Paws for Love

by Mara Wells

  “Did you know she told me I was lucky to lose the baby? Lucky.” Danielle’s eyes filled with tears again, and her breath hitched. “If that’s her best—” She sucked in a sob, heel of her palm to her mouth to hold it in.

  “Dani, I—”

  She shook her head hard enough that the toilet-paper train tumbled to the floor. She kicked it out of the way and said something softly to Sarge. The dog leapt to his feet and moved out of her way. She wrenched open the door, then looked back over her shoulder before stepping into the building.

  “This time, I’m the one doing the walking. Let’s see how you like it.”

  He watched her blurry white form float down the hallway. He didn’t like it, not at all. He plopped onto the top step and slung an arm over Sarge’s shoulder, chest heaving like he’d completed an obstacle course. He took a moment to calm his breathing and squelch the impulse to hunt her down. She wouldn’t thank him for running her to ground, and he didn’t know what he’d say when he caught up with her anyway. “It’s just you and me, big guy. What do you think of that?”

  Sarge plunked his head onto Knox’s lap and rolled concerned eyes up at him.

  “Yeah, I hear you.” Knox’s palm settled on the top of Sarge’s skull. “But what can I do?”

  Sarge whined and pawed at Knox’s hand like he had some suggestions. They were probably good ones. Too bad Knox didn’t speak dog.

  Chapter 24

  “Such a waste.” Dr. Morrow stood in the door of the exam room, observing while Danielle calmed down the frantic kitten on the stainless-steel table. She held it close to her chest so it could hear the steady beat of her heart, its front paws in the circle of her fingers to keep it from scratching her. The kitten’s tail swished angrily, but the yowling had calmed to mewling.

  “Almost ready for you.” Danielle ignored her father’s comment. It was one he made regularly, at least once per week, since she’d announced that she would not be attending college. You’d think a decade would dull his disappointment, but no. This was the one bridge they couldn’t seem to cross. “Give me a few more minutes.”

  “We could sedate him.”

  “Not necessary,” Danielle cooed in her cat-calming voice. The kitten wriggled and butted its head against her.

  Dr. Morrow stood beside her, a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You really are magic with the animals, pumpkin. I wish you’d rethink becoming a vet. Someday I’ll retire and then what will happen to my clinic?”

  “You’re a long way from retirement.” She gave her standard answer to his standard guilt trip. It wouldn’t always be true, but she figured she had another twenty or so years before his concerns were actually valid. “And I’m happy as I am.”

  Another standard answer and one that had been true, mostly, for a long time. But today it felt wrong on her tongue. She wasn’t unhappy, but happy wasn’t the right word, either. Not since her fight with Knox. What had she thought would happen with Knox Donovan? That they’d somehow forget years of silence and separation to live happily ever after? She’d set herself up for that fall, and fall she had. The only thing she was proud of was that she’d put an end to it last week before things got any worse.

  “What if I’m not?” Her dad readjusted the stethoscope around his neck.

  “Not what? Happy with how my life is going?” Danielle didn’t remember her mother who had died of cancer while she was still a baby. For as long as she could remember, it was her and her dad. The upside was that he’d always been there for her. The downside was how much of a say he felt he should have with her decisions. She was so tired of this conversation.

  “Happy with how my life is going.” He fidgeted with the stethoscope some more and then buttoned and unbuttoned his lab coat. “Sherry says I work too much. She says I should take some time to enjoy life. You know, before it’s too late.”

  Sherry. Danielle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Five minutes in her dad’s life, and Sherry was already interfering in their business? Danielle and Carrie had spoken just this morning at Fur Haven about their concern that their parents were spending too much time together. They both knew what the winky face meant. Danielle was worried that after so many years of staying off the dating market, her dad was making up too quickly for lost time.

  “So take a vacation. I can hold the fort down here for a few days.” She snuggled her face into the kitten’s soft fur, hiding her face from her dad because he read her so easily.

  “What if I wanted to take a few days per week off? A semiretirement, if you will? Then what? Without your degree, I can’t leave the clinic in your hands. Danielle, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.” His fidgety hands finally rested on his little chub of a belly.

  “Why don’t you understand that at a certain age, it’s simply too embarrassing to go back to school? The ship sailed, Dad. Get used to it. I have.” She settled the kitten on the table, gesturing for her dad to take a look.

  Instead, he pulled out his phone. “Look at this article. An eighty-year old woman just got her A.A. Don’t talk to me about too old. It’s never too late to chase a dream.”

  She traded him the phone for the kitten, glancing at the article. “Some people win the lottery, too. Doesn’t mean it’s a good investment.”

  Dr. Morrow kept one hand on the kitten and placed the other on his daughter’s shoulder. “Pumpkin, you are always a good investment. Can’t you even try?”

  Danielle placed her hand over her father’s and summoned a wobbly smile. “Dad, don’t worry about me. I’m good.”

  He didn’t smile back. Instead, he tugged on his stethoscope in that nervous way he had when he had to deliver bad news to a client.

  “What? Spit it out. I have feline leukemia, don’t I? Is it too late for treatment?” She tried to joke it out of him, but he didn’t crack a smile.

  “You’re fired.”

  At first, she was sure she’d misheard. “Can’t fire a volunteer.” She tried another joke, but this one fell as flat as the first. She squeezed his hand and kept a firm grip on the kitten.

  “You’re not a volunteer, although the way you come and go as you please, I’m sure my other employees must think you are.” Dr. Morrow didn’t return the squeeze. Didn’t look at her but studied the shiny surface of the exam table like he could see microscopic germs with his bare eyes. “But I do pay you a salary. And room and board, I might add. So I can fire you. I am firing you. I should’ve fired you a long time ago.”

  Danielle snatched her hand back and cradled it against her chest. Fire, firing, fired. She was definitely not mishearing him. “Why?”

  “Sherry says—” He sucked in a breath and started over. “Sherry pointed out something I’ve known for a few years now. I’ve made it too easy for you to coast through life without having to make any real decisions. You’re not living up to your potential.”

  “My potential?” Danielle parroted, looking around her for clues this was some kind of surreal dream. “My potential is fine. I help animals every day. You like having me here.”

  “I do.” Dr. Morrow landed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “You’re my daughter, and I love you. Helping out when you were a kid? Good preparation for becoming a vet. Sticking around after you decided not to go to college? Necessary at first. I know that. But you’ve been fine for years, and you’re still in the job I gave you so I could keep an eye on you, back when things were so bad for you. Remember?”

  Remember the worst years of her life? No, thank you. They sat with her, though, lurking in the dark corners. She’d banished them to the far recesses of her mind. Being around Knox made her want to remember some of the better times, before the doctors and treatments and her so-called cure, but she wasn’t willing to do it—not at the cost of returning to the depression that colored her early twenties.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” She pushed back memories of the days she couldn’t get
out of bed, the days she could eat entire sleeves of Oreos and still feel hungry, the days that turned into weeks and months while she figured out how to live with her condition. “Sorry I’ve disappointed you. I thought we had a good thing here. I guess I was wrong.”

  “We do have a good thing. Can you blame me for wanting more for you than good? I want the best for you, pumpkin. I always have.” He patted her shoulder and used both hands to position the cat on the table. “That’s why I’m also giving you thirty days’ notice that you’ll need to move out of the guest cottage. It’s time to choose your own life.”

  “What?” Danielle swallowed hard. “You don’t think that’s a little harsh? Firing me and making me homeless all on the same day?” Tears threatened to blind her, but they weren’t sad. No, she was furious. This whole conversation was nothing like her father. Sherry was behind this. Her daddy would never kick her out.

  “Like this little one”—her dad tickled the kitten’s chin, and the tabby purred loudly—“I’m sure you’ll land on your feet.”

  Danielle’s mind ran on unfamiliar tracks. Without her job at the clinic, how would she support Homestretch? Without the guest cottage, where would she live? How would she pay for it? She couldn’t simply get a job at another veterinary clinic. She wasn’t a certified vet tech; she was trained by her father, not licensed by the state. Out on the job market with only her high-school diploma? She’d never be able to afford living on the Beach on minimum wage.

  “Fine. I’ll apply to a couple of schools. Is that what you want to hear?” Anger made her voice shake, and the kitten shied away from her. Animals never shied away from her. The kitten’s fear hurt her almost as much as her father abandoning her for his new girlfriend.

  “That’s my girl.” Her father beamed at her. “Now, can you help me get this little one’s temperature?”

  Great, a stick up the butt. Always a favorite with the animals. She got the kitten in position, getting the task over with as soon as possible. The kitten’s eyes were wide with shock, but it was done before she had time to protest too much. The kitten mewled accusingly while Dr. Morrow continued the examination.

  “Believe me, sweetie, I know how you feel.” Danielle kept hold of the kitten’s head, thinking how she wanted to research colleges about as much as she wanted a thermometer up her butt. A few rejection letters should get her dad off her back. It’d be worth the time just to prove her dad wrong, and then he wouldn’t have the heart to kick her out. She hoped. Because if she didn’t have her dad and her cottage and the clinic, what did she have?

  You could have Knox an evil voice in her brain whispered. He’d looked so sucker punched last week when she’d walked away from him, the toilet-paper gown in shreds by the time she locked herself in the stall in the lobby bathroom. She’d done it to spare him, but he’d never know why. She hoped he’d move on now, go out and find the life he deserved. She supposed that was all her dad wanted for her, too. Why did doing the right thing have to suck so much?

  * * *

  It was too late to back out now. Sydney’s Mini was parked near the curb, and she and Carrie were climbing out, loaded down with bags. Danielle had cleaned up her place as best she could with eight puppies underfoot, but it still looked like what it was: a doghouse. These were her dog park friends, though, so maybe they’d understand. Sydney needed some pictures for the website she was building and some footage of the puppies for the first video post on the new Homestretch YouTube channel. It wasn’t like Danielle was asking for the cottage to be considered for an historic home tour or anything.

  “Come on back.” Danielle waved them through the side wrought-iron gate that led past her dad’s house and the pool and to her cottage.

  “Are you so excited about the bachelorette next Thursday? I can hardly wait.” Sydney squeezed by the recycling bin and ducked under a low-hanging palm frond.

  “It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure.” Carrie’s dry delivery let Danielle know she was not alone in dreading what Sydney had cooked up for the party, and somehow she’d convinced Lance and Knox to go along with it.

  “I’ve never been to a bachelor and bachelorette party.” Danielle kept her comment neutral. Sydney had put a lot of time and effort into the planning, and all Danielle had had to do was say yes to the many texts Sydney sent.

  Sydney clapped her hands together, and the stack of bracelets on her left wrist jangled. “It’s going to be epic.” Sydney’s eyebrows jumped up and down.

  Instead of responding, Danielle waggled her eyebrows back, and Sydney cracked up. Danielle held the gate open so Sydney and Carrie could enter the backyard. It wasn’t Carrie’s fault Danielle’s days at the cottage were numbered. In spite of her promise to her dad last week, she had yet to fill out a college application. Or look for another place to live. Although no longer going to the clinic freed up large chunks of her day, she had puppies to care for. Who had time to scour the internet for job leads and college-essay writing advice when she could spend her time picking out perfect names for each puppy? Not this girl.

  “You’re on a canal!” Sydney spun in a circle, taking it all in, her ankle-length skirt floating around her like a balloon. “And what a gorgeous pool!”

  “Thanks. It’s my dad’s, really. I’m just staying here.” Danielle gave her standard line, but she heard the falseness of it even if her friends didn’t. Just staying here implied she’d eventually move out, but so far, she’d spent her entire adult life living on her dad’s property. Right after high school, she’d stayed in her childhood bedroom. When it became clear she was never leaving for college, she’d moved into the guest cottage. Temporarily, she and her father had agreed. Temporary turned out to be over a decade. On some level, she knew her dad—or rather, Sherry—was right. She had to stop pretending things were temporary and acknowledge that this was her life. She hadn’t consciously chosen this life, but it suited her. Why did her dad have to go and fire her and shake everything up?

  “Lucky.” Sydney swept her blond hair over one shoulder and pulled a professional-looking camera out of the tote bag dangling from her crooked elbow. “My rent went up again last month. That’s why I’ve been going on all these interviews. I love having my own styling business, but a steady paycheck would make me sleep a lot better at night.”

  “Still having insomnia?” Carrie walked back from where she’d been inspecting the small dock over the canal, her high-tech sneakers smacking on the concrete. With her hair pulled into a high bun and her body encased in tight workout wear, it appeared she’d come straight from one of her runs. “That sucks.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Sydney snapped a few shots. “Light’s good. Maybe we can take some photos with the dogs out here.”

  “Sure.” Danielle led her friends into her place, warning them to watch their step as they entered. Carrie was a parent’s dream come true. Smart, successful, beautiful. Happily married with an adorable child. No wonder Sherry thought Danielle’s life needed an overhaul. Compared to Carrie…well, there was no comparison. Not really. Her life was literally going to the dogs.

  “Oh. My. Goodness.” Sydney started shooting photos right away, keeping up a stream of steady commentary on the adorableness of each puppy. She paused to switch to a video camera, cooing at the puppies the whole time.

  Sweet Pea and Tilly put on quite a show for her, tumbling over each other and chewing on each other’s tails. Daisy, Pinto, and Monki scampered around Carrie’s feet, and Junior, the runt and puppy who looked most like Sarge, made a beeline straight for Danielle. Danielle didn’t want to commit yet, but she was fairly sure he was about to become her third dog. In a small cottage. It was insane. She should find him a better home. She reached down and scooped him up, nuzzling into his puppy-smelling fur. Just not yet.

  Flurry and Luna eventually ambled over to greet the visitors while the rest of the puppies slept on, oblivious to the chaos around them.

&nb
sp; “Do you mind if I give myself a tour?” Carrie eyed the living-room-turned-puppy-room with some distress. “To see where the people live?”

  “Make yourself at home.” Danielle moved into the kitchen. “Tea?”

  “No, thanks. I’m ready to work.” Sydney plopped onto the floor, taking more photos with every breath. Roxy gnawed gently on her outstretched foot.

  Danielle put the kettle on, more to soothe herself than anything. Carrie came back in, flowered notebook open and in hand. Her eyes visibly measured the kitchen, and she jotted down a few notes.

  “What’re you doing?” Danielle lifted the kettle as soon as the water bubbled. She didn’t like to wait for the whistle.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just doodling.” Carrie sat on the one kitchen chair at the bistro table, so Danielle leaned her hip against the counter and held her mug in both hands. “This place is quite a challenge, even for one person. But you’ve got ten dogs, Danielle. In what? Seven hundred square feet, give or take? That’s seventy square feet per being. You really need to zone better.”

  “Sure. I’ll get on that.” Danielle smiled over her cup. “Zoning.”

  “Are you laughing at me? You know people pay for my interior design advice.” Carrie shut her notebook and clipped the pen to the cover.

  Danielle’s smile grew. “Not dog people.”

  “I’m a dog person!” Carrie lunged to her feet. “Those are fighting words. Beckham is a part of the family!”

  “Sorry.” Danielle held up one hand. “Thanks for the advice.”

  “My mom told me to come with Sydney today. She’s worried about you living out here all by yourself.” Carrie’s return smile invited Danielle in on the joke.

  But Danielle didn’t think it was funny. “Translation: she wants to turn my home into her crafting cottage or something?”

  “My mom? Crafting!” Carrie laughed so hard she had trouble catching her breath. She bent at the waist like she was getting a cramp.