The jangling noise wouldn’t stop. It kept nagging at her, poking her, pulling her from the warm cocoon of sleep.
The phone. It was ringing and ringing. Kylie forced her eyes open and tried to focus on the clock. The iridescent red numbers blinked at her.
3:30 a.m.
She grabbed for her phone, pulled the receiver from the cradle, and laid it next to her ear on the pillow. “Hullo?”
“I need you.”
She blinked. “W . . . what?”
“I need you. Now!”
She frowned. It sounded like Mackenzie’s voice, but it couldn’t be. “Mac, is that you?”
“Stop asking ridiculous questions and get over here, now!”
“Mac, what in the world—?”
“He’s sick.”
Kylie sat up. Mackenzie wasn’t angry, he was frightened. She could hear it in his voice. “Ivan?” Even as she asked, she knew it was the husky. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know.” He sounded miserable. And desperate.
“Then how do you know he’s sick?”
“Let’s just say my two-thousand-dollar Persian rug will never be the same.”
“Ah.” She threw back the covers. “I’ll be right there.”
The sight of Ivan lying in the middle of the bathroom floor, panting rapidly, his tongue hanging out, sent a chill through Kylie. But that was nothing compared to what the sight of Mac’s haggard face did to her.
Without thinking, she went to him and folded him in her arms. He stiffened, then sagged against her.
“Has Ivan eaten anything different?”
Mackenzie straightened and gave her a wry look, then pulled a large gold box from the trash container. “Not unless you count five pounds of the finest Belgian chocolates.”
“Oh, wow.”
At her low exclamation, Mackenzie turned to look at her, his stance and expression alert.
“What?”
She bit her lip. “Chocolate, well, it’s toxic to dogs in large quantities.”
His eyes narrowed. “How harmful?”
She didn’t respond, and he took her hand, gripping it so hard it hurt. “Kylie.”
Licking her lips, she met his gaze. “It could kill him.” Mac’s face paled, and she squeezed his hand. “Listen, we probably caught it in time. The best thing we can do now is take him to my clinic.” She looked down at Ivan’s limp form. “And pray.”
Several hours later, Mackenzie and Ivan were back home. The husky was sick, very sick, but he would recover.
“Let’s get Ivan set up in the bathroom, Mac.”
He carried the dog in and laid him down on the cushion Kylie had brought in. He sat on the floor, next to Ivan, stroking the dog’s ears.
“He’s going to be OK, Mac.”
Mac didn’t look at Kylie. He just nodded, his gaze fixed on the dog. She straightened and started to leave the room. Mac reached out to capture her hand. “Kylie, I—”
He appreciated all she’d done more than he could say. But what meant the most to him was simply her presence. She’d been a source of comfort and calm.
Their eyes met, and she nodded. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.” She squeezed his hand, and then she was gone.
Mac listened to her footsteps, heard the door open and close, and leaned back against the wall. He looked down at Ivan’s sleeping, exhausted form. “I didn’t know . . .” The whisper came out raw, broken. “I didn’t know chocolate was dangerous. Or that it would hurt so much to see you in pain and not be able to help you . . .” He turned his cheek against the cool wall. “I didn’t know caring could hurt so much.”
God is affected by our joys and pains. . . . When we hurt he hurts. . . . That’s just the kind of God he is. . . .
When Kylie first said those things, Mackenzie hadn’t understood. Now . . . “I don’t know, Lord. I’m not sure it’s worth it.”
The feel of a wet tongue on his cheek startled Mackenzie, and he opened his eyes to find Ivan standing beside him, shaky but upright. The husky’s mismatched eyes, filled with trust and devotion, were fixed on him. Mackenzie slid his arms around Ivan’s neck, burying his hands in that deep fur. Ivan licked him again, then bent his head to tuck it beneath Mackenzie’s chin.
“Good boy,” Mackenzie murmured. “You’re going to be OK.” And in that moment, as he sat there, Ivan leaning against him, Mackenzie knew nothing was more worth the risk, and the pain, than loving.