“You were amazing out there,” he said, the words coming from somewhere deep and honest within him.
Lynda smiled, her focus still on the puppy in her arms. “Anyone else would have done the same thing. Besides, I’ve had years of emergency calls in Denver. But I’ve never done a rescue quite like this one.” She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Thank you for letting me come along. Most vets would have insisted on handling it themselves.”
“Most vets haven’t worked with you,” Matt replied simply.
A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the soft whimpers and suckling sounds of the puppies. Outside, the storm continued to rage, but in here, they had created a sanctuary of warmth and safety.
Matt returned the pup he’d fed to the incubator. “They’re going to need round-the-clock care for at least two weeks. We’ll have to feed them every three hours.”
Lynda nodded and looked at him, a small smile playing at her lips. “Once the community hears about the pups, we’ll have morevolunteers to help us. But until then, I don’t think either of us will be getting much sleep.”
“Partners?” he asked, offering her a clean bottle for the next puppy.
Lynda’s smile deepened as she accepted it, their fingers brushing. “Partners,” she agreed.
As the storm raged outside and five tiny lives depended on them inside, Matt felt more certain than he had in years. Whatever happened next—with the puppies, with Sapphire Bay, and with his life—having Lynda beside him made everything better.
And that was something worth holding onto.
CHAPTER 11
Lynda checked her watch and yawned. It was just after one o’clock in the morning. Outside, the storm that had hit Sapphire Bay wasn’t as wild as it had been, but rain still fell heavily against the clinic’s metal roof.
Inside, the clinic hummed with the reassuring sound of the emergency generator. It kept the essential equipment running despite the power outage that had plunged most of the town into darkness.
Lynda carefully cradled the smallest puppy against her chest while recording the animal’s vitals in a notebook. With a white patch on her chest, she’d nicknamed the female pup Star.
All five wolfdog puppies had been cleaned, warmed, and fed, but they still had a long way to go until they were healthy. “Star’s temperature is still a little low,” she murmured, frowning at the thermometer. “It’s better than before, but not where I’d like it to be.”
Matt looked up from the examination table where he was checking another puppy’s gums. “Their glucose levels are improving, at least. The formula seems to be agreeing with them.”
Lynda nodded, gently placing Star back in the incubator they’d set up. She adjusted the warming pad beneath the tiny body, making sure it provided even heat. The puppy curled into a tight ball, its breathing quick but steady.
“They’re all underweight,” she observed, moving to help Matt with his assessment. “I’d guess they weren’t getting enough milk even before their mother died. She might have been injured earlier than we thought.”
“I agree,” Matt said. He handed her a clipboard with the chart he’d been compiling. “I’ve calculated their weights against standard wolfdog development charts. They’re about three weeks old but developmentally closer to two weeks.”
Working together, they reassessed each puppy’s condition, checking for signs of dehydration, testing reflexes, and listening to the little hearts and lungs. All five puppies were still malnourished and suffering from mild hypothermia, but didn’t have any underlying conditions that would prevent them from recovering.
Matt washed his hands, and then dried them on a paper towel. “Until we find more volunteers, it’s just us to look after them. We could take shifts—one of us resting while the other monitors the pups. There’s a cot in my office. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s comfortable enough for a few hours’ sleep.”
“I’ve slept in worse places during emergency calls,” Lynda assured him with a smile. “Remember, I’ve worked at a practice that specialized in large animals. I once spent the night in a barn during a blizzard, helping a horse through a difficult labor.”
Matt smiled back. “I’ve had my share of those nights, too. I can take the first shift.”
A timer beeped, letting them know it was time for another round of feedings.
Lynda stretched. “I’ll help with this meal and then get some sleep.”
“Sounds good to me.” Matt prepared the bottles of special formula while Lynda carefully lifted two puppies out of the incubator.
“I’ll take those two,” Matt said. He settled into a chair holding a puppy in each arm, and expertly positioned the tiny bottles.
Lynda smiled as she lifted another pup out of the incubator. There was something endearing about seeing Matt holding the puppies and coaxing them to feed. As a flash of lightning illuminated the clinic, she sat opposite Matt.
“The generator should hold,” he said, noticing her glance toward the window. “It’s never failed me yet.”
“This reminds me of hurricane season in Florida,” Lynda said as she gently encouraged one of the puppies to suckle. “I spent a year at a wildlife rehab center in the Everglades right after vet school. We’d be up all night during storms, making sure the animals were safe and calm.”
