Take a Chance

by D. Jackson Leigh

  “Uh, no. I cleared the day. Alice didn’t want to tell anyone before tomorrow’s ultrasound confirms everything is okay, but I’m about to bust with the news. We’re pregnant.”

  “That’s fantastic, Joe.” Trip was truly happy for him. The couple had been trying for years, and Alice had already suffered through two early miscarriages.

  “Yeah. I thought I’d surprise her afterward by taking her to Savannah for lunch and an afternoon of shopping for baby stuff.”

  “I’ll make other arrangements. Alice deserves your full attention.”

  “Hold on.” The faint clicking of a keyboard came over the truck’s speakers. “Let me check one thing. …Yes. Weather report says clear skies tomorrow. Why don’t you just fly my plane?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I know we haven’t instrument certified you yet, but that shouldn’t be an issue as long as you get back before dark. I’ll leave the keys to the Cessna at the airport office for you.”

  “You’re the best, Joe. Thanks, and good luck tomorrow. You hoping for a girl or a boy?”

  “Just hoping for a healthy baby,” he said.

  Trip’s next call was to Grace.

  “Booker.”

  Trip laughed, her mood light with the prospect of spending the next day with Jamie. “You really should answer with your entire name because when you bark ‘Booker,’ it almost sounds like ‘Booger.’”

  Grace chuckled. “Only you would think something like that. You sound happy today.”

  “The fate of my exuberance is in your hands.”

  “Not literally, I hope. I think I’ve heard you use that line on Shayla before.”

  Trip loved Grace’s sharp wit. “No. But I do have a favor to ask.”

  “How may I serve you?”

  “It’s hard to pass on a setup like that, but this is serious. Can you clear Jamie’s schedule tomorrow?”

  There was a second of hesitation. “You know I love you, pal, but I can’t shuffle the work assignments just so you can woo one of my officers.”

  “This is concerning the health of one of your officers. I want her and Petunia to fly with me to Athens for a consult and MRI at the vet school.”

  “You should’ve led with that. I’ll absolutely clear her schedule, even if I have to cover for her myself.”

  “Great. I’ll call and give her the details.”

  “Tell her to swing by the department before six thirty. I’ll give her a department credit card to take care of the expenses. The forfeiture funds we’ll get from the feds for that big drug bust she and Petunia pulled off will more than cover Petunia’s medical bills.”

  “Great. I’ll do what I can to get you a break on the cost.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jamie lifted Petunia down from the truck and looked up to see Trip emerge from an industrial metal building next to a three-story structure she figured was the control tower. Three County Airport was bigger than she’d expected. A few dozen small planes and several small jets lined up next to two huge hangers.

  “Ready to fly?” Trip asked.

  Jamie squinted behind her dark aviator sunglasses. She’d just changed to second shift and climbed in bed at one thirty only to rise four hours later. Her eyes rebelled at too little sleep and the bright, cloudless day. “Sure. Which plane is ours?”

  “Joe had them taxi out his best plane for us. That sweet Cessna 400.” Trip pointed at a sleek, low wing aircraft. “It should get us to the Athens airport in about an hour, including pre-flight and landing time.” She hopped up onto the wing extending from the passenger side, opened the door, and folded over the front seat to give access to the rear two seats. “Hand Petunia to me while you hop up here.”

  Jamie shifted her hand to Petunia’s hindquarters when she yelped at a hand under her stomach. “Sorry, girl.” Jamie lifted her into Trip’s waiting hands. “She’s getting really tender in her abdomen.” That tenderness had increased over the past few days, so Jamie was relieved that Trip had been able to arrange the excursion to the vet school so quickly.

  “No problem.” Trip expertly held Petunia against her side with one arm and extended her hand.

  Jamie ignored it and leapt onto the wing and stuck her head in the plane to check it out. She’d ridden in some armored military vehicles that had even less space for passengers, and those vehicles certainly didn’t have plush leather seats like this plane. A thick dog bed was in the seat behind the pilot’s seat, with a harness attached to the seat belt. “This is great.” She climbed in and held out her hands for Petunia.

  “When Joe is transporting packages rather than passengers, he takes his dog with him. I told him we were on a veterinary mission, so he had the guys put Muddy’s flying setup in for Petunia. They’re about the same size so the harness should fit.”

  Petunia turned one circle after Jamie secured the harness and curled up in the bed, wagging her tail and expelling several tiny farts. Jamie started to settle into the seat next to her, but Trip waved her out of the plane. “What?”

  Trip unfolded the front seat. “You sit here. You’ll still be able to see each other.”

  Jamie peered at Trip. “Where are you going to sit?”

  Trip pointed to the other front seat.

  “That’s the pilot’s seat.”

  Trip pointed to her own chest. “Pilot.”

  “Seriously?” Jamie had no idea why that stupidly thrilled her.

  “Yep. I’ve had my license for nearly ten years. Joe is a certified instructor and traded out veterinary services for lessons.”

  Jamie climbed into the plane and watched Trip walk around the plane and mark things down on a clipboard she’d pulled from the messenger bag slung over her shoulder, before joining them in the cockpit. Jamie was so mesmerized by Trip’s methodical instrument check and conversation with the tower, that they were speeding down the runway before she had time to mentally prepare herself for the liftoff. It felt more like soaring than the disembodied elevator feeling of a large plane. Smooth. She liked it. What would it cost for her to take flying lessons?

  “Okay. Keep your eyes peeled for other aircraft. We don’t want to collide with anyone.”

  “What?” Jamie frantically scanned the horizon. What if she missed something?

  “Just kidding.”

  Jamie stared out the window. “Always the jokester.” She turned her head, in case she lost her hold on the smile that threatened. Fooling each other with little tricks had been a game they played constantly in college. It would be so easy to forget everything that had happened and fall back into the easy connection they’d had before. Before that night. Trip seemed to sense Jamie’s mood shift. Silence stretched between them.

  After a while, Trip spoke as softly as possible to be heard over the hum of the engine. “We’ll figure this out, Jamie.”

  Jamie looked over at her. She wasn’t sure she understood Trip’s meaning.

  “Petunia. We’ll figure out what’s wrong with her, and if it’s medically possible, fix it.”

  Jamie nodded…because the possibility of losing Petunia choked off any words she would have said.

  Trip slipped her fingers around Jamie’s forearm and squeezed slightly. “I want us to figure out the rest, too.”

  Jamie didn’t reply or nod this time. She turned her face away instead and stared out the window. Could she let go of the grudge she’d guarded all these years?

  * * *

  “Good afternoon. We have a special case this morning.” Professor Harrell gestured to Trip, Jamie, and Petunia standing behind him. “Accompanying me today is Dr. Beaumont, one of my most outstanding former students who made a name for herself as a veterinary surgeon in Atlanta before returning to her roots and opening a mixed practice in South Georgia. With her is Deputy Jamie Grant and her detection dog, Petunia.”

  The control room of the magnetic resonance imaging machine was crowded with five senior students, the three of them, and Petunia. Still, Trip was fi
lled with nostalgic memories of the time she spent absorbing everything Professor Harrell could teach her.

  The professor lowered his chin to glare over his reading glasses at a late arrival who shuffled to the rear of the group. “Mr. Adcock, your emailed instructions were specific—no lab coats. Should I have sent a note to your mother instead?”

  “Sorry, Dr. Harrell.” The young man shed the offending coat, bunched it up, and tossed it into the hallway. Trip wanted to laugh. She’d forgotten how intimidating the faculty could be until you were at least third year.

  Professor Harrell shook his head but continued. “Since this is Dr. Beaumont’s case, I’ll let her present the symptoms and test results to date.” He stepped back so Trip could address the group.

  “Our subject’s background is sketchy. When Deputy Grant obtained her from a local kill shelter, she was told that Petunia had once been part of an unknown medical research project, then lived with a college student for a year or two before being turned into the shelter by the student’s parents. The shelter was advised that she had a history of gastroenteritis that classified her as having special needs. The shelter staff also documented symptoms of alternating constipation and diarrhea, and extensive flatulence.”

  Petunia demonstrated said flatulence as though adding an exclamation point to Trip’s recitation.

  “Good grief,” one male student muttered as the sharp odor of intestinal gas filled the room.

  “Mr. Tillman, you are excused,” Professor Harrell barked.

  The student opened his mouth to protest, but the professor’s glare silenced him. They waited as Tillman left.

  “I apologize for the interruption, Dr. Beaumont. Please continue,” he said. “Deputy Grant, if you and Petunia could come with me, we will need to administer a light anesthesia to keep her still for the MRI.”

  Trip gave Jamie’s hand a squeeze when she hesitated. “Don’t worry. He’s the best. I’ll join you guys in a minute or two.”

  Jamie nodded and followed the professor.

  “Can anyone tell me what Tillman missed while he was being extremely unprofessional by complaining in front of the client?”

  A tall, lanky student at the back tentatively raised his hand, then responded when Trip nodded at him.

  “Without seeing a stool sample, I’d guess that I smell undigested food and a faint metallic odor that could be blood. I don’t smell infection, like a rotted bowel.”

  Trip smiled. “What’s your background, Mr.—”

  “Upchurch, ma’am. I mean, Dr. Beaumont. I grew up working on my daddy’s hog farm.”

  “Your observation was very good, Mr. Upchurch. When evaluating a patient, a good veterinarian uses all of his or her senses to collect information, not just lab work.

  Trip recited the results of Petunia’s lab tests, encouraged the students to quiz her about the patient’s symptoms, prompted them on the questions they didn’t ask, and discussed diagnostic tests that could narrow down the problem.

  “Very good. Our preliminary findings are indicative of a mass or tumor somewhere in the digestive tract. Because her symptoms have escalated in recent weeks and she is a valuable working canine, we’ve opted to skip over some of the less expensive diagnostics and perform an MRI. This test could take more than an hour, so it’s a good time for a quick bathroom break while we ready the patient.”

  Several of the students took her advice and headed for the hallway while Trip joined Jamie who was watching Professor Harrell and the MRI tech. Petunia was already asleep, snoring as the tech positioned her on the MRI’s sliding bed.

  Jamie’s face was tight, her jaw working as she spoke through clenched teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me that you suspected a tumor?”

  The MRI tech shot Trip an apologetic look. “I always leave the intercom open when I’m in here so I’ll hear if anyone walks into the control room.”

  Trip wrapped her arm around Jamie’s shoulders and held tight when Jamie tried to shrug her off. “Because I knew you would instantly expect the worst. Every dog or cat owner does. I didn’t tell you on the way here because I didn’t want you to worry until we knew there was something to worry about. Besides, Petunia would sense if you were upset, and that would upset her.”

  “Let’s keep an open mind, shall we, until we see the MRI results,” Professor Harrell said calmly.

  * * *

  Several hours later, they were flying back to Pine Cone. Trip hadn’t protested when Jamie kept the very groggy Petunia in her lap, rather than secure her in the back seat. When they boarded, Trip busied herself with the preflight checklist, but wasn’t surprised when she set their cruise speed and looked over to see tears streaking down Jamie’s cheeks. She wanted to cry in relief, too, when the MRI showed a tumor nearly blocking where the stomach empties into the small intestine, but the margins appeared clear. Petunia was immediately taken to a surgery suite where Trip assisted Dr. Harrell in performing laproscopic removal of the tumor.

  “Hey, she’s going to be okay. She’ll be on a liquid diet for a few days, then soft foods for a while before she’ll be able to digest much fiber. But once the surgery site heals, she’ll be better than she ever was. I’m not sure why this wasn’t detected before. Maybe the tumor hadn’t grown large enough. Still, an MRI should have shown something.”

  Jamie turned her face away. “They all wanted to do other tests first that almost drained my savings, and the program she was in wanted to send her back to the shelter and pick another healthier dog. So we quit the program and got certified on our own. I had my army disability pay to live on, and I planned to save up enough after I got here to try another specialist.”

  “Well, you two just saw the best veterinarian in this state. I’m just glad he’s headed out of the country tomorrow or I probably wouldn’t have been able to talk him out of keeping her there overnight in case of any complications from the surgery.”

  “I didn’t want to leave her there. She’s been left behind too many times by people she trusted.”

  Understanding hit like a smack to Trip’s forehead. Jamie never knew her father, was lost among the crowd of foster children her mother took in for extra income, dumped by her college girlfriend, then tossed out of the army after being injured, and shown the door by the “Shelter to Working Dog” program because she wouldn’t give up Petunia. She wanted more than anything to pull Jamie into her arms and reassure her, but the confines of the plane and the fact that she was the pilot didn’t allow it. Instead, she tried to reach out with words.

  “I understand.”

  Jamie snorted. “How can you—a rich, privileged white girl?”

  Trip tamped down the anger rising in her chest. “You’re right that I haven’t lived through what you and Petunia have experienced. But that only meant I didn’t have the experience to shield my heart against the pain of having your best friend walk out of your life without a word…without even a good-bye.”

  “Grace and Clay are your best friends.”

  Trip chewed on that for several silent seconds, her anger draining away with the hurt she heard in Jamie’s words. “Clay and Grace have been my very good friends since we were kids. But you were special, Jamie. Our connection was different.”

  Petunia whimpered in her sleep, and Jamie stroked her back to reassure her. “It’s okay, P. I’m right here.” She stared out the window but continued to stroke Petunia’s wiry coat. “I don’t want to talk about this now. We’re upsetting her.”

  “Will we talk about it later?”

  Jamie hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. We’ll talk later. I owe you that after all you’ve done for us today.”

  “I wanted to help.” Trip reached over to brush her fingertips along Petunia’s back, like she wanted to trail them down Jamie’s cheek. Instead, she offered Jamie a smile. “Besides it’s been too long since I’ve had a chance to visit with Professor Harrell. He’s excited about Joe flying him down next month to see my clinic and stay a few days to review a couple of my inte
resting cases. He loves teaching but enjoys getting outside the university occasionally.”

  “I hope Grace will give me a week off to take care of Petunia until she recovers.”

  Trip was relieved to feel the tension in the plane’s cabin dial down. “Are you kidding? As much income as you two have added to the sheriff’s budget? Grace says she’s redecorating her office from the slush fund that’s overflowing with my parking fines.”

  Jamie smiled for the first time since they’d touched down at

  the Athens airport. “You wouldn’t get tickets if you would park properly.”

  “What? How else can I keep reminding you that I’m around?”

  How indeed.

  * * *

  Jamie followed Trip from the airport to the clinic. Petunia was awake and alert by the time they landed, but Trip said she wanted to check her heart and lungs for lingering effects from the anesthesia. They paused on the clinic lawn to let Petunia relieve herself, and Jamie was surprised when Toby and Pete emerged from the stables. They both looked a little strange, but Jamie couldn’t put her finger on what was different.

  Pete grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hi, Jamie.” Petunia walked slowly to them, and he squatted to pet her. “Hey, Petunia with a P, like Pete.”

  Toby shrugged. “He kept calling her Daisy, so I suggested that to help him remember.” He held out his hand to Trip, then Jamie. “Dr. Beaumont, Deputy Grant. Good to see you.”

  “Hey, Toby. Got some kitties for me?” Trip asked.

  “We sure do,” Pete said. “Yippee-yo-ki-yay. Herded them up like cat-boys.”

  “Cowboys.” Toby smiled indulgently as he corrected him. “Miss Brenda has summoned Jerome. He’s taking care of some things in town and should be here soon.”

  “Cat-boys. We herded cats.” Pete chortled at his joke.

  “I’ll bet that was a sight,” Trip said, grinning at Pete. “How many this week?”

  “Eight. Three males, five females,” Toby said.

  “We’re going to buy some peaches,” Pete said. “Maybe Jamie can cook us up some peach cobbler.”