The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,52

chuckled. “I’ve been told the Sweetgum grapevine is usually pretty efficient.”

“But you’re a…” Words failed her.

“A veterinarian. Yep.”

He wore a white coat over a professional shirt and tie. His khakis had probably seen better days, but they were neatly pressed. His lace-up shoes were designed for a man who spent most of the day on his feet. Esther certainly couldn’t fault his appearance.

“What seems to be the problem today?” He lifted Ranger onto the small stainless steel top of the examining table. The dog, his nerves in high gear, was visibly shedding.

Esther bit the inside of her cheek. As desperate as she’d been only an hour ago, she now found herself reluctant to lay out the facts.

“That day, by the road, you didn’t tell me who you were.” She couldn’t keep the accusing tone from her voice.

“I hadn’t taken over the practice then, and I knew Ranger wasn’t in serious danger.” He stopped, and a flush rose to his cheeks. That intrigued Esther. The good doctor—or veterinarian, as it were—wasn’t completely imperturbable. “I’m afraid I was in a bit of a hurry.” He stroked Ranger behind the ears. “I never would’ve sent you on your way if I thought this guy was in serious jeopardy.”

“Oh.” Esther wondered what his hurry had been, then just as quickly reminded herself that the new veterinarian’s private life was none of her concern.

“So what are his symptoms?” the vet tried again. The gold flecks in his red hair shimmered under the bright lights in the exam room.

“He keeps digging up my flower beds,” Esther managed to say at last. “And he urinates in the house.” She held up a hand when the vet started to speak. “I take him out frequently during the day and at bedtime. It’s not like he doesn’t get the chance to do his…business in the yard.”

Brody smothered a smile. “Well, he has been through a fair bit of trauma. He may need time to adjust. Those kinds of behaviors are usually triggered by anxiety.”

“What in the world would he have to be anxious about?” Esther had been cooking chicken for his dinner, for heaven’s sake.

“Do you allow him on the furniture?”

Esther shook her head.

“What about the bed?”

She hesitated for just a split second too long before answering. Brody McCullough gave her a knowing look.

“I couldn’t leave him in the kitchen all alone,” Esther protested. “He was miserable.”

“Your mistake was letting him get the best of you.” Brody continued to rub Ranger behind the ears. “Dogs are pack animals. You have to show them that you’re in charge.”

Esther fully grasped the irony of the vet’s admonishment. She, Esther Jackson, had been in charge of almost everything in Sweetgum for years. She couldn’t remember when she hadn’t chaired the spring social at the country club. The garden club had bowed to her will for decades. And even the women’s auxiliary at the church consulted her before making any important decisions. So why was she having such difficulty keeping one medium-size dog in check?

“So what do I do now?” Even though the dratted animal had peed on her best oriental carpet and scratched up her kitchen cabinets demanding a treat, she wasn’t ready to part with him. Truth be told, he provided just the kind of companionship she enjoyed—constant, watchful, and unable to talk back.

“I’d suggest you try some obedience classes.”

“Obedience classes?”

“There’s a man who lives outside of town who offers them on a regular basis. Pam told me about him. I can give you his card.”

Esther had always achieved whatever goal she set for herself through sheer strength of will and determination. She couldn’t imagine she would need anyone’s help to resolve her issues with Ranger.

“Maybe you could just recommend a book?” She was not averse to reading up on the subject. When she had a spare moment.

The vet nodded, but the movement was reluctant. “I can, but I’d really advise you to sign up for the classes.”

“I’ll think about it.” She had no intention of letting anyone else witness her inability to control Ranger. She reached over to reattach his leash.

“Esther?” Brody laid a hand on hers where she held Ranger’s collar. The simple human touch weakened her knees. Not in a romantic way. She was long past that. But other than the occasional hug from her grandson, Esther’s human contact was limited to politely shaking hands while passing the peace at church.

“Yes?” She refused to jerk her hand away, kept it still. But she gripped Ranger’s collar far too