A Curve in the Road

by Julianne MacLean

  The next thing I know, I’m on the floor, blinking up at Dr. Payne, who is leaning over me, cradling my head in his hand. “Just relax. Take a few deep breaths.”

  I stare up at him, confused. “Oh God. Did I just pass out?”

  “Yes, you fainted.”

  He must have caught me on the way down.

  “This is so embarrassing.” I move to sit up, but I’m feeling weak and groggy, so I lay my head back down on the cement floor. “How long was I out?”

  “Not long. About ten seconds.” He listens to my heart with his stethoscope and watches my face intently. “Your heart’s beating pretty fast, Abbie,” he tells me. “But you probably already know that.”

  “Yes. I think . . . maybe it was a panic attack.”

  “Have you ever had one before? Have you ever fainted?”

  I shake my head. “No, but it’s been a rough few days. I seem to be falling down a lot lately. I collapsed in the ER when Alan was . . .” I can’t finish the sentence. “And I didn’t eat much today.”

  Only then do I realize that Winston is no longer curled up under the table. He’s sitting up, leaning over the top of my head. I tip my head back to look up at him, and he bends forward and licks my eyelids. I laugh and cup his big, furry, coned head in my hands. Thank heavens he’s strong enough to move.

  “Good boy,” I say. “I’m glad one of us is feeling better. You gave me a good scare.”

  My heart rate settles, and I manage to sit up. Winston lowers himself to the floor and rests his chin on his paws.

  Dr. Payne pats him on the back. “I’d still like to take him overnight, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.”

  With Dr. Payne’s help, I rise to my feet. He cups my elbow with his hand and doesn’t let go.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks.

  “I’m fine.”

  He hesitates. “You should probably get checked out, just to make sure. You’ve been through a lot, Abbie. I think you should see your doctor.”

  I know he’s right, but I can’t think about that right now. I’m worried about Winston, and I’m still reeling over what I learned about Alan today.

  Dr. Payne finally lets go of my arm and turns to Winston. “What do you say, buddy? Do you think you can walk to the limo?”

  “That sounds fancy.”

  The corner of Dr. Payne’s mouth curls up in a small grin. “Even with the animals, limo usually gets a better reaction than ambulance.”

  Either way, Winston shows no interest in getting to his feet.

  “I’ll get his leash,” I say. “That usually starts his tail wagging.”

  I run upstairs, but when I return, Winston is lying on his side again, eyes closed, and Dr. Payne is listening to his heart with the stethoscope.

  My anxiety returns. “Is he doing okay?”

  Dr. Payne removes the ear tips and drapes the instrument around his neck. “He’s the same.”

  I squat down and hook the leash onto Winston’s collar, but he doesn’t even lift his head.

  “I’ll carry him,” Dr. Payne says. “Would you mind getting my bag?”

  “Not at all.” I pick it up, then stand back to give him room. He gently scoops Winston into his arms and carries him up the stairs.

  Seeing Winston like this breaks my heart. He’s so weak in the vet’s arms.

  We reach the kitchen, and Mom and Carla rise from the table.

  “Is he okay?” Carla asks.

  “I don’t know,” I reply. “He’s pretty weak. Dr. Payne is taking him back to the clinic for the night.”

  I lead Dr. Payne to the front door. It’s below freezing outside, and I can see my breath on the air as we make our way to the van. The interior is equipped with oxygen, a folded-down gurney, a backboard, a large wire cage, and first aid supplies.

  Dr. Payne strains to lay Winston down on the carpeted floor. Then he climbs into the back and moves him into the cage that’s bolted to the side wall. He closes the door and secures the latch.

  Winston lies unresponsive, which causes a knot to form in my stomach.

  “Mind if I come with you?” I ask Dr. Payne as he hops out and shuts the double doors. “You said your clinic was closed for the day. Your technicians must be gone. You might need some help?”

  He stares at me for a moment, unsure.

  I continue to plead my case. “Listen . . . I just really need to be with him right now. This has been the worst day of my life, which is saying a lot, and I know I won’t be able to relax if I stay here. I’ll be thinking about him the whole time and trying to resist calling you every ten seconds.”

  Dr. Payne nods at me. “Okay then. I’ll need my jacket, though. It’s hanging in your front hall closet.”

  “Great. I’ll go get it.” I hand him his vet bag and run back up the stairs.

  Quickly, I explain the situation to Carla and my mother as I rifle through the closet. I also ask if Carla will pick me up at the clinic later.

  She says yes, and I ask them to explain everything to Zack when he gets home.

  “He can call me on my cell.”

  I realize I never told either of them that I fainted in the basement, and I’m glad I didn’t, because they’d only worry more. They’d try to convince me to go to the ER tonight, when I need to be with Winston.

  A moment later, I hurry out the door and hop into Dr. Payne’s vehicle.

  He shifts into reverse, and we back out of the driveway.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Dr. Payne’s Victorian home is brightly lit, with lights on in every window, but the clinic is dark. As we pull into the veterinary hospital parking lot, I wonder how often this sort of thing happens, and I hope his family is understanding.

  I get out of the car and watch him slide Winston out of the van on a gurney. He hands me the keys to the clinic. “Would you mind unlocking the door?”

  “Sure.” I lead the way while he wheels Winston across the paved lot.

  A moment later, we enter the treatment area at the back. Dr. Payne switches on the lights and computers. He rolls Winston on the gurney toward a bank of white cabinets and locates what he needs to take a blood sample. Next, he takes Winston into a small digital-imaging room and turns on the x-ray machine.

  “Can I do anything to help?” I ask at the door.

  “No, I’ve got this,” he replies. “But if you’d like a cup of coffee, feel free to help yourself.” His hands are busy, so he tosses his head to gesture toward a door beyond the row of computers. “There’s a small staff room right through there.”

  “Great. Would you like a cup too?”

  “That would be great.”

  Happy to feel useful, I remove my coat, set my purse down on a chair, and head into a small, newly renovated lunchroom with a stainless-steel fridge, a stove, contemporary white cupboards, and an antique pine table with four chairs. The coffee maker is one of those Keurig machines, so it’s easy to find everything and make two cups.

  I peek my head out the door and see that Dr. Payne has already finished in the x-ray room. Winston is resting quietly on the gurney beside him while he sits on a stool and works with the blood samples he just took.

  “Dr. Payne, do you take cream or sugar?”

  “Black is fine,” he replies. “And call me Nathan.”

  “Nathan.”

  I return to the coffee maker and brew a second cup, and then I carry both mugs out to the main treatment area and set his down beside him.

  “Thanks.” Seeming intensely focused, he takes a quick sip, then wheels his stool to a computer workstation and begins typing. “Would you like to see the x-rays?”

  “I’d love to.”

  I move closer to stand over his shoulder.

  “Everything looks good to me,” I say, bending forward to look more closely. “What do you think?”

  Nathan sips his coffee. “I don’t see any issues. But I still want to monitor that infection and see how he responds to the a
ntibiotics. I’d like to keep him overnight.”

  “Sure,” I reply. “But . . . should I stay as well?”

  “You don’t have to.”

  I glance over at Winston on the gurney. “I know, but I’d rather not leave him, and to tell you the truth, I’d prefer not to go home just yet.”

  Nathan swivels around on his chair and looks up at me. “Is everything okay at home?”

  I don’t know how to answer the question—how to tell him that I’m afraid to face my son because I’m keeping a secret from him and I’m a terrible liar. I’m afraid he’ll know that I’m hiding something.

  Nathan stares at me for a few seconds, then bows his head and shakes it. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb question. Of course everything’s not okay. You just lost your husband.”

  In more ways than one.

  Still not sure how to respond, I turn and approach Winston. I stroke his head and rub behind his ears. “It wasn’t a dumb question.”

  I hear Nathan rise from his chair. He circles around the gurney to stand on the opposite side, with Winston between us.

  “I know what it’s like,” he says, “when everyone keeps telling you that they’re sorry for your loss or that it’ll get easier in time. There’s nothing anyone can say, really.”

  I glance up. “Have you lost someone?”

  “My wife,” he replies. “Three years ago.”

  My head draws back slightly. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I shake my head at myself. “There it is again. That word. Sorry.”

  “If I only had a dime . . . ,” he says.

  “For every time you heard it.” I let out a sigh. “Me too, and it’s been less than a week since . . .”

  I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence, so I don’t. I just leave it there, hanging in the air between us.

  “And you have children?” I remember Ruby mentioning something about him needing to pick up one of his daughters at school the last time I was here.

  “I have two girls,” he explains. “Twelve and nine.”

  “Who’s taking care of them now?”

  “My parents,” he replies. “This is their house.” He gives me a playful, sheepish grin. “Yes, I’m a grown man who lives with his parents.”

  I return the smile. “Well, there are worse places you could be. Did you grow up in Lunenburg?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did we know each other?” I ask. “Because I grew up here too. What year did you graduate from high school?”

  “Ninety-seven.”

  “Ah. I was there before your time. I graduated in 1991.”

  He nods and pats Winston.

  “Was your wife from here as well?” I ask.

  “No, we met at vet school in Toronto. We opened a clinic there together, and that’s where we were living when she got sick.”

  I glance up at him, wondering . . .

  “Breast cancer,” he tells me.

  “Ah.” I nod soberly.

  “After she was gone,” he continues, “it was difficult, trying to raise two young daughters on my own and keep the clinic going at the same time. Her parents didn’t really want to be involved. They were older and had just retired to Florida the year before, so my parents convinced me to come home and open an animal hospital here.”

  “It’s a wonderful place to raise children,” I say with certainty.

  “Yes, and it was their idea to renovate this place, since they had more space than they knew what to do with. They’re seniors now, so I pay them rent, which helps them out financially, and they want nothing more than to spend time with their grandkids, so everybody’s happy.” He gives me a sympathetic look. “Listen, it does get easier. It may not seem like it now, but it will.”

  “That’s good to know. Because it’s hard to imagine anything ever being easy again. Not in this lifetime.”

  He runs his hand down the back of Winston’s head. “Just make sure you ask for help when you need it and say yes when people offer. Like if a neighbor offers to mow your lawn, they want you to say yes. It makes them feel good to know they’re helping somehow. It’s just as much for them as it is for you. Let them help.”

  “I’m sure that’s true,” I reply, “but I don’t think anyone can truly help me with the worst of my problems. I’m dealing with bigger issues than just taking care of my lawn.”

  He considers this. “You’re talking about the big bottomless pit of grief? The loneliness?”

  My eyes lift, and I find myself wanting to vent all my woes. Maybe it’s because this man is an outsider—someone unbiased who never knew Alan and me as a couple. “Not exactly.”

  He inclines his head, curious.

  “I learned something today,” I finally tell him as I stroke the soft fur around Winston’s neck. “Although maybe I always knew there was something wrong. I just didn’t want to face it.”

  “What was that?”

  Winston opens his eyes, looks up at me for a few seconds. I bend forward and kiss the top of his head, and he closes his eyes again.

  “Today I learned that my husband was having an affair.”

  Nathan’s eyebrows lift. “Oh God, that’s awful. How did you find out?”

  “Well . . . after he got behind the wheel with a blood alcohol level of 0.33 and nearly killed me on the highway—and Winston too—his secret lover decided it was a good idea to sneak in and out of the funeral home before the wake and then skulk around at the burial, basically alerting me to the fact that he was leading a double life.”

  Nathan shakes his head in disbelief. “Did she tell you who she was?”

  “No, but I already knew her from high school, and my spider senses were tingling. Today she confessed everything.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know, right? It was going on for three years, and he managed to keep it secret the whole time. I didn’t suspect a thing, which makes me feel like a complete fool. Now I’m questioning everything about our relationship. Oh, and on top of that, he recently found out that he had terminal cancer. He didn’t tell me that either.”

  I don’t mean to sound glib, but that’s how it all comes pouring out, and I feel like I’m describing a soap opera on TV. The fact that this is my life is surreal, especially to me.

  I glance up and discover that Nathan is watching me with a frown. Almost immediately, my eyes fill with tears, and I back away from the gurney. I press my fingers to my lips to try and stop the floodgates from opening again, because I’ve done enough crying. I’m tired of blubbering, and I don’t want to fall apart anymore.

  I move to a chair and sit down.

  Nathan drags another chair to face mine and sits down before me. “I’ve heard of bad days before, but this really takes the cake.”

  “I should get a prize.”

  “You deserve one.”

  He leans forward and takes hold of both my hands. “All that and Winston too. No wonder you fainted.”

  I say nothing for a moment, and then I express what’s at the top of my mind. “The problem is . . . I don’t know what I should tell my son. I’m afraid that if I don’t say anything, he’s going to find out somehow or see right through me. That’s why I prefer not to go home right now. It’s hard enough for him to accept that his father was drinking and driving, because that’s not something he would ever do—or so we thought. And Zack’s such a good kid. We raised him to be responsible and obey the law. Drinking and driving . . . there’s just no excuse for that. It’s unforgiveable, right? I was shocked that Alan did that, and I wanted answers. But this—the lies about his three-year affair . . . how do I hide that from my son? And should I?”

  “I don’t know,” Nathan says. “I mean . . . is this something he needs to know?”

  I inch forward slightly. “No, I don’t think so, because it would only cause Zack more pain, and I want to protect him from that. But what if he finds out somehow?”

  I glance away, toward the surgery suite behind a wall of glass, where the lights are turne
d off. “I’m feeling Alan’s betrayal along with the pain of losing him in the accident, and it’s been hell. I wish I’d never found out about the affair. Now that he’s gone, what’s the point? It’s not something we can ever work out. He can’t explain himself to me or apologize or make me feel better about our relationship, which was something he was always so good at doing. Despite what you might think, we had a happy marriage. We never fought, and he was my best friend. We were an amazing team as parents. We were always on the same page. We wanted the same things out of life. At least I thought we did.”

  Nathan shakes his head. “I can’t even imagine what you must be going through right now. Losing a loved one is hard enough, but to pile all this crap on top of it. Seriously, Abbie . . .”

  “I know. It sucks.”

  Nathan sits back and glances at Winston. “You’re welcome to stay here longer if you want to. There’s a sofa in the staff room, and I can get you some blankets. But if it’s Winston you’re worried about, don’t be. You can sleep well tonight, knowing he’ll be fine.” He meets my gaze again. “But I think what you really need to do is go home and be with your family. Does anyone else know about this? Have you told anyone at all?”

  “My sister,” I reply. “I told her everything today.”

  “Good. You need to have someone you can confide in. Someone you can trust.”

  I let out a sigh. “You’re probably right. Thanks for listening. I’m sorry for dumping all that on you.”

  “Don’t be.”

  I inhale a deep breath and slap my knee. “Well. I should probably go home now. Clearly I need to get some rest.”

  We stand up, and I move to say goodbye to Winston. I run my fingers through his soft golden fur, bend forward and kiss his cheek, and whisper in his ear. “Get some rest, angel. I’ll be back for you in the morning.”

  I thank Nathan again, then call Carla to come and pick me up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I can’t deny that a small, petty part of me wants to reveal Alan’s infidelity to Zack—for no other reason than to exact revenge.

  Think of it. I have the power to make my cheating husband pay for his betrayal by posthumously eroding the love his son feels for him.