“Stay in here and let me see what’s going on.” He grabs a black bag that looks like a medic bag from the backseat, opens it, puts blue gloves on and fils a syringe from a small vial. “Tranquilizer, in case it wants to attack me.”
He climbs out of the truck and approaches the animal with caution to make sure that the dog is either knocked out or non-violent, but it doesn’t move. Clay leans down and kneels on the ground next to the poor thing and gently touches the dog’s head with a light stroke, and it’s eyes blink open, roaming with pain and fear that cuts me to the core. Tears escape my eyes, and I wipe them away. Screw just sitting here. I get out and make quiet, small steps to stand close behind Clay and grip his shoulder with my hand, just letting him know that I’m with him. He and this hurting, big guy are not alone.
“I told you to stay in the car.”
“I know, but I just couldn’t. He looks so sad. What kind of dog is he?”
“It looks to be a fully grown St. Bernard.”
“Oh, Clay, look. He’s got tags on the collar. He’s someone’s pet.”
“Romi, did you bring your phone?”
“Yes.” I pull it out of my pocket.
“Please call 911 and put them on speakerphone.” The slow connection finally begins ringing, and the emergency dispatcher answers.
It’s the same greeting I heard only weeks ago. “911, what’s your emergency?”
“This is Dr. Clay Walker, please connect me to the emergency veterinary doctor on call. I have a fully grown St. Bernard dog that has just been hit by a car. He is awake and responsive. We’re on mile marker 4, highway 532, northbound.”
“Connecting you now, I will wait on the line to make sure it’s all good before I disconnect."
I hover over Clay and the poor animal, watching as he checks on the dog and works with the doctor that arrives just a few minutes after we hung up. Seeing Clay in his element is invigorating. It is seamless; he makes it look easy and proves his experience at his job. I wonder if I will ever get there as an interior designer. Will it ever be so that my job is easy, or at least I make it look easy? Will I always struggle to find the designs for the space and then be such a clutz while bringing it into fruition?
The ride back was pretty quiet and somber, the dog’s wellness waying heavy on our thoughts. As we pull into my neighborhood, Clay must sense my unease and reaches over the console to squeeze my hand. “Romi, the dog will be okay.”
“Thank you, Clay.” He pulls the truck over to the curb along the sidewalk in front of my house. “Thank you for everything this weekend. I know that you didn’t have to come with me and participate in this scheme, and I know that it was a lot to deal with, but I truly do appreciate it. I mean, I must be totally losing it to even ask you to be my fake boyfriend. Well, at least now it’s over, and you don’t have to be tied down to me anymore. You are a good guy, Clay Walker.” He squeezes my hand a little and releases it.
“You are welcome. The time away from Heartville has been nice. I’m ready to get back, but the small break was refreshing.” His chocolate brown eyes bore into mine, and it looks like he’s going to say something else but stops himself. He climbs out of the truck, helps me get my bags and chastely kisses me goodbye on the cheek.
The week drags on as I try to drum up some new business. I hate cold calling, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Everyday I have done nothing but non-stop calling of businesses and builders, hoping and praying that they will give me a little yes. Hell, I’d even take a maybe right about now. Everyone has been a firm no. Yeah, I know, one more no equals one more closer to a yes, but it’s hard to keep positive when the thought of failing and having to go back to work for my father keeps creeping in.
My phone rings, startling me out of my mini pity party. “Hello, this is Romi.”
“Hi, I’m Casie Miller, Mrs. Winters gave me your number. We had our book club meeting at her house last week. Her den is just fabulous, and she said you are the one who designed and decorated it. I have a few projects around my ranch just outside of Heartville in need of your designer eye. Would you have time to fit me into your busy schedule?”
Mentally, I run through my calendar, and find it so blank that the answer comes with ease. “I loved working with the Winters. It was so nice of them to recommend me to you. Yes, I would love to meet with you to sit down and discuss what you are looking for.”
We arrange to meet in the morning, and I’m so excited that I break out in a big happy dance in the middle of my living room floor. “Oh yeah, baby! Oh yeah! That’s what I’m talking about! Bring it on, I got this!” I chant, while jumping around like a buffoon, stumbling on the corner of my coffee table and falling onto the couch. Okay, this clumsy girl better settle down before I break something and have to call Dr. Wrangler.
Awe, that thought makes me smile and sends a pang of sadness to my heart. I loved being in his company for those couple of days. He’s easy to get along with, caring and attentive, not to mention amazing to look at and to feel against me. Dang, it’s hot in here all of the sudden, I need to check to make sure the air conditioning is on.
I’m so excited that I don’t want to sleep, but then again I want to go to bed early, so this day can be over, and I can move on to what’s next in my life.
It turns out in my favor. I don’t have to fight my excitement, and I wake the next morning refreshed and gather a few things to throw in my bag, pack up my portfolio and hit the road to Heartville. I have mixed emotions as I travel down this same road I did a short time back. A homey feeling of comfort and security envelopes me. Maybe it’s because of the town, or that the Winters made me feel at home when I worked on their house. Could it be because I know Clay will be close by, and I can call him if I needed him?
Honestly, I don’t know, but I do know that I am happy to be coming back and overjoyed to have an opportunity to work here again. My navigation system on my phone directs me to the turn off I need to before I can reach downtown Heartville.
I make a right onto a dirt road that is windy and narrow, causing me to have a brief moment of panic about being in the wrong place. Just a little further up the road I see big machinery moving. As I get closer, it looks like a huge construction zone with multiple buildings being built. True to Ms. Miller’s word, there is a mobile trailer office with a white Suburban parked in front.
I have no idea what this is, but what ever it is, it will be no small task. Here goes nothing, and I exit my car, roll my shoulders back and paste a genuine smile on my face as I walk through the door.
“Hey, there. You must be Romi. Look at you, you are just as cute as a button. Come on in here and let’s sit and chat. There’s a lot to go over, and we best get to it.” Ms. Miller is a little firecracker. She is a petite woman, and her fashion is a bold statement of her personality with ladies cowboy boots, a denim skirt and a blinged out turquoise shirt to match the same color on her boots, topped off with large hoop earrings and her short blond hair styled to a perfect messy look. She completes the appearance of loud, wild and a force to be reckoned with. I like her right off the bat. She seems like she’d be great fun to be around.
“Yes, Ms. Miller.”