“Hello, Mountain Veterinary Clinic. This is Beth speaking,” a woman’s warm voice greeted him. She sounded compassionate. Just the sort you’d want working in a veterinary office.
“Hi, my name is Rob Michelini, and I have a dog that was formerly in my unit in the Marines.” He took a deep breath. “He was a bomb-sniffing dog, and both he and his handler were injured in an explosion. His handler didn’t make it.” He cleared his throat. “I think he might suffer from PTSD. I’m here in Ridgeview to transfer him over to his new owner. She’s never had a dog before, and I need to help her figure out how to handle him. Dawn at Barnaby’s Table suggested Dr. Waring might be able to help.”
“Yes, the doctor is very good with military dogs, and I know she’s seen several who have had PTSD. She would probably want to see your dog to rule out anything physical. Since you’ll be transferring ownership, the new owner should come with you.”
“Okay. That makes sense.” Just hearing the words “transferring ownership” made his gut clench. “Do you have any Saturday hours? She works during the week.”
“We’re only here until noon on Saturdays, but I could get you in tomorrow morning at ten-fifteen.”
“I think that will work. I’ll check and if it doesn’t, I’ll call you back.”
“We also have evening hours on Tuesdays and Thursdays until eight if Saturday doesn’t work.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s the dog’s name?”
“Maverick.”
“Oh, like the character from Top Gun?”
“Yes. Most people don’t know that.”
“It’s my husband’s favorite movie. He wanted to be a fighter pilot, but his vision wasn’t good enough. He ended up as a mechanic in the Air National Guard, servicing the planes.”
“Let him know we appreciate his service. Reliable air coverage saved a lot of us on the ground.”
“Are you still in?”
He sighed. He needed to answer these questions without feeling the intense emotions they always brought on. “No. Medically discharged.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Let us know if that won’t work, and we’ll find a time that will. Dr. Waring cares deeply about our warrior dogs.”
Finally. Someone who understood that Maverick wasn’t just a service dog. He was as much a warrior as any of the men and women Rob had met overseas. Warriors who sacrificed. Warriors who had each other’s back.
He put the phone into his pocket and searched the yard for Maverick. He was snuffling in the far back corner under some bushes. “Maverick,” he called. The dog immediately responded and came trotting over, sitting at attention at his feet. “Good boy.” He ruffled the dog’s fur coat, and Maverick dropped his jaw into what looked like a smile. “Hey, buddy, I think I’ve found us some help.”
Maverick cocked his head as if listening carefully. “Somehow, we’ve got to put stuff behind us. We’ve got a new life ahead, and we have to move on,” he said, thinking of Trevor. The dog looked at him with sad eyes, as if he could read his thoughts and emotions. Hell, he probably could.
***
Mary Jane kept her eye on the clock, waiting for her workday finally to be over. She’d classified a half-dozen new books and added them to the online card catalogue. Even though so many people had turned to reading e-books, she still loved the smell and heft of the print version. Things had been slow today as soon as her preschool story hour was over. Since it was Friday, most of the after-school traffic of students was reduced.
Why did the time drag so? Why was she looking forward to seeing Rob Michelini again? It must be that she wanted to learn to handle Maverick. Yes, that was it. Because, dear Jesus, she couldn’t be attracted to Rob, could she? Immediately, she felt a flood of guilt.
I miss you, Trevor. Why did you have to die? Why couldn’t you have told me you loved me earlier? We missed out on so much. She wiped a tear away, glad the only patrons in the library were in the other part of the room, hidden by shelves of books. She needed to get a grip. She couldn’t keep crying for the rest of her life, although every time she thought she might be able to move on, something reminded her of all she’d lost.
Her mom’s words from the other night lodged in her head: “When you’ve lost someone you love, you honor them best by moving on and living your life, being as happy as they’d want you to be. Trevor wouldn’t have wanted you to stop living. He loved you enough to want you to build a new life. He even entrusted you with his precious dog, Maverick. He’d want you to enjoy your life. Find a new love.”
If that were so true, why hadn’t Mom moved on after Dad died? Mom didn’t seem devastated by grief, but as far as MJ could tell, she hadn’t moved on, either. Sure, she continued with her job at the grocery store, but she didn’t date, didn’t even socialize much outside of work. She shook her head. Grief and loss. If only you could move on as quickly as everybody advised. She sighed. It gave her a headache.
She looked up as Mrs. Farner approached her desk with a stack of four large-print books. The older woman’s eyesight had declined markedly over the past few years. Macular degeneration, Mary Jane had heard.
“Looks like you found some good ones,” Mary Jane commented as she scanned the bar code of Mrs. Farner’s library card into the computer, followed by opening the back cover of each book to scan the code for each
