Page 85 of Clara Knows Best

She hesitated only a moment, but seemed to sense that she would not get a better offer, and nodded agreement.

He put a hand on the dog’s side, and felt a faint heartbeat. “It hurts,” he murmured. “Be patient, okay?”

The dog whined.

“You can save her,” Clara said again.

She was going to be bitterly disappointed when he couldn’t save the dog. Then again, there was nothing like a little crushing disillusionment to cool off whatever was heating up between them.

30

Jordan carried the dog into an exam room that Yoli had hurried to turn into an operating room before their arrival. She was excited, she said, to assist with her first-ever surgery.

Jesse removed his coat and carefully unfastened the sling. Then he unbuttoned his cuffs and Clara helped him roll his sleeves up above the elbow so that he could scrub in.

“Be careful,” she cautioned, feeling uneasy about his shoulder.

“It’ll be fine. The sling was just a precaution. See if you can get Dr. Ochoa on the phone.”

She couldn’t; the livestock vet was an hour away dealing with a foot-and-mouth outbreak, and he didn’t believe in cell phones. She could, however, get her mother on the line.

“Jesse is going to operate on a border collie?” Dr. Wilder repeated thoughtfully. “How unusual.”

“She’s just the sweetest, most pathetic thing,” Clara said around the lump in her throat. She tried to clear it, muttering, “I’m a total wreck. This is so unprofessional.”

“He must be optimistic about her chances if he was willing to do the surgery.”

“No, he said she’s dying,” Clara admitted. “Anyway, do you have any advice?”

“I think,” she said slowly, “I’m going to come in today.”

“What? Really?”

“I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“Thanks, Mom!” she exclaimed, overcome with relief.

Clara put the phone down and gulped in air, willing her tears to recede. She hadn’t started sobbing yet, at least, but it was a distinct possibility if she couldn’t get it together.

Jesse appeared in the doorway. “Dr. Ochoa?”

“Unreachable.”

“Did you reschedule our early appointments?”

“No, I’m on it,” she said quickly.

“The dog’s under,” he told her. “Pain-free, for now.”

Against her will, her eyes refilled, and she nodded rather than risk speaking. Jesse took one look at her and vanished down the hall again. She laughed shakily, and snatched up a Kleenex to wipe her eyes.

“Okay, appointments,” she told herself bracingly, and cleared her throat again before picking up the phone.

She was perfectly composed by the time her parents arrived, and while her mother let herself into the operating room, her father brought in a large dog crate.

“Did you borrow that from Aunt Liesl?”

“Uh, huh. She’s loaning you a leash and a water bowl, and she threw in a few cans of wet food.”

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