My Sunshine by Catherine Anderson Page B

damaged artery. Laura had one bad moment when she looked into the wound. Then she thought of Humphrey chasing a ball again, and the black spots in her vision went away. She grabbed fresh gauze to dab away the blood. Isaiah nodded in approval. “Do I remember your saying you couldn’t do this? I think I’ll keep you in here full-time.”
    Laura gave a weak laugh. “No way. I’m happy in the kennels.” Her smile faded when she looked back down at the dog. “Will he make it, do you think?”
    Isaiah reared back to avoid a spurt of blood. “Clamp!”
    Laura grabbed frantically for what looked like a clamp, handed it to him, and nearly collapsed with relief when he used the apparatus to stop the bleeding. “Oh, God. ”
    â€œHe’s right here,” Isaiah said huskily, “lookingover our shoulders and guiding our hands.” He glanced up. “God, I mean. Some people would call me crazy for believing that.”
    Laura wasn’t one of them. In that moment, as she looked into Isaiah Coulter’s eyes, she understood what had led him to become a vet. Not a desire for money or a yearning for prestige. He was here, doing what he did, because he loved animals and felt a calling to help them.
    â€œWith God on duty, maybe Humphrey has a chance,” she said tremulously.
    â€œNo maybe to it. God cares about all of us, man and animal alike. Humphrey will make it.” He threw a look at a speaker in the ceiling above them. “Next time around, remind me to turn on some music. I work better to a beat.”
    Laura’s stomach squeezed. “Next time around?”
    â€œGot a pup with a chicken bone stuck in his intestines.” He winked at her again. “Unless Gloria can work a miracle and get some more people in here, I’m going to need you most of the day. Unless, of course, you have other commitments you can’t weasel out of.”
    Laura had intended to start decorating the waiting room when she got off at noon. A puppy with a bone in his bowel definitely took precedence. “No, nothing,” she said.
    â€œIt’s a date, then, darlin’.”
    An awful thought occurred to Laura. “I won’t have to help with your horse patients, will I?”
    He burst out laughing. “No, we have specially trained techs out in the equine center for that. You’re safe.”
    Laura was relieved. Surgery on dogs and cats was one thing, but surgery on a horse would be something else entirely.
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    For Laura, the morning passed in a surreal blur. She soon stopped thinking about the blood. There were far too many other things to occupy her mind—the names of different implements and surgical techniques, disinfectants, and medications. When she wasn’t standing at Isaiah’s side, assisting in a procedure, she was racing about sterilizing tables or gathering the necessary items to do surgery on another patient.
    Shortly after noon, right in the middle of an operation, this time on a Newfoundland with a stick caught in his throat, Laura noticed that Isaiah’s hands were quivering. Concerned, she studied what she could see of his face above the surgical mask. There was a pale cast to his dark complexion, and his skin shimmered with sweat.
    â€œAre you all right?”
    He nodded, but Laura wasn’t convinced. “Isaiah?”
    â€œI need to eat. Got the weak shakes.”
    â€œWhat did you have for breakfast?”
    â€œNothing. I meant to go by McDonald’s on the way in, but then I got the call about Humphrey and never went.”
    The moment they had the Newfoundland safely deposited in an observation cage and covered with warm blankets, Laura stripped off her surgical scrubs and hurried to the refrigerator. Inside she found mostly soft drinks. The only food items werecontainers of fat-free yogurt and low-fat string cheese, not the most desirable fare for a large, hardworking man. She filled the crook of