White Picket Fences

“Okay, gang, let’s all have a seat and figure out who we’ve got and what we’re doing.”

One of the first things she’d learned in life was to pretend she was always in control—even when she’d never felt less in control. Especially then.

SHE HADN’T GOTTEN any worse-looking in the two weeks since he’d seen her, Zack thought as he leashed Sammie and Bear and stood waiting while Randi got the meeting under way. If anything, she looked even more desirable than he’d remembered. With her cropped blond hair, that narrow waist and those firm legs that went on forever outside those indecently tight shorts she’d worn two out of the three times he’d seen her—didn’t the university pay her enough to afford longer pants?—she’d cause any red-blooded guy to take a second look.

There was nothing wrong with looking.

“So, if you’re all comfortable with the time commitment, I need to have you sign here, leave me a phone number and, if you’re living on campus, your dorm. If you’re off campus, put your address here…”

She turned the clipboard she was holding so they could all see the various lines on the form and then passed it, and a pen, to the young man closest to her.

Damn, but she made running shoes seem sexy. Something about the way she moved in them…

Leaning down to Sammie and Bear, one hand on each of them as he scratched behind their ears, Zack shook his head to free himself from distracting thoughts. He was there to do a job. A worthy and necessary job to which he was honestly dedicated.

Finding running shoes sexy was kind of sick.

Sammie licked his cheek just as Zack saw Randi look in his direction, her upper lip curled slightly in distaste. She resumed talking to the students.

“In just a moment I’ll be turning the meeting over to Dr. Zack Foster. He’s a veterinarian here in Shelter Valley. He and his partner are establishing pet-therapy programs similar to this one in universities all over the country, apparently with a great deal of success. I’m sure he’ll tell you some of the stories….”

At least she’d done her homework. Zack was impressed.

He only had to see her on five occasions throughout the semester. And he’d have animals with him every time. He’d be safe.

“Ms. Parsons is right,” Zack began when the floor was his. “My partner, Dr. Cassie Tate, and I have been visiting universities throughout the country. But I’m in charge of this portion of our pet-therapy program.”

Although he refused to actually look at her, he followed Randi’s progress as she moved to the back of the room and perched on one of the desks. Sammie sat beside him, watching the students as though she was in the know. Bear lay down under a desk, his head on his paws.

“Dr. Tate is involved in a very serious aspect of our work. In partnership with psychiatrists across the country, she works on problems with a much bigger scope than we’ll encounter. She and her specially trained animals deal with patients who have emotional disorders and mental illnesses—people who are clinically depressed, bipolar, that type of thing.”

In spite of himself, he glanced up at his partner in this particular venture, wondering if she’d revised her assumption yet that they were all wasting their time in believing animals could help in the treatment of real human distress.

She was studying her shoes, tapping them silently on the chair in front of her. At least she wasn’t asleep. There was a chance she was listening.

Not that her opinion of his work mattered at all.

He and Cassie had met opposition on more than one occasion, but opposition didn’t intimidate him in the slightest. The success of their work spoke for itself.

He returned his attention to the eager faces before him. “We’ll be working strictly with the elderly,” he told them, briefly describing the different homes they’d visit.

Sammie stood, realized she was still on her leash and sat down again.

“Are we going to be working with these dogs?” One of the girls, a short slightly heavy girl with long dark hair, asked.

Zack nodded. “These and others. Sammie’s been a therapist for almost three years now.”

The dog, hearing her name, turned in a circle and barked, her leash getting tangled around one front paw.

Laughter erupted, and Sammie, as if sensing the interest directed at her, barked again.

Randi was still studying her shoes.

“What does he do?” A long-haired young man asked curiously, pointing at Bear.

“Gives people someone to identify with,” Zack said with a smile, although he was absolutely serious.

“He shows them how to grow old without fear.”

A couple of girls in the front row nodded.

“You’ll be working in pairs,” Zack continued. “We’ll have a total of five dogs, one for each pair of you. The dogs have all been through obedience classes and rigorous health screenings. They’re all veteran therapists.”

“Do we get training, too?” A young man with a blond crewcut asked.

Zack shook his head, looking up as his peripheral vision caught movement in the back of the classroom. Randi was doing some kind of stretching thing, her right arm bent and pulled behind her head, her left hand grasping the elbow and pushing it farther.

Her breasts, as firm as everything else about her, were thrown into prominence, garnering a reaction from Zack that he didn’t appreciate. Dammit, why couldn’t the woman just pay attention?

“Uh, no,” he said slowly, forcing himself to focus on the job at hand. “You’re basically escorts. You take the animals into the predetermined rooms and then stand back while the animals do their jobs. There may be times when you need to participate, perhaps talk to the patients, but that would entail no more than casual conversation.”

Randi was looking down again, studying her kneecaps, as far as Zack could tell. He felt a twinge of envy that she could study those legs any time she pleased.

“One visit last semester, we had a woman who refused to take her pills. She wouldn’t let any one of the staff near her. After half an hour with Sammie, she’d relaxed enough to let Sammie’s escort hand her the pills and a cup of water and she took every one of them without complaint.”

“Cool.” The long-haired fellow nodded his head.

“These dogs do a lot of cool things,” Zack said.

“Scientific studies have proved that petting a dog can lower blood pressure. Dogs have been successfully used to alleviate depression. Pets have even been shown to lengthen the life span of their owners.

“For our patients, they often provide comfort and companionship in days that are otherwise relentlessly the same.”

At the back of the room, there was movement again. Randi was now sitting on her hands, and her attention seemed to be moving up. Her gaze was set on the back of the heavy girl’s head.

“We’ve also had success with patients who are struggling with memory deficiencies. In several cases, an individual hasn’t remembered a dog’s escort or his own caregivers’ names, but he’s always remembered the dog’s name.”

After another fifteen minutes, Zack wrapped up his introduction and turned the meeting back to Randi to schedule the dates of their visits. These kids all seemed eager, receptive. But then, they usually were at Montford.

He’d call the nursing homes in the morning to let them know when they’d be coming. And he’d check on the other dogs’ availability, as well. Sammie and Bear were a given, but the other dogs he used had owners whose schedules he had to accommodate.

They were going to have a great semester.

“If we can’t fit in all five visits…”

Amend that. They were going to have a great semester—maybe.

Zack stepped forward, Sammie stood, turned two circles and barked.