Page 38 of The Way Back Home

“I can stay here with her,” I say. “I mean, if you can’t do the surgery right away.”

Jude stares at me for a long moment. I glance away, unnerved by his scrutiny. “Didn’t you just find her by the side of the road?”

I shrug. “I don’t like to see animals suffer.”

“Well, Miss Anders, it’s your lucky day, because that makes two of us.” He smiles and places the scope around his neck. “Now, hold her tight for me, but don’t squash her. Try and keep her as still as possible.” I do as he asks and Jude pulls a needle from the drawer along with a small vial from the cabinet on the wall.

“I don’t care about the costs, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t, actually,” he says. “I was just thinking I need to cancel my date for the evening, because another little lady needs me more.”

I frown, confused by his forwardness.

“The pig, Olivia.”

“Right, of course.” I give a nervous laugh. “Sorry.”

He sticks the needle into the vial, drawing out a small amount of the clear liquid, and squirts a little out the end to release any air bubbles. “Hold her still for me.”

I do as he asks and with a yelp, she takes her medicine in the ear. I pat her back the way you would to calm a newborn baby. “Good girl, shh. It’s okay.”

“Let’s lay her down. She’ll be feeling those effects pretty quickly,” he says, and I gently lay her on her side, keeping my body close to hers, so she doesn’t feel abandoned. Jude works his magic, and for the next half hour the pig’s X-rayed, intubated, hooked up to a drip, and given a full checkup under the anesthesia. Jude goes about all this as if it’s second nature, and I suppose to him it is.

“She’s going to make it, right?”

“I’d say she got lucky. It looks like she was in that box a long time in the blistering heat. If you hadn’t come along and found her, accosted the town veterinarian, and ruined his date, she’d likely be dead in a few hours.”

I roll my eyes. “I hardly accosted you.”

“You were two steps away from busting my window in.”

I chuckle, and after all the tumult of the past few days, it feels nice. “You’re right, I likely would have.”

“So, how’s that shelter coming along?” He hands me a fresh set of scrubs. They’re pink, a women’s size small, and I’ll likely be spilling out of them in every which direction, but I accept them gratefully because it’s better than ruining my own clothes.

I walk into the adjoining room to change. Once I have on the scrubs—that make me regret my little Oreo addiction—I realize that my bruises are far more obvious with the V-neck, so I keep the bandana tied around my throat. “Well, two angry teens decided to remodel for me, which puts me back about oh, let’s see, a month or two? Not to mention I’m now expected to work with the little bastards—that was Sheriff Webb’s way of ensuring I didn’t press charges, I guess. Anyway, the town still hates me, and I’m still no closer to gaining support for the program.”

He whistles under his breath as I exit the change room and clears his throat to cover the gaffe. “It’s a small town. They’ll get used to you.”

“I’m not so sure,” I say. “The people here are really unpleasant. If it weren’t for you and August, I likely would have turned tail and run by now.”

He gives me a puzzled expression. “Do we know the same August?”

“Come on now, he’s not that bad. A little intense, but he’s—”

“Dangerous is what he is,” he says, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “But you don’t need to worry about the people of Magnolia Springs, and I certainly hope you’ve got no intention of leaving. Paws for Cause has saved thousands of lives. Don’t be modest, and don’t listen to what those jackasses say.”

I blush because I’ve never gone to work a day in my life for the recognition, but it’s nice to be praised all the same. “How do you know so much about my program?”

“Are you kidding? I was on the cover ofSouthern Vet’s Lifemagazine two years in a row. I read those issues front to back, and Paws for Cause is always in it. I read your article; you weren’t a blond then, but I knew your face the second I saw you at that Fourth of July parade.”

“Yeah.” I point awkwardly to my hair. “The bombshell is new.”

“Oh, I didn’t say you weren’t a bombshell. I just said you weren’t blond.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Shouldn’t you be splinting something, or operating?”

“You’re right, I should.” He shakes his head and lets out an amused sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “Do you give your Marines this much trouble?”

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