Strength in Numbers

by Charlotte Carter

  Anabelle gasped.

  “The county simply doesn’t have the funds or space to keep so many animals. Some will have to be put down.”

  “But that’s terrible!” The regret that had been gnawing at Anabelle turned to anger. “They shouldn’t be allowed to do that to a poor, helpless animal.” Anabelle knew she wasn’t saying anything Diana hadn’t said hundreds of times.

  What on earth could Anabelle do? She couldn’t go against Cam’s wishes. After all, he’d be home with the dog more than she would. Even though she was totally confident Cam would come to love any animal, it wouldn’t be fair to Cam if she simply arrived home with a puppy without his approval.

  It wouldn’t be fair to the puppy either.

  “I’m sorry, Diana, I wish I could—”

  “It’s okay, Anabelle. I thought it was worth mentioning, at any rate. Not every family can provide for a pet.”

  But she could, Anabelle thought. Cam could too, if only he were willing.

  Her jaw tightened. Maybe if she asked him one more time, if she could be a little more persuasive…

  Diana and Ace went off to do their patient rounds. Anabelle returned to her scheduling task, although her heart wasn’t in it.

  Maybe the holiday season was depressing her. Kirstie and Evan would come home for Christmas dinner. She’d encouraged Kirstie to invite her boyfriend. But he planned to visit his parents and would be out of town. Ainslee and Doug wouldn’t be there for dinner. They planned to go to his parents’ home; it was their turn, as Ainslee explained. Instead they’d drop by for dessert on Christmas Eve before they all went to the eleven o’clock church service.

  Christmas simply wouldn’t be the same without Ainslee.

  Discouraged, she sighed. “Just how do you think a dog is going to fix that?” she asked the blinking cursor on the computer screen.

  “I’ve been talking to myself all morning too.” Candace swept past Anabelle en route to the supply room. A few moments later she reappeared with an IV bag. “I think every pregnant woman in the county has decided to have her baby today so everyone can be back home by Christmas.”

  Anabelle swiveled her chair around. “Is that what you’ve been talking to yourself about?”

  “Not really. It’s just that I was going to call Brooke’s therapist first thing this morning. But when I finally got enough breathing room to make the call, I discovered he’s off for two weeks. Visiting his family, I think.”

  Concern rippled through Anabelle like an icy cold winter creek. Nothing had been easy for Candace since her husband passed away. “Is Brooke having trouble again?”

  “She’s back to having almost nightly nightmares, and she’s acting…” She shook her head, causing her highlighted brown hair to shift at her jaw line. “I don’t know how else to describe it except that she’s acting like an adolescent.”

  “Then you certainly have my sympathies.” When Kirstie hit her teen years, she’d had the double problem of coping with her disability as well as experiencing wildly fluctuating hormones.

  “Brooke is only eleven years old and we’re already having difficulties communicating. I can’t imagine how it will be when she’s actually sixteen. Which is why I wanted her to see her counselor as soon as possible.” Candace checked the pager hooked onto her scrubs. “Gotta go. Another new mom in labor.”

  “Good luck with Brooke. I’ll say a prayer for you both,” Anabelle called after her.

  Grateful she had survived the teenage years with her children, Anabelle turned back to the computer.

  Compared to the challenges of parenthood, wanting a dog seemed small and insignificant. Even selfish.

  And adding a puppy to the household when she was facing a 10 percent cut in pay wasn’t ideal timing. There were always vet bills of one sort or another with any animal.

  Get over it, Anabelle. Try thinking about all you’ve been blessed with instead.

  Even as she spoke the words, an image of a puppy with big, brown pleading eyes popped into her mind. She slumped and shook her head.

  That poor little puppy.

  The number of elective surgeries always dropped off the week before Christmas, which meant James had a lighter patient load than usual. He had two discharges scheduled as well, including Ted Townsend, which would reduce his patient census even further. Ted’s parents were already in his room getting him ready to go home.

  If Varner noticed the light patient load, he’d probably order unpaid furloughs for staff members as a way to reduce expenses.

  The elevator doors swished open. Two men in wheelchairs exited the elevator followed by a third man who walked with an uneven gait. Other than their obvious disabilities, all three men looked fit and were under thirty.

  “Excuse me, sir.” One of the men in a wheelchair rolled up to James. Wearing a blue T-shirt with the Paralympics logo, his arms looked as thick as a Civil War cannon. “We’re looking for a kid named Ted Townsend. You know where we can find him?”

  “Sure do.” James set aside the discharge papers. “You must be Kirstie Scott’s friends. She said to expect someone from the Paralympics Committee.”

  “Yep, I talked with her late last week. Marvin Bloom from Chicago.” The man who walked with a limp extended his hand. “I work with the National Paralympics Committee. Talked my buddies into driving up with me.”

  James shook hands all around. All three had buzz cuts. “Are you all involved with the Paralympics?”

  “Jeff and I play wheelchair basketball.” He indicated the second man in a wheelchair and introduced himself as Rockie.

  “And I’m lead member of the bicycling team,” Marvin said. “We have big medal hopes for the next summer games.”

  James was duly impressed and he gave them all a thumbs-up. “Ted’s been one of my patients since last week. He was a standout high school soccer player until he lost his right leg above his knee. That’s really thrown him into the dumps. I hope meeting you three, he’ll see all he can still do and stop focusing on what he can’t do.”

  “We’ll do what we can,” Marvin promised.

  “I’m glad you got here today,” James said. “He’s being discharged this morning.”

  Jeff held up a DVD. “We brought this along for him to take a look at. It’s all about the Paralympics, what events are popular in the US, and what the organization can do to help members. He can take it home and look at it later.”

  “That’s great, guys,” James said. “Let me take you to his room and introduce you.”

  He introduced the men to Ted’s mother and father and then to Ted. The young man was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, sitting on the side of the bed, looking as moody as ever. Someone had folded and pinned the empty right leg of his jeans up over his thigh.

  “What’s this about?” the boy asked. “You brought every gimp you could find to gawk at me? I don’t need an audience. I just want to get out of here.”

  “Be polite, Teddy,” his mother warned.

  “Why should I?”

  Marvin stepped up to Ted, right into his personal space like a Marine drill sergeant. “Feeling sorry for yourself, huh? Think you got a really raw deal, huh? Well think again.”

  Ted retreated farther back on the bed.

  Looking as though she wanted to intervene, Cynthia reached toward her son. Her husband held her back.

  James understood Marvin’s trying the tough approach. In boot camp it usually worked. He hoped it would with Ted as well.

  “See, I could’ve been dead because I was driving too fast,” Marvin continued. “I’m lucky to be alive even though I lost both my legs. I can still drive a car and I can ride a bike. And I mean ride competitively. No wimpy riding around the block for me.”

  Ted frowned as if he wasn’t getting it. “How do you ride a bike without…?” He glanced down at Marvin’s legs.

  “It’s a reclining bike. Fastest man-powered vehicle on two wheels. I use my arms.”

  Though still unconvinced, Ted nodded.
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br />   Jeff rolled closer to Ted. “My buddy died in the same accident that nearly wiped me out.” He spoke in a near whisper as though the memories were still raw and painful for him. “He had a shot at a pro-basketball career but he never had the chance to try out. Every basket I make, I make it for him. Whatever the final score is, everybody on my team is a winner.”

  “You have a choice, Ted.” Rockie spoke from behind Jeff. “You can go home, curl up and let your heart and your soul die. Or you can live every day as though it could be your last. That’s what we’re doing. The Paralympics organization will help you do that.”

  Jeff handed the DVD to Ted, who looked perplexed. “Look at this when you get home. When you’re ready, give Marvin a call.” He stepped aside so Marvin could hand Ted a business card. “He’ll fix you up with a group you can work with.”

  Phyllis Getty, an eightysomething hospital volunteer, who was an institution herself, arrived with a wheelchair to take Ted downstairs. She scanned the room, straightened her kelly green volunteer jacket and shook her head.

  “My taxi’s only got room for one,” she said, her voice almost as authoritative as Marvin’s despite her diminutive stature. “You other folks are gonna have to get downstairs on your own power.”

  Jeff did a wheelie and grinned. “How ’bout we make it a race? I’ll take the stairs.”

  Phyllis placed her hands on her hips. “You’d break your neck going down those stairs.”

  “Okay, then, I’ll take the elevator and you take the stairs.”

  Laughter broke the tension in the room. James helped Ted into the wheelchair and the entire entourage headed toward the elevators, Phyllis in the lead pushing Ted.

  James said a silent prayer asking the Lord to watch over Ted and help him face the obstacles he would meet in his new life.

  Anabelle lived only a couple of miles from Hope Haven Hospital, which made her daily commute easy even in bad weather.

  But as she drove home that afternoon, something made her turn on Bureau Street and drive north out of town. Soon residential areas gave way to farmland where sugar beets, corn and truck farms—some of them raising organic fruits and vegetables—greened the countryside in the summer. This time of year, the ground had been plowed leaving clods of rich, dark earth waiting for the spring thaw to loosen winter’s hold on them.

  Trees that were planted to form windbreaks around scattered farmhouses were bare of leaves, their branches no barrier to winter storms.

  The County Animal Shelter was only a mile or so out of town. There’d be no harm in dropping by, Anabelle told herself. But she wouldn’t go against her husband’s wishes and bring the little puppy home.

  Maybe she wouldn’t even bond with the puppy Diana had mentioned.

  She turned her Ford Fusion hybrid into the shelter’s gravel parking lot, splashed through a puddle and parked near the entrance. Only one other car was in the lot. Not nearly as busy here as the shopping center.

  The office was empty, so she pressed the buzzer on the counter. Posters on the wall touted spaying and neutering for all animals. Feral cats had taken up residence in Cam’s barn years ago, and they made good mousers. But Anabelle had taken care not to let them overpopulate the place by catching and neutering any new cats that showed up.

  After a couple of minutes, the door to the kennels opened, admitting the sound of barking dogs and a young man wearing a tan uniform and matching jacket with a county shelter shoulder patch. His name tag read Josh Johnston.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He stepped behind the counter and smiled pleasantly. His shaggy blond hair needed a good groomer. “What can I do for you?”

  “A friend of mine—Diana Zimmer—mentioned she’d seen a puppy here. I thought I might—”

  “Oh yeah, Diana’s great.” He brightened considerably at the mention of Diana’s name, his smile wide enough to show sparkling white teeth. “She helps out at least once a week. She really cares about the animals and is always looking out for folks who can adopt them.”

  “I’m not actually planning to adopt—”

  “She said she knew the perfect couple for a mixed breed pup we got in a week or so ago,” he went on without pausing. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  “But—”

  He went out the door to the kennel, obviously expecting Anabelle to follow. She couldn’t very well just stand there.

  The cacophony of barking dogs rose to a startling pitch in the barnlike structure. Yips and yaps from poodles and dachshunds, deep-throated barks from mixed-breed boxers and huskies. Dogs, two or three to a cage, leaped against the wire enclosures and wagged their tails, all of them pleading, “Take me! Take me!”

  It made Anabelle heartsick to think many of these innocent creatures would have to be put down. She wanted to take them all home.

  And knew she couldn’t take any.

  She wanted to weep.

  “Here you go.” Josh opened the gate to a pen holding a single puppy. “All the rest of our puppies have been adopted for Christmas. We’ve only got this little guy left.”

  Gingerly, Anabelle stepped into the cage. Splay-legged, the brown and white puppy galloped over to greet her. His ratlike tail beat like a metronome counting double time, and his rear end wobbled with the same enthusiasm. One ear stood at attention, the other bent at half mast as though debating if the puppy should grow into a proud German Shepherd or an adorable mutt.

  Unable to help herself, Anabelle sat down on the concrete. The puppy launched himself into her lap and began licking her face.

  She laughed and turned her head away. “Oh, puppy, I’m so sorry.” She played with his ears, trying to straighten the crooked one, and petted his wiggly body. A sturdy little guy who needed a home.

  “He’s great, isn’t he?” Josh said. “If you brought a travel carrier, I can get the paperwork started for you to take the pup home.”

  Her head snapped up. “No, you don’t understand…I can’t adopt him.” The sting of tears burned her eyes and she nuzzled the dog to her neck. He smelled of puppy chow and happiness.

  “But I thought…Diana said—”

  “It’s my husband. He doesn’t want—” Her chest ached with regret. “I just wanted to see him. Somebody will adopt him. I know they will.”

  “It’s pretty close to Christmas already. After Christmas—” The young man hung his head in defeat. “He won’t have much of a chance.”

  Guilt burrowed into her good sense. She knew she should get up, go home to the man she’d known and loved since high school. Leave the puppy behind.

  Leave the puppy to be put down. If he wasn’t adopted by Christmas.

  She eased the dog out of her lap and stood. “Josh, I wonder if I could—” She straightened her spine and pulled back her shoulders. “I can’t take him home with me now but I will adopt him if no one else does.”

  “Well, okay.” A puzzled frown pressed his blond eyebrows lower. “When did you want to come and get him?”

  “Christmas Eve. But only if no one has taken him by then. I’ll leave you my name and phone number.”

  If it came to that, she’d have to find some way to convince Cam adopting the puppy was the right thing to do. And she only had four days to do it.

  Chapter Ten

  THE SCOUT TROOP MET IN THE SOCIAL ROOM AT Church of the Good Shepherd. The boys started to straggle in a little before six o’clock, hauling in their bedrolls and duffel bags for James to check for the trip. At the last meeting he’d given them each a list of what they’d need.

  “Okay, guys. Settle down. No more roughhousing.” Some of the boys were playing King of the Mountain on one of the long folding tables used by the church. While not acceptable behavior, James understood their excitement about the upcoming camping trip. He was pretty jazzed too, despite his worry about leaving Fern overnight. “Spread out around the room, dump out the contents of your duffels and get out your checklists.”

  The boys, all seventh and eighth graders, erupted int
o action, each vying for a spot to display the contents of his bag.

  “Hey, Pete. You’ve got enough stuff there to go camping for a week,” one of the boys teased.

  “Mom said I had to bring two of everything in case I get my socks and pants soaked.”

  A neighboring boy nudged his buddy. “I’m sure not gonna carry Pete’s duffel. It’s gotta weigh a ton.”

  James interrupted the teasing, saying, “Listen up, guys. Stand by your duffel so I know which one belongs to you. And let’s keep it down to a low roar, okay?”

  He made his way around the room, eyeballing the gear the boys had packed: canteen, mess kit, long johns, extra wool socks, heavy hiking boots. He expected there’d be snow on the ground, and it was sure to be cold. Safety was his number one priority. With a few exceptions, the boys had followed the packing list to a T.

  “Nelson, you and a buddy get two tents from our storage closet. We’re going to practice putting up the tents outside.” The troop was very fortunate that the church allowed them to store some of the troop’s gear in the rec room, otherwise it all would have been stuffed into James’s garage at home.

  Over the years, the church grounds had expanded, the result of the owner of the adjacent property deeding the acreage to Good Shepherd after he passed away. The church had installed volleyball and basketball courts, a softball field and a small playground. The church used the area for various retreats and programs and rented it out to other community groups as well.

  James directed the boys to a large grassy area near the picnic pavilion, which was lit by floodlights. For the purpose of erecting the tents, he divided the troop into two groups.

  “First thing you do is put down a waterproof ground cover. Trust me, you’ll be glad you’ve got that ground cover if we’re camping in the snow. Now spread out the ground cover.” He watched as the boys managed that step with minimal effort and only one small complaint about sleeping on the hard ground.

  “Now the tent,” he continued.