Maggy climbed back into the old truck, which she’d left idling, and pushed Millie’s blanket aside. She knew he’d be mad, but not that mad. He’d been angry and frustrated with her more than a few times over the years, but it always seemed to work out — sort of.

She adjusted the heat controls, then crossed her fingers. “Come on, come on…” She waited barely two minutes when the blast of cold air began to warm. The phone rang inside her coat pocket as she backed away from the hangar. Zara, Finally.

“Did you get her?” Maggy asked, holding the phone close. “Are we still a go?”

“Which hangar?” Zara’s voice questioned. “Maggy? Can you hear me?”

Maggy shut off the heater fan. “Hangar Six, near the end of the runway. Viktor will be there.”

“She’s in bad shape,” Zara whispered.

Maggy gasped. “How bad?” Her mind was racing.

“Really bad. She needs a doctor.”

Maggy put the call on speakerphone. Hands free, she shifted gears.

“Maggy? Did you hear me?”

“Yes. I’ll see what I can do. Just get here.”

“See you tonight.” The call ended before Maggy could thank her. Thank her for bringing Clara home. Thank her for the drapes. Thank her for the beaded silk Zara Beale Signature Collection dress that arrived via Fed-Ex this morning with a note that read: “Wear something new for a change. It’s opening night. Love, Z.”

She slowed the truck. She could see far enough to know that she was the only one on the road, swerving in the wet gravel while tapping Garrett’s name on her phone.

“We’re going to need a doctor,” Maggy said, voice wavering. “She’s in bad shape.”

“Clara?” Garrett asked.

“Yes.” She fought back the tears rising inside of her.

“Hospital?” Garrett suggested. 

“No! No hospital.” She switched the heater fan back on. “What about that guy, you know, that guy you play golf with?”

“He’s a veterinarian and a hundred miles from here,” Garrett’s voice did not sound encouraging. “How bad is she?”

“Really bad.” Maggy repeated Zara’s words. “Really bad. Maybe your golf buddy knows a doctor? Someone we can trust?” Silence. “Garrett?”

“I can try,” he said, finally, “but no promises.”

“Be careful.” Maggy noted the time, ending the call before he could hear her voice break into the tears she’d been holding back all day. The old truck rattled over the cattle guards, into a storm that showed no sign of letting up.

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Scene 4 coming soon!

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Copyright 2021 Krystyn Hartman