At noon, after having delivered a rousing morning seminar to a massed throng of franchisees, Rory sat in the hotel's main restaurant and absentmindedly picked his way through a seafood salad. After he'd eaten all he intended to, Rory put his fork down and stared out onto Halifax's windswept harbor where the schooner, "Blue Nose II," was straining against its mooring lines.
As he watched swarms of tourists board the vessel, Rory found himself wondering why Peter Sinclair had cancelled their luncheon meeting? Earlier that morning, his client had called and said "sorry, but I can't make it today. I've got something to take care of." Before Rory had a chance to ask why, Sinclair had bid goodbye and hung up the phone.
Munro had noted that Vicky wasn't sitting at her desk when he walked through the hotel lobby, a few hours ago. When he'd inquired as to when she'd be coming in, he'd been told that she was ill and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Vicky hadn't seemed like she was suffering from anything when dancing with Peter at the "Brigadoon" party the night before. Perhaps Vicky wasn't sick today, but was spending time with Sinclair?
As he strode into the convention room, Munro had fully convinced himself that the couple was indeed delighting in a tryst and this belief left him feeling guilt-free regarding his decision to ask Shona to join him for dinner, this coming Saturday night. He didn't want to push her, by calling today, but would do so tomorrow morning. It would give him something very pleasurable to think about as he took a leisurely drive up the coastline this evening.
During the night, Shona had managed to drift off into periods of dream-caressed sleep, inhabited by Rory. With the timeless Highland mists swirling around them, Shona had found herself standing in Brigadoon's town square, holding on to Munro for what she knew would be eternity. Each time that Rory's lips met hers, Shona would respond with the startling intensity of a passion that had lain dormant within her for so many years.
Shona eventually awakened to a new day. Usually, she took less than five minutes to shake the cobwebs from her mind and then begin taking her shower. This morning, however, Shona lay in bed for over two hours, trying to push thoughts of Rory from her heart.
Shona threw the magazine on her bed and turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. "It's only 11:00. I don't have to go to the clinic before 1:00 p.m.," she sighed. As she continued to wrestle with the dilemma of not wanting to break Victoria's heart, but fulfilling her own desire to spend time with Rory, she made a decision. She'd go to the clinic now and discuss the dilemma with her best friend and partner, Ginny Morgan. Within an hour, Shona was walking into the lobby of The Scotia Animal Clinic.
"Shona, what a surprise! I didn't expect to see you for another hour or so," beamed Susan Baxter, the clinic's receptionist.
"Hi, Susan," said Shona. How has business been this morning?"
"It's been like a real zoo in here. We've had a slew of cats and dogs and even a bunny named Ruffles and... well you know the routine."
"Yes, we sure do get menageries in here, Susan. By the way, is Ginny free?"
"Yes, she's been enjoying a well earned break and..."
"Hi, Shona" said Ginny Morgan as she walked into the reception area. "Gosh, you're early today!"
"Yes, I know, Ginny," said Shona "I wanted to chat with you for a few minutes. Have you got some time?"
"Sure, what did you want to talk with me about?" asked Ginny, in a voice tinged with concern.
"I need your advice, Ginny, and I... well, let's go into the back office. Susan, you can take your lunch break now and I'll watch the phone. Just make sure to put the "Closed" sign on the door when you leave."
"Okay. I'll see you in an hour," said Susan as she reached for her purse and slid out from behind the reception desk. She walked up to the front door and turned the "Open" sign over. It now read "Closed" and "Have you spayed or neutered your pet?" Susan shut the door behind her and headed for the parking lot.
"The party lasted well into the wee hours of the morning, but that wasn't the main problem. Vicky brought a date to the soiree and, well, he and I, um..." Shona stammered, closed her eyes for a second, and let out a sigh.
"I think I know what the problem is, kiddo. So, when are you going to get together with this guy?" asked Ginny with a cheeky smile taking up far too much room on her impish face.
"You are incorrigible, Ginny! You're right, though. I would like to see, Mr. Munro, um, Rory, again, but I can't do that to Vicky. It would break her heart and...oh, look, Ginny, I didn't get much sleep last night. I was thinking about this over and over and I..."
"Shona, Vicky bounces back and forth between lovers like no one I've ever seen before. Surely you remember what happened after she broke up with David Andrews? She swore that she'd love him forever. Forever lasted one month and then overnight she was head over her pumps, madly in love with another guy."
"Look, I know that, but, well...I think she is in love with Rory. She tried to tell me that he wasn't very attentive to her needs and...but I know she was lying to me. I could see it in her eyes. I don't know what to do about this? I especially don't know what to do about convincing myself that I've no interest in spending time with Rory."
"Shona, from the way you light up when even barely mentioning his name, you can forget about losing your interest in Mr. Munro. He must really be something for you to be tearing your heart out over this. Vicky will get over it and after all, if Rory is really interested in her, he won't call you. He won't try to see you. I'll bet he does, though. He'd have to be out of his mind not to want to go out with you."
"Okay, Shona, here is what I think you should do. Call Vicky and see how the rest of the evening went? You'll know, in her voice, whether she's really serious about Rory. If she isn't, then dig up your courage and call him."
"I guess you're right, Ginny. I will call Vicky. I really hope she's done with Rory. I shouldn't be talking like this, but... oh Ginny, I'd love to see him again. Okay, I'll call her this afternoon. Mind you, I haven't a clue how I'd possibly be brave enough to call Rory? Well, maybe I won't have to worry about that. Thanks for the help."
"No problem, dear. I've got a feeling that you and Rory are about to have quite an adventure. You've earned it, Shona, you truly have." Ginny glanced at her watch and said, "since you're here, I'm going to leave a little early. Give me a call, tomorrow morning, and let me know how it works out." Ginny shrugged out of her laboratory coat, gave Shona a hug and with a twinkle in her eye turned and walked out of the office. A moment later, Shona heard the clinic door open and then close.
Shona took a deep breath and then reached for the telephone and dialed the number of The Grande Highlander Hotel. "Hi, is Vicky Monaghan in this afternoon?"
"No, she isn't," said the hotel operator. We don't expect her before tomorrow. She isn't feeling very well, I'm afraid."
"Oh, I see. Okay, thank you," answered Shona with a cloud of concern creeping into her voice. She clicked the disconnect button and began to dial Vicky's home number.
"Hi, this is Vicky. Thanks for calling. If you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you." Vicky's charming and vaguely smoky voice oozed its way into Shona's ear.
Shona slumped back in her chair and took no more than ten minutes to convince herself that Vicky must be completely distraught about the events of last night. MacKenzie knew that breaking her friend's heart was not something she could possibly do. Yes, she desperately wanted to find herself in Munro's arms, but Shona refused to destroy Vicky's dreams. Shona would make up some sort of excuse to tell Vicky when she called, if she called. MacKenzie knew that Brigadoon, once again, had faded away.
In the solitude of her apartment, Victoria punched the message button on her answering machine and began to mindlessly listen to Shona's words. With tears streaming down her face, Vicky could only see Rory's dazzling eyes, but they weren't looking back at her. Shona was the center of Munro's attention, not Vicky. As she reached for yet another glass of wine, Monaghan swore to herself that she wasn't going to give up the man she'd fallen in love with. Not without a damned good fight, anyway.
During the afternoon hours, at the clinic, memories of Rory's remarkable charm and stunningly handsome face and body wound their way back into Shona's heart. Her relief had only lasted a very short time.
Thankfully, as the evening approached, she became extremely busy with a host of patients. The seemingly never-ending array of cats and dogs helped to clear her mind of the extraordinarily enticing Munro, but just barely.
At 8:30, Rory walked through the brightly-lit garage of The Grande Highlander Hotel and located his rental car. He opened the door and eased his body into the gleaming, metallic-blue Camaro. Rory turned the ignition key, felt the engine roar into life and then backed out of his parking spot and headed for the exit ramp. He turned, right, at the top and then began driving towards his destination.
As he drove along the circuitous route that led to one of Nova Scotia's most popular and enchanting scenic wonders, visions of Shona were caressing his thoughts. A gentle smile was firmly planted on Rory's face and heart as he passed a marker that read "26 kilometers to Peggy's Cove."
Rory steered the Camaro around a bend in the highway and glanced, for a second or two, at the majestic vista displayed around him. The lushness of the rolling hills and the refreshing scent of the ocean caused him to dream of what he imagined the magnificence of Brigadoon must be like.
He had always thought that the imaginary village must exist in the magical mists of The Highlands of Scotland. Tonight, however, as he allowed his attention to waver from the road for only a moment, he began to believe that Brigadoon was much closer. Here, in the miraculous scenery of Nova Scotia and the home of Shona MacKenzie, the hamlet of unparalleled love and romance was waiting for him to cherish and remain in, forever.
Vibrant beacons of crimson and blue suddenly yanked Rory's attention back to the road. Less than 50 yards away, on the right-hand shoulder of the highway, a police cruiser was parked and its flashing light-bar was casting an angry warning over a desperate scene.
Rory slammed his foot against the brake pedal of his car as a blood-soaked dog valiantly tried to escape from the restraining noose that had been wrapped around its neck by a police officer. As the terrified dog momentarily darted towards Rory's screeching car, his captor pulled the struggling animal towards the rear door of the cruiser.
Munro jerked open his car's door and then raced towards the police unit where the officer continued to wrestle with the wildly thrashing animal.
As the police officer yanked the wire noose, suspended by a six-foot pole, more tightly around the dog's neck, Rory yelled, "what the hell are you doing? Can't you see that the dog's jaw is broken? Damn it, officer, you're going to strangle it. Stop it, for God's sake, stop it!"
"Listen, sir, back off," exclaimed the exasperated policeman. A car hit this dog and there's nothing you or I can do to save its life. Look at all of the blood! This animal is in shock and I've got to handle it this way. I can't control it in any other manner. Don't you dare get too close to it. Stand back, sir and let me do my job."
"This dog's jaw is broken and now you're choking it! You're going to kill this animal, officer. You're going to kill it!"
Rory suddenly stopped yelling at the policeman as his startled eyes homed in on a torn pink collar lying beside the rear wheel of the cruiser. He grabbed it and held it under the glare of the cruiser's light bar. Rory rubbed a warm streak of blood from the leather strap and read the name "Duchess." The fact that the dog was a Collie hadn't registered, before now, with Rory.
"Mister, this dog is done for and I'm going to take it to the nearest shelter. They'll put this animal out of its misery." Now, I advise you to get back into your car and head off to wherever you were going." The burly policeman reached down, wrapped his huge hands around the restraining pole and continued pulling the barely conscious dog towards the back seat of the car.
"Please, please listen to me. I know who owns this dog. It belongs to a friend of mine. Maybe I can get it to a veterinarian and try to save this animal's life. Please, let me try," stammered Rory.
"Sir, I don't know if I can let you... 56, see the couple at 660 Inverness Rd" crackled a voice over the cruiser's radio. The officer held onto the restraining pole with one hand and reached for the unit's microphone with his other. "56 on the way."
"Okay, mister, I've got to get out of here. I don't have time to argue with you. Take the dog and see what you can do. It is your responsibility now." He slipped the noose from the dog's neck and threw the pole into the back seat of the car.
"Thank you, thank you" blurted out Rory as he gingerly picked up the shuddering and traumatized animal and began heading for his car. A stream of blood poured out onto the sleeve of his tan colored sweater. He spun around and begged in a voice drenched with desperation, "but where, where is the nearest clinic?"
"About ten miles towards town. Take the Macdonald Trail exit and head North for one mile. The place is called "The Scotia Animal Clinic," but it's probably closed by now." The officer jumped into his car, turned the ignition over and, with a squeal of the tires, sped down the highway.
Munro jammed his key into the ignition, turned it with a sharp twist and glanced over his shoulder to make sure that no cars were coming towards him. He shoved the gearshift into Drive and, as a shower of gravel kicked up behind the vehicle, he whipped the car into a tight U-turn and raced off into the night. "Hold on, Duchess, please hold on. I'll get you there, I'll get you there."
Not giving a damn whether he'd meet up with any other police officers during his perilous drive to the clinic, Rory rocketed the car well past the 140-km mark as the Camaro flew down the highway. Rory reached back with his right arm and steadied Duchess's body as the car careened around a curve. The Collie gave a grunt of distress as Rory momentarily stroked her blood-encrusted body.
Finally, the exit ramp for Macdonald Trail came into view and, without flicking the indicator lever, Rory veered off to the right and brought the car to a screeching halt at the top of the overpass. He glanced in both directions and then slammed his foot on the accelerator and roared off towards the clinic. Duchess whimpered as fragments of her shattered jawbone gnashed with a sickening sound.
Within five minutes, the lighted sign of The Scotia Animal Clinic came into view like a guardian beacon emitted by a lonely lighthouse standing watch over the rocky shores of The Bay of Fundy.
The tires of Rory's car left a scorching trail of rubber on the pavement as he stomped on the brake pedal and brought the car to a halt in the parking lot. He threw open the door of the Camaro and left it swinging as he ran towards the clinic.
Munro reached the hospital door and gave it a ferocious yank, but it was locked. He pounded on the glass with both of his fists as the sign on the opposite side of the door began swinging back and forth. It read "Closed" and "Have You Spayed or Neutered Your Pet?"
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