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Iris, Women of Valley View, book 9

By Sharon Srock

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Chapter 1
Dr. Iris Evans leaned against the door of the treatment room Monday morning and studied her patient. Starting her first day of practice back in her home town of Garfield, Oklahoma, with the worst possible task a veterinarian could face was not what she’d expected. Trained for, yes. Capable of, certainly. Expected, not so much. She shoved away from the door and crossed the tiled space. She put her hands on the dog’s head, and the Labrador’s eyes came open. Iris could see the pain in the yellow depths. It made her heart hurt.
“It’s OK, girl. I’m gonna make it better.” The words were bitter. It would be better, but it still broke her heart. The dog’s tail thumped once on the metal table. Iris wasn’t sure where the animal found the strength to do even that much. She wasn’t a stray. She wore a collar but no tags. A scan revealed no chip under her skin. She looked well fed and healthy. Well, healthy until she’d chased a squirrel out of the early fall fog right into the path of a truck. Now she was broken in places Iris, even with her veterinarian degree, couldn’t fix.
The driver of the truck had done the humanitarian thing by bringing the yellow lab to the clinic, but with no tags there was no way to contact the owner, and the dog’s injuries didn’t give them time to search.
Iris threaded her fingers through the coarse hair around the dog’s ears. She’d put the dog’s age somewhere around six years. Just a little over half the normal life span for this breed. “Someone’s going to miss you.”
She reached behind her, picked up the syringe of pentobarbital, and boosted herself onto the table. The injection was an act of mercy. One she could do with a cold clinical detachment or with the compassion a well loved pet deserved. She maneuvered the dog’s head into her lap and stroked her neck.
I wish I knew her name.
The dog uttered a soft moan. No matter, each second she waited was another moment of pain for both of them. She picked up the end of the IV the technician had started for her and, with a swift motion, inserted the needle and shoved in the plunger. With that accomplished, she turned her attention back to the dog.
“It’s OK, girl. You can go now.” The dog’s breath warmed Iris’s fingers even as emotion stung her eyes. She had no connection here, but tears still spilled down her cheeks at the waste of such a beautiful animal.
A small tremor ran through the dog’s body, and Iris put a hand on its ribcage, gauging the breaths, slower and slower, shallower with each inhalation. “Don’t fight it. Just breathe.” She felt the muscles under her hand relax. “There, that’s better, isn’t it? Doesn’t hurt so much now.” She swiped at her face with her sleeve before moving both hands back to the dog’s head and scratching behind the limp ears. “You’re such a good girl. I know we’re going to get a call later. I’ll be sure to tell them that you went peacefully and that you weren’t alone.” Iris sat for another couple of minutes, stroking the head, watching the chest rise and fall until it didn’t. She eased out from under the dog’s head and laid her stethoscope against the dog’s chest. Nothing. After a final pat and a moment of silence, she turned and left the room.
In the hall, she pulled the door closed, turned, and almost collided with old Dr. Ivy. She grabbed the man’s shoulders to steady him. “I’m sorry.”
The aged vet straightened his glasses. “My fault, Iris, my fault. I snuck up on you.”
He kind of had, but still. Having to put down a dog and then almost putting your boss down in the same morning…on her first day? Not exactly a stellar way to start this new chapter in her life. “Are you OK?”
“I’m fine.”
Her boss studied her with a tilted head. “Are you?”
Iris grimaced. Her reddened eyes must have given her away. “Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder. “It’s just—”
“Let’s go back to my office. Dr. Vickers can handle the waiting room crowd for five minutes. You can tell me about it.”
Iris trailed him down the hall to the back corner room, waiting until the doctor took a seat at his cluttered desk before she sat in one of the visitor chairs. The room smelled of antiseptic, pipe tobacco, and the dog treats contained in a big glass jar on the corner of his desk, an unlikely mix that Iris found oddly comforting.
The old doctor dove right in. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You should have called me or at least allowed Joyce to take the case.”
“I’m not going to be much help to you or the office if I hand off every difficult case that comes through the door.” She straightened. “Unless…” Her words trailed…had she missed something? Acted to soon? She looked at her boss. “Did I… I mean…?”
Dr. Ivy leaned forward. “Don’t start second-guessing yourself. The animal had internal injuries that would have required extensive surgery with no guarantees of success. You called animal control and noted their response. I looked at the x-rays when I came in, discussed your findings with Joyce. If the owner had been present, I’d have nudged them toward euthanasia. In the absence of an owner, you did the most you could do.” His moist blue gaze roamed her face. “Sad way to start the day though.”
“At least she didn’t have to go out alone. I think that’s the saddest thing. To be cared for your whole life, as this dog obviously was, and then end it alone and in pain. Being there broke my heart, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. She reminded me of my first pet, Angel.”
Dr. Ivy sat back and peered at Iris over his glasses. “If ever a dog was misnamed, that one was. She had a nickname here in the clinic,” the doctor said. “Devil dog.”
Iris smiled with the memory. “She was the sweetest, clumsiest blond lab God ever created. We all thought she’d kill herself that first year. Stitches in her leg, an encounter with a skunk, two snake bites, and more minor cuts than most dogs get in a lifetime. No delivery was safe if she could get to it, and no fence could hold her. She lost some of her curiosity and settled down some around the time she turned three, but she kept us all on our toes until then.”
Iris sat back and grinned at her boss. “It was all her trips to see you and watching how you and your staff took care of that goofy dog that sparked my interest in veterinary medicine.”
“Yay for Angel,” Dr. Ivy said. “We need more fresh young minds like yours. She passed a while back if memory serves.”
“She died in her sleep a year or so ago at the ripe old age of fifteen.”
“That’s ancient for that breed.”
“Yes, my brothers and sister are campaigning to replace her. Mom and Dad aren’t sure. Now that I’m home, I might have to try and convince them.”
“Didn’t you tell me that you have a guinea pig?”
“Sure do. Bella was an easy pet to maintain with my gypsy lifestyle and erratic school schedule. She pretty much went where I went. Landlords don’t look at her and think about damage to floors and carpet. But I miss having a dog. Bella’s great but she doesn’t fetch.”
Dr. Ivy’s grin was mischievous. “Let me know when you’re ready. I have a friend who breeds labs. They have a new litter of eight. I can get them to cut you a deal.” He looked at his clock and rose. “You OK now?”
Iris drew in a deep breath. “The good news is that the day can only get better from here.”
“We can hope. Come with me. I have a cat coming in, and I’d like your opinion on a couple of things.”
The rest of the morning was blissfully routine. Dogs and cats with treatable problems. One cat fight in the waiting room that required human intervention and a rabbit with dietary issues. By lunchtime, Iris was grateful that the clinic was only five minutes from home. There was plenty of time to make it to her apartment, fix a sandwich, and put her feet up for thirty minutes.
She unlocked the front door of her parent’s house and stepped across the threshold, listening for any sign that someone else was there. Her siblings were in school and Mom was at the day care. Dad worked from home but must have had errands to run.
She crossed into the kitchen and pulled the basement door open. This had been Sam’s territory for so long that Iris’s pause at the top of the stairs was automatic. The sides of her mouth ticked up. Not Sam’s anymore, but hers. She flicked the light switch and hurried down. The apartment at the bottom was spacious. A living area with a full kitchen and two bedrooms with a full bath in the middle.
Mom and Dad had insisted that Iris make the space hers, at least until she got established. Rent was a sore spot. Iris wanted to pay, but her parents wouldn’t hear of it. After weeks of long distance haggling, Iris had forfeited the battle. Turned out to be a blessing in disguise since God had a plan for a portion of her savings. Iris sighed in contentment. After eight years of school she was back home for good.
She opened the fridge, and a chorus of wheeks sounded from the spare bedroom. The cries had her grabbing a carrot instead of the cold cuts. She entered the room and stooped next to the cage where Bella looked up at her with bright, black eyes and went to work on the cage with her teeth. Iris stuck her fingers between the rungs and tapped the busy nose playfully. “I don’t know how you keep from breaking your teeth. You want a snack?”
At the question Bella rose up to sit on her hind legs and waved her tiny front paws.
Iris laughed and handed over the carrot. The trick got her every time. She’d never seen another guinea pig beg, and she’d never figured out how her last roommate had taught Bella to do it. Iris watched while the carrot disappeared. “Be good now. I have to fix my own lunch.”
Her phone rang before she had the chance to get the bread out of the container on the counter. Nerves sparked when she saw the name on the caller ID. “Chick?”
“Is that you, Iris?”
Iris didn’t know what she’d expected, but the voice on the other end of the connection sounded much older than she’d anticipated.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s good to finally hear your voice. Are you getting settled?”
“Getting there. Ethan just left. You’re my first call on my new phone. I wanted to let you know I made it and thank you again for all your help. I knew you’d paid the utility deposits on this place, but”—he paused and, when he continued, his voice was heavy with emotion—”you paid my first three month’s rent? I’m grateful, but you shouldn’t…I can’t…”
“It’s already done. A new start is expensive. God’s blessed me, and if I can bless you in return, then I’m happy. I’m just glad we were able to find an apartment for you. Ethan said it’s pretty small—”
“Two furnished rooms is more than I’m used to and certainly more than I deserve.”
She allowed the deprecating comment to pass. She’d chosen to seek this man out, chosen to help him start a new life once he’d served his time, but the fact remained that he’d kidnapped Iris’s niece eleven years before. She and God had forgiven him, but Iris knew from his letters that he struggled with forgiving himself. There would be time to deal with that later.
“Chaplain Samuels mentioned he’d found you a job?” Iris asked.
“He has an amazing network of resources for people like me. Did he tell you what I’d be doing?”
“He was about to, but he got an emergency call and had to end our discussion.”
“It’s a pretty good gig, actually,” Chick said. “I’m custodian and handyman for the building I’m living in. I’m expected to keep the halls clean, the grounds neat, and then I’m sort of a twenty-four-hour call person for minor emergencies. Nothing too technical, just leaky pipes, stubborn heating and air units, small repairs, that sort of thing. Painting and clean-up when someone moves out. The pay isn’t too shabby, and living on the premises means I won’t need a car right away.”
“Awesome. Did Chaplain Samuels tell you that he’s going to be gone for a few days?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m your go-to for now. Is there anything you need?”
“Not that I can think of. Ethan already had the kitchen stocked with the basics.”
“He said he picked up a few things. I’ll be in on Saturday to take you grocery shopping. Ethan and I will share that job until you get some transportation. You be sure to call me if you need anything before then.”
“You’ve done more than enough—”
“Are you trying to cheat me out of a blessing?”
“How do you mean?” Chick asked.
“Just that Ethan and I are here to take care of you until you can get on your feet. I feel like God put you on my heart special. He’ll bless me in return for blessing you.” Iris threaded some teasing into her voice. “You don’t want to mess that up, do you?”
“Not when you put it that way.” A few moments of silence passed before Chick spoke again. “Have you been able to speak to your sister?”
Iris hesitated over her answer. Chick wanted to see Sam and offer a personal apology. The odds of that happening were slim and none, and slim walked out the door about a decade back.
Chick stepped into the silence. “Never mind. That really is asking too much too soon. I should be thanking you, not rushing you. I wouldn’t…” The voice on the other end of the connection cracked. “Thank you for everything.”
The phone went dead in Iris’s hand before she could respond. She slid it back into her pocket. Helping Chick brought her so much joy. She just wished she could find a way to share what she was doing with her friends and family. That thought soured her lunch plans. Bringing her work with Chick Malone into the light of day would likely alienate her from the family she’d just returned to. She was positive this was what God had told her to do, but she wondered, not for the first time, what God was thinking.
Iris had made a commitment to help give Chick some emotional and financial support while he got back on is feet. That was her goal for the next few months. As for his goal of offering that personal apology…Iris couldn’t imagine a scenario where that could become a reality.
***
“It’s eight a.m.”
David Morris opened his eyes at the announcement of the alarm clock. Color and light flooded what was left of his vision, but, as always, nothing settled into a pattern that made much sense to his brain. He could see the red of the curtains across the room but not the outline of the window behind them. If he walked to that window and took a look out, he’d see green blobs where the trees should be and a blue haze that his brain identified as sky. Somewhere between the green and the blue there existed a fuzzy line where one bled into the other, but the details were lost.
Details.
David liked details. The crisp line in a creased pair of well-pressed khakis, the sharp contrast between the navy, sky blue, and red of his dress uniform, the white contrail that a plane at Mach speed left against the sky, the snap and precision of a rifle drill. Those things were a blur now, like his life.
He hadn’t just lost the majority of his sight when his fleeing prisoner had fired a gun at him, sending shards of shattered wood into his eyes. He’d lost his purpose and his life. He wished that those sharp pieces had continued on through his eyes and lodged in his brain. Maybe he’d be dead. Dead had to be better than the half life he’d been left with.
His stomach grumbled, and he ignored it. Food you couldn’t see had no taste, so why bother?
The mattress shifted just a bit to his right, and a light whine reached his ears. Samson was awake. David’s hand snaked out from under the covers to rub the head of his guide dog. He smirked at the term. Like he had places to be guided to these days.
Woof.
The dog needed to go outside. David had asked his mother to install a dog door, even offered to pay for it. She said she was thinking about it. But here was the thing. That old wives’ tale about other senses sharpening with the loss of sight was partially true, at least in the case of David’s hearing. He’d overheard Mom and his stepdad, Micha, talking when they’d assumed he was asleep. They’d discussed the issue and agreed that a dog door for Samson just gave David less excuse to connect with the world around him. Without the door, David was forced to get up and let the dog in and out. And they were pretty firm on the whole dog thing. As grateful as they were for the military’s guide dog program and the help and companionship Samson provided, Samson’s care belonged exclusively to David. That included the vet appointment this afternoon to get the canine’s nails trimmed.
David flopped to his side, his back to the room he couldn’t see. Mom would have to drive them, Mom would have to wait for them, Mom would have to bring them home. So why couldn’t Mom just leave David in bed where he wanted to be and take the dog to the vet? It made no sense, but no amount of whining, cajoling, or outright attitude budged her.
Woof.
The second request from the golden retriever carried a bit more urgency, and David knew he’d better get a move on. The dog wouldn’t go on the floor, but he would go find another human to see to the need, and that other human would only come to David’s door and insist that he get up.
Fine.
He tossed the covers aside, covers that he would be responsible for straightening later, felt around the floor with his bare feet, and shoved his feet into slippers he couldn’t see. He stood, muttered a single word that his mom would be ashamed of, and sat back down. The stupid slippers were on the wrong feet. He corrected that problem, held out his hand, and allowed the dog to lead him out of the room, down the stairs, and to the back door.
David stepped onto the back porch with the dog and ducked his head. He’d always wondered why blind people wore sunglasses. Now he knew. Blindness for David wasn’t the black nothingness he’d always imagined. Blindness for David meant vision that allowed him light and color, just no definition. The early morning sunlight still had the power to hurt his useless eyes. He hunched his shoulders and rubbed his bare arms. The mornings were cooling off, but by noon it would be back in the high seventies. October in Oklahoma…changing leaves and grinning pumpkins. Things he’d taken for granted. Things he’d miss now.
“Morning, son.”
David grunted a response.
His mom was undeterred. “I made coffee. I left a mug for you next to the brewer, and your breakfast is on the table. Feed Samson and then get yourself around. I have a few errands to run before Samson’s appointment. I’ll treat you to lunch while we’re out.”
David didn’t answer. Why couldn’t his mom just leave him alone? He didn’t want to run errands, he didn’t want to eat, he didn’t want to go to the vet. What he wanted was to sit in a dark room. In a dark room his useless eyes could see what a normal person saw. In a dark room, he could convince himself, just for a while, that when he came out his eyes would be back to normal.
Normal meant that he was just taking a break from the Marines. Normal meant that he still had the future in law enforcement he’d always dreamed of. Normal meant that his life wasn’t over.
Normal meant Emmy still loved him.
Instead, the Marines had tossed him aside once they’d used him up. Following his Uncle Nicolas into police work was a long lost dream. Emmy was history, and life…? What sort of life did a man have when he couldn’t read a book? As far as David was concerned, the Braille he’d been taught didn’t count as reading. He couldn’t watch a movie and…he swallowed back tears of frustration, he couldn’t even match his stupid socks. Didn’t people understand? Couldn’t anyone in this house cut him some slack?
“Don’t dawdle, son.”
Looked like the answer to all of David’s questions was a reverberating no.

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