Page 25 of The Geography of Happiness

“Oh, Jesus,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. “You’ve clearly had the full immersive experience.”

Zach smiled kindly. “I doubt it. Hannah was very... circumspect in what she said on the topic.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “But she does know that you don’t likeanyof it. Wellington, her mother, the whole thing.” His look of concern made it clear I was doing a less than grand job of hiding my feelings from my daughter.

My gaze darted to where Hannah was planted in front of the television while surreptitiously trying to eavesdrop on our conversation, no doubt. She glanced up and caught me staring, her smile lighting up the cabin. I dropped my voice and whispered, “How badly am I fucking things up?”

Zach huffed out a laugh and raised both palms. “Don’t ask me. No kids, remember?”

“Yet,” I reminded him, keeping my eyes on Hannah. “Be afraid, my friend. Be very afraid.”

Zach laughed and headed back to his vehicle with the jaunty step of all those yet-to-be parents convinced they’d never be like the rest of us.

I watched him go with a smile on my face.

His turn would come.

Nothing surer.

And I’d pay good money to be there when it happened.

As dinner passedand the evening died away, any wishful thinking on my part that Hannah might move onto a fresh topic of conversation died the death of a thousand paper cuts to my tired brain. By the time Hannah finally shooed Gabby to their bedroom around nine, I’d been subjected to more information about Zach, the shepherds, station life, service dog programmes, and the life of merino sheep than I could ever possibly want to know. In fact, I was starting to envy the damn sheep. Five months cruising the high country in relative isolation was beginning to have its appeal.

I gave Hannah and Gabby fifteen minutes to get settled, then wandered down the hall to say goodnight. I expected her to be reading with Gabby sprawled across the end of her bed as usual, but instead, Hannah was fast asleep with her book lying unopened in her hands.

I tiptoed over and moved the teenage detective story to the side table before pulling the covers over Hannah’s exposed arms and brushing her blond curls from her lashes. Gabby stirred and opened a single eye just to check what I was up to, then closed it again.

I squatted at the side of the bed and lightly stroked my daughter’s cheek. “Goodnight, Princess Pineapple.” It was hernickname from childhood, but one that I was now strictly forbidden from using outside the house. I considered the rule grossly unfair since Judah was still permitted to call her angel eyes, and the bastard took great pleasure in lording that fact over me on a regular basis.

I backed silently from the room, pausing in the doorway for one last look. Asleep in her bed, Hannah appeared impossibly young and delicate, and I thanked the heavens yet again for the gift of her in my life. When I’d been sixteen, Amber’s pregnancy had seemed anything but a gift. How wrong I’d been. I killed the light, closed the door, and made for the kitchen to unpack the dishwasher before heading to bed.

An hour later, after thumbing several magazines and struggling through fifty pages of a less than stellar historical fiction, I found myself reaching for the card on my bedside table. The one Sonja had given to me before I left the clinic.

Spencer Thompson MVS

Oakwood Veterinary Clinic

I read the name for the umpteenth time, turned it over, and noted the two phone numbers on the back: one for the clinic and the other a cell.

I twirled it in my hands and told myself the twisting knot in my belly was nothing but concern about Miller settling in all right. It was natural. Cute dog. Overly responsible rescuer. Shelter guilt. It made sense.

But the eyes staring back in my head, although brown, didn’t belong to Miller. Nor did the silken voice, or the mischievous laugh, or the scent of leather and lanolin that kept fogging up my brain.

“Fuck it.” I reached for my phone, dialled the cell number on the card, and then... hung up.Ugh.I was being ridiculous. I’d regret it. It was a crazy, idiotic idea. And a mistake. The biggest mistake.

No argument there.

I was staring at the phone like it carried the plague, so when it suddenly rang, I barely managed to juggle the thing to my ear and stop it from falling to the floor. “Yes?” I practically squeaked, my cheeks blazing hot enough to fry an egg.

“Terry?” Spencer’s mellow tone travelled down the line all the way to my belly. My name had never sounded so good.

But . . . how did he?—

“I added your number to my contacts, in case you’re wondering,” he quickly added, like he had read my mind.

Oh.I screwed my eyes shut and pulled a face.Idiot.“Oh, right. Yes, of course. I guess you’re on call a fair bit with emergencies and stuff.”

Spencer huffed. “Such is the life of a vet. This is actually my work line. I have a private cell as well so I can maintain some semblance of sanity. Matt and I switch around being on call and I turn mine off when it’s his turn. Tonight, it’s my turn, so you’re in luck. What’s up?”

“Well, it’s hardly an emergency,” I apologised. “But I wanted to check in on Miller. I told Hannah what happened and she’s worried about him. I thought if I talked to you, then I could put her mind at rest... in the morning... when she wakes up, because I won’t wake her now... obviously.” I cringed at the stumbling explanation, and there was a long pause at the other end of the phone. I really couldn’t lie to save myself, a fact which always landed me in a ton of shit with Judah, who thought it was hysterical.

---