“Yes, I do. Nobody’s here waiting for me, because Banana is chasing whoever it was off the property. You can still hear him.” The barks are fading in the distance as the clinic’s mascot pursues our burglar. I panic, thinking about him out there all alone with a bad guy. “Could you please make sure he’s okay?”
“I’m going to wait here with you first. Let’s go check the animals.” Ty gestures into the building.
I flip on the lights and run to the back room without another word, Ty following right behind me. The open space is lined on two sides with veterinary kennels, larger ones on the bottom and smaller ones in the middle and on top. Some of the patients who are able to vocalize start barking and meowing at my presence. A couple whine, but many of them remain silent. I take in all types of animals, and the wild ones know it’s best to keep quiet when bad things are happening.
I turn on the light, checking each cage to make sure my patients haven’t been disturbed. Intravenous lines and bandages all appear to be in place. The kennel that holds the great horned owl still has a sheet over it. I take a peek behind it to ensure that he’s still inside and not overly stressed. Thankfully, he seems no worse for wear. I know he’d rather be flying around catching mice and other things right now, but his wing needs another few days of healing before he’ll be able to do that. Getting caught in a construction fence did a heck of a number on him. “G’night, Hooters,” I whisper.
I turn around to find Ty standing in the doorway. “Everything okay?” he asks.
I nod. “Doesn’t look like they were in here for the animals, at least.”
“Didn’t you have a computer at the front desk?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.
My chest suddenly feels tight. “Yes. Why?”
“I don’t see it where it usually is.”
He moves out of my way as I rush past him to run down the hallway. My destination: the front desk, otherwise known as Command Central, the nerve center of my operation, where I have spreadsheets that keep track of all the animals who’ve come in, their care records, donations received from the public, and vet bills paid to the visiting doctor who’s contracted to do surgeries and come up with the treatment plans I follow for each animal. When I get there, my heart sinks down into my toes. Sure enough, someone has yanked the laptop from its cables and it’s nowhere to be seen.
“Dammit!” I yell out into the lobby. I face the door and shout, “Banana, I hope you tear him a new butthole!”
Ty comes up next to me. “How do you know it was a ‘he’ who stole your laptop?”
I glare at him. “You know very well it was a man. Girls don’t break into buildings and steal computers.”
He gives me a charming half grin. “Why, Miss Rose, I do believe that’s just a little bit sexist.”
I punch him lightly on the arm. “Don’t try to make me laugh. I’m not in the mood.”
“Just tell me you backed everything up.” He picks up the end of one of the cables. “This sucks.”
“I did back it up, but that’s not the point. I don’t have money in the budget for another computer, and even if I did, I’d have to hire an IT guy to come out and do everything for me, like transfer the data and software and all that junk. I don’t have money for that either.”
Ty drops the cable he was holding and shakes his head. “I don’t know what it is with you girls.”
I fold my arms over my chest, sensing a lecture coming on. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means. All you have to do is say the word, and you’ll have ten million bucks of inheritance money dropped into your bank account from the band, but you refuse to do it. I don’t understand what the big problem is.”
I know a little bit about his history, so this is an easy debate for me to win, and I’m not in the mood to tiptoe around the facts to avoid hurting his feelings. “If your father offered you ten million bucks, would you take it?”
He laughs. “Hell yeah, I would.”
I raise my eyebrow at him. “Even if taking it meant that you were okay with everything he did to you all your life?”
His good cheer drops away. “Yeah. Even then. People can make you say what they want you to say, but all that really matters is what’s in your heart.”
“Good. Then we agree.”
He frowns. “We do?”
“Yes, we do,” I say in a light and airy voice. In his effort to convince me to accept the fortune my mothers’ boyfriends tried to bribe me with, he reminded me about what’s important: my heart and my soul. And neither of them is for sale.
Not agreeing to take the money offered on behalf of the band by their lawyer, Greg Lister, doesn’t make me unreasonable. I appreciate the fact that our mothers lived the way they thought was best and made choices in their pasts based on their limited understanding of the facts—leaving their positions as groupies to the band Red Hot without telling our fathers, the band members, that they were pregnant with us three girls. As a result, my sisters and I had a good life. But we also missed out on a lot of things, including having a relationship with our fathers, and it’s not just because our mothers left without saying a word. It also happened because those men made it clear pregnant women weren’t welcome in their lives, and they never tried to track our mothers down either. We can never get that back, and the money isn’t going to change anything. It may make our lives a little easier now, but I’m not convinced that easier is better in the long run.
If I take that money from those men, it means that none of it mattered to me, that their letting our mothers disappear without a trace doesn’t mean anything, and that their using our mothers for partying and sex is of no consequence. But it does matter . . . a lot. I’m not going to dignify their behavior by accepting their payoff. Just because our mothers are okay with letting bygones be bygones, it doesn’t mean I have to sign up for that plan. I have my own life and my own mind, and I’m not going to just adopt someone else’s way of thinking because it would be convenient for everyone.
The band members seem nice enough now, and I know they regret their ways, but it doesn’t erase any of the past for me. It doesn’t take away the pain. I always wondered what it would be like to have a father who was there for me to talk to, to take walks with . . . to know he was there protecting me, thinking about me, looking out for my best interests, and teaching me what he knew about the world. But because of the decisions those men in the band and our mothers made, my sisters and I didn’t get that. Those men were out there, alive and well, but they were too busy being famous and using other women to bother finding out about our mothers and, as a consequence, us. To put it simply: we got shafted.
I try not to be bitter about it, but I always fail. Maybe one day I’ll be able to move past it, but today is not that day. And besides . . . Ty is full of crap. I’ve heard enough of his story from my sister Amber and from Emerald too, since Ty and Sam are brothers. I know these men carry a deep resentment for their father in their hearts, and there’s no way they’d take anything from that man, not even a pile of money. Besides, they don’t need to take a payoff from a ghost in their past. They’re doing pretty well now, being in the employ of Red Hot, the hottest rock ’n’ roll band of the last two decades. Sam’s songwriting is really coming along, and Ty’s role as guitarist has totally been solidified over the past few months.
“You should call the cops,” Ty says, pulling me out of my sad little thoughts.
I flop down in the front desk chair, feeling totally dejected. Why did this happen to me? Is this my karmic punishment for being unforgiving?
“I know.” I sigh loudly. “Could you do me a favor, though?” I look up at him, pleading with my eyes. “Could you go check on Banana? It’s possible he has somebody pinned down near the entrance of our property, and I don’t want to get sued for that, too.” I’d go myself, but I’m worried someone might come back here and mess with the animals. Anyone who’d steal a computer from a nonprofit animal rescue is capable
of anything, in my mind.
“What do you mean ‘too’?” he asks. “Have you already been sued?”
“Yes.” I gesture at the room. “Thanks to this.”
Ty looks around. “Because of the animals?”
“The animals. The building. Me.”
He leans on the counter with one hand. “I don’t get it.”
I feel so tired all of a sudden. “It doesn’t matter. Suffice to say there will always be people in the world who will try to get you down. You just have to ignore them, and when they sue you, hire a good lawyer.”
He smiles. “I take it you have one.”
“Oh, yes.”
“And you’ve won these lawsuits?”
“Every single time.” I smile faintly at the memory of our last run-in with the town council. They tried to claim I didn’t have the proper license to run this business, but they were wrong. They’ve also tried to claim that I provide veterinary services without a license, and they were wrong on that count too. If they’d even bothered to talk to me before they wasted the town’s money on a lawsuit, they would have known that I always hire veterinarians to come in and do all the medical procedures. I’m basically just an assistant and a bookkeeper who also cleans up animal poop and dog vomit in her spare time.
“I’ll go check on the dog. Want to call the house and get some of the other guys down here to keep you company?”
“Sure.” I’m not going to do that, but it’ll make him feel better to think that I will, so I lie. After what happened tonight, I’m not leaving here, and more people means more arguments about it. They’ll say it’s not safe for me to stay alone, and I’ll have to remind them that I’ve done it hundreds of times before, and they’ll disagree . . . It’ll just be a mess.
Instead, as Ty leaves the building, I pick up the phone and call the police. The dispatcher is the only one there right now, and after I explain what happened, she tells me somebody will be out in the morning to write up a report. I guess the robbery of an animal clinic doesn’t constitute an emergency to anyone but me.
After ending the call, I rest my head down on my folded arms on top of the desk. Everyone keeps telling me I need to put a cot in here somewhere, so I can get a proper night’s sleep when I’m with the animals, but I don’t have room for it. For years, my bed has been this desk, and my arms have been my pillows. I’m dozing off in no time.
CHAPTER THREE
A strange sound and a blast of cold air pull me out of my sleep. I lift my head from my numb arms and look up to find Ty standing in the doorway, holding Banana in his arms.
I leap to my feet and run over. “Oh my . . . where did you find him?”
“He was in a ditch next to the main road.” Ty is grunting with the effort of carrying him. It’s no wonder . . . he has to have walked almost a quarter mile. A quick glance at my watch tells me I’ve been sleeping for almost forty-five minutes.
“Follow me.” I lead him into the first exam room, going through the door ahead of them so I can be on the opposite side of the stainless-steel table.
“Lay him down here.” I stare at Banana’s face, wishing his eyes didn’t appear so glassy. My heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. “Oh, Banana, what happened to you?”
After Ty places him gently on the table, I begin my preliminary examination, checking over his whole body. There’s blood on his fur, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from. He picks up his head and whines at me, which I’m going to take as a good sign. I’d rather him complain than fade away.
“What do you want me to do?” Ty asks. I’ve never seen him look so angry before, like he wants to punch someone in the face.
“Call the vet, Dr. Masters.” I’m pretty sure I’m holding a broken leg in my hand right now. “His number is on the wall behind the front desk.”
I lean down and look into the eyes of my baby, Banana. “You’re going to be okay, little guy, I promise.”
His tongue comes out to lick my chin, and I start to cry. “Please don’t leave me,” I beg in a whisper.
Thirty minutes later, Sam joins us in the exam room after being called in by his brother. Ty is in the other room, waiting for the vet to show up. Sam isn’t saying anything; he’s just staring at the dog. Banana licks my hand and whines, making me think he wants me to comfort him some more. Or maybe he’s being his typical Banana self and trying to comfort me.
I lean down and kiss him on the head. “You’re gonna be okay, buddy. We’re going to fix you right up. You’ll be as good as new in no time.” I’m fighting back the tears and anxiety that threaten to overwhelm me.
“Who would do something like this to an animal?” Sam asks.
I straighten, gently petting Banana on the neck—the one place I know is not injured, thanks to the X-rays I took. “My guess is . . . somebody who would also steal a laptop from a nonprofit animal rescue.”
“I want to murder somebody right now.” Sam seems surprised at his statement.
“You and me both. And believe me, as soon as I get Banana back on his feet, I’m going to be on a one-woman mission to figure out whose ass is going to get buried in an unmarked grave.”
Sam reaches over and squeezes my arm. “Whenever you’re ready, just call up a posse. I’ll ride with you.”
Sam’s kind words fill my heart with warmth. He really is a good guy. I glance up at him and catch a strange expression on his face. He’s out of his element. Scared. Sad. I get it; I’ve seen it a thousand times. Injured, innocent animals are hard for some people to cope with.
“You’re good people, Sam. I’m glad you’re with Em and that you’re raising Sadie together and have a baby on the way. You make a beautiful family.”
His smile is awkward. “Thanks. I think you’re pretty cool too, and Sadie loves you. She really digs being here at the clinic with you and learning about all the animals.”
“Thanks.” I look down at Banana. He’s panting too much, which means he’s suffering. His gums are going pale, too. “I need to push some more painkillers into his IV. Could you stay here and keep him calm?”
“Absolutely. Do what you have to do. I’m here.”
As I gather the syringe and bottle of pain meds from the other room, I hear voices. Ty is back in the exam room with his brother. I work around them, giving Banana another low dose of painkiller. I can’t give him too much or I risk causing problems with the potential surgery he may need to undergo. I’ve learned so much under the supervision of Dr. Masters. I’m so happy he agreed to work under contract with the clinic years ago.
“You want me to get him some dog chow or something?” Ty stares at Banana, looking almost as helpless as the dog.
“No. No food. He’s going to need surgery, I think, and he can’t have anything in his stomach.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Ty asks, looking at me.
“He’s got at least a broken leg. Maybe some internal injuries, too.” I don’t have the equipment to test his blood count here, and none of the labs are open at this time of night, but judging by this leg, I think it’s likely that there’s more than meets the eye with his injuries.
“Did he get hit by a car?”
“Maybe. It’s hard for me to say.” I stroke Banana’s neck, relieved to see his respirations calming a bit.
Sam looks at his brother. “We’re putting together a posse after everything is taken care of here.”
“Do we know who did this?” Ty looks from Sam to me.
“No. But we’re going to try and find out,” Sam says, sounding very sure of himself.
“I’m in.” Ty exchanges a high five with his brother. I offer my elbow, not wanting to get anything from the dog’s injuries on to their hands.
I stare down at my sweet little Banana Bread, aka Banana Muffin, aka Banana Pie, aka Banana Buns, always a bit small for his breed but so huge in his heart. The poor thing has already gone through so much—at least one car accident where he lost one of his legs. It happened when he was a puppy.
Thank goodness a Good Samaritan was there and was kind enough to pick him up and bring him here.
I can’t believe this is happening to him again. He deserves so much better. The vet has to fix this leg, because Banana can’t afford to lose another one. A tear slips past my defenses, and I wipe it away quickly. Sam and Ty both reach across the table, each of them putting a hand on my shoulders.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Ty says.
“Yeah. Don’t worry,” Sam says. “It’s going to be fine.”
I nod, hoping they’re right.
CHAPTER FOUR
It takes the vet much longer than it normally does to get here, and I’m on pins and needles the entire time we’re forced to wait. I’ve worked with John Masters, DVM, for several years, and he’s usually quick to respond to my calls. It’s getting close to midnight now, and Banana isn’t doing well. He’s drawing into himself to manage the pain. I’ve seen animals do this and then just disappear, never recovering. I’m trying not to panic too much. Banana has a strong spirit, no one can deny that. Please God, send me a miracle.
When John finally arrives and gets into the exam room to look at Banana, he doesn’t look very happy. It’s strange, because despite the sometimes grave injuries we’ve faced together, I’ve never seen him look even remotely distressed. I get the impression that his dark mood isn’t because of his patient.
“Is everything okay, John?” Maybe he’s not happy that I’ve called him in so late. I’ve done it before, but only for emergencies. This qualifies as one of those, though.
“Why don’t we talk about it after we get Banana stabilized?” he suggests, listening to the dog’s heart rate.
“Sure.” I thought my day couldn’t get any worse, but it sounds like it’s going to, if the tone of John’s voice is any clue. I’m not going to stress out about that now, though, because I have plenty of other things to worry about. Banana is my top priority, followed by recovering my laptop, and then murdering, or at least severely maiming, the person who took it and injured my dog in the process.