The One Safe Place. Kathleen O'Brien

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      “Please,” she called out again. “I don’t want you to get wet, too, Dr. Fairmont. We’re fine, really.”

      She was holding out her hand to stop him, and Reed realized he must have unconsciously taken another step toward her. He reined himself in with effort.

      She was right, of course. They were fine. Spencer had quickly caught the dog, who wriggled in his arms, ecstatically licking mud from his chin. Faith put her arm across the boy’s wet, bony shoulder and bent down, ignoring the water, to give him something that was a cross between a hug and a stern talking to.

      It was quite a scene, the two drenched and muddy creatures standing knee deep in water, their clothes ruined, their hair streaming in their faces. And all around them, the ducks paddled peacefully, staring straight ahead with stately boredom, as if, sadly, nothing interesting ever happened on their little pond.

      Just then, Justine appeared at Reed’s elbow, chewing on some spearmint-scented gum, her sleeping baby propped on her shoulder.

      “Wow,” she said without much inflection, scanning the weird tableau before them. “That half-drowned thing in the pond is your ‘fox’?”

      “No.” Reed shook his head slowly, and then, seeing that Faith’s minilecture was over, he began to move a little closer. Maybe he could just lend a hand, just make sure they could climb out without any further dunking.

      He glanced back at Justine briefly with a small smile. “Actually,” he said, “that’s my new housekeeper.”

      Justine stared a minute, and then she chuckled, stroking her baby’s cheek softly.

      “Wow,” she said again as she turned to go back into the clinic. “And I thought you were nuts for hiring me!”

      CHAPTER THREE

      FAITH HAD NEVER BEEN so humiliated in her life. What a great first impression! She couldn’t imagine what Reed Fairmont must think.

      She had to fight the urge to come staggering out of the pond, dripping mud all over everyone, and start compulsively overexplaining, overapologizing, overreacting.

      She hadn’t realized that Tigger was essentially being theatrical and never had any intention of massacring Dr. Fairmont’s ducks. Tigger wasn’t a bird dog. He was just a puppy with too much energy, but for a minute she’d forgotten that.

      And she hadn’t, of course, realized how shallow the pond was. She had been too focused on the fact that Spencer wasn’t a strong swimmer. He was just six years old, and if he’d slipped beneath the black-gold water, she might not have been able to find him in time.

      But, though these were good reasons, they weren’t the real reasons, and she knew it. The real reason Spencer had overreacted to the fear of losing Tigger, and the real reason she had been so afraid of losing Spencer, was simply that they had lost too much already.

      They weren’t like other people anymore. Their antennae were always subtly tuned to the disaster frequency. They had seen how swiftly tragedy could strike—even on a sunny summer morning, even in your own home, even while people were making peanut butter sandwiches—and that knowledge had changed them forever.

      But that wasn’t the kind of thing you walked right up to a total stranger and began explaining. “Hello, nice to meet you, sorry about the ducks, but you see my nephew and I have developed this disaster mentality.”

      Impossible. So instead she put her arm around Spencer’s shoulder and guided him toward the bank of the pond. She stroked his hair back from his forehead, and then did the same to her own. Her stitches hurt—she shouldn’t have let them get wet—but she ignored the pain.

      She summoned up all her dignity and looked at Reed Fairmont with her best imitation of a normal smile.

      “I’m so sorry,” she said. “We seem to have made a terrible mess.”

      The man in front of her smiled, too. It was such a warm, sympathetic smile that for a minute Faith thought maybe Reed Fairmont did understand everything. Maybe he knew about how fear seemed to follow them everywhere, even to Firefly Glen, how they heard its whisper in the song of the birds, in the rustle of the wind and the slither of the rain, and even in the kiss of the sunset.

      But that was ridiculous, of course. Reed was a doctor. That smile was probably just part of his reassuring bedside manner.

      “It’s no problem,” he said. “I’m just sorry you must be so uncomfortable.”

      Her next thought was that he was a surprisingly young, attractive man. If anything, even more attractive than the elegant Parker Tremaine. She looked from one man to the other curiously.

      Firefly Glen must have some kind of sex-appeal potion in its water.

      Detective Bentley had never said how old Dr. Fairmont was—just that he was the widowed veterinarian of this small mountain town. Faith’s imagination had summoned up a gray-haired, weather-beaten image, kind of a countrified Gregory Peck in half glasses and a lab coat, his trusty hound trotting at his heels.

      She couldn’t have been more wrong. No gray hair, no wrinkles, no reading glasses, no lab coat and no hound. Instead, the real Reed Fairmont was in his early thirties and good-looking enough to be an actor playing a country vet or a model posing for the cover of Adirondack Adventure.

      Six-foot-something, with broad shoulders, trim hips and muscles in all the right places. Longish, wavy brown hair with a healthy dose of highlights. And green eyes smiling out from a forest of thick lashes.

      He bent down and gave Tigger a pat. He smiled at Spencer. “Hi,” he said comfortably. “You’ve got a pretty great dog here.” Spencer just ducked his chin and stared down at Tigger.

      Reed didn’t seem to notice. He stood without comment and gave Faith another smile. “It’s getting chilly,” he said. “I bet you’d like to get out of those wet clothes.”

      She looked over at the house, which was gleaming now with lights in the encroaching dusk. Autumn House. It, too, had surprised her. Detective Bentley had reported that it was a large, wooden Adirondack cabin, but that simple description hadn’t begun to do it justice.

      Autumn House was huge, and as beautiful as the forest itself. It sprawled with a natural grace as far as the eye could see—here following the contours of a small silver creek, there wrapping around an ancient oak. The house rose three stories at its center, then sloped to two, then one, then tapered off to a long wooden boardwalk that eventually disappeared into the woods.

      It had huge picture windows that looked out onto the sunsets, and porches on all three floors. She felt sure that the place had been built as a haven, a place where terrible things wouldn’t dream of happening.

      If only that were true.

      “Tell you what,” Reed said, as if he had followed her longing gaze to the warm, lighted house. “Why don’t you let Parker take you up and show you where your rooms are? That way you can get a warm shower and change.”

      She longed to say yes. A warm shower sounded like heaven. But she looked down at Tigger, uncertain. “I think I’d better wash the puppy off first,” she said. “He’ll get mud all over your СКАЧАТЬ