Saints Among Us (12 page)

“I’m sure they will be,” murmured Jane. Then she paused. “What’s that Karen Carpenter song we used to like? ‘(There’s No Place Like) Home for the Holidays.’”

“There isn’t. But I’ve prayed about this, and I feel that it is what God wants from me. I know it’s a lot to ask, and I will miss sharing the meal with you terribly, but I believe this is one of the most important missions I have ever participated in, Jane. I wish you could be here to see the change in the animals as they begin to recover from their ordeal.”

Jane thought about it. “Oh, Alice, you have to follow your heart. If you feel called to stay, then who am I to tell you not to listen? God will accept your thanks and praise just as easily in Florida as He will if you’re sitting at home with your family. Louise and I will miss you, but it sounds as if you’re needed down there.”

“Oh, Jane, thank you. Do you think Louise will understand?”

“I do. She’s going to be disappointed, but I know she’ll support you, Alice.”

“Thank you, Jane. Thank you so much. I’ll try to call again before Thanksgiving, but if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry. June and I plan to leave for home a week from tomorrow.”

Chapter Eleven

U
pon their return to camp, Alice, June and Ellen were barely out of the car when Ellen’s children came charging toward them.

“What did Dad say, Mom?”

“Can we stay?”

Ellen kept her eyes downcast as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Alice watched, puzzled.

“Oh man,” Royce said. “He said we have to come home, didn’t he?”

“No! We can’t leave,” Miranda protested. “Joe and the others need us. There are too many animals for them to take care of. Oh, Mom, you have to go back to town. Take me and let me talk to him.” Miranda’s voice was impassioned and Alice could feel her distress.

Ellen stood. “He said…we can stay!” She threw open her arms on the last words and laughed as both teens ran to her, hugging her wildly even as they scolded her for teasing them.

Behind the children, Alice saw Mark approaching. His blue eyes were questioning as he looked at her. “What did your sisters say?”

“Louise wasn’t home, so I only spoke to Jane. But she was wonderfully understanding when I explained that I’ve been praying about it and I feel compelled to stay. June’s children also said they didn’t mind if she stayed, so I guess the five of us will be with you through Thanksgiving.”

Mark’s smile warmed her clear down to her toes. “Fantastic!”

“I’m going to tell Joe,” Miranda announced. “He’s going to be so happy.”

Alice walked quickly back to the CCU. Although she had not had any heat-exhaustion patients in the past day or so, she liked to be aware of any medical issues that cropped up. Besides, Gina might need her help.

The object of her thoughts was seated on the steps of the house as Alice approached.

“Hey, Alice,” Gina called. “How did you guys make out?”

“Ellen, the kids, June and I all are staying through the Thanksgiving weekend,” Alice reported.

“That’s terrific!” Gina also was going to be staying, for which Alice was thankful. She could not imagine how upset Dr. Spade would be if he learned that his one technician was going to leave and he would have no other help but Alice. “Hey,” Gina was saying, “would you see if you can get that shepherd in the bottom left-hand corner to eat?”

“He still hasn’t eaten?” Alice was aghast.

Gina shook her head glumly. “I’ve tried everything. Even Dr. Spade has tried, but he just turns his head away.”

“Poor baby,” Alice said. She was worried. The shepherd couldn’t afford to miss a single meal. His hold on life was tenuous at best, and if he didn’t eat soon, he might not recover. “Could they put in a feeding tube?” That was usually the next step with human patients who were not eating.

“We don’t have the medical staff or the resources to monitor an animal with a feeding tube. Besides, he’s already in such bad condition that surgery probably would kill him.”

“I’ll sit with him,” Alice offered. “I don’t know if I can do anything for him, but I can try.”

She went inside and washed her hands. After making certain there were no human medical problems, she moved on to the CCU. To her relief, Dr. Spade was not about. Mark soon joined her and briefed her on the shepherd’s condition.

“I can’t find anything drastically wrong,” he said. “We don’t have the resources here for exploratory surgery. But my instinct tells me he doesn’t need surgery. I think he’s dying of a broken heart.”

“A broken heart. Can that really happen?” But she knew it could. She had seen it in human patients throughout her years of nursing. People just gave up. It only made sense that the same thing could happen with an animal.

“It’s a disease of the spirit,” Mark said. “As a veterinarian, I hate to say there’s nothing I can do, but I’m at a loss. All we can do is pray.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “Don’t feel too bad if you don’t succeed. We can’t save them all.”

But Alice was determined to try. Mark left to examine another animal while she prepared a bowl of soft food and carried it to the kennel.

As she approached the sick dog, she was filled with sympathy. The shepherd lay listlessly. It did not even lift its head, although its eyes flicked briefly in her direction. Alice opened the kennel door and sat down on the recently cleaned floor just outside the kennel.

“Hey, buddy,” she whispered. “How would you like something to eat?” She reached in a fisted hand and held it before the dog’s nose, letting the animal get her scent, but the dog still did not stir. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you missing your folks? I bet somebody loves you very much.”

She could not comprehend an owner who would go away and leave this beautiful animal behind, but in all fairness, she recognized that many coastal residents were so used to hurricanes that did not become dangerous in their area that they often were lackadaisical about evacuation. This dog’s family probably expected to be home again by dinnertime. The card on the front of the cage gave an address and the circumstances under which the animal had been found. This was the dog, she recalled, that had been found lying in the wreckage of a collapsed home.

“Come on, boy,” Alice said. She waved the food before the dog, but there was no response. After several futile attempts, she reached into the bowl and got some food on her fingers. She was aware that she did not know this dog, but she felt no menace.
Lord
, she prayed,
help me. Use my hands to save this life
. But after thirty minutes, she saw no evidence that the shepherd was interested in eating, even from her open hand.

Then an idea occurred to her. Maybe the dog would eat if he didn’t have to expend any effort in the process. Leaving the kennel, Alice prepared a liquid gruel of high-calorie dog food and filled a large syringe with it. The syringe had a blunt tip for feeding rather than a needle at its end.

She returned to the kennel, this time reaching in to move the shepherd. She lifted the massive head into her lap and began to stroke the dog’s soft fur, tracing the lovely markings and fondling the large, upright ears that were wilted back against its skull. “Let’s try a little food, buddy,” she coaxed. Taking the syringe, she held it to the corner of the dog’s mouth and carefully depressed the plunger just far enough to squeeze a small amount of food along the dog’s gum line.

Still, the dog didn’t respond. Even though there was food lying right in his mouth, he wouldn’t make the effort.

Alice’s heart sank. “Come on, boy,” she said. “You can’t quit. What if your family’s coming back? I bet they’re searching everywhere for you. You can’t let them down. You made it this far.” She bent her head and brushed a kiss across the crown of the dog’s head.

And she felt the shepherd move. Afraid to make a sudden gesture that might startle the dog, she strained to see out of the corner of her eye. What she saw made her heart swell with gratitude. The dog had licked his chops and the food Alice gave him was gone.

Thank You, Lord. Thank You so much
.

Lifting her head, Alice squeezed another small bit of food out, and this time, the dog licked its mouth right away. On the third try, he actually stirred, lifting his head for a second before laying it back in Alice’s lap.

The door of the CCU opened. Mark and Dr. Spade came in, discussing how best to treat a wound. She heard Mark’s soft exclamation and then both sets of footsteps stopped, but she was afraid to move too much.

“Alice?”

“Hi. He’s eating,” she whispered.

“That woman shouldn’t be reaching in there.” Dr. Spade kept his voice low, but there was anger in his tone. “All we need is for one of these people to get bitten and sue the pants off of every rescue organization imaginable.”

“Alice wouldn’t do that,” Mark said. “Besides, I don’t believe she’s going to get bitten. Look.”

The shepherd’s tail had begun a slow wave back and forth across the blanket as Alice fondled the thick ruff at its neck. She held the syringe against the side of the dog’s mouth and depressed the plunger again, and this time, the white teeth parted, allowing Alice to squirt some food directly into its mouth.

“Let’s let them alone.” Mark’s voice was low and gentle.

“All right,” Dr. Spade responded. Then he looked down at Alice. “Please be careful. We can’t afford to lose our hardest worker.”

Both men turned and quietly left the critical care unit while Alice sat there staring. Had Dr. Spade just said something kind? Something complimentary? She raised her hand and pretended to check her own forehead for fever. “You must have imagined that,” she said to herself.

She bent over and kissed the shepherd again. “What a good boy you are. Let’s finish this up, and maybe you can eat some out of a bowl.”

Reaching for the bowl she’d prepared earlier, she set it in the kennel and was thrilled to see the dog lift his head and sniff the food. He wasn’t standing, but that didn’t surprise her, given his weak and emaciated appearance. “Eat up, buddy,” she murmured.

Just then, a single sharp yip sounded behind her. Alice turned around. Her little friend from her first night of intake, the black-and-white cocker spaniel, was on her feet, nose pushed as far as possible through the openings of her kennel. Her entire posture shouted, “Hey! What about me?”

“Did you think I forgot you? You’re still my favorite girl.” Alice walked over and knelt before the kennel. “I’m going to feed you and take you out for a walk in a little while.”

The little dog stood on its hind legs against the bars. In that position, Alice could see the ugly tumor that marred its soft underbelly. She prayed every evening that the tumor was benign and that the cocker would have plenty of years left. But Mark had not been any more optimistic than Dr. Spade had in his assessment of the tumor, and Alice feared the worst.

Louise held the first rehearsal for the Santa Lucia celebration the Tuesday evening before Thanksgiving. Rev. Thompson had announced it from the pulpit for the previous two Sundays, and Louise also had placed the notice in the bulletin about it last week.

She looked on anxiously as the chapel began to fill with children at seven, the designated time for the group to gather. If no one came, the Lindars family might not feel very welcome at Grace Chapel. Louise thought the Santa Lucia celebration would be a lovely addition to the church’s Advent preparations and hoped others would feel the same way.

Not long after seven, Louise began to see that her fears were groundless. First to arrive were the Lindars: Karin and her three youngest children, Marit, Niklas and Mattias. They had not even removed their coats when Charles and Sissy Matthews, two of Louise’s piano students, arrived. A steady procession of children followed: Many of Alice’s ANGELs came, including Kate Waller, who brought her seven-year-old sister Abby; and Sarah Roberts, looking totally disgusted as her younger brother Eason came in making lots of noise. Louise put a quick stop to Eason’s outbursts.

Briana and Tiffany Sherman arrived next, followed immediately by the two youngest Dawson boys and another brother and sister from the congregation. Louise and Karin both winced as the rowdy Trimble brothers, both in fourth grade, burst through the door.

As she surveyed the group of participants, Louise took a deep breath. That block of eight- and nine-year-old boys bore close watching, but she was delighted that nearly two dozen of the chapel’s children had turned out for this. There was a paucity of older boys, whose mothers probably hadn’t been able to bribe, threaten or force them to attend, so the older group consisted of the ANGELs and a few other girls.

As the children took seats in the pews, Louise offered a simple explanation of Saint Lucy’s good works, Swedish customs that Karin had told her about and the theme of light they would use in their service.

“All right, then, boys and girls. We’ll start with the song we all will sing together. Almost all of the songs we will learn are titled ‘Santa Lucia,’ so I shall refer to this one by its first line: ‘Hark! Through the darksome night.’”

“
Darksome
’s not a word,” chortled one of the Trimble boys.

“It most certainly is, young man.” Louise’s voice brooked no argument. “These songs were written many years ago when people often spoke and wrote differently than we do today.”