Home on the Ranch 47 - Tina Radcliffe Read online

  “Skirting round the question?”

  She sighed in response.

  “If you won’t tell me who it is, how can I break his nose for you?”

  “I’m being serious, Will.”

  “So am I,” he said, creasing the paper in his hand. “What is that you keep playing with?” Annoyance laced her voice as she snatched the note from his fingers.

  “Phone message.”

  “For me?” She unfolded the paper. “I can barely read this. Do you think you wrinkled it enough?”

  “It’s from that medical missions program.”

  “Yes, I can see that.”

  “They sure call awfully late.”

  “For goodness’ sake, they’re in another time zone.” She pointed to the faded numbers scrawled on the paper. “Is that a two?”

  “I guess. You’re not thinking of going again, are you?”

  “I’m too tired to think, period.”

  “Annie, you’re sidestepping me. The guy who called last week mentioned Mexico.”

  “You never told me they called last week.”

  “You never said anything about Mexico.”

  “Don’t change the subject, Will.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I sort of forgot. His name was Martin or…” Will tapped his fingers on the table trying to remember the guy’s name.

  “Morrow?”

  “Yeah. That’s him. He mentioned your paperwork for Mexico had been mailed.”

  “Mexico had been planned long before my…before the accident.”

  “You were going from Africa straight to Mexico?”

  “They were tentative plans.”

  “And now?”

  She stared at him, bold and unapologetic. “What do you want me to say, Will?”

  “You can’t be thinking of leaving so soon. Your leg—”

  “My leg is fine. Rose’s doctor looked at it Thursday. And I have an appointment coming up with my doctor in a week.”

  “What about Rose’s therapy?”

  “She’s progressing well ahead of schedule.”

  “Doesn’t make much sense to me. Your trunk just arrived Friday and now you’re going to send it right back?”

  She didn’t answer, her dark eyes focused somewhere besides here and now.

  “Hey.” Will snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Are you listening to me?”

  “I am,” she answered, her gaze meeting his again.

  “Are you going to answer the question?” he persisted, suddenly annoyed.

  “What exactly is the question, Will?”

  “Annie,” he said softly, “are you leaving?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When they call back, what will you say?”

  “How can I answer that honestly?” Her hands opened and closed in obvious frustration.

  Without thinking, he reached out and stopped the agitated movement. His large hand held her small one, and it fit perfectly. He stared into her dark eyes, lost for a moment. “I can give you a million reasons why you should stay.”

  She exhaled the breath, and Will caught a glimpse of sadness in her eyes before she shook her head and stared down at the paper.

  Had he imagined her whispered words?

  “Yes, but not the right one.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Will, there’s a delivery truck blocking the driveway. Ellen can’t get out,” Rose called into the house through the screen door.

  “Be right there.” He left the table, lunch uneaten, and grabbed a ball cap before heading out the door.

  “What about your sandwich?” Annie said.

  His cell phone ringing prevented a response. “Sullivan Ranch.” The screen slammed shut behind him as he jogged down the drive. “I don’t have a calendar in front of me. Could I call you back in about ten minutes? Sure. Thanks.”

  With any luck the delivery was the refrigerator and freezer he’d ordered for the barn, which was supposed to have arrived yesterday.

  “Sorry, Ellen,” he said, as he passed Rose’s sister in her ancient tan Buick.

  The white truck at the end of the drive had Wilson Wholesale Meats in large letters on the side. Will gritted his teeth. The meat was early, the freezer was late.

  “I’ve got fifty pounds of frankfurters for Sullivan,” the driver called with a wave of his clipboard.

  “I’m Sullivan. I need the boxes delivered to the front door.”

  “Can’t get up the driveway, and I sure ain’t rolling my dolly all the way up there over that pea gravel.”

  “Let the Buick out and you can get in.”

  “Will,” Annie called from the house, “Ed Reilly is on the phone.”

  “Have him call my cell, please.”

  “I told him that already, but apparently he still can’t get through.”

  Will stopped at Ellen’s car. “Okay. He’s backing out for you.”

  “Thank you, Will. Say, when is that secondary driveway going to be done?”

  Will glanced at the sky. “We were rained out yesterday. Weather permitting, they’re going to attempt to pour concrete again tomorrow.”

  “There’s a relief. Another brilliant Annie idea, wasn’t that?”

  “Sure was.”

  “You best not let that gal go. Sullivan Ranch needs her.”

  “You’re right, Ellen.” He gave the hood of the Buick a friendly thump before he went back to the house.

  Rose sat on the porch with her walker and watched as he took the steps two at a time. She looked up from her crocheting. “Chris stopped by. Said that new vet called. He’s coming out tomorrow. Chris will be with him, to show him around the stable and introduce him to Okie.”

  “Thanks, Rose.”

  “Oh, and Pastor Jameson wants to know why you aren’t signed up for the men’s breakfast next month.”

  “I don’t think I’ve got breakfast or lunch penciled in for the rest of this year.”

  “Will.”

  “Kidding, Rose. I’ll call him—later. Much later.”

  In the kitchen he caught Annie. “Can you do me a couple of favors?”

  “You mean a couple more, right?” She grinned. “Sure, boss.”

  “Funny.”

  She reached for a pencil and notebook from the table, a comically eager expression on her face. Will paused for a moment and chuckled. “I’m glad you can see the humor in this.”

  “Ease up, boss. Everything will work out. One way or another. Now what can I do to help?”

  “Could you put the meat in the fridge when they get to the door? Please. And could you make a few calls? Track down the freezer and refrigerator.” He pulled a yellow receipt out of his wallet and handed it to her.

  “I can handle that. What else, boss?”

  Will narrowed his eyes. She was enjoying this way too much. “I’ve got a few reservations that need to be confirmed. Everything is in that black binder on my desk, highlighted in yellow. All you have to do is call the contact person and review the information. Jot down who you spoke with and the date and time in the notebook.”

  “Okay, sounds easy enough.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I do need to put you on the payroll.”

  “Let’s not go overboard. I think a few trips to the mall should be plenty of compensation.”

  “Deal. Let me take care of Ed and I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure.”

  Will strode into his office and picked up the headset and depressed the speakerphone button. “Ed, sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “Will, how are you?”

  “Busy, real busy.” Will grabbed a stack of unopened mail and began to slice open the envelopes.

  “So my wife tells me. Sure you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew?”

  “Busy is a good thing, Ed.”

  Ed chuckled. “Did a follow-up on your first two programs and we have satisfied customers. They’ll be calling us again in the fall.”

  “Glad to hear that.”

&n
bsp; “So tell me more about the catering.”

  “I used the catering company Margaret suggested for the first projects but I’m doing things myself for the smaller programs.”

  “How are you managing that?”

  “Remodeling the old barn. Have freezers and a refrigerator on order. Working on permits now.”

  “The thing is, Will, I like to support my vendors. They in turn support KidCare.”

  “I understand that, Ed. But my contract with KidCare doesn’t specify which vendors I utilize. I take your recommendations out of respect for your knowledge of this business. You’re the pro. I’m the new guy. But when I can come up with a better idea, I have to give it a shot.”

  Annie appeared at the door of the office, a pained expression on her face.

  “Ed, I really have to go.”

  “We can finish this later,” Ed agreed. “Can you stop by the house tomorrow evening?”

  Will leaned back in his chair. Just what he needed. Another meeting. “Sure, Ed. I’ll see you then.”

  Will pressed the disconnect button and tossed the letters in his hand on the growing pile. He looked at Annie.

  “Where am I going to put all that meat?” she asked.

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “Will, there isn’t room.”

  “Any luck tracking down the refrigerator and freezer?”

  “The manager says his men got lost yesterday. He promised delivery by the end of the day.”

  “Call the Dearbornes. They’ve got a huge freezer they use for venison. See if they can help us out for a few hours. I’ll have Chris run it over.”

  Annie left the room, shaking her head and muttering.

  Will sat back down in his chair and ran a hand over his jaw. There were bills to be paid, the business checkbook to balance, receipts and invoices to log in. Reservation requests to respond to. Even the web page was becoming a nemesis, with dozens of email queries in his in-box.

  His to-do list was becoming endless. He was seriously drowning in details. Going under fast without a life jacket.

  His body began to shake and a cold chill passed over him.

  “Something is not right,” he whispered, as once again his hands trembled.

  Reaching over to his desk drawer he pulled out his wallet and removed a faded white business card: Dr. Thomas Nolan—Neurologist.

  “Blood pressure’s a little high, but you always get whitecoat syndrome as I recall.” Dr. Nolan glanced from Will to the chart in his hands.

  “I’m having symptoms of the disease.” The words tumbled from Will’s mouth. Just saying them provided a measure of relief.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Tremors, irritability, memory problems. And insomnia. I don’t think I’ve had a full night’s sleep in weeks.” Will looked around the neurologist’s office, taking in first the certificates on the wall, then pictures of a doting family on a bookshelf. A wife and three children.

  “Son, generally I’d say you’re too young for symptoms. Your father didn’t have early onset, so I doubt if you will.”

  “And that means?”

  “It means if you have the disease I don’t expect to see indications at earliest until you are in your late thirties, early forties.”

  “So I have another ten years before my life is over?”

  Dr. Nolan cleared his throat. “There are medications for the chorea symptoms, when and if you need them.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I hear. Drugs for the tics. Drugs for the depression. Drugs for the memory. Plenty of drugs. I’m starting to understand my father a little better.” Will fiddled with his hat resting on his lap. His gaze met the physician’s. “So why am I having the shakes?”

  “You blood work indicates low blood sugar. Are you on any medications that I’m not aware of?”

  “No.”

  “Do you eat three balanced meals?”

  Will shrugged. He wished his life was that simple. “When I remember.”

  “Start remembering. You’re going to have to monitor your intake. Smaller meals more frequently to keep those levels stable. Keep a juice box at your bedside for when you wake up. A lot of people have low blood sugar. It’s easily regulated. Keep yourself hydrated. Drink plenty of water while you’re working at the ranch, especially now that hot weather is on the way.”

  Will nodded.

  “I’m sending you down the hall for a session with a dietician. Takes about an hour. She happened to have a cancellation, so this is your lucky day.”

  “Think so?”

  “Yes. She’ll give you a little snack so you don’t pass out on your way home.”

  “Thanks. But what about the insomnia?”

  “Have you been under more stress than usual lately?”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” Will laughed. “Doing my best to save the ranch.”

  “That’s enough to keep anyone awake at night. Hard to stop the cycle once it starts.”

  Will shot him a questioning glance.

  “Lack of sleep is followed by irritability, then more lack of sleep, and more irritability.” The doctor paused. “Drinking more coffee and soda than usual?”

  “All of the above.”

  “That will contribute to the cycle. Stick to water.”

  Will nodded again.

  “You want a script for a mild sleeping pill?”

  “No. No.” No drugs. He was adamant about that. “Let me try to get a handle on things on my own first.”

  “Fair enough.” Dr. Nolan leaned forward. “By the way, keeping secrets is another stressor.”

  “What are you talking about? Secrets?”

  “Who have you shared this with?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Huntington’s.”

  “Are you kidding? No one but Rose.”

  “You have every right not to be tested. But it’s still in your best interest to develop a support system. A pastor or a counselor. Friends and family members.” He opened the lower drawer of his desk. “Here’s a list of family counselors in the area.”

  Will took the pamphlet and turned it over. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “You’re going to have to do more than think about it. To tell you the truth, Will, I’m more concerned with your overall health than Huntington’s. You’re showing all the signs of physical and emotional breakdown. Every symptom you mentioned can be attributed to stress. Even the low blood sugar. You’re stressed and forgetting to eat. Bottling every thing inside is giving you insomnia. Stress can kill you.”

  “So can Huntington’s.”

  “I think you better focus on today and quit worrying about tomorrow. I want to see you back in here in a month for another checkup. I’ll expect some lifestyle changes.”

  “You’re sure it’s stress?”

  “Son, I don’t get paid to lie to you. Do yourself a favor and get a counselor. You can’t hold everything inside and can’t do it all yourself. Your father had the same type A personality. It didn’t help him and it isn’t helping you. I like to think you learned something from your father’s mistakes.”

  Will opened and closed the brochure. He released a deep breath.

  “I know this isn’t what you want to hear. Maybe part of you wants to hear it is the Huntington’s. An easy answer. But that door hasn’t opened yet.”

  He stared at Will long and hard. “What you’re experiencing now you are doing to yourself. Take a day off. Relax. Have some fun. Forget about the Huntington’s for a few hours every week.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Maybe so. But whether you take my advice or continue to do what you’ve always done is completely up to you, Will. So are the consequences.”

  “Will.”

  Will stiffed. Rolling down his shirtsleeve, he forced himself to relax before he turned at the sound of Annie’s voice in the clinic hallway.

  Annie’s and Ryan’s.

  Her face lit up as she approached him, and Will
couldn’t help but notice how lovely she looked, her dark hair long and free, a contrast to the yellow blouse she wore. New clothes from their shopping trip, he recalled. Yeah, Annie was a sunny picture all right, except for the tall shadow at her side.

  “What are you two doing here?”

  “Ryan brought me in for my checkup.”

  “I was supposed to do that, wasn’t I?” Will asked, with a disgusted shake of his head. Dropped the ball again. “You should have called me.”

  “I tried but your cell phone was off.”

  He pulled the phone off his belt. “Just can’t get used to having to be available twenty-four-seven. Sorry. I turned it off when I went in for my exam.” He nodded to Ryan. “Thanks for taking her.”

  “My pleasure.” Ryan grinned, his expression amused.

  You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Jones? And don’t I feel like a horse’s behind?

  “Are you sick?” Annie’s question interrupted his thoughts. She looked him up and down with a furrowed brow of concern.

  “Me? Naw. Annual physical and lab work.”

  “Old geezers have to check their cholesterol once a year, right, Sullivan?”

  “You tell me, Doc.” Will ran a hand over his face. “Don’t know why I didn’t think about your appointment when I was here, though. Lots on my mind lately. Sorry.”

  “Will, quit apologizing. It’s really all right.”

  “You on your way in or out?” Will asked.

  “I’m done,” Annie said.

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “He wants me back in three weeks and then he’ll okay me to go back to work.”

  “You sure you heard him right? That seems awfully soon to me.”

  “Will.”

  “Hey, I’m glad you’re mending without any problems, but it’s only been how long since—”

  “Five weeks.”

  “Who is this doctor? Did you check his credentials?”

  “Will.”

  “How’s Okie doing?” Ryan interjected.

  “Coming along. She told me to tell you your horse misses you.”

  Ryan laughed and crossed his arms. “Funny, Sullivan. Did she mention her new vet?”

  “Yeah. Said he wasn’t nearly as goofy-looking as you.”