That Runaway Summer. Darlene Gardner

JILL! WHERE ARE YOU?” Chris barreled into a kitchen that smelled of the pot roast and mashed potatoes Felicia had served for dinner that evening.

      He skidded to a stop beside the table, interrupting Jill’s latest stab at convincing Felicia Feldman she had no intention of seeing Dan Maguire again, kiss or no kiss.

      Both Jill and Felicia set down their coffee mugs.

      “Come quick!” Her brother’s thin chest heaved up and down. His breathing was ragged, his face red.

      “Tell me what’s wrong, Chris.” Jill’s heartbeat accelerated, her mind conjuring up all sorts of reasons for his behavior.

      Foremost among them was the fear that the private eye had found them.

      “Just come.” He grabbed her hand and gave a tug that was surprisingly effective given he was only three or four inches over four feet tall and weighed about sixty pounds. He headed for the back door, practically dragging her with him.

      Felicia followed, the landlady’s complexion almost as gray as her hair.

      “Are you okay, Chris?” Felicia’s voice trailed them down the back porch’s wooden steps and past the row of azaleas to the patch of woods behind the house. Dusk had fallen, muting the colors of the flowers and lending the early evening a murky quality.

      “I’m okay,” Chris answered, then said in a voice only loud enough for Jill to hear. “He’s not.”

      “Who’s not okay?” Jill demanded.

      “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Chris muttered, then broke into a run before Jill could refute him. Not that she didn’t realize Chris had a habit of stretching the truth. She just didn’t believe he lied about important things.

      His desperation told her this was something important.

      Imagining someone in distress, Jill kept up with him even as the muscles in her legs protested. She felt every inch of the twenty-mile mountain-bike trek she’d taken that morning, but she kept going. At least she’d had the presence of mind to grab her cell phone. She could dial 911.

      Chris took a shortcut through some tall pines to reach one of the walking trails a local hiking group maintained. She allowed Chris to venture into the woods as long as it was light out and he stayed close to home.

      The past few nights he’d been eager to go outside after dinner, hoping to catch a glimpse of the family of deer that sometimes appeared at dusk. He’d vowed to find out where they lived.

      Had he stumbled across something while following the deer?

      “There!” He broke into a run down the narrow trail, his thin arms and legs moving faster than she’d ever seen them.

      Jill squinted, and her breath clogged her throat. Something small that she couldn’t quite make out was lying just off the path. Oh please, she prayed, don’t let it be a child.

      She increased her pace, getting a clearer view as she came nearer. No. It definitely wasn’t human. Chris crouched next to an animal of some sort. Light caramel in color, it had four legs, yet its body was too thick to be a fawn.

      Was it a stray dog? She immediately thought rabies and had opened her mouth to shout a warning when she heard a…bleat?

      The sound came again. Yes, it was definitely a bleat.

      “Why, that’s not a dog.” Jill reached her brother’s side and examined the animal’s long droopy ears and short, wide face. “It’s a goat.”

      “A baby goat.” Chris smoothed his hand over the animal’s coat in a rhythmic, calming motion. “That’s why I said you wouldn’t believe me. Something’s wrong with him.”

      The goat was injured, not sick. Blood matted its coat and it held one of its legs stiffly. She heard the faint roar of a motorcycle engine, a reminder that this section of woods adjoined the two-lane thoroughfare leading to and from downtown Indigo Springs.

      “The poor thing. It looks like he might’ve been hit by a car.” The goat could have limped into the woods before it collapsed. But where had it come from? Farms dotted the countryside, but she didn’t know of one nearby. “I think his back leg is broken.”

      “We need to take him to a vet!” Chris cried.

      Although the goat measured about two and a half feet from head to hooves, it had a thick, muscular body and probably weighed thirty pounds.

      “He’s too big to carry,” she said.

      The animal made a soft, keening sound that tore at Jill.

      “Somebody has to help him!” Chris sounded close to tears, stabbing at Jill’s heart. On the other hand, she wasn’t surprised. Her brother cried while watching lions attack their prey on the National Geographic channel.

      Jill placed her hand on her brother’s back, feeling his body trembling. “I didn’t say we wouldn’t help him, honey. Only that we can’t move him.”

      “Then what are we going to do?” Chris wailed.

      Jill quickly ran over options in her mind. She could phone a veterinarian, except nightfall was quickly approaching and she didn’t know how late vets worked or whether they took after-hour calls.

      Or she could fetch one.

      “I know of someone who can help.” She handed her brother her cell phone. “Stay here and I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

      She took off at a trot, hardly noticing the leaves and small twigs that slapped at her arms and legs. She did, however, recognize the irony in the situation.

      She was running toward the one man from whom she should stay far away.

      DAN’S FIRST INDICATION that this wouldn’t be an ordinary Tuesday night came when the dogs who’d settled in to watch him fix the kitchen cabinet leaped to their feet and broke into loud barking.

      Starsky and Hutch raced for the door, their paws sliding over the hardwood floor.

      Dan rose slowly, reluctant to abandon the job he’d finally gotten around to tackling. Almost a year after he’d moved into the small, two-bedroom house, the cabinet was still coming off its hinges.

      “Starsky! Hutch! Quiet!” he commanded.

      The two mixed-breed dogs kept barking, completely in disregard of the fact that he was a vet with a reputation to uphold.

      “You’re going to give me a bad name,” Dan told the dogs as he nudged past them to the door. Their tails wagged in double time while they panted with undisguised anticipation. “It’s also uncool to give the impression that nobody ever visits us.”

      Starsky barked, almost as if to say they hardly ever did get visitors.

      “Point taken, smart aleck,” Dan muttered, then swung open the door to a surprise.

      “I’m sorry to stop by like this,” Jill said in a rush, “but I need you.”

      The last three words could have been straight out of his fantasies if the delivery had been different. She was out of breath. A slight sheen of perspiration dampened her brow and her curly hair was disheveled.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked.

      “There’s a goat in the woods. I think its leg is broken.”

      “A goat?” The dogs were barking enthusiastically. Dan positioned his body so they couldn’t get out of the house and lick her to death.

      “The poor thing could really use your help.” Her expression was pleading, as though she feared he might say no. Even if he were capable of turning away from an animal, no way could he refuse Jill.

      “Sure.” He regained his equilibrium, his mind racing as he thought about what he needed to do. “Just give me a minute to gather some supplies. You can wait