Running Wild (Wild 3)

I’m halfway home when my phone rings. I intend to ignore it, but my parents’ home number appears, and I can never ignore that. “Hi.” I hope whoever’s calling can’t hear my misery through the receiver.

“Oh, hi, Marie, I wasn’t sure if you’d be finished with your appointment.” My mom’s voice sounds off.

My unease swells. “What’s up?”

“I’m at the hospital with Vicki.” There’s a long pause. “She lost the baby.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“You get more than she does because you’re bigger.” Liz emphasizes her point with another scoop of carrots on Tillie’s plate.

I pass the bowl of mashed potatoes past my squabbling nieces and across to Vicki. “How much longer until you’re done?”

“A few weeks, and then I’m starting at the salon full-time—Ollie, stop that! This is why she won’t take food from anyone else now!” Vicki scolds.

Next to her, Oliver mimics a plane landing as he brings a spoonful of food in toward Molly, complete with hyperbolic sound effects. “But we can’t help having so much fun, can we?” He makes a silly face at his daughter, and she squeals with glee.

“It’s not fun when you’re at work and I’m trying to feed her.” Vicki glares his way before setting the potatoes in the open space in front of Liz.

“Good thing the season’s over and I’ll be here to feed her every night, then, huh?” He leans in to peck his wife’s cheek while deftly snatching three slices of beef from the platter.

The week after the miscarriage was difficult around here. We all took turns helping with Molly while Vicki recovered, both physically and emotionally. Even Liz came by, bringing a collection of vegetable-laced cakes and, for once, none of her harsh opinions.

Vicki has mostly recovered, embracing the philosophy that it wasn’t meant to be, but I don’t miss her solemn expression whenever her blue eyes touch Liz’s growing belly. Unplanned or not, she wanted that baby, had imagined an entire life with it already.

“That’s right. Oliver will be feeding babies and cutting firewood all winter long, right?” my dad says around a swallow, and I catch the hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Oliver with an ax. That sounds like a great idea.” I wink at my brother-in-law. The first snowfall blanketed the valley on the fall equinox, a thin layer that lasted just long enough to shrivel the late-blooming flowers. Since then, it’s been falling steadily and staying, the temperatures hovering at freezing, answering many winter adventurists’ prayers.

It’s also enticed Oliver to keep the woodstove stoked far more than necessary. I had to peel off a layer when I came in today, and the dogs have been scratching at the door every hour on the hour to get out so they can cool off. “You know, you and Terry, one of the trail vets, would get along well.”

“Speaking of the race …” Dad waves his empty fork. “Bonnie Hatchett called me. Harry’s in the market for a new vet.”

“What’s wrong, Frank didn’t agree to cut his fees in half?” I say dryly.

“There definitely was some squabble about money. So then Harry went to Don Childs, but Don’s heard what a royal pain in the ass he is, so he said no. Plus, he said he’s too busy with Tyler’s kennel now.”

I feel everyone watching me, looking for my reaction to the mention of that name. I wash my food down with drink. Much like Vicki, I’ve used the “it just wasn’t meant to be” line more than once. And much like Vicki, no one is fooled by my brush-off.

“So then, she started fishin’ around to see if you’d consider taking the kennel on again. Didn’t come right out and say it, but I’ve known that woman long enough to read her.”

“If Harry wants me back for his dogs, he can come ask me himself.” What my answer will be, I can’t say. But I do miss the dogs.

“That’s basically what I told her. Oh! And Bill was askin’ if you’re still gonna jump in for that interview with Tyler. He’s been trying to nail him down, but he doesn’t seem so willing anymore—”

“Dad!” Liz spears him with a bewildered look.

I’m equal parts stunned and appreciative that she would come to my aid like that.

He winces, as if just clueing in.

“So, how has working at Wade’s hospital been, Marie?” Mom deftly steers the conversation to safe territory.

“Feels like being back in my residency. Except I’m getting paid. And Wade’s been very accommodating.” After leaving Tyler’s that day, knowing the clinic would take another financial hit, I called my old mentor and asked if he would be interested in having me in his operating room once a week. He jumped at the chance. It means closing the clinic on Mondays and a long, exhausting day, but the income is good and the scenic commute to Anchorage—the snowcapped mountains towering over a kaleidoscope of autumn-tinged trees—reminds me how much I love this valley.