Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
I smile as I watch the two of them. “You okay out here?” Vicki’s at school today, and my parents have split babysitting duty. Mom’s on watch now so my father can have his afternoon nap.
She sets her glasses on the desk. Without them on, the wrinkles around her eyes are far more noticeable. “I don’t know how I did this job while chasing you and Liz around here all those years ago. I suppose I am almost forty years older.”
Forty years older, with arthritis working its way through her joints and a slight hunch in her back. Sometimes I worry that we’re asking too much of her, even putting in just a few hours a day behind the desk. “Have you heard from Mrs. Perkins?”
“Yes! Just now. The puppies were born, and she wants to bring them in for a checkup.”
“How’s she handling it?”
“Okay, I think. All three lived. She’s got some help from her neighbor’s kids, and Bob in his wig”—she snickers—“but she’s already asking how soon we can find homes for them, so take that for what it’s worth. Now, who else, let me see …” She slides her glasses back on.
Molly dives for them again.
“Come here you.” I collect my niece off Mom’s lap and tuck her against my side, flashing her an exaggerated smile that earns one in return. She’s warm and soft and smells of a freshly changed diaper and the rice crackers she’s been gnawing on. Drool trickles over her bottom lip to collect on her bib. “Here, what’s this?” I press the end of my stethoscope against her chest, drawing her attention to it for the moment.
Mom reads through her handwritten notes that she’ll transfer to the computer—it’s faster this way, she insists. They’re mostly old clients with new puppies, which is always exciting for me. Nothing critical. No euthanasia.
She slides off her glasses to look at me, her expression tempered with concern. “Tyler called.”
My chest tightens. “And?” I brace for the inevitable.
“The puppies need deworming, Airi might have sprained his hind leg, and”—she squints at her sheet—“Pope got into a fight with Sleet. He needs a few stitches.”
“Oh.” I guess I’m still his veterinarian after all. A surge of emotions erupts—dread, longing, annoyance.
Mom’s brow furrows. She was the first to figure out something wasn’t right. I gave her the standard “we’re just friends” line that I’ve given everyone, though we’re not even that anymore, and went about my day. Thankfully, Mom has never been one to push too hard for information. But I’ve also been conveniently busy with “emergencies” over the last two Sunday dinners, knowing that a single wrong word from Jim or Liz might break me.
“Honey, I don’t know what happened between you two, but—”
“Did you book the appointment?” I pull the end of my stethoscope away from Molly’s mouth just before she has a chance to soothe her sore gums on it.
“I said I’d have to check with you first, but that you might be able to come out tonight, if it wasn’t an emergency, and he said that would be fine.”
“Okay. Confirm with him. Thank you.” I shift my focus to the baby in my arms, seeking comfort in her innocence for another moment, before shuttling her to my mother and getting back to work.
* * *
Tyler’s truck is absent when I pull up to his place.
It’s both a relief and a frustration. I don’t have to swallow my feelings and put up a front for the sake of professionalism, but at the same time, part of me aches for a confrontation.
Nymeria and Tank trot out of the barn to meet me. Reed appears moments later, dragging his boots in his typical lazy walk, poly rope dangling from his hand.
I smile despite my unfriendly mood. “You have Nymeria in a harness.”
“Yeah. Ty said to try her out.” He pushes his hair to the side with his free hand. “I’ve been doing some training with her. She’s takin’ to it.”
“How are the pups?”
“Bigger.” He nods toward a paddock. “I got Pope in there.”
“When did it happen?”
“This morning. He’s walkin’ fine and I cleaned him up, but his leg looks pretty bad.” He shakes his head. “I turned around for one minute and the dumb dog wandered over. He knows better than to mess with Sleet. Lucky it didn’t end up worse.”
“We’ll get him fixed up.” Hopefully without needing to bring him to the clinic.
“Yeah.” But Reed worries his bottom lip. I’ll bet he hates that this happened on his watch. Tyler did say he takes his role here seriously.
“You know, I’ve met a lot of handlers over the years, but I’ve never met one as good as you.” I keep my focus ahead as Reed walks alongside me deeper into the barn, but from the corner of my eye, I catch his grin of satisfaction.