Rescue Me (10 page)

“You need to be a very good girl today for your test, okay? Listen carefully. Don't gobble the food or guard your bowl. And when they put a plastic hand in your dish, don't bite.”

She tossed in another cookie as if she knew I'd been too scared to eat the kibble the tech brought that morning. As if she knew this would help level the playing field when they did their food test.

“Be sure to share your doggie toys, okay?” she continued even though I didn't know what doggie toys were. “They're going to handle you, but be patient. It would be nice if you could wag your tail and let people pet you. And above all, please don't try to bite anyone because this temperament test is really important, sweetie.”

That was when I realized the day had come for my temperament test. Even with all the game-show help and her tips, I wasn't sure what that meant or what was expected of me.

One of the staff came to get me out of my kennel, a person in a uniform. “Ms. Gallo, it's time. You can watch with your friend through the window.”

She touched the wiry man's arm. “Thanks, Owen. I appreciate your letting me visit with her first.”

Mary Hannah passed the container of cookies to one of the other kennel techs to share with the rest of the dogs, then followed us down the hall. She whispered words I realized later were prayers.

We passed two other techs walking dogs back to the kennel runs, all of us on leashes and carefully kept apart. But I caught a hint of their stories. A beagle hung his head sniffing the ground, wondering how he'd gotten off track from his people. He'd just slipped out the front door for a quick run to check out a turkey smoker down the road. Would his people look for him?

A Weimaraner struggled against the leash, pent-up energy making her frantic. She'd been left alone for Christmas break with a doggie door. The neighbor came by to feed her once a day, but she got bored and jumped the fence.

I made a mental note not to jump a fence—if I ever got one of my own.

Owen took me into a room with a couple of chairs, a blanket on the floor and a box, while Mary Hannah stayed out in the hall looking through a window with her policeman friend. I couldn't see what was inside the box, but I smelled treats. I would have been tempted to chew my way through the box for those treats, but with those cookies in my stomach, I could control myself.

That Mary Hannah was a smart lady.

Two people tested me—all of us, in fact. I didn't know then we were getting special attention, but apparently the director of Animal Control had taken extra interest in those of us from the meth house. At first, she just watched the test.

A kennel tech—the guy named Owen who had gotten me out of my kennel run—put down a bowl of food for me. Canned food. I'd never seen that before, and wow, it was tempting. Since this was a test, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, so I didn't touch it. Not at first. Owen nudged it closer and waited until I took a nibble and then—you won't believe this—just like Mary Hannah said, he brought out a fake hand attached to the end of a stick. That hand poked into the food again and again.

But I was scared of hands in those days. So I sat back. The hand moved away, and I ate again. We did that ritual for a while. A funny game really, but apparently that was okay because they didn't take the food away or stop the test.

Once the food was all gone, Owen petted me and I held still, just like Mary Hannah told me to. Although apparently I didn't do as well with that part of the test. They said I didn't “relax” into the stroke. I didn't welcome the touch, but since I didn't growl, I didn't fail.

The director—Ms. Taylor—stepped away from the door, coming closer to kneel beside me. Then slowly she reached for my paw. I didn't like being held that way, but she was persistent. She kept it up, too, with my other paws, even at one point hugging me and rolling me onto my back, which I absolutely did not like at all. But I still didn't growl and I didn't bite.

I never bit.

She let me go and I shuddered with relief. She made notes on the clipboard and had Owen sign at the bottom before she walked to open the door. “Mary Hannah, she passed.”

Mary Hannah smiled so widely I knew I'd more than passed. “That's great, Dahlia. Better than great.”

“I'm glad you're taking her, though, because even passing, there's no way she would get adopted here. She would stay curled up in that kennel run, terrified, which doesn't do much to entice people as they walk by. She needs serious socializing.”

“I understand she needs socializing, love, training, patience. But first, she needs a name.”

“She's yours now. Feel free to choose.”

Mary Hannah tipped her head to the side. “Something to do with Christmas since that's when her new life started. Something like . . .” She leaned and wrote on the paper, my test. “There. It's official.”

And that's how I finally had one name, sweetly spoken with love in a moment that changed my life forever. I had a long way to go, but finally, I had someone who cared. Someone who thought of me as more than Fat Mama, Bitch, Dumbass, Confiscate #8 or Shelter #S75230.

Finally, I mattered. Me. An individual being, not just a baby-making machine. And finally, I can introduce myself to you.

Hello, my name is Holly.

*   *   *

AJ HAD BEEN
to the county shelter on more than one occasion, but never with such an insider's view of what a temperament test entailed.

He'd been allowed to watch through a window, standing beside Mary Hannah. He could swear she'd barely breathed through the process. He'd held her hand, and she hadn't objected. Although the hand-holding wasn't sexual. But it was progress in another way. A new connection.

He wasn't in a hurry to push for more just yet. He'd won a huge victory in getting her to agree to work with him training a dog. He was curious which of the animals would be chosen for their training project, and yeah, he hoped it could be Holly even though he felt bad for all the animals seized from that hellhole.

The poodles and schnauzers had been clipped of the larger mats for comfort, but they still needed baths and professional grooming. They'd passed their temperament tests, too, but he didn't consider himself much of a little-dog guy. Not that he was going to get a choice here. Mary Hannah might choose one of those froufrou pups just to get back at him.

The male boxer was still at a vet clinic, having taken a turn for the worse. He was in critical condition, so he wasn't an option for training anytime soon, if ever. The mama boxer needed her overgrown, curled nails trimmed, then ground down, but by the way the guy Owen had signed the paperwork, and the reassurance from the director herself, the female boxer had passed. Mostly she'd just trembled in fear, but she'd never growled or nipped, even when the director came in and wrestled her to the ground. That dog had plenty of fear but zero aggression now that the drugs were out of her system.

Holly wasn't going to be an easy candidate. But she was the one he wanted.

The
click, click, click
ing of heels echoed as the director of Animal Control—Dahlia Taylor—approached the door again after finishing with the last of the other dogs. She wasn't exactly what he would have expected. Wearing jeans and leather thigh-high boots, she looked more like an edgy New York model than someone who wrestled animals to see if they would be safe in society.

“Well, Mary Hannah,” the director said. “If you're absolutely sure, they're all yours for the taking, even terrified Holly.”

“All the more reason to get her out of here.” Mary Hannah's big heart and generous nature wowed him all over again. He'd almost forgotten there were still pure people like her in the world. “The noise and the lack of human contact in a kennel run is the opposite of what she needs.”

“I agree.” Dahlia hugged the clipboard against her angora sweater flecked with dog hair. “I just want to make sure you know what you're signing on for.”

“Would you question Lacey if she wanted to take Holly?” Mary Hannah braced her shoulders, standing her ground for the cowering dog on the other side of the window.

“Honestly? I know Lacey better than you.” Dahlia frowned. “She has more experience in the field. I have to be certain for your safety and for Holly.”

Mary Hannah nodded. “Then we'll get Lacey.”

“Hey, no need to get defensive.” The director pulled the temperament-testing forms from the clipboard. “I want to save these dogs as much as you do, but there are only so many rescue slots to go around. The boxer's lack of socialization goes deep. She's not going to magically turn into Friendly Fido once she walks out of here.”

Mary Hannah looked back at the window, and the connection between her and Holly was damn near tangible. “I have to try. AJ has signed on to foster one of the dogs. Since he's right next door and can check in for help with her issues, Holly is the perfect fit for him.”

Nice.

No froufrou dog for him after all. He would be working with his favorite—the antisocial one. They should get along well.

Dahlia stepped back. “Fair enough—and thank you.” She ducked her head into the room. “Owen, you can release Holly to the Second Chance Ranch Rescue along with the poodles and schnauzers.”

AJ blinked in surprise. All the little dogs? They were taking every dog from the cabin—other than the sick male boxer? The Second Chance Ranch van was going to be jam-packed full of crates.

Mary Hannah secured her hold on Holly's leash attached to a harness. “Let's go, girl. Time for your freedom ride.”

As she led the dog down the corridor, she smiled at AJ, and joy radiated from her warm brown eyes that was every bit as mesmerizing as the kiss they'd shared last night. Her beauty and passion for this rescue took his breath away.

A low growl rumbled just ahead, yanking AJ's attention off Mary Hannah.

An employee held a yellow Labrador on a leash as he headed back toward the kennel runs. “The owner just surrendered this guy.” He shrugged. “Said they don't have time for him anymore and are tired of him digging out from under their fence.”

Some of the joy faded from her eyes, and he wanted to tell them to load up the Lab even though he wasn't one of the meth-house dogs. The yellow Lab snarled again, teeth bared.

Mary Hannah secured her hold on the boxer. “AJ, let's backtrack and go out a different door.”

He turned with her and reached for the doorknob just as the Lab lunged—

And chomped down on Mary Hannah's thigh.

Obstacle courses and injuries were as regrettable—and unavoidable—as eating bugs.

—HOLLY, ON
THE AMAZING RACE

P
AIN SEARED UP
Mary Hannah's leg as the Lab's teeth sank deeper. The attack had happened so fast, her head spun. AJ and Owen launched onto the dog to pry the terrified animal's jaws open. Holly flattened to the floor in fear, ears back.

The Labrador went limp, the male dog's aggression fading as quickly as it erupted. Still, AJ slid between her and the animal, shielding her as Owen made fast tracks in the other direction.

“Clear the hall,” Owen shouted, leading the dog toward the kennel runs, his commands growing fainter as he hustled away. “Stay back. Gerlach, open that door and prep a kennel.”

Owen and the petrified Labrador disappeared through the double doors into the section of kennel runs for strays and quarantined animals.

Mary Hannah's leg went numb, and for an instant she hoped her jeans had protected her and she would just have one heck of a bruise. She wanted to hold on to that hope but knew she needed to look down.

Ugh. Her head went woozy.

Blood oozed from four puncture wounds through denim. The bite would have been worse on bare skin, but still.
Ouch.
She swayed, and AJ slid an arm around her. Holly whimpered at Mary Hannah's feet, belly flat on the ground.

Dahlia sprinted from her office, flustered, her bootheels clicking double time. A strand of hair actually shook loose from her sleek French braid.

“What happened?” The director's face paled as she looked from Mary Hannah's leg to Holly cowering on the floor. “Did the boxer bite you?”

“No”—thank heavens, although it was still tragic news for the other dog—“it was the yellow Labrador that just went by. He lunged for Holly, maybe she's in heat and he reacted, or was just overwhelmed and scared? I'm not sure. It all happened so fast. The tech has already taken him to a kennel run.”

Dahlia drew in a shaky breath, composure sliding back into place as she took control. “Let's step into the clinic to flush out the puncture wounds with antiseptic before you leave for the emergency room.”

Emergency room? Mary Hannah balked. Hospitals still brought back too many memories of rehab and losing her baby. But there wouldn't be a way to avoid seeing a physician.

She braced a steadying hand on the wall by a poster for flea preventives. “I guess I'll need to check in with a doctor for antibiotics.”

“That looks deep. You may need a stitch or two.” Dahlia took her elbow gently. “Come with me. Sadly, this isn't the first time we've dealt with a bite incident, as you know, and I need to follow protocol for filing a report.”

Mary Hannah squeezed her eyes closed for a second, the weight of what had happened washing over her. A bite could very well mean the end of a dog's life. She swallowed hard and let herself lean back against AJ's arm as he guided her across the hall. Staff members nodded and waved, eyes filled with worry as she passed the front desk on her way to the clinic.

The discount spay/neuter clinic stocked the basics without frills, an exam and treatment area for the main room, with a small surgical suite to the side. The space hummed with activity. A wall of crates held sick or recovering animals. A vet tech was weighing a Great Dane. The veterinarian was spaying a cat while another tech monitored the anesthesia.

A vet tech Mary Hannah recognized as Vivian came bustling forward with saline solution, antiseptic and a pair of scissors. Her gym shoes squeaked against the tile floor. Mary Hannah eased into an office chair, her leg extended.

Vivian tossed down a thick towel and knelt beside her, all business and focus. “Sorry this happened to you, Mary Hannah, but I'm going to have to cut the leg off your nice trouser jeans to get to the wounds and flush them out.” She slid the scissors into the tear in the denim, going slowly to avoid bumping the punctures. “Detective, please hold her in case she passes out.”

“I'm okay. Let's just get this over with.” Mary Hannah tapped the director on the elbow while Vivian finished cutting away the jeans leg. “Dahlia, the dog was overwhelmed and scared.”

“Understandable.” Dahlia nodded. “But I still have to document and check the dog's intake record. His owner surrendered him, so hopefully there will be vet records. Maybe we'll luck out and he's up-to-date on his vaccinations.”

AJ went still beside her. His eyes shot to the director. “
Hopefully
there are records?
Maybe
he's been vaccinated?”

Mary Hannah already knew the chances were slim to none the dog had a current rabies vaccine. Few animals were ever surrendered fully vetted.

The receptionist leaned into the clinic with a folder in hand. She shook her head ominously as she passed it over to the director.

Oh hell.

Mary Hannah struggled not to wince as the cool cleanser splashed and stung over the puncture marks. “No rabies vaccination on record for the Lab?”

Dahlia thumbed through the paperwork, then sighed. “No veterinary care noted for four years. Definitely not a current rabies vaccination.” She snapped the file closed. “You need to get to the emergency room and see a doctor right away.”

“I figured as much.” She'd always known this was a possibility, working in rescue with neglected animals. She just hadn't expected to feel so shaky.

Or so grateful to have AJ's steadying presence beside her.

*   *   *

LACEY HUGGED THE
toilet bowl. Dry heaves pulled at her while her cell phone chimed on the floor beside her with text after text.

God, she didn't remember pregnancy being this draining. Maybe she really was just sick with the flu or some bad turkey.

Or maybe this was different since her last pregnancy had been a long, long time ago.

How was she going to keep up with teaching online classes, running the rescue and parenting her teenage son alone? But the thought of saying yes to Wyatt's proposal just to have help was completely repugnant to her. He deserved for her to be one hundred percent certain that she loved him and would have married him regardless of the baby.

She sagged back against the vanity cabinet, drawing in one unsteady breath at a time until her stomach settled. Not that she was willing to risk standing just yet. Staying as still as possible seemed the wisest move. She reached up for her cell phone to check the texts.

Damn. The number was staggering. Her phone lit up with missed messages from Mary Hannah, Dahlia, three Second Chance volunteers and a slew of numbers she didn't recognize but knew would be requests from people to take in their animals. She prioritized and started with the names she recognized.

Dahlia:
MH got bit by new intake, Lab, no rabies vac. On her way 2 hospital. So sorry. Pls let us know if we can help.

Lacey closed her eyes, her head thumping back. This was always an awful possibility working with animals. It had happened before and would happen again. The only question now was how badly Mary Hannah had been injured. Lacey moved on to the next text.

Mary Hannah:
Bit by dog on leg. Am OK. Puncture bite only. AJ's taking me to ER.

At least the wound wasn't as bad as it could be. Although the rabies vaccine series for humans wasn't a walk in the park.

Another text dinged.

Mary Hannah:
We have dogs in van. Didn't want to leave at shelter. Can u meet us at ER? Or should we unload at rescue first?

Good Lord, Mary Hannah was every bit as crazy as she was. Her thumbs flew as she typed:

Lacey:
I or volunteer will meet u at ER 2 pick up dogs. Take care of yourself.

She thought through the names of her most seasoned, reliable volunteers to figure out one who lived near the hospital and wouldn't mind being bothered the day after Christmas . . .

Zoe. Her husband worked holidays. They'd celebrated early.

Lacey sent off a text but could afford to wait only a couple of minutes before she would have to leave and get the dogs herself. She would just trade cars with Mary Hannah since she and AJ had taken the Second Chance utility van—an acquisition made six months ago, a big step in expanding her operation.

She'd been so proud to see her rescue logo on the side of the van. Today, she would need to take a barf bag to make it to the hospital. Good grief, she wasn't any better than Mary Hannah, disregarding her health for the sake of getting the animals out of the shelter as quickly as possible. Except Lacey needed to be careful now, in case.

Her cell phone chimed with an answering text from Zoe agreeing to pick up the animals at the ER and bring them directly to the Second Chance Ranch. Relief settled her stomach faster than any antacid. Now she would have time to ready spaces for the incoming animals, making sure each one had music and calming scented infusers. Even bland dog and puppy foods full of protein and probiotics to transition their sensitive systems to the new diet.

She texted Mary Hannah and AJ the update that Zoe would be waiting for them at the ER. Zoe would trade cars so AJ could focus on getting Mary Hannah treated and no worries about shuffling the animals to a different vehicle.

Lacey cradled her cell phone against her chest. How would she manage this if she had a baby, too? How much would her doctor let her do at the rescue if she was pregnant? Would she end up high risk because of her age? Worries piled on top of concerns in her already stretched-to-the-limit life. Fear alone was making her sick to her stomach.

Setting her phone on the vanity, she braced and rose slowly, hoping hard that her empty stomach was done protesting for the day. The floor seemed to rock under her feet for a few seconds before her world stabilized. The tile was cool and soothing under her bare toes.

She took a risk and brushed her teeth, praying the minty flavor wouldn't set off another episode. She spit and rinsed. So far, so good. She needed to change out of the sweat suit she'd worn to feed the animals and work on brunch.

She opened the walk-in closet, scanning the rack and shelves. She grabbed a long sweater and tried not to think about how it belonged to her dead husband, one of the few items of clothing she hadn't given away. Somehow this cable knit from Ireland had shown up in a batch from the cleaners after she'd purged the closet for Goodwill. She hugged it close, breathing in for an instant and finding Allen's scent was gone, even the memory fading.

Shaking off the whimsical thought, she tugged the sweater over her head, yanked on a pair of yoga pants and grabbed a black, fuzzy pair of fake Uggs. She could pull this off for a little longer, just to give herself time to think.

Her cell phone rang where she'd left it on the bathroom vanity—the tone just for Wyatt—and she snatched it up, her stomach fluttering. Their child moving? Not yet. It was too early for her to be feeling anything.

“Hello,” she answered breathlessly. “Did you need something?”

“Hey, babe.” His voice rumbled over the phone, low and deep like the bass singer in one of those male quartets. “Just checking to see if you heard about AJ and Mary Hannah.”

“About the bite at the shelter?” She shivered thinking about how bad it was and how much worse it could have been.

“Yeah, are you okay? Freaked-out?” Sounds of the police station echoed in the background, phones ringing and shouts for more coffee, then the door closing as Wyatt must have found a quiet room. “I wanted to see if you need help.”

“I've got everything covered,” she said automatically. She hated being dependent on anyone. The habit from years of independence as a military wife was hard to shake off. Her fingers skimmed over the frame by her bed, a small shadow box with two origami animals that Allen had sent her while overseas. His last gift to her in his last letter.

“Lacey?” Wyatt asked. “Are you still there?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, sorry. Zoe's picking up the meth-house dogs and bringing them here. She's leaving her car for AJ and Mary Hannah. I'll have a morning shift of volunteers to help me settle the animals and figure out how to swap the vehicles back.”

“Good to know.” He paused, and she could envision him chugging down coffee. “You do too much.”

“The fund-raiser is important to the rescue. Once that's past, things should be easier.” If she was pregnant, could she hold off telling the world until then? She would not even be three months pregnant by Valentine's Day.

She had her first doctor's appointment in a couple of weeks; she should at least wait until she knew for sure all was well. Maybe she was making excuses, but damn it, her peace of mind was important. Meanwhile, she would keep breaking the bank with daily at-home tests that kept saying negative in spite of the fact she was too young for this to be some menopausal scare.

“Lacey, I need a favor from you.”

Surprised, she sank down to sit on the edge of the bed. He never asked for anything from her—other than to get married. “What can I do?”

“Do whatever you can to facilitate AJ training the boxer for the competition. He really should take some time off, but he's resistant. I'm hoping that prepping for the competition will give him something else to focus on other than working the next case.”

His thoughtfulness touched her already emotional heart. “You're a good cousin to watch out for him this way.”

“I want to take care of you, too, Lacey.” His voice went softer, intimate.

She couldn't decide if she felt smothered or tempted. “I don't want to be a responsibility.”

“I know you can handle yourself just fine. I only want to share life's joys—and burdens—with you.” He was saying the words any person would hope to hear from a life partner.

She chewed her bottom lip before answering. “You sound too good to be true.”

“That's because I am.” As he spoke, she could hear the smile expand across his face. He said it with the right touch of humor so as not to come off as arrogant. “I'll let you go. Sounds like you have a busy day ahead.”