Seaglass Summer (3 page)

“Don’t you want to move back there?”

“Sometimes—but this is my home now. My heart will always be in both places. In two countries. But I live here, where I’m needed.”

“Don’t the animals need you in India, too?” I chew on my toast.

“I’ve found a place here, where people trust me enough to bring their animals to my clinic. I care for them. They’re my island family.”

“How did you end up here? I mean, this is the middle of nowhere.”

“I followed your ma to America. She was first in the
family to leave her home country.” Fingers curled around his teacup, he looks upward and smiles a little, as if remembering a happy moment. “I started in Virginia, then followed her west. I stopped in Seattle and got a job at a clinic there. One day, a lovely woman brought her old German shepherd for a paw massage. I improvised. I don’t specialize in dog massage, but I did my best. I couldn’t take my eyes off that woman. We fell in love. She was from Nisqually Island, and she wanted to move back here, so I followed her. What we won’t do for love. But she was a carefree spirit. When her dog died, she left to travel the world. I’d grown to love the island. So, I stayed.” He sighs. “Nothing ever remains the same.”

“I’m sorry she left you, Uncle.”

“Time heals all wounds, nah? Nisqually Island is a soothing place. I’ve come to know myself here. I’ve learned to love the birdsong, the sound of the sea, the cedar trees.” He glances at his watch. “Oh no. I was supposed to leave five minutes ago! I lost track of time.”

“Are you going like that?” His hair still sticks out on one side and is plastered down on the other.

“Like what?” Uncle Sanjay spreads chutney on another piece of toast.

“Do you have a comb? And your buttons are done up wrong.”

He glances down at his white shirt. “So they are.”

I do up the buttons the right way. “Do you have an iron for the wrinkles in your shirt?”

“I might have had one many moons ago.”

“We’ll have to do the best we can without one.” I get up, and in a minute I’m back with my brush, comb, and hand mirror from my purse. I make him hold the mirror while I work. My job is harder with Stu’s drooling tongue in the way.

When I finish, Uncle Sanjay holds the mirror up at all angles. “My dear niece, I’m handsome!”

“You look perfect.” I’m smiling.

“The ladies will come running from all over the islands, nah? You’re good at combing my hair.”

“I’m good at braiding hair, too. But yours is too short for braids. Plus you’re a man.”

“You could be very helpful at the clinic with such skills.”

A warm tingle spreads through me. “We’d better go. We’re already late.”

Chapter Five
LULU

T
he moment I grab Stu’s leash off the wall, he tears back and forth to the front door, claws scrabbling on the hardwood floor. He slips and slides, bumps into the wall, then dashes back, knocking over a plant.

His excitement rubs off on me. I run out the front door, and he yanks me into the cool morning. Uncle Sanjay, carrying a black briefcase, is close behind in his squeaky shoes.

The night left a sliver of moon in the sky, fading as
the sun rises. In the distance, the ocean twinkles through the trees. Stu squats in the dewy grass, then pees against mailboxes all the way into town. We pass wooden cottages and bright gardens and people out speed walking. Everyone waves, and Uncle Sanjay waves back. His combed hair blows in the breeze, but he still looks handsome.

I trot to keep up with his long strides. “Um, I wonder, could I order another veterinarian kit? My dad gave me some emergency money. I’ll also need a white lab coat and vinyl gloves.”

Uncle Sanjay grins. “For now, you can borrow a lab coat, and perhaps sometime soon, I’ll show you how to use a stethoscope.”

“Really? Yay!” I’m skipping along now.

“Working with animals is not only about having equipment. You have to practice, learn, and trust your instincts.”

“But you need a stethoscope, don’t you? I mean, to listen to a dog’s heartbeat, right?”

“Indeed—but the stethoscope is only a tool. You must use your mind, your heart, your steady hands.”

“I have steady hands.” I hold them up, fingers spread. “They look like yours.”

“Yours are much smaller and prettier, and far less hairy.” Uncle Sanjay chuckles. “Stu, no!”

Stu is burying his nose in a tipped-over trash can, chomping away on garbage as if the soggy wrappers are a gourmet supper. Uncle Sanjay grabs the leash and drags Stu away from his feast.

Stu instantly forgets the garbage. Now he’s sniffing a scent trail in the grass, all the way to Nuthatch Street, a shady lane off Witless Cove Road. At the end of the lane sits Uncle Sanjay’s clinic like a gingerbread house in a forest. A bright sign out front reads:

Under the sign, a bed of white daisies bloom, surrounded by a ring of small smoothed chunks of frosted glass in a rainbow of colors. I pick up a red piece and hold it up to the light.

“Seaglass,” I say.

“From all around these islands. You can find pieces washed up during low tide. Some of these pieces are imported.”

“So beautiful.” I put the glass back in its place. I want to find treasures like this on the beach.

“Come, we go in the back way, in case clients are waiting to ambush me up front,” Uncle Sanjay says. Bumper stickers crisscross the door:

Inside, the air smells of minty antiseptic. The tile floor shines, reflecting the pictures of fluffy pets on bright white walls.

Stu trots down the hall as if he owns the place, and turns left into a room labeled
DOC CHATTERJI’S MESSY OFFICE
.

“There’s my assistant, Duff!” Uncle Sanjay points down the hall. “I couldn’t function without her help.”

Duff speeds by as if blown by wind, then stops to stare at Uncle Sanjay. “Doc, you look different today. What is it? New clothes?” Everything about her sticks out—her nose, her spiked blond hair, her shoes, and the pens in the pockets of her blue scrubs.

“My niece combed my hair. She can perform wonders.” He pats my back, and I blush.

Duff nods at me and glances at her watch. “You’re late. I’ll prep for the first appointment.” She disappears into a room on the right labeled
DOG EXAM
.

Uncle Sanjay drags me up front to the reception area. “Announcing my famous niece Poppy Ray! This is my indispensable office manager, Saundra MacLeod.” He
speaks so loudly people in the waiting room stare. A cat meows in a carrier.

I’m still blushing. “I’m not famous—”

“She comes all the way from Los Angeles,” he says, interrupting me.

Saundra bustles out from behind the counter and envelops me in a hug that smells like a flower shop. Her pink dress squeezes all her curves; her bright red hair is piled on her head in a bun. “Not sure this is the place for a kid your age.”

I freeze. What’s wrong with my age?

“Please lend her a lab coat,” Uncle Sanjay tells Saundra.

She frowns. “But why—”

“And a stethoscope,” I say. “And tongue depressors—”

“One thing at a time,” Uncle Sanjay says. “Let’s start with the lab coat. Saundra, will you do the honors?” He rushes off into the exam room.

Saundra gives me an
I can’t believe this
look. “Aren’t you jumping the gun, young lady?”

“I’m planning to become a vet.” I stand tall.

She looks me up and down, her lips pressed together. “You got a long way to go.” But she brings me a lab coat. She chose a large one, maybe on purpose. I have to roll up the sleeves.

Somewhere, a dog barks, and the phones ring, the lines blinking like Christmas lights. “Be careful. Don’t go
around touching everything,” Saundra tells me.

“But—”

“We give clinic tours to schoolkids, but their parents have to sign waivers. If a dog bites a child, the parents promise not to sue us. You’re Doc’s niece, so we’re probably safe, but you’d better not get into trouble anyway, you hear me?”

I nod, but I’m not a
child
. What kind of trouble could I possibly get into?

Saundra dashes behind the counter and picks up the phone. “No, we don’t treat farm animals. You need to call Island Vet up in Freetown.” She hangs up and frowns at me again. “Young lady, you need to—”

The phone rings. “Uh-huh, we take payments if you’ve been here before and have established your credit with us.” She hangs up. “So, Poppy—oh, wait.” She takes another call. “Doc Chatterji does not declaw cats. There are caps you can use on the claws. Sure, you can call up to Freetown, but I don’t recommend … Hello? Hello?” Saundra hangs up and curses under her breath. “I can’t get a minute to myself these days.”

The front door squeaks open, and a golden cocker spaniel bursts in and races toward me, wagging her stubby tail. I barely jump aside in time. She scrambles past me and knocks the magazines off the table.

“Good morning, Lulu, Mrs. Lopez!” Saundra breezes
into the waiting room holding Lulu’s chart, like a dinner host carrying a fancy menu. She sweeps an arm toward the hall. “Right this way.”

Mrs. Lopez tries to grab Lulu, but the little dog prances away, dragging her leash. She looks like her human—same wavy gold hair and droopy eyes. Mrs. Lopez’s dress fans out at the bottom, like Lulu’s fur. Lulu wags her whole body and wiggles toward me. The moment I pet her, she lets out a stream of pee.

I hop out of the way, nearly losing my balance.

The puddle slowly spreads across the floor.

“Uh-oh,” I say. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Lulu, not again.” Mrs. Lopez scoops up the dog. “She’s got a problem with submissive urination. I do apologize.”

“Oh, well that explains things,” I say, pretending to understand.

Saundra glares at me, as if those two big words, “submissive urination,” are my fault. She gives Mrs. Lopez a sweet smile. “No problem—happens all the time.” She lets out a fake laugh and turns toward me. “If you want something to do, you can mop it up.”

“Me?” I did not plan for this. I’m here to heal the animals, not clean up their pee.

“Mop’s in the hall closet.” Saundra gives Mrs. Lopez a phony smile. “Now, if you’ll come on back …” She
heads toward the dog exam room, turning her back on me.

“Sorry I made Lulu pee,” I say to Mrs. Lopez as she breezes by with Lulu tucked under her arm.

She touches my shoulder. “Lulu can’t help it, sweetheart. She gets excited, especially if she knows that you’re excited or nervous—”

“But I’m not nervous—”

“She loves you even if you are. She loves everyone. She’s saying hello.”

What if humans lived like Lulu, letting loose every time they greeted their friends? Instead of waving at each other on Nisqually Island, they would lift their legs and pee, like Stu did on his way to the clinic.
Oh, hello, George
. Pee.
Howdy, Mary
. Pee.
I love you, Dr. Chatterji
. Pee.

But humans don’t love everyone the way Lulu does. At least, I don’t. I see a new truth staring from my reflection in the window. I’ve wanted to be a vet for my whole eleven years of life. But I don’t love losing my clothes, or my suitcase, or my veterinarian kit. I don’t love being stuck in the middle of nowhere without a cell phone signal. And I don’t love Saundra MacLeod.

Chapter Six
GROSS STUFF

“C
areful you don’t step in that pee and track it around,” a scratchy voice says behind me. I turn, and I’m staring at a tall, blue-eyed, freckled boy with strawlike hair. He starts cleaning Lulu’s pee with quick strokes of a mop. His eyelids are halfway closed, as if the world is so boring that he’s falling asleep.

The phones are ringing. Saundra runs back from the exam room. “This is my son, Hawk.” She gives him a lovey-dovey
you’re my favorite boy
look. She touches his
cheek, and he makes a face and steps away from her, looking embarrassed. “He helps us out a couple days a week. This is Poppy Ray, Doc’s niece from Los Angeles. She’s staying here while her parents are in India. She wants to become a
veterinarian
.” She says that last word disbelievingly.