ETHAN STARED AT the closed door in frustration and disbelief.
Walk? Walk where? It was snowing outside and the temperature was dropping. Not to mention the fact that they’d been in the middle of a conversation about how to handle the dog.
The dog.
It occurred to him that a stranger had just walked out of his apartment with his sister’s beloved pet.
“Dammit.” He ran his hand over his face. What was he supposed to do now?
She’d taken the dog. His sister’s dog, who was his responsibility. And by the look on her face, she wasn’t intending to return in a hurry. Maybe not at all.
Why had she run out like that?
Guilt flashed through him and he ran through the conversation in his mind.
He’d walked through the door, seen the mess and—
Yelled.
He winced, hit by a stab of regret and remorse. He’d definitely yelled.
And something about her had changed when he’d done that.
She’d been tense and defensive and then she’d stammered.
He thought back, remembering the look of dismay on her face.
At the time he hadn’t thought anything of it, mostly because he’d been too focused on his own emotions. He’d registered the disfluency in her speech, but ignored it.
Now he remembered the flash of panic and mortification in her eyes, as if something dire and desperate had happened.
Her appalled reaction told him this was something she fought against. He’d dated a speech-language pathologist for a while when he was an intern, and he remembered her telling him that stressful situations could sometimes trigger a relapse in people who generally had the condition under control.
What if he’d caused the stressful situation?
What if Harriet Knight didn’t normally stammer?
He probably shouldn’t have yelled at her, but he’d had a seriously bad day and returning to find his apartment looking like the inside of a garbage disposal unit hadn’t helped. Surely she could see that?
And he hadn’t been yelling at her exactly. He’d been yelling generally.
His attempt to justify his behavior had no impact on his guilt levels because the truth was none of it was her fault.
He was about to work out whether he should go after them or not, when his phone rang.
He saw from the caller display that it was his sister in California.
Great.
Perfect timing.
His concern for his niece eclipsing his worry about the dog, Ethan answered the phone.
He was relieved when Debra told him everything was going smoothly.
“Good.”
“How about you? How is Madi? Has she been good today? Is she settling in?”
Ethan looked round his wrecked apartment. Neither his sister nor his niece needed anything else to be anxious about. And he certainly didn’t dare confess that right now he didn’t even know where their precious dog was. He had to hope Harriet returned with her. If she didn’t—well, he’d worry about that when it happened. “She seems to be settling fine.”
“And Harriet showed up on time? Well, of course she did. I don’t know why I’m even asking that. Harriet is the most reliable person on the planet. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Ethan thought of the way she’d scolded him for upsetting the dog. “Charming.”
“I knew you’d like her. I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me before but she’d be perfect for you.”
“What?! Debs—”
“Just trying to turbo boost your romantic life.”
“My romantic life is fine, thanks.”
“No, your sex life is fine. Your romantic life is dead.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “I draw the line at talking about sex with my sister. And I have all the romance I want, or need.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You were married. Been there, tried that, yada yada. But just because you and Alison ended up on the rocks doesn’t mean you can’t try again. I don’t know Harriet that well but I love what I know and I would have said you’re exactly her type.”
Ethan doubted Harriet would agree.
He’d never met a woman more eager to get away from him.
The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he was the reason she’d fled the apartment in such a hurry.
The odd thing was that she seemed familiar, and yet for the life of him he couldn’t think why. He didn’t own a dog, and he wasn’t the type of guy who forgot the women he dated. Could she be a friend of a friend? Someone he’d met in a group?
He asked a few more questions about his niece, ended the call and poured himself a whiskey. He drank it neat, but it did nothing to salve his conscience.
He had a right to be annoyed, but he didn’t have a right to make her the target of his frustration.
Since when had he been a bully?
To work off his tension, he grabbed two large garbage bags and started cleaning the apartment. He tried to look on the positive side. At least the dog didn’t seem to have bathroom issues. There was no water damage. Nothing lasting. The dog—he had to remember to call it Madi. Madi Madi—hadn’t peed.
But what if tomorrow she did?
What if tomorrow she took her boredom out on his sofa? And if she carried on howling it would make him unpopular with his neighbors. He didn’t have time to deal with aggravation in his private life. Hopefully Harriet would return with the dog, but even if she did the problem wouldn’t be solved. There was tomorrow to think about. And the next day.
He took his frustrations out on the cleaning and didn’t stop until the place was shining. No one would have guessed a dog had ever entered his apartment.
He’d cleared up the last of the mess when the doorman called up to tell him Harriet was downstairs.
Despite the fact that he was about to let the perpetrator of the mess back into his apartment, Ethan felt nothing but relief.
She’d returned with the dog and saved him difficult explanations and more stress.
He opened the door and Harriet walked straight past him, keeping her head down.
Ethan closed the door carefully, knowing he had a situation far more complicated to unravel than the one with Mrs. Crouch.
What was the best approach? Should he raise the fact that she’d stammered? Should he apologize or would that embarrass her more? No, it was probably better to pretend he hadn’t noticed. He’d keep his apology general.
“I apologize for shouting. Not that it’s an excuse, but I had a difficult day.”
Finally she looked at him, and her eyes were accusatory and angry. “So did Madi.”
He tried again. “I meant that my day was difficult before I arrived home. I work in the emergency room. I lost a patient.” The moments the word left his lips, he regretted them. Why had he said that? Death was part of his job. He dealt with it in his own way, and his way never involved sharing his feelings with other people. What was he hoping for? Sympathy? Or was he simply offering up an excuse for his behavior, hoping for forgiveness.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She unclipped Madi’s lead and eased her out of her coat. Her gaze was a little less fierce. “That must be difficult to handle. I guess every day is difficult for you.”
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not an excuse.”
“I would think it would be almost impossible to forget it. And I don’t see it as an excuse. It’s an explanation and I’m grateful for it.” She removed Madi’s coat and then sat on the floor, opened the backpack she was carrying and carefully cleaned the dog’s paws.
Ethan felt more and more guilty. “I appreciate the effort you’re taking, but you don’t have to do that. Turns out I’m pretty good at cleaning up.”
“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for her. The snow is bad for the dog. They use salt and other de-icers and it irritates their paws.”
Ethan, who rarely felt out of his depth, felt totally at a loss. “I never knew that.”
She glanced at him briefly. “It seems there’s a lot you don’t know about dogs, Dr. Black.”
“Ethan. You clean the paws of every dog you walk?”
“If I think it’s necessary, yes.” She dealt with the final paw, taking her time, meticulous and careful. “Just as you probably take the blood pressure of every patient you see, if you think it’s necessary.”
She was telling him that what she did was important too.
He got the message.
“So why do you think Madi—” he emphasized the name, hoping to earn his way back into her favor “—tried to destroy my home?”
“I don’t think she was trying to destroy your home. I think she was expressing boredom. Or fear.” Having dried and checked the last of Madi’s paws, she stood up. “Spaniels are an active breed, and they crave companionship. They need to be well trained. Behavioral problems are not uncommon. What we have to do is evaluate the cause of the behavior. She’s in an unfamiliar environment. I suspect that’s all it is.”
All?
Ethan thought back to the carnage he’d witnessed. He opened his mouth to suggest she might be minimizing the problem and then closed it again. “So what do you suggest?”
“She needs to be shown patience and kindness and then she’ll be fine.”
“That’s it? Are you sure? What if you’re wrong?”
Her eyes narrowed. “When I came to the ER the other night, I didn’t question your professional opinion, Dr. Black. You told me I didn’t need an X-ray. I accepted your judgment.”
When I came to the ER…
That was where he’d seen her before. Of course. The girl with the injured ankle. And she was right. She hadn’t questioned his opinion.
He felt thoroughly put in his place. And he noticed that she was no longer stammering. Nor did she seem afraid or intimidated.
“I remember now. That explains why you look familiar. How is your ankle?”
“It’s improving, but I did as you instructed.” She said it pointedly and he took the point.
“So what, in your professional opinion, am I going to do with this dog to settle her down? How do I care for her?”
“You can’t care for her. It wouldn’t be fair.”
Ethan breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you appreciate that. It’s more than my sister did. I have a busy, responsible job and it certainly isn’t fair on me to expect—”
“I was talking about Madi.” Her gaze was steady on his. “It isn’t fair on Madi to be with someone so unsympathetic and ignorant of her needs. And I can’t teach you. You don’t have the patience for it.”
Ethan was taken aback. “I work in the emergency room. I have more patience—and patients—than you can possibly imagine.”
“The difference is that your patients matter to you,” she said. “I don’t believe Madi matters. I think you agreed to do this because you love your sister, but loving your sister is not enough. You have to love Madi too, not just tolerate her. Dogs have an instinct for how someone is feeling. Let’s be honest, Dr. Black, you’re not a dog person.”
“What does ‘not a dog person’ look like?”
“They look pretty much like you. They keep their distance from the animal, sometimes it’s because they’re afraid—”
“I’m not afraid of dogs.” She thought he was a coward?
“—and sometimes it’s because people simply don’t like dogs, which is perfectly fine with me—” her tone suggested it wasn’t fine with her at all “—as long as they don’t try and care for a dog. You have a dog to care for, and the only solution I can come up with is that I will take Madi with me.”
“Take her? Take her where?”
“Home. I’ll call a cab and I can take Madi and all her food and belongings over to my apartment.”
“I can’t let you do that. I don’t even know you.”
“Madi knows me.” Offering her support to that statement, Madi pressed close to Harriet, licking her face adoringly.
Ethan tried not to think about all the potential pathogens she was spreading. “Are you allowed pets in your apartment?”
“I would never live anywhere that wouldn’t let me keep a dog. I often foster animals for the animal shelter.”
And now she wanted to take Madi. She was offering to remove his problem.
He was sorely tempted to let her do exactly that, but then he remembered his promise to his sister.
He thought about Karen, lying in hospital anxious about her dog.
“I can’t let you do that.”
“You don’t have a choice, Dr. Black, because I’m not leaving Madi here with you.”
Had Debra really said Harriet was gentle and mild?
Clearly she didn’t know her well.
He breathed deeply. “Can we start this again? I had a long day. A difficult day. I returned home to mayhem. I’ve needed an adjustment period, that’s true, and it’s also true that I have almost no experience caring for animals, but this dog is precious to my sister and my niece and I will do whatever it takes to make her happy while she’s staying with me.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. “But I’m going to need you to help me because, as you rightly say, I know nothing about dogs. And before you think that disqualifies me from caring for her, I should emphasize that I’m a quick learner.”
“I don’t think it’s in Madi’s best interests to stay here.” She stared at him for a long time and he sensed she was trying to read him.
“Look—have you eaten?”
“Excuse me?”
“Have you had dinner? It’s late. I’m hungry and I worked right through without lunch. My job doesn’t leave much time for food or bathroom breaks. You might as well join me and we can talk this through. I need to convince you I can be a good temporary home for Madi, but I can’t do that while you’re sitting there covered in snow glaring at me as if I’m an axe murderer. So let’s have dinner.” Why was she still staring at him? And why did she look so horrified? “I’m hungry. You must be too.”
There was a pause.
“I—I don’t think that’s a g-g-g—” She broke off, visibly dismayed.
He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t a big deal. He almost finished her sentence but then remembered his old girlfriend telling him it was the worst thing you could do for someone who stammered.
So he stayed silent and waited. Listened.
When it came to clearing up the mess left by a dog he’d lost his cool, but with this he had endless patience.
There was a tense silence.
Still he waited. He saw her throat move as she swallowed. Saw her draw in a breath and brace herself to try again, like a swimmer about to plunge into deep water that had already tried to drown her once.
“—sensible.” She changed the word and it came out smoothly, but he didn’t see relief in her eyes. He saw embarrassment.
“I’ve made you nervous because I barked at you.” He wondered whether to be blunt or tactful. He went with blunt. “You stammered, and I’m guessing that was because of me.” The deepening color in her cheeks told him he was right. “You mostly have it under control, is that right? And then I walked in here with my big mouth and my insensitive ways and it came back.”
There was a pause and for a moment he thought she wasn’t going to reply.
“Y-yes.”
Knowing that made him feel almost as bad as she did.
“Why? What is it about me that triggered it?”
“You were angry. I’m not g-g-g—” She stopped, frustration in her eyes.
He could feel her agony. He witnessed people’s agony daily, but witnessing it and being the cause of it were two different things. This time he was feeling it with her and it was a profoundly uncomfortable experience. Clearly he wasn’t as emotionally numbed as he’d thought. He had his usual urge to fix it, but this time he wasn’t dealing with blood or broken bones. He’d inflicted damage for which there was no easy fix.
She took another couple of breaths and tried again. “Angry people upset me.” She stooped to pick up her bag, stuffing everything back inside. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters, and not just because you’re going to be helping me with Madi. We’re going to figure this out.”
“I c-c-c—” She closed her eyes briefly. “Can’t work with you.”
He felt a flash of concern.
If Harriet refused to help him then he was in serious trouble.
“I handled the situation badly. I’m sorry and I want us to start again. You weren’t mad with Madi when she destroyed my apartment. You understood that there was something going on underneath. That she was upset.” On impulse, he dropped into a crouch and held out his hand to Madi. “Come here, girl.”
The dog looked at him warily and he couldn’t exactly blame her.
Obviously deciding his contrition was genuine, she trotted across to him.
He stroked his hand over her head, feeling silken fur under his palm. “Good girl. Lovely girl. Most beautiful dog in the world.” Madi sat down and looked at him. Ethan looked at Harriet. “If she’s ready to give me another chance, surely you can too?”
Harriet straightened and slid her bag onto her shoulder. “That’s a low trick, Dr.—”
“Ethan.” He said it softly. “My name is Ethan. And it’s not a trick. Stay for dinner. Dinner and one conversation. That’s all I’m asking.”