Chapter 22

Your mother didn’t spend nine months with you on the inside just to deal with your bullshit on the outside.

-Lark to Baylor

Lark

“It purely amazes me that you’ve never done this before,” the vet tech, Marissa, said. “I can’t believe that you’re so good at this. And they trust you when you do it.”

I shrugged. “I used to be a phlebotomist. It’s fun…but this is actually a lot more rewarding.”

“And it’s acceptable for the patient to lick you after you’re done.”

I started to laugh at Dr. Castleberry.

Dr. Castleberry was a balding man who looked like my great, great grandfather.

He told me when I’d first started a week ago that he wasn’t a ‘day over seventy plus fifteen years because that’s what war does to you.’

I didn’t know if he meant actual war or not, but I wouldn’t put it past him. He looked the type. Oh, and barked orders like he was used to having them obeyed.

“I like you, Lark,” Dr. Castleberry said. “Can you go full-time?”

Before I could reply, a woman came in, frantically crying, with a dog in her arms.

“Dr. Castleberry!”

I frowned at seeing Krisney so frantic. Normally she was so fun…though I had a feeling that was an act.

Then I saw the dog in her arms, who was bleeding down the front of her shirt.

Dr. Castleberry abruptly turned into business mode, walking forward and bypassing everyone in the waiting room for Krisney.

Krisney held the dog out, and I saw that the dog was a schnauzer of some sort. Maybe a mix. He was also pretty mangled and looked like he’d gone a round or two with a big dog.

“What happened?” the old doc asked.

Krisney went to wipe her eyes but stopped when she saw the blood on her hands.

“The property I just bought has a bunch of old game traps on it. On our walk today, Pepé stepped on one.” She sniffled. “I had to use a stick to get him out, but he struggled.”

My stomach dropped.

“Got it,” the old doc barked. “Marissa. OR one. Now.”

With that, the two left, taking the still bleeding dog with them.

I walked over to the counter and grabbed a bunch of paper towels that were normally stored there for the unfortunate accidents that puppies normally had. This was the first time cleaning up blood, though.

Once I had it all cleaned up, I gestured to Krisney.

“Come back here and let’s get your hands washed up.” I snapped my fingers at her.

Krisney swallowed and nodded, her eyes going to the bloody paper towels in my hand.

“Okay.”

“Tell me about Pepé,” I said, trying to get her mind out of whatever hell she’d put it in.

“Pepé. Pepé Le Pew.” She sniffled and walked to the large basin that we normally used to bathe dogs in and started washing her hands. “I got him when I was with Reed. Actually, Reed and I…err…I adopted him from the animal shelter. He was the cutest little thing. He’s gone everywhere with me. Seen the world with me. He’s my constant companion.” She wiped her eyes, then turned an imploring look toward me. “I can’t do it without him.”

I studied my friend—it was new, and I wasn’t a good friend all the time—but I felt for her.

“Do you want me to call Hennessy?”

Krisney acted like I hadn’t said a word.

“I’m all alone,” Krisney whispered painfully.

I ran my hand down her arm. “I’ll go check on him. Bring you an update, okay?”

She didn’t acknowledge that I’d said a word. She was locked in her own head and staring blankly at the water as it swirled down the sink.

My gut clenched even tighter.

I knew that feeling—being alone.

I’d felt it every day after I’d married Sal. Baylor was slowly eliminating that feeling from my life.

I knew what it felt like, how bad it hurt.

And I saw that same hurt in my friend’s eyes.

Vowing then and there to be a better friend, I hurried toward the doors of OR one and pushed through.

The first thing I heard made me wince.

“Marissa, dear. I need you to hold the pup down, or I can’t get the IV started.” Dr. Castleberry was scolding the woman that’d just been telling me I was so good with the animals.

Marissa tried, but every time the dog cried out, she cried, too.

“I can’t,” Marissa apologized, letting go.

I stepped in, placed my hands down on the dog, and held him in place.

The blood on my hands was hot and thick, and I closed my eyes as I pressed down even harder.

The dog yelped, making me feel like a complete asshole.

But less than a minute after I first put my hands on him, the dog’s struggles weakened before there was nothing left but his ragged breaths.

“There,” Dr. Castleberry said. “Marissa, go inform Pepé’s owner that we’re starting.”

Marissa, dismissed, walked away and didn’t look back.

“Go put gloves on, dear,” Dr. Castleberry ordered.

I did after washing my hands, and walked back up to the table, waiting for his next request.

We worked in silence for a while. Long enough that I wasn’t expecting the question that came out of his mouth.

“And you got married?”

I smiled at that. “I did. Three days ago.”

“That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you,” Dr. Castleberry said. “Would you like me to give you a few days off for a honeymoon?”

I shook my head. “We’re going on one, but it’s going to be next year sometime.”

“Kind of quick, wasn’t it?”

I frowned. “I guess you could say that. But Baylor and me? We’re like two kindred souls. It’s easy when you find someone that is the second half of your soul—the person who gets you like no one else gets you. I may not have known the man long, Dr. Castleberry, but I’ve known him long enough to know that I love him. That I can’t see myself without him. That I don’t want to wake up in the morning without him at my side.”

He started to chuckle. “I met my wife, Meredith, when I was still in the Marines. She waited for me to get back, and by that time I was a completely different person. But she didn’t care. She was happy to have just me, and she helped me get better. If you don’t count the long separation while I was fighting in a war, we’d known each other all of two weeks before we tied the knot.” He mused, looking at me over his glasses. “Best decision I ever made.”

I smiled warmly at him. “Was it?”

He nodded. “She gave me three strapping boys. Those strapping boys gave me nine strapping grandsons. My Meredith died six years ago.”

My heart hurt for him.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

His eyes lit with an inner light. “It hurts, but I can deal. One day, we’ll be together again.”

He looked down at the dog then and nodded his head. “Good. You ready to start?”

“What are you going to do for him?” I worried.

“I’m hopefully going to fix his leg…but I don’t think it’s going to help. He lost a lot of blood, and this ol’ pup is well into his thirteenth year. Even if he does make it through surgery, I don’t think he’ll last long. He doesn’t have that much fight left in him.”

My heart broke for my friend.

As he worked, and I helped by handing him anything he needed, or offering suction when he needed it, we talked.

Eventually, we came to the subject I’d been curious about for a while.

Missing dogs.

“Have there been any reports of missing dogs?”

I was so curious.

“There was a mention of one. A security business that’s just outside of the city. But they were actually kind of thankful. The dog was a military dog. They got him after applying to adopt. They got him, but he came with a lot of work. They weren’t quite so happy with him like they thought they’d be. Personally, I think it was a burden that he was so much work every month. He had a disease that caused an overabundance of red blood cells to be produced. They had to bring him here once a month and get a pint of blood drained off of him or he’d die. They are old, and getting that big of a dog in the car was hard for them. And he didn’t like them on top of that. Kind of funny, actually.” He paused. “They only reported it, though, because one of the assistants up front called to remind them of an appointment, and they said the dog got out and hasn’t been back since.”

I smiled inside. “So, they’re not upset?”

The old doc shook his head. “Not in the least.”

“I would be,” I muttered to myself.

The old doc nodded. “I was. I liked him. He had character. It’s not every day that you see a dog that has seen action. I was proud to help him.”

“Where did you serve?”

“Vietnam,” he said simply.

“Did you know you always wanted to be a veterinarian?”

“No.” He laughed, a big, booming laugh. “I always wanted to be a mechanic. But I couldn’t tell a nut from a transmission. When I was serving, there was this dog. It broke my heart when he got hurt, and I wanted to help him. He died, but I didn’t forget. After I got out, I went to school. Which leads me to now.”

“How long have you been practicing?”

“Forty years. Forty-two, really. When the old vet in town died, the daughter took over the practice. She passed away a few months after she took over, and I was asked by a friend to continue it since I was the only man in four surrounding counties that knew what I was doing.” He sighed. “I’d been retired for six years at that point. And I told him that I would only do it for a short time. But there wasn’t anyone here at that time to take over. I’m just tired. I want to watch my cows eat. And my chickens cluck. I’m an old man.”

That got the wheels turning in my head.

“How long is veterinary school?”

“Seven to nine years if you're starting from scratch. If you have all your basic undergrad, it’s four years.”

I did have all my undergrad, at least. The rest I could get done in four years.

“Do you think you could hang on for four years?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

“I could...if I had help.”

He eyed me speculatively.

I grinned.

“You have a lot of help,” I pointed out.

“In fact, you only have part-time openings.”

We looked over a moment after I said that at the woman who was trying to carry a dog into the room. It was a Saint Bernard who had a leash attached to his collar. Instead of using the leash, she was trying to lift his front paws.

The old doc looked over at me, raising his brows as if saying, ‘Do you see what I have to work with?’

“Marissa!” Dr. Castleberry barked. “This is a sterile OR. Please, for the love of God, get the dog out of here!”

I smiled.

Marissa apologized profusely and left, struggling to get the dog out before she got yelled at again.

The moment the door stopped swinging, the doctor finished what he was saying.

“They’re all left over from the old vet. I couldn't find it in me to fire them."” He paused. “But that one? That one needs a goddamn stern talking to.”

I bit my lip.

She was sweet, but she was rather clueless about anything that didn’t have to do with a phone.

“I’ll expect you to be here, every single day, from eight to two if you’re not in school,” he ordered.

I smiled.

“I’ll do that.”

And I would.

I couldn’t freakin’ wait.

I had a new husband. A plan in life. I was finally freakin’ happy.

How much better could it get?

***

Baylor showed me how much better when he made sweet, slow love to me later that night.

This wasn’t the first time we’d had sex since I’d nearly broken his wiener. But it was the first time I wasn’t actively asking him if he was okay.

Why, you ask?

Because I was delirious.

He had me in such a tizzy by the time we made it to his—our—bedroom that I wasn’t caring about anything but getting him inside of me.

And when he came, pulling me right along with him, I made a promise to myself.

I’d never, not ever, take this for granted.