Chapter 2 - Take Your Time

Dani scanned the parking lot of the Beaumont Veterinary Clinic for signs her boss had beaten her to work. The horse trailer was missing from its usual spot, which meant either Trip was already on the road or she hadn’t come back from yesterday’s call. She sometimes slept over, depending on the client. Her new boss was quite the ladies’ woman. She chuckled to herself. Takes one to know one.

Dani wanted to impress her new boss, so every day she worked her plan—be early, become an asset, and tactfully offer suggestions to save time and improve efficiency of the practice. A short-term plan kept her from obsessing about her stalled long-term goals of getting back to the city, finding a permanent job, and buying her first home—a moderate-sized home that would be nothing like the sprawling house on this property.

Trip’s Victorian mansion sat at the end of a long, wide driveway that split off to the right, with the stables to the left. Dani surveyed the sizeable vet office with attached U-shaped stables and oval riding ring on a huge plot of land, a perfect setup for both a large and small animal vet practice. Surrounding the structures as far as she could see were flat acres of plowed fields with standing water between the rows, not a building or person in sight. Crows cawing and pecking the churned ground were the only sounds. How had she ended up in such a wasteland?

Dani slid the business key from her jeans pocket and opened the clinic back door. The building was dark and the smells of cleaning products filled the air. Thank God for high school students who’d do anything for extra credit. One less menial task Dani had to handle, more time for the animals. Brenda, the clinic’s receptionist, usually turned on every light in the place when she arrived, so Dani would be alone for now, just the way she liked it.

She pulled the white Beaumont Clinic lab coat over her jeans and flannel shirt and headed to the recovery room to check on their only overnight guest. Boxer, a young French bulldog, rose slowly to his feet and watched every move as she approached. She’d neutered him yesterday afternoon, but he hadn’t come out of anesthesia as quickly as she liked so she’d kept him for observation, checking on his condition a couple of times during the night when she couldn’t sleep. Today his eyes were clearer and his movements, though cautious, indicated he’d recovered well.

“Good morning, Boxer, my boy. How are you? A little less baggage down below, but that doesn’t mean you can’t play. Trust me.” She gently lifted him from the pen, removed the Elizabethan collar, and snuggled him against her neck. He nuzzled and licked the side of her face, a sure sign he was feeling better. She placed him on an exam table and checked the surgical site. No redness or elevated temperature, only slight swelling, and no discharge, all good signs. “You’ll be able to go home today, my friend, but unfortunately you’ll have to wear the collar of shame for a few days. Sorry about that.”

Boxer shivered, and Dani tucked him inside her coat and walked through the exam area into the back where the washer and dryer were located. She threw a clean towel in the dryer, turned it on for a few minutes, and then wrapped it around her young charge. “Doesn’t that feel good, boy?” Sinking to the floor against the dryer, she held Boxer to her chest. These were the moments she loved, comforting an animal and making a difference in a life. Helping animals was easy. People proved more challenging with their expectations and potential to cause pain.

She scratched the little guy behind his ears. “Are you ready to go home?”

Boxer made a small sound in his throat which she interpreted as a definite yes.

She’d give anything to be back in Baltimore. So many things in this rural practice differed from her dream job at the Maryland Zoo, city versus country being only the start. Her room at the B and B was clean, comfortable, and homey, but eating meals with strangers as if they were family was just weird. She enjoyed a more contemporary style, the vibrancy of city life, and not so much togetherness. This place was so peaceful she’d resorted to a phone app with city sounds to fall asleep. But unlike the city, everyone she’d met was nice, too nice, and too interested in her and her past.

“Are you hungry, Boxer?”

“Oh my God!”

Startled by the unexpected voice, Dani jerked and hugged Boxer closer. She was engrossed in her patient and hadn’t registered Brenda’s arrival or noticed when she turned on the clinic lights.

Brenda stood in the doorway, her leathery skin pale, with one hand over her heart and the other clinging to a greasy paper bag. “You scared the wet out of me. I parked in front so I didn’t know anyone else was here. You should’ve turned the lights on to save us both the loss of a couple years’ growth.” Brenda shivered and pulled an elbow-patched sweater tighter, which reeked with the scent of cigarette smoke. “This place is cold enough to hang meat. The cleaner must’ve been having a hot flash last night.” She paused long enough for Dani to respond, but when she didn’t, continued. “I stopped by the Pine Cone Diner and picked up two ham biscuits for me and Trip, but it’s hit or miss with her. Want one?”

“No thanks, Brenda.”

“I can always eat it cold for lunch. Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for a response, she pulled a box of supplies closer and sat down. “They were busier than moths in a mitten over at the diner. Thought I’d fade waiting for this.” She pulled a sandwich from the bag and took a huge bite. “Mmm…that is some kind of good. Bud is a cantankerous old hoot, but he makes a mean flaky biscuit with country ham. Chatty Jolene sends her best, whatever that means. You have got to try this at least.” She shoved the biscuit toward Dani.

The still warm smell of lard and flour almost made Dani heave. She shook her head, amazed at the gusto with which Brenda attacked her food. She rivaled a ravenous dog but proved entirely capable of multitasking as she launched into questions with a mouthful of food.

“Can I give Boxer a taste? He looks hungry.”

“Not just yet. I’ll feed him in a bit, if Tim doesn’t show up first.”

“Sorry, boy.” Brenda petted Boxer’s head and took another bite of her sandwich. “So, tell me things about yourself, Danielle Wingate.”

Dani winced. Brenda, like most people in this town, should come with a warning sign: Have News Will Travel. “It’s Dani and there’s not much to tell.”

“A sweet young thing like you is bound to have some stories. This is just girl talk over breakfast, and you can trust me, unlike some of the blabbermouths in this town, say Jolene for instance. My lips are sealed.” She twisted her thumb and forefinger in front of her mouth.

If only. Dani stroked Boxer’s fur, suddenly needing him more than the reverse. Did Brenda really think she could simply demand her life story? What happened to Southern tact and subtlety? “I’m really not into girl talk.” The front bell chimed, and Dani scrambled to her feet.

“Guess that’s Tim to collect Boxer,” Brenda said with a disappointed sigh.

“Would you mind reassuring him while I finish examining Boxer and make sure he’s ready to go home?”

Brenda stuffed the rest of the biscuit in her mouth and mumbled something that resembled sure. She was a good vet receptionist because she knew everybody in town and the names of their pets. She was a talker, able to calm and distract anxious pet parents while their babies received treatment. But she also smoked so much her clothes stank, and it required a halo of pine air fresheners to keep the odor down in the office. Plus, she tried too hard to be everybody’s friend and asked way too many personal questions for Dani.

She finished Boxer’s exam, secured his E-collar, and clipped on a leash so he could walk out to meet his dad. Tim knelt on the floor as they approached, picked Boxer up, and scratched a favorite spot on his shoulders. The way Boxer’s cone bounced repeatedly off Tim’s face as he licked him assured Dani he was cared for and loved.

“I think he’s going to be just fine. He came through the surgery like a champ. I’d keep him away from other animals for a while until he’s healed a bit more. Leave the cone on so he can’t lick the incision site, and check daily for swelling, redness, or discharge. If you notice any of those, bring him back in. And don’t bathe him for at least ten days. Any questions?”

Tim’s eyes dimmed with the fear she’d seen so often in parents who weren’t quite sure they could handle such an important task. “Uh…will he be in pain? Can he eat?”

“Maybe you could offer him a boiled egg or something softer for a few days, then slowly add his usual fare back in. I was going to give him something before you arrived, but I’m sure he’d rather eat with you at home. If he’s not drinking, put some beef or chicken broth in the water. You’ve had him since he was a pup, so you’ll notice if he acts uncomfortable. I’ve prescribed some mild pain relievers. If you have any questions or concerns, you can always reach Trip or me. One of us is on call twenty-four seven.”

Tim pumped her hand for several seconds. “Thank you, Doc, thank you so much. I just don’t know what I’d do without this little fellow.”

“Hopefully, you won’t have to find out for a very long time.” She watched as he exited with Boxer securely cradled in his arms.

“Ain’t love grand?” Brenda quipped. “Wish people were as devoted to each other as they are to their pets.”

Dani often wished the same thing. “Sure.” She escaped to the back before Brenda launched into questions about why Dani agreed with her.

Animals were more easygoing and less complicated than humans. People could be cruel and demanding, but animals were devoted and only wanted love, attention, water, and food. She related to animals just fine, people not so much.

The residents of Pine Cone could accept her as she was or not for the brief time she’d be here. Her situation was only temporary, and as soon as possible she’d be back in a place where life made sense and technology had moved beyond dial-up. She threw the cloths she’d used on Boxer into a laundry bin and moved to her next patient who wouldn’t ask questions.