“Boy, did I ever learn something today,” Mona said.
“Yeah?” I looked at her.
“It’s so easy to misunderstand other people’s intentions, even those we’re close to. We can’t see inside their hearts, you know?”
I nodded and thought of my mother. If I had a dollar for each misunderstanding we’d ever had, I would be rich. I wouldn’t be forced to take on patients like George Moss. But I’d never been able to get past the fake eyelashes and the heavy eye shadow and the mound of junk that surrounded her.
“I’m a terrible daughter,” I said.
“Your mom isn’t easy,” Mona told me.
“I’m supposed to be this expert in relationships, but I’ve never been able to enjoy a close one with my own mother, and my marriage lasted all of three years. What does that tell you?”
“It isn’t too late to fix things,” Mona said.
After I closed the office and once I attended to Mike and her puppies, I drove to Little Five Points and parked behind my mother and aunt’s new store. I found my mother at the stove in the kitchen. My mouth watered at the smells of her cooking. She wore a denim jumpsuit with matching eye shadow, and sported several oversized rings that she’d obviously purchased at the local flea market. She looked surprised to see me.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“Nothing,” I told her. “I just thought I’d drop by.”
“Well, if you’re here to see your Aunt Trixie, she’s straightening up the studio.”
“I’m here to see you, Mom.”
She looked doubtful. “I hope you’re here to tell me those mongrels are gone.”
“Nope. They’re still with me.”
“Then it must be about your aunt Lou. She told me how you turned your back on her when she came to you pleading for help with her vaginal problems. I just want you to know I’m not getting in the middle of it.”
“Mom?”
“I only have one piece of advice where your aunt Lou is concerned: try to steer clear of her for the next couple of weeks. At least until her itching eases up.”
It suddenly occurred to me that, no matter how hard we tried, my mother and I would continue to rub each other wrong most of the time.
“I hope you’re staying for dinner,” she said after a moment. “I’m making my specialty, chicken-fried steak smothered with onions and gravy.”
“That’s my favorite!” I said. I saw her pleased smile. She had always been a great cook. That went a long way toward making up for the touchy-feely relationship we lacked.
I arrived home feeling like a stuffed goose, after all I’d eaten. An anxious-looking Mike met me at the front door, but when I tried to let her outside, she wasn’t interested. Instead, she went into the laundry room. I followed. I noted Runt lying by himself in the corner of the box. He was so tiny. I picked him up carefully, and my heart turned over in my chest at the cool, lifeless body.
Tears filled my eyes as I wrapped him in a towel. I wondered what to do with him. I put him on my washing machine and went to the phone. I called Jeff Henry’s office and left a message. He returned my call immediately.
“One of the puppies is dead,” I said, trying to swallow back my tears.
“The runt?” he asked gently.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, Kate.”
More tears. “I don’t know what to do with him. If he were a goldfish, I’d know what to do, but he’s not a goldfish. I don’t know what to do.”
“How far are you from my office?”
“Um.” I tried to think. “Five or ten minutes,” I finally said.
“Give me your address. I’ll drive over and pick him up.”
I didn’t try to talk him out of it, even though I suspected it was an inconvenience and I would probably be charged for it. I gave him my address and returned to the laundry room, where I found Mike with her front paws pressed against the front of the washer, her nails clicking against the metal as she tried to reach her puppy.
“No, girl,” I said and slipped my fingers inside her collar. I led her toward the box and convinced her to lie down, but I could tell she was anxious, even as her healthy puppies began to nurse. I sat on the floor and petted her. “I’m sorry,” I said as fresh tears hit me. I kept petting her and telling her how sorry I was.
The doorbell rang, and I went to answer it. Jeff Henry stood on the other side, holding a small cardboard box. “Where’s the pup?” he asked. I led him into the laundry room and pointed. I was so distraught, I didn’t care that my kitchen looked like a demolition site. Jeff very gently put the little bundle in his box. Once again I had to coax Mike to her bed.
“I’ll be right back,” he said.
When he returned, I was sitting next to Mike’s box, petting her and trying to soothe her. “I guess she knows what’s going on,” I told him. He sat on the floor as well.
“She’ll be a little anxious for a while. How are you doing?”
I brushed tears from my cheeks. “I feel terrible about this. I shouldn’t have gone out tonight. I should have stayed and made sure he ate. I should have asked you to teach me how to feed Runt with that tube you mentioned.”
“I don’t think it would have made a difference, Kate. Some puppies are born too small and too weak. You did what you could.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t stop crying. It was just one more loss I had to deal with. “You don’t have to stay,” I said. “Besides, I know the floor is uncomfortable. I just don’t want to leave Mike.”
“The floor doesn’t bother me,” he said. “I once had to crawl beneath an old car to help a Bluetick hound give birth. She bit me twice,” he added with a chuckle. “I was nine years old at the time.”
“You were obviously born to do this kind of work.”
“I grew up on a farm. I discovered at an early age that I got along better with animals than people.”
That surprised me, because he seemed so personable, and he was stylishly dressed, his beige linen slacks and powder blue oxford shirt neatly pressed. His brown hair was neat, his face made more handsome by his tendency to smile easily.
We both stroked Mike’s head and talked softly. Mike finally settled down and went to sleep. Jeff moved beside me, and we leaned against the wall. “Thank you for coming,” I said. “I didn’t know I would take it so hard.”
He took my hand and squeezed it. “It bothers me, too,” he said, “and I do this sort of thing for a living. But the little fellow is in puppy heaven now,” he added, “so you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
I looked at him. “You really think there’s a heaven for dogs?”
“Of course,” he said. “Animals give so much love. What would a heaven be without them?”
I could certainly see Runt admitted into heaven more quickly than somebody like Bitsy Stout, who could quote scripture word for word but did her best to make people miserable.
“I’m going through some crummy stuff in my personal life right now,” I said. “I guess that’s one reason I’m so upset about Runt.”
“I’m sorry you’re having a tough go of it. I’m a good listener.”
I hesitated. “I’m going to be divorced Friday at eleven a.m.”
“Oh, boy, that’s a tough one. You and your husband can’t work things out?”
I shrugged. “We’ve tried. But the arguments are always the same. Like playing a broken record, but the grooves are pretty worn out and the music is scratchy.”
“That’s a unique way to put it.”
“Have you ever been married?”
“No. I don’t think it’s in the cards for me.”
Again, I was surprised, and I wondered if he’d suffered a broken heart as well. But he didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push. He told me about vet school and setting up his practice. He asked me about my own practice, having read on his office form that I was a psychologist. At some point I must’ve dozed because, when I opened my eyes, I was mortified to find my head
on his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I think I drifted off for a few minutes myself.” He checked his wristwatch. “It’s after midnight. I should get home. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes.” I noticed Mike was calm as well. She remained still, even as her pups nursed greedily.
I was yawning as I led Jeff to the front door. He took my hand for the second time that evening and squeezed it. “I’ll call you tomorrow and see how Mike and her kiddos are doing,” he said. “Try to get some sleep.”
I thanked him and watched him walk to his car. Despite being sad over losing Runt, I had enjoyed spending time with Jeff. He was easy to talk to, and it was obvious he cared about his little patients. As he pulled from my drive, I wondered if it was his custom to make house calls. I was almost certain he wasn’t accustomed to sitting on a woman’s laundry room floor while she cried and then fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. I wondered if I was developing a small crush on the handsome veterinarian.
Or, maybe, I was just hoping there was still something left of my heart after its having been so thoroughly shattered.
The next morning, as I waited for Jack and Martha Hix to arrive for their weekly couples counseling session, I told Mona about losing Runt and spending part of the evening with Dr. Henry. “I need to call Mrs. Perez and let her know,” I said.
“I’m sorry you lost the puppy,” Mona said, “but I know you and Mrs. Perez worked hard to keep the little fellow going.” She smiled. “One good thing that came out of it was meeting Dr. Henry. You like him, don’t you?”
“I can’t help but like him.”
“No, I mean, you really like him. Like him as in wanting to see what’s under his white lab coat.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Mona, but I haven’t even thought of it. He’s just a very nice man who happens to be good-looking as well.”
“I guess it’s hard to think of a man in that light when you’re still in love with your husband, huh?” she said. “Friday will be here before you know it.”
We exchanged looks. The sudden lump in my throat that always showed up when I thought about Jay, along with the loss of Runt, kept me from answering at first. “I used to think love was enough, Mona,” I said. “I used to think if two people loved each other, they could get through anything. But that’s not the way it is in real life.”
Mona just looked at me. “That is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” she said.
“Sorry.”
She shrugged. “But it brings us back to what we were discussing,” she said. “If your marriage is over, maybe it’s time to start thinking about what the cute Dr. Henry looks like under his lab coat.”
chapter 15
I saw the crowd in front of my house as I turned onto my street; at least two dozen people were carrying large signs that read WIPE OUT PORNOGRAPHY. I felt like turning around and driving in the opposite direction. Damn that Bitsy Stout; she insisted on making my life miserable.
As I drove closer, I saw her leading the group. Several of my neighbors watched from lawn chairs in their front yards, and cars were parked along the street, passengers staring from the windows. I muttered a four-letter word when I spied a white van bearing the name of our local news station and a reporter talking into a camera.
Just a typical day in my screwed-up life, I thought.
I pulled into my driveway, only to be rushed by the reporter, who banged on my window. I rolled it down.
“Are you Kate Holly?” he asked.
The news camera was directed right at me. “I’m Dr. Holly,” I said, sounding as professional as I could under the circumstances. “May I help you?”
“Are you aware that you have a pornographic statue in your flower bed?”
“I have a statue, but I assure you there is nothing pornographic about it. Actually, it’s a religious piece created by my mother and my aunt, who are artists. Would you please step back so I can get out of my car?”
The reporter did as I asked, even though the cameraman continued to film. Once I climbed from my car, the reporter wasted no time grilling me. I was thankful I was wearing my best black-and-white pinstriped suit.
“We understand the entire congregation from a local church is demanding that you remove the statue,” he said.
“Yes,” I said squarely into the camera. “Not only have some of the members trespassed onto my property, they’ve defaced it and made threatening phone calls to my office.” I had to pause to catch my breath. “I think your viewers would be better served if you investigated the validity of the so-called church.” I smiled pleasantly. I’ll have to admit that even I was impressed with my handling of the situation. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call my attorney.”
The reporter looked into the camera, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he gave an overview to those just tuning in. It amazed me that Bitsy Stout and her nutso church group had managed to get live coverage. It wasn’t as though Atlanta lacked for news.
I held my head high and walked calmly to my front door, but I was so mad I felt I could have torn it open with my teeth. I could tell Bitsy was having the time of her life parading about with her buddies. I wondered which of the men in her group had threatened me.
I heard Mike barking from inside as I unlocked my door. I had to grab her collar to keep her from darting out when she caught sight of all the people. I let her out the back door and called Mona.
“I need a lawyer,” I said and gave her a quick rundown of what was happening.
“I hope you were holding in your stomach,” Mona said. “I hear TV makes you look ten pounds heavier.”
As always, Mona had her priorities in order, but at the moment I was too angry to care what my stomach looked like on TV. “I don’t even like that statue,” I said. “I’d dig it up myself if I weren’t afraid I’d hurt Mom and Trixie’s feelings.”
“I don’t remember seeing it,” Mona said.
“You’ve seen my living room, if that tells you anything. I’m surprised they haven’t stuck pink flamingos in my yard as well.”
“Poor Kate,” she said. “You might have to move into a trailer park so you’ll blend. I’ll call my attorney right away.”
I checked on the puppies and felt a stab of sorrow in my heart that Runt was no longer among them. I tried to imagine him playing and tumbling about with other puppies in doggie heaven. Mrs. Perez had been sorry to hear that Runt hadn’t made it, but she was convinced he was in a better place. She’d watched a TV psychic tell a woman that her deceased mother, as well as her mother’s beloved but long-deceased shih tzu, were together in the afterlife.
I was surprised to discover that Jeff Henry had called, as promised, to make sure I was okay and to remind me to contact him, night or day, if I needed him. I knew Mona would read more into it, but I told myself I’d lucked out and found a really nice vet. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure I would recognize the difference between a man who was simply being nice to me and one who was showing interest.
I let Mike in, gave her a treat, and freshened her food and water. I could tell she was antsy over the sounds coming from my front yard. “I should have told you about my crazy neighbor before you moved in,” I said. “In the meantime, you’re going to have to stay in your room.” I put her in the laundry room and closed the door.
Mona called back from her cell phone. “I’m on my way over,” she said. “My attorney advised you to call the police. Bitsy and her church people have no legal right to picket without a permit, and if they set one foot in your yard, they’re trespassing.”
“Of course they’re trespassing,” I said, peeking out my living room window. “They’re all over my front yard. Fortunately the news van is gone. Damn, I hate getting the police involved. Especially since they have it on record that I threatened Bitsy and gave her the finger,” I added.
“What are you going to do?”
“Ignore them. That will spoil Bitsy’s fun, because she hates being ignored.”
“I have an idea,” Mona said. “It might just solve your problems. I’ll see you shortly.”
I went upstairs to change. I was hungry, but I didn’t feel like cooking. My doorbell rang, and I hurried to let Mona in. Instead I found my mother and Aunt Trixie standing on the other side.
“We saw you on TV,” my mother said. “Where’s that dog of yours?”
“I put her in the laundry room,” I said and stepped back to let them in.
“You looked really nice talking to that newsman,” my aunt said, “and you came across so well.”
“Did I look fat?”
“Oh, no,” she said.
“You could have improved your posture,” my mother said, “but I’m probably the only one who noticed.”
I looked at her. “You think?”
My mother stood at the window, peering through the curtains. “Just so you know, I gave Bitsy a piece of my mind,” she said. “I told her she and her church group were nothing but a bunch of crazy Holy Rollers.”
“What did she say?”
“She said God was on their side.”
“Oh, great,” I said. “I’ll probably be swarmed by locusts.” I barely got the words out of my mouth before I heard a couple of loud thunks outside my door.
“You are not going to believe what they’re doing!” my mother all but shouted. “That idiot woman is throwing rocks at the statue. That’s it! I’m going out there to kick some butt!”
“No!” I said, racing toward the door and flattening myself against it to block her. My mother tried to get past me, and we did a little dance. “You are not going out there!” I looked at my aunt. “Call nine-one-one.” I figured it would be easier facing the cops than pulling my mother off Bitsy.
Mona and the police pulled up within seconds of each other. I gave my mother a stern look. “I’m going outside to take care of this, and I except you to stay put,” I said. “If you start any trouble, you can forget grandchildren.”
My mother shrank back.
What Looks Like Crazy Page 16