The Veterinarian's Daughter
Chapter 1
Michonne Claymore checked her Fitbit for the millionth time watching the time tick away. It was just past ten at night, but sleep eluded her. She listened to the house creaking in the still of the night and soft snores which came from her daughter, Camille who snuggled next to her, as she lay in her childhood bed restless.
She was temporarily staying with her ageing parents. Her life currently consisted of her work as a veterinarian filling in for her father and being Camille's mom. Camille was her ray of sunshine in an otherwise crazy world, and she kept her grounded.
Her recent anxiety came from the men in her life, so she replayed over and over again the altercation earlier that day between the two alpha males who now had her in their crosshairs. Somewhere between bouts of berating herself about the events of the day and promising herself to do better, she heard it. The distinct sound of a pebble being thrown at the house, scraping against the shingles above her bedroom window. The pebble fell to the ground with a thud. She recognized the signal and wondered how many pebbles had been thrown before she caught on.
Michonne scooted out of bed. She kissed Camille's temple while using extra pillows to create a barrier for her because her bed was much higher than the one Camille slept in. She would never forgive herself if her careless actions caused her daughter harm, nor would her ex-husband, Jackson.
Michonne opened the drapes and peered out the window and saw Rick in the backyard.
He saw her silhouette in the window and retreated towards the back gate.
It was early June, but it was fairly cool outdoors. Spring was a late bloomer this year, so Michonne quickly pulled on a pair of jeans over her leggings and an old Iginla sweatshirt over her tank top.
On her way outside, she slipped her feet into the pair of Crocs her mother kept in the mudroom. She didn't worry about her appearance. She quietly slipped out the back door, scurried across the backyard and out the back gate to the waiting pickup truck parked on the other side of the hedge in the laneway between the two properties.
Michonne leaned inside the passenger window knowing he was still pissed from the mishap that happened earlier that day. She knew his anger was valid.
"Rick, it's late. What are you doing here?" she asked, not recognizing the extra softness in her voice given the circumstances.
"Is she mine?" he asked. There was no salutation. His words were clipped and lacked compassion. His eyes were like blue glaciers in the light of the full moon. A chill emanated from inside the cab which combined with the outdoor conditions made it suddenly feel much colder.
"What?" Michonne answered clearly confused.
"Michonne, don't play games with me. It's clear how much I meant to you. Is Camille my daughter or not?" he asked, his deep voice strained.
"No. She's not."
"And why should I believe anything you say?" he added, his voice cracked, betraying all the things he couldn't say.
"Rick, please this is not the time nor the place for this discussion. I just can't right now." He continued as though not hearing her plea, "Camille's about what, four-years-old, right?
She ignored his insinuation.
"So, what now? Are you back?" he asked sarcastically.
"I'm back here to cover for dad for a month or so. But after today, I really don't know. Why?"
"You deserve better. You know that right?" he added referring to an unexpected visitor earlier that day.
Michonne sighed because she really didn't want to get into it with Rick, she simply wanted to get back inside before her daughter realized she was gone.
Earlier that day...
Michonne drove past the lush green pastures where cattle could be seen grazing for miles in the pastures on both sides of the old dirt road on her way up to the Grimes ranch. She could have driven this particular stretch of dirt road with her eyes closed. The battered Ford pickup truck sputtered and creaked its way up the steep dirt road until she pulled to a stop in front of the house. The entire ride from the country road to the Grimes's home at the top of the hill took almost ten minutes.
Michonne watched as James Grimes descended the stairs and walked towards the pickup. Ordinarily, his six-foot frame was imposing. Today, however, his shoulders were slumped over and his carefree smile was replaced by a mask that concealed his troubles.
"Chonnie? What are you doing here? Max never said anything 'bout you coming home, speaking of which, where the hell is, he at anyway?"
"I'm sorry, daddy won't be coming out today. He's going to the hospital for his pre-op procedure. I'll be filling in for him until he's cleared to return to work."
James raised his cap slightly and scratched his head. "Nothing serious, I hope. Max never said a word 'bout this."
Michonne's right hand tapped the steering wheel. She didn't feel comfortable discussing her father's medical condition given that it seemed he never said a word to his clients. Her father was a very private man. But the Grimes's weren't just clients, they were like family; in fact, they almost became family until she walked away.
Instead, Michonne found herself saying, "It's a simple procedure. What seems to be the problem, Mr. Grimes?"
"Chonnie, you're all grown up now, Mr. Grimes makes me feel so ancient. James will do just fine."
"I'm sorry—Mr. Gri—I mean, James. How can I help?"
"Come on then, I'll take you to 'em."
Michonne was relieved to hear that James would take her out to the barn. It meant Rick wasn't around, she knew their paths were bound to cross sooner or later, but she had yet to figure out exactly how she would deal with that scenario. Right now, however, she was on the clock and she had a job to do.
"Damn heifers should be in heat or coming into it, but they're not. It's cutting the breeding season close—don't need to tell you that an open cow is money wasted—too much riding on 'em."
It all made sense she thought, the worry he wore like a suit of armour except, in this case, it was not a protection device because missing the breeding season could cause the financial undoing of the entire farm. "Why don't I examine them and we can go from there, eh?" she added placing a reassuring hand on his arm. He shook his head in agreement and left her to examine the heifers.
Four hours later, Michonne finished the last of the examinations. She peeled off the used palpating glove sleeve and disposed of it into a nearby trash can. After a thorough examination, the diagnosis was the same for the eight heifers.
James Grimes walked into the barn at right about the same time with the same worried look on his weather-beaten face. He couldn't read Michonne's body language, so he was unsure whether to expect good or bad news. He hoped his heifers were not destined for the sale barn. "What's the damage, Chonnie?"
"You have absolutely nothing to worry about, James. The heifers aren't coming into heat anytime soon because they're already bred."
James issued a sigh of relief and scratched his head. The news was good. It was a surprise because neither he nor his son had arranged for the bulls to service the heifers. "How can that be?" he asked almost to himself; they had waited and watched for the signs but nothing happened.
"Daddy did say you had a breach in the fence a while back. He also said he examined the ones which strayed over to the Gunnerson's farm before they were allowed to mix with the rest of the herd. It seems while they were awol they came into heat and the Gunnerson's bull took care of business."
"We did," he added, scratching his head once more, "that's what... 'bout seven weeks back," he added, calculating out loud.
"Well, they came back with a surprise. I'd say you needn't delay breeding the rest of the herd any longer."
Michonne washed her hands and packed up her medical kit, relieved that the news was positive. As the two left the barn together, she saw the physical transformation as the old man's shoulders lifted and the pep in his step returned. His mood became jovial.
"Well, little lady, it seems like a celebration is in order, why don't you join us up at the house for lunch? Mary's made her famous pecan pie because she thought Max was coming out, but when I left the house, she was in the midst of whipping up something special for you."
Michonne was about to protest, knowing it was not a good idea to stay for lunch. She just wanted to do the job and be on her way. But James Grimes was a man who usually got his way, he saw Michonne wavering, and he knew the reason for her hesitation, so he added, "I insist." His strong, calloused hand took her by the hand and tugged at her gently when out of the blue, a little voice sounded and drew her attention away from James. Michonne silently cursed her father; the old man just couldn't stay away, she thought. She would never be out of his shadow. It was day one, but it already felt like it had been weeks, which was a good indication of what was ahead for her. She wished he'd respect her as a professional and let her do her job without him hovering around.
"Mommy! Mommy, can I keep him? Pleeeeze?" Camille pleaded emphasizing the last word as she ran down the dirt path to catch up with her mother.
Michonne's four-year-old daughter, Camille was now at her feet and in her tiny arms was an English Sheepdog puppy. The puppy had a white face with a black patch over its left eye, a black overcoat and a soft white undercoat.
Camille was an adorable mixed-raced little girl, she had a light brown complexion. She wore a yellow headband around her tight wiry brown curls. Her oval face featured long straight dark lashes which framed her hazel eyes with golden flecks that twinkled with excitement, and her dimpled cheeks showed off a mouth full of baby teeth. She wore a yellow gingham cotton dress and little brown cowboy boots.
Michonne crouched down to Camille and rubbed the puppy's head. "He's beautiful, but I don't think we can, sweetie."
"She can. It's a gift," came a deep masculine voice, "every little girl deserves a puppy."
Shit, she thought, Michonne took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Her heartbeat accelerated. As Michonne rose up from her crouching position, her father and Rick joined them. There was hurt evident in Rick's eyes, but apart from that, Rick Grimes was still the same. He stood just shy of six feet with a baseball cap on his head, silky brown curls could be seen peeking out at the back of his cap. Rick had a strong bone structure and his face featured days-old stubble. He had sad blue eyes, a classic nose and pink lips, with the bottom one a little poutier than the top one. His lean frame and broad shoulders were decked out in a Canadian tuxedo. His attire never changed over time from the denim jacket, tee-shirt, his belt which featured a cowboy boot buckle down to his faded Wrangler jeans and his well-worn cowboy boots.
This was not the way she hoped they would meet, but here they were. His mere presence still affected her even after all this time.
"Mommy, the man gave me a puppy. Can I keep him, pleeeeeze, Mommy?"
It wasn't as if she could deny her daughter after what Rick said. "Yes, baby, you may. Now, what do you say to the nice man?"
"Thank you, Mister."
Rick chuckled, "Rick," he replied with such gentleness it made Michonne's heart hurt to see the two interact.
"Mister Rick."
"Just Rick, sweetie." He corrected as he patted the puppy's head and it yipped happily.
Camille, still holding on to her precious little puppy, took Rick by the hand and pulled on it. The action caused Rick to crouch down to meet her and he was rewarded with a hug and a kiss on his cheek. Rick's arms effortlessly scooped Camille and her puppy into a hug. It was a beautiful warm moment.
Michonne watched Rick, Camille and the puppy together and felt tears pricked her eyes as they built up and threatened to spill. She bit the inside of her lip to hold them in check because there would be plenty of time to beat herself up when she was alone.
"Now that this puppy business is settled, lunch's waiting." James' voice boomed and burst their bubble.
"Say no more," Maxwell Brewster added, rubbing his portly belly.
The six were about to continue the short distance towards the house when the roar of an engine and the crunching of gravel could be heard which caused the dogs to bark as a white Tesla came to a stop at a safe distance away from the battered pickup truck.
Jackson Claymore opened his car door and exited the vehicle closing it behind him. Jackson sported white denim, a navy shirt with white piping and aviator sunglasses. He looked down at his expensive Italian brown loafers which were now covered with a light film of dust in disgust. Quickly recovering his composure, Jackson clapped slowly, "Well," another clap, "ain't this a Norman Rockwell moment?" And he clapped once more. "So, this is the ghost who destroyed our marriage, eh?"
Camille heard her daddy's voice then she saw him and wriggled herself and her puppy free from Rick's embrace. She smiled as she ran towards her father as fast as her tiny feet could carry them. Jackson crouched his tall lanky frame down to meet his daughter.
"Daddy! Daddy! Look, I got a puppy!" she cried out while the excited puppy tried licking Jackson's face. "He likes you, Daddy," Camille added, with a smile from ear to ear. Her hazel eyes sparkled.
"Hey, honey. How's daddy's Princess?" Jackson asked, kissing his daughter's forehead while tilting his face away from the excited puppy.
Rick rose up to his full height, next to Michonne. His eyes were like glacial slits. His jaw locked and the vein at his jawline throbbed; his fingers clenched and unclenched involuntarily at his side. His body became rigid and his breathing slowed. Rick tried desperately to control his anger, which bubbled beneath the surface of his skin like a volcano preparing to blow. Michonne saw his nostrils flare and knew his patience was skating on thin ice. Rick didn't suffer fools gladly and Jackson Claymore III was a class A narcissist who was all pomp and show.
Michonne extended her hand, she gently touched Rick's fist and whispered, "Rick, please don't—not in front of Camille." Their contact though momentary, she hoped it was enough to reach the rational man, but she couldn't be sure.
Michonne then turned her attention to her ex. She stepped forward, "What are you doing here, Jackson?" she asked exasperated by his antics.
"What did you expect? I left town for a week only to come back to find you've absconded with my daughter."
Michonne ignored Jackson's blatant lie which was meant to incite Rick. She felt the waves of energy radiating off him. What were the chances that Jackson turned up at this very moment?
"Jackson, this isn't the place for your BS. I'm working—" she answered tersely.
"I can see that you're working very hard at replacing me in our daughter's life. Since when do you conduct business inside your client's home?"
"Now look here, boy, in dem here parts that's just how we do business. Not that it's any concern of yours, but I brought my 'lil sunshine out to see the puppies," Max answered, stepping forward and coming to his daughter's defense ignoring Michonne's outstretched arm.
Rick who had had enough of Jackson's superiority bullshit brushed past Michonne and stood directly between them in front of her ex. He squared his shoulders and prepared himself for whatever may ensue. Looking down at Jackson, Rick spoke, "What they're trying to say to you is pretty simple. If you aren't conducting business here or considered a family friend, it means you're trespassing. You. Are. Trespassing!" he annunciated slowly to ensure the message was delivered as intended.
Jackson released his daughter, dusted off his shoes with his hands, then rose up to meet the challenge. He puffed out his chest and stared down at his opponent. Rick's mask reflected back at himself in Jackson's sunglasses.
"I get that you might be new in these parts so lemme spell it out for you. You're not welcome here. You can go peacefully or I'll make you leave, either way, you're leaving," Rick added, in a steely calm manner which belied the war raging inside of him. He knew he had to be smart because there was a child present and Michonne too, but for that, he really wanted to fuck up the smug sonofabitch's face. What did she see in him anyway? He was nothing more than a damn Ken doll, he thought to himself.
"Mommy? Camille cried, reaching for her mother.
The tension escalated quickly. Michonne picked up a confused Camille and tried to calm her daughter, "It's all right, baby."
"Son, ain't no good can come of this, like my son said, you're trespassing. And out here," James added, his hands spread wide encompassing the vast terrain, "we tend to settle thangs ourselves—if you know what I mean. Now, take your sissy ass off my property before I get my shotgun and make some coyotes very happy."
Civility eroded fast, so Michonne tried mitigating the damage. She passed her daughter to her grandfather. "Dad, please take Camille inside to wash up for lunch. NOW!" She added, raising her voice and giving her father a slight push to mobilize him.
"Mommy?" Camille cried in confusion and her puppy yipped.
"It's okay, baby, mommy won't be long," she called back to her daughter as her father mounted the front stairs to the house.
With her attention once more directed at the escalating situation before her, she called, "Rick, please—he's not worth the trouble."
Jackson laughed a hearty laugh. His body bent backwards and forwards like the floating man at the car dealership which amused Camille. "Seems like I got here just in time. You two look like y'all are ready to nest. You're welcome to the mother, it's not like you haven't been helping yourself already."
Michonne was shocked at the statement, but she didn't react. He could not have known. She could only see Rick's profile which appeared granite-like, it gave nothing away.
"What, nothing? Did you think I didn't know that you were fucking my wife? Let's get one fucking thing straight, that's my fucking kid, they are not a packaged deal. Stay the fuck away from her."
And with that, Rick's fist appeared out of nowhere and connected with Jackson's face sending his aviators airborne which caused his head to bounce off Rick's fist and back again as blood-spattered the air.
The sound of cartilage breaking caused Michonne to flinch.
Jackson lost his balance on the loose gravel while cupping his face as blood spilled through his fingers and fell face down in the dirt and groaned.
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