Saints Among Us

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  “You’re going to need to see a doctor,” she said. “And quarantine that dog,” she added to those behind her.

  “Already taken care of,” Joe said.

  Foster shuffled his feet.

  Carefully, Alice lifted the gauze away from his wound and was gratified to see the bleeding had slowed to a sluggish trickle. She cleaned the area with antiseptic and wrapped the hand in clean bandaging. “Off to the hospital we go.”

  As before, Alice and her patient piled into a truck with Joe and zipped off to the medical clinic. Alice kept an eye on Foster, tucking a blanket around him to keep him warm as a precaution against shock.

  Alice made a beeline for the telephone once Foster had been admitted into the ER and whisked away. She punched the buttons with a trembling finger, eager for the sound of home.

  “Grace Chapel Inn, Louise speaking. May I help you?”

  “Only if you’re prepared to drive to Florida.”

  “Alice!” Louise put aside her usual composure; she sounded like a giddy girl. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to hear your voice. We miss you so much.”

  “I miss you too.” Alice had to clear her throat. “Happy Thanksgiving. I wish I wasn’t missing Jane’s pumpkin pie and all the other goodies I know you’re having.”

  “And we wish you were here with us. But I agreed with Jane when she told you to stay. We know you must really be needed to even consider missing Thanksgiving.”

  “I do. There’s still a steady stream of animals being brought out.”

  “Tell me about your experiences. I got a secondhand story from Jane before.”

  “Where is Jane?”

  “Oh! She’s in the kitchen. Let me go tell her to pick up the extension so she can listen too.”

  It was wonderful to hear Jane’s voice again. Alice missed her sisters terribly. She told them about her little cocker friend with the tumor, about her victory earlier with the shepherd, and about the pregnant rottweiler. She tried to convey how close she felt to Ellen, to Royce and Miranda and Corinne, to Gina, Joe and Mark, and even to Dr. Spade, to everyone else with whom she was working. She was aware that her words weren’t able to paint a true picture, but she did her best. The one thing she did not mention was Foster’s dog bite. That probably was not a detail that would inspire Jane and Louise to believe her declaration that she was safe.

  All too soon, she had to end the conversation. “But I’ll be home in five days,” she assured them. “And this time I mean it.”

  “You’d better be,” said Jane. “I need some reinforcements to help me deal with Aunt Ethel.”

  “Gee,” said Alice. “I believe I hear an ulterior motive hidden in there.”

  Louise laughed. “Oh, it’s not hidden. Alice, she is driving Jane mad. I actually feel lucky that she isn’t speaking to me.”

  “Still?” Alice was shocked.

  “Still.” Louise sounded more resigned now than upset. “Please come home. You’re much better at keeping her calm and focused than either of us.”

  The conversation ended on a happy note a few moments later, and Alice turned to find Joe standing at the door of the waiting room waving the car keys at her. They didn’t linger at the hospital as they had before, because a doctor informed them that they were going to keep Foster overnight. Apparently, there was some question about possible nerve damage, and they wanted to evaluate him further.

  Back at camp after returning from the hospital, Alice found that Corinne had cleaned up the bloody, gauze-littered area Alice left behind when they took Foster to the hospital.

  After providing a brief account of Foster’s treatment, Alice asked, “How, exactly, did it happen?”

  “A freak accident,” Corinne said. “Foster went into the Lab’s run to give him a bowl of food. He tripped over a blanket and nearly fell, but caught himself. Unfortunately, he dropped the food bowl, and when he bent to pick it up, I guess the Lab thought he was taking it away, and wham! The dog nailed him.”

  Alice winced. “Oh, what a shame for both of them.”

  “Yes, because that seemed to be a nice dog otherwise. Now we’re going to have to record that he has a bite history and can be food aggressive, which reduces his chances of adoption significantly. And let’s face it, I wouldn’t want to be responsible for adopting him out to a family and learning that he’d hurt a child, would you?”

  Alice shook her head. “That would be terrible. I wonder if the dog really is food aggressive or was just frightened.”

  “We’ll never know. But he just came in last night, so he has good reason to be pretty freaked out. If you’d been starved for three weeks and someone gave you food, then started to take it away, what would you do?”

  “I’d probably fight for the food.”

  “Exactly. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened. The dog perceived a threat to his food source. I’m going to be watching him carefully for evidence of food aggression as he gets used to being fed regularly and doesn’t feel hungry.”

  Corinne headed for the door. “Back to work for me. I want to tell the rest of the kennel workers how Foster is doing. They’re anxious.”

  “That’s very understandable.”

  “Hey, Alice.” Gina beckoned to her from the doorway of the critical care room. “I have something to show you.”

  Something in Gina’s manner made Alice smile. Whatever it was, it was good news of some sort. She hurried into the CCU. “What is it?”

  “Look.” Gina pulled her to the kennel at the end, the kennel over which they had draped towels yesterday.

  Alice lifted one of the towels and peered in. The rottweiler lay on her side. Nestled against her was a mass of tiny, wriggling puppies.

  “She had them!” Alice was delighted. She knelt and counted. “Seven?”

  Gina nodded. “They don’t look preterm, and they’re all pretty lively. She cleaned them up right away and has started feeding them.”

  “They’re precious.” Something positive like this was what she had needed after the unfortunate bite accident. Alice dropped the towel back into place and stood. “I can see it’s going to be hard to get anything done. I’m going to be tiptoeing over there for a peek every five minutes.”

  Gina laughed. “I know. She—Alice! Look!”

  Alice turned to see why Gina was so excited.

  There, standing in its kennel, albeit on wobbly legs, was the German shepherd Alice had fed the night before. Its tail was waving tentatively back and forth.

  “Oh, baby boy.” Alice went over, opened the door of the kennel door and knelt. The dog took a tentative step forward and pressed his broad head against Alice’s chest. “What a good boy you are. You’re doing so well.” She cuddled the big dog for a little while, marveling. True, she loved animals, but if anyone had told her she would be sitting in front of a German shepherd with a mouthful of teeth inches from her face, she would have refused to believe it.

  Gina came up beside her with a bowl of the soft food they had mixed for the big dog. “Work your magic, O Great One,” she said with a grin.

  Alice chuckled. “As if you haven’t worked a few miracles of your own in here.” She put the bowl before the shepherd but was disappointed when the dog turned its head away. “I know you like this stuff,” she said to the big dog. “You ate it last night.”

  She maneuvered the bowl around in front of the dog several times, but no luck. Finally, Alice said, “If only you knew how much I hate this,” and she scooped her hand into the bowl of food. She held her palm beneath the shepherd’s nose. “See? You’ve got your very own serving woman. Now come on, buddy, let’s eat.” She was rewarded when the dog gently took the food from her hand.

  Behind her, Alice heard a quiet yet victorious “Yes!” and she was sure Gina had just pumped her fist into the air as she was wont to do.

  Someone else entered the room. “How did she get that dog to eat?” Alice heard Dr. Spade’s voice.

  “Isn’t it amazing?” Gina was cheery and enthusiastic. �
��Lots of TLC.”

  Dr. Spade went over to check on the rottweiler and her pups. “Looks like everybody’s doing fine in there.” It was the first time Alice had heard anything approaching satisfaction in his voice and she smiled as she continued feeding the shepherd. “I actually came in here for a reason,” the vet said. “I’m supposed to tell you the meal is almost ready. Round up your troops for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  He turned and walked out, and Alice swiveled until her gaze met Gina’s.

  “Wow!” said Gina. “He was almost normal.”

  Thanksgiving at Grace Chapel Inn was odd without Alice, Louise decided. That was the only word for it. Odd.

  Jane had invited their aunt and her special friend Lloyd Tynan for the meal even though Louise and Ethel were still at odds. Jane had mentioned the meal to Sylvia Songer, whom she feared might be alone on Thanksgiving Day, and Louise had learned that Kenneth Thompson also would be on his own, so she invited him. They had two guests from the inn, an older gentleman as well as a young woman who taught in a private school, whom the two sisters had agreed to invite to share in their feast. Then Jane, in a burst of magnanimity that Louise suspected she was beginning to regret a bit, had called Florence and Ronald Simpson. Having no children of their own, she suspected they did not have plans. When Florence accepted with alacrity, she realized her suspicions had been correct.

  They decided to serve relatively traditional fare. Jane had stuffed and baked a turkey and was now whipping buttermilk potatoes into a frothy delight. Her special cranberry-orange sauce was ready to go on the table, as were several vegetables and homemade honey-wheat biscuits. She had made both pumpkin and lemon-meringue pies, as well as a selection of cookies for those too full for an entire slice of pie. Louise felt a bit guilty for not helping with more of the preparation, but Jane assured her she didn’t need to. And, thought Louise, watching her little sister efficiently buzzing from one dish to another, Jane was so very good at it.

  Louise had set the table with their mother’s best china, a soft, lovely Wedgwood pattern, and was filling a crystal pitcher with water when the doorbell rang.

  “Our first guests.” She set the pitcher aside. “I’ll get that.”

  Florence and Ronald Simpson were the first arrivals. As she took their coats, Louise could see Ethel Buckley and Lloyd Tynan just pulling into the driveway. She hurried back to the kitchen.

  “You’ve got to come in here,” she said to Jane. “Aunt Ethel and Florence in the same room? Are we prepared for that? And I certainly can’t help since Ethel isn’t speaking to me.”

  “I talked with Aunt Ethel,” Jane assured her. “She promised to try to make Florence feel that her contributions to the crafts fair are important.”

  “I wish Kenneth would get here,” Louise said fervently as the doorbell rang the second time. “He handles those two better than anyone else I know, even Alice.”

  The sisters were silent for a moment, thinking of their absent one. Alice was the acknowledged peacekeeper in the family and beyond, with her soft demeanor and kind words. Louise sometimes wished she could be more like Alice. But honestly, there was simply no reason for some of the silly things people did, and she had limited patience. Alice had been born to soothe, which was one reason she was such an excellent nurse.

  “Happy Thanksgiving!” Louise exclaimed.

  “And the same to you,” Lloyd returned. “Thank you for inviting me.

  Ethel only mumbled a holiday greeting, and Louise’s smile faded. Avoiding her aunt’s eyes, she beckoned the couple into the foyer. “Let me take your coats. Kenneth, do come in,” she added as she spotted the pastor approaching the door. “Here, let me take your coat and you can go into the drawing room with these two.” In addition, you can play referee, she thought, although she refrained from voicing it aloud.

  Kenneth smiled at her, and as Ethel and Lloyd preceded him into the drawing room, he said quietly, “I saw Florence and Ronald pulling in, and I notice you’re acting nervous. Nervous is unlike you, Louise. Are Ethel and Florence having another tiff?”

  “Not a tiff, exactly,” she hedged, unwilling to involve her friend in a family concern. “It’s just that the crafts fair has created some tensions.”

  “Ah. I see.” He turned to enter the drawing room, then looked back at Louise and smiled. “I shall offer my services as a buffer, for what they are worth.”

  Everyone else arrived in short order, and Louise was kept busy introducing their two inn guests to the others. Ethel and Florence, thankfully, seemed busy chatting with other people and had not exchanged more than a “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Several times, Louise glanced at her aunt, but Ethel was chatting in animated fashion with others at the table and seemed unconcerned that she had not spoken to Louise. Resentment and sadness churned in Louise’s breast. She realized she had been too forceful with her suggestions and too abrupt in her criticism, but she had apologized. Ethel had made no effort to do anything of the sort, and yet she continued to behave as if Louise was the pariah. Once again, Louise wished Alice were here. Even if she could not do anything about their aunt’s attitude, Louise would have welcomed the support.

  Jane bustled back and forth, setting steaming bowls of vegetables on the table. Finally, she entered with the pièce de résistance, her marvelous turkey on a large platter, surrounded by greens and radishes for color. It had been carefully sliced so that the meat could easily be forked onto plates without disturbing the handsome effect.

  “What a lovely meal you’ve prepared, Jane,” said Ethel. “It’s almost a shame to disturb it.”

  “Oh, wait! I have a digital camera,” Florence said. “Let me take a picture before we sit down.” She snapped several shots in short order, and then the guests took their places.

  “This way, Alice will be able to see how our meal looked,” said Ethel.

  “After the meal, we could take a group picture,” suggested Florence. “So you girls could show it to her when she returns.”

  “An excellent idea.” Ethel beamed at Florence.

  Louise could not help sliding a glance at Jane as Kenneth invited them all to bow their heads. Jane winked and grinned. It just went to show, Louise thought, that there was no predicting a person’s behavior.

  Thanksgiving at Camp Compassion was odd without her family, Alice decided. That was the only word for it. Odd.

  The volunteers had set up two long tables end-to-end out in a grassy area. Along one side, a third table was placed to serve as a buffet. Riley had directed Miranda and Royce to cover the tables with sheets of white butcher paper with the shiny side up, for effect.

  Diners were asked to bring their own chairs and drinks. Accordingly a variety of camp stools, lawn chairs and folding chairs were placed haphazardly, while water bottles, fruit juices and energy drinks dotted the tables.

  Paper towels served as napkins, and there were paper plates and plastic utensils. But the meal itself was the most radical departure from that to which Alice was accustomed.

  The meal had been provided by a vegetarian chef who volunteered his services and supplies after he’d read about the animal-rescue efforts online. The main dish, served in place of turkey, was butternut squash with whole-wheat, wild rice and onion stuffing. Alice knew the ingredients because on the buffet table where the food was set out, there were small placards indicating what each of the dishes was. There was something labeled a “Jerusalem Artichoke Salad.” Baked maple-and-tarragon sweet potatoes, cranberry-apple sauce, and wine-and-honey-glazed brussels sprouts were among the other offerings. Finally, at the end of the table, to Alice’s immense delight, was a familiar sight, pumpkin pie.

  “This is amazing,” Ellen said as they took their seats.

  “Way beyond amazing, Mom.” Miranda thanked her brother as he unfolded her stool for her. “How much cooler could it get than to have a vegetarian meal here?”

  “I have to confess it never even occurred to me,” June said. “I’ve been making turkey
and stuffing for my kids, my brothers and their families for years. I guess I just assumed we’d have turkey.”

  “This is exciting.” Alice picked up her fork and sniffed at the stuffing. “Yum.”

  Mark sat down on her other side, his own plate loaded with some of everything. “I’m starving.”

  She laughed.

  Then Joe tapped on the end of the table. “All right, everybody. Someone said we need a prayer. But right now, around this table, there are people of at least three different faiths and probably more. I know this interesting fact because I asked.”

  There was a ripple of laughter around the table.

  “So I’m going to keep it simple,” Joe said. “Those of you who aren’t believers, feel free to ignore us. I respect everyone’s right to his or her own beliefs. Now, for those who wish to pray, let us bow our heads.”

  People began to clasp their neighbor’s hands, although Joe had not suggested it. Heads bowed. Alice noted, just before she closed her eyes, that every single person at the table was participating.

  “Dear God,” Joe said, “we came here from different walks of life, from different faiths, different ethnicities, educations, careers and economic backgrounds. But we all came here because we believe. We believe we were called by You to care for Your creatures. We believe You are with us as we minister to animals in need. We believe Your hands guide us to find and heal them. We believe Your love flows through us when we share that love with them.

  “We ask You to guide us to animals in need. We ask You to make healing instruments of our hands and help us stay strong despite the overwhelming scope of this disaster. We ask You to keep us safe as we travel long distances back to our homes, and we ask You to move the hearts of more people to join our efforts.

  “Thank You, God, for each one of these very special people and for the bounty of this feast we share today. Thank You for families who understand why we can’t be with them. Thank You for the camaraderie we share and the bonds that will hold us together forever from this day on. Thank You for all the lives we have saved through Your help. And keep those who didn’t make it close in Your comforting embrace now, beyond pain and fear.