“Only about four times. All successfully,” he added with a wry smile. “But that doesn’t mean I can save Willow.”
She raised her gaze to his. “I have total confidence in you.”
The pain she dreaded darkened his eyes. “I’ll do my best.” He shifted his gaze to the mare. “It will be a couple of months before we can be sure she’s fully recovered.”
It hung in the air between them. Would Claire stay in Sanctuary another two months? She tried to read his expression, to see if he would feel the same exquisite torture she did at the prospect of having to see him and talk with him because of Willow. All she could find there was concern for the horse.
“I’ll be with her until she’s on the road to recovery,” Claire finally said. That could mean almost any length of time.
Willow suddenly swung her head around to nose at her belly, knocking into Claire. She staggered, only to have her forearm seized in a grip of iron as Tim reached over the mare’s withers to steady her.
“Are you okay?”
“Just surprised. It must be hurting her more.”
“I gave her painkillers, but they aren’t that effective with a twisted gut.” He glanced at his watch. “We should be there soon.”
Claire breathed out a sigh of relief, both for Willow’s sake and for her own. Being so close to Tim and not being able to touch him was pure torment.
She concentrated on soothing Willow and tried to ignore the presence of the man she loved so much it actually hurt. It seemed Tim wasn’t immune to the tension, because he looked out the front window and said with emphasis, “Thank God, we’re here!”
The trailer rocked to a stop, the ramp was let down, and everything erupted into organized chaos. Claire simply led Willow where she was told and stayed with her until she was instructed to move her again. A scrubs-clad veterinary technician led her around Tim’s office building to a new wing in the back where a large door stood open.
As Willow plodded through the door alongside her, Claire gasped at the expanse of shining metal surfaces and vast array of equipment. Tim had not stinted on his new operating room. Between all the high-tech machinery and her confidence in Tim’s genius, she felt a sudden surge of optimism. “Sweet girl, you’re going to come through this just fine.”
“I’ll take the mare now,” the technician said. “There’s an observation room upstairs, if you’d like to watch the operation.”
Claire touched her forehead to Willow’s for just a moment, then relinquished her. She walked up the stairs and found Sharon already in the room, sitting by the window. “I don’t know if I can watch this,” Claire confessed.
“There’s Dr. Tim,” Sharon said, nodding toward the far corner of the room. “Watch him. He saved my stallion two months ago when I thought the horse was beyond hope.”
Tim was garbed in green surgical scrubs from head to toe. He wore safety glasses with a light attached to them and had his hair tucked under a cap. His movements were swift and capable as he injected Willow. It must have been an anesthetic because her knees soon buckled, and the surrounding technicians supported her as she collapsed onto a rubber mat. They winched her onto the operating table, rolling her onto her back and shackling her legs before they draped blue sheets over everything but her head and abdomen. One of the assistants shaved and swabbed Willow’s belly, while Tim inserted a tube down her throat. Then Tim picked up a long, shiny implement.
At that point, Claire turned away from the glass and sat down in one of the folding chairs arrayed along the far wall. “Tell me when they’re done.”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll tell you what Dr. Tim’s doing as best I can. It’s real interesting.”
Sharon was right. It was fascinating to listen to her narration as long as she didn’t have to see the blood.
“You know an awful lot about the insides of a horse,” Claire observed as Sharon explained a technical term she’d used.
“Yeah, it’s cheaper to do as much of the vet work myself as I can, so I’ve learned by watching and listening. It’s a godsend Dr. Tim built this operating room. Before he came, the nearest large animal surgical center was two hours away.”
“Is Tim a good vet?”
“Best I’ve ever seen. We’re mighty lucky to have him here. So what’s going on between you two? It’s something, but I’m not sensing it’s good right now.”
Claire closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the wall behind her. “It’s over. Now that Frank’s gone, Holly’s improving every day, and I’ll be leaving soon. So it’s just as well.”
“You don’t say that with much conviction.”
Claire opened her eyes to find Sharon watching her. “I fell a little in love with him, so it’s hard to say good-bye.”
“You could stay. See what happens.”
“Yeah, I thought about that. I mentioned it to Tim, but he wasn’t enthusiastic.”
Sharon’s eyebrows shot up. “You were going to pass up that great job back in New York and stay here in little ole Sanctuary?”
Claire nodded.
“Well, son of a gun! I’d say you’re more than a little in love.”
“I guess I am.” Claire could feel the truth of that as her heart twisted in her chest.
Sharon folded her tall frame into the chair beside Claire. “Listen, hon, don’t give up. He’s got a big black cloud over the area of love and marriage right now. He just needs some more time to let the sun break through.”
“But I don’t have time. If I stay here, I lose the job in New York, and there’s no guarantee Tim will ever get over his wife’s death.”
“Whoever said anything about a guarantee? It’s like a race. You put your money on a pony and hope they fed him right that morning and the jockey isn’t hung over and no one bumps him and the track conditions are perfect. But if he wins the race, it’s a hell of a high. That’s what I’m talking about.”
“So you think Tim’s worth betting on?”
“He’s down there saving a broken-down, abused mare because she’s your whisper horse. That tells you something.”
Claire sighed. “I’ve just put myself back together after Milo took me apart. I don’t know if I can take that kind of risk so soon.”
“Whatever you decide, hon, I’ll take good care of Willow.”
“Thanks, Sharon. I know that’s a safe bet.” A sudden spate of raised voices came from the operating chamber. Claire half rose from her chair as Sharon strode to the window. “What’s happening?”
“Looks like something’s not right on one of the monitors.”
Claire forced herself to come to the window. Since the blue sheets covered so much, Claire could almost forget that the exposed pink folds of intestines were part of her whisper horse.
She kept her eyes on Tim, who was snapping out a string of orders, even as his hands were deep in Willow’s belly. Technicians scurried around, adjusting dials and checking screens. Tim’s gaze was locked on one monitor, his posture still and tense. For a long moment, no one in the room moved.
Then Tim nodded and bent his head to begin manipulating Willow’s internal organs. The technicians went back to their stations and calm prevailed.
Sharon let out a breath. “I think her blood pressure dropped. Probably a reaction to the anesthesia.”
Claire dropped her head into her hands. “Thank you, God.” She went back and fetched another chair. “I’m going to watch.”
Seeing Tim in the epicenter of all the gleaming, complex equipment sent little shivers of pride through Claire. Gone was the slow country horse doctor. Here he was in command, his team responding to his direction like a well-oiled machine, his movements sure and efficient.
A sense of loss gnawed at her with razor-sharp teeth.
“Look, he’s closing the incision,” Claire said. “That must mean he found the problem and fixed it.”
“Let’s hope,” Sharon muttered.
“Where are they taking her now?” Claire asked as the
y winched Willow off the table.
“To a padded recovery stall where she’ll stay for the next few days.”
“I’m going down there.”
She was halfway down the stairs when Tim pushed through the door. They both came to a halt and looked at each other. He had taken off the lighted glasses and pulled the mask down from his nose and mouth, but otherwise, he was still dressed for surgery. She felt a little intimidated and oddly shy because he looked so different, so professional.
He smiled his usual deliberate smile, and her shyness evaporated. “It went well?” she asked, coming down two more steps so she was level with his face.
“Well, we had a bad moment when her blood pressure dipped, but we got it back up.” He pulled the cap off his head and ruffled his flattened hair. “Once she was stable, I got the colon untwisted, and there didn’t appear to be too much damage. So the surgery went well.”
“Thank you,” Claire said, putting her hands on his shoulders and leaning forward to press a soft kiss on his lips. “You saved my whisper horse.”
She felt his stillness under her hands, and something like fear guttered in his eyes. “Don’t thank me yet. For the next seventy-two hours, Willow is still in serious danger.”
“I want to stay with her.” She pulled her hands away and came down the rest of the steps.
“Claire, I have plenty of staff members who are trained to take care of her.”
“But she doesn’t know them. I don’t want her to wake up and be afraid. I promised her she would never have to be afraid again.”
“When a horse comes out of anesthesia, its behavior is unpredictable. I don’t want you in the stall with her.”
His arms were crossed and his feet planted wide apart. She laid her hand on one of his green-clad forearms. “She didn’t hurt me when she was in agony, and she needs my help now.”
“And you call me persistent.” He shook his head in exasperation, then dropped his arms so her hand fell away from him. “This way.”
Claire followed him down a wide, well-lit hall to a big sliding door with metal bars across its open top. Unlatching the door, he rolled it open.
Willow lay motionless on her side, her legs stretched out in the middle of a large stall with walls covered in thick pale-gray pads from floor to ceiling. There was no straw, just a rubber floor that felt soft and spongy as Claire stepped onto it and sank down on her knees beside Willow’s head, stroking the mare’s nose and neck, trying to pour all her own good health into her whisper horse’s stricken body.
“She looks very peaceful,” she finally said.
“She’s still unconscious.”
Claire resettled herself with her legs crossed and cradled Willow’s heavy head on her lap. “How soon should she wake up?”
“Claire!” Tim tunneled furrows in his hair with both hands. “Even if she isn’t violent when she comes to, she’ll be disoriented. She may stumble and fall on you.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise.” She gave him a serene look and went back to running her fingers gently around Willow’s ears. “You like that, don’t you, girl?”
He turned and stalked out of the stall. “Dave, keep an eye on both of these two. Call me if either one of them moves.”
Claire smiled and bent down to lay her cheek against the mare’s. “I’m here for you, sweet girl. I’m here as long as you need me.”
TIM WAS DRAWING blood from a Newfoundland, but his mind was down the hall with Claire. He could practically feel the strength and determination emanating from her as she stayed by the side of her ailing whisper horse. He envied Willow all that love and attention.
His hands went still.
He could have everything Claire was giving Willow and more.
He forced himself to take his time with the dog, even as his thoughts began to race. A vet tech opened the examining room door. “You asked me to tell you when anyone moved. The mare’s trying to get up, and Claire’s helping her.”
Tim glanced at the clock and swore mentally. It was sooner than he thought the horse should be standing, and he didn’t want Willow hurting herself or Claire. He also wanted more time to think. “Is someone in there with them?”
“Yeah, Ed went in when Claire asked for an extra pair of hands.”
“Thank God she has that much sense,” Tim muttered before he noticed the Newfie’s owner listening avidly. “Mrs. Feury, I need to check on a very sick horse. Dave here will finish drawing Tiny’s blood, and I’ll call you as soon as we have the results.”
With that, he was out the door and jogging down the hallway, his white coat flapping like wings behind him.
By the time he got to the stall, Willow was on her feet. Claire stood against one of the mare’s shoulders, and Ed braced her on the other. The horse’s eyes were still clouded and she swayed a bit, but she appeared calm and without any sign of acute pain.
“Tim, she’s up and she seems fine,” Claire said, her face radiating joy. “She hasn’t tried to nip at her stomach or roll or stomp her feet. You did it!”
He wanted to kiss her, to taste all that happiness and hope. Instead, he pulled his stethoscope out of his pocket. “Those are good signs, but we have a long way to go.”
“I know, but she’s on her feet!”
He listened to the mare’s heart and lungs, then moved back to listen to the digestive tract. “Everything sounds normal right now.”
“Did you hear that, sweet girl? You’re doing fine,” Claire said, giving the horse a hug around the neck.
“Let’s give her a quart of water,” Tim said. “I’ll come back in an hour to run an intravenous line with electrolytes.”
Ed went to fetch the water, while Tim took his position by Willow.
“How soon can she eat?” Claire asked, her hands moving constantly over the horse’s coat.
“In about twelve hours, we’ll start hand-feeding her some soft first-cut hay and see how she does.”
“That sounds good, doesn’t it, girl? First-cut hay is the best!” She turned back to Tim, and he saw tears standing in her eyes. “Watching you operate on her was amazing. Willow is so lucky you’re her vet.”
“Willow’s lucky you’re her whisper human.”
She shook her head. “You saved her life, not me.”
Her certainty that Willow was safe worried him. He couldn’t bear the hurt it would cause her if the horse took a turn for the worse. “Claire, her life isn’t saved yet. A lot of things can still go wrong.”
“I know, but I’m taking joy in every minute she’s still here with me. If I don’t think positively, she’ll feel that. Even if you don’t believe in whisper horses, you know animals sense human feelings.”
The tears overflowed down her cheeks, and he had to clench his fists to keep himself from reaching across Willow’s back to wipe them away. Fortunately, Ed rolled the stall door open as Claire swiped at the tears with the back of her hand.
The vet tech handed Claire the water bucket. She swished the water around so Willow could hear the sound, and the horse dropped her nose into the bucket and sniffed at it, but didn’t drink.
“Don’t worry about it. We can give her fluids intravenously,” Tim said.
“I think she’s just not awake enough yet to know what it is,” Claire said. She put the bucket down and scooped up some water in her cupped hands, bringing it to touch Willow’s lips. “You must be thirsty as all get out, sweet girl.”
The mare whickered and sucked the water out of Claire’s hands. When Claire offered her the bucket again, Willow drank it down to the bottom. She licked the last drops off the metal and nosed around looking for more.
“Can she have more?” Claire asked, her eyes pleading.
“In about fifteen minutes.” He winced as he looked at his watch. He was already over an hour behind schedule, despite all the rearranging Estelle had managed. Perversely, he wanted to stay here and torture himself by being near Claire even though he couldn’t touch her. “I have to go back to my
appointments, but I’ll see you in an hour.”
“We’ll be fine.”
Somehow he knew she would make that true. And he began to think it could even happen to him.
Four hours later, he sat at his desk, eating a sandwich and watching the video feed from the recovery stall on his computer. Claire sat cross-legged on a dog bed someone had brought her, reading one of the magazines from the waiting room. She was wearing jeans and a light-blue T-shirt, with her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked so beautiful it made him ache.
Willow stood placidly in front of her with the intravenous line taped to her neck. Every now and then, Claire would reach up and pet the horse’s nose, or Willow would arch her neck to snuffle at Claire’s hair.
As he watched, Ed came into the stall and said something to Claire, who nodded, stood up, and stretched before she slipped out the door. She must be going home to get some much-needed rest now that Willow seemed stable.
Tim’s pulse sped up at the prospect of Claire stopping to talk with him before she left the building. He wasn’t sure what he would say, but it didn’t matter. He wolfed down the rest of his sandwich as he watched Ed check over the horse and prop himself up against the padded wall. That was odd because Ed knew the video was constantly monitored, so no one had to stay with the mare.
Tim wiped his mouth and hands on a paper napkin and combed his fingers through his hair. Then he picked up a patient’s folder and pretended to read it. Footsteps and voices passed his door, but no one knocked.
After several long minutes, he slapped the folder closed, disappointment clogging his throat. She had left without saying good-bye. He couldn’t blame her. Now that the crisis was over, she probably preferred to keep contact with him to a minimum.
As he shoved away from the desk, movement in the monitor caught his eye. Claire had reappeared in Willow’s stall, and Ed departed. Relief flooded through him. As he stood and shrugged back into his white coat, he watched Claire touch her forehead against Willow’s before she settled back on her improvised seat.
Take Me Home Page 27
