Because once you started getting involved in other people’s lives, once you began to let yourself care, you opened yourself up to a world of heartache.
And that wasn’t a place she intended to visit ever again.
13
“Congrats on surviving your first week on the job.” Barb Meyers grinned as she flipped off the lights in the last treatment room of the urgent care center.
Logan slipped out of his white coat and hung it in the closet next to the reception desk while the nurse practitioner locked the supply room. “Thanks. It was busier than I expected.”
To say the least.
A broken arm, two cases of strep throat, a gash requiring ten stitches, and a possible concussion they’d referred to Coos Bay for follow-up had kept him hopping on this warm, sunny Friday.
And the rest of the week had been just as hectic.
On the plus side, he’d been able to leave every day at five o’clock and delegate Saturday and the two-nights-a-week evening duties to Barb or Ellen, the physician’s assistant—part of the deal he’d negotiated when he’d taken the job.
But it wouldn’t hurt to have another pair of hands on deck—a part-time nurse perhaps.
An observation he’d pass on to the management team after he’d logged a bit more experience here.
“Any weekend plans?” Barb slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder.
“Other than training my dog—no.”
“Toby sounds like a handful.”
“Yeah.” The staff had offered him plenty of sympathy and advice during the week as he’d shared some of the pup’s escapades—like Toby’s diligence in digging up the flags marking the electric fence boundary instead of learning to respect what they represented.
At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to power up the fence for weeks without fear of freaking out the beagle with an electric shock.
“Hang in there. Most dogs catch on eventually.”
“That’s what Chuck said.” Their office manager, who’d already left for the day, had been happy to share his experience with dogs in the occasional lull between patients. “See you Monday.”
He checked his watch as he hurried toward the door. He was a few minutes behind schedule, thanks to that broken arm, and Mariam would be waiting for him to drive her and Elisa home so she could prepare dinner for her family.
At least the first week of his new daycare arrangement had gone smoothly. Molly and Elisa had become BFFs, and Mariam seemed caring and conscientious.
He owed Jeannette a huge thank-you for suggesting the arrangement. It had been a literal godsend.
And he’d tell her that when their paths next crossed—which could be a while, given that he hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of her since their chat on his porch last Saturday.
He swung onto 101 for the six-minute, traffic-free drive home.
Bliss, after the San Francisco rush hour.
Elbow resting on the open window, he inhaled a lungful of the fresh salt air. Maybe after dinner he’d take Molly and Toby to the beach. A quiet sunset stroll past the sea stacks arrayed offshore would be a relaxing end to the work week.
Mouth flexing into a smile, Logan turned onto his street. It wouldn’t take long to run Mariam and Elisa home, and he and Molly could stop for dinner at the Myrtle Café. Within an hour, they could be at the beach and— Logan frowned.
Why was an older model Sentra parked in front of his house?
He inspected the unfamiliar car as he drove past it and swung into the driveway. Who could have come to call—and had Mariam let a stranger in the house?
A niggle of alarm rippled through him.
That had been one of the firm rules he’d laid down the first day, and with Susan interpreting, he had no doubt Mariam had understood—and she’d promised to abide by it.
So where was the driver?
Logan pulled into the detached garage, slid out of the car, and jogged toward the back door.
Laughter, music, and little-girl giggles greeted him as he approached.
Logan exhaled.
Didn’t sound as if a criminal had invaded his home after all.
He took the back steps two at a time and paused at the porch door to survey the scene in his kitchen, inhaling the tantalizing aroma wafting toward him.
Mariam was at the stove, stirring a mixture in a large pot. Thomma sat at the kitchen table playing some sort of card game with the two girls. Toby was prancing around the activity, as usual.
As soon as the pup caught sight of him, he began barking.
Thomma glanced toward the door, then aimed a forceful command in Arabic at the dog.
Toby ignored him.
Shooting the beagle a stern glance, Thomma set his cards down and held up a dog treat, called the dog over, and repeated the order while gently grasping his muzzle. After a moment he released the muzzle, pressed Toby’s hind quarters into a sitting position, and said the term again. Then he gave him the treat.
The pup stopped barking and stayed where he was.
Until Logan pushed through the door.
Toby immediately scrambled to his feet and began to bark again.
Thomma rose, and Mariam swiveled away from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Hello.” She motioned from the stove to him, raising her volume to be heard above the yaps. “For you. Thank you.”
She’d cooked them dinner?
He pantomimed eating, and she nodded, her features taut. Like she was afraid he’d complain about having delicious-smelling food waiting for him.
“Thank you.” He rubbed his stomach. “Hi, sweetie.” He crossed to Molly and bent to give her a hug. She didn’t snuggle against him—but she didn’t pull away either. “What are you playing?”
“Old Maid.”
If ever there was a politically incorrect name for a game, that was it. But Molly loved it—and anything that made her happy was fine with him.
Mariam walked over to him, held out a slip of paper with Susan’s name and phone number on it, and motioned for him to call the woman.
There must be a message his babysitter wanted to pass on that sign language and her limited vocabulary couldn’t transmit.
He pulled out his phone and sent the barking dog a disgruntled look. Too bad he didn’t have Thomma’s magic touch with Toby.
As if the man had read his mind, he said the word he’d used a few minutes ago. It took three tries, each one more forceful, along with the bribe of a dog treat, but at last Toby fell silent, trotted over to him—and sat as the man had taught him.
It was a miracle.
Motioning Thomma to retake his seat and resume his game, Logan tapped in Susan’s number. After returning her greeting, he explained the reason for his call.
“Yes, Mariam spoke with me earlier today,” Susan confirmed. “She wanted to let you know Thomma got his driver’s license today and can pick them up from now on. She also wanted to tell you she prepared a thank-you dinner tonight for giving her a job and for chauffeuring them all week.”
He shifted around to find Elisa’s grandmother watching him and mouthed another thank-you.
Faint color stole over her cheeks, and she refocused on the stove.
“Can you do me a favor, Susan?” Logan eyed Toby, who was still sitting quietly beside Thomma.
“Sure.”
“If I put Thomma on the line, will you ask him how he managed to get my dog under control—especially the barking?”