“I kind of, you know, backed into your car.”
“You what?” Nancy pushed past the teen and his father and down her front steps. Her Durango had been shoved four feet closer to her porch by the hippo-sized Suburban hard up against its rump. Her rear bumper was dented, the right taillight in shards and her right rear tire was flat. “What on earth happened?”
“My son, here, decided to move the Suburban into our driveway.”
“Yeah, I guess I hit Reverse,” the kid said. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“It was the fault of a malevolent universe?” his father snapped. “This unfortunate creature is Jason Wainwright, my son.”
“Look, you. I need my car right now—I have an emergency. I’ve got to help save a dog that was mauled by a pit bull.” She grabbed Jason by the sleeve. “Come on. You and your daddy are going to drive me to the clinic, wait for me if it takes all night and drive me home, or I swear to God I’ll have you locked up for driving without a valid Tennessee driver’s license.”
“I can’t leave my two younger children alone,” Wainwright said.
“Can’t your wife look after them?”
“I don’t have a wife.”
Dear Reader,
Since I began writing about Creature Comfort Veterinary Clinic, readers have been asking me to tell Nancy Mayfield’s story. Well, here it is.
Nancy was a professional equestrian until a terrible accident put an end to both her career and marriage. Now after years of struggle, she has a job she loves as a veterinary technician, good friends and neighbors, and her own quiet cottage in a tranquil village.
Until Tim Wainwright moves in across the street with his three strange children.
Suddenly she’s fighting desperately to avoid getting caught up in the family’s problems at the same time she’s drawn to Tim. She was an awful stepmother, and never intends to take on that role again.
Meanwhile, Tim is struggling to be a good father at the same time as he’s falling in love with a woman who doesn’t want any family, and definitely not one as dysfunctional as his.
Can they get together? Read and find out.
Enjoy!
Carolyn McSparren
Over His Head
Carolyn McSparren
CONTENTS
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
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
“I LOVED WILLIAMSTON when I was a kid. So will you.”
Tim Wainwright turned his Suburban from the highway onto a narrow county road. A small sign said, Williamston, Tennessee, Population 123. He accelerated past it and hoped the kids hadn’t noticed that number.
Sometime in the ten years since his grandfather’s funeral cortege had wound along this road to the cemetery, the county had paved it. Thank God. After the horrors of the drive from Chicago, even in an air-conditioned Surburban, Tim didn’t think he could have faced the last leg of his trip on rutted gravel in a cloud of hot July dust.
His children would mount a full-scale rebellion at the thought of living down a gravel road. He took a deep breath and willed his shoulders to relax. He glanced over at Jason, who stared mulishly out the side window. He’d refused to say a word since they crossed the bridge over the Mississippi River, driving straight through Memphis and out the other side.
Jason’s buzz cut would have time to grow so that he wouldn’t start school totally bald. He’d fight losing the two earrings in his right ear, but they’d have to go as well. Maybree Academy had a strict dress code. That meant buying him clothes sized for a teenager rather than an African bull elephant.
From what he’d seen of the student body when he came down to interview, Maybree students preferred the preppy look. He prayed Jason would knuckle under to peer pressure and go preppy as well.
He could see Eddy in his rearview mirror, slumped against the armrest, either sleeping or pretending to. As glad as Tim was that Jason had stopped complaining, he wished Eddy would say something, anything more than to ask for orange juice at breakfast. If only he’d cry. Just once. Stoicism might be okay for Marcus Aurelius, but it was damned unhealthy for a seven-year-old kid.
At least he was no problem to dress. Tim could probably drape a tarpaulin over him without his noticing. He hadn’t even played his Game Boy on the drive down. Just sat and stared.
Angie’s black hair bounced in and out of his field of vision in the mirror. Usually he forbade headphones. He’d prefer that his children not go deaf before they reached twenty. Today, however, the headphones and portable CD player had been a blessing. She had zoned out on her latest techno-rock band.
“You must admit,” Tim said to Jason, the only one who’d be able to hear him, “This is beautiful country. Look at all the trees, the fields, the open space.”
“Yeah,” Jason said with a wave of his hand. “Look at all the malls, the pizza places, the movie theaters. Yeah, we’re gonna love it.”
“Look, Jason, I realize this is culture shock, but once you get used to the freedom…”
Tim saw his son actually turn his head to look—no, sneer—at him.
“Freedom. Right. Freedom is not riding to school in the morning with my father, spending all day with him spying on me and riding home with him in the afternoon. Freedom is a new Mustang.”
“In your dreams. We’ll be lucky if we can afford a thirdhand VW