Wounded Souls

by R J Nolan

  They watched in silence as Mark left. Dale searched for something—anything—to say.

  The door next to the check-in desk opened, and a woman wearing a white lab coat over a set of scrubs stepped out. She glanced around until her gaze settled on them. “Dr. Logan?”

  Logan stood. “Yes. I’m Dr. Logan, Drake’s owner.”

  The doctor shook hands with Logan. “I’m Dr. Bader. I’ve been overseeing Drake’s care.”

  Dale moved to stand next to Logan. She wanted to be close-by, no matter what the news.

  “How is he?”

  The tremor in her voice made Dale want to reach out to Logan, but she resisted. Please let him be okay.

  “First off, he’s stable. There was no torsion of the stomach.”

  Logan’s breath burst from her as if she had been holding it, and she swayed. Dale put her hand on Logan’s lower back to steady her.

  “Would you like to come into the back and see him?”

  Logan nodded.

  “Okay. Then I’ll explain everything I’ve found and where we need to go from here.”

  Dale was torn. Should she stay here or accompany Logan into the treatment area? Logan glanced her way, and the wounded look in her eyes made Dale’s decision easy.

  Dr. Bader held open the door for Logan. When Dale made to accompany her, the doctor asked, “And you are?”

  “I’m Dr. Parker. I’m…” What was she to Logan?

  “We work together in the ER,” Logan said. She met Dale’s gaze for a moment, then turned back to Dr. Bader. “She’s my friend.”

  Despite the circumstances, warmth suffused Dale at Logan’s words.

  “Right this way,” Dr. Bader said.

  Dale smiled at Logan and stepped through the door to join her in the hallway. They followed Dr. Bader into a large area filled with equipment.

  Except for the dogs and cats on the exam tables, the area could have easily passed for one of the treatment rooms at LA Metro. Scrub-suited personnel bustled about attending to the animals.

  Dr. Bader led them to a back corner of the room away from the main traffic area.

  A technician was kneeling on the floor; her body blocked the view of the animal she was attending. An IV bag hung from a hook mounted on the wall near her.

  When the technician stood, Dale couldn’t hold back a gasp as she got her first look at the huge, dark-gray dog lying on a padded mat. An IV line disappeared beneath the blanket covering him.

  Dr. Bader turned, tilting her head to peer at Dale questioningly.

  Logan was oblivious to her reaction. She let out a muted cry, dropping to her knees next to Drake. She buried her face against his thick neck, and her shoulders started to shake.

  Dale longed to comfort her but held herself back. Her own eyes stung with repressed tears at witnessing Logan’s pain. She glanced at Dr. Bader, surprised to find her face impassive as she watched Logan. She’s an ER doctor just like you, she reminded herself. Neither of them could allow their emotions to get the best of them while at work.

  It took several minutes before Logan regained control of herself. Finally, she lifted up onto her knees and swiped at her tear-streaked face.

  Dr. Bader pulled a packet of tissues out of her pocket and offered them to Logan without a word.

  Logan wiped her face and then, cautious of his IV line, settled down next to Drake’s head, propping her back against the wall. The big dog lifted his head and put it into her lap. His tail thumped weakly against the mat. A watery smile lit her face, and she leaned down and kissed his head. “That’s my good boy.”

  Dale leaned against the counter nearby, close enough to be supportive if Logan needed her but otherwise out of the way.

  Dr. Bader settled onto the floor in front of Drake and Logan. “Okay. Here’s where we stand. As I said before, there was no torsion. However, he did bloat. I was able to tube him without incident and decompress and empty his stomach.” She lifted up the blanket to display electrodes attached to Drake’s chest and the IV line in one front leg. “He had a couple of short runs of PVCs when he first came in but none since decompressing his stomach. I’m giving him antibiotics and pain medication in his IV.”

  “So he’s going to be okay. He just needs a little time to recover—right?”

  Dale’s heart went out to Logan. Her tone was equal parts hopeful and pleading for assurance. Dr. Bader’s face remained unreadable. She had a bad feeling there was more to come. Otherwise, why hadn’t Dr. Bader told Logan all this in the waiting room?

  “I wish that were the case,” Dr. Bader said.

  Logan’s hands clutched at Drake as if she was trying to shield him from whatever was coming. “What do you mean?”

  “The good news is, we tested his lactic acid level, and it was only elevated by half a point above normal. That means the likelihood that his stomach or other organs suffered any damage is small. The staff at Canine Haven really should be commended. The fact that they got him here so quickly saved his life. It would have been very easy to pass his symptoms off as distress and lethargy caused by an upset stomach. As I’m sure you know, in cases like this, even an hour delay can be the difference between life and death.”

  Fresh tears sparkling in her eyes, Logan swallowed heavily, then rested her forehead against Drake’s. After a moment she took a deep breath, looked up, and visibly squared her shoulders. “So what’s the bad news?”

  “Once a dog bloats, the possibility that it will happen again rises. Not only that, but the chance of accompanying torsion of the stomach also rises. For that reason, Drake needs a gastropexy performed. That way, with the stomach attached to the abdominal wall, should he bloat again, the stomach would not be able to rotate.”

  “When do you want to do the surgery?”

  “The sooner the better. At this point, I feel he’s stable. And, in spite of his age, that he can tolerate the surgery.”

  Her jaw tightly clenched, Logan repeatedly stroked her hand across Drake’s white-peppered face. Dale wondered how old he was. Would he really be able to tolerate the surgery?

  “All right.” Logan nodded as if convincing herself. “All right. Do the surgery.”

  Dr. Bader rose from the floor. “I’ll have the front desk write up an estimate and get the consent forms ready. They’ll bring them to you out front.”

  Logan reluctantly lifted Drake’s head out of her lap. The big dog whimpered. “It’s okay, buddy. Dr. Bader is going to take good care of you.” She stroked her hands all over his body and kissed his face before standing. “I’ll see you soon.” Her voice cracked.

  Dale pushed off the wall and approached Logan. She wrapped her arm around Logan’s shoulders. “He’s going to be okay.” She hoped she wasn’t offering false comfort.

  Logan nodded, her eyes brimming with tears. She glanced repeatedly over her shoulder as Dr. Bader led them out of the treatment area.

  When they reached the door to the lobby, Dr. Bader said, “After you finish with the paperwork, go home and get some rest. I’ll call and update you as soon as I finish the surgery.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Logan said, sounding like herself for the first time since this ordeal had started.

  Dr. Bader began to protest, but Logan warned her off with a gesture and a shake of her head.

  “All right. I’ll let you know as soon as the surgery is finished. But be aware, it’s going to be a while. Several hours—at least.”

  “I’ll be here.” Logan crossed the lobby and plopped down on a padded bench that stretched across the far wall of the lobby.

  Logan slumped forward, planting her elbows on her thighs, and buried her face in her hands. What a nightmare. While she had originally taken Drake out of a sense of obligation to her sister, she had grown to love him dearly, and the thought of losing him, especially now, so close to the anniversary of Em
ily’s death, was tearing her up inside.

  Dale joined her on the bench. She laid her hand on Logan’s back and stroked soothingly up and down, offering silent support.

  For the first time since her sister’s death, Logan allowed herself to take comfort from another human being. She didn’t know what she would have done without Dale’s rock-solid presence. Sighing to herself, she finally acknowledged that regardless of all her rationalizations, she had come back to LA Metro because of Dale. Although she was loath to admit it, even prior to today, she had felt a connection to her. Now, Dale’s staunch support in this time of need had broken through the protective barriers she had erected around herself after Emily’s passing.

  She lifted her head and met Dale’s gaze. Her gray eyes, darkened to the color of a storm-tossed sky, shone with compassion. Logan’s throat closed, and tears threatened to overflow. “Thank you for being here.”

  “I wish there was more I could do,” Dale said. She rhythmically rubbed her own left knee without seeming to be aware of it.

  Logan wondered if there was a limit to how long Dale could wear her prosthesis. Was it hurting her? It had been a long, busy shift, and she had mentioned being tired before all this happened. As much as she took comfort from her presence, Dale taking care of herself was more important.

  Straightening up, she tried to appear as composed and upbeat as possible. “Thanks again for everything. There’s no need for you to stay. I’ll call a cab when I’m ready to leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Dale said, repeating Logan’s earlier words. Her tone left no room for argument.

  Relief flooded Logan. “Thank you.” She gripped Dale’s hand.

  Dale entwined their fingers as they settled in to wait.

  Only a few minutes had passed when Dale’s stomach growled loudly. She pressed her free hand to her belly.

  Logan let go of Dale’s hand, immediately missing the warmth of her palm. “Go get something to eat. I’ll be fine here.”

  “No. I’m all right.” Dale’s stomach rumbled, giving lie to her words. A blush painted her cheeks.

  “Dale.”

  “Logan,” Dale said with the same tone.

  Smiling despite her frustration, Logan shook her head. Damn stubborn woman. “You need to eat.”

  “So do you. I’ll tell you what. I’ll go get us something to eat and bring it back.”

  Logan didn’t think her queasy stomach would tolerate anything, but as long as it got Dale to eat, that was all that mattered. “Sure. Good idea.”

  Dale eyed her as if suspicious of her sudden agreement.

  “Go.”

  Dale pushed off the bench and stood. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Go.”

  “I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

  Logan watched her walk across the lobby. Her worry returned when she detected a slight limp in Dale’s gait that normally wasn’t there. You should make her go home. Before she could act on the thought, Dale was already out the door. She shifted on the uncomfortable bench and settled down to wait.

  Dale slipped behind the wheel of her Jeep and took a moment to rub her aching leg. As frequently happened after long hours wearing her prosthesis, her residual limb had changed size, making her socket fit uncomfortable. If she was going to last for however many hours it would be before Drake was out of surgery, she needed to take care of her leg.

  Heading down the main street where the animal hospital was located, she spotted a big box store. Perfect. She picked the far corner of the giant parking lot, near a stand of trees, as far away from the store as she could get. While she could do what she needed to in a restaurant’s handicapped restroom, she preferred the privacy of her vehicle. She got out of her vehicle, opened the driver’s side rear door, and climbed into the backseat. She leaned over and grabbed from behind it a small, military-style medical kit. Only this bag didn’t hold standard medical supplies but rather everything she needed to take care of her prosthetic and residual limb. Thankfully, she had worn cargo pants today instead of her usual jeans.

  She pulled up her pant leg well above her knee. After pressing the button to release the prosthesis, she let out a big sigh as the leg slid off. Anxious to get back to Logan, she didn’t waste any time. She stripped off the damp stump sock and rolled down the liner. She didn’t dare remove it completely for fear she wouldn’t be able to get it back on. After cleaning and drying the exposed stump, then treating any rub spots, she slid the liner back up and put on a dry stump sock over it. It took her two tries to get the thickness of the stump sock right and the fit in the socket as comfortable as possible. With all the stress her leg had taken last night and then the extra hours today without relief, it was a good thing she had tonight off. Otherwise, it would have meant a miserable shift.

  Now to get them something to eat and get back to Logan as soon as possible.

  Twenty minutes later, Dale pulled open the door to the animal hospital. She had chosen fast food for expediency’s sake. Hopefully, Logan’s stomach could tolerate an egg breakfast biscuit. As she stepped into the lobby, her gaze went to the back corner, where Logan had been sitting.

  She wasn’t there.

  Her heart rate escalating, Dale scanned the room. No Logan. Damn it. She had only been gone forty-five minutes. Had something happened during surgery? She bolted for the front desk. Just as she reached it, a door off to the side opened, and Logan stepped out. Relief weakened her knees when she realized it was a restroom. “Everything okay?”

  “He’s still in surgery, but one of the techs checked a few minutes ago. So far, so good.”

  “That’s great.” She clasped Logan’s arm. “Come have a bite to eat.”

  Logan followed her back to their spot in the far corner. She shook her head when Dale offered her a wrapped biscuit.

  “You’re not going to be able to help Drake if you make yourself sick by not eating. He needs you to be strong.”

  Logan scowled but took the breakfast sandwich.

  Dale kept an eye on Logan as she ate her own meal. While Logan only nibbled at the biscuit, Dale gave her points for trying.

  After they finished, Dale gathered up the remains of their meal and tossed it into a nearby trash can. She returned to Logan and once again joined her on the padded bench. When Logan slipped her hand into Dale’s, she sighed and entwined their fingers.

  In silent companionship, they waited.

  Logan’s hand gripping hers painfully tight brought Dale to full awareness. Her eyes popped open. Unsure of how much time had passed, she cursed herself when she realized she must have dozed off. Some friend you are.

  Dr. Bader, still in her surgical cap and sweat-stained scrubs, strode toward them.

  Logan bolted from the bench. Dale hustled after her. They met Dr. Bader halfway.

  “He’s out of surgery.”

  Tension radiated from Logan.

  Get on with it, Dale silently urged the doctor.

  “He came through with flying colors. Vitals were solid as a rock during the whole procedure. I confirmed there was no torsion and no visible damage to his stomach.” Dr. Bader smiled.

  Logan whirled around and threw herself into Dale’s arms.

  Dale wrapped her in a tight hug. Suppressed tears stung her eyes.

  Logan stepped back, but Dale couldn’t bring herself to let her go completely. She kept one arm around her waist.

  “When can we see him?”

  “Not for another hour—at least,” Dr. Bader said.

  “We’ll be here,” Logan said.

  Dale smiled at her and squeezed her waist. “Yes. We’ll be here.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Yawning, Dale pulled the covers up over her shoulders. Pale moonlight shone through the partially open blinds, throwing a slatted pattern across the bed. She was still tired, but her brain insisted
it was time to be up and about. While it was nine in the evening and most people’s day was winding down, hers was normally in full swing by now. It didn’t matter that it was her day off and that she had only slept five hours. After over a year working nights, she had successfully switched her circadian rhythm.

  Knowing she would not be able to go back to sleep, she threw back the covers and sat up. She grabbed her forearm crutches from where they rested against the nightstand and stood, then padded into the bathroom.

  The rubber tips of the crutches squeaked on the hardwood floor as she made her way into the kitchen. She peered into the refrigerator; although it was well stocked, nothing appealed to her. Her thoughts strayed to Logan.

  Seeing Drake after his surgery, unable to lift his head and barely responsive, had clearly devastated Logan. On the ride back to LA Metro so Logan could pick up her SUV, she had retreated into herself. The pain in Logan’s red-rimmed eyes had made Dale want to invite Logan to her apartment instead of leaving her to suffer alone. But her own protective instincts had kicked in before she could make the offer.

  Gazing down at the empty space where her lower leg and foot should be, she tightened her grip on her crutches. There was no way she would allow Logan to see her like this.

  She flopped down on the couch, unable to shake her worry about Logan. Should she call her? After all the stress of the day, maybe she was sleeping. But the thought of Logan sitting in her motor home alone nagged at her. Grabbing her crutches, she headed back into the bedroom, where she sat on the side of the bed and scrolled through her contact list. When she reached Logan’s name, she thumbed the screen to connect the call. The line rang.

  The sound echoed from somewhere in her apartment.

  Huh? After tucking the phone against her shoulder, she levered herself up and padded into the living room.

  Ringing was coming from her jacket, which was draped over the back of a dining room chair.

  When she disconnected the call, the ringing from her jacket fell silent. She stuck her hand in the pocket and pulled out Logan’s phone. What the heck? Then she remembered. When Logan had gotten the call about Drake, she had almost dropped her phone. Dale had grabbed it and must have inadvertently stuck it in her own pocket.