Running Wild (Wild 3)

That’s when I started looking at the future in smaller increments. How much longer will I be able to bend my father’s ear for advice? Five years? Ten?

Will I be standing in this spot in a year’s time, talking out loud to myself, wishing he were around to tell a terrible joke?

“Looks like messy weather moving this way.” He nods toward a thick band of dark clouds moving in over the far ridge. Turning on his heels, he whistles to the dogs once again and begins heading back toward the road and parking lot.

But his pace is meandering, slow. Always a sign that something weighs on his mind. “Marie, you know how proud we are of you. Keeping the clinic going the way you have … Well, it’s made me so happy to be able to look out our kitchen window and see patients coming and going still, after all these years.”

“That’s why I took it over.” Even when I was doing my surgical residency with Wade Phillips in Anchorage, I saw myself coming back to work with my father. When his health problems kicked in, and he started talking about retirement, we struck a deal over apple pie and Coors Light, sitting at their kitchen table. I’d take over and pay my parents rent to cover their bills so they could stay in their home, my childhood home. It was a win-win for all.

“And I know Jim has been riding you a lot about the accounting side of things, but he does mean well. And money is something he understands.”

“Believe me, if there is something Jim is good at, I know that it’s counting every penny.” That and shifting all responsibility for his children to his wife. “But I don’t tell him how to run his accounting business, and I don’t need him telling me how to run my veterinarian business.” Sometimes I wonder if he’s sizing up the clinic’s earnings for my sister’s inheritance.

“See, that’s the thing. There’s always been two sides to this business. The animal care part, which no one’s suggesting Jim knows anything about, but then there’s the other side. You know, all the money stuff. And maybe it couldn’t hurt to have someone who knows that side well step in.”

“We’re doing fine. I have Cory.”

Dad gives me a guarded look. “Marie, you’re a brilliant veterinarian, but I’ve seen the numbers.”

I shrug. “I’m getting by!” Sure, the chunk that goes to my parents and to my student loans is considerable, but I don’t have much else in the way of expenses. “I live rent-free, and my debts could be worse but aren’t, thanks to you guys. I’m doing okay.”

“You could be doing more than okay if you weren’t such a bleeding heart. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that you give so much of your time to helping, even when there isn’t a price tag attached to it. Liz could stand to have a bit of that rub off on her.” He says that last part more to himself. “But getting paid for your hard work doesn’t mean you don’t care about these animals. You care too much sometimes. Why else would you be wasting your talents here? You could be working with Wade down in Anchorage. He’d still hire you on—”

“But it’s not what I want. I like being my own boss. I like having flexibility.” Not that Wade would ever stop me from volunteering at the Iditarod. I’ve already accepted my invitation for next year’s race.

Yukon and Bentley take off after another marmot, ignoring Dad’s commanding whistle.

“These dogs,” he mutters, stepping over a crop of stones, the leashes dangling from his grasp. “How many years, and they haven’t figured out that they’ll never win against those little rodents—”

The stones roll beneath his boot, and my father loses his footing. He falls to the ground with a sickening crack.

“Dad!” I rush to him, collecting his wire-rimmed glasses off the ground, my adrenaline kicking in. His grimace of pain only amplifies my fears that it was no ordinary tumble. “Your ankle?”

“My leg,” he forces out between gritted teeth, tugging on his pants to ease up the hem.

“Oh, Dad.” I grimace at the ghastly display. His tibia has snapped like a twig, one end of it broken through his skin. Blood streams down his leg.

“I can’t see a thing.” He collects his glasses from my grasp and slides them back on, fussing for a moment to adjust before realizing that the frame is bent and giving up. “Would you look at that.”

“This is a bad break. We need to staunch that and get you help.” I check my phone, even though I know there’s no signal up here.

He winces as he shifts, unbuckling his belt and tugging it free. “I knew I wore my good leather one for a reason today.” He loops it around his thigh and fashions a tourniquet to stem the blood flow.