Trading Secrets (21 page)

He chuckles. “
Ja
. I noticed you got queasy around Molly that night.”

“You noticed that?”

He grins. “Your face looked a little green.”

I roll my eyes at him as Uncle Brad turns off the bright overhead light, leaving only the soft side lights glowing. “Good night, critters. Sleep tight.”

“What if they have a problem in the middle of the night?” Zach asks.

I point out the cameras. “Uncle Brad keeps an eye on them from up there.”

“Up there?” Zach looks at the ceiling.

My uncle laughs. “I have an apartment upstairs.”

“Oh.” Zach nods. “That's convenient.”

As we're walking back toward the reception area, I hear the phone ringing. “Want me to get that?” I ask my uncle.

He gives me a grateful look. “You know what to do.”

Feeling important, I run out and pick it up. “Westgate Vet Clinic,” I say in a business tone.

“Thank God you're there!” a woman says through sobs. “Gretchen—my dog—she's been hit by a car. She's bleeding and not moving and needs help.”

“Where are you?” I ask, trying to remain calm the way my uncle taught me.

“On my way to the clinic.”

“What is your name so I can pull your file?”

“Hamilton. The doctor's still there?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “Do you need to talk to him?”

“No, just tell him we'll be there in a few minutes and Gretchen needs to be seen immediately. Can he meet us in front?”

“Absolutely. We'll be ready.”

As I hang up, Zach and my uncle come into the reception area. “There's an emergency.” I explain about the phone call as I go to the file cabinet, searching for a file for Gretchen Hamilton. “The owner's on her way and wants you to meet her in front.”

“Yes, I'm sure she does. Gretchen's a German Shepherd and a big one.”

“Need any help?” Zach offers.

“Sure,” my uncle says. “You go wait in front, and I'll run for the gurney.”

“Want this?” I hold up the file.

“Just look to see the blood type and if the dog has any allergies,” Uncle Brad calls as he races to the storage room. “Turn on the lights and equipment in the surgery. And lay out some scrubs for me. You know the drill, Micah.”

It's not long until my uncle and Zach are wheeling in what looks like a lifeless dog, followed by a petite blonde woman whose T-shirt is covered with blood. She's sobbing uncon
trollably. “Don't let her die,” she cries out. “I don't care how long it takes or what it costs. Please, save her.”

“Help
her
.” My uncle tips his head toward the pet owner as he pushes the gurney through the swinging door. “We'll be in surgery for a while. Zach is going to assist.”

Taking in a deep breath, I go over to the woman and introduce myself, learning her name is Jennifer. “Gretchen is in good hands,” I calmly tell her. “My uncle—I mean, Dr. Knight is a great vet.”

“Yes, yes, I know that's true.” She bites her lip. “I don't know how Gretchen got out. She was right there in the house with me, and then she was gone. I heard the horn honking and screeching brakes. I immediately knew what had happened.” Jennifer's mascara, which has run, makes her look like a scared raccoon. “Do you think she'll survive?”

“I think if anyone can save her, it's Dr. Knight.” I point to her bloody T-shirt. “But it's going to be a while. Do you think you can drive home to clean yourself up? Or should I call someone for you?”

“I can't leave Gretchen without knowing she's okay.” She holds out bloodstained hands that are still shaking. “And I don't think I can drive home like this. There's no one to get me. Since my divorce, it's just Gretchen and me. Can I just wash up here?”

“You can use Dr. Knight's private restroom,” I say decisively. “It has a shower. And we'll loan you some scrubs to put on afterward.”

Jennifer looks down at her bloodied shirt and lets out a horrified gasp. “I picked Gretchen up and put her in the back of my SUV. I can't believe I lifted her. She weighs almost as much as I do.”

“I've heard some amazing stories of what people can do when a life's at stake.” With my hand on the woman's shoulder, one of the few places not soaked in blood, I guide her toward the restroom, telling her about the old woman who lifted up a grand piano to rescue her toy poodle. Okay, I'm not sure if it's an urban legend or not, but I think it helps to calm her. I open the door to my uncle's restroom, and although it's marked private, I doubt that he'll mind under these circumstances. Plus I'll make sure to sanitize everything after she's finished. I open a metal cupboard and pull out a towel as well as a set of green scrubs. “Here you go,” I tell her.

“Do you think Gretchen's really going to be okay?” Jennifer asks before I can leave.

“She's in good hands,” I say again. “And I'm going to be praying for her.”

“Thank you!” She's starting to cry again. “Gretchen is my best friend. She's really all I have left. I can't stand to lose her too.”

“Just get yourself cleaned up,” I say in a maternal tone, although I'm sure Jennifer is twice my age. “Maybe by the time you're done, we'll have news for you.” As I close the door, I know this is unlikely. Based on what I saw—or tried not to see—that dog is going to be in surgery for a while. As I walk through the reception area, I see that there's blood smeared and splattered here and there, and as much as I detest this kind of work, I know it must be done. I get the mop and bucket, make a bleach solution, and attack the room. To distract me from feeling queasy, I pray for Gretchen.

Once the clinic is cleaned, I take some paper towels and bleach solution outside, scrubbing blood from the door handle and steps. That's when I notice the woman's SUV still
parked right in front with its doors wide open and decide to give it a quick cleanup as well. I wipe down the driver's seat area, but when I look in the back of the SUV, I nearly lose it. Slamming that door closed, I decide Ms. Hamilton will need to hire professionals to eradicate those stains.

As I go inside, I say another prayer for Gretchen. After she's lost that much blood, I question if she will even survive. However, I do know that she's probably receiving a transfusion and IV by now. I can't help but wonder what Zach thinks about all this drama and trauma. I know he's a farm boy and his stomach is way stronger than mine, but it all might be overwhelming too. Is he able to help my uncle, or is he simply watching in horror? Only time will tell.

I
t's well past 9:00 when Uncle Brad finishes working on Gretchen. By now, I've talked to my dad twice and Lizzie once (asking her to kitty-sit for me), encouraged Jennifer to go home to wait, picked up green tea smoothies for Zach and my uncle to sip on while they worked, cleaned up the private bathroom, attended to some housekeeping chores in my uncle's messy bachelor pad, and done a lot of praying for Gretchen. I'm so exhausted, and I can't even imagine how tired my uncle and Zach must be.

“Dad suggested that Zach and I spend the night with you,” I tell my uncle when he hangs up the phone after letting Jennifer know that Gretchen is resting now.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he says as we all trudge upstairs. “You can have the spare room, Micah, and Zach can have the couch.” He elbows Zach. “If you don't mind. Otherwise you two can flip a coin.”

“I don't mind the couch,” Zach assures him.

“You guys hungry?” Uncle Brad opens the door to his apartment. “I've got a bunch of leftover spaghetti that Claire
made last night. And some salad and French bread too. She's at a bachelorette party tonight, and I think she was worried that I'd starve without her.”

“You guys go clean up or put your feet up or whatever,” I tell them. “I'll get out the leftovers.”

Before long, we're sitting around his little kitchen table, hungrily polishing off all of Claire's leftovers. Zach and my uncle are talking about Gretchen's multiple injuries and predicting what her prognosis might be.

“I think she'll regain use of that leg,” my uncle tells Zach as he reaches for another slice of French bread.

Zach turns to me. “I've never seen anything like it. Your uncle is a very gifted surgeon.”

Uncle Brad pokes Zach in the arm. “And you, my friend, were a very gifted surgical assistant. I couldn't have done it without you.”

“What would you have done if Zach wasn't there?” I ask.

“Normally, I would've called Marie or Doc Tyler. But no telling if they'd have been available. Marie had a hot date tonight. And as far as I know, Doc Tyler is still cruising Alaska.” He grins at Zach. “No kidding, you were invaluable.”

“What did you do?” I ask Zach.

“Whatever your uncle asked.” He grins. “At least I tried. I don't know the names of all the surgical tools and things he asked for. But somehow we managed to get Gretchen sewn back together. You really want all the gory details?”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “No thanks.”

We follow up our dinner with ice cream, then Zach and my uncle slip back down to check on Gretchen while I clean up our dinner things. When they return they are having a conversation about cell phones.

“Unfortunately, cell phones have become a necessary evil,” my uncle is saying. “A lot of people have disconnected landlines and their only phones are cellular.”

“I understand that,” Zach tells him. “What I don't understand is why so many people can't seem to put their cell phones down. It's as if their phones are an IV, like the one you put on Gretchen tonight. Like they can't live without being connected.”

Uncle Brad laughs as he gets a glass of water. “Good analogy. I know what you mean. I get so aggravated when I go to a movie—which I seldom do—and someone is sitting there texting throughout the whole film. They don't realize how annoying that little flashing screen can be.”

“I noticed something else today too,” Zach tells him. “Actually, I noticed it yesterday too, but today just seemed to make it even more clear. Micah and I were on the beach. On Lake Erie. It was so beautiful. We just walked and talked and enjoyed it. There were lots of other people out there too, but so many of them were talking into their phones or playing with their phones. I doubt they even noticed how amazing the water looked with sunlight sparkling on the ripples, or how the snowy white clouds were drifting across such a clear blue sky. How could they with their attention on their phones?”

“Sad, isn't it?” my uncle says.

“It made me wonder, if everyone is so connected to their phones—talking and texting and whatever it is they do all day long—how do they ever have time to notice the beauty of God's creation all around them? How do they have time to connect to God?”

“That's a very good question,” I say as I close the dishwasher.

“Like some people are so overconnected that they're actually disconnected?” Uncle Brad says as he sets his glass in the sink.

“Ja.”
Zach nods eagerly. “That's what I think.”

“I think I agree with you,” I tell him.

“I do too . . . for the most part. Except that I'm going to have to contradict myself by calling Claire now. I promised to tell her good night.” He holds up his cell phone with a goofy grin. “I'll tell you kids good night too.” He clasps Zach's shoulder. “Thanks again, buddy. You were truly a godsend this evening.”

I can see Zach's worn out, so I tell them both good night and retire to the sparsely appointed spare room, where (despite agreeing with Zach's philosophy about being overconnected) I text Lizzie to check on how my kitty is doing. She assures me that the sister kitties are enjoying a reunion, and I text her back a thank-you, promising to return the favor if she ever needs a kitty-sitter. Then I go to bed.

When I get up the next morning, both Zach and my uncle are gone. Suspecting they're down in the clinic, I take a quick shower and put on my clothes from yesterday. Okay, I feel a little grungy, but it's nothing compared to how I felt while working on Zach's farm. I find the guys down in the kennel, doing the rounds.

“Hey, you want to run out and get us some breakfast?” my uncle asks me. “I'm craving an Egg McMuffin this morning, and Zach claims he's never had one.”

I snicker. “I can't even imagine how a fast-food breakfast will compare to what Zach's used to eating at his house.” I
describe one of the usual farm breakfasts, which only makes my uncle hungrier.

“Hurry,” he tells me. “Zach and I will finish checking on the patients while you're gone.”

While I'm waiting for our order at McDonald's, my dad calls. “Hey, I've got an idea you might like,” he says eagerly. “How about if you and I drive Zach down to Holmes County tomorrow to take him home. We could make a whole day of it and even stop at the aviation museum along the way.”

“Zach really wants to see that,” I tell him. I'm about to question whether or not Zach really wants to go home, but my order is up. “I'll ask him about it and get back to you, okay?”

By the time I get back to the clinic, Marie has shown up. “The guys went upstairs,” she tells me.

“You're working today?” As I recall, Marie doesn't usually work on Saturdays.

“Brad's going to an out-of-town wedding with Claire this afternoon. I promised to fill in.”

“How's Gretchen doing?” I realize that I forgot to ask my uncle earlier.

“She looks real good,” Marie confirms. “Her owner is coming by this morning to visit.”

“Tell Jennifer hi for me.” I wave the bag of food. “I better get this upstairs.”

I don't tell Zach about Dad's suggestion until we're on our way home. I suspect by how quiet he gets that he's not so sure. “I'm not saying you have to go home,” I say in a backtracking
sort of way. “I mean, that's totally up to you. Dad just thought if you needed a ride, it might be fun to drive down there. And we could stop at the aviation museum along the way since it's down by Akron. He thinks you'd really enjoy seeing all those old fighter jets.”

“
Ja
. . . I'm sure I would.”

“So, anyway . . . think about it.”

“I have thought about it,” he declares. “It's a good idea. I'll accept your dad's offer.”

I'm a little surprised but try to hide it. “Cool. I mean, great. It should be a fun trip.” The truth is, I'm a little uneasy to see Zach's farm again. I mean, on one hand, I can't wait to see it. But at the same time I really don't want to see his mom. I can only imagine the frosty way she will glare at me if she sees me “returning her son” like this.

“How will your family react?” I ask as I exit the expressway. “I mean, will they be glad to see you?”

He shrugs. “It's hard to say.”

“Do you think they'll be angry?”

“Mamm might be a little vexed that I left when I did.” He shakes his head. “Especially considering how she worked so hard to get Rachel Yoder to come visit.”

“You mean by hurting her foot?” I glance his way. “Do you think she did that on purpose?”

He makes a small, humorless laugh. “I doubt she'd go that far. But she certainly made the most of it.”

“Rachel is a lovely young woman.” Okay, I cannot believe I just said this.
Really?

“
Ja
, that is true enough.”

I decide that since I'm in this deep, I might as well just go for it. “Rachel is an excellent cook and a good housekeeper.
I was impressed with how she stepped right in to handle your mother's responsibilities. As if she was made for it.”

“That is for sure.”

“She's hardworking and cheerful—as if she loves to work.”

“
Ja
, there is no doubt about that.” His tone remains cool and aloof, as if he's playing a game with me. Or maybe he's irritated. It's hard to tell.

“She would make a great wife—for an Amish guy, I mean.”

“You sound like my mother, Micah. Are you saying you think I should marry Rachel?”

“No, no, of course not.”

“Then what?” He turns and stares at me.

“I don't know . . . I, uh . . . ” I stammer. “I mean you could do worse, Zach.”

He lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Can't you see that Rachel is in love with you?”

“In love?” He seems genuinely surprised.

“Yes. I saw her, Zach. The way she looked at you, catered to you. The girl is clearly in love.”

He slowly shakes his head. “I don't know about that.”

“Well, I'm a girl and I do,” I declare as I turn onto my street. “Rachel just lit up whenever you were nearby. She went out of her way to get your attention. Are you saying you didn't notice that?”

He shrugs. “Not particularly.”

“Well, maybe you should.”

“Should what?” He sounds aggravated as I pull into the carport.

“Should take notice.”

“Fine,” he opens the door, gets out, then firmly closes it. “I will.”

As we go into the condo, I wonder, did we just have our first fight? And if so, why?

When we get inside, I see a note saying that Dad's playing golf with a buddy. Zach, who's still acting annoyed, maintains a very low profile. He goes directly for the guest room, and I go pick up my kitty. Then, while I'm doing some laundry, he slips out to take a walk. This time he leaves a note. As I'm folding a load of my clothes, I begin to feel irked. Is this how Zach shows his gratitude for all that I've done for him—working to plant corn, spending time with his family, bringing him home with me—he just takes off by himself on the last afternoon that we have to spend together? What is wrong with that boy?