"Rabbit?" I repeated inanely as I watched Ernie pour blood and water into the glass.

"Yes," said Oswald. "It's nice for a beginner. Not too strong." He was right. It did taste lighter and more, well, quaffable. It was the type of drink you might serve at brunch.

Which reminded me to say to Oswald, "I thought you said you ate a lot of vegetables. You didn't mention blood."

Oswald's gray eyes were dark and mysterious in the dim light. He put his finger to the side of his mouth. "You've got a spot there."

I ran my forefinger over my lips and found the wayward drop, and I sucked hungrily at my finger until I realized that all the men were staring at me. "How long were you going to keep this from me?" I looked from one to another. "Winnie, why didn't you tell me about this?"

She was polite enough to look discomfited. "I didn't know how you'd react. Remember I asked you if you'd been eating anything odd? You said no."

"Uh, I think I said something about steak tartare," I muttered, trying to dress up my culinary crimes.

"We didn't consider it to be pertinent information since you had not disclosed your own inclination," Sam said. "We wanted to avoid causing you any undue emotional distress."

I liked how he was always so polite even when he was caught chugging livestock blood in the middle of the night.

It's funny how you can be disgusted by something but disappointed it's over. My heart fell when Ernie put the corks back in the bottles and said, "I'm beat. Let's call it a night."

"Lovely selection, Ernesto," said Edna, standing and patting his shoulder. "Oswald's right. You're an artist." She then gazed at me. "Young lady, stop looking like someone stole your jelly donut. You may join us from now on."

We left Ernie, Gabriel, and Oswald in the barn to put things away. Our feet crunched on the gravel path back to the house, but I felt as if I was floating, encased in a bubble of general warm fuzziness. Sam took Edna's arm to guide her through the darkness, and I fell in step beside Winnie. "I don't understand how Ernie got involved in this."

"It's our custom to have a trusted non-family member harvest and blend the product."

"Why do you take that risk? Why don't you do it yourselves?"

"Can't you guess?"

"Because a family member would drink the whole thing and wouldn't care about the earthy notes or the hint of raspberry."

"Yes, exactly. Hard to believe but in the old days, someone would just cut the throat of a chicken, drain the blood into a bucket, and pass it around. Can you imagine?"

I didn't say, well, ain't we civilized. "So that's what bothered the Old World neighbors?"

"That's the least of it," Winnie said. "The essence is that our family's village broke off an alliance with their village. At the time, both groups were continuing some pagan practices while others were fighting over Eastern and Western religion. It's ancient history."

Edna and Winnie went upstairs, but Sam lingered in the kitchen with me. "I want to be sure you feel all right about this," he said, and placed his hand solicitously on my shoulder.

I again felt a frisson from his contact. "I don't suppose it's any worse than eating meat." I thought I could hear our hearts beating, the blood flowing in our veins, our lungs inhaling and exhaling. Then footsteps sounded in the dining room. We jumped apart just as Winnie came into the kitchen.

"Oh," she said, looking at us. "I was just getting some juice."

"That sounds great," Sam said too enthusiastically. "Would you like juice, Mil?"

A glass of OJ was not going to satisfy any of my cravings. "Thanks, no."

Winnie got the glasses, poured juice, and handed one to him.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Are you coming up to bed now?" she said to him in a soft: voice.

The evening had distorted my perceptions; her innocent comment sounded suggestive. Sam nodded and followed her. Our "good night's" echoed in the empty rooms.

Chapter Twenty-two

little fictions

The next morning I showered and wore my new red silk bra and panties under the black skirt and the burgundy sweater. I was trying to think of myself as sexy and sophisticated instead of being horrified that I was a blood-quaffing freak. I sashayed out of my room and walked smack-dab into Oswald.

He was so close that I could smell his minty-fresh toothpaste breath. He wore a soft suede blazer and coffee-colored slacks. I thought that he must spend his entire meager paycheck on clothes.

"Good, you're up," he said. "Do you think you could help at the clinic today?"

"I don't know anything about animals," I said, hoping to escape this request. His shirt was open at the neck and I imagined I could see the pulse at the base of his throat.

"You don't need to know anything about animals," he said, and a smile crept on his face. "The receptionist has a personal emergency and all you have to do is answer the phones and try to make the clients relax. I'd really appreciate it."

He looked so earnest and handsome that I forgot he was Oswald for a second and I did what I usually do when an earnest, handsome guy asks me for something: I said yes. "I suppose I can toss them kibble if they get cranky?"

"That'll do the trick," Oswald said, and I could see he was relieved. "We can have breakfast there."

Previous As we left, we ran into Sam, and Oswald told him, "Milagro is helping me out at the clinic today. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Sam smiled nervously at this hackneyed attempt at banter.

We took the midsize sedan that I had first assumed was Edna's and the radio came on to National Public Radio. Oswald said, "You choose," and I fiddled with the tuner until I found a funk oldies song. Too late I heard the blatantly sexual lyrics and chorus of moans, so I just left it where it was.

Clearing my throat, I said awkwardly, "I'm sure your experience at the clinic will help you get into vet school."

"Milagro, your confidence warms the cockles of my heart."

We drove over the mountain and I asked a question that had long been on my mind. "Oswald, do you always speak suggestively or is it just me?"

He flashed a bright smile. "It's just you."

For the rest of the ride, we sat in silence while the radio spewed seductive songs about doing the horizontal hokey-pokey. We drove through the quaint town where I'd seen Kathleen, passing a large animal hospital, to an unmarked modern building off the main street. Oswald drove behind the building into a reserved parking space.

"Doesn't the clinic have a sign?" I asked.

"The clients like their privacy." He led me into the lobby of the building, then unlocked a door and held it open for me. It wasn't until I was passing through that I saw the discreet copper nameplate, "Oswald K. Grant, MD."

I stopped short and he bumped into me. I pointed at the nameplate and said, "Oswald, what the hell does this mean?"

Oswald was laughing as he said, "M.D., me doctor."

"You jackass! Why have you been telling me you want to be a vet?"

"You were so devoted to the idea, I couldn't bear to disappoint you."

I would have yelled at him further, but a pleasant-looking older woman with a fluff of dyed blond hair and silver glasses came through the lobby door. "Good morning, Dr. Grant."

"Morning, Mrs. Walintiny." Oswald took my elbow and pulled me into his offices. He flipped on the lights and punched in the code on a security system revealing a simple but elegant waiting room. "This is Milagro. She's going to work the front desk today. Susie's out on a family matter."

"Nice to meet you, Milagro," she said. "Thanks for helping."

"Nice to meet you, too, Mrs..." I faltered on her last name.

"Walintiny," she said, and winked. She lifted a paper bag and said to Oswald, "I brought your favorite muffins."

"You're a queen among women," he answered. "I'll put on the coffee. Would you mind showing Milagro the phones?"

When he went down the hall, Mrs. Walintiny stared openly at me, head to foot. "No work done on you, right? I can tell every time. Great boobies by the way."

"Thanks. Some people think the real ones are trashy."She chuckled. "They're just jealous. I wish I had my real one back." She puffed out her chest to show me her tidy bazooms.

"Had one removed 'cause of breast cancer. Couldn't ask for better replacement than the one the doc gave me, but I still miss old floppy."

"Oh," I said as realization dawned. "Oswald's a plastic surgeon?"

"One of the best. 'Course, I may be biased."

She showed me how the phones and intercom worked and what the schedule was. "It'll be pretty easy today," she said. "Just consultations, but they get real nervous, so it's nice to listen to them and help them relax."

Oswald returned with a mug of coffee and a carrot-zucchini muffin on a platter. I gave him a look of pure viciousness and he said, "Milagro is a very sympathetic girl. She'll be fine."

And, apart from accidentally hanging up on a few people, I was. Mrs. Walintiny checked on me frequently, chatting about this and that, asking if I knew Dr. Harding. "She's a lovely person," I said. "Very dedicated and admirable."

"A real catch," said Mrs. Walintiny. "Especially with that nose Oswald gave her. It makes her whole face."

It figured. I imagined myself standing in front of Oswald in old-lady panties while he marked up all the imperfect parts of my body with a red pen. "I suppose he could find something wrong with anybody's body," I said.

"No, sweetie, she was the one who insisted. Oswald likes variety, but lots of people just aren't happy with themselves. Not everyone can be like you."

When she saw my confusion, she explained, "They're trying to get on the outside what you got oozing out from the inside."

Putting her hands on her chubby hips, she said, "Honey, you're walking sex."

"I think I'd rather be taken seriously," I said.

Mrs. Walintiny laughed so hard, tears rolled down her face. She eventually managed to say, "Learn to use it, sweetie, and enjoy it while it lasts."

I expected the clients to be like my mother Regina and Kathleen Baker, but they were a mixed bunch. A widower told me that he wanted to get the bags under his eyes removed so he could start dating again. A teen wanted to fix an ear damaged in an accident, and a woman came in determined to improve the chin she'd always hated. An executive type joked that she'd risen to the top of her field and she needed her breasts to go with her.

The Oswald I saw today was not the flirty oddball from Kathleen's party or the aimless slacker at the ranch. He spent an hour on the phone trying to find someone to assist an indigent patient; he sat on the floor with a toddler who had a cleft palate; and he treated Mrs. Walintiny and me to burgers.

With some patients he teased to make them relax, and with others he was all professionalism. In fact, he reminded me of Sam, and now I understood why Winnie wanted to marry him.

The joke was on me: I had never even been in Oswald's league.

Chapter Twenty-three

tequila mockingbird

I took my typewriter outside to write. I could enjoy the garden while Daisy lazed at my feet and Petunia pecked, scratched, and chirped in a way that I found endlessly amusing.

Edna would occasionally stop by the table and offer helpful advice, like "I hope you proofread," and "You've spilled ice tea on your blouse."

Gabriel left that evening to fly to Washington on business. He collected my forgeries and said, "I'm bringing you back something rare and wonderful, Mil, something you'll appreciate."

"I'm going to miss you, honey buns."

"Sometimes I worry about you, Milagro. But then I think that you're more resourceful than anybody realizes." He gave me a strong hug and a big kiss, then made me laugh by dancing out of the room, singing "I Will Survive."

Ernie had rescued a fawn whose mother had been hit by a truck. I'd found this event touching until I found out why he had taken in the animal. That night, as I drank Bambi's blood, I caught Ernie gazing at me and I thought there was disappointment in his eyes. It was gone in a second, hidden behind his good of boy grin.

Winnie and I were the last ones to leave the barn and she said to me, "It's balmy enough for a swim."

"Great idea." We found a few one-piece suits in the changing room by the pool. Mine was blue with pink starfish and hers was yellow with daisies and ruching.

There was a console of buttons on one wall. Winnie pushed the one labeled "roof" and the panels above us slid open, revealing the sky spangled with stars. Then Winnie selected a movie sound track to play on the sound system. Her choice of sappy strings and melodramatic yodeling made her seem almost like a regular girl.

She dived right into the pool, but I did a lot of toe dipping before finally jumping in. After a few minutes of thrashing, I discovered that the water felt splendid. While Winnie swam precise laps up and down the pool, I practiced underwater handstands and somersaults.

I grabbed an inner tube and kicked lazily, enjoying the evening breeze, twinkly sky, and residual warmth of fresh blood in my body. Winnie finished her laps and reached for an inflatable mat.

She said, "You know, Milagro, I'm glad you're here."