30
Jordan carried the dog into an exam room that Yoli had hurried to turn into an operating room before their arrival. She was excited, she said, to assist with her first-ever surgery.
Jesse removed his coat and carefully unfastened the sling. Then he unbuttoned his cuffs and Clara helped him roll his sleeves up above the elbow so that he could scrub in.
“Be careful,” she cautioned, feeling uneasy about his shoulder.
“It’ll be fine. The sling was just a precaution. See if you can get Dr. Ochoa on the phone.”
She couldn’t; the livestock vet was an hour away dealing with a foot-and-mouth outbreak, and he didn’t believe in cell phones. She could, however, get her mother on the line.
“Jesse is going to operate on a border collie?” Dr. Wilder repeated thoughtfully. “How unusual.”
“She’s just the sweetest, most pathetic thing,” Clara said around the lump in her throat. She tried to clear it, muttering, “I’m a total wreck. This is so unprofessional.”
“He must be optimistic about her chances if he was willing to do the surgery.”
“No, he said she’s dying,” Clara admitted. “Anyway, do you have any advice?”
“I think,” she said slowly, “I’m going to come in today.”
“What? Really?”
“I’ll see you in half an hour.”
“Thanks, Mom!” she exclaimed, overcome with relief.
Clara put the phone down and gulped in air, willing her tears to recede. She hadn’t started sobbing yet, at least, but it was a distinct possibility if she couldn’t get it together.
Jesse appeared in the doorway. “Dr. Ochoa?”
“Unreachable.”
“Did you reschedule our early appointments?”
“No, I’m on it,” she said quickly.
“The dog’s under,” he told her. “Pain-free, for now.”
Against her will, her eyes refilled, and she nodded rather than risk speaking. Jesse took one look at her and vanished down the hall again. She laughed shakily, and snatched up a Kleenex to wipe her eyes.
“Okay, appointments,” she told herself bracingly, and cleared her throat again before picking up the phone.
She was perfectly composed by the time her parents arrived, and while her mother let herself into the operating room, her father brought in a large dog crate.
“Did you borrow that from Aunt Liesl?”
“Uh, huh. She’s loaning you a leash and a water bowl, and she threw in a few cans of wet food.”
“Oh, great. I was thinking I’d have to go buy those on my lunch break.”
“She said they know the dog’s owner, a neighbor of theirs. She called him up. Guy’s willing to pay to have the dog euthanized, but otherwise doesn’t want anything to do with it. Said it must have found a hole in the fence.”
“So, I can keep her?” Clara asked in surprise.
He stared at her. “Do you want her?”
“Yeah,” she realized. “Yes. What’s her name?”
“He didn’t say.”
“I’ll think of a good one. Oh, my gosh, Anthropologie has the cutest dog collars,” she remembered suddenly, turning to her computer. “I’ll get her a pink one.”
“Might want to wait and see if she comes out of surgery.”
“No way, I’m manifesting it,” she answered.
“In that case, guess I better ride fence. Been awhile since we had a dog.”
She looked up with a smile. “Thanks, Dad.” He looked so dependable and lovable, she thought, standing there next to the big crate. She had a sudden thought. “Did you watch the security footage from out there, around six o’clock last night?”
“No.”
“Well, don’t,” she advised.
He sighed faintly.
She grinned at what constituted a fairly dramatic reaction from him. “Don’t sigh at me. You’re lucky to have me, you know. I could have been another Hart.”
“Hart’s all right.”
She laughed, and he cracked a brief smile. There was probably no one on earth who could improve her mood like this guy could.
Well, the guy in surgery was pretty good at it, too.
“Jesse’s been in there almost an hour. I wish I knew how it was going.”
“Sometimes no news is good news,” the Colonel said.