Page 5 of Curious Hearts (The Healing Hearts #2)
CHAPTER FIVE
Waffle’s stumpy tail thumped against the hospital floor as children gathered around him. Ali watched from the doorway of the pediatric playroom, clipboard in hand, as the three-legged golden retriever basked in the attention.
“He looks happier here than at your house,” Fenna said, sidling up beside Ali in blue scrubs, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun.
“That’s because these kids actually play with him. I just use him as a therapist and feed him table scraps.”
Fenna, her friend and resident pediatric surgeon, laughed. “Self-awareness is the first step to recovery.”
“If only,” Ali murmured, checking her watch. Twenty minutes until she needed to head to her next appointment—her third session with Jessica Taylor this week.
“You’re fidgeting again,” Fenna noted, sharp eyes missing nothing. “Spill it.”
“What?”
“You’ve checked your watch three times in five minutes, your hair is actually brushed, and—” Fenna leaned closer, sniffing dramatically, “—is that actual perfume instead of eau de wet dog?”
Ali felt heat crawl up her neck. “I have another client after this.”
“Mmm.” Fenna’s skeptical hum grated on Ali’s nerves. “The same client you’ve been seeing every other day? The one that has meant you were too busy to come for dinner this week?”
“Jessica’s having trouble with Mr. Darcy marking territory, though she’s making progress with the others.
You should have seen her yesterday—she created a spreadsheet tracking each cat’s preferences and behaviors.
” Ali couldn’t help smiling. “Color-coded by cat, with a separate tab for medication schedules.”
Fenna chuckled. “So she won’t be needing you as much?”
“Eventually, but right now she’s still adjusting.
You should have seen her with the feeding routine the first day.
I mean, she’s better now but it’s still like watching a bomb technician at work.
She puts on these yellow rubber gloves for wet food like she’s handling nuclear waste.
” Ali shook her head. “Last week, Ernest knocked over an entire bag of kibble when she was on a call with Tokyo. You should have seen her face—total panic. But then she just muted herself, took three deep breaths, and started cleaning it up.”
“So she’s adapting?”
“Slowly. Last week she called Mr. Darcy ‘an agent of chaos’ and Ernest ‘methodically destructive.’ It was the first time I heard her describe them as individuals rather than furry terrorists. It’s slow progress. I just wish she’d relax with them. Stop trying to control every interaction.”
Fenna bumped Ali’s shoulder. “And with you?”
“Eh?”
“Come on. You should see the way your eyes light up when you talk about her, Ali.” Fenna’s eyes twinkled. “Anyone would think Vivian knew exactly what she was doing.”
“It’s not like that. I’m just helping her and the cats adjust to life together.”
A burst of laughter drew their attention to Waffle, now rolling over for belly rubs from a small girl in a wheelchair. The sight momentarily softened Ali’s defensive posture.
“Okay, whatever.” Fenna crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the counter at the nurses’ station. “Have you submitted the grant application?” Fenna asked.
“All submitted. Now I just have to wait. It’s another two or three months before we hear if it’ll be successful, and I’m trying not to think about what we’ll do if we aren’t successful.
The Foundation won’t survive without the grant funds and I’m out of savings.
” She shrugged. “But there’s no point in worrying about what I can’t control, right? ”
The grant from the Colorado Children’s Wellness Initiative represented Ali’s best hope for keeping the Healing Paws program running.
Three years of successful therapy sessions had built enough credibility for this shot at sustainable funding, but the competition was fierce, with dozens of programs vying for limited resources.
“Have you heard anything from Dr. Monahan?” Fenna asked, lowering her voice. As the hospital board’s newest member, Monahan had a reputation for favoring traditional medical approaches over complementary therapies like Ali’s.
“Radio silence,” Ali sighed. “I know he’s skeptical about animal therapy, but the data speaks for itself. Recovery times drop by eleven percent when our animals are integrated into pediatric care.”
“Vivian’s donation last year carried quite a weight with the board,” Fenna pointed out.
“Exactly, and I won’t have that this time around.
” She paused and shook her head, her eyes focusing on a loose bit of rubber on her sneakers.
“It’s just... this isn’t just about the hospital sessions.
If the grant doesn’t come through, the entire foundation is at risk.
Margo’s great and she’s already said if we don’t get the money, she’d be willing to cut her hours, but I can’t ask everyone else to do the same. ”
“What about taking on more private clients? Like Jessica Taylor?”
“Not enough to sustain operations. Most clients can’t afford Vivian-level fees. And the funds from the estate will only cover us for a couple of months, three at the most.” Ali ran a hand through her hair, disturbing the brushing she’d done earlier.
“Well, we can sit down together and work on the presentation when they give you a date. We’ll need to be armed with your most impressive statistics.”
“‘We’ll’?” Ali asked.
“Yeah, surely you don’t think I’m going to let you walk into that alone?
Besides, I’m not letting anyone remove the therapy program without a fight.
” Fenna checked her pager as it beeped. “I’ve got to run.
Surgery in twenty. But this conversation isn’t over.
” She gave Ali a quick hug and headed off, leaving Ali watching Waffle roll over, delighting the little girl who clapped her hands in glee.