Page 26 of Tangled Up

“Let me get my computer turned on, and I’ll take a look at her.” My brother has the patience of a saint. “Smith,” he tells me, and I go to the filing cabinet to pull her folder.

Henry inherited this practice from the previous vet in town, who was old as Methuselah. Stacks of paper records fill the back hall, and he’s been talking about getting them on the computer for as long as he’s been here. Like he has time for that, being the only small-animal vet in a town full of rich, old retirees. Or retirees in general.

“Here you go.” I hand him the folder. “Snookums Smith.”

The woman analyzes me. “New assistant?”

“My sister, Caroline. Carly, this is Mrs. Smith and Snookums.”

The dog is the size of a purse, and it’s the same color as the old lady’s hair. It shivers as it stands waiting for Henry to take its temperature rectally, and I pet its soft little head.

“How’s it going, Snook?” The poor thing licks my hand, and I don’t know how my brother does it. My heart is way too soft to be a pet vet.

“Well, she does have a slight temperature—”

“Oh, Snookums! Oh, my baby!” The woman cries, grasping her heart.

The dog trembles on the table, and I can’t help wondering how much Mrs. Smith is the problem in this relationship. Her fussing has me on edge, and I’ve only been around her five minutes.

Henry goes to his cabinet and returns with two large, white pills. “Give her one of these tonight and one in the morning. Grind them in her food if you have to, and bring me a stool sample tomorrow. She’s probably just drinking from the toilet again.”

“My… Sweet Lord!” The woman huffs, placing a hand on her chest. “Snookums is a lady!”

Pressing my lips together, I fight a laugh.

Henry takes it all in stride. “Either way, we’ll know once we run some tests.” He gently scrubs the little dog’s chin. “Get some rest, okay Snook?”

The woman softens, giving my brother an affectionate pat on the arm. “You have such a way with the little animals, Dr. Dennison.”

She’s out the door, but the waiting room is full. An iguana, five more dogs, a parrot, a pet squirrel, and five cats later, it’s finally time to close the office.

“Sweet Baby Jesus!” I turn the silver lock on the door inside the clinic and lower the shade before collapsing against the wall. “How do you do it? I feel like my eyes are crossing.”

Not to mention my phone has buzzed several times, and I haven’t been able to look at it.

“You get used to it.” My brother hangs his stethoscope on the hook and pats me on the shoulder. “Thanks for helping out. I’m short an assistant since my last one left for college.”

He settles up the final paperwork, and we leave out the back door, strolling towards Aunt Viv’s cottage. “We never got a chance to talk about why you’re home. Everything okay?”

His question hits me harder than I expected. My eyes warm, and my throat goes dry and achy.

I slide my hand into the crook of his arm and laugh through the unexpected surge of emotion. “I’m hanging in there.”

Lifting his arm over my shoulder, he hugs me against his side. “You never said much about what happened. You simply ran away to Pensacola and never came back. Maybe it’s time to get some things off your chest.”

“Are you telling me, ‘Physician, heal thyself’?”

“Well, you are a therapist. I’d think you’d know the importance of talking about it rather than holding it inside.”

We take a few more steps in silence. Henry doesn’t push. He doesn’t have to. He’s one of the few people who had a ring-side seat to what went down between Beck Munroe and me.

“It was hard seeing him again.” I study my white Keds scuffling through the sand. “It was like nothing had changed between us.”

He thinks a moment, then gently asks, “Did you talk about Tyler?”

“No.” My voice is quiet.

I know the subject will come up—it has to come up, but I don’t know how it will end, other than in anger, hurt, and betrayal on both sides.

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