The Better to Hold You Read Online Free PDF

learned that your husband was going there.”
    Confused, I stroked the sick cat on the table, and a clump of matted fur came away in my hand. “I didn’t realize that you were so interested. I mean—your research is medical, while Hunter’s field is more sociological.”
    “My dear girl, of course I’m interested. Here, hold our patient for a moment.” I put my hand on the dehydrated cat while Malachy turned to the computer on a nearby desk and tapped out a few commands. As he waited for the cat’s X-rays to appear on the screen, Malachy said, “Not interested!” He gave a derisive snort. “Honestly, Ms. Barrow, did you think that my experiments with the lycanthropy virus had no bearing on my selection of interns?”
    I felt as if I’d been slapped. “Are you saying—was that why I was chosen for this group?” I expected him to deny it, but instead, he raised his eyebrows.
    “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Don’t overreact. Ah,” he said, as the cat’s X-rays appeared on the computer screen, “there we go. Okay, kids, take a look and tell me what you notice.” As the others gathered around the screen, Malachy glanced at me sideways. “You’re not going to sulk, now, are you? Obviously, you’re a gifted veterinarian, but so were many applicants. And unlike Ofer here, you have no background in neurology.”
    It was as if he’d figured out all of my secret fears and doubts and confirmed them. Worse still, he had confirmed them in a tone of voice so casual it implied that I, like everyone around me, should have been aware of my limited potential. I was the diligent, wonky grind, not the natural talent.
    No you’re not, said a stubborn little voice inside me. You have talent and drive. Don’t let him define you. He’s British upper class. They excel at only two things: gardening and disdain.
    “I graduated near the top of my class at Tufts,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest. Nobody was paying any attention to the X-ray, or to the cat, who was seizing this opportunity to attempt to slide off the table. Holding him gently by the scruff, I went on. “My recommendations were glowing. If the only reason why you took me on was because of my husband’s research, how do you explain your justification for choosing Lilliana? She’s not even a veterinarian.”
    Lilliana had been plucked from the Institute’s social work externship program, which had struck Sam, Ofer, and myself as more than a little peculiar. As far as we were concerned, the social workers were around to keep our patients’ owners from asking us questions that really had no answers, and to help them work through their confusion and grief. They weren’t supposed to be a part of the medical team, or to be included in our decision-making pro cess. Mad Mal was known for thinking outside the box, of course, but privately I had wondered whether he had chosen Lilliana just for the sake of doing something unexpected.
    Still, the moment the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. Lilliana was brilliant, and my friend. The truth was, she had helped us make good decisions—she was extremely adept at anticipating an owner’s reaction and helping us frame our responses accordingly. But I had to know if all my pride in being on Malachy’s team was misguided.
    “Ms. Jones has a degree in social neuroscience, as well as complete fluency in the facial action coding system. In addition,” Malachy said, with a slightly wry expression, “I recall her making a very persuasive argument while I was feeling distinctly under the weather.”
    “You said something about my counterbalancing your lack of people skills,” said Lilliana, including me in her smile.
    Malachy rubbed his chin, considering. “Entirely plausible. And, of course, you’re an aesthetically pleasing individual. That may have unconsciously factored into my decision.” Lilliana had once volunteered that she had a Russian mother and an Ethiopian father. I had no idea what her parents