“Dingo’s still in the back,” Amanda offered in response to the look on the face of his owner, who was obviously confused not to find her dog in the exam room.
“How is he?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
“He’s doing great,” Amanda said quickly to reassure her. “He behaved like a champ while we took X-rays and he’s still lightly sedated as we speak. We’ll take care of his leg while he’s still in that relaxed state, but first I wanted to talk to you about what we’ll do next.” Ms. Allen nodded and Amanda realized she hadn’t yet shared the information she was probably most interested in. “The good news is that he won’t need surgery,” she added hastily, producing an instant sigh of relief from her new favorite client.
“Oh that’s really good news. Thank you, Doctor.”
Amanda had hoped the time she’d spent apart from Joyce Allen would have weakened the effect the woman had on her, but as soon as the silver-haired woman entered the exam room she’d gone back to the nervous wreck she’d been earlier. She swallowed painfully, her mouth as dry as the nose of Mrs. Anderson’s poodle, who suffered from severe allergies.
“So what’s wrong with his leg, Doctor Carter? And what’s next?” Ms. Allen asked, keeping Amanda’s brain from wandering any further.
“Dingo has a sprain in his ankle. Fortunately the ligaments didn’t tear. In that case he would have needed surgery. That said, the ligaments were stretched pretty badly and Dingo will need weeks to recover from his little romp in the park.”
“I see,” Ms. Allen said, her face falling as relief was replaced with worries about the treatment of his sprain. Amanda couldn’t resist again covering her hand with her own, making every effort to bring her the comfort she needed.
“I’ll be with you and Dingo through it all, Ms. Allen. You’ll see it won’t be that bad. What we’ll do is use one of these splints to immobilize Dingo’s leg.” She held up a piece of translucent plastic shaped like the back leg of a dog. “We’ll cut this to fit Dingo’s leg perfectly, place it against his leg, and wrap it with cotton wadding and elastic tape to keep everything in place. It will be very important for Dingo not to run or jump up or off any furniture.” Amanda paused and smiled at Ms. Allen, who nodded absently as she spoke. “Does Dingo sleep with you?” Amanda thought she already knew the answer to that question but still had to ask.
“Yes, he does.”
Amanda offered another compassionate smile. “Of course. What I’m going to ask might be difficult, but I would recommend you keep Dingo off the bed until he’s fully recovered. He could fall off the bed in the middle of the night and injure his leg. Do you have a crate or a carrier?”
“Yes, but we’ve never used it.”
“I think you should use it for a little while. For his own safety.” Amanda paused when she heard Ms. Allen sigh with discouragement. Her dark eyes shimmered with tears and Amanda’s heart broke at the sight. “I know it’s hard, but I promise it will be temporary. Dingo will be back in your bed soon.”
“How soon?” Ms. Allen blinked several times to keep her tears from escaping and even attempted a weak smile.
“We’ll keep the splint on for eight weeks. We’ll need you to come back with Dingo every other week so we can change his bandage and check on his progress. Then we’ll do two more weeks with just a soft bandage, no splint. And finally, two more weeks of rest without any bandage at all.”
“So twelve weeks in total?”
“Yes. That’s correct. Like I said, I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
“And then he’ll be back to normal?”
“I do expect a full recovery. It will be a long process, but it will be worth it,” Amanda said reassuringly as she smiled at Ms. Allen. The smile the older woman offered in return contained more hope this time.
“It could have been worse, I guess,” she said almost in a whisper. Amanda admired the way she tried to see the positive in her situation.
“Much worse,” Amanda confirmed. “If the ligaments had been torn, Dingo would have needed painful surgery and might never have recovered entirely. Now all he needs is some TLC from you and me for the next few weeks. We’ll spoil him so much he won’t even realize he’s hurt.”
At Ms. Allen’s low chuckle, Amanda continued, “I know we both wish Dingo had never been injured in the first place, but all things considered we’ve been extremely lucky. Maybe the universe didn’t want us to have too difficult of a time on my birthday, after all.”
She laughed nervously. She’d meant to be positive and encouraging, but she’d never meant to become so personal. She was shocked at her use of “we” and “us,” as if Dingo’s accident had affected her as much as the elegant woman she’d do anything to comfort. As if she and Ms. Allen were going to get through Dingo’s recovery together.
She was even more stunned that she’d revealed the fact that today was her birthday to a complete stranger. Isabelle, who was standing by Ms. Allen, seemed just as surprised, her eyes opening wide at Amanda’s revelation. Amanda’s words seemed to have the desired effect on Ms. Allen, however, and that’s what mattered most to Amanda. Seeing her smile expand and her facial features relax was worth blowing her cover.
“Well, happy birthday, Doctor Carter.”
“Thank you, but please call me Amanda,” Amanda offered, surprising herself again. “We’ll see each other a lot in the next few weeks and I’d feel more comfortable if we dropped the formalities,” she added to explain a request she’d never made before.
“All right. If you’ll call me Joyce.”
Amanda hesitated but conceded with a nod. “Okay. Isabelle and I will go wrap that leg up now, Joyce, and we’ll bring Dingo back in a few minutes.”
“Wait, so your birthday is on the seventh of July?” Joyce interrupted, as if she’d come to an important realization.
“That’s right,” Amanda answered, wondering why Joyce was asking but enjoying the curiosity in her eyes. Joyce Allen was showing interest in her as a person rather than a doctor for the first time since they’d met earlier that day. She’d never liked being the subject of anyone’s interest before. Joyce was different. She wanted to be seen by Joyce.
“Double seven. The Seeker,” Joyce declared as she studied Amanda’s features and finally focused on her eyes. Joyce’s stare was so warm, so intense that Amanda wouldn’t have been surprised if Joyce had seen her very soul. “That makes sense,” Joyce concluded. Amanda guessed her expression must have shown the complete confusion she was experiencing because Joyce laughed and explained, “Sorry. I took a class in numerology last year. I’m a double three. Third of March.”
“And what is that?” Joyce looked as confused as Amanda had been a few seconds before. “If the double seven makes me The Seeker, what does the double three make you?”
“Oh. The Creative Child.” Joyce blushed a very light shade of pink that made her entire face glow. Grace inhabited her even when she blushed, Amanda thought. Unlike her, whose cheeks were probably sporting deep red, uneven marks at that moment.
“Interesting. Maybe you can tell me more about all of this numerology stuff when we meet again in two weeks?”
“I’ll be happy to, although I’m not an expert. I simply picked up a few things, like the double digits,” Joyce confirmed before Amanda and Isabelle left the exam room to tend to Dingo.
As she started adjusting his splint, Amanda was no longer certain what type of meeting was to take place in two weeks. It couldn’t be a simple appointment to change a bandage. She wouldn’t be looking forward to it that much if that’s all it was. Yet that’s exactly what it is, dimwit, so get a hold of yourself, she thought.