Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

dropped the stethoscope earpieces around his neck. “Sounds good. Her lungs are clear, her heart’s strong, respirations normal.”
    “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
    “Anytime.” He was smiling, but his eyes were reflective, considering, as if he had something to say and was weighing his words.
    Carl had left the room, I realized. “Well, good luck with the cat.” I closed Maude’s cage and started for the door.
    “Rachel?” he said. “Could you stay a second?” 
    Reluctantly, I faced him again. Yes, he’s going to have a little talk with me.
    He raked back his sandy blond hair, then jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. His eyes met mine briefly before sliding away. “I’ve got a little free time and I was wondering if, uh, you’d like to walk over to that coffee place with me.” He gave a short laugh. “I’ve never had a café latte, or whatever it’s called. I’d like to expand my experience.”
    I was flummoxed. He wanted to go to Starbucks? And why was he suddenly acting like an awkward boy? It dawned on me that he wasn’t looking forward to our talk, and he wanted to get me on neutral ground for it. Resigned, I said, “Sure.” I glanced at my watch. “But I’ve got a patient in—”
    “Forty-five minutes. I checked your schedule.”
    I was too surprised to say anything but, “Oh.”
    We walked around the corner, under flowering crab apple trees, on a sidewalk dotted white with fallen blossoms. He moved with a long-legged lope, hands in his pockets. He’d pulled on a denim jacket over his faded blue shirt. It occurred to me I’d never seen him in one of the white lab coats the other vets wore.
    He asked, startling me, “Why does everybody get so dressed up for work?”
    I’d have to remember that he could read minds. “Old habits. Dr. McCutcheon was fussy about the staff’s appearance. Ties for the men, no jeans, but he did let the women wear slacks. Lab coats for the doctors, always.”
    He pulled a face as if he’d been caught at something. “I must look like a fish out of water.”
    “Dr. Campbell, you own the place now. You can come to work in a dress if you want to.”
    He laughed, a warm deep laugh, and I had to smile at the image I’d called up.
    “I can promise I’ll never show up in a dress, but I don’t think you’ll see me in a tie either. And call me Luke, okay?”
    “Oh, sorry. Sure.”
    This was all very friendly so far.
    Starbucks, a tan stucco building with green trim and awnings, was on Chain Bridge Road next to a 7-Eleven and across from an auto tire store. Despite the poverty of the view, two couples drinking coffee at sidewalk tables seemed to be enjoying the bright brisk day. A dark-haired young man raised his face to the sunshine with that goofy can-you-believe-winter’s-over expression people get in spring. Inside, half a dozen customers stood in line at the service counter.
    Although I’d eaten my sandwich lunch less than an hour before, my mouth watered when I breathed in the aromas of coffee, nuts, mint, chocolate. Luke’s face took on a comically bewildered expression as he studied the list of coffees posted behind the service counter. “Mocha, mocha almond, hazelnut,” he read aloud. “Whew. I’m just a country boy. I’m dazzled.”
    I smiled. “Dazzled by coffee. You’ve led a sheltered life.”
    “You choose for me,” he said. “I trust you.”
    “Okay, let’s keep it basic.”
    I ordered two short lattes, wondering if all this geniality was supposed to make me more receptive to criticism. I decided to beat him to it. As soon as we sat down with our coffee at one of the little round tables, I said, “If this is about my behavior yesterday, I’d like to apologize. You don’t have to tell me it was pretty strange—”
    “Good God,” he said, sitting back. “Did you think I brought you over here to talk about that? It’s the last thing on my mind. Forget it.”
    “Oh.” What were we doing here then, drinking coffee at Starbucks in the middle of the work day?
    He wasn’t ready to tell me. He said, “I think Dr. McCutcheon might come storming back from Florida and kick me out in the street if he heard I wasn’t being nice to you. You’re pretty special to him.”
    “Dr. Mac’s taught me a lot. He let me start working at the clinic as an aide part-time when I was sixteen.”
    Luke nodded, but seemed distracted. I wished he’d get on with it, whatever it was.
    Instead, he asked, “Have you heard from him since