Almost Home. Debbie Macomber

      I cried again—more tears! Why was I so emotional? Why such a wreck? But I loved Brenda! She was from my other life, and underneath the froufrou she was one of the most courageous people I knew. Without her laughter and friendship, my home life would have been even more unbearable. “She’s the best,” I wept out.

      And then I was facing him, tears swimming in my eyes, and he was brushing the tears off my face, his warmth seeping into my side, and I wanted to kiss him. I did. One time. One kiss. I leaned toward him. I closed my eyes and prepared for this dizzying passionate kiss with Prince Aiden. I waited a second, then two and whoosh. Cold air.

      When I opened my peepers, he was standing up by the picnic table, facing the ocean, running a hand through his hair.

      No no no no no, that voice in my head shrieked. Oh heck, no, say it isn’t so. Say you didn’t just do that!

      But I did! I had! Hell and tarnation, I had tried to kiss Aiden Bridger.

      I could not have been more humiliated if I’d stripped off my clothes in front of him and performed a Scottish Highlands dance followed by a double cartwheel.

      I wanted to die.

      I got up and jogged toward those monstrous dogs of mine, my mind drowning in embarrassment.

      I heard him call my name, but I kept on truckin’.

      I don’t know why I let Brenda talk me into it. I don’t know why Christie agreed so eagerly to do it, either. I may have mentioned: the three of us together are lethal.

      At ten o’clock that night, there we were, in one of the island’s lakes, naked, swimming around.

      “I want to live in this water,” Christie said. “For once I don’t feel as if I’m carrying around a Mack Truck in my gut.”

      “The freedom, the breathless freedom, the ultimate in liberation, right here, right now,” Brenda said.

      “Fat floats,” I said as I floated naked on my back and counted the stars, Aiden’s face next to every one of them. “I am such an idiot.”

      We did not drive with our shirts off through town after that, as previously suggested.

      “We’ll save that exciting event for later, Brenda,” I said.

      “Agreed,” she said. “We’ll bring Mrs. Zebra. She’s my favorite dog.”

      My sister moaned. “I’ll probably be nursing by then, so I’m gonna miss out! Why do I always miss out on all the fun?”

      “We have to stage a rescue.”

      I put my paintbrush down. I was drawing/painting Cassy Cat. Hard to do when all I could think about was my bumbling kiss-attack on the unsuspecting Aiden. I hot-flashed at the thought of it.

      Cassy Cat had white in her golden stripes and wore glasses and simple clothes. Even though she is running for president of her farm, she did not try to get all dressed up as the prissy goose did.

      “Gina, I cannot even think of rescuing a horse right now.” My cat Troublesome, old and creaky and missing a leg, settled on my feet.

      “It’ll take one night.” She pulled a purple flower from her hair and stuck it back in over her ear. “One night out of your life!”

      “I don’t even have a night.” I would be up all night, again. I hadn’t even been to bed yet, and it was eight in the morning.

      I rinsed out my brush, stood up, examined Cassy Cat. She had to be presidential, but not snobby. Smart but not superior. Fox was sticking his pointy nose in the picture, as if spying on her, his black tuxedo coat buttoned up tight.

      Had I really leaned in to kiss Aiden?

      “This is about reaching out to our fellow species! Grasping their humanity, their dignity! Haven’t you seen the horse?”

      “No, I haven’t.” I thought of my own Herbert Hoove the Horse. Herbert was humble and sweet and wore bow ties. I get letters from kids addressed to Herbert Hoove the Horse all the time.

      “Come and see him.”

      “No.” I would hide in my studio the rest of my life.

      “Yes. One peek. A tiny gander. You won’t be able to sleep at night once you’re introduced to Gordon. He’s depressed, he’s having anxiety issues, and he can’t sleep because he’s starving.”

      “Then Gordon and I have something in common, because I’m not sleeping much now, either.” I picked up Troublesome and dropped her on my lap. At least Troublesome hadn’t witnessed the kiss-attack.

      “Take a mental break. A break for Gordon. For a hairy old friend who whispered to me yesterday that he’s afraid he’s going to die and he has so much more he wants to do with his life!”

      Gina is very passionate about animals. Not only is she a pet communicator, she runs an animal sanctuary on the island. Her grandfather bought tons of land here decades ago, and she inherited it. In addition, she inherited money from her father, a megamillionaire software guy, so her full-time job was taking care of animals that had been used in medical experiments. The labs were actually giving her their animals when they were through with them, and a donation, on condition that she never reveal the status of their health when they arrived.

      “I have great fondness for hairy old friends, Gina, but right now I’m painting a cat who bears a sad resemblance to a sick porcupine, and I can’t stop.”

      She marched around my studio for a few minutes, her long hair swaying like a horse’s tail as she stared at my paintings. “Okay, Chalese. I’ll make you a deal.”

      “No deal.”

      “Listen up. If you go with me to take a gander, a peek at this starving, troubled, emotional horse, I’ll make you one of my frozen chocolate, flourless pies.”

      My paintbrush stopped in midair. “Really?”

      “Yes, really.”

      I’m a sucker for those pies. “How about two?”

      “Agreed. Two for the horse!”

      “Done. We’re on.”

      Who knew that a few days later I was going to end up with a horse in my dining room?

      Chapter Five

      “I’m so sorry, Aiden, so sorry. I should never have tried to kiss you.” I could hardly meet the man’s eyes as he stood on my front porch, my wind chimes tinkling in the afternoon wind.

      How do you explain to someone that your lust carried you away, and you could not resist them? “I am a clumsy elephant, a ridiculous, pathetic, cloistered writer. I don’t get out enough, I hot-flash, I talk to my dogs and half the time I expect them to answer back, I hang out with Brenda, who is so wild and—”

      He held a hand up. “Chalese”—his voice was a bit strangled—“please don’t apologize. Please don’t. I mean it. I was flattered, I was. But … this is my job. You’re my job.”

      “Absolutely. I know it. The ox in me will never charge at you again.” I slapped my hands to my face. Why must I speak about animals so much?

      He took three steps closer to me. “You’re very … engaging. You’ve got this curious, electric aura about you, this mystery, but at the same time you’re so open about who you are and sincere. And you’re so smart. I can almost hear your brain ticking away a million miles an hour.” He rubbed his neck. “But this is not the time or the place for me to …” He coughed. “To return your … kiss.”

      Clearly, it wasn’t, that voice in my head assailed me. He-man Aiden would not ever want to return your … kiss. He was trying to alleviate my total humiliation because he was a nice guy, then smooth things over so he could write the article without me making any