by Ellen Joy
She still hadn’t gotten over her brother and his wife’s shotgun elopement. She wasn’t quite sure what surprised the family more, the wedding or the surprise pregnancy. Even though her parents had thrown a party, there had been a lot of tension the few days leading up to it. Elizabeth had been on the receiving end of her mother’s tirades over missing her son’s wedding, the first wedding among the four siblings. Not to mention that Matt and Justine’s relationship was tumultuous at best, and the last few weeks had only proved things hadn’t changed much.
Why rush? was what she had thought, especially when history has proven you wrong. Why jump into something? Elizabeth’s brief engagement proved that. She didn’t need to rush her happily-ever-after until everything was perfectly-happy.
Excuses to leave early already floated around in her head as soon as she stepped out of the vet’s truck. She was tired from the day and still in a pretty rotten mood from her afternoon appointment with Mr. Cahill. She wouldn’t be able to have a glass of wine, since she was certain she’d get a call from him sooner rather than later.
Her blood boiled at how he had swooped in and bought the Sanborn Farm out from underneath her. How did a jerk like Adam Cahill sway the sweetest old lady into selling her family farm?
With a sigh, she glanced down the road at the cove’s harbor. The setting sun’s golden rays reflected off the ocean water like twinkling lights. Lobster boats bobbed in the waves, the community’s main source of income besides tourism. Though the coastal village was mostly known for its sandy beaches nestled up against the granite cliffs of the Atlantic Ocean, most of its residents lived off the water.
Tonight, the air held a humidity that gave the feeling of summer with the warm, evening light of the sun. In a few short months, tourists would swamp the village. The beaches would be a sea of colorful umbrellas. The sidewalks would be packed with people looking for souvenirs, renting every inn and hotel room all the way to Labor Day weekend. Then the leaf peepers would follow, flooding the streets on the weekends. Residents wouldn’t go downtown until mid-December unless absolutely necessary.
She glanced over to a red hull floating in the water. The lobster boat belonged to her brother. It swayed in the harbor’s gentle waves. She couldn’t believe he got married. Not that she couldn’t believe he’d get married, but why Justine? The two fought more than they got along, broke up more times than she could remember, and they didn’t want the same things in life. Justine wanted to buy a house and have a family, where her older brother Matt never had any intention of settling down. He couldn’t even come up with a name for his boat.
The bell from the drawbridge rang out and a lobster boat coasted underneath, returning to shore for the night. Gliding past the others anchored there, the boat steered into its slip. She didn’t recognize the name, but a lot of fishermen came up to this part of Maine, hearing the legends of Camden Cove’s bountiful lobster.
She walked from the harbor up the road to Finn’s Tavern. She wanted to be happy for Matt and Justine, she really did. The idea of love seemed so simple for everyone else but her. Relationships had always been unnecessarily complicated.
When she stepped inside, she saw Matt and Justine, her attention on her phone. Dan sat on the other side of Matt. Both of their heads tilted back in the direction of the television above.
Finn’s Tavern looked exactly the same as it did when her dad brought her in one time as a kid. She suspected it hadn’t changed since Finn, the owner, opened shop, which was before she was born. The small space had the atmosphere of the interior of a boat with shiny, dark wood paneling, lips on the bar for runaway drinks, and every knickknack that had been on a boat at some point. A captain’s wheel stuck to the hostess table, a brass compass next to the door, with every oar and buoy outside of the water, hung on the wall. Most of the customers were townies, and everyone literally knew everyone’s name. Their livelihoods connected to the water in one way or the other.
When she reached the table, she noticed a glass of red wine in an empty spot.
“Hey!” Dan stood, pulling out her chair, then giving her a kiss on her cheek. He still didn’t feel comfortable enough to kiss her in front of her brother, even though they had been dating for about six months.
“Hey,” she said. His beard rubbed against her face. She looked in his hazel eyes and felt... comfortable. And comfortable was good.
“That predictable?” she asked as she sat down. She twirled the glass with her fingers. Her assistant’s words crept into her head. “Hi, guys.”
Justine didn’t look up, but said a, “Hey.” Things still a bit tense between the two, she guessed.
Elizabeth would have to let go of her feelings and enjoy the night, for her brother’s sake.
“How was your day?” Dan asked.
“It was the worst.” She wished she could drain the glass in one gulp.
“Really?” He turned to face her. “What happened?”
“I had to take care of Mr. Cahill’s dog, Max, again,” she complained. “He still won’t put him down.”
Dan nodded, but by the way his eyebrows scrunched together, he didn’t remember the stories she had told him about her newest client.
“Who’s Max?”
“He’s Mr. Cahill’s dog.”
“Is he really sick?”
She faced away to hide her sudden flash of annoyance before her bad mood made her say something she’d regret. Why did every guy question her judgment?
Then an image of Adam Cahill flashed through her head, and her annoyance switched to frustration. She had been complaining about him for weeks.
“He’s the guy who bought the Sanborn Farm,” she said to Dan, not able to help herself. She waited for his reaction, expecting him to feel the same indignation as she did. “You know, the farm Mrs. Sanborn promised me?”
He shrugged. “Shouldn’t you be mad at Mrs. Sanborn for not selling you the farm, versus being mad at a guy whose dog is dying?”
His words came out sweet, but they bothered her. Immediately, she became defensive. “Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a horrible human being, but you weren’t there. He was a total jerk. He’s making his poor dog suffer.”
“Who was a total jerk?” Matt asked, jumping into their conversation.
“I had an appointment with that guy Cahill,” she said, reverting to childhood with her older brother.
“You mean the farm stealer?”
Elizabeth threw her hand at her brother in affirmation. “Yes, that guy!”
Dan shrugged and took a sip from his beer. “Maybe he thinks he’s doing the right thing?”
Elizabeth stopped herself from saying something more, afraid her annoyance at his devil’s advocate routine would come out in her tone. Her fingers pressed the corner of the napkin under her wineglass as she pushed it away from her.
“You, okay?” Dan asked, unaware of her current state of emotion.
Matt’s attention went back to the hockey game as Justine got up to go the bathroom, still ignoring Elizabeth’s presence.
She let out a sigh. Why was she being difficult? “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m on call tonight, so I can’t drink.”
Dan rubbed her upper back sympathetically, but his gaze went to the television.
“The Bruins are about win this,” he said, as though her face spoke her mind. “We could be going to the finals.”
The game even annoyed her at this point, so she swung around in her chair and looked around. Justine returned to her seat next to Matt. She whispered something into his ear, and they laughed together. She touched Matt’s chest, a gesture so simple, yet so intimate. Elizabeth slid a glance back at Dan. She couldn’t imagine doing the same with him.
“Hey, Justine.”
“Hey, Elizabeth.” Justine barely looked over at her.
Elizabeth tried to think up some small talk. “Congratulations on the new house.”
Justine smiled, facing her. She was always happiest when the conversation was f
ocused on her. “Yes, we’re going furniture shopping this weekend.”
“Fun.” Elizabeth knew Matt’s toes were curling as much as hers, at the thought of spending the weekend furniture shopping. She was about to say something else, but Justine’s attention went back to her phone.
Elizabeth’s mind wandered back to Mr. Cahill’s stare, and then to Margie’s meat and potatoes. She shook her head at the thought of Margie and Gerald. She turned her attention back to Dan, “How was work?”
He shrugged. “Like the day before.”
Just then, Mr. and Mrs. LeBranche, an older couple from town, stood up and began dancing as a slow song hit the stereo. She poked Dan and pointed. “Aren’t they so cute?”
She looked back at the couple. Mr. LeBranche held one arm around his wife’s waist, and she rested her head against his shoulder. He lifted her hand up to the air, swinging her around gently to the music.
“We should go out there with them,” she said to Dan.
He looked at her like she had two heads. “I’ll stay here and make sure the Bruins are doing okay.”
She almost said something smart back at him but stopped herself. Of course, he’d just watch the game. That’s what they did at the tavern. Hang out and watch the game. She’d go back to her place, he’d go back to his, and they’d do it all over again tomorrow. Which was ...boring.
She looked him over as his attention stayed on the television. Boring, but handsome. Maine through and through, his big build and lumberjack look made her kiss him in the first place. Plus, he was very loyal.
“I could just get a dog,” she whispered to herself.
Dan wrinkled his brow. “Whatcha say?”
“Just thinking about Max,” she lied.
He made another face.
“The dog.” She waited for him to remember her story. “Mr. Cahill’s dog.”
“Oh, right.” He shook his head. “Poor guy.”
She almost argued, but her phone vibrated against the table, dancing against the wood surface. She looked at the number. A number with a Boston area code. Adam Cahill. She looked at Dan. “I need to take this.”
“Sure.” He stood, pulling out her chair as she jumped off and grabbed her purse, holding up her phone, as if that indicated the importance of answering the call.
“Feel free to go dancing without me.” Dan smiled at his own joke, but his attention faded back to the game before he finished his sentence.
Stepping out of the tavern, she stood straighter before answering as though he could see her.
“Dr. Williams.” She emphasized the doctor as she spoke.
“Yes, Dr. Williams, it’s Adam Cahill,” he said, and she could hear panic in his voice. “I’m hoping you can come out to the house as soon as possible. Max isn’t doing well.”
All her feelings vanished as she thought about Max. “I’ll head right over.”
Two
Elizabeth didn’t bother with the blinker as she turned onto Smith Sanborn Road. No one else appeared to be out at this time of night, other than the possum she swerved to miss. She pulled up the dirt driveway and her heart dropped as soon as she saw the wicker rocking chairs on the wraparound porch.
It looked exactly how she imagined it would if she had owned it.
But it wasn’t meant to be. At least for now. The antique farmhouse would be Adam Cahill’s for the time being, but she’d never stop wanting it to be hers someday. He had probably imagined owning a hobby farm would be fun, but she knew he was in way over his head. It was only a matter of time before a ‘for sale’ sign would grace his lawn. Then she’d swoop in and get what was rightfully hers. Her dream of starting a satellite veterinarian office would still come true. She just had to be patient.
She pulled the vet’s truck up to the side of the house with the attached barn, the portion of the house she imagined renovating for the clinic. Turning in her seat, she grabbed her medical bag and jumped out.
The front door swung opened and Adam Cahill appeared on the front porch. Paint splattered his worn jeans and his New York Yankee’s T-shirt. Another reason to hate him, he was a Yankee fan.
“Thank you so much for coming so quickly,” he said, rushing toward her as she walked up the porch steps.
“Has he been seizing at all?” she asked, as she stepped inside and looked around the front hall. Her irritation with Mr. Cahill vanished as soon as she saw his bloodshot eyes. He looked scared.
“On and off for about an hour or so.” He walked her into what used to be the dining room. She noticed the staircase had been fixed, but restored to its original character. The front rooms were mostly empty. Only a lone chair sat in the living room across the hall. All the built-in shelves and cabinets were bare. Painter’s equipment was strewn around the rooms.
“Please watch your step,” he said. “I’m renovating.”
She tried to ignore the stab of jealousy as she looked around, and then panic that he’d mess up the integrity of the house. When she stepped over the toys scattered among the tools, she realized she had only met Mr. Cahill. He never mentioned a wife or children. She peeked at his empty ring finger.
“Max is in the other room,” he said, as he walked her through the hall to the old sewing room off the kitchen. “I administered the medication you gave me.”
She grimaced as she rounded the corner. The room looked like a make-shift bedroom. An air mattress sat on the ground, with piles of clothes lined against the wall. Max lay on the mattress with a quilt underneath his head. He was unresponsive, but it looked like the seizure had stopped.
She rubbed the dog’s head as her other hand checked his abdomen. “Look, Mr. Cahill, Max’s quality of life is not good.”
He frowned, but nodded his head. “I know it’s time.”
She knelt next to Max on the bed, at eye level with the dog. She had seen animals hold on even when nature comes calling them home, however, never did this moment get easy. She rubbed the top of his head. “You’ve been a very good boy, haven’t you, Max?”
“Just tell me what to do,” he said, his eyes red and swollen.
“You can just comfort him.”
Mr. Cahill nodded, looking away as he sat on the mattress, placing Max’s head in his lap. He rubbed the dog’s head softly as Elizabeth pulled out the first syringe with the sedative. It would take ten minutes, ten of the longest minutes, watching someone lose a loved one. Her heart wasn’t that cold.
Max’s body began to relax, and Adam whispered something into the dog’s ear. Usually, she’d explain the process. People liked to understand what was happening, knowing there was no pain for their loved one. “Would you like to stay in the room when I administer the final injection?”
“Yes.” He didn’t lift his head, just pushed it further into the crook of Max’s neck, buried under his fur.
Elizabeth gently gathered the skin on Max’s hind leg and injected the lethal dose. Mr. Cahill’s shoulders quietly shuddered as Max took his last breaths. She usually didn’t get emotional when she put down a dog, but watching as he silently fell apart in front of her tugged at her heart. She wanted to lean over and give him a hug. Tell him what she had learned over the years. Dogs didn’t fear death like humans. They accepted nature’s phenomena peacefully, but she wanted to give him his space.
Soon, Elizabeth couldn’t feel a pulse. When Max took his last breath, Mr. Cahill pulled the dog closer into his arms. All the contempt she had for the man disappeared as he hugged his dog for the last time.
Elizabeth got up from the floor, as quietly as she could, making sure she didn’t leave anything behind. She slipped out of the room, giving Mr. Cahill his privacy, and closed the door behind her. She didn’t know what he wanted to do with the body, but cremation would be the best option this time of year, if he hadn’t already dug a hole. Even though it was technically spring, the ground was still partially frozen, and it could be another month or more before it thawed.
As she came into the kitchen, she placed her ba
g on the oak farm table. She rubbed the worn wood with her fingertips and looked around the room. It appeared untouched by renovations, which made her glad. She always loved the kitchen the way it was. The only new addition was a leather couch that sat in front of the woodstove. It didn’t really work. Then there was the books. Lots of books. Books were stacked, one on top of the other. Books sat on a small table in between the chairs. Piles of books sitting next to each other, stacked haphazardly. The shelves had been stuffed with books in no formal order.
“Are you a fairy godmother?” a voice said from behind her.
Elizabeth swung around to see a little girl, holding a baby doll in her arms, standing at the bottom of the back staircase. She rubbed her eyes and wiped the loose strands from her braids away from her face. She was small, maybe six or seven.
“No, sorry.” Elizabeth didn’t know what to say to the little girl who now appeared a bit frightened by the stranger in her kitchen. “I’m Dr. Elizabeth. I’m here to help Max.”
Her face immediately went from fear to sadness. “Is he going to die?”
Elizabeth never had to tell a child her pet had passed away before, and she wasn’t exactly sure if it was the right thing to do. Mr. Cahill probably had his own way of wanting to deal with the death of the family pet. She thought of what her own mother might do in this situation.
Elizabeth stepped closer to the girl, got down to her level and decided to do what her mom did best. Distract her with food.
“Where does your daddy keep the treats?”
The little girl’s face lit up and she pointed to the pantry door. “We love chocolate chip cookies.” The little girl ran over to the table. “I bet ice cream goes good with chocolate chip cookies.”
“Yes, I bet it does,” Elizabeth laughed as she grabbed the cookies off the pantry shelf. “Do you like milk with them?”
The little girl squealed, “Oh boy, do I!”
Elizabeth opened the fridge, and luckily, she had guessed right. A gallon of milk sat inside. She found a small glass, grabbed a paper towel to use as a makeshift plate, and set a cookie in front of the girl.