X's and O's (Will Kilpatrick, DVM Mystery Series Book 1)

by A. Carlock Maxwell DVM

  Will chuckled. "None of my other patients said anything about it."

  "Don't take that as approval."

  Minutes later, he held it to a light and checked it. "One hundred three. You get much hotter and you'll need a fire permit. Do you hurt anywhere?"

  She patted her head. "Even my hair hurts."

  "Quit kidding. Any specific aches?"

  "My right armpit is pretty tender. Something is swollen."

  His head tilted in thought. "Could be the infection traveled from your hands up the lymphatics. Might be an enlarged node."

  Hugging herself tighter as her body shook, her lips puckered into a frown. Should she ask him to check it? The anticipation of him poking his fingers in her sweaty armpit brought her to the precipice of a panic attack. The participation would require psychotropic drugs. "Sounds logical. But you'll have to take my word for it."

  He looked relieved. After he scooted a pile of magazines and pictures and the Mary, Queen of Scots book aside, he sat on the sturdy coffee table. Andy would have taken a seat next to her, then drawn closer. "Been able to drink anything?"

  "A little juice. Mainly I've piled up in bed." She pushed up to a sitting position. "Are you ready to take me down a pint?"

  "I guess so." Will scooted the coffee table closer to the couch. He fumbled in his pocket for a syringe and needle and dropped them on the floor. In his scramble to retrieve them, he banged his head on the wing of the sofa.

  She winced. "I feel my confidence rising."

  "Do not be alarmed. This is only a test. In case of a real blood test, you will hear the warning siren."

  She uncoiled an arm from the blanket and extended it for Will to apply a latex tourniquet. Her forearm glistened with perspiration. He wiped it off with a gauze pad, replaced it with sweat dripping from his brow. "Between us, we could put out a fire, I reckon." Or start one.

  The flush spreading across his features didn't make concentrating any easier. She squished her eyes tight. Though her jaws clenched at the needle stick, she maintained her composure, relieved when she opened her eyes to see blood flowing into the syringe.

  ***

  Miss Effie pickled the air with Clove fumes as the centrifuge spun the blood sample. She had been walking a boarded dog when he arrived. Her hair color had made another spectral change overnight, from pale blue to cotton candy pink. Cindi Lauper looked like Margaret Thatcher next to her.

  When he didn't say anything, she spoke. "Got an emergency Bang's test or something?"

  "Maybe."

  She leaned against the wall, a sack of fidgets. "That's all? Maybe?"

  "What more does maybe involve?" Will set up the heat light and plate for the test, ignoring her information quest.

  "Why, it could mean all sorts of things."

  "Oh." A bell rang as the centrifuge cut off in the next room. Its sound changed as it slowed. "I hadn't thought about it like that."

  "That's right obvious." She followed him there and back.

  He pulled serum into a pipette, deposited it on the test plate. With a small wire loop, he mixed several drops of blue reagent into the sample. He set the timer for five minutes and moved to the pharmacy.

  "Somebody selling a cow today?" She filled the coffee maker with water as he ground a handful of beans. He inhaled its invigorating aroma. "I can't remember Dr. Bill ever checking one on a Sunday. That's the only reason you run that test, right?"

  "Maybe."

  She grabbed paper towels and made a show of cleaning the counter. "I hope you realize maybe is not the universal answer to every question. Something is going on. It's written all over you."

  "Read it then."

  "Heard you and PJ were at Back When the other night. Some folks say she's get her line baited for you. I don't know, so I wouldn't say. I'm sure a grown man like you can see through that kind of stuff. But in case you can't, I'd keep my peepers wide. And I hear Skeets is ready to pick up wherever it was y'all left off." She laughed. "Marry her and you could drive like Dr. Bill and never get a ticket."

  "Thanks for the update on my life. I haven't been able to keep up with it myself."

  The timer's ding called him to the lab. He lifted the plate, gently swirled the test, reset the timer for another five minutes. The phone rang, but Miss Effie answered it first. She had hung up when he rejoined her. She coolly pointed to his cup of coffee. He took a sip, sighing in appreciation while checking the note pad for a message. Nothing.

  "Emergency?" That would really throw the day into a full-fledged snarl.

  "Maybe." She chewed the Clove concisely, one eyebrow lifted.

  "What kind of answer is that?"

  "I guess it's an emergency if Liza Hall's blood test shows up positive." Her accumulated offense erupted in a resentful sulk. "It grieves me when you don't tell me what's going on here." When he didn't respond, she continued. "I didn't know we were taking on two-legged patients."

  "It's a strange set of circumstances." Why was he defending himself? He was only helping someone in need.

  "I'm sure it is. And I'm sure it's none of my business, but are you going to miss church to give her special ministry?"

  Will stared at her. A grand mal seizure would be rather soothing about now. "I don't know yet. I was going to take Jug Marlin with me."

  She lifted a hand to fan her face, mottled with panic. "What? Did you talk to anyone about that?"

  "Do you have to have reservations for church these days?"

  "No, it's just that..." Her word stumbled over each other.

  The bell rang, causing Will to jump. "Excuse me."

  She followed him into the lab. "Well?"

  Will stared at the agglutination in the sample. "Positive."

  A contrite look crept over Miss Effie's face. "That can be bad, can't it?"

  "Sometimes." He strode to the pharmacy, grabbed a bottle of tetracycline capsules, and began counting out enough for a month. "We've diagnosed it early, so she should do fine. Might be weak for a bit."

  "And the poor child's still running that farm by herself, isn't she? I feel terrible about it. Do you need me to go help?"

  "Don't think so." Liza faced enough tension without the ministrations of the Typhoid Mary of stress carriers. "I forgot to ask, but did you get a chance to check on our Bang's vaccine inventory?"

  "Looks like we're eight bottles shy. He hadn't done any in months before Spivey's bunch. We only order it when someone makes an appointment." She chuckled. "Looks like Otis has been having some chickens come home to roost. Have you seen some of his opponent's latest political signs? The ones with an O with a slash through it?"

  "I think so. But can't remember where." On Momma's porch. On Nugget.

  "Between you and me and the cows in the barn, I think it means more than it appears."

  "Such as?"

  "Rumor was that one of the clubs he belonged to in high school, the Os, stood for their blood type."

  "Where did you hear that?"

  "Can't remember. Heard it a long time back. Hadn't thought of it in a while."

  "I'm not connecting the dots."

  "Me neither. But I'm going to."

  Will waved a hand at her. "Solve Uncle Bill's murder while you're at it."

  ***

  Liza's soft snores advertised she still slept. Fatigued eyes fluttered open, saw Will, widened as she clutched at the quilt while assuring herself she was adequately covered. A pale finger wiped at wet hair smeared across her face.

  "What's up, Doc?" She murmured the words through a sleepy smile. In this condition, she seemed more human than she had as a client.

  "I'm afraid you'll have to be branded and go to a sale. You've got it."

  "That's what I figgered." She fought to a sitting position. Her teeth clattered while she rearranged her draping. Only her nose and toes showed when she finished.

  "I brought some antibiotics for you to start taking until you can see a doctor." He handed her two orange and yellow capsules, surprised at how warm
her hand felt. "Do you need some water to wash them down with?"

  She made a yuck face. "Yeah. It's like swallowing a dried out slug otherwise."

  He returned with a glass of water. He glanced at his watch. "If you'll tell me what chores need done, I'll tend to them before I go home for a bit."

  Her eyes hardened, giving them the look of fire-glazed pottery. Her emotions could turn faster than a Quarter Horse. "I can manage, thanks. I'm already feeling some better."

  "The pills are still in your hand."

  She popped them in her mouth, took a swallow of water, gagged, turned red, then gave a faux-sweet smile. "There. Now you can leave. I can take care of myself."

  Will sighed, followed by an exaggerated nod. "There's Little Miss Pride again. Help me figure this out. You ask me to come over, draw blood, test it, and that's okay. I volunteer to do something and it's not okay."

  Green eyes turned toward the mirror. "If you must know, its because you looked at your watch."

  He tucked his chin and frowned. "I can't say I understand."

  "That's obvious. But if you don't have time, I can get by. Always have. Always will."

  He chuckled. "I'll call Andy then. I can see it now. Him sitting by your bedside, petting the back of your hand. Singing you a lullaby." He began singing, suspected his voice was worse than her problem.

  Liza launched a stony glare before retreating behind the quilt, shoulders shaking with laughter. Laughter quickly dissolving into tears. When she peeked out a minute later, Will's confused matched hers. "Maybe you could pray."

  By the time he said amen, the sodden sounds behind the blanket had subsided. Red eyes peered through an elliptical hole.

  "There's not many chores right now. Cows don't need fed. Just count them." She gave him the number to expect. "Throw some scratch feed at the chickens. Feed Blue and Clarice. I guess it'll be OK if you do that." The hole closed, cut off the conversation, sealed her from view.

  A welcome line of rain clouds advanced as he went about the tasks. Fine drizzle settled the dust as he climbed the back porch steps and came into the kitchen. How had it gotten to be one o'clock so fast?

  He padded on tiptoe to the living room. The steady rise and fall of the quilt declared that sleep had again overtaken her. He left her a note, saying he'd stop by later that afternoon.

  On his way out, he picked up the picture of her and the puppy, stared at it, slipped it into his shirt pocket.

  Chapter 34

  Halfway to town, Will spied Pastor Gentry walking toward town. He stopped and offered him a lift, surprised to find him out on Sunday afternoon.

  Gentry rolled the window down after closing the door. "I see you're still with us another day. Sign the papers yet?"

  Will turned to face him. What did Gentry know about the papers? He hadn't mentioned them to him. People in the Springs knew more about his life than he did. "Not yet."

  Gentry's grunt carried a sense of surprise, as if he'd lost a bet. "Missed you in church. Been on a call out this way?"

  "Liza Hall's."

  "From your face, it wasn't good." Gentry rested an arm on the open window. "Anything you can talk about?"

  "Do you know her well?"

  "Nobody did except her dad. Maybe her friend, PJ. They've always been private. Came to church now and again."

  "This is hard to believe, but I first started wanting to be a vet when she and her dad were in Uncle Bill's office. They had a pup with a broken leg. I was eleven." His face darkened as he mulled it over. "It sounds strange, but I saw a picture of her and the dog the other night. Right in her living room."

  Gentry looked at Will with new interest. "Like a vision or a dream?"

  "More than that. This." Will took the photo from his shirt pocket and handed it to Gentry. He slowed to avoid a rabbit bouncing across the road and into the ditch. "The same mental picture I carried through college." His tone grew apologetic. "It sounds so melodramatic."

  Gentry ignored the disclaimer. "But it didn't mean anything to her?"

  "She barely remembered it." For no apparent reason, her not sharing the significance had been disappointing. Even though he wouldn't have known it was Liza. She had filled out in areas not hinted at in the photo. "Can I ask you something? It may sound weird."

  Gentry grinned. Long fingers worked against his chin as if it were a talisman. "As long as it's not weird and spooky too. I don't do spooky."

  Will relaxed a bit at Gentry's humor. "I went to where Uncle Bill is buried when I got to town."

  "And?" Gentry prompted Will when he fell silent.

  Will geared down to accommodate a tractor on the road. For once, he welcomed the slow traffic, since it would give him extra time with Gentry. "Do you believe God answers our prayers?"

  Gentry's answer didn't match his confused look. "I'd be wasting my time if I didn't."

  "Let me rephrase it. Does He answer them specifically? If I asked him for a picture, a word, or a vision, is that how he would answer me?"

  Gentry's lips pursed as he wiped off the rider's side mirror. "He's not obligated to, but I believe He shows grace, answers us in our weakness. He certainly humored Gideon's prayers."

  He appreciated Gentry not answering with preacher speak making him feel less than spiritual for having asked the question. "While I was at the cemetery, I prayed for a picture or word or vision to help me decide whether to stay or not. Friday, I saw this photo at Liza's. The same image that made me want to be a vet, helped me push through when school got tough and I wanted to quit. I'm wondering if that was God or coincidence."

  "With God, there is no coincidence."

  He responded with a non-committal shrug, figuring Gentry's answer to be a party line response.

  "So what's your question again? Sounds like you asked for a picture and got a picture."

  Will chuckled, attempting to cover the inner debate between walking by faith or by sight. "You're saying I should sign the papers? That's enough to go on?"

  "King David entered battle with less. Abraham left home with less. Noah built a boat with less."

  "But they didn't have cameras back then either." Maybe the banter would distract Gentry.

  Gentry's discerning eyes pinned him in a corner. "Were there other qualifiers? Did you ask for color pictures, black and white, three by five, six by ten, matte or glossy? Or did you leave it up to Him?"

  Will hoped his laugh sounded confident, concealed the doubts pressing his mind. "I wasn't real specific."

  "Then I'd say you have an answer. Unless you're going to throw fleeces until you get the answer you want." He fell silent a moment. "What else is bothering you about the Springs? And Liza?"

  It took a moment to muster his thoughts. He wasn't ready to discuss whether her being in the picture meant anything or not. Stick with what you think you're not sure of. "I don't know how to explain it, but I sense she's in some kind of trouble."

  "Trouble like what?" Gentry's tone grew serious.

  "There's a heaviness over her place." Will turned, offered a weak smile. "I wonder if it's spiritual forces. Not the good kind." He paused, hoping he hadn't embarrassed himself. "Maybe I should have asked first, but do you believe thats real?"

  Gentry nodded, widening his eyes in exaggeration. "If we could see what's going on in the spiritual realm for one minute, most of us would be too scared to do anything but pray. Probably in the bathroom."

  Will nodded, though wondering if Gentry was overstating the truth. "And she needs help keeping things going while she's sick, but she's too proud to accept it."

  The pastor's eyes probed Will's like surgical instruments. "So you're helping. Why? Because of the picture? Or because you feel sorry for her?" He shifted his position, waited for an answer. "Or because she's an extremely good looking gal? Or all three?"

  Will's eyes widened as he wrestled through the perceptive question. All three things influenced him. "I thought you were a pastor."

  Gentry grunted a chuckle. "I am, but not a bli
nd one. As you can tell by my lovely bride. Which takes us back to my question. Why do you want to help her?"

  "I'm not sure," he said, the picture of Liza overtaking his mental screen. "Mainly, because she needs it. And Uncle Bill left me a note saying to occasionally do crazy things for God and other people."

  Gentry crossed his legs, drummed a knee with his thumb. "Have you considered that the impression you carried of Liza and the pup signified more than what you've taken it to mean? More than just becoming a vet?"

  Will kept his eyes on the road through the conversational detour. He licked his lips. Was Gentry thinking along the same line? "Such as?"

  "Maybe you're supposed to stay here and take care of animals. And her."

  Not ready to discuss that, he looked askance at the notion. Anyone romancing her would need a hard hat and Kevlar vest. Their shared embrace, though fresh, had been a reaction to the hurt of Andy's insult. Not from mutual attraction. "You've had a closed head injury, right?"

  "Just speculating." Gentry stared out the window. Honeysuckle and multiflora roses cascading over fences exhaled their sweet breath upon them. "Part of her problem is pride. Part of it is she's not used to anyone being there but her dad. Grief has some odd twists and turns. Having a man around could make her feel like she's being unfaithful to him."

  "Maybe." Will geared down as they entered the town square. After seeing what he was looking for, he pulled into an empty parking place in front of The Wounded Bean. "Will you be able to get home?"

  "Angie will pick me up. Or I'll jog back."

  "How did you get out to where I picked you up?"

  "Angie dropped me off."

  Will frowned. "I don't understand."

  "It's my way of getting to share my faith. Couple Sunday afternoons a month, she drops me off somewhere in the county. I wait for my divine appointment to show up. Then we talk. Worse case scenario, I get exercise." Gentry faced Will when he turned off the ignition. "Did you stop here for lunch? They're not open."

  "No." Will took a deep breath, calling the words to active duty before they could go AWOL. Though he knew God's plans for him were for good, his concern centered on how much obedience would cost. He pointed at the office adjacent to the restaurant. Kincaid's car was parked in front. "I'm thinking about signing the papers."