Alaskan Sanctuary (21 page)

He wouldn’t. Not in the long run. Too many words had been written. Too much damage had been done.

“Trust me. I don’t.”

Chapter Thirteen

P
iper’s brain hurt.

She wasn’t technically sure that was possible in a biological sense, but hers did. She was sure of it. For hours now, she’d been concentrating so hard on every word that came out of Dr. Stu Foster’s mouth, but there’d been so many of them. Frightening words. Words she didn’t want to have to wrap her mind around. Words like
ventricular arrhythmia
and
cardiogenic shock
. And worst of all—
mortality rate
.

“It looks like the charcoal treatment worked. The first one cleared him of gastric content. I performed a second treatment as a precaution, and nothing came back up.” Stu removed his stethoscope from around his neck, inserted the earpieces and pressed the chest piece against the matted fur on Koko’s side.

She knew it had to be her imagination, but the animal seemed so much thinner already. In the course of a day, her big black wolf had been transformed into a bag of bones. Plus he was filthy from the charcoal treatments and their ensuing sickness. She could barely tolerate looking at him like this. She wanted to give him a bath and brush his hair, which had to be one of the most nonsensical thoughts she’d ever had.

And she was tired. So very tired. She wished she could close her eyes, fall asleep and wake up when this nightmare had ended.

“His breathing is still much shallower than I’d like.” Stu moved the stethoscope around a few more times and listened intently, his face a mask of concentration.

Piper bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from crying, because she knew once she started, she might not ever stop.

“We’ve done all that we can do for now.” The vet pulled the stethoscope out of his ears and let it hang around his neck again. A lifesaver’s necklace. Or so she hoped. “I’ve put a heavy dose of electrolytes in his IV, along with some nutrients, to replace the fluids that he’s lost. I’m also giving him a sedative to keep him calm so he can sleep off the effects of the poison.”

The hard knot that had lodged in Piper’s throat hours ago tripled in size. She couldn’t seem to swallow. Or breathe. “So you do think that’s what it is? Poison?”

Her knees buckled. She needed to sit down again before she collapsed. She sank into the snow. It seeped through her jeans with prickly cold wetness, which she barely noticed. Her discomfort didn’t matter, anyway. Nothing mattered.

Someone had tried to kill one of her wolves.

How could she go on after this? Even if Koko survived—and right now, survival hardly seemed a given—how could she stay in a place where her wolves were so despised that someone had done this?

It was over. Her sanctuary. Her dream. All of it.

Stu crouched down in the snow beside her and placed a reassuring hand on her knee. “Yes, Piper. I’m afraid that’s what it looks like. Koko’s symptoms are indicative of acute poisoning. We won’t know for certain until the toxicology reports come back.”

“I see.” She nodded absently. His voice sounded faraway and strange, as if he was speaking to her from the bottom of a well. She wondered if she might be going into shock. Probably. Wasn’t that what happened when people lost a loved one?

“Try not to take this so hard. Koko’s not out of the woods, but he’s still with us. He might pull out of it. Right now all we can do is wait.” Stu placed a hand on her knee in a gesture she was sure was meant to comfort her. But she didn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel a thing anymore. The cold. The wind. Nothing.

She swallowed. Or tried, anyway. The lump in her throat refused to budge, and she coughed instead. “Wh-where? Where do we wait? At the hospital?”

Koko would hate that. When he woke up—
if
he woke up—the bright florescent lights and all the strange smells would bring back so many terrible memories. Memories that had taken Piper years to help him overcome.

Stu shook his head. “I could take him to the clinic, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. Most wolves do best in their own environment. I’m afraid to place him under any more stress than he’s already encountered. I think it’s best that he stay right here where he’s comfortable. This is his home.”

This is his home.
For how much longer? This land, Alaska, everything she’d ever dreamed of—she felt as if it was all slipping through her fingers.

“Good.” She nodded and somehow did a passable impression of someone who wasn’t on the verge of falling apart.

“Is there anyone I can call for you, Piper? You seem...well, distraught. That’s a completely normal, understandable reaction. I just don’t think you should try to deal with this alone.”

Okay, so maybe her facade wasn’t believable, after all.

“There’s no one.” Never had those words cut so close to the bone. “I mean, I’m not alone. See?” She waved a hand toward the surrounding acreage.

Stu chuckled under his breath. “You have a point. Half the town is in your front yard. Aurora does a good job of taking care of its own. I just wondered if there was anyone special you wanted by your side.”

She looked up. Sure enough, people were milling about everywhere. She’d been so focused on what was going on inside Koko’s enclosure that she’d forgotten the world beyond the chain-link fence even existed. When she’d gestured to the rest of the sanctuary and said she wasn’t alone, she’d been talking about the others. The wolves—Tundra, Shasta, Echo, Whisper and Fury. She hadn’t meant actual people.

Only now, after seeing Stu point to all the folks on the other side of the fence, did she realize how profoundly sad such a mistake seemed.

“I hate to say this, but you’re going to need to keep an eye on him tonight. In the event that he wakes up, we don’t want him pulling that IV out of his leg.” Stu ran his hands along the shaved spot on Koko’s right foreleg where he’d inserted a catheter. “It looks good and secure right now, and we want it to stay that way.”

“Absolutely. I won’t leave his side.” She would have stayed, even if Stu had ordered her gone. Leaving Koko alone right now was inconceivable. “Um, Stu, I have a question.”

He looked up from his vet bag, where he’d almost finished storing away all the supplies he’d used over the course of the morning and afternoon. “Yes.”

“What if Koko doesn’t wake up?” It hurt to ask the question aloud. Her throat burned from the effort it took to articulate her worst fear. “I mean, is it possible that he won’t?”

Stu’s gaze dropped to Koko, sleeping peacefully in the snow. And she knew. Before he even said it, she knew.

He looked back up and leveled his gaze at her. “I’m going to be honest, Piper. Koko is really sick. I wish I knew what kind of toxin he’d ingested. That kind of knowledge is crucial. It would help me make decisions regarding his treatment. But since we don’t know, I’m administering the broadest possible range of treatment protocols. At this point, based on what little we know, I’d say he’s got a fifty-fifty chance of making it through the night.”

Fifty-fifty. Like two sides of a coin. How did that old childhood saying go?
Heads, I win. Tails, you lose.
What she would do for a two-headed nickel right now.

Fifty-fifty. Please, God. Don’t let him die.

She lifted her eyes to the sky, where twilight dripped gray overhead. Moody, like a bruise. Like the storm clouds she’d seen in Ethan’s eyes right before he’d kissed her.

“Stu, actually, there is someone I’d like you to get for me. If he’s still here, that is.” What was she doing? Ethan wasn’t her boyfriend. He wasn’t even technically a friend. But right now, he was the one she wanted. The only one. His parka was still wrapped around her, enveloping her in the comfort of his smoky pine scent. Like a fireside embrace. She needed more. She needed to feel his arms around her again. Only for tonight. Just one more time.

Besides, what else could possibly go wrong? The worst had already happened. Hadn’t it?

“Could you find Ethan for me?”

* * *

Ethan narrowed his gaze at the vet. “Me? Are you sure?”

Stu nodded. He looked exactly like one might expect a person to look after he’d spent a day trying to save an animal from a mysterious poisoning. Exhausted. “Yes. She’s pretty shaken up. These animals obviously mean a great deal to her. I’m not sure she should be alone tonight. The next eight hours are crucial for Koko. Honestly, it could go either way.”

“Right.” Ethan nodded. He’d hoped for better news.

“I asked her if there was anyone special she wanted by her side, and she asked for you.” Stu glanced in the direction of Koko’s enclosure, where Piper sat in the snow with the wolf’s head in her lap.

Ethan knew that if he left and returned the next morning, he’d find her in that exact same spot. If losing Koko was a real possibility—and Stu certainly seemed to think it was—she wouldn’t leave the wolf’s side. The thought of her keeping vigil all alone made his gut ache.

She’d asked for him, of all people. If that didn’t put an exclamation mark on just how alone she was, nothing would. He shouldn’t be the one she wanted. Given everything that had happened in the past ten days, she should have asked for anyone but him.

But she hadn’t. Had she?

“Well?” Stu looked at him, waiting for an answer.

Ethan had every reason to say no. His column, for one. He was due to turn it in at midnight. In light of the day’s events, he had plenty to write about. Of his entire series on the wolf sanctuary, this would likely be the pivotal piece. A story about a wolf’s life hanging in the balance after being poisoned? Readers would eat it up.

And then there was his interview in Seattle. His flight out of Aurora was at sunup. Seattle was his future. Alaska wasn’t. Piper wasn’t.

Anyone in his position would say no.

He nodded. “Okay, then.”

He’d miss his deadline. An unpardonable offense, especially for a reporter who was already skating on thin ice with his editor. Lou was sure to fire him, if not outright strangle him. With any luck, Ethan would manage to land the job in Seattle. He could still catch his flight. He had to. It was either that, face unemployment or embark on a new career in hotel management.

Stu gave him a grim smile. “You’ve got my number. You two call me if anything changes.”

“Will do,” Ethan said, and watched Stu’s truck make the long crawl down Piper’s snowy drive.

He gathered a few things from his SUV—thermal blanket, battery-operated lantern, hand warmer packets. Sleeping in his car those few nights when he was keeping an eye out on the sanctuary had proved at least a little helpful. He may have failed to keep Piper’s wolves safe, but he could keep her warm for a night.

“Hi.” She looked up when he pushed open the gate to Koko’s pen. Her smile was bittersweet and uncharacteristically bashful.

“Hi.” He felt as if he was on a first date, which was a preposterous thing to think in light of the circumstances.

“Thank you.” Her gaze flitted to the lifeless wolf sprawled across her lap, then back to him. “For staying, I mean.”

“Of course.” He wedged the lantern into the snow and flipped it on.

Piper’s face glowed gold and ethereal in its dim light. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Ethan settled down beside her and wrapped the thermal blanket around both of them. It was barely large enough for two. Sitting so close to Piper immediately sent waves of awareness crashing over him. He inhaled a steadying breath and caught the scent of flowers from her hair. Poppies and hollyhocks. Alaskan blooms.

He swallowed and felt as if he was swallowing glass. This was going to be a long night. “No, nothing special. You save me from a boring night in front of the television.”

If she didn’t believe him, she gave no indication. He kept his gaze glued to Koko, though, just in case.

She cleared her throat. “It was awfully nice of so many people to stop by today.”

Ethan nodded. Were they going to make small talk all night? It didn’t seem right. The church folks, the women from the recital committee and the youth group had all gone home by now. Darkness had fallen. Darkness so thick it felt as if the whole world was asleep. Tonight wasn’t a night for chitchat. Maybe it was the way the snow glimmered like sugar under the starlight. Maybe it was the closeness of Piper’s thigh pressing against his. Maybe it was the way Koko’s breathing sounded far too slow and labored. Whatever the reason, the night deserved more than small talk.

Ethan wanted to know her. Really know her. Maybe it was the reporter in him, but he needed to understand how she’d ended up here. She’d told him bits and pieces, but he still didn’t know how things began. Why wolves? “Tell me something. How did you get started with all this?”

“You mean the wolves?” She smiled again, and this time there was the barest hint of joy in her eyes. “Are you asking me how I started rescuing them?”

“Yes.” It was a question that had haunted him since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, but for some reason he’d been either unable or unwilling to ask. Maybe because a part of him dreaded hearing the answer. “Tell me about the first wolf.”

“Okay.” She stroked Koko’s head, pausing. Remembering. “I was sixteen. For days, a stray dog had been hanging around an abandoned building that I passed every day when I walked to school. At least I thought it was a dog.”

“It was a wolf?”

“No.” She shook her head. “A hybrid.”

Hybrids, animals that resulted from the pairing of a wolf with a domestic dog, were extremely rare in nature. Humans bred them, sometimes with the intention to create a “perfect” watchdog, and other times, simply because they could. Whatever the reason, it was typically a mistake. Hybrids made challenging pets, often too territorial to blend into a normal household. Because even a little bit wild is still wild. “Ah.”

“I didn’t know it at the time, of course. I didn’t know anything about wolves at all back then. All I knew was that every day when I passed that building, I saw an animal that was obviously hungry. And obviously homeless.” Her voice lowered to barely above a whisper, as if she were imparting a secret. Something she didn’t want to tell the mountain or the trees. Not even the wolves. Only Ethan. “I guess I identified with that animal. I was in my sixth foster home, and I wasn’t any more wanted there than I had been at the others.”