by Rachel Lacey
“Thanks,” I told him.
“When you bring a puppy named Cherry into the Cherry Street Veterinary Clinic, you know she’s going to get the star treatment.” He rested a hand briefly on my shoulder, and I smiled, grateful to him for putting me at ease. “Do you need me to talk to someone from the shelter to get authorization?”
Right. This was probably going to be expensive, and Cherry wasn’t mine. “I’ll call. You’d do the surgery today, if they approve it?”
Dr. Moore nodded. “I’ve got an opening this afternoon, and I’d like to get her right in if possible.”
“Okay. Is it all right if I sit in here to call the shelter and get authorization?”
“Sure thing,” he told me. “I’ll check back in a few minutes.”
I pulled my cell phone out of my purse and dialed Taylor.
“Hi,” she said when the line connected. “Any news on Cherry?”
“Yeah. She has a tumor growing on her liver, and they want to do emergency surgery right away.”
“Damn,” Taylor breathed. “Any idea what kind of prognosis they’re giving her?”
“He said they wouldn’t know much until they remove it, but since it seems to be growing pretty rapidly, it needs to come out whether it’s cancerous or not.”
“All right.” The clattering of a keyboard echoed over the line. “Our funds are—as always—low, but I’ll organize a fundraiser for Cherry. The community usually comes through for us when something like this happens. I can’t imagine that they won’t come through for a precious little puppy like Cherry. Just remind Emmett to give us our usual discount? And we’ll need a payment plan. I can authorize you to charge two hundred to the rescue’s card today for a down payment.”
“I’ll tell him. Thanks, Taylor.”
I ended the call as the vet came back into the exam room. We worked out the payment details, and then I was in my car, headed home without Cherry. When I got there, I went straight to the bedroom to check on Violet and the other puppies. She seemed calm, not overly concerned about her missing baby, which was a little bit surprising, but maybe she was able to live in the moment in a way most people weren’t.
The idea of freedom from the mistakes of my past or worry about the future felt awfully enticing. And in fact, maybe it was what I should be focusing on. Maybe I should be savoring every moment with Taylor instead of worrying what our future held. As I watched Violet grooming her three healthy puppies, I vowed to try harder to live in the present.
I’d planned to go shopping for accents and artwork for the main living areas today, but I was too tired after having been up half the night with Cherry. Instead, I climbed into bed and dozed off. The sound of my phone ringing yanked me back to consciousness. I blinked as I rolled over, looking for my phone. It was on the table by the bed, and my dad’s name flashed on the screen. I connected the call. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, sweetie. Are you okay? You sound a little hoarse.”
“Oh, sorry. I was asleep,” I told him, clearing my throat to rid myself of my sleep voice. “I was up most of the night with a puppy medical emergency, so I just took a nap.”
“That’s not good. I’m sorry I woke you,” he said.
“It’s fine. What’s up?”
“How’s the puppy?” he asked.
“She’s having emergency surgery this afternoon to remove a mass from her liver. Hopefully, I’ll hear something soon.”
“That sounds serious.” He paused. “And also expensive.”
“The shelter pays for all of it,” I told him.
“Well, that’s good.”
“Yeah.” I snuggled further under the quilt.
“Anyway, I was calling to let you know that I’ve decided not to sell the cabin,” he told me, and even though it was the news I’d expected, my stomach still sank knowing Taylor wouldn’t get her wish.
“Okay, well, thanks for at least thinking about it,” I said. My phone beeped, indicating I had another call. “Dad? I need to go. I think the vet’s calling with an update about the puppy.”
“All right, dear. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye,” I told him, then connected the call. “Hello?”
“Is this Phoebe Shaw?” a male voice asked.
“Yes, this is Phoebe.”
“Hi, Phoebe, this is Emmett Moore from the Cherry Street Veterinary Clinic. I’m calling to let you know that Cherry came through surgery well. We successfully removed the mass on her liver and sent it off to be biopsied at the state lab.”
“Oh good,” I breathed. “How is she?”
“She’s just starting to come out from under the anesthesia. Given her age and size, she’ll need to stay overnight at the least,” he told me.
I cringed because that sounded expensive, but I was also glad she’d have medical professionals watching over her for the time being instead of me. “Is it okay for her to be away from her mom like that?”
“Oh, sure,” he said. “She’s resting comfortably in an incubator for warmth. If she’s alert enough, we’ll bottle feed her tonight, but we can tube feed if necessary.”
“Tube feed?” My voice rose.
“It’s not as scary as it sounds. We just put a small flexible tube down her throat into her stomach to deliver formula to her that way if she’s unable to drink on her own.”
Well, that didn’t exactly put a comforting image in my mind, but I supposed that as long as she got the nourishment she needed, that was the important thing. “And will she be able to nurse again once she’s back home?”
“In all likelihood, yes,” he said. “There’s no medical reason why she couldn’t, but occasionally, a puppy might develop a preference for a bottle, or her mother might reject her once she’s been separated.”
“Oh.” I glanced over at Violet, who was currently grooming Sunny. She was a great mama, but she had briefly rejected Cherry when she was born not breathing.
“She’ll probably resume nursing like a champ,” he said. “And if not, you’ll only have to bottle feed her for a few weeks before she’s old enough to wean.”
“Assuming she’s okay,” I said, voicing my lingering fear.
“That’s right,” he agreed, sounding more somber now. “If the tumor is malignant, I’ll be honest with you, her prognosis is not good. However, there’s every reason to believe it was benign, in which case, I’m hopeful she’ll make a full recovery.”
As it turned out, Cherry spent two days in the hospital. While she was away, I spent most of my free time working on financial consultations for local businesses. I hadn’t been sure if anyone would respond to my Facebook postings, but my grandma had been a popular lady around here, and now it seemed like everyone who had known her wanted me to come in and give them financial advice.
I set up my laptop at the kitchen table, where I could work without the constant squealing and squawking of puppies. They were three weeks old now and starting to wobble around the playpen on their own, which was absolutely adorable. Violet didn’t stay with them all the time anymore. Sometimes, she’d come down the hall and lie on the dog bed in the living room near me for a little break. I trusted her judgment on that, and so far, everything seemed to be fine.
I spent the afternoon finishing up some numbers for Mrs. Ashton’s yarn shop, and then it was time to pick up Cherry from the vet. The hospital was about forty minutes away, and I spent the whole drive worrying over her prognosis and the care she would require once she was home, envisioning tiny stitches and bandages. I wasn’t very good with wounds. I never had been. Just the thought made me shudder.
When I arrived, a vet tech took me back to an empty exam room, and a few minutes later, Dr. Moore entered.
“Hi there,” he said. “You’ll be relieved to know that Cherry’s biopsy came up negative.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a welcome rush of relief. “That’s great news.”
He nodded. “Her bloodwork so far indicates that her liver is functioning normally, so we’re
cautiously optimistic that there won’t be any issues. We’ll need to see her again in a few days for a recheck.”
He spent the next ten minutes or so going over all her care with me, and by the time he went to get Cherry, my head was spinning. He carried her in the same box I’d brought her here in two days ago, except she was lying on her side now, revealing a row of silver staples along her belly that made me vaguely nauseous.
Consequently, I was already reaching for my phone as I walked to the parking lot with her. “Can you stay with me tonight?” I asked when Taylor connected the call. “I’m so worried about caring for Cherry and keeping her incision safe, and…I don’t have any experience with anything like this.”
“Yeah, let me just find someone to watch Minnie for me, but I should be able to do that, no problem,” she said.
“What about Blue?”
“He was adopted this morning.” I could hear the smile in Taylor’s voice.
“Aw, good for him.”
“Yep,” Taylor said. “He went home with a woman who lives alone and was looking for a loyal companion. I think they’ll be a perfect match.”
“That does sound perfect for him,” I agreed, still boggled by how she could care for a dog and then give it up. I was already attached to Violet and her puppies, torn between wondering how I was going to say goodbye and wishing they were already gone so I could finish up with the cabin and get back to Boston…unless I found a way to stay here with Taylor.
“So how is Cherry?” she asked.
“Well, her biopsy came up negative, which is the good news. As long as her liver keeps working and nothing else goes wrong, she should be okay.” I tucked her box into the passenger seat and wrapped the seat belt around it to keep it in place. Cherry stared up at me out of squinty, baby-blue eyes. “I’m just worried about her recovery right now.”
“I’ll come over in an hour or so, all right? Don’t panic in the meantime. She’ll be fine. The littlest ones tend to be the quickest to heal, you know?”
“If you say so. And thank you.”
I ended the call and drove home carefully, sneaking glances at Cherry the whole time. She fell asleep a few minutes into the drive and slept the rest of the way home. When I got there, I carried her inside, and, as Dr. Moore had suggested, I held the box out to let Violet sniff her when she greeted me at the front door. Violet gave her several enthusiastic licks—which seemed like a good sign—before sniffing at her belly.
“I have to put this silly little sock shirt on her before I can give her back to you,” I told Violet. One of the vet techs had cut head and leg holes through a couple of old socks for Cherry to wear to protect her incision from her siblings’ paws and Violet’s grooming attempts. Even so, I was going to have to keep a close eye on her…and she might not be able to go back in with her littermates at all. It was going to be a process of trial and error to see how they all reacted.
Violet followed on my heels as I walked to the bedroom. I set Cherry’s box on the bed and opened the bag of supplies the hospital had sent home with me, pulling out one of the sock shirts. She whimpered as I lifted her from the box. Trying my hardest not to look at her incision, I worked her wiggly legs through the openings on the sock and slid it down her body. It was harder than I’d expected due to her constant squirming. Her legs never seemed to be where I needed them.
But finally, I had it. The sock actually had little cherries on it, and oh my God, it was possibly the cutest thing I’d ever seen. I set her on the bedspread and took some pictures with my phone that Taylor could post on the shelter’s blog for their fundraiser. Cherry watched me for a minute in confusion, then scrunched up her eyes and howled for her mama.
“Okay, okay,” I told her. I pressed a kiss against her forehead and then set her in the playpen. My chest felt suddenly heavy as I watched her crawl across the bedding toward her siblings. Would they take her back? What if they ripped out one of her staples, regardless of the shirt?
Violet climbed in and lay down, sniffing at Cherry. She nuzzled the shirt, attempting to get her nose beneath it, probably wanting to lick Cherry’s incision.
“Violet, no,” I told her.
She looked up at me with those soulful eyes before returning her attention to her puppy. Cherry settled in to nurse, only to be toppled by Elizabeth. The puppy rolled belly up, squealing loudly, and my heart catapulted into my throat. Had she popped a staple? Had she done internal damage? What was I thinking even trying to put her back in with her siblings?
I scooped her up and brought her with me to the bed, where I lay on my back and settled her on my chest. She crawled over to lie in the crook of my arm and closed her eyes. I hadn’t seen any blood on the shirt, so I was going to assume the incision was okay for now.
With Cherry’s warm, solid weight resting against my heart, I tried to relax, hoping Taylor got here soon, because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. I should have checked when Cherry had been fed last before I lay down, but since she seemed content, I wasn’t going to disturb her until Taylor got here.
Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. Taylor knocked at the front door about ten minutes later, and I called out to her, hoping I wouldn’t have to move Cherry. “Come on in.”
The door creaked open, and then I heard Taylor’s footsteps in the hall. She entered the bedroom, wearing her usual jeans and T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. A dreamy smile passed over her face as she saw me lying in bed with Cherry. “How’s it going?”
“I’m scared to put her back in with her siblings, in case they mess with her staples. Elizabeth knocked her over the minute I set her down.”
“What did the vet say?” Taylor sat on the bed beside me, rubbing Cherry’s head as I went over everything Dr. Moore had told me. As she listened, she gently rolled Cherry onto her side and lifted the shirt to inspect the incision. I averted my eyes. Just the sight of those staples in her skin made my stomach squirm. “Don’t worry,” Taylor told me. “We’ve got this. I haven’t cared for a puppy this tiny post-op before, but I’ve cared for plenty of larger ones.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I told her, leaning over to give her a kiss.
“And I can stay a couple of nights if you need me,” she said. “Minnie’s with my sister.”
“Oh my God.” Everything inside me seemed to loosen and get lighter. Not only would I have help with Cherry, but I’d get to spend several nights with Taylor. What had felt like a scary and burdensome ordeal suddenly seemed almost fun. “That’s too good to be true, Taylor. Really?”
She grinned at me. “Really.”
26
Taylor
I sat cross legged in the middle of the bed with Cherry positioned across my knees as I brought the bottle to her mouth. I hadn’t bottle-fed a puppy before, but I had cared for a litter of abandoned kittens once, so I figured it would be similar. The veterinary hospital had sent a packet of detailed instructions home with Phoebe, so I wasn’t worried. Cherry took the bottle easily, eyes closing as she began to suck down her formula.
“You can tell she’s had a few days’ practice at this while she was in the hospital,” I said, hoping to reassure Phoebe, who was clearly fearful about caring for a post-op puppy.
Phoebe leaned forward to watch. “You make that look easy.”
“Cherry’s doing all the work,” I said. We’d tried putting her back in with her siblings, but she’d gotten knocked around a lot, and Violet kept trying to remove her shirt, so we’d decided to bottle-feed her for now. Hopefully, in a few days, when she was stronger and the incision wasn’t so fresh, we’d be able to get her nursing again.
The puppy made cute little slurping noises as she ate. I held the bottle steady, tipping it just enough to help her drink without overwhelming her with milk. I’d been able to mix her medication into the formula, so we were killing two birds with one stone here. “This sock shirt with the cherries on it is the cutest fucking thing. Did you make that for her?” I asked.
After Cherry finished her bottle, I cleaned her up, since I couldn’t let Violet do the job at the moment. Then I tucked the puppy into her box with the portable heating pad to keep her cozy while she napped. I snuggled closer to Phoebe on the bed, and she wrapped an arm around me, drawing me close.
Lying here with her in the master bedroom of Margery’s cabin, everything felt upside down. I’d hoped this bedroom would be mine, that this cabin would be mine. I’d hoped I’d never see Phoebe again, and then I’d hoped she would leave town before I was foolish enough to fall for her again. And yet, here we were.
“This isn’t what I thought Vermont was going to look like,” Phoebe murmured, one hand splayed across my stomach beneath my shirt. “I thought I’d fix up this cabin and be on my way back to Boston by now.”
“Any progress on that front?” I asked, determined not to let her know how much I wished she could stay.
She shook her head. “I had a Skype interview last week, but I haven’t heard anything more about it.”
“Have you applied for many jobs?” I felt somewhat guilty that I hadn’t been more supportive of her job hunt so far. She owned a condo in Boston. Her friends and family were there. It was where she lived, and nothing I said or did would change that.
“Yeah,” she said. “Everything I can find. I need a real paycheck.”
“How is your consulting going?”
“Pretty good. It’s enough to tide me over until I find a permanent job.”
“Could it be more than that?” I asked, hardly daring to hope.
“Enough to live on?” she asked. “No, and I think soon I’ll have run through all of my grandma’s friends who needed their finances checked. I need a real job.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
“My dad called the other day,” she said quietly.
“Oh?”
“He still doesn’t want to sell. I’m sorry, Taylor.”
“It’s okay,” I said automatically, even though it wasn’t. I’d let myself get my hopes up that Phoebe would be able to give me at least one of the things I wanted, and if I couldn’t have her, this cabin was the next best thing. Now, for the first time, I truly grasped that I was going to lose it too. I was going to have to watch tourists tromp around on this land that should have been mine, and I was going to hate every moment of it.