Читать книгу A Christmas to Remember - Rebecca Moesta - Страница 7

Chapter 3

Dr. John Blake only had a few house calls left for the day. As he drove, surrounded by the beauty of nature in Colorado’s high country, he couldn’t help but think how fortunate he was to live here. He braked suddenly as a squirrel darted across the road in front of his pickup, and then grinned as he watched it scamper off to the side. He and his children loved watching animals so much that he’d made a squirrel feeder in the shape of a small picnic table for their backyard. He started down the road again, glad that he had four-wheel drive and antilock brakes—although in truth, up here in the high country, those things weren’t so much a luxury as a necessity.

He headed back toward North Creek, Colorado, population 4,820, where he had been born and raised. Maneuvering through the heart of town, he waved to people on the street as he passed. Nearly everyone in North Creek knew everyone else. It had the perfect blend of small-town feeling and larger-town tourist amenities, with skiing and snowboarding in the winter, hiking and fishing in the summer, and festivals and cute shops year-round.

Activating his blinker, he looked in all directions before turning onto one of North Creek’s secondary roads. He was safety-minded. Might as well do all you can to protect yourself from things you can control when there are so many things you can’t.

A flash of sweet sorrow at the memory made him catch his breath. He shook off the urge to let his thoughts wander. It was Christmas, and he had good work to do. There weren’t many people in the world who had jobs they enjoyed so much and the kind of deep connections he had with his patients and their families.

He pulled the truck up in front of the house of his next appointment and checked the clock on his phone. Good, he was running a few minutes early. He had plenty of time to spend. He never liked to leave a family feeling worried or shortchanged because he’d had to leave in a hurry. He thought of his patient, little Katy. Hopefully, there was nothing seriously wrong with her.

As he got out of the pickup, he grabbed his black leather medical bag, one of his few nods to formality in medicine. Life in Colorado’s mountains was more casual than in big cities. Today he wore a brown leather jacket with shearling collar and cuffs over a quilted vest and a fleece with a pair of comfortable jeans. As a Colorado native, he knew that layering his clothes was the trick to keeping warm. No hat or gloves today, but he always kept those in the truck for occasions when he was going to spend a long time outside.

The house was white, with red trim around the windows, surrounded by a wooden picket fence. A waving inflatable Santa stood in the front yard beside a bird feeder. A wide front porch that ran the entire width of the house was decorated for Christmas. Fir garlands accented with frosted red bows and tiny clear lights lined the porch rails, and strings of colored bulbs draped the row of spindly balusters above the porch frame.

John knocked beside the glass on the front door. Nancy Varney, a short, kindly-looking woman with graying brown hair and rimless glasses, answered the door.

“Nancy, how are you doing?” he asked.

“Dr. Blake, thank you so much for coming. Katy just doesn’t seem herself,” Nancy said in a rush. She opened the door wider for him to come in.

“Well, let’s take a look at the little patient.” John walked into the living room and saw Katy huddled on a cushion on a rattan chair. “There she is.”

“I guess I’m just a nervous mom,” Nancy said, looking for all the world like the librarian she was. She fiddled anxiously with the strand of pearls visible at the neck of her cream ruffled blouse and purple sweater.

Katy, his feline patient, was a chocolate-point, doll-faced Himalayan. John approached Katy slowly, holding out his hand to her and speaking in soft tones. The blue-eyed cat sniffed him.

“How are you doing, sweetie? Let’s take a look here,” John said, gently stroking Katy’s forehead with the backs of his fingers.

“This morning Katy tried to jump onto the curio cabinet, but she slipped and fell,” Nancy explained. “She hasn’t been herself since then, and she limps when she walks.”

John had Nancy hold Katy while he examined her. He shared his findings as he worked. “She’s alert and responsive. That’s always good. Temperature and heart rate just slightly elevated. Her coat looks healthy, and you’re doing a great job with the grooming.” He felt along the cat’s neck and stomach. “No lumps or enlarged lymph nodes. Okay, let’s see how she walks.”

Nancy put Katy on the floor, went to the other side of the room, and called her. The cat gingerly hobbled over to her.

John nodded. “She’s definitely limping on that right hind leg, but she is using it. That’s encouraging.”

Nancy picked Katy up, and John examined each of the cat’s legs, starting at the foot and working his way up. He saved the injured leg for last.

Katy flinched and gave a short waowrr when he touched it.

“It’s tender, isn’t it, sweetie? I’m sorry. We’ll get you fixed up,” he said in a soothing voice. Then he told Nancy, “The leg is warm and sensitive right now. It’s a sprain, but we can treat it right here at home.”

Nancy looked relieved.

John gave Katy a shot of Meloxidyl. “This is just a low dose of anti-inflammatory to help with the pain.”

Nancy made them a pot of tea, and they sat while John explained how to care for Katy’s leg injury.

“She needs to be kept quiet for a week or so—no energetic playing with string and no jumping. If she doesn’t start to feel better within a few days, we may need to do an X-ray, but we’d have to take her to Boulder for that. Don’t worry. I think this will clear up pretty quickly.” John took a long sip of hot tea. “A little bit of rest is all she needs. Katy is going to be just fine.”

“How are your kids?” Nancy asked. She held Katy still on her lap, petting her.

John brightened. He loved to talk about his children. “Good. Jamie is reading every book she can get her hands on, Kyle wants to be a vet just like his old man, and Daisy is…Daisy.”

Nancy nodded with understanding. “Have you decided what to do about your practice?”

“Well, I’ve got my eye on a spot in town where I’m thinking of setting up my office,” John said. He didn’t like the idea of adding monthly rent to his expenses, but a town the size of North Creek needed a physical veterinary facility that could handle surgery. For a few years, he had mostly been making house calls and seeing an occasional patient at his house, but his practice had outgrown the tiny home office.

“What about the barn where your wife kept her horses?” Nancy asked.

John felt a pang at the reminder of Julie. It had only been three years since he and the kids lost her. Sometimes the pain of that loss still felt fresh—usually in the evening after the kids had gone to bed.

John and Julie had met in her hometown of Fort Collins while he was in veterinary school and she was an undergrad. Julie loved horses, and many of their dates involved horseback riding. Once when he was on call, Julie had actually helped John deliver a foal. After they moved to North Creek, having a barn at their home had allowed her to buy Aragorn, an Arabian chestnut gelding. She had supplemented their income by boarding other horses and giving riding lessons.

Everything about the barn brought back happy memories of his petite blonde wife—Julie mucking out the stalls, grooming Aragorn, storing massive bales of hay for neighboring ranchers, teaching Jamie to ride. The building represented all those happy times to John. If he cleared Julie’s gear out of the barn and gave the place a different purpose, might he lose some of those precious memories? His heart couldn’t risk it. The barn was too important.

“Such a beautiful old building,” Nancy said.

“Yeah, it is. It’s just… I’m not sure I’m ready yet.” For a moment, he was lost in thought. Then he said, “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a few more house calls to make.”

“What do I owe you for today?” Nancy asked.

John shook his head with a smile. “No charge—it’s Christmas.”