Hal I want to talk to Izzy, but it’s eight o’clock and the doors have opened, and there’s suddenly a flurry of customers, with loud yapping from the waiting room as two tiny dogs with small-man syndrome decide they don’t like each other, so Izzy extricates herself from my grasp, gives me a quick smile, and heads off to deal with them. I watch her go, feeling a peculiar mixture of emotions—relief, pleasure, hope, and fear, all rolled into one. At least she’s here, I tell myself as I watch her deal firmly with the Jack Russell who’s fronting up the Maltese. I love the way she deals with animals. Young girls who declare they want to be vets usually think it’s all about cuddling fluffy bunnies and playing with kittens, but Izzy’s never been like that. She’s never shied away from the hard parts of the job. Dealing with the dogs who have heart failure, or broken legs. The mistreated animals, the abandoned ones. Telling an owner his beautiful Labrador is dying from cancer, and nothing can be done. The two of us have developed a thick outer shell, because you can’t do the job if you give in to your feelings. We’d be choked up half the time, and that doesn’t help the animals or their owners. When your GP tells you he’s worried about that mole on your back, you don’t want him to reach for the tissue box and blow his nose. You want him to be calm and reassuring, to be practical. And that’s what we’re like. She s eparates the two dogs without fear and scolds the Jack Russell, who sits sulkily like a boy who’s been told off in the classroom for flicking rubber bands. I lean on the doorjamb and watch her straighten and talk to the owner of the Maltese. Like me, she’s not in the SPCA uniform today. She’s wearing jeans that are cropped just below the knee and a long-sleeved burgundy top. The color suits her. It’s hot again, and, without thinking, she pulls up the sleeves of her top a little, to just below her elbow. I see it then—the puckered skin that extends halfway down her forearm. She gestures at her room, spots the scar, and pulls the sleeves down again before leading the way. I watch her go. I’ll catch up with her later. I’m not letting her go home today without talking to her. The front door opens, and Leon comes in. He glances over at Izzy’s room, sees her in there, then comes over to me, eyebrows raised. “She came in, then?” “Yeah. It’s all good,” I promise. I glance around me—Rosie came into the surgery a few minutes ago. She and Izzy are friends, although I’m not sure how close they are. I’ve always had the feeling that Izzy tolerated her because she was dating me, but maybe that’s my ego talking. I wonder what will happen when the two of them talk. Izzy won’t like that Rosie cheated on me, and it’s going to be really awkward if Rosie discovers how I feel about Izzy. Briefly, I consider asking Leon to fire Rosie. Then I discard it. That wouldn’t be fair, and anyway he’d probably say no and tell me the Ark comes first and I need to sort out any personal shit myself. “Albie heard from the police,” Leon says. “That guy who pulled the shotgun on you didn’t have a firearms license, so he’s in de ep shit.” “Good,” I say fervently. “I hope they fucking string him up.” “Well he won’t be able to have animals anytime soon, that’s for sure. How’s the dog?”
“Miss Daisy?” I checked on her when I arrived first thing this morning. “She had a good night. She’s going to be fine.” “Good.” He surveys me thoughtfully. “How’s Rosie doing?” “No idea.” I meet his gaze levelly, feeling about an inch high. The Ark means more than anything to all of us who work here. The last thing I want is to damage the wonderful working atmosphere we have. “Is there gonna be trouble?” he wants to know. I shrug. I suspect there is, but I hope I’m wrong. “All right.” He opens the door. “See you later.” He leaves, and I blow out a breath. I wonder whether Noah’s aware of what’s going on. Then I roll my eyes. Of course he is. He might be a recluse, but he maintains regular contact with us all. The heads of each d epartment r eport to him on a weekly basis over in the wing of the Ark where he lives. He’ll know that Rosie and I have broken up. I wince. He won’t be angry, but he’ll be disappointed in me. As will my own father, Brock. Noah’s still waiting for an answer to his business proposal. He said he’d give me a few weeks to think about it, and I suppose I should be giving it more thought. Instead, I’ve pushed it to the back of my mind. I have other, more pressing concerns right now. I huff a sigh and walk out into the waiting room where the Jack Russell is now yapping at a Golden Retriever, who’s managing to look surprised rather than alarmed. I’ll take the Jack Russell and get him sorted —he’ll be fine with me. Animals are so much easier to handle than people. No wonder I’m a vet. * Summer joins us in the veterinary center mid-morning. She’s Albie’s half-sister, nine years older than he is, and she has two kids by her husband, Zach. Summer has cystic fibrosis, a disorder that damages the lungs and digestive system. The life expectancy of a person with CF is an average of thirty-seven years—Summer’s age right now, but she’s never let herself be affected by that statistic. She took a degree in psychology and then decided she wanted to be a vet and went to veterinary college. Although she’s sometimes unwell, especially if she has a cold and a chest infection, she’s a happy, funny woman, and I love her to bits. I don’t know whether someone’s mentioned to her that I’ve broken up with Rosie, but she ke eps Rosie with her in her room for the day, which brings me no end of relief. The flow of customers through the surgery is nonstop, even with me, Izzy, Stefan, and Summer all working, and when it closes at twelve, we have to deal with two dogs that the Animal Welfare Team brings in. They’re from the same house, and they’ve been severely abused. One has a broken leg, and they both have broken ribs, gashes, and bruises. It makes me feel sick to think about how they received those injuries. How can any human being treat an animal like that? My tough outer shell seems to have thinned. After a couple of hours’ work, I feel the need to es cape, and walk away from the hotel, having left the dogs in the hands of the team who takes care of them once we’ve treated them. To my alarm, the first person I see is Martin Jensen—Rosie’s dad. I stop, wondering if I can duck out of the way, but he’s seen me, and the way he’s walking over to me tells me he’s come here for this purpose. He stops before me. He’s a thickset man, not unpleasant, gruff but fair, usually anyway. “Rosie tells me you and she have broken up,” he says. “Yeah.” I’m not sure how bad this is going to be. Rosie is an only child, doted on by her parents. His little girl can do no wrong in his eyes.
“She’s pretty upset,” Martin says. I sigh and study my shoes. “I know, and I’m sorry about that.” “She loves you, Hal.” “I know.” I grit my teeth, tempted to tell him that she cheated on me. But I ke ep quiet, holding that as ammunition in case I need it. Martin huffs a sigh. “She wants me to stop our contract with you. To take back all our vans.” I raise my gaze to his, feeling a surge of anger toward Rosie for playing that card. “I hope you won’t do that, sir. We have an excellent business partnership, and it would be a shame to ruin that for this. I treated Rosie well while we were together. Relationships end sometimes, and that doesn’t mean—” “All right.” He holds up a hand. “I told her business is business, and I’m not going to throw away a lucrative contract because of her love life. I’m disappointed, because you’re a good guy, and I thought she’d done well for herself. But you can’t force love, and I hope I’m a big enough man to acc ept that. I just wanted to say our partnership stands, and no hard feelings eh?” I nod and shake the hand he extends to me, and he walks away. I feel a swe ep of relief. At least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about. I debate whether to go into the break room and get a coffee, but then I see Izzy coming out, heading for the path that winds around the estate. She’s going for a walk. I run to interc ept her, walking backward in front of her until she stops. We survey each other for a long moment. It’s hot—too hot to be out in the sun, really, but Izzy’s wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, and her arms are covered anyway. I’ll probably get some color on the back of my neck today, but I’m pretty tanned already so I can take thirty minutes or so without burning. “I’m going for a walk,” she says. “I can see that. Can I come with you?” She looks at her shoes and stuffs her hands in the pockets of her cropped jeans. “I’d rather go on my own.” “Izz,” I say softly. “We need to talk.” Behind her, the sun is glinting off the Pacific Ocean, which is a brilliant blue. In the hotel yard, a dog barks with joy as someone sprays it with a hose. In the paddocks to the north, a horse whinnies. Izzy’s head is bent, and I can’t see her face. “We can talk here,” she says. “I’d rather have you to myself.” I don’t care what Rosie thinks if she sees us together, but I’m concerned about her making life unpleasant for Izzy, and I’d rather do this privately. Maybe Izzy guesses this, because she concedes, “All right, then.” We turn and head north, taking the path by the fence that goes around the paddocks, along the cliff overlooking the sea, and back to the Ark. It’s a thirty-minute walk. I feel a swell of exultation at the thought that I have her to myself for half an hour. For about five minutes, we walk in silence. The grass in the paddock is long and lush, and it’s filled with flowers of all colors. I know little about gardening, but I recognize pink wild antirrhinums, the brilliant yellow of buttercups, and daisies. They make me think of the dog we brought in yesterday, and I smile at the thought that
she’s doing so well. “Are you thinking about Miss Daisy?” Izzy says. “Yeah.” I like that she can read my thoughts. “How is she?” “Doing well. Jules cleaned her up and they’ve been rehydrating her in the hotel. She was quite perky this morning.” “I’m glad.” At least she’s not refusing to talk to me. We walk a little further, listening to the sound of the ocean in the distance. Wow, it’s hot. “Hey, Hector.” Izzy stops at the gate to the paddock. An old oak tree stands with feet planted beside us, throwing some welcome shade on the ground. We lean on the wooden gate, looking at the horse who comes trotting over to see us. Hector’s broken-hearted owners had to move to Auckland and couldn’t take him with them, so we said we’d try to re-home him. He’ll be going to his new owners in a few weeks. He nuzzles Izzy’s arm, and she laughs, puts her hand into her pocket, and brings out a p eppermint. Hector takes it from her hand, and she rubs his nose. She looks across at me then. “What did you want to talk about?” “Us,” I say. She looks back at Hector. “There is no us, Hal.” “Not yet.” She blows out a breath. There are a couple of inches between us. I purposefully don’t touch her, even though I’m standing closer than she prefers. It occurred to me last night, as I lay on Leon’s couch, that I need to treat Izzy the same way I treated Miss Daisy. I don’t know everything that’s gone on in Izzy’s life, but I know enough to understand that her scars are not all physical. She needs a gentle hand. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” I tell her. “I know it came as a shock.” She rubs Hector’s nose again. “Just a bit. I’m glad you’ve got over it, though.” I look down at her. “What do you mean?” “That you realize it was all a mistake.” My lips curve up. “What gives you that idea?” She looks up at me. “Albie told me you said you’ve been an idiot and gone about it all wrong.” “Well, yeah. That doesn’t mean it was a mistake.” We’re both wearing sunglasses, so I can’t see her eyes, but I can still tell she’s surprised. “Izzy,” I say patiently, “I acknowledge I probably shouldn’t have told you about Rosie and how I feel about you in the same breath. That was dumb, and I’m sorry about that. The fact is that Rosie and I haven’t been good for a while.” “She told me a month ago that you were going to propose,” Izzy says. I curse Rosie silently. “She told me we should get married, and it was then I realized I didn’t see a future for us together. I told her that I thought we ought to break up, but she cried and begged me to stay. I did, because I was
brought up to believe you do your best to make a relationship work. It was like a piece of fruit slowly rotting, and I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out.” She doesn’t r eply; she concentrates on Hector, but I know she’s listening. “You and I, we’ve been friends for a long time,” I continue. “Good friends. I wanted to take it further years ago, but I understood Fitz’s objections, and I told myself we’d just stay friends and I’d be happy with that. But I’m not. I want more.” She stiffens a little. “Does what I want count?” “Of course it does. And I swear, if you stand here and tell me you have no feelings at all for me, if you’re not interested in me romantically and don’t find me attractive, if you think I’m a second cousin to the Hunchback of Notre Dame...” She gives a short laugh. “... I’ll leave you alone. I swear.” She inhales, then exhales slowly. “You’re gorgeous, Hal,” she says quietly. “Of course I find you attractive.” I feel a brief surge of joy and have to hold myself back from pumping a fist in the air. “But...” she says, and my heart sinks. “I know this might sound odd to you, but I think too much of you—of our relationship—to sle ep with you. I don’t want to change what we have. We’re good friends. As you said, we’re pretty much as close as two people can be without sle eping together. And I don’t want to ruin that. If we sl ept together, how do you think I’d feel the next day when we come into work and you’ve got your eye on some new chick who’s flashing her boobs around? Don’t you realize that would break my heart?”