“McKay, Connor. This is Janna, and not usually. If Skittles and Giggles have been good girls, Janna treats them to a tablespoonful as a special mix.”
McKay Connor. For some reason the name sounded familiar. Which was his last name, and first? The one he’d responded with when she’d prompted with mister, maybe. “Well, Mr. McKay and Janna, it’s very nice to meet you both. I think all that’s wrong with your…skunk is she has, as Janna diagnosed, a tummy bug.” Vivian knelt to the child’s level to speak. “Would it be all right if Skittles spends the night here? I can tell better what’s wrong if I can watch her myself.”
Janna gazed up at her father with adoration. Viv felt a pang of remorse for something she vaguely recalled from her own childhood, before she became the huge disappointment her father now saw her as. There had been a time when Vivian looked up to her father for advice and comfort. A time when he’d gazed down on her with love and pride. Not anymore. If he noticed her now, it was to scrutinize her actions, condemn her.
“Dr. Dane?”
Viv blinked and glanced around as heat suffused her neck when she realized her mind had wandered shamelessly in front of clients. “I’m sorry, I… Where’s Janna?”
“She went to the truck to get Skittles’ blanket. Where would you like me to put her?” With care, Connor McKay lifted the black animal gently to his chest.
Viv led him from the exam room to a row of small cages and opened a lower one that would allow Janna to see her pet easily. “This will be fine. I’ll call you tomorrow, if that’s all right.” They walked back into the reception area as Janna returned.
Once Janna was directed to her pet, Viv consulted the computer with an extended glance at Connor. “Do I have a file on Skittles?”
“Check under Jelly Bean.”
Questions arose, but Viv squashed them down and typed in the suggested name. Surprisingly, the file opened, and she grinned up at Connor. “Scary how everyone in town seems to know Uncle Max’s filing system so well.”
“Scary? Because you don’t?”
“Well, yes. He had an unusual way to keep track.” She refocused on the computer. “I’ll skip the general office charge since it absorbs into the overall cost when treatment is involved. You don’t need to pay until you pick Skittles up, though. I’ll have your total then.”
“Fine. Wouldn’t it be the same with a conventional filing system? I mean the ABC system only works if everyone uses it the same exact way. Max may have filed by patient names, or nicknames like Jelly Bean, where you might use actual owner names.”
Viv raised her gaze at his words. He was right, again. She smiled. “If only I’d been a filing clerk in a previous life. But here, I never know what I might find a patient under by his system. He seemed rather fond of nicknames rather than a pet’s actual name.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure out your uncle’s compulsory system soon.”
“I hope so.” But her uncle was a bit eccentric. She needed to give Uncle Max a call. “If I kept files the way he did, I’d be more confused than the patients. Not to mention the owners’ confusion.” The huh? expression on Connor’s face dimmed her enthusiasm instantly. She talked too much, and now said owner displayed obvious confusion, as she’d predicted. She should have known her mouth would trip her up eventually. Didn’t it always? “Will you or Mrs. McKay be picking Skittles up? I prefer to keep confusion to a minimum when possible.” In business at least, since she seemed incapable of doing so in other aspects of her life.
Connor registered relief at the change of subject, only to frown hard. Her tongue stung from the pain her teeth inflicted on it.
“There is no Mrs. McKay, so I suppose it will be myself or my father, Levi.”
“Of course! Levi, Benny.” The older McKay had recently brought in his Golden Retriever for annual vaccinations. Viv laughed at the solved puzzle of familiarity. Unfortunately, Connor was watching her again as if she’d lost her noodles. Note to self: Viv stared hard at the computer monitor, silently blaming the machine for her communication failure, Mood swings are dangerous if handled improperly, or left in the wrong hands.
“Yeah. Thank you, Dr. Dane.” He started for the door, but paused.
His eyes darkened to a raw copper before he smiled. Her heart leapt in her chest, and then sank hard when Janna skipped up, and he bent to place a kiss on her curls. “Thanks again.”
“Bye, Doctor Dane. Thank you for helping Skittles. She said it really hurts.” Janna’s round brown eyes stared up at her.
Viv envied the innocence there. But another pang teetered on the edge of her conscience. The almost deafening inner tick-tock, tick-tock distracted her momentarily. She shook her head and forced a smile. “She did, huh?”
Janna nodded solemnly, and Viv wanted to hug the girl.
“Did Skittles happen to tell you where the pain is?” Wishful thinking, but something she would determine once the child and her father were gone.
“It’s her tummy.” Her little voice was matter-of-fact.
“Well, I’ll check her out.” She raised her gaze to Connor to catch him studying her closely, suspicion apparent. Did he think she wouldn’t know how to treat a skunk? “If there’s anything, I’ll call you. I assume the phone number in the file is current?”
“Yes. We’ll be out after two tomorrow afternoon.”
“All right.”
He led the child from her office without a backward look.
Viv went to the window to watch man and child until they rounded her building to the side parking lot. She was a fool. A clumsy one. She tossed a daggered glance at her shoes and knelt. With quick fingers she tucked the errant lace into her shoe…just in case, and then paced to the back room. She had a patient.
A skunk, but a patient, nonetheless.
* * * *
“I like her.”
“Who, sweetheart?” Connor glanced in the rearview at Janna on the way to her grandparents’ before school the following morning.
Her curls hung down, hiding her face. “Doctor Dane.”
Connor turned back to the road, recalling the early morning phone call from the woman in question. She’d called before seven, rather than waiting until later in the day. It surprised him when she’d confessed to calling before office hours to keep his daughter from worrying about her pet all day in school. She wanted Janna to know an X-ray determined Skittles had eaten something disagreeable with her delicate system, but was eating normally again. Antacids supposedly “fixed her right up,” according to the doctor.
Doctor Dane wanted to keep Skittles in observation the rest of the day to make sure there were no repercussions. Connor appreciated her gentle consideration for his daughter’s feelings, though surely, she was the same with all her patients, or their owners. In a small community folks talked to one another about things rather than the cool, impersonal interactions associated with the bigger towns and cities.
“I told you she was in town.” Janna’s tired voice brought him back to the conversation. He wished again for a later shift for her sake. The sun remained lazy so early in the morning, hugging the horizon as if it was loathe to rise higher any sooner than necessary. “Yes, you did.” Not exactly–she had told him Dr. Dane was in town, not a female version. Several times since, he’d wondered about the mystery woman who volunteered at that accident. That she was the new vet he hadn’t expected. Did she remember him too?
He parked in front of the garage and helped Janna out. She ran ahead to open the unlocked door, calling Heidi with her as she did. With his long shifts, he thought it safer for their dog to have someone with her constantly these days, though on days off they