The Vet Visit
On Wednesday morning, Meghan dressed in a way that reflected her mood: gray T-shirt and jeans frayed at the bottom. She twisted her hair back in a hair claw and dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, but that was it. Her only thought was to get this ordeal over with as quickly as possible.
She fed Sox and filled his water bowl, then sat down at the table with nothing but a cup of black coffee. In the center of the table there was a platter of pancakes and sausages, but Meghan made no move toward them.
Lila looked at her with a disapproving frown. “Is that all you’re having?”
Meghan nodded. “I don’t have much of an appetite this morning. I’ll grab something at lunchtime.”
“Starving yourself is not going to solve anything,” Lila grumbled. “Since last Saturday you’ve barely picked at your food because of that dog! If you’re so set on having a pet, go buy one you don’t have to worry about losing.”
“Sox is special, Mama. He reminds me of—”
“I know, Clancy.” Lila took a plate from the cupboard, plopped a single pancake on it, and set it in front of Meghan. “You’re not leaving this house until you eat!”
Without bothering to pour syrup over it as she usually did, Meghan dutifully cut off a bite of pancake and stuffed it into her mouth. “If I get an all clear from Dr. Anderson, I’ll treat everybody to a celebratory lunch. How’s that?”
Lila couldn’t shake loose the thoughts of what had happened when Clancy went missing. “And what if the dog does have a chip? What if he belongs to somebody else?”
Meghan narrowed her eyes. In an embittered voice, she replied, “Then I’ll have to give him back.” Leaving most of the pancake on the plate, she pushed back from the table and clicked the leash onto Sox’s collar.
“We’ll be back in an hour or so,” she said, and hurried out the door.
The drive to the Anderson Animal Clinic was seven miles, but with morning traffic it took almost twenty minutes. By the time they arrived, the parking lot was already crowded.
Meghan could still remember the last time she was here. It was with Clancy, eight, maybe nine years ago. Dr. Walter Anderson was the family vet. He took care of both Clancy and Beulah, Lila’s cat. If bad news were coming, Dr. Anderson was the kind of man who could break it gently. He not only cared for pets but also cared about their owners.
When Meghan opened the car door, Sox jumped out and trotted toward the front of the clinic, almost as if it were a place he was familiar with.
“You act like you’ve been here before,” Meghan said.
Sox put his nose to the ground and followed a scent along the walkway.
She reined in his leash, and they entered the clinic together. Everything was exactly the same as she remembered. The row of leatherette chairs, the jar of treats on the counter—even Emily, the receptionist she’d known for years, was still there. The only difference seemed to be that Emily had gained a few pounds, and her hair was now streaked with silver.
She looked up. “Well, goodness gracious, we haven’t seen you for years.” She smiled, then came from behind the counter, hugged Meghan, and bent to pet Sox. “Now who is this cute little fellow?”
“I’m calling him Sox for now,” Meghan replied. “He’s a rescue I found at the lake. I wanted to check and see if maybe he has a microchip.”
“No problem. I know you usually see Dr. Anderson, but he’s in surgery this morning. Would it be okay if I put you in with Dr. Whitely?”
Meghan gave a reluctant nod. “Sure.”
“Have a seat. I’ll take you back as soon as there’s a room available.”
After a twenty-minute wait, Meghan and Sox were led back to one of the small examination rooms.
“Make yourself comfy,” Emily said. “Dr. Whitely will be with you shortly.”
Another five minutes ticked by before the door swung open and the most gorgeous man Meghan had ever seen stepped into the room. He was tall like her daddy, with light-brown hair that had streaks of sunlit gold running through it.
He stuck out his hand. “Good morning. I’m Dr. Tom Whitely.”
Meghan automatically extended her arm, but when they shook hands she held on to his for a time that was longer than necessary. He had bright hazel-colored eyes, the kind that captured her gaze and wouldn’t allow her to look anywhere else. She found it almost impossible to tear hers away from them.
“I’m Meghan Briggs,” she finally said, “and this, Dr. Whitely, is Sox.”
A faint smile played at his mouth when she used the formal version of his name. “Please, call me Tom.” He squatted in front of Sox and scratched behind the dog’s ear.
Tom Whitely’s touch was gentle, and Sox responded by licking his arm. The dog quite obviously liked him. So did Meghan.
As if it were expected to be a shared examination, she squatted alongside the dog. “Sox is a rescue I found at the lake. I need to know if he has a microchip with his owner’s name.”
Feeling good about the ear scratching, Sox rolled over on his back. Tom Whitely laughed, gave the dog’s belly a rub, then stood. Meghan rose when he did.
“Are you working with Dr. Anderson now?”
“For the next month I will be,” he said. “Dr. Anderson is retiring, and I’ve bought the practice.” He allowed his eyes to meet Meghan’s. “I hope I can continue to keep your business.”
Suddenly Meghan regretted she hadn’t taken more time with her makeup or worn something with an edgier look. Designer jeans maybe, or boots and her short black skirt with a top more colorful than the faded gray T-shirt.
“Of course you will,” she said. “Definitely.” Sputtering and trying to pull her thoughts together, she casually swished back a curl that had fallen loose of the clip, then added, “I can see Sox already likes you. And you seem to have a wonderful way with animals.”
He smiled, and there was a certain shyness in the smile that made it all the more appealing. Lifting Sox onto the examination table, he pulled a small handheld scanner from the drawer.
“Okay, now, let’s see what we have here.”
When he turned the scanner on and began sliding it along Sox’s back, Meghan’s heart stopped beating. It didn’t start up again until he looked at her and said, “Sorry.”
“For what?” she asked nervously.
“I can’t help you. There’s nothing here. Sox doesn’t have a chip.”
He’d heard the fearfulness woven through her words and mistakenly believed it was because she couldn’t locate the owner. “If you want, I can give you the address of a shelter where you can drop him off.”
Meghan gasped. “Drop him off? Why would I do that?” She explained how Clancy had gone missing, and they’d searched for months without finding him.
“As much as I wanted to keep Sox, I felt if he had an owner, I needed to try to find him or her,” she said, then went on to explain she’d called the police department and the ASPCA and run an ad in the Snip ’N’ Save.
“So far no one has come forward to claim him.”
Tom Whitely looked at her with that smile. The one she’d liked from the first moment she saw it; the one where the glimmer in his eyes was a giveaway of his thoughts.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve done everything there is to do. I think you can safely consider him yours.”
A warm flood of happiness rushed through Meghan, and, without stopping to think, she flung her arms around Tom’s neck and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you!” she said. “A million times over!”
He made no move to step back but stood there with a silly-looking grin stretched across his face. Meghan moved on to hugging the dog.
He watched for a moment, then said, “If you’re planning on keeping Sox, you might want to bring him in for a checkup. He’s probably going to need a rabies shot and vaccinations.”
“Sure. Absolutely. Can you do it right now?”
“We’re booked solid today,” he said. “Could you possibly come back on Friday at five thirty or six?”
Tom’s voice was a bit tentative as he spoke. He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. He wanted to see her again, and having her bring the dog back was the best way to do it. With her as the last visitor on a Friday evening, he could spend plenty of time with the dog and get to know his mistress, maybe even go for a cup of coffee afterward.
“Sure,” Meghan said. “That time works well for me.”
“Okay, it’s a date.” The words slipped out before he had time to rethink them, and as they reached his ears he realized the implication. He gave an embarrassed chuckle.
“I didn’t mean date like date; I meant appointment. You know, veterinary consultation.”
Meghan laughed. “Of course.”
“Oh. Okay, then, I’ll see you on Friday.”
He didn’t turn and disappear out the back door as Dr. Anderson usually did. He just stood there with that goofy grin while he watched her clip the leash onto Sox’s collar and retrieve the keys from her bag.
As she started toward the reception area, Meghan glanced back and gave him one last smile. It wasn’t until she got to the parking lot that she realized he’d given her that time without checking his appointment book.
Hmm.
She stopped for a moment and eyed the sign on the building: OFFICE HOURS 9:00 A.M. TO 5:30 P.M., MONDAY–FRIDAY. A grin, similar to the one Dr. Tom Whitely had been wearing, settled on her face.
Apparently he liked her as much as she liked him.