Authors: Kim Watters
No.
The answer startled her.
She wanted Grant to notice her, and hold her tight and love her for what she was.
Chapter Nine
Sarah heard the faint meowing over the steady drizzle of cold rain Friday morning. Pulling the collar of her coat tighter around her neck, she leaned her bike against the dumpster in the parking lot behind the clinic and followed the sound, Rocky at her side.
The high-pitched meow seemed softer now, more pitiful, more desperate, as she searched for the source. “Where are you, kitty?”
The garbage bin was empty, as was the drainpipe and the discarded cardboard box nearby.
At five in the morning, the only light available shone from the pole overhead. She wished she had a flashlight, or at least the headlight from her bike, but the batteries had died again on her way to the clinic this morning. Grant wouldn’t be too happy if he knew she’d ridden most of the way in the dark, but she was a big girl and had taken care of herself most of her life.
The thought of Grant brought a smile to her lips despite the rain, which in the past few minutes had turned to a steady downpour. The heavy drops plastered her hair to her head and she had no doubt her new mascara was running down her cheeks. So much for her new look, but that was the least of her problems. She had to find the kitten.
“Where do you suppose he is Rocky?” He cocked his head as he looked at her, his ears raised ever so slightly in an inquisitive sort of way. Sarah swore he understood everything she said to him as she reached out to his wet head. “Can you find the kitty?”
Some scent or sound must have caught his attention because he darted off, nose to the ground, straight to the back door of the clinic. A shoebox with holes punched in the top had been left off to the side.
“Good boy.” Sarah knelt down, almost afraid to open the rectangular box, but Rocky pawed at the top. From inside, Sarah heard the pitiful moan of the kitten. Gently, she lifted the lid to reveal a tiny fluff or orange half hidden in an old scrap of material. “You poor thing.”
She reached in and stroked its head. The kitten cried out again. Rocky stuck his head in the box and sniffed the scrawny bundle of fur, his nose almost as big as the kitten’s head. Then to Sarah’s surprise, he began to lick it. The kitten meowed feebly.
Sarah’s tears mingled with the rain. Someone had abandoned the kitten. She knew exactly how the little animal felt to be left alone and frightened, wondering what was going to happen next.
Memories of the day the State stepped in surfaced. For a week, she’d been living alone in that two-room mobile home, eating stale bread and cold beans. She’d even managed to get herself to school because it hadn’t been uncommon for her mom to disappear for a day or two. Except this time, she never returned, and it took the overburdened State days to find her.
Mrs. White had done her best to take care of her and console her, but even her neighbor couldn’t stop the social worker from ripping Sarah from her arms and transporting her to a strange neighborhood and family. And that hadn’t happened just once, but six times, not counting the times she’d run away and been brought back by the police.
She shuddered as a cold drop of rain slid under her collar and chilled her skin. Sarah would make sure this tiny fella wouldn’t experience anything quite as dramatic. As carefully as possible, she opened her jacket and shirt underneath and bundled it against her. Then she went to retrieve the keys and open the back door.
Once inside, she had no clue what to do. Removing her jacket, she pulled the kitten from beneath her shirt and placed it on the examining table. The poor thing sat huddled, shivering from the cold. Immediately, Sarah picked it up and took it to the back sink where she proceeded to give it a warm bath, then toweled it dry. Upon closer inspection, she figured the kitten couldn’t be more than a few weeks old.
And very hungry.
She rummaged around in the tiny refrigerator looking for some milk, but came up empty handed. All she could find was a half-empty carton of creamer, so she diluted it with water and placed the saucer in front of her new charge.
The kitten sniffed at the liquid and turned away. Sarah ran to the bin where they kept cat food for the resident stray out back Grant hoped to trap and spay, and set a few bits on the table. Nothing. She even placed the food into the cream, but the kitten just stared at her.
Tears formed in her eyes again. If she couldn’t get the kitten to eat, then it would die. And it would be all her fault just as everything always had been in her youth. It didn’t matter that she was a scared and lonely child, lost in a system supposed to provide for her. In every foster family, Sarah had been the scapegoat, the troubled one.
Clenching her hands into fists, Sarah shook her head to dispel those thoughts. She was not that helpless child anymore. Nor would she let her self-doubts overcome the years of self-discipline and her new-found confidence. She had to do something. And that something meant calling in sick to the restaurant so she could help the abandoned kitten. Then remembering Lorraine’s advice from yesterday, she called Grant before she lost her nerve.
Startled from sleep, Grant could barely find the phone on the nightstand next to his bed. “This better be good,” he mumbled to himself. The clock read 5:15 and Max and Matilda shifted from their sleeping positions at the foot of the bed.
“Morrison here.”
“Grant? Did I wake you?” Sarah’s voice at the other end of the line woke him instantly.
“Is something wrong?” He sat up in bed, displacing one of his cats who occupied the other pillow.
“No, not really. The animals are fine. Rocky’s fine. It’s…” He heard the hesitation in her voice. “I’m sorry I woke you. I’ll deal with it. Bye.”
“Sarah, wait.” The dial tone buzzed in his ear. He vaulted out of bed and headed straight for the shower, his morning jog on hold. He knew enough about Sarah to know the world could be ending before she’d ask anyone for help.
He arrived at the clinic in record time, glad Greer’s finest were probably eating. Charging through the back door, he stopped short, surprised to see Sarah bent over the examining table cooing softly. Shouldn't she have already left for the diner? Rocky sat patiently by her side, his tail thumping against the linoleum floor.
“What’s wrong?”
Sarah turned at the sound of his voice. “You’re here!” The surprise, mingled with pleasure, touched him as did the look of relief that flashed across her face. “You didn’t need to come. I would’ve figured something out.”
“But you shouldn’t have to. I’m glad you called.” Grant strode to the table. “What’s the problem?” He eyed the kitten nestled in Sarah’s hands. The orange feline barely filled her palm.
“Somebody left him by the back door.”
“At least they had the sense to leave him here instead of the side of the road.” Anger at the person who dumped the kitten coursed through him, especially since it affected Sarah in such a way. She looked vulnerable, so lost, and downright beautiful. He sucked in a breath of damp air and took in her new look.
Her damp hair had been cut to her shoulders, creating a riot of waves that framed her face. Bangs, along with a dusting of eye shadow, a coat of mascara that brought out the blue in her eyes, and her lips shone with a hint of gloss. The old Sarah had had a raw beauty that intrigued him. The new Sarah stunned him.
Grant wanted to take her in his arms, hold her, and not let go. Heck, he’d probably end up kissing her senseless. Then he’d really be in trouble because once he started, he doubted he’d be able to end it.
The kitten cried, breaking his train of thought.
“He’s hungry. I don’t know what to do. He won’t eat the food I put out, nor drink any cream.”
Grant picked up the ball of fluff, glad to see Sarah had kept it warm. The kitten was painfully thin, and no doubt hungry. A once over convinced him the kitten was healthy and a she. “Your kitten’s a she, barely three weeks old and not weaned from her mother so she won’t take regular food or milk yet. Not that you want to feed a kitten or cat milk or cream, they can’t really digest it.”
“Oh.” Something like a look of chagrin crossed her features. “I’m glad she didn’t eat what I tried to give her then. What do we do?”
Grant liked the way she included him in her problem. Whether Sarah realized it or not, she’d taken another big—no, giant—step in opening up to him. Smiling, he turned away and strode to the cabinets on the far wall.
“I keep this around for these types of emergencies.” He pulled out a bottle of powdered formula and an eyedropper. “Mix this together, following the directions, and then I’ll show you how to feed her.” The chime sounded on his watch. “It’s five-thirty. If you don’t have time, I can do it for you.”
“I have time.”
“Don’t you have to work today?”
Sarah hung her head. “I called in sick. Veronica mentioned the other day she was looking for more hours so I suppose she’ll be working mine.”
“Are you sick?” Concern laced his voice though he tried to hide it. Sarah had been working a lot. Her schedule demanded it. Maybe he should cut back on her time here, seeing as her bill had almost been paid off, but he didn’t like the idea of not seeing her almost every day.
“No.”
Grant smiled at her, relived. “Good. Glad to hear that. That means I can have you all day. I have a surgery scheduled for nine. With you here, it’ll go much smoother.”
He liked the idea of having Sarah with him the rest of the day. It would give him a chance to discover her plans for the future. He hoped they included staying in Greer.
After donning her surgical mask and gloves, Sarah lifted the gray tomcat out of the cat kennel and handed him to Grant. “What’s Galahad in for today?”
“We’re neutering him so he won’t sow his wild oats.” She watched Grant place him in a glass container that reminded her of a fish tank. “And hopefully it’ll keep him from spraying all over Mrs. Germaine’s house.”
“So why are you knocking him out this way instead of using a shot? Sarah adjusted the mask on her face so it fit snuggly over her nose and mouth.
“The recovery time is quicker.” He fiddled with the knob to the tank that controlled the flow of gas. “He’ll be out in a few minutes. Then we can start. Do you have any questions?”
Sarah shook her head. She had a ton of questions, but didn’t know where to start. Most of her learning came from observations and reading anyway. Books had been her one solace growing up, and magazines and newspapers kept her current with the world events even as an adult since she didn’t own a computer.
“So tell me, how long do you plan on staying in Greer?”
Sarah looked at Grant. The gentleness of his gaze loosened her lips and she found herself admitting things out loud she’d never said before. Grant had that effect on her. “I’m tired of running and living day to day. I promised myself I’d settle down when I found the right town. I think Greer is it.”
Plus, Greer had Grant and his family—both accepting of her. She’d be crazy to leave.
“I’m happy to hear that.” He moved a strand of loose hair from her face and placed it behind the strap of her mask with a simple caress. A tingling sensation sped through her. “I forgot to mention how much I like your new hair style. It suits you.”
Unused to compliments, Sarah was glad her mask hid the heat staining her cheeks as Grant turned away. She watched him lift the cat from the tank and set him on the metal table.
“Okay, here we go. Now place this over his nose and mouth.”
He handed her a plastic mask, then stepped in behind her, his body mere inches from her own. Sarah could scarcely breathe with her own mask on and Grant’s nearness made it even harder, but she forced herself to concentrate on the cat instead of him.
With his help, Sarah did as he instructed. Soon, excitement overruled her wildly beating heart at the prospect of seeing the procedure. So far, everything she’d helped with had been pretty routine.
Grant generally scheduled his surgeries in the mornings while she was at the diner to allow ample time for recovery. A twinge of guilt touched her, knowing she should be there right now, but Mabel could manage as long as Veronica was there.
“Good job. Now this machine keeps the oxygen flowing, as well as the gas that keeps him asleep.” He pointed to a square contraption with a glass container filled with gray beads, a bag, dials and tubes. “If the cat stops breathing or goes into distress, we’ll know immediately. Ready?”
At Sarah’s nod, Grant quickly explained about the instruments lying on the tray he’d set up, then about the procedure. “Okay, here we go.” In less than 10 minutes he was done. They’d worked in perfect unison, which didn’t surprise him one bit.
Grant was glad to see Sarah didn’t flinch. Aunt Mary usually left as soon as she pulled out his instruments. If he had any doubts about the idea that formed in his brain, they fell by the wayside as Sarah stood calmly beside him during the entire surgery. “You’re good at this, you know. Have you thought about what you’ll do once you finish the courses you’re taking now?”
Grant had to know. It would be a big step for both of them and one he was crazy enough to take. With luck, Sarah would be as willing, too. He trusted her, and if he didn’t know better, he could swear that despite the fact that she was technically his employee, he’d fallen in love with her.
Sarah removed her own mask and then stroked the still sleeping cat. Grant’s words made her nervous. He had a habit of being able to draw responses from her that left her feeling open and vulnerable and more confused than ever. “I suppose I’ll keep taking more classes until I have enough to transfer to a regular university.”
“And then what? What will you study?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.” At least not until now. Sarah never tried to think about anything in the long term because something always came up and she was on the move again.
He gave her a long searching look that quickened her pulse. “Maybe you should.”