Chapter 28
The first north wind started up late last night, screaming its way through the trees. It has brought a slight frost to the area this morning that should be melted soon. The wind is cold, blowing up my sleeves and nipping at my skin. Outside, the trees sway in a certain rhythm with the gusts of air. Maybe tonight I might have my first fire in my house. I think I will
ylebrate and get take out for the occasion.
Starting a line later today than usual, I walk into the clinic. Aurora is there, and the place is
packed, filled with mothers and their sick pups: runny noses, coughs, sore throats, and ears. All the little ones look miserable as they lay their heads on their parents‘ laps or shoulders,
coughing and whining.
Dr. Valentine will be busy for most of the day; those poor pups are so susceptible to infections. They are just like human children until they shift. That’s why the packs will fight for physicians and recruit them with massive incentives and perks. I wonder what they
offered him to come here?
At least these last five days have been quiet with everyone leaving me alone. Not even the Jurker made an appearance to my home. He kept away, probably to provide comfort and care to his moon. The thought disturbs me, but it is not as bad as it used to be. I can deal with it much better. I can maybe really for once in all these years just shrug the feeling off
I can tell Dr. Valentine is in one of the small clinic rooms from the muffled voice behind the door. His smile is still contagious even though it’s not turned my way. I catch him out of the side of my eye, laughing as he comes out of a room with a small pup, whose eyes look all glassy and cheeks of red fire. He has his hand on the mother’s shoulder, smiling at her about something. I just stand there watching for just a second too long before his eyes find mine. Every time he catches me watching him, I feel he must think I’m stalkerish.
“Good morning, Rya.” Our dialogue is kept painfully simple.
“Good morning, Dr. Valentine.” He goes into another small room where a patient is waiting for him, not even pausing for the words to come out of my mouth.
It’s like he closed the curtains on us, the production that barely even started. Our story just stopped before it really had a chance to begin.
Putting my bag down on my desk, I take a seat. My cheeks are flushed from seeing him: I’m still so very fond of his face. I just can’t shut my emotions off. Even though he told me that we should keep it professional, I just can’t help fantasizing about him and that kiss.
Friday, everyone is excited for the weekend, and I decided that I’m painting my bedroom. The color? Agreeable grey. The lady at the paint shop convinced me to buy it. I also bought this beautiful duvet. It’s really a big fluffy cloud, a cocoon I don’t want to get out of in the morning. The cover for it is pomegranate red; the lady at the bedding store said it suited me.
My Friday is a very quick half day; Dr. Valentine’s in and out of rooms. I keep my door open. I can’t resist attempting to catch glimpses of his face. I can see the lines in his forehead, how he gives the prescriptions to the mothers. The stubble on his jaw from at least six days‘ worth of growth, the slant of his shoulders, the way the top button on his collar is undone because it’s becoming too tight around his neck. For the smallest fraction of a second, I can see his eyes as they touch mine before he turns away.
My last appointment is Kimberly, who’s chewing gum, looking like such a small juvenile. No older than me when I first shifted. She still doesn’t have her adult features yet. Her hips are still so narrow; she needs more meat on her bones. This is going to be extremely hard on
her.
“Come in, Kimberly.” I smile easily to her, not showing any teeth, trying to calm her nerves down. I put my hand on her shoulder, a little rub of comfort.
The door to the clinic opens, and Clayton walks in. He’s looking right at me. He takes my breath away…he will always take my breath away. It’s what the moon wants, and he will always do that to me.
Quickly leading her into the examining room, I shut the door tight.
“Sorry about him coming. My mom’s gone with Kennedy, and Dad had this meeting this morning. I don’t drive yet, so he brought me.” She’s staring at the pictures I have put up with those newborn faces.
“That’s all right, Kimberly. Nothing to apologize for.” I try my best to sound believable.
“Let’s have a look at you, shall we?” She climbs up on the table, pulling her shirt up to expose the slight protrusion of her belly. Her hand naturally starts to rub her tummy as all future mothers do. Taking her measurements, I notice that she’s falling shy of what should
Cor
her normal progression. With such a young age, this is the first warning sign something is off
Om
