Page 45 of One Cut Deeper
“No, thank you, we’ll take care of her. Can you find your way out? Ranay, I could use your help. Put some gloves on.”
The Good Samaritan steps out as I grab some gloves.
“Of course we have an emergency when I’ve sent everyone home early. Does blood make you squeamish?”
“I don’t know,” I answer quietly. “But I want to try.”
She smiles at me. “Good. Poor thing’s got a badly broken leg. I’ll take an X-ray but I don’t think we’ll be able to save it. Grab that table over there and slide it closer.”
I slide into the role of assistant easily. It isn’t that hard—Dr. Wentworth tells me exactly what she needs and where it is. The puppy is only six to eight weeks old, some kind of bully mix. Probably dumped. Unwanted, unloved and now she’s going to lose a leg too.
“She’s still a baby,” Dr. Wentworth says as she works. “Her tummy’s awfully round, so she’s probably got worms, but we can take care of that. She ought to heal well with good food and care. She won’t be slowed down at all. Don’t worry about her, Ranay. She’ll make someone a loving, adorable pet.”
I smile, though it’s wobbly. “I hope so.”
“You did good work today. Are you interested in doing more hands-on work with the animals?”
Unbelievable. Here I’ve been needlessly stressing out about how to ask, and the situation has worked out on its own. “I was going to ask you about becoming a vet tech today, but we were too busy. I was going to take a formal program, but it’s expensive and I don’t want to move to St. Louis. I like it here.”
Dr. Wentworth smiles. “Good. We like having you. Unless you need official certification, there’s a lot that you can just pick up from us. Eventually you probably ought to take some courses, but I’m sure we can find something more suitable. Real hands-on work is more valuable than sitting in a controlled lab with a bunch of kids, anyway.”
Walking back to the front, we notice a package sitting on the counter at the same time. “Huh, did you hear anyone come in?”
“Nope.” I pick up the manila envelope. “It’s addressed to me. Why would something get sent here?”
Dr. Wentworth shrugs, but her bright eyes and eager smile tells me she’s highly interested in whatever’s inside.
The return address is the Department of Motor Vehicles from Jefferson City. My stomach clenches and my fingers tremble as I tear open the envelope. Maybe I got a ticket from one of those intersection cameras. Or someone is using my identity. Or—
I scan the letter first but it doesn’t make much sense. It tells me to keep the included certificate with me at all times, along with the animal’s immunization record. Confused, I hand the letter to Dr. Wentworth and read the certificate.
Sheba is officially listed as my service dog.
Charlie said I’d get a surprise today, if possible, that would enable me to keep Sheba with me at all times.
“So that’s why he wanted all of those extra copies of Sheba’s shots.” Dr. Wentworth flips through the extra papers. “Awesome. I had no idea he had her trained so thoroughly. She’s been through every obedience and assistance class I’ve ever heard of.”
My eyes burn and my throat aches, but I don’t cry. All I can do was gather up the papers and avoid looking at her. So grateful, not only to Charlie for making sure Sheba can be with me anywhere, but also to my boss, who never once asks what disability or excuse I have to justify a trained service dog. She accepts it, like she accepted me.
“I don’t have to ask how your night with Sheba went.”
I freeze and slowly drag my gaze up to her face. She’s been friends with Charlie awhile and knows about his wine collection. She knows where he lives. Have they ever dated? Now that I know what he’s into, I don’t see how. Dr. Wentworth is an attractive woman in her mid-to-late thirties, but she’s so calm, centered, and in control. I can’t imagine her being submissive in the bedroom. No way. Not the way he likes.
Dr. Wentworth smiles broadly. “It’s about time. I’ve never seen a man take such a slow, deliberate approach to asking a woman out. I thought he was never going to get up the nerve!”
I force out a laugh, hoping I don’t sound like a nervous twit. “Slow was perfect.”
“I’m glad. You couldn’t ask for a better man.”
“Have you known him for long?”
Dr. Wentworth thinks for a moment. “Not really. A year or so. When he started bringing Sheba to us. Actually, it was right before that. He invited a bunch of us to his house for drinks first.”
“Us?”
“Vets in the area. We joked about it because we’d never seen a client interview us quite so well. He was damned serious about making sure he picked the best vet for Sheba. I didn’t know we won until shortly after I hired you.”
I could totally see him interviewing all of the local vets to make sure he picked the best one, and it certainly made sense that he’d be efficient and interview them all at the same time.