Wednesday Walks & Wags
Page 7
“You? Camping?” Nichole sputtered before breaking into a hearty laugh.
“Hey,” Amy objected, tapping her fists on the table gently. Amy did everything gently. “Stranger things have happened!”
Hazel got out of her chair and wrapped an arm around Amy. “I think it’s great. I mean, soon we’ll have more than just my wedding to plan, if you catch my drift.”
“Everyone catches your drift, each and every time,” Nichole said, rolling her eyes.
Amy turned beet red, which was especially noticeable given her fair features. Blond and light, just like Wesley, Bridget thought with a smile.
No, bad! She needed to stop thinking of him when he wasn’t around. She took another big bite of her curry and let the tingling, jabbing spices steal her focus away from the man she wasn’t meant to think about.
Chapter 17
Bridget had not been looking forward to returning to work Monday morning. She still didn’t know how she’d handle another talk about her future with Dr. Kate. Seriously, why did everyone in her life demand that they have heart-to-hearts all of a sudden?
Maybe that was why she liked Wesley so much lately.
He just let her be. Hazel, too, hadn’t been bothering her much, but she’d also been too busy with her wedding planning to really notice that something might be off with Bridget. Once Hazel figured it out, though, she’d be the one to dig in the hardest.
Then there would be no safe place that Bridget could hide, no talking her way out of whatever intervention would surely follow.
Dr. Kate had called one of the other techs to help her in surgery that week, which meant Bridget was off the hook. She’d managed to make it through the entire morning without any run-ins with her well-meaning boss, when a familiar face turned up in the waiting room.
She would never forget those large, shining eyes or the auburn dyed hair that came with them—never, not as long as she lived. Samantha had returned to the animal clinic, and this time without her cat, Brownie.
Bridget’s heart fell straight through the floorboards and continued to sink all the way down toward the center of the earth’s molten core.
Samantha didn’t smile, so she didn’t try to force it, either.
“Hi, Samantha,” Bridget said softly.
“Hello,” the young woman answered, choking on a sob at the end of this short greeting. Her hair had been pulled back into a hasty ponytail, and her shirt looked as if it belonged to part of a pajama set. It had probably taken Samantha everything she had just to get out of bed. Bringing herself all the way to the vet’s office had, no doubt, taken real internal strength.
Bridget placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, felt her sobs intensifying, the tremors in her body becoming more and more pronounced.
“Thank you for helping Brownie,” Samantha sniffled. “He died last night in his sleep. I wanted you to know.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Bridget wrapped her arms around Samantha and held tight while Samantha continued to cry. Bridget had become an expert on crying as she watched her friends’ sick parents, and then her own mother, die. Everyone in her world had cried so much, she had begun to wonder if it even meant anything anymore, if it wasn’t just what their bodies had trained themselves to do.
Samantha grabbed a tissue from her front jeans pocket and blew hard. “Don’t be. You made his last days easier. Gave me the chance to say goodbye. He was old, and—”
“Shhh.” Bridget hugged her even tighter, eliciting a fresh round of tears from Samantha. Her own body responded in kind, weeping fat, silent tears as it recognized the pain in another. “You don’t need to explain anything. Brownie was so lucky to have a long life with a person who loved him so, so much.”
Bridget couldn’t be sure how long the two of them stood there, each taking silent comfort from the other. It wasn’t until Dr. Kate offered Samantha a chilled bottle of water that Bridget even remembered she was still in the vet clinic and not in the oncology ward of the hospital.
Apparently grief had become part of her muscle memory; Samantha’s loss had transported her back to that day with her mother. The last day they’d ever have.
Hadn’t it been just like this when her mother’s light, bubbly spirit had finally left her heavy, diseased body? Everyone had told Bridget how sorry they were for her loss, but they didn’t know her mother, didn’t know what she’d lost. They’d only known the sick, fatigued shell her mom had become in her final days; they couldn’t possibly understand.
And in trying to comfort Samantha now, Bridget was doing the same thing that had only made Bridget feel worse following her own loss. Everyone said, “I’m so sorry” or “My condolences” or “She’s in a better place now,” but no one knew the person they were so politely mourning. That was the biggest loss of all—that so many people had missed out on getting to know such a beautiful person.
“Tell me about Brownie,” Bridget whispered, using what little strength she had to bring a reassuring smile to her face. People always told her she had a beautiful smile, angelic even, and she hoped it would help Samantha now. “I want to hear all your favorite memories. I want to know what he’d do now if he saw you looking so sad.”
Samantha sniffed, pulled out of Bridget’s arms, and then returned Bridget’s smile full force. She became beautiful in that instant, a beacon of pure love.
Bridget couldn’t look away as the grieving pet owner told her everything that had endeared Brownie to her over the years.
“He was such an amazing cat. I wish I’d had the chance to get to know him better,” Bridget said, when it seemed Samantha had run out of stories to share.
And when Samantha left a short while later, Dr. Kate found Bridget almost immediately. “How did you know just what to say?”
Bridget wrapped her arms around herself for strength. “Because I’ve been there, too.”
Dr. Kate nodded, calling Bridget’s attention to the extra rosiness of her cheeks. Had she perhaps been crying, too?
The veterinarian offered a sad smile and placed a shaky hand on Bridget’s shoulder. “Maybe I was wrong in what I said last week. Your heart is huge and vulnerable, but that could be the very thing that makes you a great veterinarian.”
“Thank you,” Bridget sputtered. She hadn’t known many authority figures who’d admit they’d judged a situation incorrectly, especially so shortly after it had happened. All Bridget had done was be herself, both when she’d offered to help Samantha and when she’d comforted her after Brownie’s passing.
Even though life was sometimes hard, it moved forward, no matter what. Things changed; things got taken away, but things always kept going.
Chapter 18
The rest of Bridget’s workday was slow and uneventful following the emotional visit from Samantha. That was probably for the best, considering she had no idea how she’d be able to focus on her job responsibilities.
Her mind kept returning to Brownie.
To her mother.
To the fact she’d hardly been back to visit her father’s house since moving out the second time. Those who had died were lost to her. She couldn’t change that, but she could do her best not to lose those who remained.
No one in her family had ever been much of a phone person, and her father had flat-out refused to take up texting, so no in-person visits meant no communication at all. And that would just not do.
Guilt gnawed at Bridget the entire drive back to her apartment. After all, her father had sustained just as big a loss as she had. Probably even a bigger one. She’d lost her mother, but he had lost his partner in life.
Needing to do whatever she could to right the situation immediately, she stopped off at her apartment to collect the dogs, then swung through their favorite drive-through to grab a hot meal for them to share. Thank goodness for credit cards, especially those that allowed the user to spend over the limit. There was no way she’d show up empty-handed now after playing the absentee daughter for so long.
Her fathe
r greeted her at the door with a huge smile and a weak hug. He’d never been much of a hugger, but Bridget suspected that he had used up all his tolerance for the small gesture of comfort following her mother’s funeral. Back then, everyone had latched on to anyone in the family they could find and hung on like a persistent, condolence-spouting burr. They meant well, but that didn’t change the fact that their presence had become a nuisance.
“How’d you know I was coming?” Bridget asked her father, noticing that his shirt collar stood up on one side and lay flat on the other. She patted his shoulder as an excuse to tuck in his popped collar.
“It’s hard to miss you and the canine crew coming down the street,” he answered with a wink and then immediately raised his collar again. “You’re right on time. Pizza should be here any minute.”
“Actually I brought burgers and fries. Just need to go grab them from the car.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the vision of her middle-aged father standing there like some frat boy, collar popped and waiting for his pizza to arrive.
He met her chuckle with one of his own. “Then we’ll have ourselves a feast tonight.”
“Is Caleb home?” Bridget asked, searching the living room for any sign of the encroaching mess that tended to follow her brother wherever he went. Even though he was five years her senior, Caleb had never once moved out of the house. He claimed he’d rather be a starving artist than a corporate drone and had taken up one creative pursuit after the next, only to lose interest the moment it became too hard.
Their eldest brother, Devon, had left home to pursue college in the lower forty-eight, and they’d seen him only a handful of times since—their mother’s funeral having been the latest. He kept busy as the kind of corporate drone Caleb swore he’d never become, but then again, Devon had money, a gorgeous home, and a loving wife, and her other brother had nothing of note.
“He’s at a writing conference this week, so it’ll just be you and me.”
Bridget stomped her foot in frustration and said, “Dad, you didn’t pay for it, did you?”
“Well, how else was he going to be able to go?”
“Why does he have to go at all? It’s not like he’s an actual writer.”
“Hush, none of that. He’s really been working hard on his novel these past several months. I know you don’t see it, because to you, he’ll always be your screwup big brother, but he’s changed since your mother passed.”
“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it.” She hated how Caleb manipulated her father—had manipulated both parents when their mother was still around. She’d lived here for a couple months between apartments, and all she’d ever seen was her brother goofing around on the Internet or playing video games. There was no going to work, no earning a living or repaying their father’s generosity and patience.
She was just about to apologize when the pizza delivery truck pulled into the driveway. Although she didn’t have much to spare, Bridget insisted on paying the delivery boy herself.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been around more lately,” she said as she set the bright orange box on the table in front of her father. “Things have been really busy with work.”
“Oh, I understand. Don’t worry about me.” His smile lessened but didn’t disappear completely. Maybe he was handling things better than Bridget had assumed. “Let’s go eat.”
She grabbed some paper plates from the cupboard and filled two glasses with water from the tap. “What have you been doing to stay busy?” she asked while settling into the spot at the table that had always been hers.
“Caleb and I have taken up bowling. I’m thinking of joining a league.” He pretended to pick up an invisible bowling ball and hurl it down the table.
“Dad, that’s great!”
He chuckled. “I’m not any good at it, but I do have a good time.”
“And work’s good?”
“Work’s work. It’s as good as to be expected.” He’d been saving up for an early retirement so that he and her mother could travel in their old age. Instead, a lot of that money had gone to the funeral. Now that he had no urgent reason to retire, he probably wouldn’t until management forced him out.
As they ate their doubly greasy meal of burgers and pizza, her father asked all the usual questions about her work and life. Bridget had always been closer with her mother, and now that she was gone, she often had a hard time bridging the distance that had grown between her and her father over the years.
She needed to make more of an effort before it was too late, before God called him home, too.
“How about I come bowling with you and Caleb sometime?” she offered right as she was polishing off a second piece of pizza.
Her father shook his head as he wiped his lips on a thin take-out napkin. “You don’t have to do that. I know how busy you are.”
“Not too busy for my family,” she countered with a stern expression. Even though until now that hadn’t exactly been true. “Actually, I’ve been learning how to make Indian food. Maybe I can bring some over for dinner when Caleb’s back from his conference.”
“Sounds nice,” he agreed, and then they finished the rest of their meal in silence.
If her mother had been there, they’d be laughing and singing and reliving all their favorite memories from over the years. She wondered if her father felt her absence as acutely as Bridget did.
If he wasn’t only pretending to be okay.
Just like her.
Chapter 19
Bridget stayed with her father only for a couple hours. Without her brother there to serve as a conversational buffer, the two of them didn’t have much of anything to say after the initial hellos and requisite updates. The awkward quiet only served to spotlight the gaping hole right at the heart of their family.
It would be too late to join Wesley for their evening run, but perhaps she could still get a few blocks in to work off the unhealthy dinner she’d just scarfed down with gusto.
All three dogs went crazy with excitement while they climbed the stairs to Bridget’s second-floor apartment. They pulled against their leashes so hard that Bridget practically face-planted on her way up. Usually, this level of enthusiasm was reserved for when they were on the other side of the door, waiting for someone new to enter.
Rounding the hallway corner, she finally spotted the reason for their intense joy. Wesley stood with one shoulder against the wall as he waited outside her apartment door. Instead of his usual uniform of work-out shorts and a T-shirt, he wore a pair of faded jeans and a fitted navy-blue polo shirt. The dark coloring of his outfit highlighted his fair features rather than washing them out, the blue of his shirt bringing out the bright tones in his eyes.
He shoved his phone into his pocket and pushed off the wall, an enormous smile making him appear more handsome than ever before.
“Hey,” Bridget said casually. She hated to admit it, but she liked seeing him here. But why show up at her apartment and wait around all night when he had no idea where she’d gone or when she’d be back? Yes, she’d skipped their running session that night, but she’d had to beg and plead to even be included in the first place.
Had something changed between them to encourage him to wait for her? To make her happy that he had?
“Hey,” Wesley replied, his eyes searching hers as she approached, his open smile now replaced with a furrowed brow and puckered frown. “You didn’t come down tonight. Is everything okay?”
He’d worried about her? Was that because her absence had thrown off his routine or because he’d actually begun to care?
She handed him the dog leashes so she could focus on unlocking the door. “Everything’s fine. Just paid a visit to my dad.”
His face fell. “Oh. Why didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t be coming?”
“It was a last-minute decision, and we haven’t exactly exchanged numbers.” Bridget kept her words casual, light, even though she desperately wanted to ask him why he was here and find out where they stood.
She laughed at this. “Lucky for what? And why are we exchanging numbers all of a sudden? I thought you didn’t actually want me running with you, and I thought we weren’t friends.”
Wesley shifted his eyes to the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. When he looked up again, a ruddy blush had consumed half his face. “I thought that, too, but I guess I was wrong.”
“About which part?” She couldn’t help biting her lip as she waited.
“Both.” He didn’t offer anything else, only a deeper, more intense blush as he raised his eyes to meet hers. There was a question somewhere in those soft baby blues, but Bridget was too distracted by the fluttering in her chest to figure out what it might be.
She eyed him suspiciously, then sighed and motioned for him to join her inside the apartment. “You really keep a woman guessing. You know that, Wesley . . . ? Uh, I don’t even know your last name. I also don’t know what you do for work, or really anything beyond the fact that you have two dogs and you like to run.”
That’s it. Focus on the facts. No need to get lost in his eyes, especially since you don’t know what secrets they may be hiding. You know next to nothing about him, and he doesn’t know you, either. Not really. Not in any of the ways that matter.
Wesley stepped into the apartment and hovered near the doorway rather than entering fully. Bridget wondered if he might also be giving himself an internal warning—or pep talk. She also wondered what he hoped to accomplish here. What was his end goal?
He waited for her to unleash and settle the dogs, then licked his lips and said, “I’m Wesley Wright. And running and dogs are the most important things about me. But if it’s so important for you to know, I’m a short-order cook at Bailey’s.”