Page 41 of Tangled Up

“I had an unexpected run-in with Jeb Callahan a few weeks ago. Figured I’d come out and see how he was doing, check on the house, see what’s new around here.”

“Ah, excuse me, doctor?” The man holding the Dalmatian’s leash glances between us. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Sparky can’t stand for long.”

“Right.” Henry nods and glances at me. “Care to help me with a little minor surgery?”

“Ahh…” I look at the dog and back to my friend. “I’ve never worked on a dog—”

“Trust me, if Carly can help me stitch up a Rottweiler, you can help me excise a mass from Sparkplug’s hindquarters.” He puts a hand on the man’s arm. “My friend here is an internist in Tampa. He’s helping me out today.”

The man’s eyes light. “Wow, how do you do, Dr…”

“Munroe. I’ve never actually treated dogs, but—”

“He’s very interested in the similarities between human and canine anatomy,” Henry fibs. “Especially as they age.”

A glint is in his eye, and I’m ready to kick his butt. I have no interest in dog surgery or any kind of animal work. Then he turns to the teenager.

“Lana, would you take over for Carly and send her in to assist us?”

I glance through the open door and see Carly stroking the tiny poodle’s head as she holds it on the scale. Knowing she’ll be helping us changes my mind.

“How different can it be?” I concede.

The monitor beeps, and we’re standing around a plain white table with Carly holding a controller and keeping an eye on the readings. The dalmatian is out cold, but I’m lying across his body just in case he wakes up. The surgery room smells like disinfectant, wet dog, and kibble, and it’s as small as a closet.

“Tell me, Hank, who was going to help you if I hadn’t walked in your door this morning?”

“God always provides.” Henry’s voice is level, focused as he carefully shaves a fleshy tumor from the dog’s backside.

“You’re still into the God thing?” I rest my chin on my hand as I wait for him to finish.

Carly’s quiet, staying at the head of the bed while I’m in the middle of the action. It wasn’t the day I had planned to spend with her, but it’s a start.

Henry glances up at me briefly. “Are you asking if I still have faith? Yes, I do.” He steps back, wiping a sleeve across his forehead. “All done. Carly, would you stay with him until he comes around? I’ll send Mr. Evans back.”

“Sure.” Her voice is quiet, and when our eyes meet, she looks away quickly.

I don’t want to leave. “Need help with anything else?”

“Nah, you can hang out with Carly while I finish.”

The dog’s head begins to move side to side, and when his owner appears, I step over to the sink to wash my hands. Henry loaned me a scrub top to protect my clothes, not that I’m wearing anything that can’t be soiled.

Carly smiles at the man, carefully removing the monitors from the dog’s body. “It’s just a mild sedative. He should be back to normal by suppertime. Use the cone if he tries to lick or bite at the stitches.”

She goes to a cabinet, and I step out into the anteroom. The yowling of a cat echoes from behind another door, and I’ve got to hand it to my friend. He’s fucking brave to treat cats.

One rabbit and a puppy later, and it’s time for lunch. Carly and Lana have spent the morning wrapping black and purple streamers around the office while her brother complains.

“It’s distracting, and it freaks out the birds,” Henry grumbles as he pulls the blue scrub top over his head.

He’s still in pretty good shape, and I notice Lana checking him out as he pulls a black T-shirt over his head.

“Everybody loves Halloween, Dr. D.” Her voice is quiet, and I arch an eyebrow.

Lana can’t be older than seventeen, but my friend doesn’t even notice her crush. He lowers his brow and points his finger in a stern manner. “Nothing that makes noise or jerky movements. Or flashing lights.”

Carly steps between her brother and his teenage admirer. “We know, Dr. Grumpy Pants. Now get out of here and let us do this.”

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