and after a moment, the doc took it. “John Blue.”
“John Blue, eh? I know who you are, and far be it from an old coot like me to pass up a handshake with a real prince. I’ll be.” He chuckled as he reached for his coffee. “Maggie left six puppies behind. Three days old and orphaned. Eyes ain’t even open. Come, Lord Jesus.”
“Six…oh, Doc.”
“I told Rolf and Shelia to get her fixed, but they insisted Maggie was safe, never wandered off the property.” The doc took a gulp from the cup and motioned for Gemma to step outside. “Flip on the light, will you?”
In a large box, six black-brown-and-white collie-mix puppies squeaked and squirmed. “I brought formula and a list of what you got to do. It’ll be all hands to the pump for a few weeks, but ain’t they the sweetest things?”
“All hands to the pump? What? Doc, I can’t take these puppies. I don’t know anything about caring for them. And I have a job.”
“True enough.” He reached around to his back pocket and produced a folded paper. “Here’s the list. Just do what it tells you. It’ll be tough at first because they’ll need watching twenty-four seven. But things will ease up in a few weeks.”
“Doc, you heard me. I have a job. In fact, one-and-a-half jobs. Can’t the Cranes take care of them? They lost Maggie but gained six of her puppies.”
“Did you hear what I said? I think Rolf ran Maggie over. I can’t trust them with these precious ones.” Doc grunted as he pushed his hat back. “Rolf is eighty-five going on a hundred, and Shelia can’t bend down to tie her shoelaces. Now, the heat lamp, bottles, and formula are in my car. Where are you going to keep the pups? I think the barn is good. Set up a nice bed of hay and blankets in one of the stalls. You think your pack of five will be okay?” He reached down to tap Blue on the head. “How do, sir?”
“Yeah, I think so. But Doc, I can’t…”
He set his cup on the narrow porch railing and headed for his car. Gemma grabbed the cup—the railing was too precarious—and ran after him.
“I’m serious. You can’t leave them here. I’m putting my foot down.”
Meanwhile, the prince cradled one of the puppies against his chest. Not helping.
“You’re my last hope, Gemma. I called several other places but I didn’t like the sound of their voices.”
“Who cares about the sound of their voice if they have the heart and people to do the job.”
“You can tell a lot by a voice. Take the prince here. Just in his hello I knew he was a decent, stand-up fella. I’m convinced you’re the one to mother these babies. I may be an old country vet, but I have a gut feeling about these things. Something, or Someone, told me to bring these babies to you. So here I am.”
A tender puppy-cry rose from the box and Gemma glanced back, feeling herself crumble. I don’t have time for this.
Then John changed everything. “I’ll do it. Gus and I took care of newborns one summer at Hadsby. The gardener’s dog birthed her whelps in one of the mews’ stalls.”
“John, no, you’re on holiday. I’m sure I can get on the phone and find folks to help.”
“What sort of prince would I be if I left my friend and her new charges to flounder when I’ve nowhere to be and nothing to do.” John picked up the box. “Worry not, loves, I’ll take care of you. Shall we?” He stepped off the porch and paused by Gemma. “The sooner we get them settled and fed the better.”
“Look there, you got an expert,” Doc said. “I’ll carry the heat lamp. Gemma, you get the formula.”
Imani and Penny returned, jumping from the car, curious as to the contents in the box, squealing to see the puppies. Well that was it. Gemma would never rid herself of this chore now.
They were very sweet and so helpless, but she had a job. Not to mention, very limited funds.
Since there was no use fighting it, Gemma launched into director mode—her endgame in Hollywood was to direct. Act for fifteen or twenty years all the while slowly move behind the camera.
“Imani, Penny,” she said. “Help Doc and carry the formula while John and I set up one of the stalls.”
The commotion alerted the rest of the dogs and they charged out of the house. When the screen door didn’t close all the way, Barksy knew how to push it open.
“Last stall on the left, Prince.” The other three belonged to Herc, Whinny, and Silver, even though they lived outside most of the time.
She went to the loft for hay and the old quilts folded in the corner. She’d just decided to get rid of them last week but now they were perfect for her new rescues.
When the puppy bed had been made and lined with the soft, worn cotton of the quilts, Doc clapped John on the shoulder.
“I’ll leave it to you, Your Highness. Much obliged. Feed them and keep them warm,” Doc said as he exited the barn. “That’s all you got to do. Oh, and wash their privates to get that business going. And weigh them every day. Make sure they’re gaining weight. You got a scale? Yeah, you do, I see it. I’ll check on you in a couple of days. Call if you need me.”
With that, everyone got to work. Positioning the heat lamp, making the formula, keeping the puppies warm.
Blue and Tweedy insisted on inspecting the babies, but Gemma had Imani take all of the dogs back to the house. They were sweet, but three had been fighters. Best to introduce new dogs gradually. Now Tweedy, being a collie, an old collie but still a collie, might step up as a surrogate mama.
Sitting against the wall, she and John cradled the puppies until Imani and Penny arrived with the bottles. Then the little beggars slurped and drank, pushing their wee paws against the bottles and the hands that fed them.
Then, miraculously, they slept.
“Let’s cuddle them in the center of the bed,” John said. “They can keep each other warm, but we’ll need to stay with them.”
When the puppies were settled, the girls excused themselves to their movie.
“Now what?” Gemma said, lying on her side, her hand over three of the little guys. “Are you sure you want to do this, Prince?”
“I don’t have to be anywhere.” His voice was gentle and the light in his eyes sincere. “We’ll need to feed them in a few hours. Let’s talk about a schedule.”
Gemma got up for the doc’s printout and found her old carpenter’s pencil on the workbench.
“What time do you have to be at work?” he said.
“It’s flexible but I like to be there by nine. Wednesday I have to be at the wedding chapel at eight for a photo shoot.”
The prince looked at his watch. “It’s almost midnight now. Let’s set up a three-hour feeding schedule. Midnight, three, six, nine, noon, three, six, nine, midnight.”
“We can take shifts. Between you, me and Imani, and maybe Penny, we can care for six newborns, right?”
Whinny peered around the open stall, raised her nose, and pawed the stone floor once.
“We’ll take care of them, Whinny,” Gemma said. “Don’t worry.”
With a short snicker, the thoroughbred left the barn, and Gemma heard her hoofs striking the summer ground as she galloped away.
“Remind me of that moment when I’m cranky and tired.” Gemma returned the pencil and schedule to the worktable, then went back to the puppy bed.
“All right, I will.” His tone gave her pause. There was no contradiction. No hesitation. No “Ha ha, I won’t know you when you’re old.” And the desire to know him gripped her. But she fought it because longing for the impossible was a weakness of dreamers. “You’ve given Whinny freedom, Gemma. Restored her spirit.”
“I’m not sure I have that kind of power, but one thing I do know, they’ve restored me.”
“Are there any more blankets?” John said. “The hay isn’t the softest bed.”
“Plenty. Whoever lived here before left almost everything behind.” Gemma texted Imani to bring out more blankets and pillows. The prince made a bed on the right side of the sleeping dogs and Gemma the left.
She set an alarm for midnight while John texted Gunner, who’d gone back to the guest house, and Buck, letting them know his plan for the evening. Gunner replied he was on his way. He’d sleep in the car.
“He can sleep in the house if he wants. Or in here. The car doesn’t sound comfy.”
“He’s former special services. He can sleep anywhere. The car will suit. Gunner’s a good PO, he gives me my space and privacy. Though he was really nervous when I sent him home while you were in the convenience store.”
“I understand he’s not really a friend or companion, but isn’t it nice to know someone has your back?”
“Do you want someone to have your back, Gemma?”
There, he did it again. Keyed in on what she thought was a throwaway comment. “I thought I did once. But turns out he didn’t.”
“You have your family, your friends. Buck and JoJo, Haley.”
“You’re right, of course, yes, and that’s why I’ll spend the rest of my life in Hearts Bend.”
“You could do worse,” John said with a fun lilt in his voice, stretching out, hands locked behind his head.
“Yes, I could do worse.” Much worse. She knew because she’d already been down that road and somehow managed to live to tell.
“Prince Gus and Princess Daffy on a walking tour of The Haskells winery. The princess showed off her baby bump while sipping sparkling water.”
— Loyal Royals Blog
Remembering Princess Holland documentary to air the evening of her memorial, August 31st, 8:00 p.m. on LTV-1.
— Princess Holland Blog
“Hamish Fickle joins us tomorrow morning to discuss the sale of the Midlands property and to talk about the prince’s investiture. Should he have to marry to take his oath? Plus, we’ll challenge the young MP to a game of Lauchtenland trivia.”
— Melissa Faris, Royal Reporter, the Morning Show
“The Chamber Office confirmed Dr. Ritter’s visit to the palace. ‘She’s had a touch of the flu. She’ll be fighting fit in a day or two,’ he said. We’re looking forward to seeing her at the Yacht Races during the August Renaissance. Back to you, Estelle.”
— Perry Copperfield, Cable News PF
Any update on Prince John and the girl he was carrying? My sources tell me it was nothing. A fair in some country. Maybe America?
— @RoyalFan on Instagram
Chapter Eleven
John
His phone startled him awake, ringing and rudely pulling him away from Holland with whom he snuggled, his arm wrapped about her waist, the feel and fragrance of her skin filling his senses.
He wanted to stay asleep, spooned with his wife, but his phone rudely beckoned. Fumbling through his bedding and bits of straw—straw?—he answered with a guttural, whispered, “What is it?”
He ran his hand over his rumpled hair and caught a piece of straw. Why did he have straw in his hair?
“Son? John?”
“Dad, hello.” His father’s voice startled him and awoke him into the present. On his feet now, John squinted through the morning sun beaming through a high, square barn window.
The barn. Hearts Bend. Puppies. Gemma. His heart plummeted. He wasn’t at home with Holland. She was still dead and he, very much alive, hugging an armload of hay wrapped in an old quilt.
“Did I wake you?” Dad said. “I tried not to call too early. How’s your holiday?”
“No, I’m awake.” Now. “Is everything all right?” John stepped from the puppy stall into the much cooler center aisle and pulled his sweat-dampened T-shirt from his warm skin.
“Well, I wanted to let you know before you read it online. Mum’s in the hospital for a few days. She went in yesterday but Dr. Ritter wants to hold her for testing. She protested, but her royal powers did not prevail.”
“Testing? Why? What’s the matter? Should I come?” Mum, the queen, never fell ill. She claimed no sickness or disease would dare. A cough or sniffle, headache, or any sort of ache was dismissed as “nothing.”
“No, stay. It cheers her to know you’re away, enjoying yourself, meeting Scottie. I’ll keep you informed. She is rather eager for an update however.”
“What is her illness? I thought she had a cold.”
“They thought it was the flu, but she’s very weak in her limbs, and tired. This morning she was having trouble breathing.”
“Are you sure I shouldn’t be there?” John tried to picture his mother in a hospital bed but the image was incongruent with every memory he held dear. As for protesting? She must be frustrated to find her skilled, articulate objections were like boxing the air.
“No, stay.”
“Give her my love.”
“I will. How did it go with Scottie?”
“Well enough. She’s as formidable as Mum.”
“I’m not surprised. Is she agreeable to a meeting?”
“Not really. She claims she’s an O’Shay and while she appreciates knowing the truth, she’s not very keen to meet Mum. Or any of us. I’m ringing her for coffee later in the week so perhaps she’ll sing a different tune now she’s had time to think on it. She’d just arrived from Guatemala when we met, and my guess is she felt ambushed.” The sunlight filling and warming the barn, and flooding the floor beneath John’s feet, faded behind a cloud. “In all truth, Mum may have to come here. Make the first move.”
“I’ve told her this several times. She’s convinced Scottie will reject her, I think.”
“Even a queen must battle human fears. Anyway, I’m here for a few more weeks. I’ll keep trying.”
“One more thing. I assume you’ve seen the viral posts? With the lass in your arms? Who is she?”
John glanced down at Gemma still sleeping on a bed of hay clutching her pillow, her cover tossed aside, a light perspiration glistening on her face. Her left hand rested on three of the puppies. “A friend.”
“Does she have a name?”
“You mean you don’t know?” HMSD usually knew everything about a newcomer to the royal Family before they did. “Gemma Stone. JoJo paired us in a three-legged race during the Fourth of July celebration. We tripped, fell, lost the race, but decided to finish anyway.”
“You’d tell me if there was anything more, wouldn’t you? If not me, your brother?”
“Like what? Dad, I’ve known her all of a week. Ten days. What’s to know? That I’m falling in love? I’ve no plans to move on with anyone for a very long time. Holland is a very difficult act to follow.”
For the first time since he’d met her, he felt as if he were merely willing his comment to be true.
“But not impossible.” Dad’s admonition irritated him.
“Easy to say when you’re on the outside.”
“Don’t use pain as a fortress, John. Don’t think no one knows what you’re going through and that you’re some sort of romantic martyr.”
