My Sunshine

by Catherine Anderson

  “Laura?” Isaiah gave her a sharp look. “I know this isn’t part of your job description, but you’re all I’ve got.”

  Laura just shook her head. Surely he didn’t mean for her to assist him in surgery? No, no, no! She would make a horrible mistake. The dog would die because of her. She couldn’t do this.

  Isaiah drew the towel from the dog’s leg and loosened the makeshift tourniquet that someone had applied to slow the bleeding. “You have to help me, Laura. There’s no one else. Jennifer and Gloria are alone up front. They’re doing their best to get some more people in here, but everyone they’ve called so far is knocked flat with some kind of flu. Belinda called in sick. Trish’s husband phoned to say she’s been puking her guts up all night. We haven’t heard from Angela, but she’s late. Chances are she’s too sick to call in.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Tucker’s got three emergencies in his wing and only Susan to assist him. Normally Val fills in when we get shorthanded, but she’s not here either. That leaves only you to help me.”

  Still shaking her head, Laura managed to push out, “I—can’t. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

  “You have to.” His blue eyes locked with hers. “This dog’s life is on the line. There’s no time for his owners to take him somewhere else. He’ll bleed to death.”

  Laura clutched the surgical scrubs to her chest, wishing she were sick, too. How come everyone else had gotten the bug, and she felt fine? “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’ll talk you through it.” He inclined his head at the sink as he grabbed a shaver to prep the unconscious canine. “That dispenser above the faucet is surgical soap. There are sterile gloves in that blue box at the end of the counter.”

  After jerking off her soiled smock, Laura quickly donned the clean one and rushed to the sink. Pushing at her hair with numb fingers as she pulled on the cap, she glanced in the mirror to make sure all of her head was covered. Her eyes, huge and dazed, stared back at her from a chalk-white face.

  “Hurry,” Isaiah urged from behind her. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  Laura was trembling so violently she sent soap lather flying as she washed her hands and arms. Moments later she grew light-headed as she approached the table. Blood had pooled around the dog’s hindquarters.

  “Don’t pass out on me,” Isaiah warned softly. “Pretend it’s something on television. That’s what I used to do.”

  He seemed so calm, so unaffected by the gore, that Laura found it difficult to believe he’d ever felt as queasy as she did.

  As though he guessed her thoughts, he said, “The first time I observed an operation, I almost fainted. Happens to a lot of people. All you can do is find a way to separate yourself.”

  Laura nodded. Pretending it was something on television didn’t quite work. The coppery smell of blood coated her mouth, shivered over her tongue. Her gaze kept shifting to the stand beside him. A dozen different instruments lay on a white towel, the pieces of stainless steel glinting in the bright light. She didn’t know the names of the tools, which of them he might need. She’d watched enough medical shows to realize that a surgical assistant had to anticipate a doctor’s needs and respond to his orders without hesitation.

  Her legs felt as if they’d turned to water, but she forced herself to move closer. “I don’t know what to do,” she said again, her voice quavering and thin.

  “No worries. All I need is an extra pair of hands.” He nodded at the instruments. “Right now I need the scalpel.” When Laura hesitated, he described the implement and then winked at her when she grabbed the right one. “See there, sweetheart? Already a pro.”

  When he made a long incision in the animal’s leg, Laura gulped audibly. Little black spots danced in front of her eyes. She turned her gaze to the dog’s head. Its eyes were only partially closed, and its mouth hung open. It looked to her as if Isaiah had pulled the animal’s tongue out over its teeth. Her stomach tumbled and rolled. To hold down her gorge, she focused on the cotton blanket that now draped the canine’s body.

  “What kind of dog is it?” she asked, desperate for something, anything, to take her mind off what was happening.

  “He’s a mongrel just like me, part this and part that. Mostly shepherd of some kind, I think. ‘Mongrel’ isn’t a very flattering term. I prefer the term ‘mixed-breed’ myself.” He glanced at the monitor to check the dog’s vitals and adjusted the IV drip. “Do you know what capillary refill is?”

  Laura nodded. She knew the meaning of many terms that she could no longer say.

  “Every few minutes, pinch his tongue and press on his gums to check his refill for me. Try to use only one hand for that. Keep the other one sterile to pass me instruments. If you forget, change gloves.”

  Laura stared stupidly at the dog’s tongue. “His name is Humphrey,” Isaiah said, as if he sensed her reluctance. “When he wakes up, he’ll lick your hand to say hi. You do want him to wake up again, don’t you?”

  The question worked on her shocked system like a glass of ice water in the face. She gingerly pinched the dog’s lolling tongue and pressed a fingertip to his upper gum. Because she couldn’t say capillary to save her soul, she settled for, “His refill looks fine. The color comes back pretty fast.”

  “Good, good. His vitals are within normal range, but that can change in a blink when an animal has lost so much blood.”

  Laura’s heart caught. This was real, she thought dizzily. This dog’s life rested partly in her hands. Because it did, she reached deep for courage she hadn’t realized she possessed. A strange calm settled over her. She could do this. She would do this. She wanted Humphrey to wake up soon, wanted to feel the rasp of his tongue on her hand and see life in his now expressionless eyes.

  “Tell me about him,” she said shakily. “Is he a new patient?”

  Isaiah’s gaze flicked to hers and held for only an instant, but in that instant his eyes warmed on hers. “I’ve been seeing him for about a year, off and on.” He asked her to sop up some of the blood with a piece of gauze so he could see what he was doing. While they worked, he went on to say, “Just office visits—shots, deworming, that kind of thing. We haven’t had a lot of getting-acquainted time, but judging by the little I’ve seen, he’s a great dog, smart and very friendly.”

  Beneath the mask, Laura smiled slightly. “He has a friendly look. What are his people like?”

  He cast her another twinkling glance. “You have it turned around, don’t you? The people own him.”

  Laura disagreed. “I don’t think it’s about who owns who. It’s about love. Does he have nice people?”

  Isaiah nodded. “A man, woman, and a cute little girl with big brown eyes and pigtails. I’ll leave you to guess who Humphrey loves the most.”

  “The little girl,” Laura quickly replied. She could almost see the dog playing with the child, barking and running happily after a ball. She was suddenly very glad that Isaiah had asked her to assist him. If Humphrey lived, she would be able to say that she’d helped in some small way to save his life. “He looks like a dog that loves kids.”

  “Right on target. And as of this morning, he became quite the hero.” He winked at her, a habit she was coming to suspect he had cultivated because his hands were so often occupied and the lower part of his face was covered by a mask. “The little girl ran out in front of a car.”

  “Oh, no.” The last of Laura’s squeamishness vanished. “Is that how he got hurt?”

  Isaiah nodded. “The owner says Humphrey leaped into the street just in the nick of time and knocked the little girl out of the way. Unfortunately for Humphrey, the woman in the car says it happened so fast that there was no way she could stop. If it weren’t for Humphrey, she would have hit the child.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  Though Laura couldn’t see Isaiah’s mouth, the creases that suddenly fanned out at the corners of his eyes told her he was smiling. “You ever saved a hero’s life?”

  “No.�
�

  “First time for everything. Humphrey deserves a medal.” He parted the animal’s flesh, revealing tendon, bone, and the damaged artery. Laura had one bad moment when she looked into the wound. Then she thought of Humphrey chasing a ball again, and the black spots in her vision went away. She grabbed fresh gauze to dab away the blood. Isaiah nodded in approval. “Do I remember your saying you couldn’t do this? I think I’ll keep you in here full-time.”

  Laura gave a weak laugh. “No way. I’m happy in the kennels.” Her smile faded when she looked back down at the dog. “Will he make it, do you think?”

  Isaiah reared back to avoid a spurt of blood. “Clamp!”

  Laura grabbed frantically for what looked like a clamp, handed it to him, and nearly collapsed with relief when he used the apparatus to stop the bleeding. “Oh, God.”

  “He’s right here,” Isaiah said huskily, “looking over our shoulders and guiding our hands.” He glanced up. “God, I mean. Some people would call me crazy for believing that.”

  Laura wasn’t one of them. In that moment, as she looked into Isaiah Coulter’s eyes, she understood what had led him to become a vet. Not a desire for money or a yearning for prestige. He was here, doing what he did, because he loved animals and felt a calling to help them.

  “With God on duty, maybe Humphrey has a chance,” she said tremulously.

  “No maybe to it. God cares about all of us, man and animal alike. Humphrey will make it.” He threw a look at a speaker in the ceiling above them. “Next time around, remind me to turn on some music. I work better to a beat.”

  Laura’s stomach squeezed. “Next time around?”

  “Got a pup with a chicken bone stuck in his intestines.” He winked at her again. “Unless Gloria can work a miracle and get some more people in here, I’m going to need you most of the day. Unless, of course, you have other commitments you can’t weasel out of.”

  Laura had intended to start decorating the waiting room when she got off at noon. A puppy with a bone in his bowel definitely took precedence. “No, nothing,” she said.

  “It’s a date, then, darlin’.”

  An awful thought occurred to Laura. “I won’t have to help with your horse patients, will I?”

  He burst out laughing. “No, we have specially trained techs out in the equine center for that. You’re safe.”

  Laura was relieved. Surgery on dogs and cats was one thing, but surgery on a horse would be something else entirely.

  For Laura, the morning passed in a surreal blur. She soon stopped thinking about the blood. There were far too many other things to occupy her mind—the names of different implements and surgical techniques, disinfectants, and medications. When she wasn’t standing at Isaiah’s side, assisting in a procedure, she was racing about sterilizing tables or gathering the necessary items to do surgery on another patient.

  Shortly after noon, right in the middle of an operation, this time on a Newfoundland with a stick caught in his throat, Laura noticed that Isaiah’s hands were quivering. Concerned, she studied what she could see of his face above the surgical mask. There was a pale cast to his dark complexion, and his skin shimmered with sweat.

  “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, but Laura wasn’t convinced. “Isaiah?”

  “I need to eat. Got the weak shakes.”

  “What did you have for breakfast?”

  “Nothing. I meant to go by McDonald’s on the way in, but then I got the call about Humphrey and never went.”

  The moment they had the Newfoundland safely deposited in an observation cage and covered with warm blankets, Laura stripped off her surgical scrubs and hurried to the refrigerator. Inside she found mostly soft drinks. The only food items were containers of fat-free yogurt and low-fat string cheese, not the most desirable fare for a large, hardworking man. She filled the crook of one arm and both hands with food and then motioned to her boss, who was already putting on a fresh lab coat to do surgery on a cat with a plugged urethra.

  “Food first,” she said firmly as she arranged the makeshift meal on a paper towel on the counter.

  “No time. That bladder is ready to pop.”

  Laura sent him a scolding look over her shoulder. “You have to eat. You can’t cut on a cat with shaky hands.”

  Isaiah was unaccustomed to being looked after by an employee. Normally on a busy day, it was every man or woman for himself. Nevertheless, he had to admit that it felt kind of nice. After joining her by the sink, he straddled a stool and grabbed a yogurt container.

  “Thanks, Laura.” He peeled the wrapper from a plastic spoon and practically inhaled the yogurt. Before he took the last bite, she had pulled the safety seal off another container and was pushing it toward him.

  “Take a few sips of pop, too,” she told him. “It’ll get your blood sugar up faster.”

  Isaiah took several swigs of Coke. As he set the can back on the counter, he realized how badly his hands were shaking. “Thanks,” he said again. “I’m feeling a little better already.”

  Her pretty hazel eyes were dark with concern. “You really should eat more often. No one can work this hard without food.”

  The simplicity of the statement wasn’t lost on Isaiah. Most people would have used the words nourishment and energy. Her avoidance of those terms drove home to him just how extraordinary her performance this morning had been. While working with her, he had forgotten for long stretches that she was handicapped.

  “Have I told you how much I appreciate your help this morning? I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”

  Her mouth curved up at the corners when she smiled, lending her full lips a kissable sweetness that was difficult to ignore. “Easy is for sissies.” Her eyes danced with devilment. “And, yes, you have thanked me.” Her gaze shifted to the cages at the far end of the room where Humphrey now lay awake. The dog was weak but could lift his head, which Isaiah took as a positive sign. “The truth is,” she went on, “I’m the one who should thank you. I got to help save lives today. That’s not something I thought I could do.”

  Isaiah understood her sense of wonder. The first few times in surgery, he had felt it himself. Over time he’d lost that, something he hadn’t realized until he worked with Laura and saw the awe in her eyes. “It’s an incredible rush, isn’t it?”

  She nodded and looked down at her hands. “Even now, I can’t believe I did it.”

  He couldn’t help but smile. “You not only did it, you did a great job.”

  Isaiah almost added that she would make a great technician with the proper training, but he caught himself before the words were out. Laura had done well under his direction, amazingly well, but that was as far as it could ever go. The realization saddened him.

  The blush of pleasure that stained her cheeks told him how much the compliment had meant to her, which saddened him even more. If not for the acci-dent, she would have had such a brilliant future.

  He tossed the empty yogurt containers into the trash. “You going to eat?” he asked as he peeled the plastic from a cheese stick.

  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Later. I don’t feel very hungry.”

  It occurred to Isaiah that she probably felt too queasy to eat. He remembered those days, too. “Sorry. I forget that other people don’t see this kind of stuff on a regular basis. After you’ve done it for a while, you get used to it.”

  “Hmm.” She gave him a dubious look. “Maybe.”

  By five o’clock, Isaiah’s back was killing him. They’d been standing for hours without a break. When the last surgery had been successfully completed, he sank wearily onto a stool, leaned his head back, and sighed.

  “What a day.”

  Laura was at the sink, washing her hands. “If we’re done, I need to go and make sure all the animals in the kennels have been taken care of.”

  Isaiah groaned. Jennifer had found a kennel person to fill in for Laura this morning, but the afternoon person had called in sick. That meant a good four
hours of work still had to be done. “I’ll help.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “And have you here until God knows when?”

  “I may have to work the night shift if all the kennel people are sick, too.”

  “Jennifer got in touch with Dan Fosworth. He says he feels fine, so he’s got tonight covered. Good thing. I may need you in here again tomorrow.”

  She paused in drying her hands. “You think?”

  “It’s possible. Depends on what kind of flu everyone has. Unless it’s the twenty-four-hour kind, chances are we’ll be shorthanded again.”

  “Who’ll work in the kennels tomorrow?”

  “Lena needs the hours. Gloria says she agreed to work the whole day.”

  Thirty minutes later they were cleaning the kennels together. Laura gathered the soiled bedding while Isaiah hosed and disinfected the floors. As had happened in the surgery, they soon found a compatible rhythm and managed to get a lot accomplished in record time. Isaiah no sooner got a cage cleaned than Laura was putting down fresh bedding. Then she brought the animal back in while he washed the dishes and refilled them with food and water.

  In a hurry to finish and go home, Isaiah almost snapped at Laura when he noticed that she was lingering in each cage to pet the dogs and talk softly to them. Hello? They’d already put in a twelve-hour day. At this rate they’d be here all night. But just as he opened his mouth to say something, he saw the look in one of the dog’s eyes: pure adoration.

  Isaiah smiled wearily and leaned a shoulder against the wire mesh of a kennel gate. This, he realized, was what made Laura so good at her job. She truly loved the animals, and they truly loved her. She spent only a minute with each dog before moving on to the next. All totaled she would waste no more than ten minutes, and it would be time well spent. Each and every dog in her care got its share of affection.