More silence. Carl certainly wasn’t a chatterbox, but now it bothered her that he was completely ignoring Anna.
“His name is Carl.” Rachel’s voice was calm but laced with venom. “He’s the man who killed your brother.”
There was a common gasp around the room. Everyone looked at her and Carl with concern. No one knew quite what to do. People didn’t say rude things like that in waiting rooms—at least not here in Amish and Mennonite Country.
Anna glanced at her, puzzled. Then she turned back toward Carl. “You killed my brother?”
“Yes,” Carl said in a low voice, “I did.”
“Are you sorry for it?” Anna asked.
“I’m very sorry,” Carl said.
“That’s all right, then,” Anna said brightly. “Bertha says we must forgive people if they are sorry. Do you want to pet my kitty?”
“Anna…” Rachel was furious at him, exasperated with Anna, and embarrassed that this scenario was playing out in a room filled with strangers.
“Well,” Anna turned toward her, “he said he was sorry!”
Rachel furiously flipped through her magazine without reading a word. It gave her someplace to focus her eyes. With all her heart, she wished Anna’s stupid cat hadn’t gotten sick and she hadn’t been forced to sit in this stupid waiting room for half the day. She could not believe her bad luck in Carl Bateman showing up.
Leave it to Anna to strike up a conversation!
The time dragged on. No one in the waiting room spoke, even to one another. It was as though everyone was too embarrassed to speak. At least it was a small comfort that she didn’t know any of them. On the other hand, she was wearing her Sugarcreek Police uniform, so if anyone wanted to find out who she was, it wouldn’t be hard.
Anna’s name was finally called. The cat had some sort of feline flu that Doc Peggy gave them meds for. It only took a few minutes, even with Anna chattering away with her old friend about her cat. When they left, Rachel caught a glimpse of Carl sitting on a stool in one of the examination rooms, his hand resting on his dog’s head.
Their eyes locked for a second. She tried not to be affected by the sadness she saw in those eyes, because she didn’t care if he was sad. His sadness couldn’t touch the amount of sadness she’d experienced because of his actions.
Her bitterness at Carl combined with the slight nausea of pregnancy she’d been experiencing. It created so much bile to rise in her throat that she had to skitter off into the restroom to keep from accidently ruining the vet’s shiny floor. As she fisted her hair into a ponytail and bent over the commode, all she could think about was how this was all Carl’s fault.
Chapter 37
Carl had never been inside a civilian doctor’s office. As a kid, it never occurred to his mother to take him. Before he was imprisoned, he hadn’t bothered as an adult. As a prisoner, he got occasional checkups from the prison physician. He had, on the whole, always been remarkably healthy for a sixty-two-year-old man.
There had been a program on TV about how children who were exposed to a few germs in their childhood tended to develop a healthy immune system. He guessed that since he’d spent a large part of his life sleeping in the dirt with stray animals, he must have built up a walloping good immune system—if what the TV program said was true.
He had never been in a veterinarian’s office either, and he wished he hadn’t come now. Running into Rachel was hard. Trying to respond to Anna while Rachel listened and judged every word was harder. He wished he could have felt freer to talk with that gentle little soul about her sick pet.
He’d had a cellmate once who was similar to Rachel’s aunt, with a child’s mind inside an adult’s body. Carl had always wondered how bad of an attorney the man’s family had engaged for his cellmate to have ended up in prison with real criminals.
He’d tried to protect the guy when he could. It wasn’t easy. Men with slow minds tended to become targets for men with small minds, and there were a lot of men in prison with small minds.
There was a soft knock on the door. A woman vet came bustling in and shook his hand.
“I’m Doctor Peggy Oglesby,” she said. “People call me Doc Peggy.”
“Hi. I’m Carl, and this is Shadow.”
Her hair was cut short, probably for convenience. Her nails were also short and unpolished. She did not wear a white coat. Instead, she wore a plaid flannel shirt over a faded Ohio State T-shirt and work boots. Although the doctor had a large presence, she was actually a smallish woman who barely came up to his chin. He wondered how she managed to care for the larger animals.
“I apologize for the smell,” she said. “A farmer friend had a cow in trouble this morning. I’m afraid I got into a bit of manure. Had to come straight here or people would have been sitting on each other’s laps in the waiting room.” Doc Peggy laughed, he smiled, and she stooped to take a good look at his dog. “Tell me about Shadow.”
“I found him behind the Dumpster where I live. He was skin and bones. It took a while before I could get him to trust me.”
“Well”—she fondled the dog’s fur as she spoke—“he looks healthy and fit now. You’ve done a great job.”
Shadow, happy with the attention, immediately put both paws on her shoulders and nearly knocked her over.
“Shadow! Sit!” Carl commanded. The dog sat. Head erect, it stared straight ahead at the wall.
The doctor perched on a small stool and regarded the dog with interest. “Did you teach him to obey like that?”
“Yes.”
“What else can he do?”
Carl put Shadow through his small repertoire of tricks. The dog shook hands, rolled over, and played dead.
“He walks with a lead really well too,” Carl offered.
“That’s impressive,” Doc Peggy told him. “When some of my patients come through the door, I often wonder who is master of whom. The pets frequently seem to be the ones in charge.”
“He was easy to train,” Carl said, “It didn’t take long to teach him a few things.”
“He looks like he’s mostly German shepherd,” she mused. “With some mountain cur thrown in, perhaps?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Nice combination,” she said. “You’re going to have one loyal dog there. Let’s get him up on the table where I can take a better look at him.”
Carl gave a low whistle. Shadow minded him perfectly and leaped up onto the examining table.
“Seriously?” the doctor laughed. “Now you’re just showing off.”
“Maybe a little.”
He liked this woman. She appeared to be in her late fifties, with faded blonde hair and kind blue eyes. No makeup, but she had dark circles beneath her eyes as though she could use a good night’s sleep. She seemed compassionate but weary. The only jewelry she wore was a small silver tree hanging from a thin silver chain.
“Shadow looks perfectly fine to me. My technician will be in soon to take some blood and give him his shots. You be a good boy, fella.” She gave Shadow a hug, and the dog surprised Carl by licking her face. “Funny thing about rescued animals,” she said. “They often tend to be more loyal than others. It’s as though somehow they realize what you’ve done for them and they never forget it.”
“It’s nothing compared to what they’ve done for me,” Carl said under his breath, as she started to leave the room. She hesitated at the door then seemed to make up her mind about something.
“You aren’t looking for a job, by any chance, are you?” Doc Peggy asked.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Oh, it’s just that I don’t run across too many people who have the ability to take an abandoned animal and train them this well. It’s obvious Shadow trusts you, and I could really use another technician.”
Carl felt his heart begin to thud. A job? Working with animals? He couldn’t be so lucky! Then the dreaded question came immediately—the question he knew would stop any possibility of a job with her.
He wanted to lie, but he couldn’t. There would be forms to fill out, background checks made… There was no way this kind woman doctor would ever feel safe around him after she knew.
“I worked with the prisoner dog-training program,” Carl said.
She didn’t flinch. “What were you in for?”
“Murder.” He stared at Shadow, waiting for her rejection.
“How long were you in?”
“Twenty years.”
“I’ve heard about the prisoner dog program. They don’t let just anyone participate.”
“No, ma’am, they don’t.”
She pondered this information for a moment. “Where do you live?”
“The preacher down the street helped get me a job. I work as a janitor for his church, and I live there.”
“Inside the Mennonite church?”
“Yes.”
“I know that church, and I know the preacher. If things worked out, do you suppose George would let you come help me part-time?”
Carl felt a jolt of hope. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. There’s not enough work at the church to keep me all that busy, but…are you sure?”
“I’m really tired of hiring kids.” Doc Peggy sighed. “Their schedules are so complicated that I end up feeling more like a social director than a boss. Problem is, they’re all I can afford. I can only pay minimum wage. I know that isn’t much, but it would be wonderful to have someone with real experience—someone who actually knows something. I don’t suppose you’d be interested…?”
Interested? He’d already deep-cleaned the church enough that he hardly had work to fill a couple of hours a day. The idea of getting to work with dogs in a real veterinarian’s office would be a dream come true. He could learn so much here.
A young male technician walked in.
“I have another patient waiting,” the doctor said before she left, “but think it over. If you’re interested, stop by the front desk and fill out an application before you leave. I can probably give you twenty hours a week.”
Carl watched his dog being cared for by a kid so young, he still had blemishes on his face. He also wasn’t very good at what he did. Shadow yelped and bit the air near the kid’s hand when he gave him the shot.
And then he realized there was one other thing Doctor Oglesby needed to know before he applied for the job. She was in the hallway filling out a chart when he and Shadow left the examination room.
“I hate to say this,” Carl said, “but I can’t take the job.”
“Oh?” She looked up from her clipboard. “Why not?”
“I had a drug problem before I went in.”
“Do you have a drug problem now?”
“No. I kicked it a long time ago.”
“Great. Come in on Monday and I’ll have a lab coat ready for you.”
“Just like that?”
“Unless there is a problem with your preacher or parole officer when I call them.”
“No, they’ll probably be fine with it.”
“Leave their contact numbers with the office staff when you finish your application. I’ll call both of them tonight, and I’ll be sure to mention that we keep all our drugs safely locked up. I’m the only one who handles them.”
“I appreciate what you’re doing, ma’am,” he said, “more than you’ll ever know…but why are you willing to take a risk on an ex-con?”
“All the reasons I mentioned earlier.” She hesitated. “And because I know what it feels like to be a rescue.”
Chapter 38
“All it needs is a sign out front, some decorations, and a couple waitresses before we’re ready to go,” Darren said.
“That’s all, huh?” Joe said. “What about some recipes and a little experience with running a restaurant?”
“You don’t need experience when you’ve eaten in as many restaurants as I have,” Darren said. “I know what works. I know what people want. Trust me, brother, this place is going to be a success.”
“It’s probably going to be a disaster,” Joe said. “But since it’s your money we’re losing for a change, I’ll give it a try and see how it goes. I don’t have all that many options right now. I’d really rather not sell insurance if I can find a way to avoid it.”
“Insurance?”
“Yeah. They seemed to think a former pro ballplayer would make a dandy salesman.”
“Oh, Micah.” Darren sighed. “You’re in even worse shape than I realized.”
The building was old but well-kept. It had been a restaurant once before, so the wooden booths were already in place. The kitchen had ovens and a couple of fry baskets, and Darren had made arrangements for a commercial refrigerator to be delivered.
“We’ll need an oversized grill for the burgers,” Darren said. “I’ll scout around and see if I can find one that’s not too used. By the way, it’s not just my money that I’m putting into it. I’m putting in my heart and soul too. If it succeeds, it could make a real difference for our family. Please don’t be negative.”
Joe saw the need in his brother’s eyes and felt his own attitude changing. Deep down he was excited by the idea, but he was afraid to hope that it might actually become a success. After all, most new businesses failed, didn’t they?
“I’ll help you run the restaurant, Daddy,” Bobby said.
“Of course you will, buddy.” Joe ruffled his son’s hair. “You’ll be a big help.”
“I’ve already made some inquiries about supplies,” Darren said. “I figure we’ll keep things as local as possible. It’ll cut down on shipping expenses, and we can advertise that the food we serve is locally produced. That seems to be a big thing to a lot of people these days.”
“Sounds good to me,” Joe said. He tried not to be surprised at how much thought Darren had already put into it.
His brother continued. “We can use local beef, we have tons of locally made cheeses around here, and the buns we’ll use are baked fresh daily right here in Sugarcreek. Vegetables can be seasonal most months, and I’m thinking of Mom’s potato salad as one of the side dishes.”
“She did make excellent potato salad,” Joe agreed. “Whenever we actually had refrigeration.”
“There’s a place near here that makes potato chips too. And of course, we have Lydia’s pies. Those things would bring in customers even if we didn’t have anything else to serve.”
“What’s in here?” Bobby wandered into an adjacent room.
“That’s where the bar is,” Darren said.
“What’s a bar?” Bobby asked.
Darren looked to Joe for an explanation.
“It’s where people go to drink and talk.”
“I like to drink and talk!” Bobby said. “Can we have my favorite?”
“What’s his favorite?” Darren asked.
“He had some homemade root beer at the Bulk Foods Store the other day and loved it. I think it actually had the name sarsaparilla on the old-fashioned labeling.”
“Do they make that locally?”
“I think so.”
“Hmm.” Darren stared at the mirrored shelves behind the bar. “I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“I wonder what would happen if we brought in all sorts of boutique-type sodas from Mom-and-Pop-type factories. Old-fashioned ginger ale, sarsaparilla, crème sodas, whatever we could find. We could have Pepsi and Coke products too, of course, but think of all those different-colored sodas up there on the shelves with the mirroring behind them. Could be something to look into.”
“Sounds like an old-fashioned soda counter,” Joe said. “They already have that sort of thing at Lehman’s up in Kidron.”
“And look how successful Lehman’s is,” Darren said. “But that’s a long way to drive for gourmet soda pop. I think people would love it. They could come through the door for a burger and end up having a handmade root-beer float to wash it down. Or a cucumber-flavored soda
, if they wanted.”
“Cucumber?”
“It’s a thing,” Darren said. “So is rhubarb and lavender. I’ve had them both. They’re not bad.”
“How on earth do you know these things?”
“My misspent youth,” Darren said. “I’ve been in some very odd places, brother.”
“Evidently.” Joe looked up at the ceiling, which had several worrisome brown stains. “It’s going to be a lot of work.”
“When did you ever shy away from hard work?” Darren asked.
“No offense, but it wasn’t me I was thinking about,” Joe said. “I have to be honest with you. I’m afraid you’ll get this started and then fade away.”
“I don’t have any place to fade to,” Darren said. “I’m betting my last penny on this place, and it’s obvious that I can’t use you as my private ATM anymore. I have to make this work.”
“I understand,” Joe said. “But to me it feels like being a young ballplayer again, and suddenly having to pitch for a major-league game with absolutely no experience.”
“Well, then, you should feel right at home, Micah.”
Chapter 39
Rachel safely delivered Anna and Gray Cat back to Lydia and Bertha. She had not stopped for ice cream. She had not been in the mood for ice cream after that scene in the vet’s office. Anna, sensing Rachel’s tension, mood had not asked.
Things were stiffly polite between her and Bertha when she dropped Anna off. She checked in with Ed, then went on patrol in her squad car.
It was a quiet day in Sugarcreek as she drove down Main Street, which meant she could let her mind wander. The problem was, her mind had been wandering the same tired path lately to the point that it had worn a groove so deep that it was hard for her to see out.
She and Joe were decent, good people. It really wasn’t fair how much their lives had been impacted by two criminals. Henrietta had managed to devastate Joe financially, and having Carl nearby was turning Rachel into a person she didn’t like much. Rachel was pretty sure it wasn’t doing her marriage any good, either.
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