Page 37 of So Wrong It's Right

I’m practical and methodical about medicine. My patients get the benefit of my training and my full concentrated effort. But for all my practical and reasonable ideas and manners, inside me is a boy who just really loves dogs. I care for all animals, of course. I couldn’t do what I do very well if I didn’t because they know. All animals just know.

But dogs. There is something about them that reaches me on a level most humans don’t. They always make me want to be a better man.

Yeah, I’m doing the job I was meant to do.

As I leave Rusty resting comfortably, I find the reception area is a different scene now. Calm, relaxed. Stella’s got the once inconsolable girl in her lap on the floor, and they are coloring with the confiscated gel pens from my desk. The girl giggles at something Stella tells her. I’m struck by how easy it seems for her to deal with our patients’ people. My bedside manner there needs work. Humans are not my strong suit.

Stella does so well with them. She’s...well, she’s amazing. She’ll be a good mom. She’s open-hearted and fun and look at her on the floor with that little girl. Even though I’ve thought a lot about having kids lately, I don’t have that knack she does. Kids don’t climb into my lap, don’t come to me for fun or consolation. Yeah, I can provide well for a family...but I need to learn how to be more like Stella.

Something neither of us would ever believe I would have thought.

When they notice me, everyone stops what they are doing and stares at me. The little girl’s eyes are shining. The mom is holding a sleeping baby. It’s the dad that looks most vulnerable, though. You can see that all he wants is to take care of this family, and knowing he ran over his own dog is ripping his heart to shreds. Quietly. Stealthily.

“Rusty is going to be fine,” I say quickly.

The girl squeeze-hugs Stella and everyone starts talking at once, chaos running the show once again. But it’s manageable with Stella there directing it into something organized. We make arrangements to get Rusty home with care instructions, and when I get back to my office, the box of colorful pens is back on my desk. And a picture signed by Misty Briggs is taped to my monitor.

Chapter Fifteen

Stella

Ifind Christopherin his office, twirling a pen idly in his fingers and looking thoughtfully at the picture Misty drew for him.

“That’s you,” I tell him, pointing to the man in the picture with really big hands standing next to a red dog. “Misty wanted to make you something to thank you for working on Rusty. It helped keep her mind off things.”

“You’re good with kids,” Christopher says. He pins the picture to the bulletin board behind his desk. “They like you.”

“They recognize a fellow child.”

He shakes his head. “You’re good with them because you care. You have a big heart, Stella. You take care of everyone around you.”

I’m not sure what to do with that. “Thanks.”

He hears the catch in my throat, the way I raise my voice so that it comes out more like a question.

He stretches. “Long day.”

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