White Picket Fences

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Excuse me,” she said as a caregiver passed en route from one ward to another. She’d just come from the direction Zack had headed.

  “Yes?”

  “The man I’m with left here in kind of a hurry. He went that way.” She pointed with her free hand. “Do have any idea if there’s anything wrong?”

  “Is he a patient here?”

  “No. We, uh, brought some dogs in to—”

  “Oh, you’re looking for Zack.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s in the second room on the right, chatting with Mr. Clearstone. They were debating whether or not the Suns have a chance to make it to the playoffs this season.”

  “Depends on whether or not Kidd stays healthy,” Randi answered automatically, her mind spinning.

  What kind of game was Zack playing here?

  “It’s funny, you know,” the caregiver said, apparently not in any hurry to move on. “Mr. Clearstone loves Sammie and was asking Zack where she was. He said she was busy working, but that he’d bring her by soon.”

  “She’s not working yet,” Randi said, but she was thinking of some choice words for Dr. Zack Foster.

  What kind of doctor did he think he was, anyway? A psychiatrist?

  Well, if that was it, then he’d damn well better get to work on himself. A guy who had to sneak out of a woman’s house in the middle of the night sure had some hang-ups that needed attention.

  Sammie’s big brown eyes followed the worker as she headed into the ward across the hall, and if Randi didn’t know better, she’d have thought there was longing in the dog’s expression.

  “You’ll need to speak with your owner,” she told the dog when Sammie turned those big brown eyes on her. “And if I were you, I’d be good and mad at him.”

  Sammie sat still.

  She noticed a chart, listing the week’s meals, posted on the wall. Everything on it was mushy. That must be the dining room straight ahead.

  “Don’t be getting mad before he’s back,” Randi added quickly, before the dog could get any ideas.

  “I had absolutely nothing to do with this and I’m not any happier about the situation than you are.”

  The dog continued to stare at Randi, as though listening, maybe even waiting for more. And because, when she talked, Sammie seemed content to stay put, Randi said, “So does the smell bother you at all?” And then, “No, probably not. You roll in disgusting stuff. I’ve seen your kind.”

  Another caregiver passed by, this one with her arms full of what looked to be men’s clothes.

  Sammie gazed after her, moving her front paws around a little, as if she planned to follow the older woman into the ward.

  “Come to think of it,” Randi said, desperate to keep the dog in place even if it meant talking to her, “you probably like the smell in here.”

  An old woman shuffled by, wearing light-blue polyester pants and a bathrobe with only one big button fastened across her chest. And fluffy blue slippers. She was carrying a baby doll.

  “There, there,” she murmured to the “child” in her arms. “There’s no reason to be afraid. It’s just Sammie.”

  Randi smiled at the woman, hoping her face didn’t look as stiff as it felt. That last week of her grandfather’s life, when the family had practically lived at the nursing home, Randi had steered clear of the Alzheimer’s ward. She’d steered clear of every room but the private one that housed her dying, though completely lucid, grandfather.

  After his last stroke he’d been too disabled to be cared for at home, but he’d insisted on leaving the hospital. He’d only been in the home a month before he died.

  The old woman passed by again, a little closer this time, her attention almost exclusively on Sammie.

  “See?” she said to the doll she held so carefully.

  “Sammie won’t do anything but love you.” And then she whispered, “But not as much as I do. You know Mommy loves you best.”

  Sammie wagged her tail as the woman came closer, and Randi smiled at the woman again, though much more nervously. She wanted the woman to go quietly away before Sammie took it into her head to move.

  She looked around for anyone who might be in charge of the dotty old woman and started to sweat. Sammie wagged her tail so hard it was banging the nondescript tile floor. Randi wondered if it hurt, but if it did, Sammie didn’t seem to care.

  Maybe dogs didn’t have feeling in their tails.

  Maybe the woman would go away.

  Maybe Zack would hurry up and get back. She looked down the hall in the direction he’d disappeared, renewing her anger with him.

  What the hell was he thinking, abandoning her like this? If this project was so special to him, shouldn’t he be here doing it, rather than leaving this moment to her, a complete novice—and one who’d just admitted her very personal shortcomings in this area?

  She’d given him credit for a whole lot more sense than that.

  “Would you like to pet the puppy, dear?”

  Randi watched in horror as the old woman leaned down, putting her doll’s hard plastic hand on Sammie’s head. Randi tightened her grip on the leash, even as she prepared to drop it and pick up the old woman if Sammie became a problem.

  She could save the lady. She couldn’t handle the dog.

  Sammie cocked her head, tail still wagging, and sat patiently while the old woman and her “baby” took turns petting her neck.

  “Good Sammie,” the woman crooned in a quavery voice. “See, dear, I told you there was nothing to be afraid of.”

  The woman eventually left—apparently her doll had dirtied its pants—without ever seeming to notice that Randi was even there.

  Sammie was still sitting right where Zack had left her.

  Amazing.

  “How’d she do, Sam, my girl?” Zack’s voice came from behind Randi.

  She spun around as the dog barked and flew over to greet Zack.

  “What on earth were you thinking—”

  “I know, girl,” Zack said, bending down to rub the dog behind both ears. “These things take a while.”

  Sammie barked again.

  “She says you did just fine,” Zack reported, finally meeting Randi’s eyes.

  She meant to stay angry with him for a good long time—and to let him know it, as quickly and emphatically as possible. But then she realized she was still holding Sammie’s leash. The dog had moved and Randi hadn’t jumped out of her skin.

  “Here,” was all she said, handing Zack the leash.

  “You keep it.”

  He started off down the hall, Sammie at his heels. Randi had no choice but to follow him.

  “I can’t do this! I’m not trained. I’m not even comfortable.”

  Zack turned, although he didn’t stop walking. “You’ve already done everything you have to do. You stand. Sammie works.”

  “But what if…I mean, we were lucky she didn’t try anything back there, but—”

  “Relax,” Zack said. “I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”

  “Yeah, so I’ve noticed,” Randi muttered.

  “I promise,” Zack said.

  Their eyes met, and in spite of the jolt that went straight through her, Randi wasn’t sure she could believe him, wasn’t sure she could trust her own judgment.

  “I don’t make a promise unless I intend to keep it,” he said, as though reading her mind.

  They’d reached the doorway of a room, and Sammie, apparently recognizing the person inside, pushed her way in. Figuring that as long as she was a leash’s distance away she wouldn’t actually have to get near the dog, Randi followed her in.

  But not without glancing over her shoulder to make certain Zack was indeed as good as his word.

  He was. He was so close behind he almost bumped into her when she stopped in her tracks.

  They visited four people over the next forty-five minutes. And Zack had been correct. All Randi had to do was stand there. Sammie did the rest.

  If Sammie had
n’t been a dog, Randi would have fallen in love with her on the spot. The dog actually seemed to sense what people needed. And then, even more amazingly, gave it to them. Whether it was antics, kisses, or just sitting quietly to let herself be pawed. For each room she entered, for each person she visited, Sammie became a different dog.

  “Watch this,” Zack said, taking the leash from Randi as Sammie drew them to the door at the end of the ward. “Rick’s a quadriplegic. He was in a serious accident, suffered a spinal cord and neck injury and lost the use of almost everything but his eyes….”

  Sammie pushed open the partially closed door, but rather than heading boldly into the room as she had with all her other friends, she stopped still, standing in the doorway, watching the occupant of the room intently.

  Randi’s stomach, every nerve in her body, tightened. She had a bad feeling about this.

  “Maybe we should go,” she whispered to Zack before she’d even seen what was waiting for them in that room.

  Only when Zack shook his head, again whispered, “Watch,” and nodded at Sammie, did Randi notice the dog’s wagging tail.

  She heard the man before she saw him. Or at least she assumed that hissing sound was coming from the room’s occupant. As she moved around so that she was on the other side of Zack, able to see the entire room, she had her suspicions confirmed. The man was making those sounds with his mouth.

  And the effort seemed to be costing him terribly. His face was beet-red. His knuckles, where they rested on the wheels of his chair, were white.

  His chair was beside the window on the far side of the room. There was a bed with a lot of medical contraptions around it between him and them. At the end of the bed was one high-backed orange vinyl chair with scratched wooden arms. A four-drawer dresser completed the decor.

  “Ssssss…Sssss.”

  “What does he need?” Randi asked urgently. “Can’t you help him?”

  Zack merely shook his head.

  Sammie appeared to be waiting for something, too.

  “Sssssss.”

  Randi turned to leave. She couldn’t stand to watch this torture.

  “Wait.” Zack’s hand came out, grabbed Randi’s arm.

  “Sssss…Ssssss.”

  In all her dealings with Zack, most particularly throughout that whole unforgettable night, she’d found him to be sensitive and aware. Still, she couldn’t be a party to this.

  “Sssss…Sssss…Sssssss.”

  Rick couldn’t be more than thirty. With his chiseled features and thick dark hair, he must have been one gorgeous guy before his accident.

  Watching him struggle so helplessly tore at Randi in a way she’d never experienced.

  “Sssaaammmeeeeee.”

  The dog bounded into the room, jumping up, her paws in Rick’s lap as she licked his face.

  That face turned to Zack, the clear, intelligent green eyes filled with triumph.

  “We’re going to have you giving lectures again,” Zack said, stepping into the room to clasp the other man’s shoulder. “You mark my words.”

  Randi remembered that Zack said he never made a promise he couldn’t keep. And suddenly, noting the look of determination—of belief—in Rick’s eyes, Randi had no doubt that he would indeed speak all his thoughts again someday.

  Rick let his eyes light on Randi, full of question.

  Never had she seen a pair of eyes so expressive.

  “This is Randi,” Zack said, pulling her more fully into the room. “She’s a friend of mine.”

  Randi was too busy smiling at Rick to correct Zack, to remind him that they were merely co-supervisors of a pet-therapy club. Too busy to squelch the brief flash of pleasure she felt at hearing herself described as his friend.

  Rick blinked rapidly, startling Randi. Zack, however, watched the man, as though listening to words that Randi couldn’t hear.

  Looking toward his right hand, Rick smiled.

  And then so did Zack. “Sammie,” Zack said. “Right.”

  Immediately, Sammie left Rick’s lap to move to the right side of Rick’s chair.

  And there ensued another lengthy struggle, ending with yet another victory as Rick maneuvered his hand from his wheelchair to the top of Sammie’s head. The miracle didn’t stop there, though, for with another intense effort, Rick also managed to move his hand down Sammie’s spine, petting her.

  By the time they’d gathered their students and left the nursing home, Randi had forgotten that she’d meant to give Zack hell….

  CHAPTER NINE

  “RICK WAS LYING in his bed waiting to die before Sammie came along,” Zack told Randi later that evening as they stood together in the back parking lot at Montford. All the students had finally finished talking about everything they’d seen and done and were heading for their dorms. Renee had been the last to leave, and only then after saying goodbye to her canine companion a half-dozen times.

  “He refused to cooperate, always closing his eyes whenever anyone came near him.”

  “His only means of communication,” Randi commiserated. She was standing by her driver’s door. “It was all the control he had.”

  Zack nodded, unable to describe how horrible it had been to see the man lying there. It had sure put his own problems in perspective.

  “One day, when I was at the nursing home with Sammie, she barked right outside his door. A nurse happened to be in there at the time, filling his feeding tube, and he not only opened his eyes, but kept looking at her and then at the door.”

  “So you took Sammie in?” Randi asked, her beautiful brown eyes alight with interest.

  “I did. That time and a few others. About three months ago the doctors told me there was every neurological reason to hope Rick could regain use of at least some of his motor skills. He may not ever walk again, and any improvement is months of work and struggle, much as you saw today. But it can happen.”

  “What did he do when they told him that?”

  “They’d already told him. But when they told me and I talked with Cassie, we came up with the idea of letting Sammie help him.” He leaned a hip against the hood of her Jeep. “The next time I took her to see him, I wouldn’t let her in the door until he made an effort to call her. What started out as merely spittle dripping from his mouth became his first word just a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Sammie was his first word?”

  Zack nodded, grinning. Sammie, hearing her name, barked from her seat in his Explorer. Which sent up a roar of agreement from four of her canine companions. Bear was the only dog who remained placid, lying down on the front passenger seat, apparently too exhausted from his day’s work to bother with anything.

  “You’d better get them all home to their dinners,” Randi told Zack, eyeing the Explorer uneasily over her shoulder, as though four thousand pounds of steel wouldn’t be enough to keep those hungry dogs away from her if they decided they wanted to get out.

  Someday he’d show her that all she needed was a look to keep a trained dog in its place.

  “You did well today,” Zack said.

  “I didn’t do anything but stand there.”

  “I meant with Sammie. You handled her like a pro.”

  “Yeah, well…” He could see that her eyes were sparking with anger as she gazed up at him. “I have a bone to pick with you about that. No pun intended.”

  “Go ahead.” He could take it. Besides, he was rather enjoying her show of passion. It might not be of the sexual variety, but at the moment it was better than nothing.

  “What you did, leaving me alone like that, especially in a place like that, was beyond foolish.”

  He waited, still leaning against her Jeep. She had more to say; he could see it in her eyes.

  And he probably deserved at least some of it. But Sammie had had a job to do and in this particular case, she could only have done it if he left.

  “Do you have any idea what could have happened?” Randi asked, her short blond hair adorable as it bounced around her fac
e. “This senile old lady came up to us. She was totally incapable of helping herself if something went wrong. She could have stepped on the dog’s toes or pulled her hair, and I’d have been completely helpless to prevent Sammie’s retaliation.”

  “Have you ever tried stepping on Sammie’s toes?” Zack asked lazily.

  “Of course not.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Those little eyelet things keeping her shirt together had been distracting him all day.

  “Pity. If you had, you’d know Sammie wouldn’t have done anything but sit there.”

  She thought about that for a moment. “And I suppose you’re going to tell me she’d have reacted the same way if her hair had been pulled.”

  “You’re quick.”

  “So answer me this, Mr. So-sure-of-yourself, what would’ve happened if she’d decided to follow you into the ward? Or run after a cart of food? Or—”

  “She wouldn’t have stood up from that spot on the floor even if she had to wet herself.”

  Randi looked silently from him to the dog. “You somehow told her to sit and stay before you left,” she muttered.

  Zack nodded, moved his hand down sharply and to the right. “This means sit and stay.”

  “You knew I was perfectly safe.”

  “Yes.”

  “It still wasn’t very nice.”

  “Probably not,” he agreed. “But as stubborn as you are, there wasn’t any other way I could think of to prove that you don’t need to be petrified every time we go on one of these outings.”

  Randi’s eyes met his for a long moment.

  “Thank you,” she finally said, her expression completely serious.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to the dogs in his vehicle. “If you don’t get them home soon, they may be wetting themselves all over your Explorer.”

  It was the second time she’d dismissed him. He still wasn’t ready to go.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  Randi looked him straight in the eye. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You know—been there, done that.”

  He moved a little closer to her, but restrained himself from touching. God, how he wanted to touch her. “I think we should talk.”