No Place Too Far

by Kay Bratt

  Maggie hesitated. Technically Quinn wouldn’t be around every minute. Could she leave Charlie knowing it would be a stranger who was keeping him safe?

  “You know how he loves it here,” Quinn added.

  “You’re right,” Maggie said, trying to keep the defeat out of her voice. She wasn’t fond of imposing on Quinn. But it was for Charlie’s best interest.

  Maggie sighed, thinking of her sparse finances. “What do you think she’ll charge?”

  “I’m sure you were going to pay the day care more than she was making as a housekeeper, but I’ll negotiate a fair price with her. I have a feeling she’ll be so pleased to have a job again that she’ll be easy to work with. I can have her come over early in the morning,” Quinn said. “You can meet her, and then if you like her, we can offer her the job. If you don’t, I’ll keep up with Charlie for the day and until you figure out something. But I think it’s going to work out.”

  “Okay,” Maggie said.

  That was one worry down.

  A million more to go.

  Chapter Nine

  On Monday, Maggie was sitting in the parking lot at half past eleven, dressed in scrubs that were half an inch too short, her feet already sweating in her new Crocs. Her hands left moist prints on the steering wheel as she breathed in and out, closing her eyes to focus on calming her spirit.

  It’s just a job, she told herself. You’ve done this sort of thing before. You can do it again. You won’t make an idiot of yourself. You are competent and professional.

  She released a long breath. Positive thoughts weren’t working this time. Beside her on the seat was the poke plate for Dr. Starr, and it didn’t smell all that delectable to her. Her stomach gurgled, way down low, and Maggie hoped it wouldn’t revolt. It would be just her luck to get inside, begin to assist Dr. Starr, and then have to run and lock herself in the restroom.

  “Woodrow,” she said softly.

  He leaned over the console, setting his head on her arm. Maggie buried her face in his fur, inhaling the sweet scent of grass. She felt her pulse slow. Her breath came easier.

  She hated the toll that anxiety took on her, making her feel like someone other than herself. It wasn’t just the new job. That was enough to make her sweat, but now she had the added stress of worrying about Charlie’s safety. Her calls to the Victims’ Services Department had gone straight to voice mail.

  The detective, David, had promised to call her as soon as he had some answers.

  Waiting wasn’t an easy thing for Maggie to do. She thought of Charlie, excited when she’d dropped him off. She’d explained to him that he couldn’t bother Quinn or the guests during the day and that all his needs were going to be met by Rosa. The girl was at the hotel bright and early, and Quinn was right: Charlie had taken to her immediately, and Rosa was thrilled with her new position. Maggie prayed it would work out.

  Life had gotten so complicated.

  Again.

  “Woodrow, what do you think?” She looked at him. “Maui was supposed to be our safe haven. What happened?”

  He sat in the passenger’s seat, his expression serious as usual, though she thought she detected one eyebrow raise just a fraction as though to say, You talking to me? He didn’t care what she did as long as he was there with her. She hadn’t broken it to him yet that once she felt comfortable at the clinic, his hours were going to go part-time, leaving him plenty of time for squirrel gazing off the balcony of their apartment. Unless, of course, her uneasiness panned out to be more than paranoia, and in that case she’d have to keep him by her side.

  What if she really was being tracked again?

  Her spiral into worry was diverted when a rusty red truck pulled up beside her and an old man climbed out, then went around to the back and opened the tailgate. He adjusted the strap of his overalls, then bent over with his head out of sight.

  Maggie watched through her side mirror, and when she saw him struggling to lift something, she opened her door and stepped out.

  “Would you like some help?” she asked.

  He let go of the bundle of blankets and stood, holding his hand up over his eyes to block the sun.

  “You work here?” he asked, his voice shaky.

  Maggie hesitated. She looked at the bundle but didn’t see anything except a lump under it. “It’s my first day, actually. But why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  At the sound of his voice, Maggie saw the tip of a brown nose rise from one of the folds.

  “It’s my hunting dog, Cooter. I think a snake got to him.”

  Maggie moved closer, feeling her pulse quicken.

  “How long ago? What kind of snake?”

  The old man shook his head. “I let him out at sunrise, and he was gone for hours. He always comes when I whistle, but when he didn’t this time, I went looking for him and found him lying halfway in the creek. Don’t know how long he’d been down. He was shivering and couldn’t get up out of the water. I had to climb down there and carry him up. Didn’t see no gunshot wounds, so either he fell and broke a leg or it was a snake. My gut tells me it’s the latter.”

  “I thought Hawaii didn’t have snakes?” Maggie said, opening the dog’s eyelids to check his pupils.

  “Yeah, tell that to the scumbags who smuggle them in then let ’em loose when they get too big to handle at home.”

  Judging by the old man’s feebleness, she couldn’t see how he had climbed down anything, much less come back up with a fifty-plus-pound dog and carried it back to his vehicle. But she knew this—the bond between human and dog was strong, and loyalty could work miracles. Still, the man looked exhausted enough to drop, and Maggie wasn’t certified to work on humans.

  “Let me get him,” she said. She didn’t know if it was a snakebite or not, but they needed to move fast. A dog out on his own could get into all sorts of trouble, and snakes were not just one of the hazards of letting dogs roam free, but they were also one of the deadliest.

  “Oh, no, I can’t do that, ma’am. He stinks bad enough to knock a buzzard off a shit wagon. And you’re just a slight little thing anyway.”

  “I’m stronger than I look.” She moved around him, putting her arms under the bundle and then lifting it. The dog was heavy, but she was used to carrying Charlie. Using the strength in her legs, she straightened and turned around. “Get the door. We need to get him to Dr. Starr stat.”

  Woodrow was right behind her as she followed the old man, who hurriedly hobbled to the door. Suddenly all her nerves were gone, and in their place she felt the adrenaline crank up. She remembered now the passion she had for her job as a tech so long ago—the rush of being needed and allowing her skills and love for animals to make a difference in their lives.

  Juniper had the door open before they even got there with the dog. The old man stood aside, letting her pass, and Maggie turned so she could walk through without bumping Cooter any more than necessary. Francine was behind the desk, her face pinched with concern.

  “We need a table,” Maggie said. She directed Woodrow into a lobby chair and commanded him to stay. He jumped to her bidding immediately.

  “This way,” Juniper said. Maggie was glad to see she was all business and didn’t waste time with questions.

  In the back, Juniper led her to a clean table and called out, letting everyone know they needed all available hands on board. Maggie laid the dog—bundle and all—on the stainless-steel table. His head had come uncovered and his eyes were dilated, fixed and staring off somewhere.

  “He’s in shock,” she said.

  “What do we have here?” Dr. Starr asked, appearing from nowhere as he began to unfold the blanket.

  “Met him in the parking lot. Brought in by his owner who found him in the creek bed, shivering and unable to get up. I didn’t get a look, but he suspects a snakebite,” Maggie said.

  “I doubt that,” Dr. Starr said. “He’d have to be one unlucky dog to find one of the few snakes on the island. There hasn’t been a sighting in
years. Let me see him.”

  Francine appeared, wringing her hands. Dr. Starr waved her out of there, and then he began a physical examination. It was clear as soon as the blanket was pulled back that one of the dog’s front legs was swollen to at least twice its normal size. He searched, sorting through the hair, trying to find a wound.

  He found a spot that made Cooter wince when touched, but he didn’t see any sort of visible source of pain.

  “Josh,” Dr. Starr called out. “X-rays, stat.”

  Maggie stepped back, allowing a young man, obviously another vet tech, to pick the dog up and carry him to a small room, kicking the door closed behind him.

  It wasn’t five minutes and he was back, setting the dog on the table again.

  “Start a line,” Dr. Starr said, then left to go read the X-rays.

  A girl Maggie hadn’t met yet elbowed her way in and prepared to give intravenous fluids.

  Dr. Starr was back quickly. “It wasn’t a snakebite. I’m going to talk to the owner. Maggie, you come with me since you brought him in.”

  She followed him out to the lobby where the man was standing at the door, looking out at his truck, his expression stoic as he stroked the gray scruff on his chin. By that time, there were a few other clients out there with dogs and one with a cat in a crate, and they all watched silently.

  “Excuse me, you own the hunting dog?” Dr. Starr said.

  The man turned, and Maggie saw him try to blink away the moisture in his eyes. He set his jaw and lifted his head higher.

  “That’s right,” he said, nodding solemnly. “Is the old boy going to make it?”

  “That’s depending on what you want to do. His leg is broken. But unlike most bone fractures in dogs that can be treated with a simple bone realignment and a cast, this is a dirty break. It’s not clean enough to fit back together with traction. He’s going to need surgery if you want him to return to a normal quality of life.”

  The old man shook his head slowly from side to side. “I just don’t know what happened. He’s down in that creek bed a dozen times a week. I thought for sure a snake had got him. But breaking a leg? How’s that possible?”

  “He could’ve been after a wild hog or something and slipped on some rocks, fallen down the bank,” Dr. Starr said. “I don’t know, but he definitely did a number on himself. We could amputate that leg, but there won’t be any more creek runs. You’d have to keep him closer to home.”

  “What would you do if it were your dog?” the old man asked.

  “He can do without a leg. I just wish it wasn’t his front one. That’s a different story when it comes to mobility. If he loves to roam and you don’t think he’d adjust to being yard bound, I’d save the leg, but it’s going to be expensive. I’m assuming I’ll have to insert a rod to keep it stable.”

  The man wrinkled his brow. Maggie could tell he didn’t have much.

  “How expensive?” he said.

  “With the amount of time, equipment, anesthesia, and aftercare that’ll be required, it may cost upwards of a couple thousand,” Dr. Starr said softly. “And there’s always a chance it won’t heal properly and we’ll have to take it anyway.” He paused for a moment. “Or we could give him a few shots to put him to sleep and take him out of his misery, if you can’t afford surgery and don’t want to take the leg.”

  Maggie didn’t know how the doctor could even say that without emotion. She was glad it was him doing the talking and not her.

  The old man looked out at the parking lot again, taking a full minute before responding. “See that truck out there? I bought it brand new more than twenty years ago. It’s been a good one. Me and that truck have been through some messes. But I know I can get at least three grand for it from some high school kid who wants to look like a man behind the wheel of something tough.”

  “So . . . are you saying . . . ,” Dr. Starr said, trailing off to wait for official permission.

  The old man nodded. “Hell yeah, I’m saying to save my dog and his leg. Ol’ Cooter is all I got left in this world that really matters. I ain’t taking away his freedom, and I sure ain’t putting him down.”

  Maggie swallowed past the lump in her throat and followed Dr. Starr back to the emergency area. She wished she had a few grand sitting unused in her pocket that could keep an old man and his beloved truck together.

  Maggie didn’t assist in Cooter’s surgery, but she got to watch and found it just as fascinating as she remembered: the magic of skill and medicine combined to heal a living thing.

  After nearly three hours of surgery, Dr. Starr sent her out to tell Cooter’s owner—William Hill, but everyone called him Red—that his dog had made it through the surgery fine and that he could come back and visit tomorrow. Red nodded, obviously choked up from relief, then made a beeline for the door and the trusty truck that would probably not be his much longer.

  Once Cooter was moved to a large kennel, Maggie squatted in front of him and whispered that it would be fine, his pop would be by to see him soon. With that, she moved on to the next task. Then the next, and the next.

  When the last patient was seen, she pitched in to help the assistants clean up the day’s mess. Maggie settled the overnight patients in with fresh food and water, then washed her hands. She checked in once more with Cooter, saw that he was stable, and finally let her shoulders relax.

  She felt completely spent, but she realized something interesting.

  In the six hours that she’d been there, she had helped treat Cooter, then cleaned and dressed the wound of another dog that was brought in with a piece of barbed wire wrapped around its ankle, as well as held down a squealing pig that needed to be neutered. She suddenly realized that she had not thought about her own troubles at all.

  The diversion felt good.

  “You did all right today,” Dr. Starr said as he locked the door then turned to her. Other than the vet assistant who had volunteered for the overtime and would sit through the night with Cooter, they were the last ones out. Francine had left only minutes earlier, but not before she’d hugged Maggie and told her how grateful she was to have her at the clinic. It was a little awkward, but it made Maggie miss her mother. She made a mental note to call later and let her talk to Charlie.

  “Thank you. But Liam said you needed a vet tech, and I noticed you already have a few. So why did you hire me?” A suspicion was gnawing at her and had been throughout the day.

  He gave her a sheepish grin.

  Realization flooded over her, and Maggie felt her face flush. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Liam came to you and asked you to give me a job as a favor to him, didn’t he?”

  Dr. Starr held his hands up. “Wait—simmer down. I did, I mean I do need a tech. I’m going to be taking on a partner next year, and there’s so much business to be had here on the island that we need to ramp up the staff.”

  She shook her head. “I’m so embarrassed. I mean, seriously, what was he thinking? I’m thankful for the job, but I didn’t think I was a charity case.” She rummaged in her purse for her keys, unable to find them through the humiliation that burned her vision. “Woodrow, heel.”

  Woodrow came to attention beside her.

  “Maggie, please. Stop,” Dr. Starr said. “Liam and Quinn care about you. And I legitimately need your help. What I saw from you today in there is that you put your heart and soul into your work. That you really care. That’s the kind of vet tech I need beside me. And to be honest, the others haven’t really accepted me. I thought it was a great idea to hire someone myself. I need someone who I can depend on and know is not comparing me to the amazing Dr. Kent.”

  She stopped. He sounded desperate. And he did have a lot to live up to; that was no joke.

  “What makes you think I won’t be comparing?” she asked, turning around even as she realized her anger at Liam was coming out at him.

  He laughed. “For one, you don’t know him. But I’ll be honest, Dr. Kent is a legend around here that I’ll never measure up to
. All I can do is try to make my own name. I swear—this isn’t a pity offer. Stay and work with me.”

  She hesitated. She was still mad that he and Liam had conspired together. It made her feel . . . well, she didn’t know how it made her feel but she didn’t like it. Then she couldn’t help but smile at Dr. Starr, who stood there looking like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, waiting for his punishment.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever made a call to help you get another job?” he asked.

  Maggie thought of her very first job when she turned sixteen. Their local grocery store had a Starbucks inside, and their pastor knew the manager. He’d put in a good word, and Maggie found herself working there every Saturday through high school. It wasn’t easy at first because the college kid who was supposed to be training her would stay out all night on Fridays and come in on Saturdays hungover. He’d try to sleep it off in the supply closet while Maggie struggled to learn on demand to make a skinny latte or whatever it was the next frazzled mom across the counter ordered.

  Now she was that mom.

  And this mom needed to pay the bills.

  She breathed slowly, letting her temper simmer down. Her mom always said it liked to jump the gun and make a mountain out of a molehill. “Fine. I’ll stay through the ninety-day evaluation period. At the end of that, if it isn’t working out for me, I walk.”

  He straightened, putting his chin in the air and taking on an arrogant stance.

  “And what if it’s not working out for me?” he said, a sparkle in his eyes.

  So he wanted banter. She sighed. So much for the professional doctor-employee relationship that he should be striving for. She needed to set that straight right away. Her motto these days was not to let anyone get too close, or even merely confused.

  “Then you can give me my walking papers and I’ll be out of your way,” she said, keeping her tone professional and curt. “But I’ll have you know, that’s not likely to happen. I’m good at my job, as you saw today, and I’ll prove that to you over and over again so that you’ll forget that Liam ever got me in the door in the first place.”