I handed the towel to Taylor and picked up the blanket and towels, carrying them down the hall to the washing machine. Hopefully, Violet wouldn’t mind if her new bedding didn’t smell like her former owner. When I returned to the bedroom, Taylor had finished cleaning Violet and was putting fresh bedding in the playpen.
“Violet, do you want to go outside?” I asked. “Outside?” I repeated, since that seemed to be the word she recognized.
She gave me a quick tail wag before following me down the hall. I clipped on her leash and brought her out back. She whined as she peed, and I winced in sympathy. She had to be sore, but she seemed to be doing well, all things considered. Animals were so resilient.
“Want supper?” I asked when we were back inside, picking up her food bowl for emphasis.
She wagged her tail, watching expectantly.
“Only give her a small meal,” Taylor called from the bedroom. “You can give her another small meal in a few hours or when you wake up in the morning.”
“Got it.” I mixed together her dry kibble with some canned puppy food and then put a few pieces of roasted chicken on top. When I set the bowl on the floor, Violet dug in enthusiastically.
She ate her dinner and had a big drink of water before going down the hall to check on her babies. Taylor got her settled in the playpen with them, and Violet licked them while they squirmed and squealed as they crawled over each other to find a spot to nurse.
“You’ll need to bring them all in to see the vet tomorrow,” Taylor told me. “They just need a quick checkup to make sure everyone’s doing well.”
“At the shelter?” I asked.
“We don’t have a full-time vet, but we have one we work with. She should be able to fit you in if you give her a call first thing.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“Just tell her you’re fostering for us. She’s got our payment information on file, so it won’t cost you anything. I’ll text you her info.”
“Are you leaving?” I squeezed my hands together, glancing at the clock. It was almost midnight. Wow. The whole evening had gone by without me realizing it.
“I don’t think there’s anything else I can do here tonight,” she told me. “You just need to watch Violet for any sign of complications.” Taylor rattled off a long list of things that would require an emergency call to the vet, each one sounding more alarming than the last. “And you should keep taking her temperature daily. If she spikes a fever, it could indicate that she has an infection.”
“Do you have a checklist you can send me?” I asked, because this felt overwhelming, and my brain was whirling trying to keep track. I liked numbers and lists, items I could check off once I’d completed them.
Taylor nodded. “I’ve got several resources and links I can send you.”
“Thank you.”
“And feel free to call me anytime with questions.” She stood and headed toward the living room.
I followed, my stomach squirming with discomfort. I wasn’t ready to be left alone with the puppies. What if something went wrong? What if the little one stopped breathing again? What if a surprise fifth puppy arrived? And I really felt like we should address that kiss before she left, but I had no idea what to say, and clearly Taylor didn’t want to talk about it.
With a wave, she grabbed her bag and went out the front door.
I walked down the hall to check on Violet. She was stretched out flat on her side, fast asleep with the puppies snuggled against her belly. Well, at least they were relaxed. I only wished I could say the same. I changed into my pajamas and went into the bathroom to wash up for bed. I should at least try to get some sleep, although I was sure I was going to be up all night watching and worrying over the puppies.
I had just climbed into bed when I heard tires crunching over gravel and saw the sweep of headlights through the window. Who was at my house at this time of night? If this were anywhere but Vermont, I might have been worried. The car door opened, and a woman got out. A shaft of light from my bedroom window washed over her face.
It was Taylor.
16
Taylor
The front door opened to reveal Phoebe silhouetted in the doorway, giving me a puzzled look. She wore striped sleep shorts and a thin tank top, her hair loose over her shoulders, and my brain short-circuited at the sight.
“Taylor? What are you doing back here?” she asked as she beckoned me inside.
“I, um, I forgot my phone.” I stepped past her, trying not to notice the way her nipples poked against the fabric of her tank top or the damp glow on her face, suggesting she’d just washed it.
“Oh, okay.”
