Skin Tight

by Ava Gray

  And it wasn’t like Harper Creek was overflowing with jobs. Her dad had been steadily laying people off at the mill for the last year. As a result, Neva expected an influx of applications from men who used to work maintenance there, but so far it hadn’t happened. Puzzling and upsetting, but she didn’t have time to reflect on why things weren’t working out like she’d thought.

  Mrs. Jones was here; she could tell by the yapping in the foyer. She came out of her office, tucked just around the corner from the waiting room. Julie’s desk sat in the waiting area, so she handled the hellos, if she wasn’t working on a pet; her friend expressed anal glands, cleaned ears, and clipped nails on her own. But before she started any such services, Julie pulled all the medical histories and put them in order in the temp file holder outside the exam room. Neva snagged the first one.

  File in hand, she smiled as she waved Mrs. Jones back. “How are you and Kady doing today?”

  The other woman smiled. “Well, I’m old. Kady’s lively as ever.”

  “You’ll outlive us all.” She led the way back to the first exam room.

  If only dealing with a cantankerous, spoiled pet comprised the worst of her worries. She made small talk while she fastened the muzzle and then prepared the shots. If Julie wasn’t cleaning up from surgery, she’d have already done this. But there was no point in wishing for more help. Some nights she cleaned the place before going home, too—and her mother never tired of telling her it was beneath her.

  Harpers don’t work like you do, Lillian would say, clad in one of her endless pastel suits. Neva had never been clear if she meant with animals, or just the whole idea of employment. It didn’t matter; she had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she’d never be the daughter her mother wanted. Nor could she make up for the son they’d lost.

  It hadn’t always been that way, of course. She remembered when Lillian was less concerned about appearances, when she laughed more freely. But Neva had been a lot younger then, and Luke’s loss had only frozen her mother more. Putting those thoughts aside, she went to work with the vaccines.

  Naturally, the little dog yipped more than the shots warranted; in response, Mrs. Jones hovered and cooed. Tiredly, Neva feigned cheer as she finished.

  “Same time next year?” she said with a smile.

  “I will if you will.”

  Neva let the old woman deal with the muzzle while she disposed of the empty vials. Mrs. Jones was a good client; she always bought all the boosters, not just rabies. People like her kept the clinic in the black. Barely. It was a matter of pride for Neva that she made ends meet without touching her trust fund. Not that she could anymore, in any case. Her parents had it frozen after their last argument.

  The rest of the day went quickly. More appointments. More pets. Neva gave shots and examined sickly animals. Most just needed minor treatments or medicine, except a dog she took as a walk-in near closing time. He was clearly in bad shape.

  “He’s not eating or drinking,” the man told Julie. “I’m at my wit’s end.”

  She didn’t recognize him, and in the two years since she’d been open, she’d thought she had treated all the animals in the area at one time or another. Of course, some people didn’t believe in spaying or neutering or regular vaccines. They only brought the pet in if it was sick—and sometimes not even then. So while he filled out the new patient intake card, she assessed the dog from across the room and winced. Neva braced herself to deliver bad news—she’d learned to recognize the look of a dying animal. He wasn’t a big breed, maybe thirty pounds, and he showed mixed heritage in his fuzzy dun coat.

  After asking the usual questions, she performed a routine prelim exam, but as she’d suspected, it would take a CT to know for sure what was wrong. She hated this part of the job, because she was almost sure she wouldn’t be able to offer a cure. If Amos had brought Duke in sooner, maybe. But not now. The dog was just too weak.

  Still, she had to try. Her instincts, while good, were not infallible. Neva scooped the dog into her arms and took him in back. He didn’t fight as she laid him on the table. Julie came back to assist, but she paused in the doorway when she saw how much Neva had done on her own.

  “Are you okay?”

  She heard the question in the tech’s voice. Julie had a boyfriend and a life outside work and she was ready to be done for the day. “Yeah, I can handle this. Go on home to Travis.”

  It didn’t take long to find the problem—tumor on the spleen. Fatal. This one was such a good size, it was no wonder the dog didn’t want to eat. There wasn’t room inside him.

  Neva closed her eyes and took a deep breath, bracing herself for the encounter to come. Then she squared her shoulders and picked Duke up, cradling him with the same tenderness most people would show a small child. His yellow fur contrasted with her white coat as she carried him back to the exam room.

  Amos came to his feet with an anxious look. “You find out what’s ailing him?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.” Using her doctor’s voice, she explained the medical condition and his options. He could take some pain meds home and let the dog live as long as possible, or she could euthanize tonight. “I understand it’s a tough decision. I can give you some medicine for him if you want to think about it.”

  His face fell. “So there’s nothin’ you can do?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, wishing she could fix it.

  No matter how many animals she saved, this never got any easier. The losses always overshadowed the wins. Sometimes she thought it would break her heart, but quitting would just prove her parents right. She refused the life they’d chosen for her; they must learn to accept her on her own terms . . . or not at all, though that wasn’t what she wanted, either.

  But he surprised her. “Let’s get it done then. I don’t want Duke in pain.”

  “If you’re sure, I have some forms for you to fill out.”

  An hour later, she finished up. Amos was in tears when he left, and she felt as heavy as a carton of bricks. Neva hated days that ended like this.

  She jumped a little when a man stepped into view through the frosted glass of her front window. If he held a sick animal, she just might cry. Her lunch had consisted of a soggy sandwich; she was starving and she needed some rest.

  Halfheartedly she pointed at the “Closed” sign. In answer, he indicated the “Help Wanted” sign on the other side of the door. As she peered at him, she realized she knew him. He’d helped her the other day when she was stranded. Zeke Noble, the tow truck driver had said. A good Samaritan, and more importantly, not a stranger, thief, or vandal. If he’d wanted to hurt her, he’d had a better shot at it on that lonely road. He’d struck her as strange and wary, but not dangerous. So there was no need to call the sheriff to shoo him off.

  Counting herself lucky that was all he wanted, Neva pulled an application off the pad on the front desk—covered with pictures of Julie’s family, her boyfriend, and her dog—and then went out into the dark.