"Hello, Waynesboro Animal Hospital, this is Dawn."
Allan straightened up and cradled the phone against his neck. "Hey Dawn, this is Doc."
"I thought that was a familiar groan,” she replied. "Your back bothering you this morning?"
"Maybe a little,” he lied. In truth it was hurting like hell. He closed the front door and started to the bathroom for his bottle of aspirin and muscle relaxants. "I'm calling to let you know that I'll be in a little late. How about checking the appointment book...."
"Don't worry, Doc. It's already taken care of. You're clear until 9:30 when Ms. Talmon is bringing in her poodle for shots and to check her ears. We can take her in as a drop-off if you like."
"You're a gem, Dawn. Now I know why I keep you around. Keep Ms. Talmon down for her appointment. I'll be in before then." Allan began to tell Dawn about the two live pups but stopped, deciding to wait until he saw whether they were going to make it or not. Somehow, he didn't think Dawn would be too keen on him keeping them alive.
"How's Molly?" He asked instead.
"She's doing wonderfully. She's up and around, and she ate all of her breakfast. Alice has already called to check on her. I told her she'd probably be going home later today."
"Great. I'll check her when I get in." He shook a couple of aspirin and a muscle relaxant into his hand and took them with the lukewarm coffee.
"Are you sure you should be coming in this morning?" Dawn asked. "You know how your back can flare up."
"Don't worry. I'm taking good care of it right now. I promise to hang in my torture chamber for at least fifteen minutes before I come in." Allan's "torture chamber" was a gravity boot system he used to help stretch his back. Hanging upside down like a bat did wonders for straightening his spine and relieving the pressure on the pinched nerves.
Allan walked into the kitchen, the phone still cradled against his head. He finished the call and set the phone and paper down on the table, his mind focused on a big batch of French toast. As the paper hit the table, it fell open to the front page. He glanced down at it and the headlines caught his attention.
Biogentrix Denies Charges
Says Genetic Engineering Projects Meet Federal Guidelines
They're at it again, he thought. Biogentrix was not the largest employee of Waynesboro, but they were the one most often in the headlines. The feud had raged ever since the company had moved into the area three years ago, bringing virtually their entire staff of 850 people from the outside rather than hiring locals as the Waynesboro founding fathers had suggested.
On top of that, Biogentrix was very hush-hush about projects they were working on, something else that made the rest of the community uncomfortable. A small town like Waynesboro loved to gossip but preferred to have a few facts to seed the stories. In recent years there had been a lot of talk about the genetic engineering projects, rumored to be a large part of Biogentrix's research. Most of the locals, both merchants and farmers, saw such experimentation as dabbling in work rightfully belonging to God.
Finally the townspeople had made such a fuss the federal agency responsible for monitoring such experiments decided to inspect Biogentrix's facilities. According to the paper the final verdict was still out, but Biogentrix was pleading not guilty to all charges.
Allan's thoughts flashed to the young forms resting quietly in his den. His mind toyed with the idea that there may be a connection. But no, surely not. How on earth could there be? But the nagging thought persisted like a kernel of popcorn lodged in the back of his throat.
Alice had said Molly had been a stray. Could she have escaped from Biogentrix’s facilities? It didn't seem likely. Most labs used much smaller dogs, like beagles, to cut down on the care and feeding costs. Of course that could vary, depending on the project. But what kind of project could they be up to that would result in eight-inch-long maggots?
Okay smarty, if not from Biogentrix, where did Molly's surprise package come from? He spent the rest of breakfast munching on French toast and pondering the question.
Marva the Mouth
Tuesday, June 15
A week later, Allan found the smaller of the two puppies curled up next to its littermate, cold and stiff, having died during the night. Again, he wasn't surprised. It hadn't done well for the past two days, and although it had continued to look more like a real puppy, its transformation remained far behind the larger one which was by now almost indistinguishable from the real thing.
The remaining pup's eyes opened on day ten, right on schedule, and started taking solid food at the end of the third week, which was a little ahead of schedule. Allan was thankful since he had been skipping out three or four times during the day, driving the seven minutes to his house, feeding the pup, and running back for the next appointment. Such action didn't go unnoticed by the staff, particularly his full time technician, Marva Chamblis. He overheard a typical conversation she had with Dawn one afternoon as he slipped quietly into the clinic through the back door.
"Come on, Dawn, play the game with me. What do you think Dr. Pritchard is doing when he runs home every day? Do you think he's got a mistress stashed away? Maybe he met her down at Quincy's."
"Marva, I don't want to play your silly game. It's none of my business what Dr. Pritchard is doing and neither is it yours,” Dawn answered with an icy tone that sent goose bumps down most people's backs and usually shut up all further gossip from them -- but when it came to gossiping, Marva wasn't most people. She was an award winner and she saw Dawn's cold response as a challenge to her title, so she continued the game.
"Maybe it isn't any of our business, but aren't you the least bit curious? I mean, suddenly in the last couple of weeks, every time we turn around we see his backside going out the door. You have to admit that's pretty strange for someone we normally can't drag out of the clinic during regular hours."
"Marva, you ask more questions than any black person I've ever known,” Dawn replied. Allan knew when she referred to Marva's skin color the shit was about to hit the fan. Dawn's southern Baptist upbringing in the mountains of North Carolina had left her with a thin yet deep streak of racial prejudice, one that usually remained well hidden but was about to surface.
"I'm going to say this one more time and that's it. Dr. Pritchard is your boss. He was nice enough to take a chance with you when no other veterinarian in this area would. I need not remind you that you'd been fired from three other places for gossiping when Dr. Pritchard took a chance. If you don't want to find yourself back out on the street living on food stamps, I suggest you find a way to curb your tongue even if it means cutting it out.” She added that last bit with a biting emphasis. “Do I make myself clear?"
Allan smiled despite himself. Dawn rarely got angry but when she did, Lord protect anyone in her path. He found himself feeling a little sorry for Marva.
"Yes ma’am, I understand." Marva’s meek reply was almost too soft to hear. "You know how much I need this job, Dawn. You wouldn't tell Dr. Pritchard on me, would you?"
"Marva sweetie, I love you to death, I really do. But unrestrained curiosity will be your downfall." Dawn's mothering instinct had already replaced her anger. "Now, I suggest you keep your nose squarely in the center of that pretty face of yours and out of other people's business. You'll make everyone a lot happier."
Allan reopened the back door and closed it again, harder this time. He coughed a couple of times to be sure they heard him as he walked into the clinic. The conversation came to a sudden stop and by the time he walked into the reception area, Marva was busily dusting the dog food display and Dawn was filing records, something he suspected she had been doing while talking with Marva. He thought he smelled the stale odor of tobacco smoke and wondered where Marva had stashed the forbidden cigarette but decided not to press the issue.
Allan stopped next to the counter, fully intending to tell both of them about his little houseguest, but as he gazed at Marva busily dusting the same row of cans for the third time, he knew that t
elling her would be like placing a full page ad in the Waynesboro Chronicle. No matter what he said about keeping it a secret or what he threatened, Marva would not be able to be quiet about it. It wouldn't be that she wouldn't try to keep quiet. He knew Marva really liked working for him and wouldn't do anything to hurt him or intentionally breach his trust. But asking a chronic gossiper to keep a secret was like expecting a dog to freely share his food with a strange dog. It was simply against the laws of nature. Allan decided he'd tell Dawn about it later when she was alone and elicit her assistance in coming up with a harmless white lie to placate Marva.
Monday, July 12
The puppy was five weeks old when Allan began to notice further alterations in its appearance. The changes, subtle at first, became more noticeable as the weeks passed. The nose, which had grown into a short muzzle, began to shorten again; the earflaps became smaller and slid down the sides of the head. The tiny toes on the front feet elongated and looked more like fingers. It was the hands that gave it away. The small vestigial dewclaw which normally remains the smallest digit grew like the rest of them and by week eight had taken its place next to the other four fingers. The pup was growing an opposable thumb.
During this time Allan kept the puppy a secret. Each day he'd go into the clinic fully expecting to tell Dawn about the miracle of life that was evolving at his home, but each evening he'd leave the clinic making a new agreement with himself to tell her the next day. By the tenth week, Allan gave up the game. It was at the same time he bought a used bassinet from the Goodwill Store and moved his ‘baby’ from the den into Todd's room.
As he placed the small bundle onto the soft cushion of the bassinet, Allan felt a warm familiar glow in the pit of his stomach. It had been years since he'd felt it, not since the last time he had tucked Todd into bed and read him a chapter of Aesop's Fables. He continued to stare into the rich brown eyes that had locked onto his own. It was as though they were playing a game to see who could stare at the other the longest. Allan lost.
He strolled into the den and took Todd's baby picture off the wall where it had been hanging over the cardboard box next to the wood stove. He took it and another picture of Todd at two years of age from the coffee table and returned to the bedroom. He removed the hand-stitched embroidery pictures, one of a puppy and the other of a kitten that his mother had stitched for her only grandson, from the wall over the bassinet and replaced them with the pictures of Todd. And then he waited --waited for the miracle of life, of a life he didn't understand to unfold.
Nanny Kendra
Monday, August 2
By the eighth week, Allan had started showing videos he’d taken of the real Todd whenever he was home, several of which also had Todd talking and singing. It seemed to work as the likeness to his son grew noticeably. At the same time, Allan realized he needed help. Todd had kept him up several nights with his crying. Added to that, Allan had two late emergencies that pulled him back to the clinic after eleven. He felt more and more uncomfortable about leaving Todd at home alone. What if he climbed out of the bassinet? He could break his neck. Allan solved part of the problem with another trip to Goodwill, returning with a baby crib and playpen. Allan shopped at Goodwill for these articles, not to save money but because it was on the far side of town in an area seldom visited by his clients, and so his purchases remained a secret; not an easy feat for a town the size of Waynesboro.
But he knew he had to tell someone. He needed help and didn't know where to get it. Dawn seemed the natural choice. He even toyed with telling her the truth. Surely if anyone would understand, she would. Even so, when he really considered it, he couldn't imagine anyone really understanding what he was doing. He didn’t understand himself. He was raising a little boy that looked just like his son but had come from a stray dog's belly. When he stopped and thought about it, he doubted his own sanity. He couldn't expect anyone else to believe the story.
Allan decided his only choice was to lie to Dawn for the first time since he'd known her, almost seven years. He called her into his office to avoid Marva's elephant ears for gossip. Dawn closed the door on his instructions and sat on the edge of the chair across from his desk. He noticed she wrung her hands as she sat there trying to look calm and wondered what she must think, being called so unexpectedly into his office.
"Relax, Dawn. This isn't about you or your work, which by the way is outstanding. It's personal, very personal, and I'm asking you to treat it with the utmost confidence. Do you understand?"
"Oh sure, Dr. Pritchard,” she answered as she visibly relaxed. "I was just certain that I had done something wrong."
"You've done nothing wrong except to continue to call me 'Dr. Pritchard' when we're in private. Do you think you'll ever be able to call me Allan?"
Dawn smiled. "I've tried Doc. I've tried, but it always comes out the same. I'm afraid I'm a creature of habit, and it's an old habit that just won't die."
“Okay, I guess I can accept it." Allan hesitated, unsure how to begin the well-rehearsed lie. "This is a matter which is rather difficult to discuss, Dawn. I'm sure you've been wondering why I've been running home so much the last several weeks."
"Well, the thought did cross my mind, as well as some other minds.” She nodded in the direction of the outer office where Marva sat manning the phones.
"Yes, I'm sure it's driving Marva crazy, poor girl. Unfortunately, it’ll have to be that way for now. I'm going to tell you what's going on, but under no circumstances is Marva or anyone else to know."
"I understand."
Allan took a deep breath. "I am temporarily keeping my three month old nephew while my brother and his wife work out some marital problems."
"Your brother from Maine?" Dawn asked, a look of surprise on her face.
"Yes, he drove down a few weeks ago on his way to Florida." He plodded along with the made-up story, feeling as though the words were stuck together with peanut butter. Dawn knew little about his brother, only that the two of them didn't see each other very often. The fact was they never saw each other. They hardly acknowledged the other one’s existence. For that reason Allan thought the story would hold. It was unlikely his brother would actually visit him.
“But I didn't think you ever saw your brother?” Dawn asked with a confused look on her face.
"Well, we don't, or didn’t,” Allan stammered. "The truth is ... " his eyes flitted to the blotter on the desk and back to Dawn. "... we've been getting along a little better lately, since his problems at home started. Warren doesn't have many friends, and I guess when your marriage is breaking up, you need to talk to someone. I'm the someone for Warren. It certainly shocked me."
"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Dawn continued to ask questions that forced Allan to dig himself deeper into the lie.
"Warren asked me not to say anything to anyone,” he replied, and was alarmed to find the lying becoming easier. "He thought it would only be for a week or two at first, but now it may be for months." He bit his tongue to keep from saying that Kitty, Warren's wife, had been caught fooling around with another man. Once the lying started, it was difficult to cut it off.
Dawn smiled. "So you're a father again. Well, I'll be. I shoulda guessed, the way you've been dancing around here. Why that's just wonderful." She was beaming now. "But you don't mean to tell me you've been keeping that little boy, you did say it was a boy . . . "
He nodded.
"... You've been keeping that little boy all alone at your house with no one to look after him during the day."
Without hesitation, Allan answered with another lie. "Warren was here for most of the time, but the other day he headed out for Florida. I don't know when he'll be back. He asked me to look after . . . " He suddenly realized he hadn't thought of another name for Todd. He sat there with his mouth open, panic gripping him by the throat. This isn't going to work, he thought. She sees right through this sham. She's just playing along to see how much rope I'll take before I hang myself.
Al
lan's eyes finally focused back on Dawn, and he saw the poster behind her with the words Upjohn Pharmaceuticals boldly printed across the front.
"... John." He finally finished the sentence. "But we call him TJ. It's a little difficult looking at the little bundle and thinking of him as John just now." Nice recovery, he thought, but he was aware how close a call it had been. What other questions did Dawn have to trip him up?
Before she had the chance to think up a new one, he grabbed the initiative. "Warren left suddenly, as is his nature, and I now realize that I need someone to help out while I'm here at the office. I thought you might know of someone who could handle this very discreetly. I don't want my name or Warren's becoming the popular gossip."
Dawn pondered the question for a moment, her brow knitted in thought. Then her face brightened with a smile.
"How about Kendra? She's out of school for the summer. She's planning to sit out a semester while she decides whether to go to college or not. To tell you the truth, I'd love to get her out of the house for a while. She's beginning to drive me crazy."
Kendra was Dawn's seventeen-year-old daughter. Allan had watched her grow from a scrawny adolescent into a young woman. There was no doubt in Allan's mind she was capable of looking after his new son. But could she keep a secret even from her mom? It was risky but it seemed to be his best bet.
"Do you think she'd do it?" Allan asked tentatively.
"Are you kidding? She'd fly to the moon for you. Besides, she loves to baby-sit, if the kid is fairly well behaved. How is TJ?"
"Oh, he's very easy to care for,” Allan answered. If you don't mind him changing shapes in front of your eyes, he thought. It raised an important question. If Todd, alias TJ, continued to change as quickly as he had been, how would he explain it to Kendra? His plan was developing holes in it -- large ones.
FreeForm: An Alien Invasion Romance Series (FreeForm Series Book 1) Page 7