She pulled back, leaning against his arms as she searched his face. “What? What did you say?”
“I said ‘thank you.’ God, Mary Jane, I miss him so much. I’m not sure how to go on. I know I have to, and he would have wanted me to, but damn, I’ve lost the thing that gave my life meaning. He was a brother to me. I don’t know how to go on from that. It’s such a useless loss. It has changed our lives forever. Maverick’s, too.”
“I know.”
“There’s something I haven’t told you yet. Something about Maverick. Something you need to know.”
Her eyes searched his apprehensively. “What? What is it?”
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“Rob, you’re scaring me. What is it?”
“I think Maverick has PTSD.”
“How is that possible? I’ve never heard of an animal getting PTSD before.”
“They can. They experience things that are life-threatening and traumatic. It’s impossible for them to understand what happened. Maverick got hurt from an IED. He watched Trevor. He knew his partner was hurt. Despite his injuries, Maverick crawled over to comfort him. They took Trevor away in a helicopter, and he disappeared forever. Maverick woke up in a veterinary hospital, surrounded by strangers, unable to walk, immobilized for months. He didn’t see anybody he recognized until I went to get him months later.”
“And now, he’s stuck with me.”
“No, Mary Jane, he’s not stuck. He needs to get to know you. But he has trouble. At night, sometimes, he seems to have nightmares or flashbacks. He lets out this chilling howl that makes your skin crawl. He doesn’t know where he is sometimes when he wakes up.”
“Oh, Rob. How terrible! What are we going to do?”
“I went to the store you told me about—the one that’s run by a K-9 cop and his wife. I talked with her about Maverick, and she recommended a veterinarian who’s been in the army. She’s supposed to know about PTSD in animals, especially service animals. In fact, I made an appointment for us for tomorrow morning. I know I should have talked with you about it, but they’re only open till noon on Saturday, and I wanted to get an appointment as soon as possible. Because you’ll be his guardian, they want you to come too.”
She took a deep breath. This was a lot to take in. But what choice did they have? They needed to help Maverick, and maybe the vet would teach them what to do. She nodded.
“I’m not working tomorrow, so that should be fine.” She stopped talking, considering. “Rob, if it’s better for Maverick to stay with you, I’ll do whatever I need to do to transfer him. The Marines will let me do that, won’t they?”
“I don’t know. Let’s not cross that bridge unless we know more about what he needs and how to get it for him.” He pulled her toward him again to give her a hug. “Thanks, Mary Jane. I hope you know I want it to work out with you and Maverick. You both deserve to be happy, and I think maybe you can be good for each other.”
She gazed at him to judge his sincerity. Trevor was lucky to have had him for his best friend. She was glad he was here for her. She wasn’t sure how she would make it through what lay ahead, but with Rob in her corner, she might just make it.
Chapter Seven
Rob woke the next morning feeling more content and rested than he had in months. Both he and Maverick had slept through the night without being interrupted by nightmares and intrusive flashbacks. He stretched his arms and pulled himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Maverick lay on the floor just below his feet, still asleep. This was a first. In the past, he’d always awakened to the sound of the dog’s whimpers or panting. He checked the time: 07:12. Yep. Some light shone through the curtains. Time to get up.
“Maverick,” he said in a firm voice. The dog lifted his head and stared at him. “Time to get up.” He headed off to the bathroom, stretching stiff muscles as he walked down the hall.
Maverick stood wagging his tail when Rob returned to slide into yesterday’s jeans and a clean T-shirt. “Ready to go for a walk? Porta a spasso?” It almost looked like the dog nodded. “C’mon.” He gave Maverick the “come” gesture and led him down the outside stairwell into the fenced backyard.
As the dog sniffed and marked his territory, Rob thought back to dinner with Mary Jane. She’d seemed on board about doing what was necessary to help Maverick’s PTSD, if that’s what he had. They’d learn more this morning from the vet. Mary Jane had never experienced the bone-chilling howl during an episode. Would it scare her away completely? Or maybe remind her of Trevor’s death? He sighed. All they could do was take things one day at a time.
As Maverick explored, Rob went back upstairs to get several dog toys. They might as well experiment with doing some exercise in the backyard. He hadn’t met his downstairs neighbor yet and didn’t want to make a lot of noise. For some people, zero-seven-thirty on a Saturday morning was the crack of dawn. As an ex-military man, sleeping past sunrise was an anamoly that happened only when he was exhausted from being in the field for days, or was in the hospital, heavily sedated.
He got Maverick’s attention with a hand gesture and held up the ball for him to see. The Malinois sat, tongue lolling, his increased body tension telling Rob he was ready. He released the ball and Maverick dashed after it, leaping high into the air to catch it before it could drop to the ground. The dog trotted over and dropped it at his feet, and Rob leaned down to pick it up and throw it again. An hour later, they were both exhausted.
He gestured for Maverick to follow him upstairs, and the dog headed immediately to his water dish. As Maverick lapped up most of the water and started on some kibble, Rob stripped off his clothes and headed for the shower.
Maverick was asleep on the kitchen floor when Rob got out, hair wet and smelling better. He dressed in fresh jeans and a clean T-shirt and fixed a cup of coffee and scrambled a few eggs. As he ate, his thoughts turned to Mary Jane.
She’d done well with Maverick last night. At first she’d been tentative, no doubt because she worried about Maverick’s mental state. Once he’d coached her into being assertive and portraying confidence, she’d led the dog around the block several times, the last few on her own. It was difficult to let her out of his sight, but he needed to let her develop her own relationship with the dog who was to become her partner. Lost in thought about what the future would bring, he finally looked down to see Maverick sitting at his knee, smiling. It was the craziest thing to see his doggy grin. He’d shown it a lot when he’d been around the base with Trevor, but not much since then. Was he was healing?
“Who knows, Maverick? Maybe Mary Jane can heal us both. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the head? I meet someone I could fall for, and she belongs to my best friend.” He snorted in disgust. The world was full of irony. He startled as a wet tongue licked his hand to comfort him. “Thanks, buddy.”
He rinsed his dishes and tried to ready himself to see Mary Jane again.
***
Mary Jane had tossed and turned for most of the night. She’d felt relaxed and safe in Rob’s arms—at least until guilt had assailed her. They’d comforted each other, and yet…for her, she worried it had been more. Rob was a nice guy, and frankly, a bit of a hunk. He’d been Trevor’s best friend. How could she have moved beyond that friend zone into feeling attracted to him? Wasn’t that a betrayal of her love for Trevor?
She heard Trevor’s voice in her head, telling her he’d sent Rob to help her move on, to love again. “I’m not sure I can do that, Trevor,” she answered out loud. “I’ve never loved anyone but you.”
“Move on,” the voice in her head told her.
She’d just buried her face in her hands when she heard a knock on the front door. Rob and Maverick. Pull yourself together, MJ.
She wiped a few errant tears off her face and squared her shoulders. She needed to be confident and assertive. She needed to prove that she had what it took to care for a troubled warrior dog.
“Hey, come on in,” she said as she opened th
e door. Rob searched her face as if he could spot the streaks of tears or the telltale muscle movements that would reveal how much she struggled. She squatted down in the hallway to pet Maverick. “How’s my boy? Did you have a good night, Maverick?” She peeked up at Rob. “How’d he do last night?”
“We both had a great night. Solid sleep. In fact, I woke up before he did this morning, which is unheard of. We slept until after seven.”
“Did you go to the park?” She turned her attention back to Maverick, as if she was asking him.
“No, we played ball this morning in the backyard. He wore me out. Can’t believe how energetic he is, especially after being so severely injured. He leaped into the air as if he could jump small buildings in a single bound.”
“Oh, Superdog, huh?”
“Not quite, but he tried to act like it. Are you ready to go?”
“Sure.” Together they walked out onto the front porch. She turned and locked the oak door behind them. “Want to take my car?”
“No, I’ll drive. Maverick can ride in the back without drooling dog spit down your neck. Your car is a little small for all three of us.”
“Yeah, I know. You’d be hugging your knees in my car. My brother is the same way about his truck. Guys love their trucks, I guess. The bigger the better.”
“Hey, size matters!”
MJ rolled her eyes at him. “I need to talk to you about something. I don’t think I’ve been fair to you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you not to call me MJ. I was bitchy about it. It’s just that it hurt to hear you use the name that Trevor called me.”
“Hey, I understand—”
“Well, it wasn’t fair of me. My family calls me MJ. My friends all call me MJ. Some folks at the library call me MJ. There’s no real reason I should make you call me Mary Jane.”
“Are you sure? I get why it would be difficult for you to hear me call you that.”
“It seems petty, Rob. I don’t want to be that person. You’ve been nothing but nice to me. You’re doing everything you can to help me get used to Maverick and learn how to handle him. You don’t deserve me acting like some spoiled princess, demanding you use my formal name.”
“Okay, MJ, I appreciate it. I’ve been calling you MJ in my head, anyway. That’s how Trevor referred to you, and that’s how I think of you. This way I won’t have to keep correcting myself.” He shot her a grin.
“Thanks. Do you think this vet will be able to help Maverick with his problem?” She looked at the dog furtively as if she’d hurt his feelings by mentioning his PTSD directly.
“I don’t know. I hope so. Maybe she’ll have specific ways for us to help him when he has flashbacks, or whatever is triggering those episodes of fear.”
“Whatever we need to do, I’m ready. Maverick is a sweetheart.”
As if he knew what she was saying, the Malinois stuck his nose over the back headrest and panted into her ear.
“Careful. He’s a warrior dog. He’s not supposed to be a ‘sweetheart.’”
She made a face and rolled her eyes. Marines took themselves seriously. Trevor had been the same way.
They pulled into the parking lot of the Mountain Veterinary Clinic, and Rob hooked Maverick up to his halter and leash and helped him down. MJ jumped down as soon as both were out of her way and joined them as they walked through the door of the small, tan brick building.
“Good morning!” a perky blonde in her mid-twenties greeted them. “I’m Beth. Welcome to Mountain Veterinary Clinic. You must be here with Maverick. It’ll be a few minutes. Meantime, can I get you to fill out this paperwork?” The young woman handed the clipboard to Rob. She stared at MJ for several moments.
“I think I know you. I graduated from Ridgeview High about six years ago, and you look awfully familiar. Are you a teacher?”
“No, librarian.”
“Oh, yes! I know you from the Ridgeview Public Library. I’m Beth Boswell.”
“I remember you, now. You used to come in with your little sister. What was her name? Oh, right. Charity.”
She stole a look at Rob to see what he was making of this trip down Memory Lane. He looked highly entertained. She caught his eye, and he winked at her.
She could almost hear him say, “Typical small town.”
She sat down to help him fill out the form. He knew Maverick’s history much better than she did, but she needed to supply her name, address, phone number, and email as the dog’s new owner. They’d just finished when a door opened and a vet tech announced, “Maverick can come back this way. Let’s get a weight on him.”
The dog looked at Rob for instructions. He gestured for the Malinois to follow the man, and together they made a short parade down the hall to a floor scale. He gestured for Maverick to get up and stand on the scale, and the technician quickly recorded the weight. Eighty-two pounds.
“Looks like he’s holding his weight,” Rob said. “He lost about fifteen pounds after he got injured, but he’s slowly put it back on, and hopefully, it’s coming back in with muscle.”
The tech nodded. “How long ago was he hurt? What happened to him?”
Rob looked like he hated to think about the answers. She could probably tell him to the minute how long it had been, because the dog’s injuries occurred at the same time Trevor was killed. She opened her mouth just as Rob began to speak.
“It was just over eight months ago. He was hit in an explosion in Afghanistan. IED. He was a working dog, sniffing explosives. His handler was killed, and it injured Maverick. Both legs were damaged, and he spent months in rehab at Camp Lejeune. Probably had a concussion too. The explosion was only a couple of meters away. He got battered by rocks and shrapnel.”
“You were there?”
“Yeah. I was okay then but didn’t do so well in the months afterwards. Got shot in my right leg and spent three months in rehab in DC.”
“Thank you for your service,” the technician said, looking at both Rob and Maverick. The dog dropped his head and whined as if he knew exactly what they were saying.
“I’m concerned about PTSD. When I called, the woman on the desk told me that Dr. Waring knows how to treat it in service dogs.”
“Yes, she’s the best. Learned in a deployment in the Sandbox with her own K-9.”
MJ felt her eyes tear again. So much pain. For dogs, for people, and for everybody left behind.
“Let me go give this info to Dr. Waring. She’ll join you shortly.”
Rob’s eyes met hers, and she saw the same grief on his face she felt inside.
He reached out and caressed her shoulder. “You doing okay?”
“I don’t know. I sometimes think I’ll never be okay again.”
“I know. But we’ve got to get through this. For Maverick. Our healing will help him heal.”
“Really? God, Rob, I’ll do the best I can. Maverick, I want you to be whole again. I want us all to be whole again.”
The door opened, and a petite, brown-haired woman entered the room, followed by the technician. “Well,” she said, having overheard MJ’s words, “we’ll do everything we can so all y’all can get whole again.”
She introduced herself, and turning to Maverick, crouched down next to him on the linoleum floor. “Hey, big guy. How you doing?”
He studied her with a serious expression, and MJ wondered what he was thinking. Did he understand any of this?
Dr. Waring ran her fingers over his body and through his coat, checking for any abnormalities. On a hip, she retraced her path several times. “I can feel the scar tissue close to this hip. Sort of triangular. Probably from shrapnel.” She examined all four legs, flexing them and moving them forward, backward, and side to side. “I feel a bit of restricted movement on this left leg.” She felt the joints and traced the ligaments connecting them. “You can tell there’s been damage, but it seems to be healing pretty well.”
MJ was amazed that Maverick hadn’t made a sound while being manipulat
ed and having his space invaded.
“He’s used to it,” Rob said as if he could read her thoughts.
“He’s probably been poked and prodded by the best the military has to offer,” said Dr. Waring, glancing at MJ.
She listened to his heart and lungs and pronounced both sound. Eyes and ears also passed muster, although it seemed as if Maverick averted his gaze when the doctor looked him in each eye.
“How’s he coping?” Dr. Waring asked.
Rob looked at MJ almost as if apologizing. “He’s had to deal with a lot. His handler died in the explosion that hurt Maverick. They shipped him back to the US, and he spent months in rehab, away from anybody he knew. I finally got there a few weeks ago to pick him up and bring him to MJ. Trevor, his handler, designated her as his new owner, and the Corps agreed. Sometimes it seems like he’s having nightmares or flashbacks. He lets out this god-awful howl at night, and he’s not awake. He hasn’t become aggressive, but we’re a little worried about that. MJ doesn’t have any experience with dogs, and she has to learn a lot about how to handle a service dog, especially a military dog.”
She could feel herself heat as she reddened with embarrassment at being so inept and inexperienced. “And I don’t speak Italian.”
“Italian? I don’t understand,” said Dr. Waring.
“Trevor, his handler, taught him commands in Italian, spoken with a drawl. I’m not from here, so I’ve had to learn how to speak Italian with an East Tennessee accent.”
The vet couldn’t keep from grinning. “I’ll bet that makes things challenging. Where are you from?”
“Durango, Colorado. But I told MJ I’ll stay until she feels comfortable managing Maverick by herself.”
“That’s good. I’m glad he has the familiarity of having you around, Rob. I take it you were around during his last deployment.”
“Yes. It was my last deployment too. I’ve been medically discharged.”
Saved by a Warrior Dog Page 7
