📖 Part 10: Healing Hands
The morning was warm, soft with spring.
Clara stood by the front window of the clinic, watching the breeze rustle the lilac bushes Daniel had planted years ago. The porch light was still on. Not because she was waiting — but because she would always be ready.
The bell above the door jingled softly.
She turned.
A woman stood there, no more than thirty, her eyes wide with fear. In her arms was a trembling dachshund wrapped in a beach towel.
“He’s choking,” the woman whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”
Clara didn’t hesitate.
She dropped the dish towel, pulled on her coat, and knelt down, voice steady.
“Set him here. You’re safe now.”
Her hands moved on instinct — practiced, certain, kind.
The dog gagged, kicked, then coughed.
And then… he breathed.
The woman burst into tears.
Clara smiled and rubbed the little dog’s back. “There you go, buddy. No drama, just air.”
Later, once the woman left with a string of thank-yous trailing behind her, Clara stepped into the back room.
She sat down. Stared at the old flannel blanket folded on the shelf. Shadow’s blanket.
She took it in her lap, pressed it to her chest.
And whispered, “We’re still doing it, boy. One breath at a time.”
That evening, Clara walked to the red maple.
The kitten — now named Maple — followed at her heels like a shadow of her own.
Clara knelt and placed a small wooden marker beside the tree. She’d carved it herself:
Shadow –
He waited.
He healed.
He stayed.
The breeze moved gently through the branches. Red leaves whispered overhead like voices not quite lost.
On the way back to the house, she paused on the porch.
Looked out at the field. The trees. The fading light.
And for a second, just a second —
She swore she saw him.
Not clearly. Not like a ghost.
Just the shape of a black dog at the tree line, tail high, ears up, looking back toward her like he was checking in.
She smiled.
And whispered into the dusk:
“Go on, then. I’ll be fine.”
The porch light flickered on as the sky turned dark.
Clara turned the sign on the door to OPEN.
And left it that way.
For good.