Beneath a Southern Sky - By Deborah Raney Page 0,31
window that overlooked the barn and corral. “You’ve got me,” she shrugged, obviously as puzzled as Daria. “He’s been going at it since he walked in the door this morning. He doesn’t usually get that way unless he’s been up all night. But he didn’t mention getting called out. And the surgery room is just like I left it yesterday.”
Daria shook her head. “Boy, that’s a side of him I haven’t seen before. I don’t think I like it very much.”
“Me neither,” Carla agreed. “Maybe today is one of those anniversary dates or something.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, maybe it’s Bridgette’s birthday, or it would have been their anniversary or something like that.”
A small knot started in Daria’s stomach. “Bridgette? His wife?”
Carla nodded.
“Did you know her?”
Carla shook her head. “She died before Cole came here. Back in Colorado, I think.”
“He doesn’t talk about it much, does he?”
“No. It must be tough for him. I would guess he probably still has some ghosts to deal with,” Carla said thoughtfully as she walked out to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup.
Daria tagged behind her. “What do you mean, ‘ghosts’?”
“Well, I have a feeling he blames himself for her death,” Carla said over her shoulder.
“Why?” Daria was taken aback by the comment. “Was he driving?”
Carla stopped stirring her coffee and turned to look at Daria as though she’d gone mad. “Driving? What are you talking about?”
Daria shook her head in confusion. “The accident.”
“What accident?”
“Cole…said she was killed in an accident. I-I guess I just assumed it was a car accident. It wasn’t?”
“You seriously don’t know what happened?”
Daria shook her head, wanting desperately to hear the story but feeling guilty that they were talking about Cole behind his back.
Carla walked back to the office and set her stained, chipped coffee mug on the counter in front of them. She cocked her head and studied Daria as if deciding whether she should continue. Finally she shrugged. “It wasn’t that kind of car accident.”
Daria waited, her brows knit together.
“Cole found her in their car. Carbon monoxide poisoning. They ruled it accidental,” Carla said, emphasizing the word accidental. “It might just be rumors,” she added quickly, “but I’ve heard she was pretty messed up in the head. It’s hard for me to picture Cole with someone like that. But, like I said, this all happened before he came to Bristol.”
Daria was stunned. Cole had mentioned his wife’s death that first day she’d come to work, but he’d never hinted that it was anything like this. He’d never talked about it since. Now she understood why. No wonder he always seemed so uncomfortable whenever she inched too close to the subject of widowhood.
“But why?” she finally managed to ask Carla. “How could that have happened? Do they really think she, you know…”
Carla shrugged. “Offed herself? Who knows. Like I said, it happened before he moved here. I can’t believe you haven’t heard this before, Daria.”
Daria put her hands to her face. “Oh, Carla, that’s just awful! But”—she wrinkled her brow—“I’m sure Cole told me that she was killed in an accident.”
“Maybe it’s just easier to tell it that way. You have to admit the real story is pretty shocking.”
“I can’t believe my parents never mentioned it.”
“People in town really like Cole, and everyone knows he doesn’t like to talk about her.”
Daria thought for a moment. “It’s more likely that they didn’t want to upset me. My parents have been pretty protective since I came back from Colombia.”
Carla gave her a sympathetic smile and leaned back against the counter. “They probably figure you have enough problems of your own.”
Daria opened her mouth to reply, but the slam of the back door stopped her. She heard the distinctive thud of Cole’s work boots on the tile floor and felt her face grow warm. She hoped he hadn’t overheard them talking about him.
“Carla?” he hollered before he reached the front office.
Carla threw Daria a here-goes-nothing look, jumped up, and met him in the doorway. “Yes?”
He appeared to be in a better mood, and his manner was polite and almost friendly now. “Can you help me out in the barn for a minute? I think I’m looking at a C-section with this mare, and Travis is up to his ears doing blood tests on Meyerses’ hogs.”
“Sure. Let me get my coat on.”
Carla grabbed her lab coat and headed down the hall toward the back door. Cole started to follow, then turned abruptly. Hanging on the doorjamb, he swung around and stuck