Chapter One
DR. WILLA MAE PARKER stared up at the goat on the slanted shed roof and wondered, not for the first time, if she’d taken a wrong turn in life somewhere around vet school.
The goat in question, all sixty pounds of sass and silver fur, glared down at her with the kind of disdain usually reserved for people who wear socks with sandals or talk on speakerphone in public bathrooms.
“Geraldine,” Willa said, rain trickling down her collar as she held out a baby carrot as a bribe, “we’ve talked about this. Just because you can climb something doesn’t mean you should.”
Geraldine flicked an ear and turned three slow, theatrical circles before settling into an even more dignified position atop the shed. Her bored expression made one thing painfully clear: She knew exactly who was in charge, and it wasn’t the human standing ankle-deep in the mud and waving vegeta bles in the air.
In her years as Sunrise, North Carolina’s only veterinar ian, Willa had handled her share of bizarre emergencies. She had performed CPR on a guinea pig named Kevin, extracted a tennis ball from a python named Sir Hiss-a-Lot, and once convinced an angry possum to vacate a church confessional before Sunday services. But this rooftop hostage situation with Geraldine was testing even her considerable patience. “Dr. Parker?” Mr. Morris called from behind her, his voice strained with worry. “Think you can get her down before the storm gets worse?”
“Don’t worry,” Willa replied with more confidence than she felt, wiping rain from her eyes. “Geraldine and I have an understanding. She acts like she’s auditioning for Broadway, and I pretend I’m not being outsmarted by a farm animal.”
As if understanding the insult, Geraldine bleated dramatically and rose to take two prancing steps higher on the roof. “Oh, that’s mature,” Willa muttered, wondering again why she’d chosen a profession where success depended on reasoning with creatures who ate tin cans for fun. Beside Willa, Mrs. Morris wrung her hands, exhaustion etched in the deep circles under her eyes. “She’s never done this before,” she said, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her. We were just trying to get her ready.” She swallowed hard. “I hate that I can’t take care of her anymore. Not since Tom’s accident and the medical bills …” Willa’s heart ached. She couldn’t fix everything. She couldn’t heal Mr. Morris’s back or battle the insurance company. But she could make sure Geraldine was cared for. It’s what her father would have done. And what she was about to do, if she could just get this four-legged drama queen off the roof and figure out how she got up there in the first place.
Willa glanced at the rusted-out pickup parked a few feet from the shed, its dented hood now stamped with dainty hoof prints. Well, that explained it. Geraldine might be small, but she clearly had Olympic-level jumping skills. Or maybe she was just picking up on the stress in the Morris household. Goats weren’t exactly known for their emotional depth, but sometimes animals could read a room better than people. And right now, Geraldine’s world was shifting. Her humans were anxious, and the air was thick with uncertainty. All that nervous energy had to go somewhere, and the roof was as good a place as any.
Willa scrubbed a hand down her face and glanced toward the road, where a small group of neighborhood kids had gathered by the fence, their eyes wide with anticipation.
“Five bucks says Dr. Parker has to climb up there,” one of them said.
“No way. She always has a plan.”
“Yeah, remember when she got that raccoon out of the town Christmas tree?”
Willa sighed. The raccoon incident had involved three candy canes, a welding glove, and a standoff that ended with both of them crashing into the nativity scene. It was still the most-watched video on the town of Sunrise’s Facebook page.
“Okay, kids,” she called out. “Pop quiz: Why do goats like to climb?”
Six hands shot up, accompanied by various levels of bouncing. Willa pointed to the smallest girl, whose glasses were too big for her face.
“Because they eat leaves and shrubs, and not just grass,” the girl declared proudly.
“Excellent!” Willa grinned. “Eating off the ground is for peasants. Goats browse at all different heights to see what’s on the buffet. And what’s the best way to convince a browser to come down?”
“Offer something better!” the kids chorused.
Willa reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her secret weapon—a peanut butter sandwich she’d meant to eat hours ago but had gotten too busy to touch.
Geraldine’s ears flicked forward when Willa pulled it from the baggie.
“That’s right. Now, pay attention, because this will be on the test,” Willa said, earning giggles as she arranged a trail of sandwich pieces down the plank she’d propped against the shed. “Sometimes, being a vet means thinking like your patient. Right now, I’m thinking like a goat who won’t lift a hoof without the right caterer.”
Willa’s phone buzzed. The clinic’s number flashed on the screen with a text from her front desk manager, and she could practically hear Aggie’s exasperated voice: Your 4:30 nail trim isn’t going to wait just because you’re sweet-talking a goat. And don’t even think about bringing home more strays. The pens are full, the shed’s bursting, and unless that goat can sleep hanging from the ceiling, we’re out of space.
Rain soaked Willa’s scrubs as she checked her watch. Aggie had handed her a printout of the day’s schedule before she left. She still had to check on Mr. Philby’s elderly poodle, vaccinate Mrs. Norris’s new rescue cat, and, somewhere in between, finish the paperwork to make an offer on the Higgins property.
But she couldn’t just abandon Mrs. Morris and Geraldine. Her dad’s voice echoed in her head. Sometimes the best medi cine is just being there when they need you, Peanut.
He would have loved this—his daughter negotiating with a goat while giving an impromptu science lesson to a bunch of kids. The same kids who now visited the clinic every day after school, just like she used to when he ran it.
“Dr. Parker!” One of the boys pointed. “Look!”
Geraldine had finally decided to make her grand descent, picking her way down the plank as if she’d simply grown bored with the roof, and the timing of Willa’s carefully placed treats was purely coincidental. She paused between each step, making sure everyone fully appreciated the performance.
“Nobody move,” Willa whispered. “Let her think this was entirely her idea.”
Once on solid ground, Geraldine allowed Willa to lead her to the trailer, but not before shooting her a look that clearly said, I’m letting you think you won this one.
As Willa clicked the latch closed, Mrs. Morris touched her arm. “Thank you, Dr. Parker. I know your daddy would be proud of you.”
Willa swallowed against the tightness rising in her throat. Seven years gone, and some days the loss still hit as if it was yesterday. Especially in moments like this, standing in the rain, helping a Sunrise family through a rough patch, the same way he always had. He’d taught her that being a vet wasn’t just about treating animals. It was about looking out for their people too.
“Well, somebody’s got to keep an eye on all of Sunrise’s troublemakers.” She patted the hard side of the trailer, where Geraldine had already settled in and was happily munching on a fresh batch of hay. “And soon we’ll have a proper sanc tuary for all of them.”
The sanctuary had been her father’s dream. It was part clinic, part refuge, and part second chance for any creature that needed his help. Now it was her dream, and she was determined to make it real. She had the vision, the land picked out, and just enough grit to see it through, assuming the universe could give her five uninterrupted minutes without an animal-related emergency.
It wasn’t until she was pulling away that she caught sight of her crumpled schedule on the passenger seat, smudged and soggy from the rain. She glanced in the rearview mirror at her new passenger. “I don’t suppose you’re any good at trimming a poodle’s nails, are you?”
Geraldine didn’t so much as blink.
