As if sensing Gabby’s distress, Molly struggled to her feet and waddled over, nuzzling Gabby’s hand. Gabby stroked her fur, allowing it to run through her fingers.
“I wonder if it’s stress,” Gabby said, wishing her life could be more like Molly’s. Simple, without cares or responsibilities . . . well, except for the pregnancy part. “Do I seem stressed to you?”
Molly didn’t answer, but she didn’t have to. Gabby knew she was stressed. She could feel it in her shoulders whenever she paid the bills, or when Dr. Melton leered at her, or when Kevin played stupid about what she’d expected by agreeing to move closer to him. It didn’t help that, aside from Kevin, she didn’t really have any friends here. She’d barely gotten to know anyone outside the office, and truth be told, her neighbor was the first person she’d spoken with since she’d moved in. Thinking back, she supposed she could have been nicer about the whole thing. She felt a twinge of remorse about spouting off the way she had, especially since he did seem like a friendly guy. When he’d helped her up, he’d seemed almost like a friend. And once she’d started babbling, he hadn’t interrupted her once, which was sort of refreshing, too.
It was remarkable now that she thought about it. Considering how crazy she must have sounded, he hadn’t gotten upset or snapped at her, which was something Kevin would have done. Just thinking about the gentle way he’d helped her to her feet made the blood rush to her cheeks. And then there had been a moment after he’d handed her the napkin that she’d caught him staring at her in a way that suggested he’d found her attractive as well. It had been a long time since something like that had happened, and even though she didn’t want to admit it, it made her feel good about herself. She missed that. Amazing what a little truthful confrontation could do for the soul.
She went into the bedroom and slipped into a pair of comfy sweats and a soft, worn shirt she’d owned since her freshman year in college. Molly trailed behind her, and when Gabby realized what she needed, she motioned toward the door.
“You ready to go outside?” she asked.
Molly’s tail started to wag as she moved toward the door. Gabby inspected her closely. She still looked pregnant, but maybe her neighbor had a point. She should bring her to the vet, if only to be sure. Besides, she had no idea how to care for a pregnant dog. She wondered if Molly needed extra vitamins, which reminded her again that she was falling behind in her own resolution to lead a healthier life. Eating better, exercising, sleeping regularly, stretching: She’d planned to start as soon as she’d moved into the house. A new-house resolution of sorts, but it hadn’t really taken hold. Tomorrow, she’d definitely go jogging, then have a salad for lunch and another one for dinner. And since she was ready to get on with some serious life changes, she might just ask Kevin point-blank about his plans for their future.
Then again, maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. Standing up to the neighbor was one thing; was she ready to accept the consequences if she wasn’t happy with Kevin’s answer? What if he had no plans? Did she really want to quit her first job after a couple of months? Sell her house? Move away? Just how far was she willing to go?
She wasn’t sure of anything, other than the fact that she didn’t want to lose him. But trying to be healthier—now that, she could definitely do. One step at a time, right? Her decision made, she stepped onto the back deck and watched as Molly padded down the steps and headed toward the far end of the yard. The air was still warm, but a light breeze had picked up. The stars spread across the sky in random, intricate patterns that, aside from the Big Dipper, she’d never been able to discern, and she resolved that she’d buy a book on astronomy tomorrow, right after lunch. She’d spend a couple of days learning the basics, then invite Kevin to spend a romantic evening at the beach, where she’d point to the sky and ever so casually mention something astronomically impressive. She closed her eyes, imagining the scene, and stood straighter. Tomorrow, she’d start becoming a new person. A better person. And she’d figure out what to do about Molly, too. Even if she had to beg, she’d find homes for every one of those puppies.
But first, she’d bring her to the vet.
Three
It was shaping up to be one of those days when Gabby wondered why she’d decided to work in a pediatric office. She had the chance, after all, to work in a cardiology unit at the hospital, which had been her plan all the way through PA school. She had loved assisting in challenging surgeries, and it seemed like a perfect fit until her final rotation, when she happened to work with a pediatrician who filled her head with ideas about the nobility and joy of caring for infants. Dr. Bender, a gray-haired medical veteran who never stopped smiling and knew practically every child in Sumter, South Carolina, convinced her that while cardiology might pay better and seem more glamorous, there was nothing quite as rewarding as holding newborns and watching them develop over the critical first years of life. Usually she nodded dutifully, but on her last day, he’d forced the issue by placing an infant in her arms. As the baby cooed, Dr. Bender’s voice floated toward her: “In cardiology, everything is an emergency and your patients always seem to get sicker, no matter what you do. After a while, that has to be draining. It can burn you out quick if you’re not careful. But caring for a little fella like this . . .” He paused, motioning to the baby. “This is the highest calling in the world.”
Despite a job offer in cardiology at a hospital in her hometown, she’d taken a job with Drs. Furman and Melton in Beaufort, North Carolina. Dr. Furman struck her as oblivious, Dr. Melton struck her as a flirt, but it was an opportunity to be nearer to Kevin. And on some level, she’d believed that Dr. Bender just might be right. He’d been right about the infants. For the most part, she loved working with them, even when she had to give them shots and their screams made her wince. Toddlers were okay, too. Most of them had darling personalities, and she loved to watch as they cuddled their blankets or teddy bears and stared at her with guileless expressions. It was the parents who drove her crazy. Dr. Bender had failed to mention one critical point: In cardiology, you dealt with a patient who came to the office because he or she wanted or needed to; in pediatrics, you dealt with a patient who was often under the care of neurotic, know-it-all parents. Eva Bronson was a case in point.
Eva, who was holding George on her lap in the exam room, seemed to be looking down her nose at Gabby. The fact that she wasn’t technically a physician and was relatively young made many parents believe she was little more than an overpaid nurse.
“Are you sure Dr. Furman can’t squeeze us in?” She emphasized the word doctor.
“He’s at the hospital,” Gabby replied. “He won’t be in until later. Besides, I’m pretty sure he’d agree with me. Your son seems fine.”
“But he’s still coughing.”
“Like I said before, toddlers can cough for up to six weeks after a cold. Their lungs take longer to heal, but it’s perfectly normal at this age.”
“So you’re not going to give him an antibiotic?”
“No. He doesn’t need one. His ears were clear, his sinuses were clear, and I didn’t hear any evidence of bronchitis in his lungs. His temperature is normal, and he looks healthy.”
George, who’d just turned two, was squirming in Eva’s lap, trying to get free, a bundle of happy energy. Eva tightened her grip.
“Since Dr. Furman’s not here, maybe Dr. Melton should see him. I’m pretty sure he needs an antibiotic. Half the kids in his day care are on antibiotics right now. Something’s going around.”
Gabby pretended to write something in the chart. Eva Bronson always wanted an antibiotic for George. Eva Bronson was an antibiotic junkie, if there was such a thing.
“If he spikes a fever, you can bring him back and I’ll examine him again.”
“I don’t want to bring him back. That’s why I brought him in today. I think he should see a doctor.”
Gabby did her best to keep her tone steady. “Okay, I’ll see if Dr. Melton can squeeze in a couple of minutes for you.”
As she left the room, Gabby paused in the hallway, knowing she needed to prepare herself. She didn’t want to talk to Dr. Melton again; she’d been doing her best to avoid him all morning. As soon as Dr. Furman had left for the hospital to be present at an emergency C-section at Carteret General Hospital in Morehead City, Dr. Melton had sidled up next to her, close enough for her to notice that he’d recently gargled with mouthwash.
“I guess we’ll be on our own this morning,” he’d said.
“Maybe it won’t be too busy,” she’d said neutrally. She wasn’t ready to confront him, not without Dr. Furman around.
“Mondays are always busy. Hopefully we won’t have to work through lunch.”
“Hopefully,” she’d echoed.
Dr. Melton had reached for the file on the door of the exam room across the hall. He’d scanned it quickly, and just as Gabby was about to leave, she’d heard his voice again. “Speaking of lunch, have you ever had a fish taco?”
Gabby blinked. “Huh?’
“I know this great place in Morehead near the beach. Maybe we could swing by. We could bring some back for the staff, too.”
Though he had maintained a pretense of professionalism—he would have sounded the same way had he been speaking to Dr. Furman—Gabby had felt herself recoil.
“I can’t,” she’d said. “I’m supposed to bring Molly to the vet. I made an appointment this morning.”
“And they can get you in and out of there in time?”
“They said they would.”
He had hesitated. “Okay then,” he’d said. “Maybe another time.”
As Gabby reached for a file, she’d winced. “You okay?” Dr. Melton had asked.
“I’m just a little sore from working out,” she’d said before disappearing into the room.
Actually, she was really sore. Ridiculously sore. Everything from her neck to her ankles throbbed, and it seemed to be getting worse. Had she simply jogged on Sunday, she figured she probably would have been okay. But that hadn’t been enough. Not for the new, improved Gabby. After jogging—and proud of the fact that even though her pace had been slow, she hadn’t had to stop once to walk—she’d headed to Gold’s Gym in Morehead City to sign up for a membership. She’d signed the paperwork while the trainer explained the various classes with complicated names that were scheduled almost every hour. As she got up to leave, he’d mentioned that a new class called Body Pump was about to start in a few minutes.
“It’s a fantastic class,” he’d said. “It works the whole body. You get strength and cardio in a single workout. You should try it.”
So she had. And may God forgive him for how it made her feel.
Not immediately, of course. No, during the class, she’d been fine. Though deep down she knew she should pace herself, she found herself trying to keep up with the scantily clad, surgically enhanced, mascara-wearing woman next to her. She’d lifted and pushed weights, jogged in place to the beat, then lifted some more and jogged in place, over and over. By the time she left, with muscles quivering, she’d felt as if she’d taken the next step in her evolution. She’d ordered herself a protein shake on the way out the door, just to complete the transformation.
On the way home, she’d swung by the bookstore to buy a book on astronomy, and later, as she was about to fall asleep, she’d realized she felt better about the future than she had in a long time, except for the fact that her muscles seemed to be stiffening by the minute.
Unfortunately, the new, improved Gabby had found it exceptionally painful to rise from bed the following morning. Everything hurt. No, scratch that. It was beyond hurt. Way beyond. It was excruciating. Every muscle in her body felt as if it had been run through a juice blender. Her back, her chest, her stomach, her legs, her butt, her arms, her neck . . . even her fingers ached. It took three attempts to sit up in bed, and after staggering to the bathroom, she’d found that brushing her teeth without screaming took a herculean amount of self-control. In the medicine cabinet, she’d found herself reaching for pretty much everything—Tylenol, Bayer aspirin, Aleve—and in the end, she’d decided to take them all. She’d washed down the pills with a glass of water and watched herself wince while swallowing.
Okay, she admitted, maybe she’d overdone it.
But it was too late now, and even worse, the painkillers hadn’t worked. Or maybe they had. She was, after all, able to function in the office, as long as she moved slowly. But the pain was still there, and Dr. Furman was gone, and the last thing she wanted was to deal with Dr. Melton.
Without another option, she asked one of the nurses which room he was in and, after knocking on the door, poked her head in. Dr. Melton looked up from his patient, his expression becoming animated as soon as he saw her.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Sure,” he said. He rose from his stool, set aside the file on his way out, and closed the door behind him. “Did you change your mind about lunch?”
She shook her head and told him about Eva Bronson and George; he promised he’d talk to them as quickly as he could. As she left, she could feel his eyes lingering on her as she limped down the hall.
It was half-past noon when Gabby finished with her last patient of the morning. Clutching her purse, she hobbled toward her car, knowing she didn’t have much time. Her next appointment was in forty-five minutes, but assuming she wasn’t held up at the vet, she would be okay. It was one of the nice things about living in a small town of fewer than four thousand people. Everything was only minutes away. While Morehead City—five times the size of Beaufort—was just across the bridge that spanned the Intracoastal Waterway and the place where most people did their weekend shopping, the short distance was enough to make this town feel distinct and isolated, like most of the towns down east, which was what the locals called this part of the state.