by Sarah Morgan
Her morale was at rock bottom. A few months ago she would have shared that fact with her sister, but now she kept it to herself. There was an ache behind her ribs. She wasn’t sure if it was indigestion or a concentration of feelings she didn’t know what to do with. “Anyway, it’s irrelevant because I won’t be going anywhere for the next few days. How are things in the Hamptons? How is Grams? Seth?”
“Things are good. Grams is busy with her friends—you know what she’s like. She has a more active social life than anyone I know. And Seth is often working, but so am I. Walking on the beach is bliss, and there is so much more business here than I ever imagined.”
And when it came to finding business, Fliss had a nose like a terrier.
“Without you the Bark Rangers wouldn’t exist.”
“Hey, I might have set the thing up but you keep it rolling. Clients love you. Dogs love you.” Fliss paused. “Are you sure you won’t spend Christmas with us? I haven’t spent Christmas without you for my whole life. I’m going to miss you so much. It’s going to be weird.”
“It will be lovely.” Now who was being fake? “You’ll be with Seth’s family.”
“But you’re invited too. I wish you would come.”
Harriet thought about spending Christmas with a bunch of people she didn’t know. Fliss would feel obliged to keep an eye on her. It would be excruciating. And anyway this, she’d decided, would be the biggest challenge of all. Christmas without her twin. It was like cutting the umbilical cord. If she could survive this, she could survive anything. It would be confidence building.
Providing she survived.
“I want to stay in the city. I love Manhattan at Christmas.” That much was true. It was her favorite time of year to be walking around the city. She lingered by store windows and watched people stagger along Fifth Avenue weighed down by bags and gifts. “They’re forecasting more snow. It will be magical. I love snow, although knowing my luck, I’ll probably slip and sprain my other ankle.”
“You might see Dr. Hot again.”
“And if that happened he’d probably be thinking why can’t this woman learn to walk.”
She’d thought about him a lot since that night. He’d had the most intense blue eyes. Tired blue eyes. She couldn’t begin to imagine how much stamina it took to do his job, to deal with the heaving mass of people in the waiting room and the life-and-death emergencies that were brought in with a fanfare of discordant sirens and flashing lights.
While sitting in the waiting room, she’d had plenty of time to watch him in action.
She’d noticed other staff stopping him to ask him questions, but she’d also noticed that he’d taken the time to talk to an old lady who had appeared lost and confused.
It had seemed to her in that brief moment of watching that he was everything to everybody.
The last thing he needed was a second visit from her.
By the time she ended the call with her sister it was dark outside.
The apartment felt emptier and quieter than ever.
“Christmas never used to be my best time of year when I was growing up.” She tipped food into the bowl for Teddy, the dachshund she was fostering for the local animal shelter. She loved dachshunds. They were lively and playful and unusually devoted. She adored Teddy’s affectionate nature, his silliness and the way he burrowed under her bedcovers. She even loved the way he stubbornly refused to go outdoors when it was raining. “You know how some people love it? It’s their favorite holiday and they can’t wait for it to come around. They start decorating right after Thanksgiving and they love everything that goes with it. That’s not me. Growing up, I always dreaded it. Do you have any idea what school is like for people who can’t sing or talk fluently? Nightmare. Instead of daily humiliation among the small group of people I mixed with, I had giant public humiliation. Worst of all was the year I had to sing ‘Silent Night’ as a solo. It should have been renamed Stammering Night.”
Teddy put his ears forward and tilted his head, sympathizing.
The great thing about dogs, Harriet thought, was that they always sympathized. It didn’t matter what the problem was. Teddy might not understand the words, but Harriet knew he understood the sentiment. She’d often wondered how it was that dogs could be so much more sensitive than humans.
“It wasn’t everyone. Mostly it was Johnny Hill. He was captain of the football team and he made my life hell.”
Teddy thrust his nose into her palm and gave her a comforting lick.
“Fliss punched him. She had to have eight stitches in her head and she was suspended for a while. She was always protecting me. Which was great, but I guess it stopped me learning to do it for myself.”
Teddy whined.
“Tomorrow you’ll be going to your forever home.” She stroked his silky fur, telling herself it was for the best. For Teddy, at least. “And that’s fine. I’m good with that, I really am. I just want what’s best for you and this is definitely what’s best for you.”
Teddy put his head in her lap, looking sorrowful. She could almost convince herself he understood every word she was saying.
“You’re going to be the perfect Christmas gift for them. The family has a weekend home upstate with forty-two acres. Imagine what you can do with that after living here with me. You won’t have to pee on the same tree twice. You’ll be able to dig, and we both know how much you love digging. And I’m going to be fine. After a day or two, I won’t even notice you’re not here.”
She was even lying to the dog now.
What was wrong with her?
Teddy looked at her and she dropped to her knees, wincing as pain shot through her ankle.
“Give me a hug, you lovely thing.”
Teddy launched himself at her chest and she cuddled him, comforted by the warmth of his body. The people adopting Teddy were one lucky family.
“The doctor said I need to ice my ankle. Fancy watching some TV on the sofa? How about Gilmore Girls?”
Teddy wagged his tail.
One day, Harriet thought as she limped to the sofa with him in her arms, she was going to snuggle on the sofa with someone who didn’t have four legs and a wagging tail. Someone as caring and sympathetic as a dog, but with more physical appeal.
Maybe even a gorgeous doctor with blue eyes.
She rolled her eyes. Why did she keep thinking about him? He’d had physical appeal, that was undeniable. But there had been something remote and inaccessible about him, as if he’d drawn a barrier between himself and his patients.
Hot he might be, but he wasn’t her type at all.
A FEW DAYS later Ethan was woken by his phone.
He reached out to grab it and knocked it on the floor.
Emitting curses learned from years in the ER, he retrieved it from under the table and answered it.
“Black.”
“Ethan?”
“Debra?” Recognizing his sister’s voice, he tried to force himself awake. “Everything all right?”
“No.” Her voice sounded thickened. “There’s been an accident.”
“Who? Where?” He sat up, still in that state of disorientation that followed being woken from deep sleep.
“It’s Karen. She’s been hit by a car.”
“What?” Ethan stood up, fully awake now. He was used to delivering bad news. Less accustomed to receiving it. His niece, Karen, was in her first year of college in California and had been having a great time. He adored her, probably because he’d long since accepted that he was unlikely to have children of his own. His sister was ten years older and the birth of her daughter, Karen, when he was sixteen years old had been a highlight. In some ways he was more like an older brother to her than an uncle. “What’s her condition? Do you want me to call the hospital and talk to the medical team?”
“I’ve already spoken with them. They’re discharging soon but she won’t be able to put weight on her leg for a couple of weeks. Mark is still in the Far East. He’ll fly straight to San Fr
ancisco but it will take him a long time to get there. I need to leave today. I’ve booked a flight for this afternoon.”
Ethan glanced at the time. “I’ll come with you.”
“You can’t do that. You’ll be working.”
It was true. “Family is more important. I’m coming. I’ll make it work.” He tried not to think about the colleagues he’d be letting down or the research work that was waiting for him. If his sister needed him, she needed him. As far as he was concerned, that was the end of it.
“I can do this on my own, but you have no idea what it means to me that you offered.”
“Debra—”
“No. I mean it. I can do this.”
“If you don’t want me to come with you, what can I do? There has to be something.”
There was a pause. “Is that a genuine offer?”
“Of course.” Ethan checked the time and decided it wasn’t worth going back to sleep again. “What do you need?”
“I need you to take Madi for a few days. Maybe more than a few days. It could be a week or more before we’re home.”
“Madi?” It took Ethan a moment to work out who she was talking about. His sister only had one child. “You mean the dog?”
“I suppose Madi is a dog, although we think of her more as one of the family. She has remarkably human characteristics.”
“You want me to look after the dog?” Ethan jammed his fingers into his hair. “No. Just—no, Debs.”
“You said you’d help. You said ‘anything.’”
“Anything but that!”
“You were willing to fly to California, but you won’t take my dog?! This is so much easier.”
“Not for me. I’m out of this apartment twenty hours out of twenty-four.”
“All the more reason to have Madi for a week or two. She will give you something to come home to.”
Ethan had a strong suspicion she’d give him a few things to come home to, none of which would be welcome.
“There’s a reason I don’t own a dog, Deb. And that reason is that I’m not in a position to give an animal the care and attention it deserves.”
“This is an emergency. I wouldn’t be asking otherwise. I don’t know how long I’ll be on the West Coast. Karen needs me—” her voice wobbled “—please, Ethan. I promise Madi will be no trouble at all.”
It was the wobble in her voice that did it.
He couldn’t remember ever seeing his big sister cry. Not even when he’d put a frog in her backpack when she was twelve.
He felt himself weaken. Dammit. “Why can’t you put it in doggy day care? Or overnight care—a dog hotel—whatever it is people do with their pets.”
What did people do with their pets? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about.
“We tried that for a night when Mark won that award and had to go to Chicago. We made a weekend of it and put her in overnight boarding, but Madi almost scratched her fur out she was so stressed. Now we make a point of going places where we can take her with us. She’d be so much happier with human company.”
Not if the human was him. “I’m not great company after a day in the ER. I think I have what they call compassion fatigue.”
“She doesn’t need compassion. All she needs is food, walks and occasional company. I want to keep her routine as close to normal as possible so I’m going to continue with the dog walker while I’m away.”
“Dog walker?”
“I use a company called the Bark Rangers. They cover the whole of the East Side of Manhattan so they won’t have any problems coming to your apartment instead of mine. Easy. And she’s a lovely girl.”
“Who is a lovely girl?”
“Harriet. My dog walker. Actually I don’t suppose girl is the right word. She must be late twenties.”
He didn’t care how old she was. “So she walks the dog for one hour a day—”
“Two. She’ll come twice.”
“Two hours a day. What happens to the dog for the other twenty-two hours?”
“Will you stop calling her ‘the dog’? You’re going to hurt her feelings.”
“Yet another reason not to leave her with your cold unfeeling brother. If she’s that sensitive, you don’t want to leave her with someone as insensitive as me.”
“You’re a doctor. You’re not insensitive.”
“I have it on expert authority that I’m insensitive.”
“If this is about your ex-wife—”
“Her name is Alison, we are on excellent terms and her comment was entirely justified. I am insensitive. And I know nothing about dogs.”
“It’s not complicated, Ethan. You feed them, you walk them. If you could bring yourself to talk to her, she’d probably appreciate that too.”
“And what’s she going to do the rest of the time?”
“She will happily sleep in her crate.”
Ethan glanced round his apartment. Nothing had been moved since the cleaning service had been there two days previously. Mostly because he hadn’t been here, either. One way to ensure you didn’t make a mess of your home was to never be in it. “Are you sure that’s what she’ll do?”
“Yes. And if you do this it will stop Karen worrying. Madi is her dog.” His sister, sensing weakness, pounced. “The whole family thanks you.”
Ethan knew he was beaten. And truthfully he was too worried about his niece to dwell on the practicalities of caring for a dog. “Call me with an update as soon as you get there. And if you’re not happy with what they’ve told her at the hospital let me know and I’ll make some calls. I know a few people around there.”
“You know everyone.”
“We meet at medical conferences. It’s a surprisingly small world. What time will you be dropping off this dog?”
“On my way to the airport. I’ll walk her before I leave her with you, and we need to arrange for Harriet to meet you later. When works for you?”
None of it worked for him.
“Tonight? I’ll try and get away early.”
“Good. I’ll give her my key to your apartment in case you’re late, then she can go ahead and walk Madi. Practice saying her name, Ethan. Madi. Not ‘the dog.’ Madi.”
“I need to go. I have two hours to dogproof—sorry, I mean Madi-proof—my home.”
“You won’t need to. She’s very civilized.”
“She’s a dog.”
“You’re going to love her.”
Ethan doubted it. Life, he knew, was rarely that simple.
CHAPTER FOUR
“MRS. SULLIVAN?” HARRIET paused in the doorway of the apartment, the key in her hand, an array of bags at her feet. Her ankle throbbed, but not as much as it had a few days earlier. Hopefully that was a good sign. “It’s me! Harriet. Are you there? You didn’t answer the door and I didn’t want to make you jump.”
“Harriet?” Glenys Sullivan appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, holding tightly to a walker. “Harvey and I were worried about you, sweetheart. You’re late.”
“I’m moving a little slower today.” Harriet closed the door. She was worried about Glenys too. She’d lost weight since her husband had died ten months earlier and Harriet knew she was struggling. As a result she’d taken to dropping in whenever she was passing. And if sometimes “passing” meant taking a detour, that was fine with her. She didn’t often see her clients once the dog-walking arrangements were confirmed, so she enjoyed the interaction. “I took a bit of a tumble a few days ago and I’ve been off my feet. Silly me.”
Glenys had lived in the same sunny apartment on the Upper East Side for almost five decades, surrounded by her books, her furniture and her collection of china dogs.
“You fell? Is it icy out there?”
“Not yet, but it’s coming. They’re forecasting snow and my fingers are freezing. I need to find my gloves.” Harriet carried the bags through to the kitchen, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She’d rested it for a couple of days, icing it as the doctor had instructed. It still hur
t but she was tired of being trapped in her apartment and she’d wanted to check on Glenys. “I didn’t want you to find yourself with an empty fridge. It’s crazy out there. People are clearing the shelves and we’ve had around four snowflakes so far.” She bent to make a fuss over Harvey, an eight-year-old West Highland terrier she’d been walking for two years. Often she handed walks to their reliable team of dog walkers, but there were a few she did herself and Harvey was one of them. He was sweet-tempered and smart. Harriet adored him.
“I remember the storm of 2006, we had twenty-eight inches of snow, but even that wasn’t as bad as the blizzard of 1888.”
Harriet straightened. “You weren’t alive in 1888, Glenys.”
“My great-grandmother used to talk about it. The railroads were blocked by drifts. Some of the commuters were trapped for days. You could walk across the East River from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Can you imagine that?”
“No. Hopefully it’s not going to be that bad this time, but if it is you’re not going to starve.” Harriet pushed the last of the canned food into the cupboard. “Did you eat lunch today?”
“I ate a big lunch.”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“No, but I don’t want to worry you. Truth is, I wasn’t hungry.”
Harriet made a tutting sound. “You need to eat, Glenys. You have to keep your strength up.”
“What do I need strength for? I never leave this apartment. My bones aren’t fit for much.”
“Did you get to the doctor? Did you tell him your pain is worse?” She unloaded the bags into the fridge, automatically checking the dates on the few items already in there. She ditched a cheese covered in mold and some tomatoes that looked as if they were about to turn themselves into puree.
“He said the pain is worse because my arthritis is worse. He also said I need to keep moving. Which makes no sense. How am I supposed to keep moving if my arthritis is worse? They don’t know anything, these doctors.”