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“Are you still there?” Van finally said. “You’ll come? Great. Joe, my man, you have my undying gratitude. Have you got a pen? Here’s the address … ”
“Let me get this straight,” Mary said. “You just said a few words to a top obstetrician and persuaded him to deliver Guinevere’s babies.”
“They’re Lancelot’s too. He likes Lancelot.”Mary shook her head in disbelief.
Five minutes later, she heard a car pull up. She opened her door.
“Where’s my patient?”
Mary caught a fleeting impression of a greying man with a big belly, a no-nonsense face and hands as big as pizzas. An infant could get lost in those hands.
“This way.” Van stood by the closed door from the houseintothegaragemakingscoopingmotionswith his arm.
“Not yet. Where can I wash up? And if you’d heat some water for us — ”
Mary ushered Joe Weebler toward the kitchen. As she passed the closed door into the garage, Lancelot whined and scratched at the other side to tell his humans he wanted to get into the house.
“Van, check on Lancelot, will you?”
“Lancelot. Yeah. Sure. And Guinevere. Have to make sure Guinevere is okay.” Van’s voice rose. “What if she isn’t? Maybe Lancelot is trying to tell us something is wrong.”
Mary stopped long enough to turn Van around physically and nudge him toward the door into the garage.
“Yeah. Okay. Lancelot. Guinevere. I’ll look in on them.”
He finally strode toward the door and opened it. A brown and white streak, way low to the ground, flashed past Van’s feet and raced for the back door. “Lancelot! Wait!” Van stood, wavering with indecision for a moment, before he turned back to go into the garage rather than follow Lancelot. In seconds, Van called out in shock. “She isn’t here! Guinevere isn’t here!”
“How did she get out?”
“That door’s open half the time.”
Marydashedtohisside.“FollowLancelot.Heprobably knows where she is.” She nudged Van again, this time in the direction of the blur of motion that had been Lancelot. “Quick! He’s going so fast he’s liable to trip on his own ears! Try to slow him down, then let him lead you to Guinevere. Safely. I’ll turn on the floor heating in Guinevere’s box and spread out the diapers and towels.”
Joe Weebler poked his head around the door into the garage. He pulled back barely in time to dodge Van racing after Lancelot. Joe looked in again, more cautiously this time. He spotted the whelping box and whistled in admiration. “Holy Toledo,” he said. “Wheredidyougetthatmarvelousthing?Iwantone. We’re breeding our Teacup Yorkie.”
“It’s one of a kind,” Mary said. “Van made it.”
“Who’d have guessed he’s an artist with wood?” Joe walked over and leaned down to stroke one of the carvings.
“He is, isn’t he? He did this like he was under some kind of compulsion, but he says it’s just doodling.”
The carving Joe was caressing was Mary’s favorite too, if it was possible to have one when she loved them all. With a deceptively simple few lines in the wood, Van had suggested the cutest Saint Basset puppy Mary had ever seen.
“Your hands — ”
“I can wash up again after I’ve given these beauties their due,” Joe answered. “I don’t know what I was thinking, anyway. It’s way too soon to worry aboutsanitizingmyhands.I’lladmitI’malittleoffmy game. I’ve never had a four-legged bitch as a patient before, and I’ve never been called to a bedside in a garage before. These carvings feel amazing, don’t they? As much like silk as they look. I didn’t know wood could be like this. Guess what the bet will be the next time we play golf? I want one of these babies, and I’d lie, cheat or steal to get one.”
“I’m not sure how he’d feel about doing another,” Mary said. “This one just sort of happened, just sort of grew. It isn’t exactly the kind of artistic endeavor he had in mind for when he gets rid of the company and sets up his studio.”
“Oh. Then I’ll guilt him into giving me this one as the price of being here tonight.”
Van all but skidded through the doorway into the garage.“She’sinherdoghouseoutback.Getamove on,” he shouted at the doctor. “You have to make sure she’s okay. But Lancelot’s in that doghouse too. I don’t know how he could have squeezed in there. I don’t know how we will do this. There’s no room for us to get in to help her.”
“We’ll get her out,” Mary said.
“We can’t,” Van moaned. “All the experts I’ve read say we can’t move her if she’s in labor. She might come out of labor, and then she’ll have a tougher time with the puppies. Do you know what she’s already going through?” His voice was rising steadily, and the words were getting ragged. “She’s — ”
“That’s enough, my friend. Breathe. Breathe.” Joe turned to Mary. “Who knew he should have gone to Lamaze class to learn how to calm himself down and help his … ”
