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She kept her voice steady and gentle as she approached, slipping her hand into the pocket of her scrubs and discreetly fishing out a small treat. “Hey, Smudge.” She offered it to the skinny dog, who snatched it up and wagged his stubby tail, his whole backside wiggling with delight. “Is it okay if Smudge sits down here by your hip?” she asked, as the old man loosened his grip on the dog. “He’ll still be touching you, but that gives us more room to spoil him while we’re checking you out.”

Gerald kept one shaky hand on the dog as Polly got him settled with the treat. Seemingly satisfied that no one was taking away his companion, he clutched his chest, his fingers digging into the thin fabric of his coat. “It’s burnin’ in here. Feels like the devil’s breathin’ fire on my heart.”

Polly exchanged a quick glance with Dr. Patel, who stood nearby reviewing Gerald’s chart. “Possible reflux,” Patel murmured, “but we can’t rule out a mild cardiac event. We’ll run the usual tests.”

Gerald grunted and gave a dismissive wave with his free hand. “Ain’t no heart attack, Doc. Just that chili I had at the shelter. I know what it is. But I wanted to see my girl Polly. She’s got that calm touch. And this fella here—” he gave Smudge another affectionate scratch behind the ears “—he don’t trust no one but her.”

Polly’s heart clenched at his words, the unexpected affection hitting her in a soft, unguarded place. She supposed that meant Gerald didn’t trust anyone at the hospital but her. She forced a gentle smile and reached for the blood pressure cuff. “I’ll take care of you both. May I take off your coat and roll up your sleeve? Let’s see what’s going on.”

As she worked, Gerald rambled about the Yankee Hill Road shelter where he often ate meals, about ghosts only he could see and about Smudge’s endless wisdom. Each story was a broken puzzle piece revealing the harshness of his life. His words were erratic, sometimes nonsensical, but his fondness for Polly shone through in every ramble, every shaky laugh.

Dr. Patel returned a few minutes later with a printout in hand, nodding to Polly as he stepped beside the gurney.

“Good news, Gerald,” Patel announced. “Your EKG is normal. Your enzymes are fine, and your vitals are steady. No sign of a heart attack.”

Gerald let out a truncated laugh, as if he’d just won a bet. “Told ya! Ain’t nothin’ but that chili fightin’ back.”

Polly pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I’m still going to insist you take it easy today. No more spicy food for a while, okay?”

She wanted to warn him no more alcohol, either. But she knew that Gerald’s unchecked habit had long ago fried parts of his brain and put this gentle man on the streets to begin with. Choosing her battles to keep him from ignoring his health altogether, she slipped on a fresh pair of gloves and leaned in to check his ears, fingers and toes for any signs of frostbite, then did the same for Smudge, gently lifting each small paw and examining the pads. Everything looked pink and healthy.

“No frostbite,” she announced. “That’s another piece of good news. But he needs his nails clipped before they start growing into his pads. My sister would take care of that for you at Mom’s veterinary clinic.” The dog probably needed shots and a thorough health check, too, but she wouldn’t push her luck by overwhelming the elderly man. “Do you remember how to get there?”

He nodded. “Ashley-Bashley. Polly’s mom is the vet, and your sis is a vet tech.”

“That’s right.” She smiled, remembering driving him to her mom’s vet clinic with his previous pet, so her mom and sister could help him for free. “You used to have that gray cat. They fixed her teeth so she wasn’t in any more pain.”

“Cat’s gone. She was old.” He stroked his fingers across the dog’s back. “I have Smudge now.”

“He seems like a good friend.”

Gerald wagged his gnarled finger at her like she was his favorite granddaughter. “You’re a good friend, Polly-girl. Smudge likes you, too.”

High praise, indeed. She smiled as she surreptitiously rubbed his hand clean with an alcohol wipe.

He paused when she reached for the other hand, his eyes going distant, as if listening to something only he could hear. A group of people walked by the hallway door. She heard the voices without being able to make out the actual words. But Gerald turned his hand and squeezed hers, almost painfully.

“Gerald?”

His rheumy gaze swung back to her. “You be careful, Polly-girl. The shadows here talk to each other. Sometimes they say your name when you ain’t listenin’.”

A chill skittered down her back, but she forced a small laugh. Maybe he’d filled in the conversation with his imagination. But it was uncanny that he should say something like that when she’d already been on edge today. “I’ll be careful, Gerald.”

She slipped a small bottle of antacid tablets into his coat pocket along with the last treat in her pocket. “These should help settle that fire in your chest. And this is for Smudge. Don’t get them mixed up,” she teased. “Take the pills as directed—it won’t do you any good to try to sell them.”

Gerald pressed his hand over the pocket and nodded solemnly. “I won’t. You always look out for me.”

Once he was bundled up again, Polly offered her arm, and he took it with surprising steadiness. Together, they left the ER bay and walked down the corridor toward the exit. Smudge trotted at his side, at the end of a homemade rope leash, his tail wagging like he owned the place.

At the automatic doors, a blast of winter air swept in, sharp and bracing. Polly squinted against it, her free hand tightening on Gerald’s elbow.

Gerald pulled his hat down lower on his head. “That wind’ll snap the bones right outta an old man.”

Polly laughed, but her amusement faltered as a sudden shiver crawled up her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. She glanced instinctively over her shoulder. Nothing—just the usual stream of hospital staff, a paramedic rolling an empty gurney back to his ambulance, a maintenance worker mopping a corner. Still, the feeling pricked at her like icy fingertips sliding down her neck.

Gerald leaned in, his pungent smell diverting her attention before he whispered against her ear. “You hear the ghosts, too, don’t ya.”

“What?” She shivered, though whether it was because of the weather or the words, she wasn’t sure. Shaking off the chill, she smiled up at the fragile old man. She was letting her imagination get the better of her. “You have a spot in one of the shelters tonight?”