Page 7 of Bluebell Promises

Landon raised his eyebrows. “What kind?”

“Golden retriever,” Ben said, remembering the soulful eyes of the beautiful dog named Reggie. He’d promised his owners that he could get Reggie through this cancer diagnosis, giving Reggie another few years of life, if not more. The dog was only eight.

“Man, I don’t know how you do it,” Landon said. “All I do is look through microscopes all day. But you deal with people and their most treasured friends.”

Ben laughed nervously. He didn’t always like to think of the intensity of his work. He’d always adored animals, but sometimes being a veterinarian meant putting himself at the mercy of people’s wide-ranging emotions. People were lonely and needed their animals. The problem was, most cats only lived to be sixteen or seventeen, and dogs hardly reached that. This meant that Ben had to give a lot of bad news. He had to help people say goodbye.

Sometimes those people took their anger and sorrow out on him. He couldn’t blame them, he supposed. Grief was irrational.

Ben walked the ten blocks back to his one-bedroom house, which he’d purchased last November after Landon had convinced him to leave Boston and return home. “Man, my kids are getting old, and I need someone to hang out with,” Landon had said over the phone, laughing. Of course, by that time, things were already serious with Celia, whom Landon was usually with. But Ben had understood. Landon was worried about Ben. Landon thought he was lonely.

The truth was, Ben had been lonely in Boston. He and Rina had divorced eight years ago, and although he’d dated around and even had a few semi-serious relationships, he’d never managed to find someone who filled his heart the way he needed. He’d missed his brother, and he’d missed Maine. He’d closed his veterinary business down and moved to Bluebell Cove, where he’d set up a brand-new veterinary clinic and begun to take clients immediately. The very first woman who’d walked through the door, carrying her cat, had been his first-grade teacher back in the day. This had put a smile on his face. He was home.

The following morning, Ben was ready and prepped for surgery at seven thirty sharp. He was clear and focused, working together with his assistant to remove Reggie’s tumor. Reggie was unconscious and looked so adorable, his eyes closed and his eyelashes long and soft and glinting. Ben told himself not to think about how much Reggie was adored.

When the surgery was over, Ben had a brief tête-à-tête with Reggie’s owners, telling them that everything had gone well. “We’ll monitor him over the next few days,” he explained. “We’re confident that he’ll be able to go home by the end of the week.”

Reggie’s parents—owners, Ben meant—gushed with happiness and hugged each other. They were in their forties and childfree, so Reggie was their baby. They put every bit of love that they didn’t direct toward one another into him.

Ben took a breather for an early lunch, then prepared for an onslaught of appointments. He saw two kittens; he saw a snake; he saw a lizard; he saw three parrots who all had the same treatable disease.

He heard himself talking for hours on end about feeding schedules, the ointments each animal required for its sores, and the best tactics for its everyday care. All the owners looked at him as though he were the person they trusted more than their own human doctors.

Ben also liked analyzing why each person had chosen their particular animal. The snake owner, for example, was a woman in her fifties who wore all purple and talked a lot about the Grateful Dead. She liked to wear the snake around her neck, where it sometimes got tangled with her glasses chain. The lizard guy was in his twenties and wanted to have a whole wall of cages to keep more species. His plan was exciting to Ben, too. He had a lot of experience with reptiles, but they were rarer than your average cat and dog, so he always looked forward to seeing them.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, Ben was exhausted and ready to collapse. Maybe he could order food later and watch television. Perhaps he could push off cleaning the kitchen for another day. But that was when Landon texted, asking if he wanted to meet up for a beer.

LANDON: I feel like I was weird yesterday. Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you. You can tell me all about the surgery. And I want to ask for your advice on something.

BEN: Surgery went well! Nothing to report. Want to meet at Steffi’s?

Steffi’s was a German bar not far from Ivy’s flower shop. Landon and Ben liked to frequent it because, number one, their father had gone there prior to his death, and number two, they had the cheapest and best German pilsners on tap. Ben arrived a little after six and waited at the counter, perusing the food menu, till Landon arrived.

“You eating?” Landon asked, sliding onto the stool beside him.

“I’m starving,” Ben admitted. “Thinking about a schnitzel.”

“I’ll have one, too,” Landon said. He seemed jittery, rubbing his palms together. Ben wondered what he needed advice on. Landon was his older and practical brother. He always knew what to do.

They ordered their beers and food and raised their chins to watch the last of a soccer match, a rerun of Germany’s World Cup victory over Brazil. How many years ago was that now? Ben had never really liked soccer, or any sport, but Landon liked everything that had to do with a ball, a goal, or a track. He commented on some technique the team was good at, something Ben didn’t understand. Then he turned to Ben and said, “I’m going to ask Celia to marry me.”

For a split-second, Ben gaped at his brother, then clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Man, yes. That’s exactly what you should do.” No advice required, he thought.

Landon laughed and raised his pint. “I’ve been thinking about it all year. Now that we live together, it’s more of a formality, I guess. Maybe it’s silly to be nervous about it.”

“No. It’s not. It’s a symbol of something bigger than that,” Ben assured him.

“I think so, too. But I don’t want to be too sappy,” Landon said, laughing.

Ben sat back, remembering when his brother lost his first wife and how devastated he’d been. Ben had worn a stiff suit to the funeral and not known what to say. He’d sat beside him at this very bar, back then, and they’d drunk beer and watched television and not talked. Ben had hoped that just being there would help. He thought maybe it had.

“You deserve it,” Ben said. “You’ve built something incredible with Celia. You should find a way to celebrate.”

Their food arrived. Ben raised his knife and fork and didn’t let himself wonder if he’d ever find someone to fall in love with. Other people’s happiness didn’t have to take away from your own, he knew. “How are you going to do it?” he asked.

“There’s a Harper family party this weekend,” Landon said. “I thought I might do it in front of her sisters and daughter?”

Ben chewed and swallowed a bite of schnitzel. “That’s brave of you.”