The Courage to Try Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  About the Author

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  From Great Danes to Pomeranians to polydactyl cats, in the rural town of Novi, Michigan, veterinarian Dr. Jaylin Meyers treats them all. But being brought up in the foster care system, she’s learned not to count on anyone staying around.

  New vet tech Kristen Eckert has no time for a relationship. She’d much rather take care of horses, shoot skeet, or ride her Appaloosa. Their mutual attraction takes them both by surprise, and they are drawn into a relationship.

  But Jaylin is frightened by the idea of relying on someone else and withdraws. When Kristen is injured in an auto accident, can Jaylin find the courage to risk her heart with Kristen or will she let her chance at love vanish forever?

  The Courage to Try

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  The Courage to Try

  © 2015 By C.A. Popovich. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-529-9

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: October 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Victoria Villasenor and Cindy Cresap

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri([email protected])

  By the Author

  Edge of Awareness

  The Courage to Try

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to extend an enormous thank you to Len Barot, Sandy Lowe, and all the hardworking folks at Bold Strokes Books for all they do to help me fulfill my dream of writing. I also want to thank Victoria Villasenor and Cindy Cresap, editors extraordinaire, for helping me make this work so much better.

  To Sandi, who patiently answers all of my equine questions, I’m grateful for all the ways you’re in my life.

  Finally, thanks to all the readers of lesbian romance. Your support means everything.

  Dedication

  To Annie

  Chapter One

  “Pull!” Kristen Eckert shouted a second before catching sight of the yellow topped black disk flying across the pale blue sky. She leaned into the shot and tracked the clay pigeon with laser precision, as she gracefully swept her twenty-gauge across her body. She pulled the trigger and focused on another disk whizzing into her line of sight from the opposite direction. She repeated the process and allowed herself a second to feel the satisfaction of watching the clay target disappear in a puff of smoke. She was on track to another perfect one hundred. She broke open her over-and-under and tossed the empty shells into the station’s bin before positioning herself on station eight, the last station of her round. She took a deep, calming breath and exhaled a shout for the target. She smoked the high eight and turned her concentration to the last shot. The clay target disintegrated as she followed through with her swing, and she grinned.

  “Damn, girl. You sure you ain’t training for them Olympics? You’re gittin’ as good as that gold medal winner.”

  “Thanks, Tim, but Kim Rhode trains for Olympic-style skeet shooting. Our rules state we start with the gun on our shoulder, not down by our hip, the way she trains. And besides, I’m only trying to beat my own best score.” Kristen walked back into the clubhouse with her craggy friend and owner of the gun club.

  “You go ahead and try it. Your momma shot that way the whole time she was here. I ain’t gonna tell nobody to stop ya.”

  “We’ll see. Sometimes I think I wouldn’t mind challenging myself more. Do you have any of your Italian roast brewed this afternoon? I could use a cup.”

  “Sure do. I’ll get ya a sandwich to go with it.”

  Kristen wiped down her Browning Citori and carefully placed it in her space in the gun rack. Tim Roland had assigned spots for the few top shooters in his club, of which she was one. She often thought the gesture was to honor the memory of her mother, rather than her shooting ability. The year before Kristen was born, her mother had sauntered into the club as if she owned the place and challenged Tim to a shoot-off for a right to membership. She’d been the first female member of the private gun club located just outside of Novi, Michigan. At least, that was the story Tim told. Her mother had relayed pretty much the same rendition, with the slight addition that she’d mentioned bringing her heart surgeon husband with her occasionally. Tim vehemently denied that her marital status had anything to do with his decision. “That lady could shoot!” was all he’d said, and today Kristen was one of several single female members welcomed into the previously male-only domain.

  “Here ya go.” Tim set her coffee cup and sandwich on the round table in front of Kristen and sat down opposite her. “Everythin’ okay with your dad?” he asked.

  “He’s no worse. I’m heading over to see him soon. Sometimes I almost wish he would get worse, you know? I can’t imagine knowing everything he knew, being a heart surgeon, and then struggling to remember to brush your teeth, or to recognize your friends and family. At least if he was totally unaware of everything, he wouldn’t have to deal with the…I don’t know, the agony of it, I guess.” Kristen took a drink of her coffee. Is it dad’s agony, or my own? She wished she could figure out a way to keep him home.

  “You tell him I said hello.” Tim patted Kristen’s hand as he spoke. “Ya don’t know what he might understand. I gotta go back to work. We got a new member comin’ in today.”

  “Thanks, Tim.”

  Kristen watched him retreat to his office, finished her coffee, and headed out to her car.

  “You must be that hotshot female. The one to beat.”

  The voice was unfamiliar. Kristen set her gun case in the trunk of her Boxter and turned to face the stocky, broad shouldered man. His slicked back dark hair made him look as if he were wearing a cap. A thick gold chain gleamed against his black turtleneck and matched the gold in his belt
buckle. His ring covered fingers wrapped around the handle of a leather trimmed gun case with Fabbri embossed across the side. He smelled as if he’d bathed in expensive cologne.

  “I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Kristen asked.

  “Not yet, but you will.” The stranger sauntered into the gun club without another word.

  She shrugged and turned away. Must be the new member Tim mentioned. She’d dealt with plenty of men who didn’t like women being there, and it didn’t faze her anymore. She had far more important concerns in life than some guy with a chip on his shoulder.

  *

  Kristen steadied herself before she headed into the building. She noted the newly painted Sundowning Care Facility sign next to the door, and the new mat they’d put out since her last visit. She took a deep breath before entering her father’s world. She found him in his usual spot sitting in his recliner with the TV on and the sound off. She automatically did a quick assessment. He was clean-shaven, and they had combed his hair. The pajamas were fresh, and he was wearing the warm socks she’d bought him for Christmas. She rested her hand on his shoulder before speaking.

  “Hi, Pop. I brought you some more Rolos. How’re you feeling today?” Kristen steeled herself for the answer. Last week his dementia had taken him so far into his past he hadn’t recognized her.

  “Is that you, Kristen? You look thin. Are you feeling all right? I’m a doctor, you know. I could write you a prescription for something.” Her father’s brows furrowed, and he seemed to focus on something over her left shoulder. She knew better, but she turned to look toward the blank wall at which he was now intently staring. She fought down the bile as her stomach churned with anger at the injustice of her renowned heart surgeon father sitting in front of a muted TV, grappling for comprehension from a bare wall, and completely dependent on the care of strangers.

  “I’m fine, Dad.” She set the ignored Rolo candy on his nightstand and noted the empty wrappers still in his wastebasket from her last visit.

  “Did your mother come with you today, honey?”

  This was becoming a frequent question. “No. Not today.” Kristen had given up reminding her father about her mother’s death from cancer six years ago.

  “That woman works too hard. She’s a nurse, you know. In a prestigious hospital.” He creased his brow again, no doubt, in an effort to squeeze out the lost memory. “I can’t remember which one it is right now, but she works way too damn much. What about you? Why aren’t you working today? You know you’ll never get ahead if you don’t work.”

  “It’s Sunday. I wanted to spend the day with you.” Kristen watched her dad’s eyelids droop and his head begin to nod. She wished she could take him home where he belonged, but she’d tried that. He’d gotten too difficult to handle. Even the caregivers she’d hired had only lasted a few days. She sighed in frustration. “Do you want to lie down and take a little nap, Dad?”

  “Yes. Thank you. My daughter will be coming later to visit me. I need to rest now.”

  Kristen helped him out of his chair and sat him on the side of his narrow hospital bed. She gently lifted his feet onto the bed as he lay down. She covered him with the hand knitted comforter she’d brought from home, one of her mother’s many creations, and kissed his forehead before heading to the nurses’ station. She paused just outside the door to his room and leaned against the beige wall. The sterile looking hallway reminded her of the brown tiled hospital corridor she’d spent hours pacing as she waited for her mother to finish her chemo treatments. As difficult as that was to endure, it had given her mother a few more years of life. At least it was action. She clenched her fists and swallowed the lump in her throat at seeing her father slowly fade from existence, with nothing she could do about it. She pushed away from the wall and focused on what she could do—let the nurses know he wasn’t alone.

  *

  Kristen listened intently as she repositioned her stethoscope on the distended belly of the pregnant Arabian mare. “It sounds like a washing machine in there. A lot of gurgling and whooshing.”

  Dr. William Berglund laughed as he washed his arms in the sink outside the stall. “I expect everything will go smoothly. She’s delivered two foals without our help. She probably wants us out of her way so she can get on with it.”

  Kristen wrapped her stethoscope around her neck and stood by the doctor. The scent of Lava soap, fresh straw, and manure mixed with horse sweat brought back memories of her father. She was twelve years old the first time he’d allowed her to help him deliver one of his Appaloosa foals. She was about as much help now as she’d been then, standing in awe as the mare tossed her head and stomped her front foot. She was reminded of the Alien movie when a foot, nose, or butt pushed out the mare’s side as the foal rolled around, ready to claim its place in the outside world. The breeder, a friend of Bill’s, called him more for company than for any medical reason, and Kristen was grateful Bill had called her to come along for the experience.

  The horse let out a screeching whinny, went down on her knees, and rolled over onto her side. A minute later, she turned onto her belly, whinnied again, and pushed her rear end up, still on her front knees.

  “She seems agitated,” Kristen whispered to Bill. “I guess I’d be, too, in her position.”

  The mare pawed the floor before she plopped her butt down and eased over onto her side again.

  The breeder chuckled. “She puts on quite a show, doesn’t she?”

  “So, this isn’t anything new then?” Bill moved toward the stall door, watching the horse attentively.

  “Nope. This foal might be a big one though.”

  After several more minutes of standing, going down on her knees, rolling to her side, and repeating the process, she finally stayed on her side.

  “Here it comes.” Bill had quietly made his way into the large stall and stood ready to assist the mare if necessary. “Come on, little one. Let’s see those feet.”

  Bill’s gentleness and concern for his patients was one of the reasons Kristen trusted him. She’d worked for him for five years before her mother had gotten sick, and she knew he warranted his reputation for being one of the best equine veterinarians in the area.

  The placental sac popped out, and the foal’s front hooves emerged, followed by its velvety nose. Bill carefully grabbed the front legs of the foal and pulled in an effort to help the mare. He broke open the sac, wiped out the foal’s nostrils and mouth to clear its airway, and stepped back to let nature take its course. In less than ten minutes, the newborn was floundering under the onslaught of its mother’s tongue.

  “It’s a girl, and you were right. This filly is big,” Bill said.

  Bill and Kristen stayed long enough to see the filly find her mother’s nipple to feed before heading to Bill’s van.

  “I wanted to ask you something, Kristen.” Bill meticulously went through the unused emergency kit, counting his supplies. Then he carefully stowed it in its designated compartment in the back of his van and turned to face Kristen. “I’m bringing another veterinarian into my practice, and I was hoping you might consider coming back to work on a part-time basis for a while to help her get settled.”

  “Her? Is she a horse vet?” Kristen handed Bill the empty bucket she’d carried out behind him.

  “No. She stepped in for Paul last week for a standard neutering, and I was impressed with her attentiveness. I’ve been getting so many calls for small animal services lately that I thought it would make sense to expand.” Bill nestled the empty bucket far from the rest of the equipment and closed the back door. “She’ll be covering all the small animals, and I’ll still be taking care of the horses. She has a practice in St. Clair, but it sounds as if she’s ready to give it up.”

  “Bill, you know I quit the small animal clinic because I didn’t want to work with barking dogs and biting cats. In fact, I think cats are better off left in the barn than brought into homes as pets.” Kristen raked her fingers through her hair and paced behind the van. “I�
�ve got my dad to worry about, and the barrel racing events will be starting soon. I don’t know.” She knew she’d say yes. Bill had never questioned her need to take time off when she’d worked for him during her mother’s illness, and when her father had started his decline, Bill had offered whatever assistance she needed in his care. He’d even given her a month’s pay when she quit and tried to take care of him herself at home. She owed him.

  “I don’t expect you to stay forever. I know you’re busy. Think about it, please.” Bill leaned against his van as if he had all the time in the world to wait for her answer.

  “I’ll think about it.” She sighed in exasperation. She’d gotten used to her time being her own. When her father had become unable to care for his affairs, Kristen obtained power of attorney, and all of his financial investments became her responsibility. She’d inherited her parents’ property and all their assets, so she didn’t need to work, but she’d help Bill out.

  “She’s coming to the clinic next Friday. If you can, come by and meet her, and let me know what you think.”

  “I’ll take Zigzag through his keyhole practice in the morning and come over after that.”

  “Thanks!” Bill grabbed her hand and squeezed gently. “She’s nice. You’ll like her.”

  “We’ll see.” Kristen didn’t even try to hide her skepticism. Her father had bred Appaloosas for years, and she’d grown up learning what to feed them, when to groom them, and when to call the veterinarian. She knew about West Nile, Lyme disease, Potomac Fever, heaves, and colitis, and she had firsthand knowledge of the tragedy of an inexperienced veterinarian delaying treatment. She sighed. At least if this new doctor isn’t any good, it’ll only be dogs and cats. She waved to Bill as he pulled away and then she went to her car.