Malcolm stirred the dal. Pulled plates from the cupboard and dished it up.
Nirav held a small bowl in his lap and ran his hand over its smooth rim, deep in thought. Not one of the kitchenware bowls—this one had a pretty pattern on it. Probably a piece of bric-a-brac from the cluttered shelf in the living room.
“Everything all right?” Malcolm asked.
Nirav looked up. “Papa, the things in the book are all pretend, right? There are no real Quidditch matches, or delivery owls, or magic sorting hats.”
“That’s right. It’s only a story. Like the stories you’ve told me about Ekalavya.” Maybe this magical stuff was too strange or too scary. Maybe they should be reading something more mundane.
“But is there a mirror like the one Harry found? Where you can look and see what you most want?”
Malcolm carried the plates to the table. Filled glasses at the tap. But delaying the disappointment wouldn’t make anything easier.
“I’m sorry, Nirav. I’m afraid that mirror is pretend, too.”
Nirav’s face barely flickered, but Malcolm knew what that composure cost him. Should he leave it at that or dig deeper? What if he said something that made things worse?
Nothing was the same with Nirav in his life, not even answering a simple question. In the past, when he’d been with Special Forces, and now, heading up his own security firm, the risks had always been well defined. Regardless of whether he was working with an individual or a company, the steps were the same: evaluate threats, identify weaknesses, put an effective protection plan in place. And although he was ultimately responsible, he had an experienced team backing him up every step of the way.
But now he’d been entrusted with the care and safety of a child, and he was on his own. These risks were strange territory, and Malcolm felt constantly on the verge of screwing up. Perhaps someday he would discover a map and compass for parenthood, but for now he was making it up on the fly.
Nirav poked at his food without eating.
“If you had a mirror like that, would you like to see your parents the way Harry did?” Malcolm froze for a moment, not even breathing, hoping this was the right path.
Nirav nodded. Kept his focus on the bowl in his lap.
The kid didn’t even have a photograph. Malcolm scrambled for a solution. “Try this. Close your eyes. Picture yourself stepping in front of that magic mirror, like in the book. Can you see your parents standing beside you?”
Nirav closed his eyes, and after a moment the tension in his mouth and jaw relaxed, and he almost smiled. Malcolm gave silent thanks. Nirav didn’t say anything more, but when he opened his eyes, he dug into his lunch, and Malcolm chalked it up as a success.
This was all new for both of them. Nirav had remained in the orphanage while Malcolm spent a year fighting through endless legal paperwork, and their visits had been limited to an occasional meal or afternoon trip to the park. Now they were together full-time, and every day was a new journey, often along narrow, unpredictable paths.
In his job, Malcolm had no choice but to remain detached from the pain of those around him, and he’d gotten very good at it. Trouble with the wife or girlfriend? Worried about Mom back home? Well, we all have challenges; deal with it on your own time. Malcolm was happy to offer an encouraging word or listen to details over a beer, but he wasn’t invested in the outcome unless it impacted the task at hand.
With Nirav, that sense of distance had evaporated. Every moment of the boy’s worry or pain tore into him like shrapnel. Every moment of joy or contentment was a victory. It was a roller coaster that left him off balance, and it had been years, perhaps decades, since he’d tackled anything for which he felt so untrained.
After lunch and four pages of Harry Potter that somehow turned into six, Malcolm and Nirav pulled together water bottles and a snack to go check out the lake. They locked up the cottage and were halfway to the car when a call stopped them. “Hi there, neighbor!”
It was the guy from the cottage across from them, coming down his front steps. Pale. Slouched. Ten pounds out of shape. He held a half-empty Corona in his hand.
“Hi, I’m Scott,” he said. “Scott Bradford. Wanted to introduce myself. My daughter Lily and I are staying right across from you. Came over to say hello.” He came closer, and Malcolm watched with amusement his initial startled flinch as he noticed the scar. Scott certainly had no ability to hide his thoughts.
“Hi. I’m Malcolm Lassiter.” Malcolm shook Scott’s hand, cold and damp from the beer bottle. “And this is my son, Nirav.”
Scott looked closely at the boy, and Malcolm tensed. He had grown used to being an outsider in his years in Asia and the Middle East, but here in the States, it was Nirav who looked out of place. Strangers gawked at the two of them together, or else they frowned and turned away. They’d been delayed at Immigration for more than an hour, Nirav’s new U.S. passport inspected in detail, a manager called in for consultation.
Every suspicious glance at the bewildered boy left Malcolm seething. Even the cashier at the grocery store outside Atlanta had treated Nirav’s halting English as a sign of imbecility. Scott looked like he was checking off categories—dark skin, foreign name, someone appropriate to ignore.
Malcolm fought down a strong desire to say something pointed. He gave Nirav’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze instead.
Scott didn’t seem to pick up on the cooling atmosphere. “Quiet out here, isn’t it? Makes sense to be neighborly. I’ve been trying to get some programming work done, get my boss off my back so I can actually start on vacation. Lily and I plan to do some backpacking—never done it before, but I bought all the gear on the REI checklist, so we should be all set. How hard can it be? Just load up and walk.”
Malcolm had a hard time keeping his face neutral. Just load up and walk? It was easy to picture Scott sinking to his knees under the weight of a forty-pound pack, but he let it go. Few fathers would arrange a backpacking vacation with their daughters, so Scott earned some points there. “Sounds like you’ve got it all planned out.”
“Yep. The Appalachian Trail is just up the way. We can—” He broke off and turned. Kat and a young girl with fiery orange hair were approaching, walking uphill with Juni trotting beside them.
Kat’s arms sagged with the weight of whatever she was carrying, and her steps were uneven.
“How was the walk?” Scott called.
Neither answered, and it wasn’t until they got closer that Malcolm saw the worried look on Kat’s face and the lump of dirty fur in her arms.
“Dad, look!” Lily raced up to them. “We found a puppy, and he’s hurt.” Her face held equal parts concern and excitement. Juni ran forward to greet Nirav, who knelt to pet her.
Kat stopped when she reached them. “I’m afraid he’s in pretty bad shape. He’s cut, and he’s got a horrid rope around his neck.”
The puppy was buried in her arms as if trying to hide from the world. It was little more than a skeleton, and blood oozed steadily from one of its legs. A strong stench rolled off the dog in almost visible waves. Scott wrinkled his nose and took a step back.
“Kat’s going to take the dog to the vet,” Lily said. “Can I go, too, Dad?”
Kat looked startled, as if this was the first she’d heard of the idea, but she nodded agreement. “If you don’t mind letting Lily come, it would help if she could hold the dog in the car.”
“Are you sure you want to go, Lily?” Scott’s doubt came through loud and clear. “You can if you want to, but the vet is probably just going to put him down. Probably best, the way he looks.”
“Dad!” Lily looked shocked and indignant, and Nirav stood up, looking concerned. How many foolish things could one guy say in five minutes?
“It may not be quite that bad,” Malcolm said. He came closer, and Kat shifted the dog in her arms so he could see. He glanced at the bloody leg and then reached out to feel around the dog’s neck. The rope had done a wicked job. “The leg will be okay. The neck …�
� He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You’re right, you need a vet.”
“There should be one in town,” Kat said. She turned to Scott. “Hopefully this won’t take long. I’ll bring Lily right back.” She shifted the dog awkwardly in her arms.
Scott glanced at his Camry and then looked down at his feet. Once again, his thoughts were clearly telegraphed. Offer a ride to two stinky dogs? No way.
Malcolm gestured toward his BMW. “Nirav and I were heading down to the lake, but if you need a ride into town …”
“Oh no,” Kat said. “There’s no need. I’ve got my car, and with Lily’s help, I should be fine. I need to get my wallet from the house anyway. But thanks. I appreciate it.”
“At least let us give you a lift back to your cottage. You don’t want to carry that dog uphill the whole way.”
Kat looked indecisive. “Your car … we’re a mess … are you sure?”
Malcolm answered by pulling his keys from his pocket. “Come on. It will save you a long hot walk and get you on your way faster.” He’d have little chance to help Kat with her more serious problems, but this, at least, he could manage.
CHAPTER FOUR
MONDAY, 4:00 PM
An hour later, Kat and Lily were in a glistening exam room at Laurel Grove Animal Hospital. Kat had expected a rural vet clinic straight out of James Herriot, but the antiseptic smell, the bright lights, and the long counter lined with medical devices mimicked Kat’s visits to her own doctor. One of the advantages of avoiding new cancer treatment had been cutting down on the countless medical appointments, but now here she was anyway.
Lily sat on an upholstered bench with Juni at her feet, and Kat stood beside the steel examining table. The puppy cowered on the table while the vet checked him out.
Dr. Lawrence was young, blonde, and thin, almost frail, with skin so pale it bordered on translucent. Kat thought Ophelia and wondered if she was too fragile to cope with this mess, but the vet didn’t balk at the filth, and she examined the dog from nose to tail with efficiency.
“He’s not mine,” Kat said, even though no one had asked. “We found him like this. Juni’s not mine either; she’s my daughter’s. I can’t take on another one.” Her call to Sara once they’d reached town had gone to voice mail. She was probably already on the road to Florida. Kat dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. “That rope. His leg. Those ticks. I had to bring him in.”
The vet finished her exam and stood back.
“I’m glad you did.” Her voice resonated with a deep-South drawl, and Kat had to concentrate to pick the words out of the accent. “The good news is he’s about five months old, and all his problems appear treatable. The not-so-good news is he’s got quite a few problems. The embedded collar is the worst of it. I’ll need to remove it under anesthesia, see how things go. I know the leg looks bad, but the cut is recent, and closing that wound will be pretty straightforward.”
The thought of anesthesia and surgery on such a helpless creature made Kat cringe.
“He’ll need bandage changes for a few weeks,” the vet went on. “He’s malnourished, and he’s dehydrated. His gums are white, likely anemic from the ticks, and he’s probably loaded with intestinal worms.”
Dr. Lawrence stopped and waited. Her face remained expressionless, but her hands twisted the tubing of her stethoscope into a rubbery tangle.
It took Kat a moment to realize she was supposed to say something. “I’m glad you can help him, but he’s not my dog. What happens after he gets better; does he go to a shelter or something?”
The vet looked at Kat and shook her head in a definite no. “We’ll talk to the county shelter, but when they learn it’s a surgical case with no tags and no microchip, not to mention a history of neglect, they’ll ask me to put him down.”
Kat’s stomach clenched.
“Oh no.” Lily’s voice was shocked, and Kat cursed herself for bringing the girl along to hear this.
“There’s a local rescue group, but they’re swamped, and they usually don’t have funds for something this complicated.” Dr. Lawrence’s voice was even. She wasn’t pushing, she wasn’t trying to create a guilt trip, she was just laying it out. But her face had lost its last hint of color.
Brutally unfair not to give the pup a chance at some sort of future. Death instead of treatment would be giving up.
Kat pulled up short. Was this what Sara felt when she thought about Kat’s decision? She hadn’t thought of it in quite those terms before, and the wave of empathy she felt for her daughter’s perspective caught her off guard and left her unsettled.
The pup took that moment to scramble across the examining table and bury his head under Kat’s arm, exactly as he had when she carried him up the hill. He brought with him a new wave of his revolting smell, and Kat tensed for a moment before she gave him a tentative pat. Dogs-at-a-distance might have been her history, but today she was getting a crash course in up-close-and-personal.
Another dog? The last thing she needed.
Euthanize this little guy? Not an option.
“I can pay for his treatment.” She had completely lost her mind. “And then maybe you or my daughter can find him a home.”
The vet’s body relaxed, and she smiled, showing deep dimples. Kat realized Dr. Lawrence had braced herself to hear Kat say she wanted none of it, to hear she’d have to put the dog down.
The vet nodded toward the puppy, who had now welded his body to Kat’s. “I think he’s already found a home.”
Kat’s lips tightened around the resolute no that fought to escape. A dog was a long-term commitment, and long-term was no longer part of her vocabulary. “Not me.” Her voice squeaked. “I don’t know anything about puppies. Juni came to me fully trained.”
Juni sat up straight and pricked her ears when she heard her name.
Dr. Lawrence waved one hand as if sweeping away something completely irrelevant. “People who say they don’t know anything make the best owners, because they make sure they learn. It’s the idiots who think they know everything who let their dogs get in this sort of shape.”
She picked up a pen and clipboard and made notes on some sort of form.
“We’ll need to keep him here overnight, get him rehydrated, do the surgery, and take care of all these parasites. He’ll need vaccinations and heartworm preventive.” She slid a pen across the table along with the paper—an estimate form with a space at the bottom for Kat to sign her acknowledgment. “This total should cover it. We’ll need a deposit.”
Kat’s lips tightened at the long column of numbers. So much for a low-budget mountain vacation. The pen felt heavy and awkward, but she signed.
“We don’t have a name for the dog entered here,” the vet said as she finished her paperwork. “Any thoughts?”
Lily and Juni sat expectantly, two pairs of watching eyes. Kat frowned at the grungy, tick-laden puppy. Paying for treatment was one thing. Naming was another. A name was a commitment. One she didn’t want.
Dr. Lawrence stood with her pen poised, and Kat stood outnumbered. She sifted through a handful of boring dog names—Spot, Rover, Chief, maybe Lily had ideas—and then remembered the river she’d seen on her Virginia map on the drive here.
“Call him Tye. T-Y-E.”
The vet grinned as she wrote it down, and Kat could tell she chalked it up as a victory. The simple act of naming, of no longer thinking that dog, was added insurance Tye might now have a home.
“Give us a call in the morning, and I can tell you how the surgery went. You should be able to take him home tomorrow afternoon.”
Kat led Lily and Juni back to the car, her arms unexpectedly empty and useless without the pup.
“That wasn’t so bad. Now what?” Lily asked.
What indeed. Heat shimmered on the asphalt parking lot, and Juni jumped into the back seat of the car and hung her head out the open window, panting. Peace and quiet sounded tempting, but Lily had been a genuine help. Kat cast about for some
sort of reward. “How about some ice cream?”
Lily whipped out her cell phone and tapped at it. “There’s a fudge and ice cream shop four blocks to the left?” She made it a question, but her voice was hopeful.
“A nice change from blood and ticks.” Kat put the car in gear, and they arrived in minutes. “I can’t go in like this.” Kat’s clothes looked like she’d stumbled off a battlefield. She fumbled for cash and handed it to Lily. “You’re in charge. Anything is fine.”
The grin Lily gave her made Kat wonder what bizarre flavors they’d end up with, but the choices proved sensible. They carried the ice cream cones to an outdoor picnic table—mint chocolate chip for Kat, double peanut butter for Lily, and plain vanilla for Juni.
Half of the vanilla ended up dripping onto Kat’s leg as she held it for the dog, but after everything else that had dripped on her that afternoon, it ranked as only a minor inconvenience. She tried to remember the last time she’d sat outdoors eating ice cream. It had been years, maybe decades, and the simple pleasure felt surprisingly good.
When she and Jim had been in these mountains ten years earlier, they’d sat outside like this. Coffee back then, not ice cream. They had driven north to Asheville so she could see As You Like It performed by the Montford Park Players at Shakespeare in the Park. It was a perfect night and a great outdoor performance—a casual, bring-your-own-chair, pass-the-hat-for-donations event—but Kat’s sharpest memory was of a peaceful hour before dinner when they stopped at a small café.
She and Jim had talked of nothing serious—Sara’s news from college, carpet they’d ordered for the townhouse, Kat’s plans for the next school year. What highlighted the memory wasn’t the place or the conversation; it was the pleasure of being with someone she could share it with.
The same pleasure existed now. It wasn’t the mountain location or the drippy ice cream that held this moment still for her; it was the fact that she was spending it with Lily and Juni. They’d shared an adventure, and it felt as if she’d known them both for far longer than a day. Such a shame she had so little time left for more moments like this with Sara.
Wildland Page 4