by Lyn Cote
As she drove away a bit faster than usual, she glanced into Aunt Ginny’s window. The light from the TV set flickered. A true Godsend, Ginny usually read to the girls at bedtime, but the fundraiser potluck must have tired her out. Jeannie reached the county road and sped up. If she didn’t, she’d be late for sure. Jake’s face bobbed up in her mind. She sighed and pushed it away. Doing this would have been easier—if he hadn’t been such a nice guy.
Jake rolled over in his bed. He had wrapped his pillow around his head, but Bummer’s mournful yodeling penetrated the feathered down. Jake sat up and slammed his pillow to the floor. A glance at the bedside clock told him that this had gone on almost two hours. Not even Jake’s lack of sleep dulled the uproar. Earlier he’d looked Bummer over to see if something physical was bothering him. No dice.
“I can’t take it anymore.” He got up and pulled his clothing over his pajamas and headed down the steps to Bummer, who had refused to move from the vicinity of the back door.
As Jake passed through the kitchen, the wall phone rang. He picked up.
“What is wrong with that dog?” Mike barked. “I can hear him the quarter mile over to my place.”
“Sorry. I’ll take care of it.”
“Do that.” Mike slammed the receiver in Jake’s ear.
Jake shoved his hair back from his face, trying to think of what he could do, what he should do. Jeannie Broussard’s face came to mind. Did he have a choice?
Driving down the darkened highway, Jake questioned his plan. But he didn’t know what else to do. Jeannie Broussard had impressed him as a woman who knew kids as well as he knew animals. Maybe they could figure out why this had happened and how to handle it.
In the basket behind him, Bummer still bayed mournfully. Jake could feel a scowl controlling his face. I can’t believe I’m doing this. This midnight ride only showed how desperate a tired man could get.
He saw the lighted sign ahead for the nursing home where Jeannie said she worked. He lurched to a stop at the back entrance, where he figured he could get to Jeannie easier. He pressed the button by the door and braced himself against the icy wind. Shivering, he waited with Bummer under his arm. The door opened and he charged inside out of the blistering cold.
Jeannie gawked at him. “Dr. McClure, what are you doing here?”
Before Jake could reply, Bummer stopped moaning and woofed at Jeannie, struggling to get down. Jake released the hound. Bummer frisked around her feet, woofing softly with joy—as if he sensed he needed to be quiet in this place. Jeannie stooped to pet him.
Jake stooped beside her, bracing his elbows on his knees. The constant baying had shaved his patience down to a fine, taut line. Jake buried his face in his hands. The emergency call to a large dairy farm last night and Bummer’s antics tonight meant he’d hardly had any sleep for two nights now. I can’t believe I’m here. How can I expect this woman to just know what to do? But he hoped his hunch would pay off.
“Why are you here?” Jeannie asked in a low voice. She glanced behind her as if she expected someone to come and shoo him outside.
“I know I shouldn’t have come. And brought a dog here to boot.”
“That’s all right. We have two dogs who live here as pets for the patients. Bummer is allowed.”
At her kind words, he raised his head and gazed at her. She’d pulled her beautiful hair back into a ponytail, giving her a severe look that didn’t suit her.
“I’m glad to hear that this nursing home recognizes the healing power of interaction with animals.”
Jeannie nodded and looked at him expectantly as if repeating, Why are you here?
He hoped he didn’t sound ridiculous. “Since I drove away from your house,” he said in careful, measured tones at odds with his inner uproar, “Bummer has bayed, moaned and howled. One of my neighbors a quarter mile away even complained.”
Jeannie gasped. “I’m so sorry. How can I help?”
Riddled by fatigue, he leaned his face into his hands again. His reserve around young women began reasserting itself. He didn’t know what more to say. Silence reigned.
Jeannie cleared her throat. “Why don’t you come to the employee lounge for a cup of decaf coffee?” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I can take a brief break now.”
Jake straightened up. “You don’t have to—”
“My pleasure. Please.” She led him down the hall and into a brightly lit room. Her face revealed a kind of bewildered concern. She gestured him to the saggy plaid sofa while she went to the snack area.
Again he regretted having to bother this woman. Yet, too tired to argue or just leave, Jake obeyed and sank onto the sofa. Bummer watched Jeannie pour two mugs of coffee and bring one to Jake. When she sat down in a chair across from Jake, Bummer flopped on the floor with a satisfied sigh. At this, Jeannie looked…flummoxed, a word he hadn’t ever used that he could recall.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Jeannie said, cupping her white and green Hope Nursing mug between her hands. “But are you sure this is about me and the girls? I noticed that Bummer was very protective of the kittens.”
Even in the glare of the fluorescent lighting, the young woman across from him looked somehow ethereal. Wearing a faded blue scrubs uniform, she didn’t fit this run-down setting. Why did employee lounges always have to look like thrift stores?
Bringing his mind back to the problem, Jake stirred his coffee and then gestured toward the dog on the floor beside her. “I’ve had Bummer since he was a pup when I had just finished vet school.” Jake couldn’t stop the rush of words—something that was out of character for him. “He’s been my shadow for almost ten years. He’s never done anything like this before.”
After glancing down at Bummer, Jeannie asked, “Do you mean his coming home with my girls? I scolded them about helping him into the van. I’ve warned them if they do anything like that again, they’ll lose TV privileges for a weekend.”
He stirred his coffee, watching the swirls of cream blend in, nearly hypnotized. “I tried ignoring his baying.” He glanced at his watch. “He kept it up for nearly two hours till he saw you here.” He shrugged, not even knowing clearly what he wanted to ask her.
Jeannie sipped from her cup, her pale pink lips catching his attention. “You think he prefers to be with my girls and the kittens? But how can that be? Except for tonight my girls never had contact with him before.”
“Dogs have personalities just like people.” He blew across the top of his steaming cup of coffee. Talking about animals—now he could do that. “Some relate to their early experiences with people and other animals. Some just follow the instincts of their breed. Basset hounds can be very determined and independent.”
“So if he’s taken a notion to prefer my girls or protect the kittens, he’ll just be stubborn about it?” Her sincere brown eyes gazed into his.
“Exactly.” He tried not to be rude and just stare at her. “It’s been said that basset hounds can be taught anything, as long as they want to learn that particular anything.” A grin slid sideways onto his face—for her, not the situation.
The young single mom gazed around the lounge. “I can’t stay much longer. I don’t want to lose this job. After I was downsized from receptionist at the hospital emergency room last fall, it took me a while to find another position.”
“I’m sorry. Here you are at work and I’m bothering you with my problems.” He rose.
She put out a hand. “Wait. You look really tired.” She touched his sleeve for only a moment. Her fleeting touch sent sparks zipping up his arm.
“Understatement,” he admitted simply. Why deny it?
“We really haven’t solved your problem.”
He took a step back. Of course they hadn’t. I shouldn’t have bothered her. “I’ll just have to work through it.”
His cell phone sounded loud in the quiet place. He excused himself to take the call, returning a few moments later. “I have to go. Another emergency at a different dairy farm.”
Jake bent to pick up Bummer.
The basset hound dashed away and ducked behind the sofa. Jake had never seen him move so fast. Heat enveloped Jake’s face. I don’t have time for this.
“On the way to your emergency,” Jeannie said, as if feeling for each word, “maybe you should stop and leave Bummer with the girls at my next-door neighbor’s. Ginny loves animals.”
“I shouldn’t give in to him like this—”
“You look dead on your feet, and now you have another call. You can’t take him with you, baying like that. I’ll call her.” She pulled out her cell phone and hit speed dial.
“No, I shouldn’t—”
She held up a hand and said into the phone, “Ginny, there’s sort of an emergency tonight.”
Jake listened as she explained the situation to the neighbor. Embarrassment and the urgency of the emergency call ASAP needled him.
She shut the phone. “Ginny says to bring Bummer over. She said she knows you.”
“Ginny?” He tried to bring up a face and then shrugged. “I usually remember the animals more than their owners,” he admitted. “Oh, wait—is that Ginny Flatlander?”
“Yes, the one famous for her baked mac and cheese.” Jeannie chuckled. “The girls call her Aunt Ginny and she owns the white and brown trailer next to mine. She’s waiting for you.”
Another unbidden grin slid onto his face. “Thanks.”
She smiled in return and pushed him toward the door. “Go.”
He wanted to stay. But couldn’t.
Seven o’clock in the morning finally came. Jeannie punched out and drove home, her battery reluctant but still alive. Through the bright sun glinting on the fresh snow she walked to Aunt Ginny’s. She said goodbye to the girls, who were on their way to catch the school bus, and went inside to get the kittens. Bummer greeted her from the floor by the heat register. The two kittens were crawling over him, playing, pulling at his long ears. “Dr. McClure hasn’t come yet?”
“No. But Bummer has been good, and he’s been taking care of those kittens.” Ginny beamed at the dog and kittens. “It’s unusual to see a male so interested in little ones. But I have heard of stranger things.”
“Do you think Dr. McClure’s emergency call lasted into the morning?” Jeannie swallowed a yawn.
“Maybe. Or he overslept?”
Dr. McClure hadn’t seemed irresponsible—much the opposite. She hoped nothing bad had happened to him or his patients. Though Jeannie ached with fatigue, she had no choice. She turned to Aunt Ginny. “Thanks. I’ll take the menagerie home with me. If Dr. McClure comes, tell him I’ve got Bummer, okay?”
“Well,” Aunt Ginny teased in a knowing tone, “this is a new one on me. Stealing a man’s dog to get his attention—”
“Aunt Ginny,” Jeannie scolded, blushing and wondering why. “Don’t go there.” She suffered the woman’s laughter as she walked outside, carrying the box of kittens. Bummer trotted at her side.
At home, Jeannie waited while Bummer did his business beside a tree. Then inside, she warmed food for the kittens and gave Bummer a cold hot dog for lack of anything else. She staggered to her bedroom, stepped out of her shoes and collapsed onto the bed. With the kittens trailing him, Bummer waddled in after her and lay down on the rug beside her bed. Jeannie fell asleep, gazing into the hound’s deep brown mournful eyes. And thinking of another pair of kind eyes.
Jeannie swam up from sleep to the sound of insistent knocking. She padded in her stocking feet to the front door. Dr. McClure stood outside. “Ginny said I just missed you.”
Jeannie swallowed a yawn. “Come in. Would you like some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’ve been out all night and I’m dirty from working in a cattle barn. I’ll just take Bummer. I’ve got to get to my clinic.”
Closing the door, Jeannie turned and went to get Bummer. She’d left him lying on the rug. She went from room to room. No dog. On a hunch, she went back to her room and got down on her knees. Bummer had crawled under her bed and all the way back to the far corner. The kittens hovered beside him.
Exhausted, she wanted to lie down and cry. “Bummer, you fit your name. Shame on you.” On her stomach, she crawled under the bed.
Bummer growled at her.
She crawled back out. To the door. She opened it. “You’ll have to get him. He’s under my bed.” She sank onto a kitchen chair, too tired to stand.
The vet stalked down the hall. Soon the sound of Bummer growling and Dr. McClure grunting came to her. The vet finally appeared with the large struggling dog in his arms. “Thank you.”
The vet hustled out, letting the door slam behind him. Jeannie didn’t take it personally. If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have felt sorry for him. At least the dog wouldn’t be here when the girls got off the school bus at three. She lay down on the couch and fell sound asleep, again thinking of a pair of blue eyes.
Aching for sleep, Jake drove to his clinic to do his small-animal office hours. Bummer bayed on and on as if he were being tortured. If Jake’s morning hadn’t already been packed with appointments, he would have gone home and slept. He parked behind his clinic and then opened the door, urging Bummer to get down.
Bummer refused.
Jake picked him up and carried him inside the rear staff entrance. He stomped with each step, trying to release some of his irritation and wake himself up. Bummer yodeled his displeasure. This made all the animals in the kennel in the rear of the clinic bark, yip and woof in sympathy. They didn’t want to be there either!
Jake carried Bummer to his office, hung up his coat and shut the door on the still-baying hound. He hurried forward to the reception counter. His office manager, a very pregnant Kelsey Witt, looked up at him quizzically.
“Don’t ask,” he said under his breath. His first two appointments were waiting for him. He asked the woman with the puppy in need of a booster shot to come back with him. In the background behind their voices, Bummer’s trumpeting bass could be heard. The sound brought thoughts of Jeannie. He hoped she would get some sleep. He hated that Bummer was causing her trouble, too. She obviously didn’t need any more burdens. Then Jake tried to ignore Bummer’s baying and concentrate on the patient. He tried to look on the sunny side. At least Bummer’s ruckus would keep him awake.
Jake looked into the puppy owner’s eyes and saw there the obvious question: What’s with the dog? He didn’t try to answer it. As he continued the examination against the background of Bummer’s baying, he thought about all the animals crowded into the animal shelter who wanted a home. Bummer didn’t know how good he had it.
An hour later, Kelsey closed the door to the treatment room where Jake had just finished treating a cat with ear mites. She glared at him. “If Bummer stays, I’m taking the rest of the day off.” She folded her arms and rested them on her bountiful abdomen, showing just how near the end of her last trimester loomed.
Jake didn’t blame her for being irritated. He was more than irritated. “I’ll go now, take him home, and leave him with the outside dogs.”
“Good, that should only take a few minutes and save you hiring a new office manager earlier than expected.” She reached for the doorknob. “I’ll explain to the next appointment that you’ve been delayed briefly by an emergency.”
Jake watched her go. He was tired. He was hungry. He wanted Bummer to shut up. He marched to the rear and collected his dog.
He drove home, carrying Bummer over the snow to the large dog run beside his garage. He opened the gate and set Bummer inside. The other outside dogs greeted him with friendly overtures.
Jake shook his finger at Bummer. “If you don’t stop this, you’re going to end up living out here.” Not a harsh threat. Jake’s outside dogs were the ones that ended up with him because no one else wanted them. Like the dalmatian who’d lost a leg in an accident. Besides the large run, the dogs had a heated dog house. And when he was home, Jake let them run in his fenced wooded pasture.
Bummer grimaced at him, turned h
is back and bayed loud and long. Hoping a day of barking outside without a human audience would scotch this mutiny, Jake hurried to his truck and headed back to the clinic. Get over it, Bummer. Fast. I mean it.
Chapter Three
Saturday morning at 7:47, Jake groaned silently when he saw the parking lot outside his clinic. Surrounded by mounds of plowed snow, cars were packed tight together. He wouldn’t be closing up early this Saturday. He parked by the rear entrance, got out and motioned Bummer to get down. The dog gave him a look of pining misery and obeyed dejectedly.
Since ending his baying fest, Bummer gave his owner the silent treatment, interlaced with recriminating stares. Jake wondered how long this phase would last. How long would it take for Bummer to forget the kittens and little girls he’d latched on to as his responsibility?
Jake’s cell phone rang. He glimpsed the caller’s number; his low mood dropped to the soles of his feet.
To get out of the piercing cold, he hurried through the rear door to the clinic. “Hello, Dad.”
“Jacob, I’m flying in Wednesday afternoon. Can you pick me up?” His father spoke as usual in clipped sentences and without any preliminary conversation.
“What time?” Jake watched Bummer pad listlessly down the hallway past the office door, toward Kelsey’s station at the front.
“Around four o’clock. My flight number is 5672 from Chicago on United. Check on it before you start out in case of delay.”
“Will do.” Jake sank figuratively under this new weight that had just been dropped on him. What next?
“Thanks. See you then.” His father hung up. One would have thought their conversation cost him per word like an old-fashioned telegram. Jake scrubbed his face with his hands, trying to figure out how he felt through the haze from an over-busy week. He came up with just “not good.”
Hand on her hip, Kelsey appeared at the front end of the hallway outside the treatment rooms. “I was wondering if you were going to show up or leave me with all these people and pets.”