Page 37 of The Way Back Home

THE FIRST DAY WORKINGwith my perps is a nightmare. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m glad August is here, because if he weren’t, I have no doubt they either would’ve up and left, or continued vandalizing my shelter as if I weren’t even in the room. They’re just boys of seventeen, but it’s evident that in their own minds, they’re men. And there’s nothing more dangerous than a kid chock-full of testosterone with no concept of self-preservation. They got to work quickly, but they were right little assholes about it, sassing me and saluting August when he gave them orders. I could tell that didn’t sit right with him, and for a moment I thought maybe he was going to kick some teen ass, but he simply clamped his mouth shut so tightly I thought I heard his teeth squeak.

Two hours later, when he leaves to pick up Bettina from school and take her to her ballet classes, the boys wait long enough for August’s car to be a trail of dust in his wake, and then they turn to me with defiant glares and head for the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Bite me, bitch,” Beau says.

Josiah hesitates, glaring at me before kicking over the can of paint he was using. He follows his friend out the front door. I race across the room to save the thick liquid spilling out all over the concrete. I’d planned to cover the floor anyway, but I don’t like wastage. It’d been drummed into me from the time I was a kid old enough to understand the word. That was when my daddy was still around, before he was killed by friendly fire. Before our lives turned to shit.

I right the can and look down at the mess. I don’t want to cry over a couple of dollars of spilled paint, and yet the tears spring into my eyes anyway, and I sit down hard beside the mess.

I have a half a mind to return the keys to the realtor, tell them to sell the shelter for whatever they can get, pack up my things, and head for Fairhope—for home—but my daddy never raised a quitter. I care about this town, even though its inhabitants have been less than welcoming. I care about August and Bettina Cotton, and I care about the veterans here who just need someone to reach out to them, so I get up, I dust myself off, and I get back to work.

At five p.m. Sheriff Webb shows up, and she is not impressed that our perps have vanished. I pity those boys because I barely know this woman, but already I know she doesn't make threats lightly, and she promises to return bright and early with our criminals—as in six a.m, early. I cringe internally. I have no desire to get up that early, but I don’t let her know that because unlike Josiah and Beau, I do not have a death wish.

***

AFTER THE SHERIFF LEAVES, I set off for Tanglewood as the sun dips lower in the sky. I’m daydreaming, and nearly run my bike off the road when I see a box moving up ahead on the shoulder near the State Park bridge. My heart sinks because I know what that means, and while it will never make sense to me how someone could dump puppies or kittens by the side of the road, I know what to expect once I open the lid. I climb off my bike and lay it down in the soft grass. A squeal full of fear and pain comes from inside the box. I open it, and the squeals grow louder. A tiny pink and black snout stares back at me. The piglet backs up against the cardboard to get away, almost tipping the thing over, which causes him to squeal even more. It’s evident he’s lame. One cloven hoof is swollen and bent at an unnatural angle.

Whoever dumped him deserves to rot in hell. It’s clear from the lack of mud and filth that he isn’t a farm animal, but likely a pet. There’s an old flannel blanket inside the box, but not much else. I pull the messy cloth from his jail cell and cover the piglet’s face as I lift it carefully and hold it close. He squeals and squirms in my arms, but I hold him tight.

“Shh, let’s get a good look at you,” I whisper in a calm even tone, despite my rage. “Shh, shh. You’re okay.”

Despite the injured hoof, the piglet burrows in against my chest, likely terrified that I’m going to put it back in the box. “It’s okay. I got you.”

I stumble over to the bike and transfer the animal’s weight into one hand so I can set him in the basket. He squeals, and I cover his eyes with the cloth.

“We’re just gonna take a little trip, okay?” I climb on the bike and ride as carefully as I can toward the center of town. I hope Jude was right about me bringing patients by at any time, because after punching Magnolia Springs Veterinary Clinic into the GPS on my phone, I make a beeline for his clinic on Pecan Grove Street. As I turn the corner into his drive, the piglet and I nearly come off the bike and go flying across the pavement because Jude is backing out and almost runs right over the top of us. I grab the pig and hold it close to my chest, abandoning the bike in the driveway behind his car. I slam my free hand down on the trunk. “Wait, wait, please wait.”

Jude scrambles out of the car dressed in a blazer, a blue button-up, and slacks with shiny black shoes polished to perfection. He’s a picture of old money meets new. His clothes are modern—designer. All the latest cuts, colors, and fabrics, but that stiff upper lip screams centuries of good breeding. I can tell my jaw is hanging open because ... pretty. What is it about country men that’s just so damn attractive?

“Olivia, are you okay? I didn’t see you there,” he says.

“I ... yeah. I’m fine.” The piglet struggles in my arms. “I found this little guy by the side of the road, dumped in a box.”

He sighs. “Wouldn’t be the first time sadly.” He strokes the pig, who hasn’t stopped wrestling in my arms since I picked him up. “Come on inside. Ruby has gone for the weekend, but if you wanna play nurse, we’ll take a look at her.”

Do I wanna play nurse?I swear, I blush from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair. “Sure.”

Jude leads the way, and I follow him into the building, which I’m assuming is an old homestead turned into a veterinary office. It’s painted in cool blues. The floors are covered with a light gray linoleum. There are portraits on the walls of cats and dogs melting in Dali fashion. It’s a little creepy, in an edgy way, so I guess it’s forgivable.

Jude wanders through the office, switching on lights as he goes before leading me to a little operating theatre at the back of the building. There are no Dali animals here, but stainless steel everywhere and surgical implements being sterilized in large metal trays filled with solution. This isn’t my first time in a veterinary clinic. I worked as a receptionist for a clinic when I was in community college. I thought that was what I wanted to do, until I realized that some of the animals that came in went home again in a disposals bag. I couldn’t deal with the pain, and I quit after my first month, deciding I needed to find another occupation in which I could help my animal friends.

Jude raises an eyebrow and indicates toward the examining table while he snaps on a pair of latex gloves. I set the piglet down, and it attempts to hobble away. It doesn’t get far. Jude holds it with a firm hand over its shoulder blades. “Okay, pretty girl, let’s have a look at you.”

“Girl?” I send him a puzzled expression, and he smiles and checks her rear.

“Girl.” He nods and gently lifts her tail. She bucks beneath the weight of his hand. “Right there is her urogenital papilla.” I lean over and look at the two small openings, feeling a little awkward checking out a pig’s butt.

“Shit,” he cusses as he feels her skin. His clear green eyes meet mine across the table.

I shake my head. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s pretty badly dehydrated, and the left anterior leg appears to be broken, but I can’t tell how bad it is without an X-ray.”

“Oh you poor darlin’,” I smooth my thumb over her forehead.

He takes the stethoscope from off the counter nearby and listens to her heart while he speaks. “I’m gonna need to sedate her and run a couple of tests, X-Rays, and then surgery. I could give her something for the pain and wait until morning, but with no one here to monitor her overnight, she could go into shock if the meds wear off.”

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