Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

that’s the main thing. You were a hell of a lot nicer to him than I would’ve been.” He stroked the bat’s head with his index finger. The animal’s eyes were squeezed shut against the glaring overhead light.
    Alison’s high clear voice came over the intercom. “Dr. Campbell, your first appointment is here. Dr. Goddard, your first appointment just drove into the parking lot.”
    He opened the door to leave, casually throwing his words back over his shoulder as he went. “Let’s find some time to sit down together later. I want to talk over something with you.”
    The little breeze my sigh created made the bat flex her big ears and open her dark eyes. “You know what he wants to talk about, don’t you?” I said. She closed her eyes again.
    I turned the bat over to a technician with instructions to feed her meal worms and water, then find a rehabber who could take her back to Herndon and release her that night.
    So the day began, with an animal saved and a seed of worry planted.
    That morning, for the first time I could remember, I’d dreaded coming to work. All through a restless night I was plagued by dreams, some old and familiar, others new and brought on by my encounter with the Coleman child. Morning sunshine couldn’t dispel the dark images. I was afraid they’d stay with me and I’d be fighting all day to keep my mind anchored in the here-and-now. I was sure everybody I worked with was still wondering what had come over me, clinging to a little girl, scaring her with my tight grip and hysterical cries.
    But as I worked through the hours, the dreams faded to the back of my mind, I settled into routine and camaraderie, and I felt a little foolish for expecting my co-workers to dwell on my behavior.
    Only Lucas Campbell gave any sign of remembering that I’d come unhinged in the middle of the reception area the day before.
    In and out of exam rooms, passing through the corridors, returning charts to the front desk, I ran into him everywhere, and he caught my eye each time. His look was speculative, and I didn’t want to consider what it meant. 
    The hospital room reeked of disinfectant when I went in to see Maude in mid-afternoon. Carl, on his knees cleaning one of the lower dog cages, smiled up at me and said, “The little hound dog’s surgery went off real well, I heard.”
    Dr. Campbell stood at the far end of the room, leaning into a cage, his stethoscope on the chest of a big orange tabby cat. If I’d known he was there I would have checked on Maude later.
    “Yes,” I said, turning my attention back to Carl. “I’m so glad she’s okay. She’s one of my favorites.”
    “Hey, now, Dr. Rachel, you’re not supposed to have favorites.” Carl hauled himself to his feet, wet rags in his hands.
    I laughed. “Don’t tell anybody.”
    Luke Campbell was closing the cat’s cage.
    I unlatched the door of Maude’s cage and swung it open. She lay motionless on her nest of blankets, her eyes closed. A thick bandage encased her fractured leg. Earlier that day Tony Bonelli had installed a permanent plate to support the damaged bone, and Maude was still groggy from the anesthesia and painkiller.
    “Hi, Maude, it’s me,” I whispered, stroking her ear. Most of the blood had been cleaned off, but I felt tiny bumps of it, hard and dry, under the hair.
    Her eyes half-opened. Slowly the white tip of her tail lifted in salute then dropped again.
    “Ah, sweet girl,” I said. Behind me I heard Dr. Campbell’s footfalls, rubber soles on vinyl tile, coming closer. Why hadn’t I turned around and left when I saw him in here? “You’re going to be fine.”
    “She’s got a good attitude,” Dr. Campbell said. He’d come up on my right.
    “Yeah,” I said. “She’s a plucky little pooch. How’s the cat?”
    “Better than I thought she’d be at this point. She came in this morning in bad shape. Pulmonary edema.”
    I motioned at Maude. “Would you mind having a listen? I was about to check her over, but since I’ve got a cardiologist right here I might as well make use of you.”
    He laughed. “Sure.”
    I moved aside, and he leaned over Maude, murmuring reassuringly when she stirred. With one hand he positioned the stethoscope bell on her chest; with the other he stroked her muzzle. His rolled-up sleeves exposed the ropy muscles of his forearms. I watched his eyes lose focus and his face go still as he concentrated on Maude’s heartbeat throbbing in his ears.
    He straightened and