badly hurt and in shock. Probably a stray, since he wasn’t wearing a collar, and the poor thing looked mangy and thin.
“Does anyone know who he belongs to?” Jason asked.
“I don’t think he belongs to anyone,” a boy on a bicycle answered. “He’s been around the last couple of days. I never saw him before that.”
“I’m going to take him to my office,” Jason said after a preliminary examination. He didn’t feel too positive about the dog’s chances.
“Is he going to live?” Charlotte alone voiced the question, but she seemed to be the spokesperson for the small gathering—each one wanted, indeed needed, to know. The children and Charlotte stared down at Jason, waiting for his response.
“I’m not sure,” Jason answered honestly. “He’s got a broken leg and internal injuries.”
“I’ll pay for his medical expenses,” Charlotte offered, using her index finger to wipe a tear from her eye.
Jason wasn’t even thinking about the expenses. Frankly, he didn’t think the dog would last the night. “Give me your sweater,” he told Charlotte. Since it was already stained with blood, he figured they’d save time by using it to transport the injured dog.
She did as he asked, and he spread it out on the pavement, then placed the wounded dog on it. Jason carefully lifted him, using the sweater sleeves, and walked toward his car.
“I’ll go with you,” Charlotte said, while Jason placed the now-unconscious dog in the backseat.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “This could take some time.”
“I’m sure.” Carrie came running up to the car. The girl had tears in her eyes, too. Mother and daughter briefly hugged before Carrie stepped away. She looked so mournful it was all Jason could do not to stop and reassure her. But he had no reassurances to offer.
His veterinary clinic was only a few blocks from the apartment complex. Charlotte followed him in. He set the injured dog on the stainless-steel examination table and turned on the lights above it. Charlotte’s sweater was soaked with blood beyond the point of salvaging it, but she didn’t seem concerned.
Jason examined the dog’s injuries and it was as he’d feared: surgery would be required.
He told Charlotte and she nodded bravely. “Can I do anything? I’m not a nurse, but I’d like to assist—that is, if you think I’d be any help?”
Jason hesitated, uncertain, then decided. “You can if you really want to.”
She nodded. “Please.”
“You don’t have to,” he said. This wasn’t going to be pretty and if she was the least bit squeamish, it would be better to sit out in the waiting room. He told her as much.
“I want to,” she said confidently. “I can handle it.”
Jason didn’t take long to set up everything he needed for the surgery. They both scrubbed down and he gave her a green surgical cap and gown. He smiled at her before administering the anesthesia, taking pains to explain what he was doing and why.
The procedure didn’t last more than an hour. When he’d finished, he transferred the dog to the hospital portion of his facility. There was a night-time staff member who’d watch over the spaniel and the other pets who required continuous care.
“What do you think?” she asked hopefully when he returned.
“It doesn’t look promising,” Jason told her. He didn’t want to give her any false hopes or mislead her. “But he might surprise us. He’s only a couple of years old and he’s got a strong heart. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. If he survives until tomorrow night, then he should do okay. But he’s going to need a lot of attention and love afterward.”
“Carrie and I will make sure he gets it. Can we come see him?” She paused. “Do veterinary hospitals have visiting hours?”
“You can come anytime you like.” He sighed and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. He was tired and hungry.
“You were wonderful….” She seemed to sense his worry and exhaustion.
“Let’s decide that in the morning.”
“If Higgins lives, we’ll owe everything to you.”
“Higgins?”
“I thought it was a good name. Do you like it?”
He shrugged. He was too tired and too hungry to have much of an opinion on anything at the moment.
“You haven’t had dinner, have you?” she surprised him by asking.
“No. How’d you know that?”
“You look hungry.”
“That’s because I am. You want to grab something?” he asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
She smiled. “Only this time I’ll treat.”
“Charlotte …”
“I insist. Please don’t argue.”
He didn’t have the energy to protest, so he simply agreed. Since she was buying, he let her choose the restaurant. She decided on a nearby sandwich shop. He breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread as soon as he walked in the door.
It was the type of place where customers seated themselves and the silverware was wrapped in a red checkered napkin. The waitress, who looked all of sixteen, took their order, and promptly brought coffee. She came back a few minutes later with six-inch-high sandwiches, layered with sliced turkey, ham, roast beef, lettuce, tomato slices and onion.
“How have you been?” he asked casually after wolfing down the first half of his sandwich.
“Until the accident tonight I was just fine,” Charlotte told him, her eyes flitting away from his. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not so emotional, but seeing that poor little dog on the road bleeding and hurt like that really got to me.”
“It gets to me, too.” The sight of an innocent animal suffering never failed to disturb Jason, although he saw it time and time again. The helplessness of the situation, the complete disregard for life that a hit-and-run accident revealed, angered him.
“I’m so glad you were home,” Charlotte said, keeping her gaze lowered. “I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”
“I’m glad I was there, too.” He reached across the table, taking her hand, linking their fingers. Her skin was smooth and soft, just the way he remembered.
His eyes sought hers. He smiled and she smiled back. Jason felt ridiculously, unreasonably pleased that they were together. For days he’d been fighting it, and now that they were together, he felt foolish for having put up such a struggle. He should quit worrying about the future, he told himself. Live for the moment. Wasn’t that what all the self-help books said? One day at a time. One kiss at a time.
After
