Say Goodbye for Now Page 4

  “Good,” Pete said.

  And they walked again.

  “That’s the kind of thing I’m picky about,” Pete added.

  About two miles later, when the road had turned into a tunnel of leafy trees with not a single car in sight, Pete began to worry that he was leading someone besides himself too close to the lady doctor’s place.

  “I think maybe I better go on from here on my own,” Pete said. “No offense. Just that . . .”

  “Yeah, I know,” Justin said. “So as not to break a promise.”

  “Right.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “Oh, I expect you will,” Pete said. “I’ll be around all summer.”

  Justin peeled away for home with a wave that looked a little despondent.

  Pete stood and watched him go.

  It hit him then, for the first time, that he was scared of what lay ahead. He was scared to go see a lady doctor who didn’t like anyone but animals and only wanted to be left alone. He regretted not having a friend along on this next part. Even a very new one.

  Still, a promise was a promise.

  Chapter Three: Dr. Lucy

  She cursed all the way to the door—this being broad daylight and all, and just one time of many when she preferred not to be bothered. She could barely hear the curses over the baying of the dogs in their outdoor runs.

  She collected herself for a long moment, then swung the door wide.

  Standing on her doorstep was a boy who looked to be a very big, husky twelve years old, or maybe thirteen or fourteen with a baby face and a too-childlike demeanor. His thick, dark hair was cut short, with clippers from the look of it. His eyes remained on his feet, never looking up at hers, as if he’d already decided she must be a biter.

  He also seemed intimidated by the barking dogs, as if a forced meeting with them could happen at any moment. Each jump in their volume brought a wince.

  “I don’t want any,” she said.

  “Of what, ma’am?”

  “Whatever you’re selling.”

  “I’m not selling anything.”

  “Then you must have the wrong house. Because there’s no way I could have any business with you.”

  The boy stepped sideways two paces.

  Behind him on her walkway sat an old rusted Radio Flyer wagon with two of the wooden rails missing. On the wagon was what appeared to be a wolf-dog. If she’d had to make a quick guess, she’d have said a hybrid of wolf and Alaskan husky or malamute. A good seventy-five or eighty pounds. Its left hind leg rested on the right one at an unnatural angle.

  She looked into the animal’s eyes, and he looked back.

  She had seen that look before. Many times.

  The wolf-dog was plainly out of options. And even though it wasn’t right for an animal to know so much, he knew this was his last chance. He would get help here—from her—or there was no help to be had for him in this world.

  Dr. Lucy averted her eyes and sighed.

  “How did you find out about me?” she asked the boy.

  “I can’t say, ma’am.”

  “You can’t say because you don’t know? Or you can’t say because you know but you can’t tell me?”

  “That second thing, ma’am.”

  The moment stretched out. The silence seemed to put pressure on the boy, like a foot on a toothpaste tube. Words squirted out.

  “I found him on the highway. He’d got hit. I tried to take him to the vet. But the vet wouldn’t touch him. I think he’s not a very nice man. Well, I guess from what I heard, you’re not, either. Well, not that you’re not a nice man. Of course. ’Cause you’re not a man at all. Not a nice woman, is what I heard. Oh crud. What am I saying? Sometimes when I get nervous I don’t notice that just the wrong thing’s about to come out of my mouth. Anyhow, if it helps to know it, what I heard about you was part good. I heard you’re nice to animals, which is really all our situation needs. Anyway, the vet said he was wild, and that he won’t treat wild things, and that it was dangerous to even have him in the waiting room. But he’s so broke up, he wasn’t coming off that wagon to do no harm to nobody. Sorry. Any harm to anybody. That’s what I meant to say.”

  Then he stopped, as if desperate for breath.

  “He’s not wild,” she said.

  The boy looked at her face for the first time. Then at the wolf-dog. Then back to her face.

  “How can you tell, ma’am?”

  “First of all, you’d be more likely to come dragging up here towing a purple kangaroo than a wild wolf. They’ve been bounty hunted near to extinction.”

  “I didn’t know that,” the boy said.

  “And there’s another obvious clue. One that the idiot Dr. Morton would have noticed if he’d been using his head. He’s not a nice man. You were right about that. He’s also not a very good vet. He moved out here from two of the bigger cities because he couldn’t sustain a practice where there’s competition.”

  “Not sure I follow, ma’am.”

  “If there’s more than one vet in an area, the best ones get the business.”

  “That makes sense,” the boy said. “But you still didn’t say—”

  “He’s had his rear dewclaws removed.”

  The boy ran his eyes over the animal, seeming not to know where to rest them.

  “Look at his front legs,” she said. “Just above the paws. See how he has that extra claw on the inside? Higher up?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I thought all dogs had that.”

  “They do. But they’re also born with dewclaws on the back as well. But most breeders take them off when the pups are very young. If he’d been born in the wild he’d still have them. Plus there’s an even easier way to tell. You put him on that wagon, right? And you’re standing on your feet talking to me. And I can’t help but notice you’re not bleeding out.”

  “Well, that could’ve gone more than one way, ma’am. He did growl and bare his teeth at me a couple times. I had to sit with him for hours before I dared try.”

  She tried to look into the boy’s eyes, to take a better measure of him, but he turned his face away.

  “That was an awfully brave thing to do,” she said.

  “I just figured I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I up and left him there after looking into his eyes. You know how it is.”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “I know all too well.”

  Another long silence.

  “Well,” she continued, “I can’t say for a fact that he hasn’t been living on his own for a time. How long a time, we’ll probably never know. But he knew people at some point in his life. So, fine. We’re in this now, aren’t we? Okay. Just leave him here. I’ll take some X-rays and then do whatever bone repair seems indicated.”

  The boy looked up into her face, his eyes wide. He seemed more surprised than necessary by her simple instructions.

  “Oh, I can’t do that, ma’am.”

  “Then how am I supposed to fix him?”

  “He’ll be here for you to fix, all right. That’s not the worry. But I can’t leave him. I can’t leave him until I know for a fact he’ll be okay. See, I made him a promise. I promised him if he came along with me he’d be okay. I kind of half wish now I hadn’t. I learned a lesson from that promise. Because sometimes it’s outa my hands whether somebody else is okay or not. But for this promise it’s too late. I made it. And now I’m with him and he’s with me until we know he’s okay.”

  Dr. Lucy stared at him for a long, discouraged moment. Then she sighed deeply.

  “You don’t have parents who’ll be looking for you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll likely take a whipping from my dad when I do finally get home. But I can’t think of that just yet. I promised, and here I’ll stay.”

  “Well,” she said, and loosed another deep sigh. “I guess you two had better come in.”

  “How old are you?” she asked him, while she prepared a handkerchief soaked in ether.

  “I’m twelve, ma’
am.”

  “Hmm,” she said. Not purposely out loud.

  “Hmm what, ma’am?”

  He stood near the wagon, which he’d towed into her examining room, one hand on the wolf-dog’s head. She wondered if this was the first time the boy had dared touch him.

  She dropped the soaked handkerchief onto the wagon in front of the animal’s chest, then used her hands on the boy’s shoulders to guide him through the living room and out the door.

  “Where’re we going, ma’am?”

  “We’re going to wait outside for a minute.”

  They stepped out together into the scorching afternoon sun. Dr. Lucy pulled a cigarette from her shirt pocket and lit it, drawing deeply. She looked up through the leaves of the nearby trees, which stood utterly still in the windless heat.

  “It’s just that . . . ,” the boy said, and then seemed to fade for a time. “I figure when people say ‘hmm’ they tend to be thinking something. So I guess I just wondered what you were thinking.”

  Dr. Lucy blew a cloud of smoke out into the hot air.

  “I suppose I was thinking you look older.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m real big for my age. Biggest in my class.”

  “And also that maybe in some ways, when you talk . . . maybe you seem younger.”

  “Oh. Well. I’m not the smartest kid in class, if that’s what you mean. Kind of sorry you brought it up, though. I try not to think about that if I can help it.”

  “Why not? It’s not an insult, you know.”

  “Of course it is. Not being smart? That’s a bad thing in anybody’s book.”

  “Let me tell you something, kid—”

  “Pete.”

  “Fine. Pete. Let me tell you something, Pete. Smart is overrated. Most of the harm done in this world is done by people who fancy themselves smart. And they are—book smart. But most really smart people have no sense. They value their brains too highly. I’d rather have someone with sense. And a little heart. Now come on. We’re going back in.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He followed her through the living room, stopping briefly to stare into the open faces of Archimedes and Angel. As though this was the first he’d noticed them. And maybe it was. Maybe he had been able to entertain only thoughts of the wolf-dog on the first trips through.

  “Those are some beautiful big birds,” he said.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “The owl had a badly broken wing. He tried to swoop down and fly through the headlight beams of a moving car. The eagle was shot.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad.”

  Lagging behind, he followed her back into the examining room, which smelled strongly of ether. She opened all the windows and turned on the two fans.

  “Oh no!” he shouted when he saw the wolf-dog slumped unconscious on the wagon, head trailing toward the linoleum floor. “What happened to him? What did you do?”

  “Well, you certainly didn’t expect me to operate on that leg while he was wide awake and feeling pain, did you? That would be cruel. Not to mention dangerous.”

  “Oh. He’s just asleep, then. Phew. Scared me.”

  “Help me get him up on the table.”

  She lifted the animal’s front end, and Pete lifted the back. The wolf-dog’s head lolled. With a grunt or two from each of them, they managed to slide him onto the table.

  Dr. Lucy examined the developed X-ray film—clipped to a light box on her wall—for an extended time. Partly just getting her thoughts together. It was better than she had feared. A greenstick break in a long bone. It would require screws to repair, because it was up high toward his hip. But so much better than shattered bones in or around that hip socket. It made his prognosis seem reasonably good.

  She left the X-ray hanging, the light on behind it, and moved back to the wolf-dog, who lay stretched out flat on the table. She had placed a cone around his muzzle so he could keep breathing gas throughout the procedure.

  She plugged in her clippers and began to shave the area over the injury.

  Pete jumped as the clippers came to life.

  She looked up at the boy. He was sitting on a stool near the operating table. He looked white, as if he’d seen a ghost. His eyes looked too unfocused.

  “You okay?” she asked him.

  “Feeling punk, ma’am.”

  “What variety of punk?”

  “Woozy.”

  “Probably the ether. Go stand by the window.”

  He did as he was told, but she couldn’t help noticing that his hands instinctively reached out for something he could use to steady his balance. He stood at the window and breathed deeply.

  She scrubbed her hands and pulled on her sterile surgical gloves. Then she painted the wolf-dog’s leg area with a skin disinfectant and made her incision.

  “Why were you nice to me, ma’am?” Pete asked. He was staring out the window as if enjoying the view. He looked a bit steadier.

  “Was I?”

  “More than I was set to expect.”

  “Hmm. Didn’t know I was.”

  The boy turned his attention back into the room. And saw that she had the wolf-dog’s leg open. She watched it register on his face.

  “Oh, holy cow,” he said, and waved like a stalk of wheat in a stiff wind.

  “Better sit down again before you pass out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He dove for his stool.

  “Wasn’t the ether this time,” she said, “was it?”

  “No, ma’am. I didn’t quite expect to look over and see the inside of that poor guy’s leg.”

  “You knew I had to open the leg up to fix it, didn’t you?”

  “No, ma’am. I broke my leg when I was nine, and the doctor just put a cast on it.”

  “This is broken too far up near his hip for that. It’s not an area I can stabilize with a cast. I have to put screws in it.”

  “Screws? In his bones?” He had his eyes pressed tightly shut.

  “That’s right. That’s his best bet for getting back up on it again anytime soon.”

  “If I pass out, don’t pay any attention to me. Just keep fixing.”

  “Put your head between your knees.”

  And he did.

  “I’ll tell you why I was nicer to you than most,” she said, gloved hands still working. Gently moving the bone back into alignment.

  “Thought you didn’t know you even were, ma’am,” he mumbled from between his knees.

  “Well, I thought about it. About you promising an animal who might be dangerous that you’d take care of him when you knew full well that taking care of him involved taking a big risk. When he’d already growled and bared his teeth at you. Most people would have just walked on. Maybe called the authorities to come out and put him down. But you sat there gaining his trust for hours. And then not being willing to go back on that promise . . . even after somebody put it in your head that he might be a wild animal. Well, he’s not. I’ll tell you another way we know for sure he’s not. He’s been neutered.”

  “Neutered, ma’am?” Pete asked from between his knees.

  “Fixed.”

  “Fixed how?”

  “Fixed so he can’t sire any puppies.”

  “Oh. That kind of fixed.”

  “A lot of people will do that to make a dog more tame. But once you do it, once you neuter a wolf-dog, it’s kind of a shame to put him back in the wild to fend for himself. Wolves are pack animals. They mate, and they raise pups. But if he can’t mate and he can’t raise pups, what’s he supposed to do? He’s pretty much destined to live his life alone. Not that he was likely to find a wolf pack around here. A dog pack, maybe.”

  First, silence.

  “That breaks my heart, ma’am,” Pete said weakly. After a while.

  “It should. It breaks my heart all the time, seeing what people do to animals.”

  “Is that why you don’t like people?”

  “Part of it
. That and what people do to each other. But I’d best concentrate on what I’m doing here when I go to set these screws.”

  For a good forty minutes or more, though she wasn’t watching the clock, the boy sat on the stool clutching his own head with his knees.

  Right up until the moment she said, “You can look up now. I have him all sutured back up.”

  Then he lifted his head and blinked into the light as if waking up from a disastrous dream.

  “How far away from here do you live?” she asked him.

  Pete had his front end draped over the kennel cage where the wolf-dog lay, still unconscious. The boy was staring straight down. As if the animal were just about to do something interesting.

  “It’s a real long walk,” he said. “I hate to even think about it.”

  “Want me to give you a lift home?”

  “That’d be much appreciated, ma’am. But not till after he wakes up.”

  “That could take a while.”

  “Well, it don’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Sorry. I have to be here when he wakes up. Otherwise he’s just here, and in pain. And where am I? How’s he supposed to know I even helped him like I said? He’ll just know he’s in a cage and hurting like the dickens.”

  “I’ve got some painkiller going into that IV drip.”

  “Oh, well, that’s good to know, ma’am. At least he’ll feel better. But I need to stay. I need to look in his eyes and say, ‘There. I took care of you, just like I said I would.’”

  “No idea how long that’ll be.”

  “Oh heck, I got nothing but time.”

  “But you said you’d get a whipping when you got home.”

  “Oh, we’re way past whipping time, ma’am. So long as I’m going to get it, I might as well make it good.”

  Dr. Lucy sighed.

  “I guess if you want to lean on that cage for the rest of the day, go ahead. But I can’t just sit here with you and keep you company. I have to feed the dogs and the horses.”

  The boy’s eyes grew wide.