The Prodigal's Christmas Reunion. Kathryn Springer

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      Chapter Two

      “Easy girl.” Erin ran a soothing hand over the flank of the mare stretched out on the floor of the stall. “Hang in there and you’ll be a momma in no time.”

       The horse thrashed weakly in response to the sound of her voice, and Erin felt needle-sharp tears poke at the back of her eyes.

       Where was Tweed?

       She’d put in an emergency call to the local large animal vet over an hour ago.

       Maybe she’d been running away at the time, but Erin was glad she’d left the café early because the moment she’d arrived home from work, she’d known something was wrong. Winston, her corgi, had been standing at the door of the barn instead of ambling down to the mailbox to greet her the way he usually did.

       Erin had discovered Diamond lying down in the stall, already in the throes of what looked as if it were going to be a long and difficult labor.

       The blue roan was Erin’s first rescue. She’d attended an auction one summer afternoon and spotted the horse tied to the back of a rusty trailer, half-starved and abused. One look into those sorrowful, liquid brown eyes and she couldn’t walk away. No one had bothered to mention the mare was expecting.

       Even with a good diet, a warm place to sleep and daily doses of tender loving care, Diamond had been slow to regain her strength. Erin had been afraid all along that the horse wouldn’t be able to handle a difficult birth. She’d shared her concern with Dr. “Tweed” Brighton, who’d promised to help deliver the foal if necessary.

       If only she could get in touch with him.

       A plaintive whinny split the air and Erin placed a comforting hand on the mare’s belly.

       “Not much longer now,” she whispered, hoping it was the truth.

       As the minutes ticked by, helplessness and frustration battled for control of Erin’s emotions, swept along on a tide of “what ifs.” What if she’d become a veterinarian instead of taking over the café from her mother? What if she hadn’t chosen duty to her family over her dreams?

       Then she would be able to offer something more than simple comfort or encouraging words as Diamond struggled to bring her foal into the world.

       A ribbon of wind unfurled through the barn, carrying the sweet scent of pine and new-fallen snow. Erin’s knees went weak with relief when she heard the soft tread of footsteps coming closer.

       The stall door slid open behind her.

       “Thank goodness you’re here, Tweed,” Erin said without turning around. “She’s in a lot of pain but nothing seems to be happening.”

       Instead of a response marked by a crisp British accent, something the veterinarian wore as proudly as he did the tweed cap that had earned him his nickname, there was silence.

       Erin shifted her weight and glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze locked on a pair of snow-covered hiking boots and traveled up. Over long legs encased in faded jeans. A flannel lined jacket. Broad shoulders. Sun-streaked blond hair. Chiseled features that formed the perfect setting for a pair of denim-blue eyes.

       Lucas Clayton’s eyes.

       Lucas blinked several times, but the young woman kneeling in the straw didn’t disappear.

       And she looked just as shocked to see him.

       The years melted away, burning through the layers of defenses Lucas had built up until all that remained were memories.

       Memories of the one person who’d never stopped believing in him at a time in his life when Lucas had stopped believing in everything.

       When Tweed had sent him on an emergency call, Lucas had only been given the address—not the name—of the person who needed help with a pregnant mare.

       Erin Fields’s unexpected presence not only stirred up emotions Lucas had buried long ago, but also created a few new ones.

       The image frozen in his mind had been that of an eighteen-year-old girl. This Erin looked the same…but different.

       The knee-length corduroy coat didn’t quite conceal her willowy frame, but the sprinkle of ginger-colored freckles he’d often teased her about had faded. Windswept tendrils of copper hair framed features that had matured from a wholesome prettiness into a delicate, heart-stopping beauty.

       He knew Erin hadn’t left Clayton, but she wasn’t supposed to be here. Inside an old barn adjacent to a dilapidated farmhouse a few miles outside of town. They’d both grown up in Clayton—their houses СКАЧАТЬ