If Bridget were here, she’d have Kobie smiling. She’d loved camels. Most children wanted to see the lion first. Not Bridget. From the time she was little and had seen a baby camel on the news channel, she’d been a fan.
It was an unusual choice. Camels were usually not the friendliest of animals; sometimes they were downright mean. One of Bridget’s therapists had suggested that Bridget had chosen a somewhat unlovable animal to revere because she, Bridget, felt somewhat unlovable.
Luke had never managed to forget that therapist’s words. They’d been spoken kindly, but the meaning behind the words, to the young boy he’d been, had been haunting.
It was the first time he’d seen Bridget through the eyes of the world instead of through the eyes of a brother.
He’d mistrusted the world ever since.
“You got time to talk?” Luke asked.
“Got a few things I need to do.” Then Jasper added suspiciously, “What do you want to talk about?”
“Katie Vincent’s agreed to come work with Aquila. She’ll be here on Sunday.”
Jasper nodded, his face—usually animated—void of expression. Funny, Jasper had pushed for Luke to call Katie Vincent. “About time.”
“She didn’t have much choice. I threatened to return the animals.”
Jasper frowned. “She’d have come around eventually. Too bad you had to twist her arm. Still, it’s right that she come home.”
Luke frowned. Home? This wasn’t home.
As if reading Luke’s mind, Jasper said, “Back to her roots. She’s a natural with animals. She’ll know what to do. Her daddy was wrong to send her away.”
“Then why did he?”
Jasper became absorbed with the camels. He looked as though he’d rather be anywhere but here. For days now, Luke had tried to instigate this conversation, but always Jasper found a way out. At the moment, though, he was trapped: two big camels on one side, Luke on the other.
That didn’t keep him from taking a step toward Kobie as if a four-hundred-pound camel with thirty-four teeth—weapons really—was safer than straight-talking with Luke.
When Jasper did respond, instead of looking at Luke, he studied one of Kobie’s calloused knee joints as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “I think at the time, Bob thought it was easier to take care of animals than to take care of animals and kids.”
Luke opened his mouth to ask another question, but Jasper—with an agility that came from years of caring for skittish animals—managed to skirt around Luke and walk away, looking older than Luke remembered.
It was something you couldn’t stop, aging. Apparently even for camels. Was that the beginning of gray forming on Cheeky’s chin? Luke and the vet hadn’t even begun to discuss geriatric care.
Lately, they’d been too busy discussing how to save Aquila.
When cats were sick—losing weight and such—they still acted as if they were in perfect health. Because in the jungle, if a cat became ill, it became a target. Nature called it survival of the fittest. But Aquila wasn’t in the wild; he was in captivity.
Luke also didn’t think Aquila was sick, not really. He was depressed, and not just about the change in venue. With Bob Vincent gone, Aquila missed the person who’d cared the most for him.
Aquila had what Jasper called a one-owner heart.
But Jasper also believed that at one time Katie Vincent had owned Aquila’s heart and that she could, with a little work, take ownership of it again.
* * *
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you’re just packing up and leaving.” Janie Vincent, all of nineteen years old, looked both dismayed and intrigued.
Not a good look coming from a little sister who was no longer little.
“The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll be home,” Katie said.
She’d expected her sister to be upset at the thought of her leaving. After all, Katie not only paid the bills, but also stocked the refrigerator, cleaned the house and did the laundry. Plus, both Katie and Janie had issues with leaving.
But it was the intrigued look that worried Katie. At the moment, Katie playing cheerleader was the only thing keeping Janie at least halfway interested in being a college freshman—a college freshman with no idea what to major in and who only wanted to take art classes. Without Katie there to push her, Janie could easily walk away from her studies.
“You don’t even know this guy,” Janie protested. “You’re driving across two states and it might be for nothing.”
“I know a few things about him.”
More than a few, actually. When Luke had made the offer on her father’s animals, she had spent hours on the internet researching Bridget’s AZ Animal Adventure and Luke himself. She knew he wasn’t an animal trainer like their father. She knew that Luke had a marketing degree and had worked at an advertising firm before hiring on as director of Bridget’s AZ Animal Adventure. She knew he preferred the words animal park to zoo, and that Bridget’s had had humble beginnings. She knew that Luke had renamed the park after his sister Bridget who’d died from Down Syndrome. She knew that Bridget’s name had only been added to the marquee and letterhead a year ago.
“He’s perfectly safe,” Katie said, “and I’m not doing it for nothing. I have to make sure Aquila is all right.”
Janie nodded. A shadow crossed her face, but only briefly before her typical I-don’t-have-a-care-in-the-world look returned. “I remember Aquila. He was nothing like Tyre. He was your favorite, like a pet.”
“No,” Katie said firmly. “Wild animals are never pets.”
Janie, more than anyone, should realize that. The scar down the left side of her face was a constant reminder. She wore her hair cut in a style that hid her ear. But Katie didn’t need to see the damage.
She remembered it was there.
“Are you sure—”
Katie shook her head. Now was not the time to get into a debate about the past.
A past that would all too quickly be a reality for Katie.
On one hand, she’d love seeing Jasper again. He’d been like a grandfather. It was Jasper who’d drummed into her that wild animals should never be considered pets. Katie’s father had thought the same thing, but he was too busy buying animals and training them to take on television shoots to worry about what Katie was doing. He was just happy that she’d inherited his gift with animals and that he could market her ability.
He had plans for Katie.
She was photogenic.
She’d basked in the role of favored daughter, mistaking it for love. Sometimes, at night, Katie would replay in her mind what her father had taught her, how to hold animals, how to tuck them against the skin so they were tight and safe.
Katie had felt safe with her father.
Janie, on the other hand, had seemed to take after their mother—at least where animals were concerned. Leslie Vincent had liked animals but wasn’t so crazy about the effort it took to care for them. She’d been the bookkeeper, the organizer, the voice of reason.
And when she died, all reason left. There’d been no gentle voice to remind Bob that family came first, that their daughters still needed a father. So Katie had had to take care of Janie.
Her sister hadn’t inherited their father’s gift with animals, except when it came to drawing them. She also hadn’t inherited their mom’s