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Chapter or Story
Part 9: After Dark
Jarod felt the warm breath of the dog on his face before he was properly awake, and reached up to push him away.
“Charlie,” he mumbled sleepily, trying to roll over. “It can’t be 5:30 yet. Go ‘way.”
When nudging the man with his nose and then a paw failed to illicit the appropriate response, Charlie began to vigorously lick Jarod's face, resulting in the man sitting up immediately.
“You are a demanding creature,” he complained, reaching out to gently tug on the dog’s ear. “I guess you want to go for a run, huh?”
Jumping off the bed, Charlie enthusiastically ran over to the far side of the room as Jarod got out of bed, laughing.
“Okay, okay, give me time to get dressed first.”
A dull thud at his feet made Jarod reach down to find one of his sneakers on the floor, and the man picked it up, waving it in the direction from which he could hear the dog snuffling.
“Socks first, Charlie, then shoes. And tracksuit too.”
Waiting for the other shoe, Jarod checked his watch. “I thought so,” he grumbled. “It’s not five yet! What on earth are you waking me at this hour for? I could have had half an hour longer to sleep.”
Knowing that there would be no peace if he returned to bed, Jarod changed into his tracksuit and pulled on his shoes before running a comb through his hair. Walking over to the door, he took the harness and knelt down beside the dog, buckling it on and then standing again. Charlie leading the way, the two silently made their way down the stairs and to the back door of the building.
“You’re up early this morning, Mr. Crawford,” one of the boys working at the Institute remarked as he opened the door and followed them outside.
“Blame Charlie,” Jarod retorted with a grin. “Personally, I’d have been happy to still be asleep, but no, he wanted to get going.”
“Have a good day,” the boy remarked, laughing, before heading for the kennels in which the dogs that were still being trained lived.
Charlie led Jarod to the area in the grounds where, during the past few weeks, they had been running daily, and the man unbuckled the harness, knowing that, while he kept to the path, he couldn’t get lost.
“Off you go, you demanding creature,” he directed Charlie good-naturedly. After hearing the dog’s paws on the gravel up ahead, Jarod stretched for several minutes and then began his jog. Before he had gone far, however, he heard the dog return, dumbstruck when Charlie pushed up against Jarod's legs, forcing him to stop.
“What is it?” he demanded, bending down to pat the animal. “You want a run, so let’s have one.”
Even as he straightened, however, Charlie once more threw himself against Jarod's legs, forcing him back until the man almost fell. As Jarod stumbled at the unexpected pressure, the dog seized the harness in his teeth, pushing it firmly into Jarod's hand. At the same instant, a voice could be heard calling from behind them.
“Jarod! Jarod!”
The insistent voice made Jarod turn as he regained his balance. Charlie threw himself at the blind man’s legs, forcing him forwards, and a firm hand grasped Jarod's shoulder to prevent him from falling on his face.
“What on earth is going on?” Jarod demanded impatiently, rapidly recovering from his shock at both Charlie and Simon’s actions. “Are you both insane?”
“They were pruning the trees along here yesterday afternoon,” the trainer explained bluntly as the dog sat almost on top of Jarod's feet, panting for breath. “Because it wasn’t supposed to rain last night, they left the pruning equipment out here. If you’d fallen over one of the cables scattered on the ground right in front of you, you probably would’ve got a hedge-trimmer in the face.”
Jarod sank to his knees on the path as he realized what could have happened if Charlie had failed to respond so promptly. Pulling the dog closer, he buried his face in the soft ruff of hair around his neck, feeling Charlie try to lick his face, whining softly at the man’s silence.
“Good boy,” he murmured almost automatically, feeling himself beginning to tremble.
“I was planning to grab you before you went out,” Simon explained, kneeling beside the man and dog. “But by the time I got to your room, you were already gone. One of the boys told me he saw you heading out.”
Raising his head, Jarod straightened up, slowly rising to his feet. Simon placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice revealing his concern.
“You okay?”
“Uh huh.”
Nodding numbly, Jarod fastened the harness on the dog, which waited patiently at his feet. Simon moved to his left-hand side and offered Jarod his arm, escorting him back to his room.
“There’s still more than an hour until breakfast,” he reminded the other man gently. “Take a break. This won’t get you out of your session later, you know. I’m going to be just as harsh as ever, even if it is the final time.”
Smiling weakly, Jarod let himself into his room, closing the door and walking over to his bed, lying down and feeling Charlie curl up on the bed next to him. Forcibly stopping himself from simulating what could have occurred if the dog hadn’t reacted so well to his training, Jarod started regularly stroking the dog’s head, controlling his breathing and trying to slow his heart rate as it pounded in his ears. Sliding off his shoes, Jarod curled up beside his dog, one arm around the animal’s neck, and closed his eyes.
“I’ll give you a hand with your bags to the check-in desk, if you like, Mr. Crawford,” the driver proposed.
“Thanks, that’d be great,” Jarod responded as he got out of the car, feeling Charlie standing stiffly in his harness, ignoring the turmoil of the airport. When Jarod heard the trunk lid being closed, he returned his attention to the Seeing Eye dog. “Find the entrance, Charlie.”
The doors slid open in front of him, feeling the warmth of the heating on his face as a contrast to the cold weather outside.
“This way, Mr. Crawford,” the driver directed from off to the right. Charlie immediately went in the same direction, Jarod following. At the ticket counter, the sightless man provided the necessary identification before the driver touched him on the arm. “I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Crawford. You’ll be fine from here on in.”
“Yes, I know,” Jarod responded, placing his hand on the dog’s head. “Thanks for your help.”
Hearing the man walk away, Jarod turned his attention back to the woman at the ticket desk, who placed the boarding card in his waiting hand.
“Gate 5, sir. Boarding will start in half an hour.”
“Thank you.” He took the ticket and card, putting it into his pocket, before picking up his cabin bag and turning away. “Charlie, we’ve still got some time. How about a coffee?”
“Jarod!”
The voice called him eagerly from the left but, feeling that Charlie hadn’t veered to the side as he turned, Jarod guessed there must be a barrier in the way and followed the dog, suddenly feeling Nicole’s arms flung around him. Charlie stopped abruptly as Jarod dropped his bag, returning the woman’s embrace.
“Hi,” he murmured into her ear.
“You’re late,” she scolded, picking up his bag.
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault,” he protested indignantly. “I wasn’t the pilot!”
Nicole squeezed his arm as she laughed. “Ann wanted to come too, but she had to work.”
“I’d rather just have you,” Jarod told her softly, kissing her fingers, before turning his attention to his dog. “Charlie, find the luggage carousel.”
At once, the dog stepped forward and Nicole had to increase her usual pace to keep up with them.
“I didn’t know we were running a race,” she complained breathlessly, as Charlie finally halted at the conveyor belt, along which the flight’s luggage was already beginning to appear.
“You’ll get used to it,” Jarod laughed. “I did.”
Nicole looked down at the dog, which was keeping an eye on the various bags. “Not particularly friendly, is he?”
“He’s working,” Jarod reminded her. “Wait ‘till we get home and you’ll have him in your lap.”
“That’s Toby’s spot,” Nicole laughed. “But maybe they could share.”
At this juncture, Charlie gently nudged Jarod's leg with his nose. “That’s mine,” the man stated immediately. “Nicole, would you…?”
Lifting the bag off the carousel, she turned to stare at him. “Are you telling me that dog could tell which suitcase was yours?”
“Of course.” Jarod shrugged, grinning as he gently patted the dog’s head. “He even helped me to pack it, didn’t you, Charlie?”
Carrying one of the bags into the room, Jarod placed it on his old bed and opened it, starting to take out some of the clothes.
“Do you need any clothes washed?”
“I did a load yesterday,” he told her.
“You?” Nicole protested. “You, wash? The days of miracles are still with us!”
Not responding verbally to this, although Jarod couldn’t help grinning, he began putting away his things. Feeling the furry head nudging his leg, the man bent down beside the dog.
“It’s okay, Charlie. I haven’t forgotten you. I’ll find somewhere to put your things just as soon as I finish here, okay?”
Charlie enthusiastically licked his face and, straightening with a laugh, Jarod wiped his cheek.
“I’m going to have to start carrying a towel.”
“That’s a small price to pay,” Nicole remarked quietly, stroking the dog’s head as he walked over to her, thrilled by the look of happiness in Jarod's eyes.
“Maybe you’re right.” Jarod took the last clothes out of the bag and placed them in the drawer, closing it with a bang. “Did you have plans for dinner?”
“Ann invited us around to their house.” Nicole wrapped her arm around his as they went out of the bedroom and towards the living room.
“Charlie, too?” the man asked, his eyes dancing as the animal padded at his heels.
“Well, of course,” Nicole laughed. “We can’t have one without the other anymore, can we?”
Jarod stretched lazily as the alarm clock jangled on Nicole’s bedside table, feeling her reach out to turn it off. The mattress bent as she sat up and then got out of bed. He could hear her pulling on a bathrobe and grinned.
“You know how sorry I feel for you, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” she responded mockingly. “Your sympathy is so affluent as to be non-existent.”
“Well,” he remarked, rolling onto his side, “would you mind keeping the noise down a bit? Some of us are trying to sl – “
The sentence was cut short when, without warning, a pillow hit him in the face. Jarod instinctively clutched it to stop it from knocking the glass of water off his bedside table, hearing the footsteps hurry away down the hall as she fled. He laughed, tucking the pillow under his head and settling back against it. After some time, while he was drowsing comfortably, the mattress bent and Jarod reached down a hand to feel the furry head that was pushing impatiently against his leg.
“Not right now, Charlie,” he told the dog. “For today, I’m going to enjoy not getting up early.”
“Early!” a voice snorted from the doorway. “For your information, it’s almost seven.”
“And that means I’m about to lose your company for the day,” he told Nicole in mournful tones as she sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to hide a smile that threatened to quirk the corners of his mouth.
“You’ve had four weeks without my company,” she reminded him. “I thought it’d take time for you to get used to me being around again.”
“But I don’t have my day all planned out, with walks and exercises,” he reminded her, sitting up. “I have to find things to do.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Nicole leaned forward, kissing him. ”And I shouldn’t be very late, unless an emergency crops up.”
“Anything specific you want for dinner?”
“Surprise me,” she told him. Standing up, she bent down to kiss him again, breaking away as his hand slipped around the back of her neck. “I have to go to work.”
“Just wondering what I could use to tempt you to stay,” Jarod grinned. “But I guess, if you prefer work to me…”
“You never know,” she teased from the doorway. “I might find another patient to bring home.”
“They can have my bed,” he told her obligingly, “as long as I get to keep this one…”
Strapping on the harness, Jarod checked for his wallet and keys before pulling the door shut after himself, hearing it lock. Grinning as he followed Charlie down the stairs, Jarod remembered when he had accidentally locked himself out of the house and had had to wait until Nicole came home, hours later, so that she could let him back in. At the first curb, the Seeing Eye dog stopped with a soft whine and the man realized he had given Charlie no directions.
“We’re just exploring for a bit,” he told the dog. “Turn right and let me know when we get to the shops.”
Following the animal along the streets, Jarod was astonished to find himself passing the park so quickly, recognizing it from a particular area of broken pavement.
“Stop, Charlie,” he directed. “We’ll go in here. Find me a bench and then you can have a run.”
Obediently, the dog led him to the closest bench and, after undoing the straps, Jarod lifted off the harness before checking his watch. In disbelief, he checked it a second time, amazed to find that it had taken less than a third of his usual time to reach the park.
Suddenly, a cold nose on the hand he was about to put into his pocket alerted him to the fact that Charlie had returned.
“What is it?” he remarked with a knowing grin. “What do you want, Charlie?”
The dog butted him impatiently and Jarod produced the ball he had stuffed into his pocket as he left the house.
“Is there anything I do you don’t know about?” he complained. “Okay, here you go.”
Throwing the ball towards the middle of the park, Jarod heard the familiar sound of Charlie’s tags and collar jingling, first growing quickly fainter and then returning. He threw the ball again and again, until he began to feel cold. Standing, he quickly felt Charlie beside him and fastened on the harness again.
“Find a butcher, Charlie.”
Immediately, the dog set off and Jarod felt himself warming up quickly, making a mental note to buy a pair of fingerless gloves so that he could keep his hands warm and still feel the subtler movements of the harness. Charlie suddenly stopped, and Jarod could smell raw meat as he pushed open the door, hearing the welcome of the shopkeeper, to whom Nicole had introduced him several months earlier when Jarod had begun doing the majority of cooking in the house.
Hearing the front door click, Jarod got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen to get the dinner out of the oven. Before he could do so, however, Nicole’s arms slid around his waist and her cold lips brushed his cheek.
“You’re lovely and warm,” she remarked, snuggling up against him. “Had a good day?”
“It was good, it’s now wonderful,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her on the forehead. “How was yours?”
“Busy.” She gave him one final squeeze and then slipped out of his arms. As he got the tray of meat out of the oven, he heard her opening the fridge. “But luckily no surgery.”
“I could fall down the stairs or something, if you’re missing it,” he remarked with a grin, stepping aside to let her serve out the meat he had already carved and getting the vegetables out of the steamer. “Would that help?”
“Don’t even joke about it,” Nicole retorted acidly, carrying the plates through to the table. “But I don’t think Charlie will let you.”
“Probably not,” he agreed, checking that he knew where his drink and cutlery were before sitting down at the table. “I made lemon meringue pie for dessert, so leave space.”
“And did you use add salt or sugar this time?” Nicole queries in tones of suppressed laughter. “Or were you going to try something really different today, like mustard?”
“Well, if you label the jar incorrectly, what do you expect?” he demanded. “I can’t help it that your Braille is slipping.”
Laughing, they began to eat.
Jarod gathered his books and slid them into the bag he carried, hoisting it onto his back, before reaching for Charlie’s harness. As he stood up, however, a hand came to rest on his arm.
“Do you have a minute?”
”Sure.” Jarod followed the professor along the hall, taking a seat when its position was described to him. There was a moment of silence after the other man sat down, which Jarod, his unseeing eyes twinkling behind his dark glasses, finally broke. “Am I right in thinking you have concerns?”
“Actually, yes,” the other man admitted. “I don’t want to sound overly negative, but…”
“But you can’t imagine how I could practice medicine when I can’t see,” Jarod finished for him. “I can appreciate that that could be a slight handicap.”
“Not only that,” the lecturer added. “I also noticed that you weren’t taking notes. Even the most advanced students would find it impossible to succeed without that. So I’ve reached two possible conclusions. I’d like you to tell me which, if either, is correct.”
Jarod nodded, his brain already presenting the scenarios that he, in the opposite position, would have come up with.
“First,” the professor began, “you’re already a qualified doctor, in which case you’re here to check up on my teaching techniques. If that’s the truth, I would really prefer to know.”
“I can assure you, with a clear conscience, that I’m not a qualified doctor,” Jarod told him firmly, grateful that the wording meant he didn’t have to lie. “Nor am I here to test you in any way.”
“My only other conclusion was that you actually have no interest in practicing medicine. I don’t have a problem with students sitting in on the class, but I do prefer to know so that I can direct my attention to those who will benefit more from my teaching.”
Again, Jarod nodded. “That’s certainly a very understandable attitude,” he commented. “But that isn’t appropriate for me either.” He leaned forward slightly. “But what about the scenario that I’ve been taping the lecture rather than writing it down? After all, typing Braille is a lot slower than the shorthand notes I imagine most students take.”
“Are you?” Professor Davidson demanded. “Again, I wouldn’t have a problem with it, but I’d prefer to know.”
“No.” Jarod shook his head. “No, I’m not. Your lecture is up here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Notes, except in Braille, aren’t any use for me, so it’s easier to remember it than to try and write it down. I already lose the benefits of what you write on the board so I don’t want to lose more when I’m trying to remember what you just said and so miss what you say at the moment I write.”
“I’m sorry to sound skeptical,” the other man began, “but I find it difficult to believe that anyone is simply able to remember an entire two-hour lecture.”
Unable to help smiling, Jarod began reciting the lecture from memory. After the first ten minutes, he stopped, waiting for the other man to comment, but there was only silence.
“Professor?” he prompted.
“H… how did you…?”
“I’ve been practicing,” Jarod explained, “ever since losing my sight.” He carefully omitted the long years when he had been required to provide such feats of memory almost daily.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Graham Davidson muttered in disbelief. “In forty-five years…”
“But it’s already been scientifically proven that humans only use about ten percent of their brains,” Jarod stated evenly. “And such feats of memory aren’t all that different from memorizing an entire pack of cards – easier, even, because the subject is related all the way through. My disability is also my advantage: I can’t see, so I don’t have any visual distractions.”
“That’s true,” Graham murmured.
“I just want to study,” Jarod clarified. “I like study, I enjoy learning new things, and it’s something I can do, even with the limitations on my life. I know that, if I qualify…”
“There’s not much danger of you failing, with a skill like that,” Graham told him somewhat tartly, and Jarod smiled.
“When I qualify,” he corrected, “I won’t be able to practice. But I’m not doing it for the right to hang my certificate on the wall and treat the patients. I’m doing it so that I’ve got something to focus on. I like new challenges, new interests. I was getting bored, so I thought I’d start to study again. And medicine is something that appeals to me. My partner is a doctor, so she was very encouraging.”
“How many other lectures do you have today?”
“Five,” Jarod told him. He checked his watch. “One in half an hour.”
“You’re enrolled in far more than the permitted number of subjects,” Graham remarked, having brought up Jarod's student record on his computer. “How did you get permission to do that?”
“I explained the situation,” he responded. “When they knew that, and probably suspecting, as you did, that I was here for fun rather than to qualify, they allowed it.”
“And you’re seriously going to complete these?”
“If I don’t go broke from the costs first,” Jarod joked. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
“If you did finish all these, you could complete you medical degree in under a year.”
“I’d be doing more subjects if they didn’t clash.”
Graham shot a sharp look at the younger man opposite, seeing a small smile on his face. “Do you think you can?”
“I can’t think of any reason why I can’t,” Jarod responded seriously. “And if I don’t pass the exams then I’ll find something else to do. Or sit them again later. I’ve got plenty of time. As far as I know, I’ll be like this forever.”
“And if you did pass, what then? Law?”
“Probably engineering first. It’s always interested me more.”
Professor Davidson chuckled. “You’re actually quite serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Completely.” The humor vanished from Jarod's face. “I hope you don’t think I’m doing this for some publicity stunt. Believe me, that’s the last thing I want to happen.”
“We’d be hard-pressed to keep any student out of the papers if they finished their entire medical degree in under one year,” Graham told him drily.
“Not if nobody but us knows,” Jarod reminded him. “By now, no one will remember that I’m doing extra classes. And most of the ones that clashed were done by you anyway.”
Graham made the necessary leap of logic. “You want me to teach you those extra classes.”
“Only if it’s not too much trouble.” Jarod sat back in the chair. “You could always just give me the books to read and I’ll find someone who can translate them to Braille for me.”
“Actually, we have had visually impaired students before,” Graham remarked. “Many of the books have already been translated.”
Jarod nodded, aware of this fact, which had been his primary reason for selecting this medical school, but deciding not to mention it. “Would it be possible for you to give me the books and set me the exams? If I pass, we could always send a slightly doctored version of my student record to the Medical Board so that I could qualify.”
“And what then?”
“I could specialize.” The younger man shrugged slightly. “There are almost limitless fields, and if I did research, I could even work actively.”
“How would we get around the aspect of your internship?” Graham queried. “There’s no way you could qualify without it. And few patients would be happy to be treated by a visually-impaired doctor.”
“If we faked a student record, it shouldn’t be too difficult to fake a year’s internship, should it?”
“How many times have you cheated the system?” Professor Davidson queried meditatively. “To me, it sounds as if you’re quite practiced at it.”
“I’ve done it once or twice,” Jarod confessed. “But not lately.”
There was a long moment of silence, during which Jarod believed he was being scrutinized by the man opposite.
“This isn’t something I’ve ever done before,” the man began, in a tone revealing to Jarod that he had won. “But I guess there’s not harm in seeing how far we could go. I might even use you as a case study, anonymously, of course.”
“If that’s something I could do to repay the favour,” Jarod shrugged, “then, as long as you could promise it would be anonymous, I can’t see why not.”
“What are you worried about, Jarod?” Graham asked gently. “If that’s the way you want it, I’ve got no problems, of course, but why wouldn’t you want acknowledgement for something that is a one-of-a-kind gift?”
It’s not, Jarod said silently to himself. I could provide you with others. But that’s not a thing I want you to know about.
“Maybe the fame would be nice,” he agreed aloud, “but there’s the other side, where you lose your privacy and rights and become some organization’s guinea-pig. I don’t want to be torn apart, just to see what makes me tick.”
“Fair enough,” stated the other man brusquely. “Give me a little time and I’ll make space for you in my schedule every few days so that we can talk about your subjects and you can ask me any questions you might have. Come by,” he consulted his diary, ”this time tomorrow and I’ll provide you with some books.”
Jarod smiled. “I really appreciate this, Professor.”
“Graham,” the man corrected. “As we’re going to work together that closely.”
Jarod offered his hand as he stood and felt it firmly shaken before wrapping his fingers around the harness as Charlie leapt to his feet. “Do you think I should continue going to the lectures?”
“Whatever you prefer,” Graham told him. “See if you have the time and inclination.”
“I’ll do that.”
Jarod sent a grateful smile in the other man’s direction before farewelling him and leaving the office. Humming softly, he asked the way to the next lecture theater and then passed the details on to Charlie, who immediately headed off in that direction. Meanwhile, in his mind, Jarod broke down the lecture down into its salient points and committed those to memory. Slipping into the room, he sat down at the back, where he would be least noticed by the lecturer, not wanting to have a second such discussion in one day, before sitting back to enjoy the lecture.
Stepping off the bus, Jarod heard the doors hydraulically close behind him before following the dog along the road and around the corner, quickly walking the three blocks to the house. Letting himself in, he thankfully dumped the heavy bag onto the desk in his old bedroom and then bent down to remove Charlie’s harness.
“Okay,” he told the dog, giving Charlie a friendly pat on the flank. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in ten minutes and we’ll have a snack.”
Charlie gave him an enthusiastic lick and bounded out of the room. Laughing, Jarod unpacked the books from his back and stacked them in piles according to subject on the shelf above his desk. Checking that the bag was empty, he placed it on the floor and then retrieved a number of notepads and the machine that would produce Braille labels for him from a drawer before going to the kitchen and collecting a handful of dog-biscuits and a package of Oreos. Filling a glass with milk, he put the objects on a tray and carried it through to the living room.
With Charlie curled up on the floor, crunching loudly on the biscuits, Jarod meditatively chewed on his own snack, his eyes staring unseeingly ahead on him.
“Penny for them,” a voice stated from the doorway and he jumped violently.
“Home already?”
“I’ve got two hours free,” Nicole told him as she walked over to sit beside him on the sofa. “So I thought I’d find out how the day went.”
“Better than we thought,” he replied, curling an arm around her shoulders and feeling her hair tickle his cheek. “He was very understanding.”
“He probably thinks you’re some escaped loony, spinning a tall story.”
Jarod raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Is that so far wrong?”
“While I agree that the Centre sounds like a lunatic asylum,” she conceded, “I somehow can’t see you as crazy, no matter how hard I look.”
“You’re just biased,” he teased. “I’m sure Ann thinks I’m crazy.”
“Whose opinion is more important?” Nicole demanded. “Hers or mine?”
Jarod tilted her chin up so he could softly kiss her lips. “You tell me,” he murmured. “Why would I take any notice of Ann when I can take notice of you instead?”
Giggling, she twisted in his arms so that she was lying across his legs, looking up into his face. “I hope so.”
“I know so.” He gently ran the fingers of one hand through her hair. “When did you say you had to be back?”
“A while,” she admitted softly, stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers. “Why, did you have anything special in mind?”
Jarod pulled the sheet out of his Braille typewriter and slipped it into the folder, quickly checking that the pages were in order before shutting it and pushing it and the relevant textbook aside. As he did so, a pair of hands came over his eyes and he laughed.
“Oh no,” he joked. “How will I ever manage now?”
Nicole giggled, lowering her hands so that her arms rested around his neck, her cheek pressed against his.
“Finished?”
“Just.” He curled his arms up behind her head, hugging her somewhat awkwardly.
“Do you know where Toby is?” she asked curiously. “I haven’t seen him since I got home.”
“He’s been playing with my pens,” the man told her, nudging the furry bundle under the desk with his bare foot, at which the kitten gave an indignant squawk. “I’ve knocked a few off and, from the sounds of it, he’s been chasing them all over the room.”
Laughing, Nicole released her arms from around his neck to pick up the cat, which burrowed into her arms. “Was Charlie jealous?”
“Do you see him in here?” Jarod queried, grinning. “He went off to sulk an hour ago. I’d better go make it up to him, or next time he might walk me under a bus.”
Nicole laughed again. “Feed him. That’ll work.”
“Oh?” Jarod arched an eyebrow as he turned in the chair. “And how do you know that?”
“Because it works with you,” she teased, fleeing the room immediately as he got out of the chair with a mock-growl.
Jarod tied his scarf around his neck before wrapping his fingers around the harness.
“We’re going to the hospital,” he told the dog, keeping his other hand clenched tightly around the bandage he had managed to find, but hadn’t been able to put on properly, feeling his palm throb. “And quickly, Charlie.”
Almost jogging, they managed to get there in fifteen minutes, and Jarod was about to ask his way to Emergency when he heard a familiar voice.
“What are you doing here, Mystery Man?”
“Just the person I want,” he told Ann with a somewhat sheepish smile, delicately extracting his left hand from his jacket pocket and holding it out in her direction. “Any chance of a few stitches while I’m here?”
He could hear the horrified gasp as she grabbed his hand and wrapped the bandage more tightly around it, gently steering him in the direction of the building as she maintained pressure on the cut, which continued to ooze blood.
“What did you do?”
“I was carving and I dropped the knife,” he admitted. “I thought I knew which end was which when I picked it up, but I obviously made a mistake.”
“And ended up with a deep four inch laceration,” she told him as she guided him in through the doors, Charlie following them. “Nicole will kill you. Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”
“Didn’t think I needed one,” Jarod responded with a careless shrug. “I probably got here faster on my own two feet than I would have on wheels anyway.”
“One day you might want to consider the fact that other people can sometimes be helpful to you,” she suggested somewhat acidly, directing him into a cubicle.
“Well, I didn’t try to stitch it up on my own,” he retorted. “Not that I didn’t think about it.”
“I’ll bet,” Ann snorted. “Get Dr. Austen down here,” she directed the nurse who had followed them into the cubicle.
“If she’s not busy,” Jarod added before the woman could leave the room.
“Regardless,” Dr. Stevens contradicted. “For heaven’s sake, Jarod, don’t you think she’d want to know?”
“If she was in the middle of operating, it might constitute a slight distraction,” Jarod reminded her. “Can you just get it sewn up so it’s not this messy when she sees it?”
“I think she’d spot it anyway,” Ann retorted as she began scrubbing her hands at the sink. “Did you realize your jacket’s blood-stained?”
“What color is it?” he demanded suspiciously. “I thought it was dark enough that it wouldn’t show.”
“Royal blue,” she told him, testing the responses in his fingers to ensure he hadn’t severed any nerves. “And it shows every drop. You’re going to have to buy a new one.”
“I’ll get black,” he grinned. “Then it won’t show so much next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” a new voice stated firmly from the doorway, “if I have to cook dinner myself.”
“And when would you get time for that?” Jarod teased, feeling her clutch his uninjured right hand in both of hers. “Or will you just enjoy the delicious products they call ‘food’ here and leave me to starve?”
“Hold still,” Ann directed before Nicole could respond. “I’m going to give you a local anesthetic before I start to stitch this up.”
“Then you can sew his hands together so that he doesn’t do it again,” Nicole remarked, freeing one hand and slipping it around Jarod's shoulders.
”And maybe his mouth, just for a finishing touch,” Ann joked. “Okay, Jarod, I’m going to start from a spot near your thumb. Just try and relax your arm.”
“Why is it that that’s the only instruction you doctors seem capable of giving?” the man queried as his arm was strapped onto a stand so that Ann could get easy access to his hand. “Couldn’t you try to come up with something new?”
“Most of our patients aren’t repeat offenders,” Nicole reminded him, gently stroking his hair. “So we don’t usually have to use the lines more than once.”
“No wonder, considering what you use as deterrent,” he laughed. “I guess I’m just a sucker for punishment.”
“Or an attention-seeker,” Nicole teased him. “Well, at least this gets you out of the washing-up.”
“I knew he always had an ulterior motive,” Ann exclaimed in triumph as she cut off the last suture and began to bandage the wound. “Now, if you could try to obey directions this time, it might help it to heal a little faster.”
“I’ll see how unreasonable they are,” he offered cautiously.
“Men!” Ann groaned. “Right, listen and listen good, Mystery Man. One week of doing as little as you can with that hand. I’d say nothing, but you’d never do it, so just keep it to a minimum. Come back in seven days and I’ll see whether it’s ready for me to take the stitches out or not. You can take the bandages off to wash it, but get Nic to bandage it again right after and keep it bandaged. Clear?”
“As mud,” he retorted with a grin. “I’ll do my best.”
“You’ll do better than that,” Nicole ordered, “if I have to take more time off work to make sure of it.”
“I thought I wasn’t that important,” Jarod teased. “That’s what you said last time.”
Giggling, she helped him to sit up and wiped the harness clean of blood before putting it into his hand. “If you can sit still for twenty minutes,” she told him, “I’ll finish the report I was writing and then I’ll drive you both home.”
“Don’t you trust me walking?” he queried.
“I don’t trust you not to pick up the knife and keep carving as soon as you get home,” she replied quickly. “Am I right?’
“Maybe,” Jarod admitted grudgingly as he followed her into the elevator. “But dinner’s going to go cold while it waits for us – if Toby doesn’t eat it all first.”
“It won’t hurt for once.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “And if we have to, we’ll order pizza or something.”
“Hmm, maybe I should do it more often,” he remarked, pulling her slightly closer and pressing his lips to her hair.
“And maybe you shouldn’t,” she told him bluntly. “Please, Jarod, I don’t think I could cope.”
“I wasn’t trying, you know,” he told her softly as she guided him into her office. “I wouldn’t want to make you worry.”
“I know.” She stood in front of him as he sat down, reaching over to dampen a piece of gauze and using it to wipe the traces of blood off his face before kissing him. Taking down one of the Braille books from the shelf above his head, she placed it in his hand before throwing the gauze into the bin and then sitting down at her desk.
