Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sickly pallor across Jewel's trembling hands. After several days of working longer hours than normal, her body was betraying her. She gripped the manila folder tighter, willing the muscle weakness to subside.
"You work yourself too hard too fast," Henry said, leaning against the desk, his weathered hands drumming a steady beat. "What's really going on? You didn't tell us about not knowing who Destini's father was. What else aren't you telling me?"
It was the aching vulnerability beneath his gruff tone that made her pause in organizing the files and updating them in the computer system. She leaned back in the chair and tilted her head back, closing her eyes against the burn of tears.
With a heavy sigh, she finally told him the truth. "I picked up Lyme disease somewhere along the way. My bosses wouldn't let me do field work for six months once I got a diagnosis. Then they said I wasn't ever going to go back into the field."
Henry snorted, and her eyes flew open as he crossed his arms and scowled. "Well, that's a dumb thing to do. You're a great field vet. They were just shooting themselves in the foot by saying no."
Warmth filled her at his compliment. "You—you mean that?"
His eyes softened as he smiled, just a soft tilt of his lips. "Yeah, wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. That's why you won't drink Dr. Pepper anymore, isn't it? Or coffee?"
Jewel laughed and nodded, spinning slightly in the chair and crossing her arms to mimic him. She'd always wanted to be just like him, after all.
"Yeah, the specialist in Dallas has helped me make some major lifestyle changes. Changed my diet, which helped lower my inflammation. Started doing yoga to help my joints and flexibility."
He narrowed his eyes. "I haven't seen you do any yoga."
She winced and shrugged. "I keep meaning to go to the yoga studio in town, but keep getting side-tracked with work and Destini and…"
"And Chase," Henry said.
Her cheeks heated, but she simply nodded.
"He treats you well," Henry said, approval apparent in his voice. Her gaze shot to him in surprise, but his poker face never revealed anything.
She tried to control her own face and remain neutral. "So you're okay with us moving in with him?"
"I said as much at the diner, didn't I?"
She chuckled and nodded, moving the mouse on the computer to keep it awake.
"He'll help take care of you, make sure you're not overdoing it with the Lyme. I've had a few talks with him in the past year. We meet every quarter to go over the books. He's good."
Jewel's smile widened. "I never doubted that he'd be good at whatever he chose to do. He's always been a genius, just like Destini."
Henry nodded. "Both passionate, stubborn, and determined to see a project through." He paused, staring across the room as she went back to typing up the file. Her hands still shook more than she'd like, but her heart was lighter now that she'd opened up more with her dad.
He rubbed his chin as he continued. "Chase said in our last meeting that the clinic's numbers are always tight in the winter quarter. We need something to boost community engagement."
Jewel saw her opportunity. Each subtle tremor in her fingers was a reminder of how little she contributed compared to her robust sister. "Do you still do the holiday fundraiser?"
Henry shrugged. "It was more trouble than it was worth, so we stopped a few years back."
Her voice shook with excitement. "I can bring it back. Maybe it's what we need to boost the numbers."
Henry raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? With your health?—"
"I'm more than capable," Jewel interrupted, a sharp edge cutting through her fatigue. "I want to help."
Henry's expression softened, probably recognizing the same stubborn streak that ran through their family's veins. Destini got a double dose of it from both her and Chase. "We'll need solid planning, which you don't have to do alone. You don't have to do any of it alone."
His words hung between them, and Jewel's eyes teared up. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."
He nodded and moved on, back to the topic at hand. "Can you handle the logistics?"
The fluorescent lights seemed to pulse in rhythm with her racing heartbeat. This was her chance to prove she wasn't just the sick daughter, the screw up, the one who struggled to live up to the family legacy. This was her moment to show her worth.
"Absolutely," Jewel said, her spine straightening despite the ache. "I'll make this the best fundraiser this town has ever seen."
Her phone vibrated, breaking the charged moment. She glanced down, seeing Ana's number flashing.
"Jewel?" Ana's voice was high-pitched, bordering on panic. "Mitzy's in labor, and I don't know what to do!"
In the background, she heard Skye's calm voice. "It's completely normal. Cats know exactly what to do."
"But there's so much… liquid," Ana whimpered.
Jewel's professional training kicked in, overriding her physical fatigue. "I'm on my way," she said, grabbing her veterinary bag. She hung up and briefed her dad before heading out the door.
The drive to Ana and Skye's house was a blur of fall leaves and her own measured breathing. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, willing strength into her muscles. Lyme disease might be trying to claim her body, but right now, she had a job to do.
When she arrived, Ana was pacing, her face pale. Skye sat cross-legged near Mitzy, who was nestled in a carefully prepared cardboard box. As Skye and Ana opened the box, Mitzy darted out and into the hallway.
"I'm so sorry to call," Ana said, wringing her hands. "I just don't handle blood, like, at all."
Jewel chuckled and shut the door. "No worries. We all have our strengths. Let's see how the little mama's doing."
Skye turned and noticed Mitzy gone. "Oh, no, where'd she go this time?"
Jewel waved a hand to the hall. "The room on the left."
They all went into the bedroom, the walls full of anime posters and soccer superstars. A soft shuffling from the closet had them all crowding in.
On the messy floor of the closet strewn with shoes was a warm, fuzzy hoodie. Mitzy lay curled on it, mewling loudly. Skye reached for her, but Jewel's hand on her arm stopped her.
"No, wait, she's too close and has clearly picked this for her birthing spot."
"But—my favorite hoodie…" Skye whispered forlornly, making Jewel and Ana chuckle.
Mitzy's mewling grew more intense, her body tensing and relaxing in rhythmic waves. Ana clutched Skye's arm, her eyes wide with a mixture of fascination and terror.
"Should we... do something?" Ana whispered.
Jewel shook her head, her veterinary expertise calm and steady. "She knows exactly what she's doing. We just need to watch and make sure everything goes smoothly."
A tiny sound emerged from beneath Mitzy's body—a soft, high-pitched mew that made Ana gasp. Skye leaned forward, carefully peeling back the edge of her hoodie to reveal a tiny, wet kitten.
"Oh my God," Skye breathed. "It's so small."
Ana leaned forward, then went pale as she gasped. "Oh my God."
Skye's head jerked around, staring wide-eyed at her mom. "Mom, no, you can't?—"
Ana slumped forward, and Jewel wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back. She cushioned Ana's fall to the floor, wincing at the pain in her ass as it hit the floor.
"Shit, I'm so sorry, Dr. Jewel! She can't handle blood," Skye babbled, crawling to them and tugging her mom off Jewel.
"Language," Jewel croaked, rolling onto her side as she wheezed.
"Sorry!" Skye said, shaking her mom's shoulder.
Mitzy continued her labor, seemingly unperturbed by the human drama unfolding around her. Jewel pushed herself up slowly, her muscles protesting a familiar reminder of the Lyme disease's constant undermining. But here, in this moment, she felt strong. Useful. She moved closer to Mitzy, checking the mother cat and her newborns.
Ana stirred, still pale but conscious. "Did I pass out?"
"Spectacularly," Skye said, turning back to the kittens now that Ana was awake. Within minutes, two more kittens joined the first, each one a miniature marvel of life. Mitzy cleaned them methodically.
"What did I miss? Is Mitzy okay?" Ana asked, sitting up and wiping her forehead.
Jewel chuckled, then winced. Her body demanded rest, but her mind was sharp. "They all look healthy. Mitzy's doing an excellent job."
"Five," Skye whispered, counting carefully. "Five kittens."
Ana groaned and laid back on the floor, making Jewel worry until she said, "They're going to eat us out of house and home. Then there are shots and getting them all fixed and—and I thought having one teenager was expensive!"
Jewel chuckled and shifted to standing, stretching the pinch in her back. "We're going to have a holiday fundraiser in December. You can bring them to be adopted then and if you charge an adoption fee, it could cover the cost of shots and spay and neuters. They're beautiful, perfect little kittens. Should have no problem adopting them out."
"Except that one. I want to keep this one!" Skye said, pointing to the smallest of them.
Jewel frowned and warned, "Don't get too attached yet. With big litters, not all babies make it."
Skye's eyes flew to Jewel's, wide and worried. "What can I do to help?"
"Don't touch them. Keep them warm. Mitzy will get up to eat and use the litter box when she's ready, but if you see any of them stop moving or if she sets any of them out of the hoodie, call me."
Skye nodded as Jewel held out a hand to Ana. The woman groaned as Jewel helped her up, her arm aching just from that exertion.
Ana walked her out, saying, "When are you going to come to girls' night yoga? Your daughter hasn't moved in yet, but you should still come. When will she be joining you?"
Jewel winced and nodded as she stopped at the door. "It's complicated, but she should be moving here in November."
Ana's face brightened as she opened the door. "Great, we look forward to meeting her."
As Jewel drove home, her phone vibrated again. This time, it was her sister Gemma.
"Hey, just checking in. How did the kitten delivery go?"
Jewel chuckled, her fingers tapping the steering wheel. "Smooth as silk. Five healthy kittens. Ana fainted, though."
Gemma's laugh crackled through the speaker. "Sounds about right. Listen, I wanted to talk to you about the Holiday Fundraiser. Dad mentioned you're taking point."
"I am," Jewel said, her voice firm despite the fatigue creeping into her muscles. "I've got some ideas that could really boost community engagement."
"Just… promise me you'll pace yourself," Gemma said, her tone shifting from sisterly to professional. "The Lyme?—"
"I know my limits," Jewel replied softly, grateful to have a sister who loved her. A smile flickered across her face. Her muscles ached, a familiar warning from her Lyme disease that she'd pushed too hard today. But watching those kittens being born, helping Ana and Skye—it felt good. Meaningful.
Gemma sighed. "Fine, but don't come crying to me when?—"
Jewel laughed, refusing to give in to the worry. Destini was finally moving to town, and they were going to be a big, happy family. Her smile froze, then slowly fell as she shook her head. "I'm going to help the Williams' this week with the Halloween party. Consider it a trial run for the fundraiser."
Gemma sighed, then asked if she could swing by the Peterson place on her way back to the office. She briefed Jewel on the situation there and hung up just as Jewel pulled into their long drive.
The Peterson farm loomed ahead, its weathered fences and overgrown fields a testament to years of struggle. Jewel pulled her truck to a stop, her muscles already protesting the additional work. She grabbed the veterinary bag and clipboard, taking a moment to breathe deeply before stepping out.
Old man Peterson stood near the barn, his lined face turned toward her as she approached. His wife, Margaret, hovered in the doorway, wringing her hands.
"Jewel," Peterson called, his voice gravelly. "We've got trouble with the livestock."
She nodded, her professional demeanor sliding into place despite the fatigue. "What seems to be the problem?"
She followed them into the quiet barn. The barn smelled of hay and something sour—infection, Jewel realized immediately. Three newborn calves lay in a makeshift pen, their coats dull and their eyes not even flickering to her as she neared. She looked around for the mamas but saw nothing.
"Can you handle this?" Mr. Peterson drawled. "I'm not sure you're focused with all the personal issues I've heard about town."
Margaret swatted at his shoulder, but Jewel tried to ignore him. The Petersons watched her. She could feel their skeptical gazes, measuring her against her family's legacy.
Jewel kept her hands steady while sorting medical supplies where she kneeled on the barn floor, refusing to let her nerves show. Her Lyme disease made every movement a calculated effort, but she'd be damned if she'd show weakness. She would make her family proud.
"Clearly they have an infection. I can assess and treat them, or you can wait until my sister or dad are available—and possibly lose them. It's your herd, your call."
When she finished speaking, she paused and looked up at them both. They glanced at each other, and Margaret wrung her hands. "Please, help them if you can."
Jewel nodded. "I'll do all I can."
Jewel kneeled beside the first calf, her trained fingers probing gently. Its breathing was shallow, labored. She pulled out her stethoscope, listening carefully to its lungs and heart. "Pneumonia, most likely the aggressive strain that has been making the rounds since that big rain. Where are the mothers?" she asked, her voice crisp and professional.
Peterson shifted uncomfortably. "Margaret quarantined them in the back pasture. Thought it might help prevent spread."
A smart move, though potentially too late. Jewel pulled out her notebook, jotting down initial observations. Each movement cost her energy, but she refused to show weakness. These calves needed her.
"I'll need blood samples," she muttered, preparing her kit. "And we'll need to start aggressive antibiotics immediately."
Margaret hovered close, her worry clear as she asked, "Can you save them?"
Her hands, despite the tremors of her Lyme disease, remained steady as she drew blood samples. Years of training and determination overrode the physical limitations her body tried to impose. Each movement was calculated, precise.
"There're no promises with health." The words rang with truth, and her lips twisted at the irony. "But let me get these blood samples back to the clinic. Give me an hour to confirm, then I'll swing back by with the antibiotics. I'll give them a general antibiotic now, but if it's the type I think it is, they'll need another dose every few hours until they start to eat. We'll know if they'll make it by tomorrow."
Peterson grunted, a sound that might have been approval or skepticism. Jewel ignored him, focusing on preparing the antibiotics. She calculated dosages carefully, her medical training sharp despite her physical fatigue. When she was done, she carefully packed the samples into her bag and stood with a groan.
"You alright, dear?" Margaret asked, coming forward to help.
Jewel waved her off with a pinched smile. "Fine, just my joints acting up with this cooler weather."
"I hear that," Peterson snorted as they walked out of the barn.
Her muscles ached from the repetitive motion, a dull reminder of her body's current limitations. She wiped her forehead with the back of her gloved hand and stepped out of the barn, the crisp fall air cutting through her flannel shirt.