No Place Too Far

by Kay Bratt

  “Are you Maggie Dalton?” he said, his eyes darting around the room to ensure no one else answered. He looked quite panicked.

  Maggie stood. “Yes. Is everything okay?”

  He gestured for her to follow and led her through the doors into an examination room. Woodrow stayed at her heels, then sat in the corner she pointed to. The sight of the cat didn’t even phase him, and he didn’t break focus.

  The doctor used his foot to close the door behind her and then practically dropped the cat into her arms.

  “I—what do you want me to do?” she asked, looking down at the wriggling kitten. It was a calico of dark colors, but she saw that much of its hair appeared to be gone in patches across its body.

  “This cat is suffering from some sort of contagious condition, but it’s different from any I’ve seen. Just hold it while I look through my book.” He turned his back to her and opened a cupboard above the sink, taking a huge textbook from it. He set it on the counter and began thumbing through the pages.

  Maggie held the cat firmly, but as she stared down at it, she wished she had put her long hair up before coming. Now it was like a curtain, impossible to keep from falling over and around the cat.

  She felt confused because she’d thought she was only coming to an interview. Did he want her to prove she could assist? And why had he given her the cat to hold without giving her gloves first? She felt her skin crawl, sure something was creeping off the cat, onto her hands, and up the stands of her hair, ready to burrow into her scalp and make camp.

  “Shouldn’t I have some gloves?” she asked, feeling self-conscious.

  He waved a hand in the air, dismissing her concern. He didn’t look up from the book, though he mumbled a response.

  “Too late for that, but you can wash up when we put her back in her cage.”

  Maggie didn’t reply. Over the years, the office she’d worked for had seen more than its fair share of pets with hair loss. Gloving up was the very first prevention method, and one even the greenest vet student would follow. On that note, where was the doctor’s normal handler? Or his temporary vet tech? What kind of place was this Dr. Starr running?

  Her thoughts ran rampant while he spent the next two minutes flipping through the book.

  The cat fought to get loose, but Maggie held tight, cringing at the vision of its body now totally pressed against her middle, contaminating her clothing along with her skin. She planned to burn the shirt when she got home, and Liam was going to pay to replace it.

  The door burst open and a tiny elderly woman stepped in, looking around until she noticed the cat.

  “Well, I’ll be,” she said, closing in on Maggie’s personal space. “Joe, I was looking for this little one. Why’d you bring her in here?”

  The doctor turned and lowered the mask. He was grinning ear to ear.

  “Mother, haven’t I told you not to interrupt when the door is closed?” he said, tilting his head and giving her a reprimanding look.

  The woman narrowed her eyes, looking from him to Maggie, then back to the cat.

  “Joseph Michael Starr,” she said slowly. “Is this what I think it is?”

  The doctor’s laughter rumbled, and the woman stepped over to him, taking the skin on his arm in what appeared to be a painful pinch. Suddenly he went from a focused doctor to a chastised little boy in 2.4 seconds.

  “This is Miss Dalton, isn’t it?” She looked at Maggie. “Joe! I told you to be nice—we need her. Do you think your little pranks are going to make her want to take the job?”

  Maggie felt dizzy. “Pranks?”

  The old woman stepped closer and took the cat from her, snuggling the cat and cooing to her a minute before looking up at Maggie. “This is Princess. Her five-year-old child companion decided to give her a haircut with her kindergarten scissors. The mom doesn’t trust the grooming places, so she brought her here for us to even it up.”

  Maggie looked at the doctor for confirmation to help clear the confusion.

  “Just a little warm-up joke,” he said. “To break the ice, you know?”

  Maggie’s face flamed with embarrassment. She’d thought for sure the cat had ringworm and possibly even mange. Now she didn’t know whether to feel relief or be mad at being the butt of his joke.

  “I’m Francine,” the woman said. “And if you come to work for us, I promise that at least for a little while, I’ll keep Joe here in check. After that, you’re just going to have to outwit him, which shouldn’t be too hard.”

  With that she—and the patchy cat—disappeared and left Maggie standing there, looking like an idiot as the doctor watched her reaction, his face still holding a tiny smile.

  “Come on, let’s go to my office,” he said. “I’ll try to act like a grown-up.”

  She and Woodrow followed him and she noticed right away that though the lobby was mostly utilitarian, the furniture in the office showed some personality.

  He sat in the chair behind the desk, and Maggie slid her résumé in front of him.

  “Nice dog you got there,” he said, watching as Woodrow settled into the small space under Maggie’s chair.

  “Thank you.”

  “Look, I’m really sorry about that little test, but I’m impressed at how cool you kept it,” he said, grinning once more before turning his attention to the paper. “This place is a zoo even on a good day, and while we all take our jobs seriously, we try to have a little fun every now and then. Otherwise, you go crazy, or so I’ve heard . . .”

  She studied him. Now that the mask was gone, she could see he was in his midthirties or so. He had a young face, even with the series of laugh lines around his eyes. At least she knew where those came from, if the first ten minutes of their meeting was any indication of his usual behavior.

  Finally he looked up.

  “Thank you, Dr. Starr, for bringing me in today,” Maggie said.

  “Call me Joe. And you don’t have to thank me. Liam has become a friend of mine. He told me you could use some loosening up. So really, you can blame him for the mange scare.”

  Maggie didn’t reply. She wasn’t too thrilled that Liam was telling people—her potential new employer, no less—that she needed loosening up.

  “So why did you want to become a vet tech?” he asked, his eyes still on her résumé.

  “Originally I wanted to be a vet. Not a tech,” Maggie said. “I really don’t know why. Don’t all kids want to be a veterinarian when they grow up?” She was glad to turn the subject to anything other than her sense of humor, or apparent lack thereof.

  He chuckled.

  She saw his face change as he read more of her résumé. “But you haven’t been in animal medicine for some time.”

  “I—I know. I took a little detour for a while. Did some public relations. But I’m ready to come back.”

  “Public relations didn’t work out?” He looked up at her.

  Now that he was serious, she saw his eyes were the deepest pools of chocolate brown she’d ever seen.

  Concentrate, Maggie, she told herself.

  “Things got complicated.” She thought of how being hunted like some sort of animal had forced her to pull herself and her son as far from the public eye as possible. And how it made moving to a tropical island she couldn’t afford sound like a good idea. Putting an ocean between her and her biggest—yet most unwanted—fan was indeed the catalyst for her relocation to Maui.

  “Things are always complicated around here. Tell me a little about what you did when you worked for your last veterinarian. Did you draw blood?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m good at that. I also cleaned teeth. Gave medication. I had lots of duties, and the doctor I worked for piled on more responsibilities as I learned.”

  “You didn’t mention cleaning cages,” he said, looking at her intently. “Or do you consider yourself graduated from that task?”

  “Absolutely not,” Maggie said. “I’ll clean cages, bathe the animals—whatever it takes. I’m not too proud
.”

  He smiled slightly. “Well, tell me what all kinds of animals you’ve worked with, or are comfortable working with.”

  “Mostly small animals. Dogs and cats, the occasional wild raccoon or squirrel. Oh, and reptiles and birds. I was the one they always called when an iguana was brought in because I find them fascinating.”

  He raised his eyebrows in appreciation. “Iguanas are illegal to own on Maui. But so far I know you wanted to be a vet when you grew up, you tried a different career path, and now you’re looking to get back in the game. Oh, and you like reptiles. Do I have that right?”

  “That’s right, except I don’t want to be a vet anymore. I wouldn’t be able to devote that kind of time to school. I’m looking for a job that’s dependable and safe.”

  “Safe? Hmmm . . . that’s interesting.”

  Maggie didn’t take the bait, but she did wish she’d answered differently.

  “What about you as a person?”

  What about me? What could he be getting at? She struggled to find something interesting but . . . safe . . . to say.

  “This isn’t an exam, Maggie,” he said. “I’m just trying to get a grasp on who you are. Any hobbies?”

  Was chasing a little human around the house a hobby?

  “Oh, I do yoga,” she said, relieved to find a decent answer. “Or at least I did when I was on the mainland.” She didn’t mention that other than having Woodrow at her side, yoga was the biggest tool in keeping her anxiety at bay.

  He was staring at her too intently, as though trying to analyze her. Maggie could feel her armpits getting swampy again.

  “I don’t believe in all that New Age stuff, but if it works for you, that’s great. As for me, I’ve got the ocean and the jungle to keep me spiritually and physically in shape. Much easier than all that twisting, turning, and chanting in a hot room, if you ask me.”

  She smiled. Her brothers were the same way. They thought yoga was something that hippies did to look cool. They were too tough to get in touch with their inner peace, too, it seemed.

  “What about dealing with difficult people?” he asked.

  “I’ve got plenty of experience in that department.” If only he knew. What could be more difficult than a man relentlessly pursuing you after you’d said you weren’t interested, for months on end?

  “With that strawberry blonde hair and pale skin, you’ll find yourself a target at times.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Some of the oldest families are clients here—the native Hawaiian ones, not the ones who moved here later—and they aren’t too happy with mainlanders or foreigners coming in and taking jobs. Usually since we work with their animals, they keep it under a tight lid, but in times of stress, it comes out. It can get ugly.”

  Maggie was surprised. On the surface, Hawaii seemed like such a gentle place. A happy one too.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “They need tourists and business owners. But they don’t like that they need it. Their attitudes are justified too. It’s a result of their land being turned into some sort of Disneyland for outsiders, ruining much of the natural landscapes to make room for more resorts. And everything they once held dear has become commercialized. The grass skirts, the Hawaiian shirts, even their custom of making beautiful leis with native flowers has been insulted by the garish plastic knockoffs sold all over the world and meant to represent their home.”

  “I’ve never even considered that. It’s just such a beautiful place, I assumed they were glad that other people appreciate it.”

  “All of those things, the items and the dancing, it’s the history of their ancestors and it’s their culture. The hula dances were taught to the younger generations in order to pass down stories that spoke of family morals and values. Most of that was lost during the years of oppression. The majority of visitors don’t know much about Hawaiian history and don’t care to learn. They’re here for vacation—to escape and be pampered—not for a cultural education.”

  Maggie decided right then and there that she’d learn about her new home, whether he gave her the job or not. She wanted to. Out of respect. Maybe curiosity too.

  “It makes me sad that their way of life is being destroyed. Of course, if that comes across as bitterness toward me, I won’t take it personally.”

  He shook his head. “You hit the nail on the head when you said ‘destroyed.’ Or at least, their culture is seeing a steady decline. Long ago the Hawaiian language was banned, along with chanting, hula dancing, and many other aspects of their traditions. Even though the ban was eventually lifted, now only about a thousand native speakers are truly fluent, and they’re dying out too quickly to pass it on.”

  “I thought you’re new here too?”

  “I am, but before I came, I did my research. I want my business to succeed not only for me but in the hopes that one day I can contribute to helping keep alive many of the Hawaiian traditions. That takes money for lessons, schools, and giving to foundations. I’m not there yet, but I hope to be.”

  Maggie considered him. He had dropped his comic side and was earnest. Caring and compassionate. She imagined he was probably a damn good veterinarian too.

  “I’d like to be a part of that vision,” she said.

  His solemn mood changed and he smiled, then looked over at Woodrow. “I’m not going to ask you about your dog. Liam let me know that you have him and that he’s a good boy. Whatever the reason you need him, it’s your business and you can tell me in your own time. I think it’ll be nice to have a normal-size mascot, as long as you can guarantee he’ll never be aggressive.”

  Maggie had already started sweating bullets again as soon as his eyes had wandered to Woodrow. She breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to have to explain, at least not today. Ironically, when she’d gone to find a dog at the shelter, she’d been looking for possibly a German shepherd or a Rottweiler. A dog who looked threatening. But when she’d passed him—a quiet, shaggy fellow just lying there observing everything outside of his cage as though lost in thought—they’d locked eyes and she’d melted.

  Until that point, she hadn’t even thought about what she’d name her new companion, but the name Woodrow popped into her head as she was signing the paperwork. He’d easily gone with her to the car and jumped up in it as though he’d been expecting a ride. He sat up in the seat, staring straight ahead with the most solemn look on his face.

  She’d loved him instantly. And he couldn’t have been a better fit, even if he didn’t look the part of a guard dog. To cement her gut instinct, he’d sailed through his service-dog training, impressing his instructors just as much as he impressed Maggie.

  “He’s not aggressive. He’s really a good boy and just happy to be wherever I am. He’s trained to stay where I direct him, if he can’t be with me. And I may not bring him to work every day. At least once I’m comfortable. I mean—if I get the job. I know you probably have other applicants to—”

  “Can you start on Monday?” he interrupted, breaking her out of her pity party.

  “I—I—” she stammered. “Yes. I can start.”

  He smiled. “Don’t you want to know how much you’ll be making?”

  Now she felt like an idiot. What kind of grown woman didn’t ask the salary, hours, or try to negotiate some employment perks?

  “That was my next question,” she said.

  “Oh? What was your first?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

  Maggie felt her face flush. Was he toying with her?

  “Sorry—I thought I asked you what the hours are,” she said.

  “Liam said you could only do part-time for now. I’ve got a woman to cover the morning hours so she can get her lab hours in. Can you do noon to six?”

  She nodded. Noon to six could work for now—if she really buckled down on her budget—then when Charlie started school, she’d have to figure out something for the afternoon.

  From the hall they heard a laugh, then a string of orders. Maggie rec
ognized the voice from the woman who had taken the cat.

  “So your mother works for you?” she asked, the words slipping out on their own volition.

  He laughed. “Not technically. But since she’s the one who found me this little investment, she thinks she needs to hang around to make sure everything is running as well as her beloved Dr. Kent had it going. Most of his staff have bailed, which is why we put Juniper at the front desk. She’s usually a tech too.”

  “Oh, your mom knew the retiring veterinarian?” Now it was making sense why he had to hire some new staff. Dr. Kent’s employees probably chose to leave when the business changed hands.

  “Right. Dr. Kent was the only one she trusted to treat her little yapping ankle biter. Speaking of the five-pound devil, he’s running around in here somewhere.” He grimaced.

  “Yorkie?” Now she understood what he meant about Woodrow being a normal-size mascot.

  “How’d you know?” he asked, his expression incredulous.

  Yapping. Little. Ankle biter. “Just guessed.”

  “I suppose I should be happy that she’s got him. My parents retired here a few years ago, and Dad died six months in of a massive heart attack. Her little Rudy has been the light of her life ever since. But wow—she’s walking on clouds since she got me to come here. I thought I’d stay in Honolulu forever.”

  Maggie smiled. “I can imagine. My mom would love living near Charlie and me, but it’s just too far from home for her. She has too many ties to the mainland.”

  The doctor nodded, then stood. “Well, I think we’re done here. The pay is eighteen bucks an hour. Stop and give Juniper your email address, and I’ll send over the employment offer. Just reply that you agree to the conditions and you accept the job. Oh, also ask Juniper for scrubs. I’m sure we have some that’ll fit. On Monday she’ll give you a key. I like all my employees to have one in case of an emergency.”

  “Thank you,” Maggie said.

  “For the key? Or the job?” he asked, his voice teasing again.

  “The job,” Maggie replied. “I can’t wait to begin working with animals again.”

  And to start getting a paycheck again, she bit down to keep from adding. She didn’t want to look too desperate.