by Lyn Cote
No more putting this off. She marched back to the break room, Bummer trotting behind her. When she found it empty, she realized that Jake had shut himself in his office. Ominous, but it spurred her on. She made a cup of coffee for him and tea for herself and opened the connecting door. She motioned for Bummer to stay and for once he obeyed her, jumping up on the break room sofa. Then she gave her attention to Jake. He sat in his chair behind his desk, just staring.
She halted, studying his expression. He’s far away from here. And not in a good place, either.
“I brought you coffee,” she murmured, approaching him. She set the mug on the blotter in front of him. For a moment, he looked at her as if she were speaking Swahili.
“Coffee,” he repeated.
“Yes, coffee,” she said, sitting in the chair opposite him. “What’s upset you?”
He picked up the mug and stared at her over it, deep worry streaming from his eyes.
She left her tea and moved around the desk. She leaned, half sitting, against it. “Please, Jake, what’s wrong?”
He set down the mug and hung his head. He didn’t reply, didn’t look up.
She thought about pressing him, but decided against that. Not her style. “I’ll go finish with the kennel,” she excused herself. “Sandy had to leave early.”
He held up a hand. “Sorry. I’m trying to decide what to do about something. We’ll talk later. Okay?”
“Okay.” Jeannie walked with brisk, purposeful steps back to the kennel. Keeping busy often proved the only way to fend off worry and concern. Yet a chill spread through her that had nothing to do with this awful winter that had lingered into March. What was on Jake’s mind?
Minutes after Jeannie left him, Jake heard someone pounding on the clinic’s back door—fiercely and urgently. He jumped up and began running toward the sound. Jeannie got there first and opened it. A woman rushed in—Mrs. Duffy, holding Pickles, her pug.
Jake raced forward. “What’s wrong?”
“Thank goodness, you’re still here!” Mrs. Duffy exclaimed. “Pickles is having trouble breathing. Help him!”
Jake lifted Pickles and raced to the nearest exam room. Mrs. Duffy and Jeannie jogged after him. First he turned the dog upside down, which sometimes dislodged foreign objects. “Mrs. Duffy, do you know of anything Pickles might have eaten, something that could have stuck in his throat?”
“I don’t know. I was out having lunch and shopping with a friend today. I came home and found him coughing and gagging. He’d stop breathing on and off, too. So I just grabbed him up and drove here as fast as I could.”
“You did exactly the right thing.” Jake swung the dog right side up again. He set him on the table. Pickles moaned and gasped, wheezed, stopped breathing, then gagged and gasped again.
“Oh, my.” Mrs. Duffy began to weep. “Is he going to die?”
“Not if I can help it. Please come here, Mrs. Duffy. I need you to get a good grip on him around his middle.” Jake donned latex gloves, reached for his thin penlight, and aimed it down Pickles’s gullet. “I see something, kind of orange.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Duffy yelped. “My grandson was playing with Pickles yesterday. An orange Nerf ball!”
“Which—no doubt—your grandson forgot to take home with him.” Jake reached for a long-handled forceps. He petted Pickles, murmuring to him. “Hold him tight,” he told Mrs. Duffy. Then Jake plunged the forceps down Pickles’s throat and latched onto the ball. He yanked it out. Pickles promptly vomited onto the examining table.
And Mrs. Duffy burst into tears. “Will he be all right?”
Jake used a wipe to clean off Pickles’s jowls and face. Then he lifted the pug from the table and returned him to the embrace of his tearful owner.
Jeannie stepped forward and began to clean up the mess on the examining table. Jake drew closer to Mrs. Duffy. Pickles still gulped air, panting. Jake once again tilted the pug’s chin upward and pointed the penlight into his throat. “All clear.” He took a deep breath, his heart still thumping.
“Oh, thank you, Doctor,” Mrs. Duffy said, still dabbing at tears with a tissue, one-handed. “I’m so happy you were still here.”
“Me, too. Pickles is one fine pug.” Jake petted the old dog’s head.
“Do you need to do anything else?” Mrs. Duffy asked. “And do I need to do anything at home?”
Jake shook his head. “Just let me know if he has any more trouble. I don’t think the Nerf ball has caused any swelling or inflammation. It’s too soft. Just be careful next time that your grandson takes all his toys home with him.”
“I will. I will.” Mrs. Duffy lifted her purse from the floor where she’d dropped it.
Jake held up a hand. “I’ll send you a bill for an office visit. Just go home and put your feet up and relax.”
“Thank you again, Doctor. I will.” Mrs. Duffy waddled out of the room. As she walked down the hall toward the door, Jake could hear her gently scolding Pickles about swallowing Nerf balls.
Jeannie let out a sigh of relief. “Wow. That was scary. I thought he was going to stop breathing any moment.”
Jake agreed, gazing at her. His heart, too, had raced. And now he knew he shouldn’t have put Jeannie off—always better to face things head-on. If Mrs. Duffy had waited, she might have come too late. Plus, he’d rejected Jeannie’s overtures of friendship just before.
“I’ve acted like a jerk today.”
She looked up, obviously surprised. “You are never a jerk.”
“Yes, I am. I’m letting my dad get me down. I’m sorry. Really.”
“You don’t owe me an apology. None of us are perfect. What’s the problem with your dad?” Jeannie finished cleaning off the table by spraying it with disinfectant.
“Let’s go to my office. I need to sit down.”
Smiling, Jeannie fell silent and then said in a low serious voice, “The girls and I have been praying for his health.”
“Thanks.” My mom used to pray with us. After her death, I shouldn’t have stopped. “Come to my office. I’ll tell you and you’ll probably make me feel better.”
“I’ll try.” Jeannie walked beside him to his desk. Though there was no one else in the clinic, they shut the door. Jeannie sat in the chair across from him. The only sounds came from the animals recovering in the kennel and even they were subdued.
Bummer scratched at the connecting door. Jeannie rose to let him in, thinking Jake needed Bummer here, too. The basset hound went to Jake and rested his chin on Jake’s knee.
“My dad’s symptoms are getting worse.” Jake stroked Bummer’s ears. “And when I try to get him to call his friend Lewis at Madison, he just blows me off or blows up.”
“That’s hard. Your dad strikes me as a take-charge kind of guy. He doesn’t like being the patient, does he?”
“No.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve thought of talking to Brooke.” He looked directly into Jeannie’s eyes.
She nodded. “Brooke definitely has a good effect on him. But I don’t think he’d take medical advice from her, and she might not want to confront him.”
“That was my thought, too.”
“Maybe you’ll just have to let nature take its course. Maybe he’ll need a good scare. What are his symptoms?”
“I’ve caught him rubbing his chest like he was in pain, but when I mentioned it, he denied it.” Jake began stroking Bummer’s ears again.
Jeannie frowned.
“And a few times he’s stood up and then sat down fast. I think he was light-headed and was afraid he’d faint or fall down.”
Jeannie shook her head. “He’s stubborn all right. I’m not a doctor, but I know those are signs of heart problems.”
“So what do I do?”
“There isn’t much you can do except observe him and pray he’ll see the light. Could he have a heart attack?”
“Yes, he could, and it could be fatal. I’m keeping a supply of nitroglycerin tablets in the house. I’m just afraid I won’t
be there to put one under his tongue and call 911.”
Jeannie sighed deeply. “Maybe you should give Brooke a few of those pills on the Q.T. If he needs one, he probably won’t be mad after the fact that she had one.”
He nodded. “I’m looking forward to her party. I hope it truly will be the end of winter. I usually like winter, but not this year.” He shook his head.
Jeannie looked surprised. “Are we going to her party?”
“Are we going to her party?” he repeated, distinctly puzzled.
“You never said anything. I thought you didn’t want to be classed as a…as a couple.”
“We are a couple, aren’t we? I mean though I’ve never taken you out on a real date.” Was she confused or was he? “I mean I’ve kissed you…”
Jeannie laughed. “Men.” She shook her head. “Are we really a couple?” Bummer perked up at her laughter.
He gazed at her face. She looked back at him quizzically. “I guess I shouldn’t have assumed that we were going together.”
Jeannie sat back in her chair. “Jake, even in this modern age, the man is the one who asks the woman for a date—usually.” She fell silent, staring at him.
He finally got it. “Jeannie, would you like to go to Brooke’s party with me?”
“Do you want me to say yes?”
“Yes.” I will never understand women.
“Then I would be happy to go with you as your date.”
“Thank you.”
Jeannie broke out laughing.
For a moment, he thought she might reach for his hand, but she didn’t. She smiled and then left him, saying she needed to do Sandy’s end-of-day routine. Suddenly he felt as if he’d swallowed an orange Nerf ball. He’d asked Jeannie for a real date and she’d said “yes.” Yes!
Jeannie walked into the mall and nearly turned tail home. Jake had let Brooke know they were coming. And then Brooke had called Jeannie to chat a few days ago. And before Jeannie knew it, she and Brooke had planned a shopping trip together. Today, she’d tried to get out of it. Both the girls had bad colds. But Mike had declared that he hadn’t caught cold in years and that Jeannie should go on, he’d stay with the twins.
Brooke chuckled. “You look like you’ve just walked into a dentist’s office.”
“I haven’t been to a mall in quite a while. I usually just shop in Rhinelander.”
“Rhinelander has some nice shops downtown, but a mall is like going to a carnival. Loosen up. This is fun. A girl’s day out.”
“I haven’t had many of those,” Jeannie admitted.
Brooke gave her a sympathetic look. “I used to have them often, but my husband got custody of our friends. That’s one reason I finally moved here—to be near a few college girlfriends. And start over.”
Jeannie didn’t know what to say to this. “Divorce must be hard.”
“It is hard, and especially hard when one party married for life and the other married just till someone better came along.”
This ticked Jeannie off. “I don’t think you should even say that,” she objected hotly. “Just because your ex was fickle didn’t mean that he found someone better.”
Brooke stopped midstep and stared at Jeannie. “Thank you.” She put her hand in the crook of Jeannie’s elbow and grinned. “Girl, let’s start shopping.”
“Just remember I don’t have much money to spend,” Jeannie cautioned, thinking of Brooke’s obviously designer clothes.
“Jeannie, I work for a living, too,” Brooke said. “I do medical transcription from home eight to ten hours a day. But my passion is finding bargains. And we’re in time for the end, of the end, of the end-of-the-season clearance sales.” With this battle cry, Brooke led her into the fray!
Jeannie tried to keep up with Brooke. However, Jeannie ranked clearly an amateur compared to Brooke, plainly in the semiprofessional class. Jeannie lost count of the stores they swept in and out of. Finally, they hit a department store that had a seventy-five-percent-off sale price sale. Brooke paged through the clearance racks at a brisk pace. Soon Jeannie stood in a large dressing room, surrounded by mirrors and two stacks of clothing on hangers.
“I’ll sit just outside,” Brooke called from the entrance of the fitting rooms. “When you like something, come out and let me see.”
In other stores, Jeannie had already tried on so many clothes that Brooke had rejected that she didn’t know if she would know what she liked or not. Then from one stack, she chose a pair of brown tweed wool-blend slacks. She had almost left them on the rack. They were marked the wrong size, but they fit Jeannie like they’d been made just for her. Nothing pinched and they weren’t too short. She turned before the mirror, trying to see how the slacks fit her from the rear. I like these.
She rummaged through the stacks of clothing and found a cream-colored cashmere sweater with a cowl neckline. She looked at the sales tag. Even at seventy-five-percent-off sale price sale, it was pricier than her usual purchases. Bravely she pulled it on and looked into the mirror. Ahhhh. I have never looked better. Certain that she must be mistaken, she walked out to Brooke.
“Oh! That’s lovely on you.” Brooke rose and joined Jeannie as she stood before the three-way mirror at the entrance to the fitting rooms.
“It’s the wrong size,” Jeannie said for lack of anything better.
“That’s why it was waiting here for you.” Brooke gazed at Jeannie’s reflection. “You are going to buy this outfit.”
“Yes, I am.” Jeannie beamed at herself. And she bought several more. Brooke kept pointing out how much Jeannie was saving. Jeannie and Brooke walked out with two bulging bags of clothing. “But you didn’t get much, Brooke,” Jeannie said.
“No problem. I shop all the time. In fact, I cut up my credit cards, had to. Before I moved here, I started shopping to make myself feel better. And all I did was go into credit card debt. I stopped that, however, and have nearly paid everything off.”
Jeannie glanced over at Brooke. She was seeing a new side—or two—of this woman whom she thought she’d pegged as snooty. Jeannie had been wrong about Brooke—good news all around.
“Now, we have to hustle.” Brooke took her elbow again. “I’ve made an appointment for us to have manicures and pedicures—”
“Oh, no, I can’t afford that.”
“The appointments are at the community college with their beauty culture students, at a fraction of the cost. My treat. And then we’ll do lunch in their cafeteria. Today the culinary arts students are preparing lunch. Should be yummy.”
Brooke steered Jeannie toward the mall door. Something made Jeannie look over her shoulder and she saw—
Jeannie stopped and twisted away.
“What’s wrong?” Brooke asked.
Waves of cold shock vibrated through Jeannie. “I thought I saw someone I know.”
“Someone important?” Brooke asked, peering around.
“Yes.” Jeannie’s emotions rioted.
“Then let’s see if we can catch up with them. Who is it?”
I thought I saw my sister. Jeannie didn’t want to be forced to explain all about Carrie disappearing, didn’t want that cloud to descend over this bright day. But she didn’t want to lie either, so she told part of the truth. “Some girl I knew in Milwaukee.”
“What’s she look like?” Brooke was walking quickly and darting glances at the shoppers clogging the mall aisles.
“Dark hair and dark eyes. Very pretty.” Cold shock penetrated her every vein, freezing her inside.
Brooke and Jeannie looked around the area, but the woman had vanished.
“I must have been mistaken,” Jeannie mumbled. Was that true?
Brooke squeezed her arm. “Come on or we’ll be late for our appointments.”
Jeannie went along, pasting a smile on her face. Just as they walked out the mall doors, she looked back once more. Could she have seen Carrie, or had she just imagined it? The thought twisted her already unsettled stomach.
Later, Brooke
and Jeannie walked into Jeannie’s house. Mimi and Cindy came out of their bedroom. Both of them looked tired and flushed.
“How are you two doing?” Jeannie asked, feeling their foreheads. They were slightly warm to the touch. Thoughts of Carrie still jigged at the back of her mind, but concern for her girls overshadowed it, muted it.
“They’ve been pretty sluggish,” Mike said. “But they took their decongestant and drank lemonade. Didn’t eat much soup at lunch, though.”
“Mom, show us what you bought,” Mimi said, plopping down on the sofa.
“I’ll let you girls enjoy the fashion show,” Mike said, pulling on his jacket and hat at the door.
“Thanks, Mike,” Jeannie called as he left with a wave. Brooke sat down on the sofa and talked softly to the girls.
Jeannie showed the twins the clothing she’d purchased and her painted fingernails. Both girls were subdued, but Mimi’s more marked lack of enthusiasm worried Jeannie most.
Brooke rose to go. “I’ll head home now. See you in a few days.” She waved to the girls and Jeannie, zipped up her coat and departed, too.
Jeannie coaxed the girls to the table for a snack and then put them to bed for a nap. Their resistance to the nap lacked real pep, and soon Jeannie covered them up. She left their room with some misgivings.
Her mind went back to that electrifying moment when she’d thought she’d seen Carrie. Lord, where is she? Is she even alive? Am I starting to imagine her because I’ve prayed for so long without an answer? But if it was Carrie, what would happen now?
Saturday night, the night of Brooke’s dinner party, arrived. Jeannie stood in the bathroom, doing her hair. Of course, since this was the last day of March, winter had started complaining and grumbling, stirring up a brisk wind and spitting snow. A bad storm was heading right for Milwaukee, and Jeannie was glad she didn’t live there anymore. She had never liked dirty city snow.
