My Sunshine

by Catherine Anderson

  Stanley looked at Isaiah. “Would anyone here be interested in bottle-feeding a litter of pups? You’re right about Phoebe’s being a nice dog. She had champion German bloodlines, and the stud had equally impressive ancestry. Depending on their quality, the pups will sell for anywhere from eighteen hundred to twenty-five hundred dollars apiece.”

  Isaiah could promise nothing. “I can ask my techs. Maybe one of them will be interested.”

  “In return for pick of the litter, we’d be willing to sign off on all the other pups.” He glanced at his wife. “Right, Nan? Somebody could make a lot of money, and we’d get one of Phoebe’s puppies.”

  Nan’s mouth trembled as she attempted to smile. “Oh, yes. That would be wonderful.”

  Isaiah nodded. “I’ll pass the word. Maybe one of my techs will take them on. If not, what would you like me to do?”

  Stan’s expression grew grim. “If nobody’s interested in bottle-feeding them, we’ll have no choice but to put them down.”

  None of the techs could bottle-feed thirteen puppies for the next month. Isaiah had no idea what the stories were in Tucker’s wing, but in his own everyone had a reason that made such an endeavor impossible. Trish wept as she refused the offer, but between her job, a husband, two kids, and a pair of rambunctious Airedales, she was already stretched too thin. Susan lived with her mother and didn’t have room for thirteen puppies in so small a house. Belinda lived in an apartment that didn’t allow pets, as did Angela, James, and Mike.

  Isaiah considered trying to raise the puppies himself, but when he got down to the practicalities, he knew it was an insane idea. The first couple of weeks the puppies would have to be fed every two to three hours, making it impossible to leave them at the clinic overnight. There was a four-hour lapse after nightshift ended until six in the morning, when the clinic opened, and it would be at least another hour if not more before someone could devote time to the puppies. Such young dogs needed to be fed frequently and regularly. Isaiah would have to take the puppies home every night so they wouldn’t miss a feeding. What would happen if he got called back in on an emergency? He couldn’t cart around thirteen puppies everywhere he went.

  With a heavy heart, Isaiah prepared to euthanize the litter. He’d just filled a syringe with anesthetic, which would be injected into each puppy’s heart, when Laura entered the surgery. Isaiah was surprised to see her. It was almost six o’clock. Her afternoon shift had ended two hours earlier.

  “Hi!” she called as she crossed the room to take an inventory of the snack supplies before she left.

  “What are you still doing here?” Isaiah asked, his tone just a little sharper than he intended.

  “I was sitting with Rambo. His leg still hurts.”

  Rambo, a pit bull mix, had jumped off a deck onto cement and fractured a front leg. It wasn’t unusual for Laura to hang around when one of her charges needed a little extra TLC, but today Isaiah really wished she hadn’t. She would not be happy if she learned that thirteen puppies were about to be put down. He already felt bad enough. If she started to cry—and it was a sure bet that she would—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to do what had to be done.

  He gazed after her as she stepped into the adjoining cloakroom. When she emerged a moment later, juggling her purse as she pulled on a jacket, she spotted the puppies.

  “Oh, how sweet.”

  Isaiah hadn’t bothered to ask Laura if she would be interested in bottle-feeding the babies. Her landlord had a strict no-pet policy.

  “Don’t look at them,” Trish told Laura with a loud sniff. “It’ll only break your heart. Isaiah has to put all of them to sleep.”

  “Why?” Laura’s eyes widened with dismay. As she moved across the room toward Isaiah, her gaze remained fixed on the squirming black puppies lying on the towel. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “Nothing,” he replied. “Their mother died. The owners can’t bottle-feed them because they both work. For the next several days they’ll need to be fed every two hours, or they won’t make it. After that, it’ll be every three hours, at least, until they’re weaned.”

  Laura curled a slender hand over one of the puppies. Isaiah knew by her expression that she was frantically trying to think of a way to take on the job.

  “Forget it, honey. Your landlord would blow a gasket.” He thumbed the syringe plunger to spurt a little anesthetic. “It’s just one of those things. We all hate it, but that’s the downside of veterinary medi-cine. Sometimes I dance on clouds when I leave here. Tonight I’ll feel like hell.”

  “No,” Laura whispered. Her gaze flashed to his, and she said the word again, louder this time: “No.” Her larynx bobbed as she swallowed. “You can’t kill them, Isaiah. In three or four weeks they’ll be big enough to eat normal food.”

  Isaiah saw her heart shining in those big, hazel eyes. “Sweetheart, what else can I do?” Sweetheart? Where had that come from? “You can’t keep them at your place. No one else can do it, either. Thirteen puppies? Think about it.”

  “Let me call Gram,” she said in a quavering voice. “Maybe she’ll let me keep them there.”

  Isaiah sighed and capped the syringe. “Okay. Go for it. It’s not like I want to do this.”

  Laura returned to the cloakroom to make the call. Moments later, when she reappeared, Isaiah knew without asking that her grandmother had said no. Her eyes were swimming with tears. Her chin was trembling. She came over to the table and picked up one of the tiny, wrinkle-faced puppies. After brushing her cheek the length of its small black body, she laid it back on the towel.

  “New carpet,” she said softly. “Indoor/outdoor in the kitchen and baths. If they got out of the box they’d ruin her rugs.”

  She gave him a final, agonized look and then fled from the surgery. The door swung closed behind her with such force that it jiggled on the hinges. Isaiah stared thoughtfully after her and then lowered his gaze to the puppies. Damn it. He despised this part of his job.

  “Maybe someone at the Humane Society would take them,” Trish suggested with forced cheer.

  “We could call and see,” Belinda agreed.

  Angela piped in with, “If that’s a dead end, why not call around to some other vets? There’s got to be someone out there who’d like to make some extra money doing a good deed.”

  Isaiah stepped over to the hazardous-waste receptacle and pushed the capped syringe through the flap. “I have a better idea. Would you get a blanket from the warmer and cover the puppies, Trish? I don’t want them getting chilled while I’m away.”

  “Where you going?” she asked.

  Isaiah grinned mysteriously. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Laura was about to climb into her car when a shout stopped her short. Recognizing Isaiah’s voice, she turned to look back. Shrugging into a jacket, he moved toward her through the dusky gloom, his breath forming puffs of steam. She waited while he picked his way across the icy parking lot. When he reached her, he drew to a stop and gazed at the darkening sky for a long moment.

  “I’ve got a proposition for you,” he finally said.

  Laura tossed her purse in the car. She felt helplessly angry and was battling tears. “What’s that?”

  A lazy grin moved slowly across his mouth, deepening the creases in his lean cheeks. “You ready for a really wild idea?” His eyes shimmered like molten silver in the fading light, in startling contrast to his dark hair and skin. “How about you staying out at my place to take care of the puppies until they’re weaned?”

  Laura took in the words, but for a moment their meaning danced inside her brain like droplets of water on a red-hot griddle. “What?”

  His grin broadened. “I told you it was a wild idea. But it’s not really when you think about it. I’ve got all wood floors or tile. A litter of puppies can’t really hurt anything.”

  “You want me to stay at your house?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. When I built the place, I went for broke and put in five bedrooms. So
meday—not anytime soon, of course—I hope to get married and have a family, so it’s not like I don’t have room. My brother Jake has a plastic wading pool out in the barn. They work great for a litter of newborn puppies. You just toss in some towels for bedding, and the slick sides keep them from climbing out. When they get older, we can get one of those portable wire kennels and cover the floor with newspaper.”

  Laura couldn’t think what to say.

  “You’ll have to bring them with you when you come to work,” he tacked on. “That’ll be a major pain in the ass. But once you get here you can put them in one of the kennels until you’re ready to leave. Could be that you’ll even be able to recruit volunteers to help feed them while you’re working.”

  Almost from the start Laura had been battling her feelings for this man. Now she lost the war. He had such a good heart. How could she help but love him? He was, without question, the handsomest man she’d ever known, and now, by making this offer, he had convinced her that he was also the kindest. She wanted to throw her arms around his strong neck and give him a great big kiss.

  Not a good situation. Staying at his place would be a recipe for heartbreak. As it was, she struggled to keep her feelings for him in check. How could she possibly hope to do that if she saw him constantly, not only at work, but at home as well? They’d probably share meals. There might even be times when they’d spend an evening watching television together. She’d be like a chocolate lover living in a chocolate factory, endlessly subjected to temptation but unable to indulge her cravings.

  If it weren’t for the puppies, Laura would have declined the offer. But how could she possibly do that when thirteen lives hung in the balance? Yes, she needed to protect her heart, but at what cost? If watching out for herself meant that those puppies had to die, the price was way too high.

  “Come on,” he urged with a low laugh. “It’s not like I’m a stranger. No funny business, I promise.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” Laura took a bracing breath. If only. Butterflies of dread attacked her stomach. “It’s a lovely offer, Isaiah. How can I say no?”

  “Now you’re talking.” He struck the heel of his boot against a patch of ice, sending shards flying. “We’ve got puppy formula here at the clinic. One of us can stop at a department store tonight and pick up some doll bottles. Until then we can feed them with a syringe.”

  Laura’s thoughts were going in circles. “I’ll need to pack some clothes. And my fridge! I can’t just leave stuff in there to spoil.”

  “No problem. Go home. Do whatever you have to do. I’ll swing by Jake’s to get the wading pool and take the puppies on out to my place. We’ll manage fine until you arrive. I’ll get them settled in and feed them. After you do everything at your apartment, can you swing by a department store to get some doll bottles?” He went on to describe the kind they would need. “To make feeding times simpler, I’d get thirteen if you can. I’ll pay for them. Just bring me the receipt.”

  “I’m not sure I can find your house. The day we took Hapless out, I didn’t watch the way.”

  He gestured toward the clinic with a swing of his head. “I’ll draw you a map.”

  That evening was one of the busiest in Laura’s memory. After stopping by her apartment to remove perishables from the fridge and pack personal items for her stay at Isaiah’s house, she went to town for doll bottles. Small bottles with pliable nipples, suitable for a puppy’s mouth, weren’t easy to find. She finally ran across some in a dollar store, the plus side being that they were inexpensive, the downside being that she had had to make five stops before she found them.

  By the time she reached Isaiah’s, it was almost eight o’clock. As she parked in the circular drive, she stared in awe at the huge log house, which looked entirely different at night than it had during the day. Butter-yellow light poured through the massive front windows, which stretched clear from the floor to the lofty peak of the center gable. Smaller gables flanked it on each side, sporting French doors that opened onto second-story balconies. Directional flood lamps had been tucked among the shrubs that bordered the home’s foundation. Light fanned upward from the snow-laden greenery to bathe the logs in an amber glow.

  Laura had just exited her car and pushed the driver’s seat forward to retrieve stuff from the backseat when Isaiah and Hapless emerged from the house. The puppy gave a happy bark and came tumbling down the steps to greet her. Isaiah’s grin was just as welcoming.

  “I was worried that you’d gotten lost!” he called as he descended the steps with considerably more grace than the puppy.

  “No, the map was great.” Laura set a cardboard box on the roof of her car and bent back inside to grab an oversize satchel stuffed with clothing. “It just took me longer than I hoped. I had trouble finding the bottles. Most stores don’t carry them any-more.”

  “Little girls don’t play with baby dolls like they used to. You found some, I hope.”

  Laura held up a sack. “Thirteen. The clerk made sure I counted right. I think they’ll work.”

  He took the bag and opened it toward the light. “Right on. These will do great.”

  Arms laden with belongings, Laura bumped the car door closed with her hip. “I went to five stores before I found them.”

  “Five? Jeesh.” He stepped over to take the box and overnight case from the top of the Mazda. “You must be beat.”

  “A little.”

  Working in tandem, they began carrying her things to the house and depositing them just inside the front door. As they went back and forth, they spoke in starts and stops. He told her that he’d fed the puppies with a syringe and put them in the wading pool for a snooze. “I called the people who owned their mother. When the puppies are weaned, they’d like to have their pick of the litter. You can sell the others and keep the money.”

  When Laura heard how much each puppy might bring, she couldn’t believe her ears. “How much did you say?”

  “You heard me,” he said with a grin. “If they all live, and I see no reason why they shouldn’t, this endeavor will be very profitable.”

  Laura hadn’t given a thought to the financial rewards. “I didn’t know a dog could cost that much.”

  “Oh, yeah. Certain breeds, anyway. Evidently the mother and father were both show quality. German bloodlines, they said. Some of the puppies will command a very high price.”

  When they had carried everything inside, Isaiah closed the front door and swung a hand to encompass the house. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  Laura took in the spacious living room, which seemed all the larger because it was almost empty. A wrought-iron chandelier hung from the center beam of the knotty-pine ceiling. Its mellow light combined with that of a fire crackling cheerfully in a large rock fireplace at the opposite end of the room to wash the unadorned log walls with amber. Two burgundy beanbag chairs sat before the raised hearth. A big-screen television was the only other piece of furniture.

  “It’s a great house.” Empty, but pretty.

  She wondered why he had no sofa or regular chairs, but before she could think of a polite way to ask, he said, “I keep meaning to do something with the rooms, but I never seem to find the time.”

  “Oh.” Laura bit back a smile. That was so like Isaiah, always racing from one task to the next, with never enough hours in his day. “Finding the right pieces takes a lot of time, and it’s not something you should rush. Once you get a couch and chairs, you’ll be stuck with them for a while.”

  “Exactly.” He gave her a speculative look. “You’d be good at it, I bet.”

  “Good at what?”

  “Picking out furniture. I thought about hiring a decorator, but every time I start to call, I chicken out and hang up.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Tucker’s decorator did a great job with his place. It’s just . . .” He gestured with his hand. “I’m afraid she’d do it up fancy like his, and I’d hate that
. I want my home to reflect my personality, not someone else’s. You know what I’m saying?”

  Laura understood exactly what he meant. It wouldn’t do for some decorator to come in there and create a spectacular showplace with delicate knickknacks cluttering every surface. Isaiah was a hardworking man with an outdoorsy lifestyle. He needed furniture and wall decorations that suited his personality. Laura envisioned a durable leather sofa and oversize easy chairs, flanked by distressed-wood tables—chunky, comfortable furniture in keeping with the style of the house and the man who lived there.

  As she stepped farther into the room, she ran her gaze over the loft above her. She loved the railing, made of yet more logs, none of them planed, so each post had natural twists and knots to lend it character. A staircase to her left angled up the wall, providing ingress to the top floor.

  “There are three bedrooms up there and two more down here,” he explained. “I’d offer you your choice of sleeping accommodations, but only the first-floor guest room has a bed.”

  Laura couldn’t help but laugh. She was just pleased to know that she wouldn’t be expected to sleep on the floor. “Down here is fine.”

  “It’s probably just as well.” He gestured at the railing above them. “If a puppy escaped from the wading pool up there, it’d be a mighty long drop.”

  Laura shuddered at the thought. “Did you design the house?” she asked as she turned to see everything.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because it’s like you somehow.”

  Laura had no better words to explain it, only that the house reminded her of him: big, attractive, solid, and straightforward, yet imaginative as well. She liked the window seats to the right of the front door. They were wider than most and ran quite deep, providing enough room for a person to recline. With some bright, overstuffed cushions, they would provide cozy reading areas with all the natural light that would pour through the windows during the day.

  “Let me take your coat,” he offered. “Then I’ll show you through.”

  As Laura drew off her jacket to hand it over, Hapless reared up on her leg for petting. “Hello, Hapless. Oh, yes, I love you, too.” Laura gave the puppy a scratch behind the ears. “You’re a sweetie. Yes, you are.”