Patricia Davids - The Color Of Courage

“Jennifer, will you put Isabella in her outside cage, please?”

“Of course. What did you do to get banished from Dr. Cutter’s desk this time?” she asked the rabbit as she took her from Brian.

“The usual,” he answered.

“Ah, pencil nibbling, were we?” She, too, scratched the bunny behind the ears.

“I can’t break her of the habit.”

“You could try switching to pens.”

“I like pencils. They let me change my mind as often as I need to.”

“So does the delete key on your computer.”

“It isn’t the same.”

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer headed for the outside door and said, “Therein lies your problem, Doctor. You have to learn to say what you mean the first time.”

Brian turned back to his office. He knew how to say what he meant, but he was often accused of being too gruff. Whenever he needed to draft a letter or a grant application, he worked and reworked the words until they seemed soft and polite enough. Pencils worked best for the task. After he had the tone he wanted, he typed his work into his computer. Some might say he was making twice the work for himself, but he still preferred his tried-and-true method.

Certainly, his upcoming lecture on pastern arthrodesis for the Equine Surgical Conference in January was no exception. It was an honor to be asked to speak and he wanted his address to be perfect. He intended to rework it until he was completely satisfied. Fortunately, the college bookstore had an excellent supply of the large yellow legal pads he liked best.

Back at his desk, he put aside his work on his presentation for the moment and opened the file on Dakota. The gelding wasn’t doing as well as he had hoped. The surgery itself had gone well, but the big horse seemed to be having more pain instead of less. That wasn’t encouraging. A knock at his door caused him to look up. Jennifer stood in the doorway minus the rabbit.

She motioned toward the folder he held. “Is that the file on the army horse? I was wondering how he was getting along.”

“I’m not happy with his progress. Even with the medication he’s getting, his respiratory rate and pulse rate are higher than they should be. The staff has been reporting that he’s restless and he isn’t eating well.”

“None of those are good signs.”

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth, but he held it back. “So you have been paying attention in class. Will wonders never cease?”

She blushed and looked chagrined. “Is there anything else you need, Doctor? If not, I’m going to take off.”

He hadn’t meant to offend her, but before he could form the right words to apologize, she was out the door.

Of all the females he had known in his life, only Isabella never seemed to care what tone he chose or how gruff his words sounded. If only more women had her tolerance, his life would be a lot easier.

Before he had a chance to dwell on the current poor state of his interpersonal skills, Jennifer opened the door again. “Doctor, Sergeant Mandel is here to see you.”

The sudden rush of pleasure he felt at hearing her name unnerved him. He tried unsuccessfully to stifle his excitement.

“Show her in.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

She nodded but before she could close the door, he said, “Jennifer, I was teasing earlier when I made that remark about you paying attention in class.”

“You were?”

“Of course. I think you have an excellent future in the surgical field.”

She looked doubtful. “You do?”

“I do.”

She flipped her long blond hair back over one shoulder. “Wow! Okay, but next time you’re kidding someone, Doc, you should smile.”

“I’ll certainly try to do so.”

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