Page 4 of Call it Fate

That wasn’t good news for me. I hoped to plant extensive flower gardens and build a gazebo behind the main house to make a nicer view for the back bedrooms. If it snowed too much, it would be too muddy and would delay my plans, which would push me into late spring when business began picking up again.

Over the past couple of years, I’d renovated one room at a time, bringing an elegance and warmth to the old home that it hadn’t seen in generations, possibly ever. Next in my plans was the backyard and the field behind The Dogtrot. I was too busy helping Mama manage The Dogtrot, raising my son, and now, apparently, planning an annual event. I also wanted to work on opening up for dinners on weekends, but I’d have to hire more help if I was going to add more hours to my schedule, and I wasn’t ready to do that.

“Better get me a couple more pounds as well, John.”

Hans winked at me. “Prettyandsmart.” He raised his hand to John, tipped his hat to me, and left.

As John brought me my bag of coffee beans, I created a shopping list in my head. Looked like my morning list just got even longer without any help from Beverly. I sighed, resigned that my day “off” wouldn’t be as much “off” as I wanted.

CHAPTER2

Zach

“Iappreciate this, Zach,” Doctor Edward Anders said as he shook my hand and practically pushed me toward the door, probably worried I’d change my mind. “I know this isn’t what you planned.”

He said it like I had a choice. I should have known when he called early this morning and told me to bring Milo into work that something big was up. Too bad it wasn’t the military veteran’s charity drive I thought it would be about.“It’s no problem, really. I’m glad I can help out.”

“I won’t forget it, and I promise it will be an excellent learning experience for you. You’ll get a strong feel for what it’s like to manage an office in addition to caring for a few large animals. I’m sure they’ll benefit from your expertise.”

Yeah, right.“You bet, sir. I’ll do my best. You have my word.”After all, how hard could it be to take over a small-town practice?

“Not to mention it’s a beautiful area.” His jaw twisted with his long exhale. “Part of me wishes I was the one going. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there. Too long, maybe.”

Yeah, well, you’re not the only one wishing for that.

“I’ll have Cynthia arrange for a place to stay, on our dime, of course. There are usually several nice vacation homes there to rent because of all the things in the area to do. Fortunately, this time of year, there should still be something available. She’ll call you when she has the arrangements. Anything else you need, just let me know. I’ll let Wanda know you’re coming. I’m sure it will be a great relief to both her and Harold.”

“That’s what really matters.”It’s not,I started to think, then paused.When did I get so cynical and selfish? It’s not Harold Claypool’s fault he had a stroke and needed time to recuperate.Yet somehow, his problem was now mine.

“And don’t worry about Milo. He’s in great hands until you get settled. We’ll keep him here until your friend is able to pick him up for you.”

Fuck.I’d been doing a good job of keeping a neutral—even a positive—outward expression despite my misgivings until he mentioned Milo.

My dog sat at my feet, his tail swishing across the floor ever since he saw my truck keys in hand. I’d never seen a dog who loved to go on car rides as much as my crazy boxer. No matter the season, he’d stick his head out the window and let his ears and jowls flap in the wind. He’d come a long way from the frisky pup I’d first met, and now, he was my constant companion.

I kneeled down and scratched between his perked ears. “This is really your fault, you know,” I mumbled as he licked my face.

It was kind of true. Shortly after I’d adopted him, Milo got into some rat poison some idiot had left out on my college campus. Frantic, I’d rushed him, puking and pooping the entire way, to the emergency clinic. I watched helplessly as they flushed his system and fought to save his life. It had been touch and go, but the vet never gave up, treating both Milo and me with compassion as we waited.

Milo was the only good thing I still had from my month with Emalee, the girl I thought I’d loved. The one person I thought loved me back just for me.

In those long hours while I sat with Milo, waiting and praying for him to recover and not leave me, I remembered something she once observed—my love for animals. I told her about how, as a boy, I used to bring strays home, heartbroken when neither of my parents allowed me to keep them.

In her gentle way, she reminded me my future was my choice, and nothing was preventing me to care for animals now. She questioned why I wasn’t studying to become a vet. At the time, it felt too late, not to mention how furious it would make my dad, and once she’d left, I hadn’t cared enough to make the change.

Watching the vets work on Milo, that thought took root until it grew into something strong enough to pull me out of the funk I’d been in since she’d left me. It wouldn’t be hard to make the switch; I had the background classes I needed since the track I was originally on included med school plans. And I’d already aced entrance exams for graduate school. I’d long missed the deadline to apply for vet school, but there was no reason I couldn’t take a year off and apply for the following year.

Fortunately, I was accepted and was able to follow my own dream of starting vet school at North Carolina State University, one of the best in the country.

My father was livid when he learned I turned down my acceptance to Stanford for graduate school. He refused to pay for vet school, but if he thought that would break me, he didn’t realize I was more like him than either of us realized until that moment.

When I turned twenty-two, my trust fund from my grandfather kicked in, and—despite his best effort to override it—there was nothing my dad could do. I made my decision, worked my ass off, and graduated at the top of my class, hoping he’d see that I was still the best.

He didn’t attend my graduation or call when I was hired to work at Pleasant Valley Animal Hospital under Doctor Anders—considered one of the best vets in the country—and only paid a mild amount of attention when I made the news for a charity I’d put together. Vets for Vets helped match military vets with a pet, usually a service dog. By sheer coincidence, a national news station caught wind of it and did a full interview for a “feel good” story. Even then, he scoffed that I was volunteering my time rather than making money from it. Still, required family dinners—because the dysfunctional family that eats together still looks put together—became somewhat more tolerable.

He would have a field day if he learned of this latest development. He’d see this as a sign I obviously wasn’t good enough to hold my position, and I was going to lose any chance I had of the surgical internship I wanted. All because now, instead of staying at this top hospital with all the latest equipment and technology and an arsenal of talent, I was being sent to some small town in the Tennessee mountains where I’d probably be relegated to annual checkups and vaccinations, all things I could do with my eyes closed. There was no way it had kept up with the abilities of an urban clinic.

But no, the local vet was out for an undetermined amount of time after he suffered from a stroke. Unfortunately for me, the local vet was a good friend and classmate of Doctor Anders back in vet school, and when Doctor Anders found out, he promised to send temporary help. As much as Anders tried to couch his words that I was the best he had, it came down to me being the newest kid on the block, and therefore, I was the most expendable. I was also single and freer to travel than my peers. I got it…but I didn’t like it.

---