Annie's Rainbow - Fern Michaels [111]
Jake was waiting for him on the back steps. He tussled with him for a few moments before entering the house. “So, how’s our guest? Guess it’s time for coffee. The lady had meat on her bones, so I’d say that warrants breakfast. Bet you could go for some bacon and eggs. Come on, boy, kitchen duty calls, but first I think we need to check on our guest.”
Jake raced up the back staircase and stood panting outside the door of Annie’s room. She was awake, propped up on the pillows.
“How’s your knee?”
“It’s not as swollen as it was last night. It throbs. Can I trouble you for some more aspirin?”
“Have you been up yet?”
“I can’t put any weight on it if that’s what you mean. I can hop around on my right foot, though. Enough to let your dog out and get back up here. If you can get someone to pull my truck out of the mud, I think I can make it back home.”
“That probably isn’t a good idea. I’m going to call Henry Masterson. He’s our local doctor, and he makes house calls. However, he doesn’t like to be called before seven-thirty. It’s just that now. I’ll get you some clothes and help you downstairs.”
“I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Mitchell.”
“My name is Clay. Mr. Mitchell was my father. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving. Anything will be fine. I hate to keep troubling you.”
“I’m afraid I’m not a very good host. I don’t get much company way out here in the country.”
“Why is that, Mr . . . Clay?”
“People gave up on me a while back. Okay, here’s some shorts and a shirt. If you wait here, I think I know where there are some scissors. I’ll call the doctor and be back up to help you down the steps.” He returned moments later with a pair of orange-handled scissors.
“Sounds good,” Annie said, eyeing the clothes Clay laid on the bed. Women’s clothes. They looked like they would fit, too. She wondered whom they belonged to. She asked.
“They used to belong to my wife,” Clay said curtly.
“Oh,” was all Annie could think of to say.
“She was killed by a drunk driver three years ago. How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy. I’ll take three. Do you make hash browns? If you do, I like onions and peppers in mine.”
“That’s how they serve them at Millie’s Café in town. She doesn’t charge extra for the grease, either.”
Annie laughed. “Guess that means we aren’t having hash browns.”
Jake threw his head back and howled.
“Now you’ve done it. He won’t be happy unless I make the whole nine yards. This dog is smart. He eats what I eat. Boy, does he like Boston cream pie. Minus the chocolate. Chocolate isn’t good for dogs.”
“I know. Mine eat people food, too. The vet has a fit. They’re healthy and happy, and that’s all I care about. Oreos are chocolate, Clay.”
“Yeah, I know. He only gets them once in a while. He’s kind of partial to Pecan Sandies. I’ll make the call and be back.”
“You know what, Jake,” Annie whispered to the dog. “He’s a curmudgeon but kind of nice. It’s hard when you lose someone you love. I guess you miss her, too, don’t you, big guy?” Jake whimpered. “I wish you could talk. I owe you my life. I guess you kind of know that, don’t you?” Jake whimpered again.
“So what do you think?” Jake continued to whimper. “Ah, I get it. Her scent is still in these clothes, eh? Okay, we can fix that right away.” Annie pulled off the shorts and shirt and slipped back into Clay’s robe. “Howzat?”
“Woof.”
“Gotcha,” Annie said, tickling the big dog behind the ears.
“Didn’t the clothes fit?” Clay said from the doorway.