Highland Doc's Christmas Rescue / Festive Fling With The Single Dad. Susan Carlisle
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“So part of your job description is to have patients cry all over you?” Cass managed a weak smile.
He looked at her tenderly. “Not all patients. I have to say you’re a special case.”
Warmth gradually replaced the coldness running through her. Lyle was a nice man saying all the right things. For an instant she wished he wasn’t a doctor speaking to a patient.
“I knew about you losing your dog, it was in your file. But I had no idea that going to canine therapy would be so difficult for you. You’ve had a tough time physically and…” he paused “…emotionally. Flora, Esme and I didn’t recognize that. I’m sorry. Would you like to talk about what happened? I’m a good listener.” His words were encouraging, not demanding.
Cass shook her head, both in response and to clear it.
He waited a few moments then asked, “When did you learn the details of what happened?”
“I realized the wall was falling but I had no idea…” She swallowed. Her throat was tight and dry. Inhaling, she fought through the final pang of denial. “I didn’t find out Rufus didn’t make it until I woke up in the hospital. When I asked about him, one of the nurses had to ask around for the information.”
Lyle put his arm around her shoulders again and gave her a supportive squeeze. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened like that.”
Cass continued to look at the windowsill. It was such a large one. Almost big enough to use as a seat. “No matter when I was told, or how, it wouldn’t have made…the terrible truth any easier to hear.”
“Maybe not, but at the very least the news should have been given to you in a sensitive manner.” He sounded irritated on her behalf. “Will you tell me about your dog?”
She didn’t want to, but he deserved to know why she’d just sobbed herself into an exhausted sleep all over him. “Rufus was more than my dog. He was my partner and best friend.”
And her longest relationship. He been there more than once when a relationship with a man had ended. Those guys had either been intimidated by a woman who handled such an emotionally demanding job, or they didn’t like her leaving for weeks at a time on the spur of the moment. For a couple of them her relationship with Rufus had been a bone of contention. They’d wanted all her attention and hadn’t understood the uncanny connection between her and her canine partner. Now she had physical scars that they might find offensive, too.
Jim, the latest and the man she’d believed was The One, had felt her job was too risky. It had been nice to have someone worry over her at first, but it had soon started to feel restrictive. Despite their breakup he’d been kind enough to call her while she’d been in the hospital, but it had soon turned into a conversation that was more about him telling her I told you so than about his real concern for her. There had been no sympathy on his part for Rufus. She’d thought at one time they might have a chance at a real life together. Sadly, she’d really cared for Jim but there was no hope of that after their conversation.
Lyle removed his arm. She wanted it back. It was comforting. “How long was this dog your partner?”
“Four years. He was two when I got him. We spent the first eight weeks in training. He was born in Germany. Most good rescue dogs are. The Germans are known for breeding them to be work dogs. In fact, most of his commands I gave in German.” It felt better, and was easier, to talk about Rufus than she’d imagined.
“Interesting.” Lyle waited.
She looked at him. His expectant expression suggested he was truly interested in what she was saying. Yet she couldn’t imagine him actually caring.
“How did you train together?”
“Are you really interested?” What if he was just asking to keep her talking as part of her “therapy”? None of the men she had known before him had cared one way or another. Why would he be any different?
“Aye. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.” His voice carried concern. It had been so long since she’d heard that in a man’s voice, it struck a deep chord within her.
“I had to do a written test and have a physical. Then I had to have a home visit so the powers-that-be knew I could care for a working dog. An animal like Rufus can cost as much as ten thousand American dollars so handlers are vetted closely. That kind of money can’t be wasted. Rufus had to have a physical as well, and learn obedience basics and detection, especially body odor recognition. It was pretty intense for both of us.”
“A powerful bonding experience for you both.”
Cass’s chest tightened from the memories. They had indeed bonded. She had loved the dog, heart and soul. At least Lyle seemed to understand. “Though he was only four, he was getting old for a working dog. Rufus was going to have to retire soon. I had already put in the paperwork to take him after he was done.”
“Going to canine therapy was almost like punishment for you. You should have said something.” His distress was evident in his voice.
She looked away in horror. “And embarrass myself, like I did a few minutes ago?”
Lyle took hold of her hand. His was large, secure…comforting. “You haven’t embarrassed yourself. It’s okay to be human.”
“Yeah, but blubbering all over you is a bit too human.”
He leaned closer until his shoulder touched hers. “I didn’t mind. I’m just sorry I kept pushing you into canine therapy.”
“I figured you’d seen it in my file.” She winced at how pitiful she sounded.
“Yeah, but that didn’t mean I understood how close you were.”
Great. He probably thought she had really gone off her rocker. “I don’t know if I can handle being around a dog right now. I’ll be leaving here in a few weeks and I, uh, just can’t risk becoming attached to another one.” What she wasn’t telling him about was the heavy guilt she carried over the fact that Rufus had sacrificed himself to save her life. If he hadn’t barked, she would have never looked up to see the wall starting to fall. Or that he’d jumped and pushed her out of the way. It had been a split second between her life and Rufus’s death.
“I understand completely,” Lyle said sincerely. “Would you consider an alternative kind of therapy, if we can come up with one? Maybe just helping out at the canine clinic. Not having a specific dog assigned to you.”
She was doubtful it would work but she could try. At least he was trying to work with her. Somehow she had to get past this grief, rebuild her life emotionally and move on. Yet her heart protested with a fresh pang even as she said with caution, “That might work.”
“If it doesn’t, then we’ll try something else.” His sincere tone and expression convinced her he would at least listen if she complained. Lyle’s comfort was the first she’d had since Rufus had died. She was going to hang onto it.
He let her hand go and shifted away. “Do you feel up to a bite to eat?”
“I don’t want to go to the dining room.”
“It’s too late for that.” He tilted his head toward the glass.
Cass was shocked to find it was dark. How long had they been sitting there? “I’m so sorry. I made you miss dinner.”
“Not a problem. Mrs. Renwick will have left me something in the kitchen. Let’s go see what we can find.”
“I think I’ll just go up to my room.” She wanted to get away. Regain her composure.
“Nonsense. You must be hungry, and I could use the company while I eat.”
She had kept Lyle from his hot meal. She owed him. “Okay, I can do that.”
“Not the most excited acceptance I’ve been given