“But I got the trauma room ready.”
“Does he look like he needs the trauma room to you, sweetheart?” To Maddie she said, “Go on with them, Mrs. Kinkaid. And I forgive you. We’d rather have a mangy stray covered in pizza sauce and dumpster stink than an injured animal any day. You go on back, and I’ll let the doc know you’re here.” Maddie and TJ followed Keshawn into the examining room. He left them alone for a brief time while he took Pirate to be weighed and scanned for an ID chip. “No chip,” Keshawn said when he returned with the dog. “He’s all yours.”
Pirate sniffed every inch of the floor, affording special consideration to the base of the examining table, and then dropped in a heap at Maddie’s feet. He sighed and settled his wolfish muzzle on his paws until the door opened, and then he drew to attention and cocked his head, ears and good eye turned toward the veterinarian.
“Another stray, Maddie?” Dr. Traci McManus greeted Maddie with a warm smile. “I’m surprised to see you with a dog. You’re going to ruin your reputation as a crazy cat lady.”
“Ha, ha.” Maddie stood and hugged her friend.
“How’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since you brought that calico in a couple months ago. And who is this handsome guy?” Traci didn’t indicate whether she referred to TJ or Pirate, but as Pirate left much to be desired in the looks department, Maddie took a stab that she meant the boy.
“This is TJ Walker. He was my guest for lunch today. We had pizza at Caravicci’s and TJ spotted this hairy guy in the alley. A man from the real estate office next door said the dog has been hanging around, being a nuisance, and avoiding animal control like a pro.”
“He’s mean. The man, not Pirate. Pirate’s nice.” TJ scooted off the chair and knelt next to Pirate, who rewarded the compliment with a slobbery lick across TJ’s cheek.
“It’s nice to meet you, TJ.” Traci knelt on the floor beside him. “Let’s take a look at your furry friend here.”
Traci focused her attention on the dog. Her practiced hands moved over the animal’s scrawny frame, firm but gentle, probing organs and examining musculoskeletal architecture. Pirate’s tail curled downward, and when Traci lifted it to check his back end, Maddie swore he dropped his head in embarrassment. His expression didn’t improve when Traci checked his ears, his eyes, his teeth.
“Best guess, he’s about four years old. The missing leg appears to be congenital rather than the result of an amputation. He doesn’t know he’s only got three legs. He was born this way and doesn’t know anything different. Have you seen him run?” At Maddie’s negative head shake, Traci said, “You’ll be surprised when you do. My guess is he’s just as fast and fluid as his four-legged counterparts. He’s got quite a few scars and some bald spots, but it doesn’t look like mange. I’ll take some skin scrapings to be sure, but it looks to me like he just scratched himself up. He’s terribly malnourished, but a few weeks with you will fix that. Especially if you keep feeding him pizza, which I don’t recommend.”
“Oh, I’m not keeping him.”
Traci sat back on her heels and regarded Maddie with a raised brow. “Uh-huh.”
“I’m going to find him a good home.”
“I think he’s already found one.”
“I have cats.”
“Yes, you do. And now you also have a dog. Keshawn told you Pirate’s not chipped, right? He’s been neutered, though, so he belonged to someone at some point. He’s got severe conjunctivitis. That’s why his eye is goopy and swollen. I’ll take him into the back and clip that some, clean it up. I’ll also give him an antibiotic shot and send some ointment home with you, as well as some oral antibiotics. You’re going to want to give him a bath with flea dip, and then a flea prevention treatment.” Traci scratched behind Pirate’s ears and he wagged his tail, the indignity of the exam apparently forgiven.
“I tested him for parasites when Keshawn brought him back to be weighed, and he’s clear of everything except fleas and worms. I’ll give him a de-wormer treatment which should take care of the intestinal parasite problem, and you’ll need to give him heartworm prevention medicine every month, or you can go with the six month shot.” Traci tucked her hands into the deep pockets of her lab coat. “He’s a sweetheart, your Pirate. Lucky boy, to be going home with you.”
“I told you, he’s not going to be a permanent resident.”
Traci countered with a beautiful flash of white against her mocha skin. “If you say so.”
“I’m serious, Traci.”
“Girl, you always are.” Traci paused with her hand on the door, a thoughtful expression drawing her brows together. “You know, our groomer can probably squeeze in your hairy kid for a flea dip and grooming. Why don’t you let me take care of that for you? My treat. An afternoon at the spa for Pirate. That will give you time to pick up the things you’ll need to take him home.” She held up a hand before Maddie could protest. “Temporary. I know. But even if he is only a transitory guest he still needs a collar for his dog tags and a leash. I’ll even give you a bag of food to get you through a couple of weeks until you find him a permanent home. The good stuff, to help him gain some weight.”
“Thank you, that’d be great. TJ has a tee-ball game this afternoon which I’m guessing will be over around four or so. Will that work, as long as we’re back here before five?”
“Perfect.” Traci shook TJ’s hand. “Take good care of Pirate. And good luck at your game.”
“Do we hafta leave Pirate?” TJ asked as he and Maddie walked to the car.
“Dr. McManus is going to give him some medicine, and he’s getting a bath.”
TJ screwed up his face. “I don’t think Pirate likes baths. I don’t either, but Dad says we’re the smelly Walker men so we hafta. But when I get big I don’t hafta if I don’t wanna.”
Maddie bit her lip to stifle a laugh. Her humor was short lived. She opened the car door and the odor, eau de Pirate, rocked her back a few paces. The dog’s dumpster stink had fermented in the closed vehicle, exacerbated by the humidity and summer heat.
In spite of the sweltering temperature, Maddie rode to the ball park with the air conditioner off and all four windows down. She missed the repeated vibrating of her cell phone, muffled in her purse and further camouflaged by the noises of summer traffic and TJ’s dubious rendition of “Who Let the Dogs Out?”
When they reached the ballpark TJ sat tall in his seat and directed Maddie. He knew which lot to turn into and pointed out the row of spaces where his family always parked.
“Grampa Boone likes to drive his own self,” TJ said when Maddie handed him his sports bag. “He says he likes to come early so he can get the shady spot, but Dad says he really comes early so he can, uh…” He frowned and looked up at the sky as if the word he wanted might appear in the clouds. A moment later he brightened and smiled at Maddie. “Scope out the soccer moms. That’s it.”
“What does Grampa Boone say to that?” Maddie asked.
“That if Dad knew what was good for him he’d come early, too.”
Maddie laughed. “Your Grampa Boone sounds like a character.”
“That’s what everybody says.”
“So which field do you play tee-ball on?”
“That one.” TJ pointed and marched off with Maddie beside him.
Maddie waited for TJ to disappear into the dugout before she chose a spot on the bleachers. She poked around in her purse, found her prescription sunglasses, donned them, and dropped her daily-wear glasses into the abyss of her handbag. While Maddie watched the players arrive with their families and friends, she enjoyed the alternating sensations of the cool mountain breeze and the heat of the sun. She recognized a couple of children from her previous kindergarten class and her wave brought them tromping up the bleachers for hugs and a few minutes of animated chatter. She smiled when she saw Chloe, the waitress from Caravicci’s, pleased and surprised when the young woman waved and made her way over to join Maddie at the top of the bleachers.
“Hi. Okay if I sit?” Chloe asked, but didn’t wait for Maddie to respond. She dropped to the aluminum seat and propped her sandaled feet on the row in front of them. “You here with the green-eyed cutie pie?”
“TJ. Yes.”
“Actually, I was talking about the dad. He’s really hot.” Chloe fanned her face and grinned.
Maddie smiled and couldn’t argue. “Yeah, I guess he is. But no, I’m not here with him. He had a family emergency so I offered to take TJ for the day.”
“Oh, no. Do you mind if I ask what happened? My boss is a good friend of the family. He said he and—Caleb? Cal?—were college roommates.”
“Right. Dante. Caleb mentioned him.” Maddie paused, debating whether it was out of line for her to share the news of William Walker’s heart attack. She decided Caleb wouldn’t mind under the circumstances. She relayed what little she knew, and then the game began and the women focused their attention on the field.
Maddie cheered TJ and his team alongside Chloe, and became swept up in the joy of watching the pint-sized ballplayers swing, run, slide, and fumble their way through a four-inning game. Afterward, she watched with envy as the smiling parents paired up with tired but happy children and wondered how it would feel to be the mother of a sweaty five-year-old fresh off the field. If she had a son, he would be black-haired and blue-eyed like Jack, she thought, but then TJ trotted out from the dugout, dragging his sports bag behind him and beaming a smile he directed at her alone, and she allowed herself, for just that brief moment, to imagine something different.
“Didja see my home run, Miss Maddie?”
“I did see it. It was awesome!”
“I can’t wait to play real baseball with a pitcher. Dad pitches to me and I hit the ball. He says I have a great eye. So, can we go get Pirate now?”
“You bet. I hope he smells better.”
TJ wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know how he could smell worser, Miss Maddie. He was pretty smelly.”
“You’re right. He couldn’t smell worse.”
Maddie tossed the equipment bag into the passenger seat of the car and buckled TJ into his car seat. She settled into the driver’s seat, relieved that the smell inside the car had improved enough for her to close the windows and crank up the A/C. She thought of Cal, dug into her purse for her phone, saw the missed calls, listened to his messages, and regretted his obvious frustration. She dialed him back but an electronic voice told her the mailbox was full.
Unable to leave a message, she switched the ringer on her cell from silent to loud, dropped the phone back into her purse, and aimed the car toward the pet store.
***
Pacing before a floor-to-ceiling bank of windows outside the hospital visitor’s lounge, Cal tapped the redial button on his cell phone, muttering a mild oath when Maddie’s voice invited him to leave a message. As he’d already left multiple messages in the past hour, he clicked off the call and shoved his phone into the pocket of his jeans with a frustrated grunt.
“Problem?”
Rebecca stepped from the elevator, clutching a jumbo bag emblazoned with the words Bad Boys Burgers in one hand and a cardboard carrier full of Starbucks coffee in the other. The coffee reminded Cal of Maddie standing barefoot in cut-offs and tank top, long braid skimming her spine while she sipped her way to a caffeine rush, and the image eased his annoyance.
He relieved his sister of the Starbucks and indicated the food bag with a nod. “You got extra fries in there?”
“What do you take me for?” She raised a brow at him. “Of course, I got extra fries. And onion rings, which I’m sharing with Mom. You can’t have any.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll suck them down like a Hoover, that’s why.” They fell into step toward the visitor’s lounge. “So you never answered my question. Is there a problem? When I got off the elevator you looked pissed.”
“No, not really. I can’t reach Maddie Kinkaid, that’s all. Her phone’s ringing, but it’s going to voice mail. I never should have left TJ. It was nice of her to offer, but I don’t really know her that well. And what if something’s happened? What if—”
“Don’t be a moron. You said she’s a kindergarten teacher, which means she knows how to handle a kid. And Mom said she knows the in-laws, right? Works with the motherin-law doing volunteer work somewhere. They are probably at the ballpark, and she can’t hear her phone. Or—” She shot him a teasing sideways glance through the fall of her loose curls. “Maybe she’s just playing hard to get.”
“Real funny. I told you, she’s just a client.”
“Riiight. If she was just a client, you wouldn’t have even thought of leaving TJ with her, let alone have actually done it.”
Rebecca set the bag of food on a low table in front of the sofa where Sada and Grampa Boone sat looking like a pair of refugees awaiting deportation. Cal passed out the coffees and dropped into a chair while Rebecca sorted through the food. Sada shook her head at the proffered burger and onion rings, but Rebecca thrust them at her. “You have to eat, Mom.”
“I can’t.” Sada’s eyes welled. “Just put it back in the bag. I’ll nibble if I get hungry.” She dabbed at her eyes with a shredded tissue. “What’s taking so long? Why are they taking so long?”
“To torture us,” Grampa Boone said.
Cal exchanged an amused glance with Rebecca and mumbled his thanks when she handed him his greasy burger and fries.
“I’m sure they’ll tell us as soon as they know something.” Rebecca sat in the chair next to Cal and dug into her food. “So, Cal has a new girlfriend.”
“What?” Sada and Grampa Boone responded in unison.
“No.” Cal glared at Rebecca. “I do not.”
Rebecca used her fingers to make air quotes. “His client. You know…what’s her name?… Maddie Kinkaid, the woman watching TJ.”
Sada’s expression perked up. “The Kinkaids are the nicest people. I don’t know Ron very well, but Edie’s a peach. And I know they adore Jack’s widow—that would be your Maddie.”
“She’s not my Maddie,” Cal said. “She’s a client. A very nice client, who happens to know her way around kids and offered to watch TJ today. That’s it. “
“Methinks he doth protest too damn much,” Grampa Boone’s voice boomed. “No need to be embarrassed, boy. You found yourself a new woman!” A hearty thumbs up accompanied a broad wink.
Cal shot Rebecca another look and mouthed the words, What the hell?
Rebecca shrugged and murmured, “They need something to focus on besides Dad.”
“When do we get to meet her?” Sada asked, smiling for the first time all morning.
Cal threw up his hands and laughed. “Mom, she’s really just a client.”
“Leave the boy alone.” Grampa Boone shot Cal another exaggerated wink. “He’ll introduce us to his new lady when he’s ready. In the meantime, we need to eat. Becca’s right. Don’t know how this is going to go or when we’ll have another chance. C’mon now, honey.” He nudged Sada with his elbow. “Take a few bites. Big Will’s going to need us later and we can’t be doing for him if our stomachs are rumbling.”
Sada opened the greasy wrapper and poked at the burger. She picked off a slice of bacon and took a bite, chewing as if it were cardboard. Cal wasn’t surprised when she dropped what was left of the strip of meat back on the burger, wrapped up the whole and dropped it back into the bag. She folded her arms across her chest, shut her eyes, and leaned her head back, sending a clear message of Do Not Disturb.
Cal polished off his food and tossed the remains in a trash bin just outside the lounge. He wore a path in front of the wall of windows once more and tried phoning Maddie as he paced. He gnawed the inside of his mouth while the phone rang and groaned when her voice mail picked up. He left another message and ended the call, fishing the phone from his pocket when it blared out the Batman tune a moment later. He answered without looking at the caller ID.
“Hey. I’ve been trying to reach y
ou. Is everything going okay? How’s TJ?”
“Whoa, slow down, man. I think you’re confusing me with your babysitter.”
“Dante. Hey, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
“Yeah, I got that. Chloe called me a little while ago. She ran into your lady friend and TJ at tee-ball, thought I might want to know you were at the hospital with your dad. What’s going on?”
“She saw TJ and Maddie?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“Sorry. My brain’s not synapsing. Chloe. She’s the waitress with the niece on TJ’s team.”
“I guess so, yeah. So? How’s Big Will?”
“Heart attack, pretty mild, they said. I don’t know how any heart attack can be qualified as mild, but that’s what we were told. So, I guess that’s a good thing. He’s in surgery. They’re doing an angioplasty and stent placement to clear a blockage. We’re just waiting. Nothing else to do.”
“Listen, if you need anything, errands, phone calls, taking care of the little dude, give me a call. I’ll do whatever, okay?”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll tag you later.”
Cal pressed his palms on the center window, rested his weight against the pane, and enjoyed the warmth leaching into him from the outdoor heat that permeated the tinted glass. He wondered, not for the first time in his life, why the air in hospitals bordered on frigid. Keeping bacteria tamped down, he supposed, but damn, it made for an uncomfortable wait.
He pushed off the plated window and rolled his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles. He’d had his fill of hospitals when Gwen became ill. It flooded back to him now, the endless doctor visits, tests and more tests, the surgeries and procedures, hours of chemo, radiation, and the aftermath—the nausea and vomiting, the weight loss, the hair loss, the decrease in strength as the poisons administered to save her piggybacked the disease that sapped her life and stamina until she was a shell of herself.
Her light never left her, though. The inside glow that made her his Gwen never abated. Nothing could rob her of that. She held on to her light until the moment she closed her eyes for the last time.
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