A Curve in the Road(24)

Dr. Payne looks up at me. “There’s definitely some infection around the incision, and you’re right—he has a fever. I’m going to give him some antibiotics, but I’d like to take him to the clinic for the night, maybe cut a couple of stitches to let the wound drain, do some blood work and an x-ray, and keep an eye on him. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course,” I reply, even though I can’t bear the thought of being separated from him again. “I just don’t want him to be uncomfortable or in pain. Please don’t let him suffer.”

I realize I’m preparing myself for the worst. It seems impossible to think positive thoughts when everything good in my life has fallen straight into the crapper over the past few days. I’m not sure how much more I can take.

Dr. Payne frowns at me with concern. “Are you okay, Abbie?”

Suddenly, the room is spinning. There’s a tingling in my head that mutates into a heavy fog. I feel an overwhelming desire to close my eyes.

The next thing I know, I’m on the floor, blinking up at Dr. Payne, who is leaning over me, cradling my head in his hand. “Just relax. Take a few deep breaths.”

I stare up at him, confused. “Oh God. Did I just pass out?”

“Yes, you fainted.”

He must have caught me on the way down.

“This is so embarrassing.” I move to sit up, but I’m feeling weak and groggy, so I lay my head back down on the cement floor. “How long was I out?”

“Not long. About ten seconds.” He listens to my heart with his stethoscope and watches my face intently. “Your heart’s beating pretty fast, Abbie,” he tells me. “But you probably already know that.”

“Yes. I think . . . maybe it was a panic attack.”

“Have you ever had one before? Have you ever fainted?”

I shake my head. “No, but it’s been a rough few days. I seem to be falling down a lot lately. I collapsed in the ER when Alan was . . .” I can’t finish the sentence. “And I didn’t eat much today.”

Only then do I realize that Winston is no longer curled up under the table. He’s sitting up, leaning over the top of my head. I tip my head back to look up at him, and he bends forward and licks my eyelids. I laugh and cup his big, furry, coned head in my hands. Thank heavens he’s strong enough to move.

“Good boy,” I say. “I’m glad one of us is feeling better. You gave me a good scare.”

My heart rate settles, and I manage to sit up. Winston lowers himself to the floor and rests his chin on his paws.

Dr. Payne pats him on the back. “I’d still like to take him overnight, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

With Dr. Payne’s help, I rise to my feet. He cups my elbow with his hand and doesn’t let go.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.”

He hesitates. “You should probably get checked out, just to make sure. You’ve been through a lot, Abbie. I think you should see your doctor.”

I know he’s right, but I can’t think about that right now. I’m worried about Winston, and I’m still reeling over what I learned about Alan today.

Dr. Payne finally lets go of my arm and turns to Winston. “What do you say, buddy? Do you think you can walk to the limo?”

“That sounds fancy.”

The corner of Dr. Payne’s mouth curls up in a small grin. “Even with the animals, limo usually gets a better reaction than ambulance.”

Either way, Winston shows no interest in getting to his feet.

“I’ll get his leash,” I say. “That usually starts his tail wagging.”

I run upstairs, but when I return, Winston is lying on his side again, eyes closed, and Dr. Payne is listening to his heart with the stethoscope.

My anxiety returns. “Is he doing okay?”

Dr. Payne removes the ear tips and drapes the instrument around his neck. “He’s the same.”

I squat down and hook the leash onto Winston’s collar, but he doesn’t even lift his head.

“I’ll carry him,” Dr. Payne says. “Would you mind getting my bag?”

“Not at all.” I pick it up, then stand back to give him room. He gently scoops Winston into his arms and carries him up the stairs.

Seeing Winston like this breaks my heart. He’s so weak in the vet’s arms.

We reach the kitchen, and Mom and Carla rise from the table.

“Is he okay?” Carla asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply. “He’s pretty weak. Dr. Payne is taking him back to the clinic for the night.”

I lead Dr. Payne to the front door. It’s below freezing outside, and I can see my breath on the air as we make our way to the van. The interior is equipped with oxygen, a folded-down gurney, a backboard, a large wire cage, and first aid supplies.

Dr. Payne strains to lay Winston down on the carpeted floor. Then he climbs into the back and moves him into the cage that’s bolted to the side wall. He closes the door and secures the latch.

Winston lies unresponsive, which causes a knot to form in my stomach.

“Mind if I come with you?” I ask Dr. Payne as he hops out and shuts the double doors. “You said your clinic was closed for the day. Your technicians must be gone. You might need some help?”

He stares at me for a moment, unsure.

I continue to plead my case. “Listen . . . I just really need to be with him right now. This has been the worst day of my life, which is saying a lot, and I know I won’t be able to relax if I stay here. I’ll be thinking about him the whole time and trying to resist calling you every ten seconds.”

Dr. Payne nods at me. “Okay then. I’ll need my jacket, though. It’s hanging in your front hall closet.”

“Great. I’ll go get it.” I hand him his vet bag and run back up the stairs.

Quickly, I explain the situation to Carla and my mother as I rifle through the closet. I also ask if Carla will pick me up at the clinic later.

She says yes, and I ask them to explain everything to Zack when he gets home.

“He can call me on my cell.”

I realize I never told either of them that I fainted in the basement, and I’m glad I didn’t, because they’d only worry more. They’d try to convince me to go to the ER tonight, when I need to be with Winston.

A moment later, I hurry out the door and hop into Dr. Payne’s vehicle.

He shifts into reverse, and we back out of the driveway.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dr. Payne’s Victorian home is brightly lit, with lights on in every window, but the clinic is dark. As we pull into the veterinary hospital parking lot, I wonder how often this sort of thing happens, and I hope his family is understanding.

I get out of the car and watch him slide Winston out of the van on a gurney. He hands me the keys to the clinic. “Would you mind unlocking the door?”

“Sure.” I lead the way while he wheels Winston across the paved lot.

A moment later, we enter the treatment area at the back. Dr. Payne switches on the lights and computers. He rolls Winston on the gurney toward a bank of white cabinets and locates what he needs to take a blood sample. Next, he takes Winston into a small digital-imaging room and turns on the x-ray machine.

“Can I do anything to help?” I ask at the door.

“No, I’ve got this,” he replies. “But if you’d like a cup of coffee, feel free to help yourself.” His hands are busy, so he tosses his head to gesture toward a door beyond the row of computers. “There’s a small staff room right through there.”

“Great. Would you like a cup too?”

“That would be great.”

Happy to feel useful, I remove my coat, set my purse down on a chair, and head into a small, newly renovated lunchroom with a stainless-steel fridge, a stove, contemporary white cupboards, and an antique pine table with four chairs. The coffee maker is one of those Keurig machines, so it’s easy to find everything and make two cups.

I peek my head out the door and see that Dr. Payne has already finished in the x-ray room. Winston is resting quietly on the gurney beside him while he sits on a stool and works with the blood samples he just took.

“Dr. Payne, do you take cream or sugar?”

“Black is fine,” he replies. “And call me Nathan.”

“Nathan.”

I return to the coffee maker and brew a second cup, and then I carry both mugs out to the main treatment area and set his down beside him.

“Thanks.” Seeming intensely focused, he takes a quick sip, then wheels his stool to a computer workstation and begins typing. “Would you like to see the x-rays?”

“I’d love to.”

I move closer to stand over his shoulder.

“Everything looks good to me,” I say, bending forward to look more closely. “What do you think?”

Nathan sips his coffee. “I don’t see any issues. But I still want to monitor that infection and see how he responds to the antibiotics. I’d like to keep him overnight.”

“Sure,” I reply. “But . . . should I stay as well?”

“You don’t have to.”

I glance over at Winston on the gurney. “I know, but I’d rather not leave him, and to tell you the truth, I’d prefer not to go home just yet.”

Nathan swivels around on his chair and looks up at me. “Is everything okay at home?”