Better With You Read online

  Better with You

  Camden Cove, Volume 1

  Ellen Joy

  Published by Ellen Joy, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BETTER WITH YOU

  First edition. August 15, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 Ellen Joy.

  Written by Ellen Joy.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  The Next Chapter

  Safe with You | One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  For my men.

  I love you, more.

  One

  Elizabeth leaned against the door to the examination room and took a deep breath before stepping inside. She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been thinking of this appointment since her assistant booked Mr. Cahill’s dog that morning. She’d also be lying if she said she hadn’t been practicing professional ways to say you’re a complete you-know-what when the time came, because with Mr. Cahill, it was only a matter of time.

  She whispered to herself, “Don’t look at his eyes.”

  Then, she managed a smile, opened the door, and said in the friendliest of tones, “Good afternoon, Mr. Cahill.”

  He rose from kneeling beside his golden retriever. “Good afternoon.”

  Before she even opened his chart, her eyes slipped. There, under the darkest of brown eyelashes, were the bluest of blue eyes she had ever seen. Like the ocean during a thunderstorm, dangerous and intense. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. The physical juxtaposition mesmerized her.

  His grimace, however, snapped her back to reality. She diverted her attention to his dog’s file and ruffled through the pages, getting down to business. “How’s Max doing?”

  “Obviously, not so well.” His voice oozed cynicism as he gestured toward his sick dog.

  She bit her tongue before she reminded him that Max hadn’t been doing well since he first brought the poor dog to Camden Cove. When he bought the Sanborn farm. The farm she was promised, years ago.

  “Tell me what was going on last night.”

  She walked toward the dog as he explained the events of the previous evening. She had read her assistant Margie’s notes from his earlier call. Seizures on and off for hours. Max hadn’t been able to keep food down for a couple of weeks. His age didn’t help. She knelt next to him and placed her hand on his head, pulling back his brow. The golden retriever’s eyes said it all. He was barely holding on.

  “Are there other medications that might work better for the seizures?” Mr. Cahill asked, as he combed his hand through chestnut locks that hung just slightly above his eyes, contrasting strongly against the electric blue.

  Darn it, she had looked again.

  She regained her composure and returned to Max’s chart, pulling her stethoscope from around her neck. She listened to his heartbeat as she pulled back his hind leg and checked his abdomen. Max didn’t resist her prodding.

  “Has he been able to keep anything down?” The significant weight loss from his last visit was extreme.

  Mr. Cahill shook his head. “Not much.”

  A few days after Mr. Cahill moved to the farm, he had brought his elderly dog into the clinic. Even before she started the examination, she knew the diagnosis by its symptoms. Cancer. The past few months, the dog was dying slowly. Now, it was only a matter of time, especially with the dog’s age, but Mr. Cahill wouldn’t listen to anyone’s advice about putting the dog down. He wanted to hold on.

  “I’m afraid the side effects from another medication would do more damage than it would be worth.” Elizabeth petted the dog’s head. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath.

  “What do you suggest, moving forward?” Mr. Cahill crossed his arms against his chest.

  “We could try a higher dosage of valium, however...” She carefully planned out her words. “Given Max’s age and his current quality of life, you need to prepare, because even with the medicine, Max is in pain.”

  Mr. Cahill rubbed the back of his neck. “Is there a different type of medication that might work better?”

  The notes from his file indicated the senior veterinarian, Dr. Johnson, had suggested putting the dog down, and he fought it. If he wouldn’t listen to Dr. Johnson, he wouldn’t listen to her. “I think with the loose stools, and how he’s not keeping down foods—”

  He cut her off. “I’m bringing him home tonight.”

  “Sometimes dogs only hold on for their owners.” Elizabeth stood, this time purposefully catching his eye. Shadowed by his furrowed brow, a storm brewed in those brilliant blues. She understood why he wanted to hang on, but at this point, who was he really thinking about? “We can come out to the house to make Max as comfortable as possible.”

  He stood there, silent, as if contemplating her suggestion, but then leaned down and picked up Max’s leash. “Do all country veterinarians put the animals down rather than trying to save them?”

  The insult hit her like a punch in the stomach. Before she could stop herself, she swung back. “We take an ethical oath to protect animals from their owners’ blatant disregard for their health. If Max were living in the wild like his ancestors, he would’ve gone off by now and died on his own. He’s only holding on because of you, Mr. Cahill.”

  “Are you going to prescribe a new medication, or do I need to take him somewhere else?” His hand already on the doorknob, ready to leave.

  “I want to look at Max’s bloodwork before I prescribe another type of sedative, but I can send you home with something to make him more comfortable if he does begin to seize.” Before she could regret it, she reached over and grabbed her business card, writing down the emergency number for the clinic on the back.

  Her number.

  “And if things get worse, don’t hesitate to call.”

  He didn’t even look up as she passed the card to him, just stuffed it in the back pocket of his perfectly worn jeans, and turned away from her.

  “Don’t forget to stop at the counter to pick up Max’s medication,” she said as she opened the door, and just as she left, added, “You’ll have to administer them rectally.”

  She didn’t waste another second in the examination room. She had never wanted an appointment to end so badly in her whole career. In her notes, she’d be sure to write about what a jerk he was.

  Hiding in her office until he was good and gone, she returned to the reception area with his file in hand. From behind the counter, she spied him out the front windows as he lifted his dog in the back seat of his truck. You can take the man out of the city, but not the city out of the man, she thought to herself as he wiped the residue of road salt from his tailored shirt’s sleeve. Unfortunately, her eyes landed on his muscular arms.

  “He’s got a great butt,” Margie said from behind the desk.

  “More like he is one,” Elizabeth whispered to herself, not at all surprised by her assistant’s comment, but still looking around the empty waiting room. She may have noticed the same thing, but they needed to be professional with all their clients. “That’s enough, Margie.”

  Margie shrugged and grabbed his file from Eli
zabeth’s hands, putting it back into the cabinet. Elizabeth snuck another glance just as he happened to look through the clinic’s window. His eyes locked onto hers as he scowled. A part of her wanted to look away, but she never dodged a challenge.

  “Mrs. Wilson is coming in with Tootsie,” Margie said, sliding a new folder in front of her. Her assistant noticed Elizabeth’s focus, and her eyebrow cranked up. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was some heat in that look of his.”

  “Heat?” Elizabeth made a face. She didn’t want Margie to think she was checking Mr. Cahill out, even if she had been checking him out. “More like contempt. He doesn’t want to hear that his dog isn’t getting any better.”

  “No, that was a look, look.” Margie jabbed her in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Stop, Margie.” Elizabeth knew her sixty-something-year-old assistant didn’t see the harm in flirting with a guy like Mr. Cahill.

  “If Gerald gave me that look, I’d make him more than just meat and potatoes tonight.”

  “Seriously, Margie, it was nothing.” Elizabeth opened Tootsie’s file and read the notes, ignoring her assistant. She knew the dangers of falling for a man whose ego needed pampering. It was the reason she moved back to Camden Cove. Her heart had seen enough damage from a guy who trampled on it to get ahead.

  Even though thirty was technically still young, she didn’t want to waste any time on a guy like Adam Cahill. All throughout college and veterinarian school, she had dealt with men who couldn’t believe a girl from a small town in Maine could possibly be smarter, faster, and better than them.

  “Does Dan give you looks like that?” Margie asked, as she stacked a pile of papers on her desk.

  “Margie, stop.” Elizabeth sounded like a mother scolding a child. The nosy receptionist meant well, but her observations couldn’t be further from reality.

  “You’re a catch, Dr. Williams, and he’s a very attractive man who just happened to move into town.” Margie looked up, and her eyes held pity. “Dan is...well...”

  “Really nice,” Elizabeth finished her sentence for her.

  Margie nodded. “Yes, but nice doesn’t necessarily heat up the sheets.”

  “Margie!” The bell from the front door rang as Mrs. Wilson and Tootsie arrived for their appointment.

  “Hello, Mrs. Wilson,” Elizabeth greeted her client, never more thankful for a teeth cleaning. “Why don’t you weigh Tootsie as Margie checks you in? I’ll meet you in the examination room in a few minutes.”

  As Elizabeth walked out of the lobby, she continued to argue with Margie inside her head. Dan was nice, and things were really good between them. She liked him a lot. They had a ton in common. They both grew up in Camden Cove. Their families owned local businesses. He was kind and handsome. He was friends with Jack and Matt, her older brothers—which made things better, not weird. She also knew he would never hurt her. Things were going even better than good. Margie might be insinuating that Dan was boring, but nice didn’t mean boring.

  The only heat between her and Adam Cahill was from their animosity toward one another. That was it.

  EVEN FROM INSIDE HIS truck, Adam felt the revulsion in Dr. Williams’s glare. As irritating as she was, the veterinarian was right, Max was barely holding on. He probably should’ve explained to her how he wanted one more day, so Lucy could have a proper goodbye. Explain how Lucy never got to say goodbye to her mother. How much pain can a seven-year-old take? But he didn’t want to have to explain himself to a woman as pretentious as Dr. Elizabeth Williams. Tomorrow, he’d call for the other vet to come out to the farm and put Max down. Hopefully, he’d make it another night.

  Through the rearview mirror, Adam checked on Max in the back seat. The dog didn’t protest to sit up front like he would’ve in the past. He just closed his eyes as soon as he adjusted his position. He took a deep breath before leaving. Watching one of his most reliable friends die in front of him broke his heart, and just when he needed him most.

  He threw the truck in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot, driving onto Main Street. Rolling down his window, the sun rested on his arm, warm and bright, with the scent of the sea filling his truck’s interior. Signs of spring could be seen everywhere in Camden Cove. Most of the businesses had the typical Maine brown-shingled exterior with white trim. The little buildings lined the village streets, with daffodils and tulips in their window boxes. The spring day brought a new bustling to the seaside village he hadn’t felt since moving there, but he knew it was just the beginning of what he had heard was a busy tourist season. Businesses were reopening for the summer after being closed over the winter months. Most of the store fronts had a fresh new look. The windows had been washed, sidewalks swept clean, and new displays decorated the windows. People were out and about, doing their spring chores.

  As he followed Main Street out of town, he turned right on Stone Bridge Trail and down the winding road which brought him further out of town. Just before he reached the town line, he swung another right onto Smith Sanborn. There were only two houses on the half mile dirt road. His neighbor Barnes’s small cape at the beginning and his farm at the very end.

  Each time he descended down the maple-lined road, which was basically two rivets, in a truck no less, he would be reminded of what he left behind: a career as a corporate attorney at one of the best firms in Boston, his modern apartment in the city, the restaurants and the nightlife, a fully-loaded Beamer he’d earned when he became partner at Stephenson, Young and Meadow. He gave it all up to live on a farm in the middle of nowhere in Maine. What was he thinking?

  He rolled to a stop in front of the barn which extended out from the house in the classic colonial design. The wraparound porch had done it for him. Not too many of the older ones had a farmer’s porch, but this one extended three-quarters of the way around, with a screened-in portion off the back of the kitchen.

  The interior hadn’t been renovated much throughout the years, mostly maintained. A majority of the original woodwork was still intact. All the built-ins and fireplaces were original, except in the kitchen. A newer, more efficient woodstove and brick surround had been added in the late eighties. His favorite part of the old place was the wooden posts and beams throughout.

  Unfortunately, like all old homes, the bedrooms had small closets, if at all, and the bathrooms were awkward and drafty. Throughout the house, the floors were made with twelve-inch pine, which after two hundred years was the color of honey, but they were uneven and warped, and had an inch of lacquer. The heating system needed to be replaced ASAP, as well as the roof. And, if he had to replace the heating, he might as well replace all the electrical. Not to mention the barn and its issues. A money pit to say the least, but he loved it, because Lucy loved it.

  And Lucy was all that mattered to him.

  Adam got out of the truck and reached into the back seat for Max. He cradled his old friend in his arms, carrying him into the house. He didn’t fight it like he would’ve even a month ago. Once inside, he carried Max carefully to the bed he had set up in the room off the kitchen, and he fell right back to sleep. No longer did he follow at Adam’s heels like he had done for so many years.

  Was keeping him alive so that Lucy could say goodbye really selfish?

  Adam sat down next to Max and rubbed his golden fur. “It’s always been you and me, buddy.”

  A lump grew in Adam’s throat, choking him up. He let out a deep groan and looked up at the ceiling. He tried to keep it together, but holding back his emotions made his chest tighten, and he couldn’t breathe. He jolted up to a standing position and let Max sleep. Lucy would be jumping off the bus in no time, and being an emotional wreck would freak her out.

  He looked out at the backyard, a backyard that Max would’ve died for while they lived in the city. The irony killed him. So went the rest of his life. Born and raised in the city, he turned up his nose at country folks simple way of life. Now he hardly left the farm. For years, he ridiculed the stop-and-shop lawyers from
small towns fixing petty disagreements between neighbors. Now, as one of those lawyers himself, he couldn’t even land a client. And the only woman he had ever loved disappeared from his life because she couldn’t love him back.

  He pushed open the back door, kicking the bottom corner that always stuck. He left the door open to listen for Max as he stood on the back porch. The farm buzzed around him. It had been winter when he bought the property. A blanket of snow covered the farm for months, but with each passing day of spring, and each new patch of snow melted, he discovered more about the farm. New growth sprung to life. Blades of green grew between the golden hay that hadn’t been mowed for seasons. Granite stepping stones made trails around the house and weaved throughout perennial gardens, reviving from a long winter’s nap. Creeping vines he thought were dead, now showed life as they climbed the pillars of the back porch where he imagined he’d be sitting on sunny summer afternoons, watching Lucy ride her horses.

  The only complaint he had about the farm was that he couldn’t sleep. With the cacophony of peepers from the pond in the south pasture and the continuous hooting from the pair of owls he swore lived in the attic, he hadn’t slept through the night since he moved to the farm. Give him traffic and sirens, and he’d sleep like a baby.

  He took in a deep breath as he heard the rumbling of a school bus down the street and looked back into the room where Max slept. It’ll be worth it, he thought. It’ll all be worth it.

  ELIZABETH WANTED NOTHING more than to go home. After her day, all she wanted to do was slip into her pajamas and cuddle up with Joan, her cat. She wanted to snuggle under a blanket on the couch and binge something. But instead, she changed from her scrubs after Tootsie’s teeth cleaning, into a new spring dress she picked up at the boutique in town. She and Dan were supposed to meet her brother and his newlywed wife at Finn’s Tavern for dinner. Since the cleaning went longer than expected, she told everyone she’d meet them there. No sense in having Dan drive out to her place just to turn back again.