Tammy’s Nail Hut, Shoe Connection, and GameZone, but they had no jobs for him. Neva’s clinic occupied the end position on the far right. On the far left sat a sub shop called Armando’s. Other than the Walmart near the highway, and the cluster of stores downtown, this was it for shopping in Harper Creek. Not that he’d ever spent money like some.
He parked the truck far enough away that it wouldn’t be visible from the front and for good measure stashed it on the far side of an SUV. Then it took him a minute longer to master his nerves. As he walked up, he saw that the clinic sign had both paws and claws swiping at letters he couldn’t read. Someone had taped merry-looking turkeys along the front of the window, and the door had a horn of plenty overflowing with paper fruit. A bell jingled as he went inside.
This time, a petite red-haired girl sat at the front desk. She glanced up with a smile. Like Neva, she wore blue scrub pants, but puppies and kittens covered her shirt. “Can I help you?”
“Here.” He handed her the form.
Her expression brightened. “Oh, you’re here about the job. If you want to wait ten minutes or so, Neva can probably squeeze in an interview.”
Shit. If he had to wow her with smooth talk, he’d never get hired. But Zeke nodded and sat down. To make it look good, he picked up a magazine. The words still refused to make sense but he could admire the pictures. Anger simmered inside him. He’d never be . . . right again.
It took longer than the redhead said, but eventually Neva escorted a kitten-carrying girl to the front door. They were both smiling, so it must be good news. Today she didn’t smell of blood and death, just the warm musk of healthy animals and the honey-almond scent he’d noticed before. She wore her hair in a braid today, different than the tail, all twisted up. It made his fingers itch to unwind the strands.
“I have a fifteen-minute break between appointments,” she said in greeting. “Come on back and we’ll talk a bit.”
Wordlessly, he followed her. He studied the swell of her butt even through baggy scrubs. She carried her extra weight in her hips and thighs, and he liked it fine. Her waist was small by comparison, and she had fragile-looking shoulders. She couldn’t be weak, though, if she treated big animals. He’d heard she made farm visits since she was the only vet in the county. She ran what he’d heard the assistant call a mixed practice on the phone.
Inside, her office felt too small, just enough space for her desk and a plastic chair across from it. He tried not to think about the size of the room or the lack of light. It reminded him of the cell, and he refused to go there again, even in his mind.
“First, I’ll tell you what I’m looking for.” Neva described the duties and none of them sounded too tough. He could handle manual labor. “I can afford to give the successful applicant twenty hours a week at minimum wage. That’s four hours, five days a week. No benefits.” She paused. “Before we go on, so as not to waste our time, does this still sound like something you’d be interested in?”
Zeke nodded. About all I’m fit for, too. He tried not to show his despair.
“Then we’ll move on to my usual questions. Why do you want to work here?”
“Need a job.”
She gave a soft, surprised laugh. “People aren’t usually so forthright about it. Most wrap it up in pretty talk about loving animals.”
“Could try that if you want me to.”
“No, that’s fine. But you do like them?” She hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure what he’d think about the next thing. “The job requires some handling help and they sense fear or dislike. It can complicate matters.”
Oh. People probably made fun of her for giving animals that much credit. But she was right. “Yeah. Won’t hamper me.”
“Excellent. I see on your application you worked at the mill for a while. Can I ask why you left?”
“Can.”
“But you won’t
Gemma Halliday, Jennifer Fischetto