by Peggy Jaeger
It was as if he hadn’t heard me. Or if he had, chose to ignore my words. “The other day in the basement, you knew, you had to know, how much I wanted to kiss you. Take you in my arms and slake this hunger, this need to feel you, hold you against me. You had to know what I was thinking. It took everything in me to rein in the need running through me.”
“What?”
If he’d told me we were twins separated at birth, I couldn’t have been more stunned.
“But I didn’t give in to the craving,” he continued, “because I thought you were married and there are rules about that. Everything I’d heard, every indication said you were. If I’d known then”—his fingers pressed a little harder into my arms—“I would have—”
Shelby’s tech interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. “You can come back in, Cathy. Doc’s all done.”
I wanted to move, but it was like a magnetic force field held my feet rooted to the floor.
He’d wanted to kiss me. Me. Good God, the notion alone was equal parts terrifying and arousing. The truth was written in his eyes, though. He wasn’t playing with me.
“Cathy?”
The tech’s voice penetrated through my paralysis, and I tore out of Frayne’s death grip and bolted back into the exam room.
Shelby stood, observing George from next to the metal exam table, her gaze moving from the intravenous bag connected to a rod above the table down to my dog. A tiny green face mask was secured over his snout, plastic tubing connecting it to an oxygen tank on the wall. His labored breaths echoed and wheezed through the mask.
“How is he?” I laid my hands on his back and head. His eyes were closed, and he gave no indication he knew I was there.
Shelby glanced at Frayne as he came into the room, and then to me. “Not good. I gave him a bunch of meds to try and help his breathing, get some of the fluid out of his lungs. It’ll take some time to see if they work, but I have to be truthful with you; I’m not hopeful he’s gonna come out of this.”
I choked back a sob and bit down on my bottom lip to stop it from quivering. My entire body went numb at her words.
This was it. This was the day I’d prayed would never come.
“Is—is he suffering?”
When she didn’t answer me right away, I knew the truth.
“If the meds are going to work, it should be in a few minutes,” she said. “I’ll know better, then. Stay here with him. I’ve got to go check on a dog I did surgery on a few hours ago. I’ll be back.” She pulled a stool out from under a desk and shoved it over to me.
When she left, I plopped down on it and leaned in close. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. You rest. Let the medicine work.”
I don’t know how many minutes I sat there, stroking the fur on his head, his back. Time stopped moving.
Memories are funny things, and they pop up at the craziest times. While I sat there, listening to my best friend’s jagged breathing, watching the fluid drip down the IV tube, I remembered the day I’d brought George home from a local breeder. I was lonely with Danny gone for months on end and wanted a dog for company during the long days and nights alone. He’d been the runt, surprising the owners when he’d survived, the twelfth of the litter and the tiniest. I’d come into the room where mama was nursing her pups. All but George. He was splayed on his belly, his four legs spread out at all corners. He spotted me and then on those tiny, weak legs, pushed up and tried to walk to me. I lifted him, and I swear he looked right in my eyes and smiled. From that moment, he held my heart, and each year his grip grew more snug around it.
Shelby returned, listened to George’s heart and lungs, and then sighed. “He’s not any better, Cath.”
“Can’t you give him more medicine?”
“I already gave him the maximum doses—”
“Well, maybe he needs more than the maximum.” I knew I was shouting, but I couldn’t help myself. “You’re the one who told me his organs are failing. Maybe he needs more to be able to, I don’t know”—I flapped my hands in the air—“metabolize what he needs.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Cath.” Unlike me, she kept her voice low, her tone controlled. “Look. I know this is hard. You need to come to grips that this is it for George. He’s lived a long life, longer than a lot of Labs I’ve taken care of. He’s been loved by you and spoiled and given a great existence. But his poor body is tired. You need to face it, understand it.”
“I can’t.”
George startled at the pitch of my wail, shocking me into silence. In the next moment, he took a huge, deep, tortured breath, and then his entire body went still. His legs stretched out and relaxed, and his chest stopped moving. The panting echo of his breathing against the mask grew silent.
“Shelby.”
She was moving before I screamed. Stethoscope out, she called to her tech and then moved to George. She listened to his heart, her eyes trained on me. I held my breath, fearful to move or make a sound. My heart was hammering like a pile driver against my ribcage. Frayne pushed off the wall and came to stand next to me, took my hand in his and then slung his other hand around my shoulder, tucking me close to his side. I clung to him like a lifeline.
Shelby dragged her hands all over George’s chest, his back, his abdomen, examining every bit of him. After an eternity, she stood tall and removed the stethoscope.
I knew what her words were going to be before she opened her mouth.
I shook my head. “No.”
“I’m sorry, Cath. I’m so sorry.”
“No.” I pulled against Frayne’s grip, but he held on to me. “Do something,” I pleaded with her. “Please. There has to be something, anything—”
She reached out her arms, and when Frayne let go of me, she pulled me into a fierce hug. With her hands rubbing down my back and holding me tight against her, she said nothing more, simply held me while I cried.
Shock was such a weird sensation. You could either become lost in a fugue state when it occurred, unable to understand anything going on around you, your mind shutting down and your body going numb; or you could become hyperaware of every movement, every sound, every thing around you.
I fell into the latter category.
The feel of Shelby’s fingers sliding up and down my back sparked my nerve endings, the sensation jolting all the way to my feet. The sound of the oxygen whooshing through the mask still attached to George, blared. When Shelby’s tech turned it off, the silence was deafening.
Like being underwater, background sounds grew muffled. My head suddenly felt as if I’d taken one too many sleep aids and was fighting the effects to stay awake.
After a while, I became aware Shelby was speaking. I pulled back from her embrace and pressed my fingers against my eyes. When I swallowed, my ears popped.
“Sorry. I’m okay.” I took a deep, rough breath and cleared my throat. “What do I need to do? Sign something? What? Tell me.”
Shelby wound her hands around my arms again. “Cathleen. Stop. You just lost your best friend. Your baby. Take a few minutes with him. We don’t need to discuss what comes next right this second.”
“No, I know. But I want to.” I squared my shoulders. “Tell me what I need to do.”
The tech brought in some papers for me, and then Shelby and I decided what to do with George’s body. I almost lost control when I made the decision to cremate him, but I was able to keep myself in check long enough to get everything secured.
When she left the room, Frayne asked, “Do you want a few minutes alone with him before I take you home?”
I nodded. With one last swipe down my back, he left me with my best friend.
“I’ll be right outside,” he said.
The tech had pulled the IV from George’s leg and removed the oxygen mask. His body was still and peaceful, and it was only if you noticed his chest wasn’t rising and falling you’d ever think anything was amiss.
I leaned down and hugged him before kissing his snout. When his whiskers tickled my cheek, I bit back a
nother sob.
“I love you, old friend. More than anything. Be at peace now,” I whispered. “I love you.”
Chapter 9
It was deep dark by the time Frayne pulled away from the clinic. We’d run out of my house with just the clothes on our backs, and now the brutal January cold impaled us with its harsh and ruthless bite. Neither of us said a word on the ride home. In truth, I was exhausted. Emotionally, physically, hell, even spiritually. I don’t know if I could have answered anything he asked me with more than a yes or no reply, if that.
Shelby’s tech had given me back the afghan I’d wrapped George in. I held it in my arms as we drove, its warmth doing nothing to soothe my soul or the chill seeping through my bones.
Frayne pulled into my garage and parked. We’d left in such a hurry we hadn’t closed the door. I hadn’t taken my purse, or my phone, or anything, in my haste to get George attended to.
The warmth of the kitchen enveloped me as soon as I came through the door.
George’s doggie bed sat under the table, the cushion rumpled, the empty turkey baster lying next to it. I bit back a sob right as Frayne started talking to someone.
“Cathy.” Maureen flew into the kitchen, dropped a shopping bag on the floor, and then pulled me into her arms. My head fell against her shoulder as she squeezed me in a full body hug.
“What—what are you doing here?”
“Mac called us,” Colleen said as she slipped her arms around me from behind. “We came as soon as we heard.”
I lifted my gaze and found him. He looked…unsure. Maybe even a little embarrassed. I’d told him I didn’t need anyone, but he’d called my sisters regardless.
“We didn’t want you to be alone,” Maureen said. “We know how much you love George. We do, too.”
That was Maureen, the perceptive one.
“Yeah,” Colleen, added. “He’s the only nephew we have.”
And that was Colleen, the say-it-plain-and-simple one.
I glanced at her over my shoulder. “Nephew?”
She shrugged. “You know what I mean. George is family.”
Tears threatened. I willed them back.
“Don’t do that,” Maureen said.
“Do what?”
“Suck it up.”
Perceptive, remember? I stared at her, trying to keep my face expressionless.
“You don’t have to,” she added. “We know how hard losing George is for you. That’s why we came.” She swiped her hands down my arms, her eyes soft and caring as she regarded me. “You’re always the one who stays strong, who comforts the rest of us when we’re upset.”
“You’re always the rock,” Colleen added.
I lifted my shoulder in a “so what?” gesture.
“It’s your turn for us to be that for you. You don’t need to hold it together. Not for us.”
“Yeah.” Colleen nodded. “Let us, for once, take care of you. Maureen brought food, ’cause it’s what she does. I brought wine and chocolate.”
I turned around to her again. “ ’Cause it’s what you do?”
A perfect smile filled her face.
“Don’t you have guests to tend to?” I asked Mo.
“Sarah’s looking after everything, no worries. We’re here, and we’re staying.”
She might be quiet and keep her thoughts hidden more times than not, but I’ve always thought Maureen was the most determined and resolute of us.
“I love you guys, I do, but I’m fine.”
“Cath—”
“Really.” I squeezed Maureen’s hands to underscore the point. “I’m sad, of course. Heartbroken, to be truthful. But Shelby was right. I didn’t want to lose George, and I kept him alive longer than either of us expected because I didn’t want to let him go. What I did was selfish.”
“I don’t think it was,” Maureen said. “I think it showed how much he meant to you. And you know he loved you.”
“Boy, did he ever.” Colleen shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Loyal. Sweet. He followed you everywhere, and every time he looked at you, it was as if you hung the moon for him. If he’d been a guy, he’d have been perfect.”
I shook my head again. She was right.
I pulled both of them in for side-hugs. “I’m glad you guys are here. Thanks for coming.”
“Of course we came,” Maureen said. “You’re our big sister, and we adore you. Now, when was the last time you ate?”
My gaze drifted over her shoulder to Frayne. He was propped against the kitchen counter, much the way he’d been in Shelby’s office, with his arms crossed over his chest, his glasses slung from the collar of his sweatshirt.
“Actually, I was starting to make supper when George…well. We’d been working all afternoon.”
Both my sisters turned their attention to Frayne at the same time. The tops of his cheeks darkened under their intense scrutiny.
Maureen cocked her head at an angle. She could be my grandmother’s clone when she did this. When all of us were younger and Nanny Fee put her all-knowing, penetrating, you-can’t-lie-to-me expression on her face, we’d confess to anything and everything whether we’d done something naughty or not. It seemed Nanny’s powers had passed down to Mo.
“Well, good thing I brought enough food to feed us all.”
“Slade’s gonna be here in a few,” Colleen said. “I texted him when we were on the way, and he said he’d meet us here when he was done with a conference call.”
The back doorbell chimed, and without anyone answering it, Lucas Alexander walked into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he said, by way of greeting, to the room. His eyes grazed over Maureen, settled for a moment, then moved to me. Mo moved out of the way so he could hug me.
“Sorry about George, Cathy. The old guy had a good life.”
“How do you even know?” I asked, my voice muffled against his massive chest.
“Shelby’s tech, Marnie. She’s seeing Pete and called the station to tell him she’d be a little late for their date. Since it was you, Pete told me.”
“The curse and blessing of living in a small town,” I said, with a shake of my head. Lucas let me go, and I stood back from him a bit.
“Including all your dirty little secrets,” Colleen said. She was opening the wine bottle she’d brought. “Not that you have any. Or any of us do. But still.”
“Knock, knock.”
The kitchen door opened again, and Colleen’s face broke into a cheek-wide grin filled with adoration as her fiancé walked in.
He graced her with a loving look, then grabbed me in a hug. “Counselor. My condolences.”
God, I loved these people, this family.
“Well, since everyone’s here,” Maureen said, “let’s eat. Who’s starving?”
“I am,” Lucas said, as he removed his coat.
“You’re always starving,” Mo shot back with an eye roll mimicking Colleen’s to perfection.
“What’s all this crap?” my middle sister called from the dining room. “There’s a ton of junk on the table.” She walked back into the kitchen, the open wine bottle in one hand, napkins in the other, a look of bemusement on her face.
My gaze shot to Frayne.
“It’s stuff we found in Nanny’s storage locker. All that crap”—I shot my younger sister a speaking glance—“is Robert Heaven’s personal effects. Nanny gave Mr. Frayne permission to go through it all to see if any of it was appropriate for the museum.”
“Oh, good Lord,” Colleen said. “I’d forgotten all about poor Robert.”
“Who’s Robert?” Slade asked.
My two sisters clued him in while Frayne caught my eye and gave me follow me head bob.
We walked out of the kitchen and in to the hallway.
“I’m gonna head back to the inn,” he told me, his hands shoved in his pockets again. He cocked his chin toward the dining room. “Your family is here now, and I’m intruding.”
“No, you’re not.”
The
look he shot me was doubtful.
I reached out and wrapped one of my hands around his forearm. He jumped.
“I don’t know how I would have gotten through the past few hours without your help. I really don’t.” I shook my head and dropped my chin to my chest. The sight of Frayne’s old, worn, and battered sneakers shot straight to my heart. I looked back into his eyes.
“Please stay. If for no other reason than I promised you a meal after all the work we did today, and Maureen’s cooking is way better than my grilled cheese would have been.”
Indecision ran across his face. He tucked his chin as he regarded me from under brows that had lowered to half conceal his eyes. “You don’t need to do that, Cathy. I can grab something to eat on my way back at the inn.”
Before I could respond, Maureen popped into the hallway.
“Hey, we need guidance about where to put all Robert’s stuff. Colleen’s about to shove everything back into boxes to make room for the food. She hasn’t eaten anything today, and you know how she gets when she’s food deprived.”
She ducked back into the kitchen.
“Well, now you have to stay,” I said, nodding. “Or all the work we did this afternoon will be ruined. Colleen takes no prisoners when she’s hangry.”
One corner of his mouth lifted up, and those tiny lines in the corners of his eyes deepened.
I squeezed his arm, and when I turned to go, he stopped me.
I glanced down at the hand circling my arm and then up to his face. He’d gone back to being serious.
“I want to say…to tell you…” He swallowed and, like a magnet shunting to true north, my body moved in closer to him.
His gaze darted across my face, searching, seeking. For what, I haven’t a clue.
“I’m…I’m sorry…about George.”
I wasn’t convinced it was what he’d meant to say, but I didn’t push. “Thank you. Again, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here to help.”
“Hey, let’s go.” Colleen’s voice rang out clear as a crystal bell with none of the musical beauty from the dining room. “I want to eat.”
I couldn’t help but laugh because, this was after all, typical Colleen. “Come on.” I grabbed Frayne’s hand and tugged.
