Bright Moon (2 page)

“You really ought to let me take a look,”
Mark’s voice mildly shocked her from her solitude. He popped the
door open, offering to help her out.
“Thank you, but I’ll get her to a mechanic sooner or later,” she
said as she took his hand.

“Hopefully sooner rather than later,” he
said with a kind smile. Clara smiled as well, nervously tugging at
a loose strand of black hair that fell over her shoulder. He pushed
the door shut again once she stood next to him. He was not the kind
of man to make women swoon, but Clara had found herself admiring
his nice face and wavy, reddish-brown hair. He had a square jaw
line and a short neck that reflected his somewhat stocky build. His
deep brown eyes were sometimes sharp, but showed kindness just
then. “I worry the old thing will have you stranded someplace.”

“The furthest I ever go from home is here
and I could easily walk the distance if I had to.”

“Ever think about getting a bike? I have one
you could borrow if you like.”

They began walking to the employee entrance,
passing the freshly cut lawn and being careful to dodge the little
presents the dogs had left. From inside, the dog’s barks reached
their ears, echoing off the interior cement walls. “Thank you, I
may take you up on that.”

Mark nodded and smiled again before growing
serious as he scanned their surroundings. “Whose turn is it to
clean up the feces?”

“I believe it’s my turn today,” she
answered. “Did you want me to do it first thing?”

“It doesn’t look as if anyone picked up
anything yesterday,” he commented and flipped through his keys to
unlock the heavy metal door.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said with a shake
of her head. “You know how things get busy.”

“It matters,” he said and unlocked the door,
pulling it open for her. “It’s not a very pleasant assignment to
begin with. I’ll check the logs and see whose turn it was
yesterday—they should not have left such a mess.”

Clara felt her cheeks go warm when she
nodded. He waved and disappeared into his office, leaving her to
get a head start on giving the animals their fresh water and
various foods. The number of different kinds of animals there were
boggled her when she first started at the shelter. She was feeding
the rabbits and other rodents when Dynol strode by with a shovel
and scooper in hand. He was a tall, skinny guy and wore his copper
colored hair at a shaggy length. He usually attempted to control
the straying curls with a hat.

“Hey, Clare,” he said. He was a friendly
person and often at least said hello. “Mark caught me slacking,” he
whispered. “I’ve got to clean up the poop before I walk the
dogs.”

“Sorry, Dynol. It’s the worst part of the
job, isn’t it?”

His laid back personality became evident as
he shrugged and his eyes smiled from behind his glinting wire
frames. “I should have paid better attention to the log, I forgot
it was my turn.”

“If it makes you feel better, I can help you
walk the larger breeds,” she offered.

“Sure, thanks!” he said and left the room
through the kennel entrance where the larger dogs resided. A flurry
of barks bombarded her ears before the door swung shut again. Even
with it closed the sound encompassed her.

She finished her work with the gerbils and
dropped a few crickets in for the snake. The slithering creature
had been left by a family who could no longer care for it. Both the
crickets and the snake gave her the creeps. She always slipped the
lid on and off the glass cage as quickly as possible. After she fed
every animal in the building, she went to find a leash. While most
of the dogs welcomed the outing, some were either too hostile or
too frightened to safely escort out. Few were comfortable enough to
let off the lead in the fenced yard to play fetch.

Remembering her promise to Dynol, she
entered the deafening room that housed the kennels with every
intention of walking a larger breed. She inspected the cages as she
passed and stopped short at one that held a small dog. He was a
black, Scottish-Toy Poodle mix. She had not seen him before and had
to check the paper above his gate to learn his name. The tag read
Duke and she smiled. The dog was little, but his chest puffed
proudly. He walked around his cage once when he saw she’d stopped,
prancing happily as if he’d been waiting for her. The little dog
tugged at her heart. Telling herself she’d get to the big dogs
later, she released the latch and slipped the lead over Duke’s
head.

Out in the sun once more, Clara found Maria
playing fetch with three of the medium sized breeds. Duke’s ears
rose in interest and he showed no signs of aggression, so Clara
dared to take him over. He wagged his stumpy tail happily as the
larger dogs rushed to greet him. “Good morning, Maria,” she said.
They watched the dogs become acquainted. Maria was young, only
seventeen, and attended the same high school as Dynol. She had dark
hair and golden bronze skin. She always wore bright colors and had
an electric, happy energy. “Have you met Duke?”

“I have, he seems an excellent candidate for
adoption, don’t you think?”

“I hope so. I hate it when they don’t find a
home.”

“He will, he’s very pretty,” Maria pointed
out, her dark eyes sparkling. She leaned toward Duke and stroked
the silky soft, wavy hair on his ears. Involved with the other
dogs, he scarcely noticed. “Why don’t you adopt him?”

The topic was an ongoing one between them.
Every other person employed at the shelter had adopted at least one
animal, if not more. She laughed in response and shook her head.
“If only I could.”

“Why don’t you try? Your dad wouldn’t say no
if you took Duke home. How could he?”

“Maybe in a few months we’ll be able to have
a dog, but I don’t think now is the right time to bring it up
again.”

“Well, he can’t say
‘no’
forever.”

Clara bit her lip and nodded, holding back
the truth of the matter. Her father would never allow for any kind
of pet, no matter how she begged. Her mother had been severely
allergic to dogs and cats and the subject would only awaken fresh
pain in him, pain that would drag him into the pit of depression
which he struggled to climb from.

“I had better finish with Duke,” she said
and tugged at the leash to pry him from the small pack. A path had
been constructed around the perimeter of the property when the
place was remodeled. It was not a very long path and the chain link
fence surrounded by tall shrubs made for dull scenery, but the dogs
never seemed to mind. She tried to ensure each animal she exercised
went at least four laps around. True to her word, she hurried to
help with the larger breeds after returning Duke. Most of them were
oversized, undertrained, hyperactive puppies that nearly tore her
arm from her socket after she managed to slip the lead over their
heads. Lunch break was upon her by the time she finished.

In the frenzy of the morning, she’d
forgotten to pack the usual peanut butter and jelly and opted for
fast food instead. When she returned to work, she found Mark’s
truck absent from the lot and felt a stab of disappointment. The
time came to clock out and she hated how she missed his friendly
smile and cheerful goodbye to close the day.

Her car miraculously survived the trip home,
but it seemed her day would go from mediocre to worse. Her house
key normally hung on a ring at the lip of her purse. The leather
band that held it in place was completely torn free as if it had
caught on something without her noticing. What was worse, her
father might not return from work for a few hours. A thorough
search of her car produced no key and she was deliberating her
chances of finding it at work when her dad’s car rounded the
corner. His vehicle lurched angrily into the driveway, nearly
colliding with her car.

“You parked too close to the middle again,”
was the first thing he said while stepping out.

“I’m…sorry,” Clara said, trying to bite back
agitation. “Bad day at work?”

“Can’t a man come home and find his parking
space clear? What are you doing out here anyway?”

“Nothing, I was just...looking for my house
keys.”

“Don’t tell me you lost them again?”

She was nervously twisting her hair around
her finger by this time, trying to keep her cool. “My bag tore,”
she said and held up her purse as evidence. “I looked in my car,
but they’re not there. I’ll check work in the morning.”

“Why don’t you keep them on the same ring as
your car key?” The question stung. She had kept the keys separated
in high school when she and Callan shared the car. She’d never
wanted to admit to herself that he might never use it again. “I
hope you find it, I don’t want to pay to change the locks
again.”

“I can pay for it.”

Tim fished a briefcase from his car. Yanking
it out, he slammed the door with enough force to make her jump.
“It’s not about the money, it’s the principle of the matter! Do you
know the hassle changing the locks causes?”

“I’ll find the keys, dad,” she muttered
through her teeth. Instead of looking relieved, Tim sighed and was
about to say something when a truck rumbled around the corner, one
she knew and was surprised to see, especially when it stopped in
front of her house. The driver’s door popped open and Mark stepped
out, coming around the hood to them.

“Hey, Clara,” he said, extending a hand
toward her, the keys dangling from his forefinger. “I think these
are yours, did you lose some keys?”

“Yes!” she breathed and stepped toward him,
taking the keys gratefully. “Thank you so much for finding them!
Where were they?”

“The craziest thing happened! I had to go
back to my office and they were by the break-room door.”

“I didn’t notice they were gone until a
moment ago, thank you again!”

“It wasn’t a problem. You must be Mr. Rita,”
he said, offering a hand to her father.

“And you are?” Tim asked coldly with a
skeptical look at Mark’s hand.

“Dad, this is Mark Crow, my boss.”

“And how does he know where you live?” he
asked. Horrified, Clara sucked in air and held it.

“I actually had to refer to her file. Dynol
said they were most likely yours and I thought you might be locked
out.” Mark’s voice was even and he maintained a thin smile. Tim
looked from Clara to Mark and back.

“I think I understand what’s going on,” he
said in an undertone. “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Dad!” she exclaimed. “We aren’t—”

“Don’t lie to me! You should be ashamed you
lied this long.” Tim turned to Mark, whose face had gone blank.
“How long have you been seeing my daughter?”

Mark held up his hands defensively. “I only
wanted to return the keys.”

“Well, now you have. You would do well to
keep away from my daughter, do we have an understanding?”

“Dad, please don’t do this,” she said and
touched his arm. He shrugged her off.

“Say goodbye to Mr. Crow and I will discuss
this further with you inside.”

While her face came to life with flames of
embarrassment, the corners of Mark’s lips twitched. He chewed his
cheek before speaking. “Mr. Rita, your daughter is a wonderful
girl, but you have this all wrong. I found the keys on the floor at
work. A coworker, Dynol, was there and can tell you just how I
found them as well. Clara and I have not been…
seeing
one
another.”

“Well, I certainly hope not!” Tim said and
turned briskly, stomping toward the house.

“Mark, I’m so sorry,” she whispered before
her father had even stepped inside. Mark watched him with a
frown.

“Is he always so very engaging?”

She laughed shortly, relieved Mark did not
appear as traumatized as she felt.

“Please don’t feel embarrassed. I know he’s
hurting, I’ve heard about your mother.”

“He…has not been the same since she died. I
don’t think he ever will be.”

“It’s a lot of pain to carry,” Mark said
with an understanding nod.

“Thank you for being so thoughtful and
coming all this way.”

“Listen, Clara, I know your dad is going
through a rough time, but I don’t think he remembers you are too.
How are things?” Mark’s sharp brown eyes met hers and she wanted to
share with him how lonely and betrayed she felt. The words faltered
at her mouth.

“Things are bad, but they are what they are.
I get by and, sooner or later, I’ll leave.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yes, hopefully sooner
rather than later. I…” he stroked the stubble of his chin and
glanced to the front door as if in fear of Tim making another
appearance. “I admit the idea of us having a relationship outside
of work is not a new one to me.”

Her heart skipped and her cheeks flamed
anew, a bit more pleasantly this time. “Mark, I—”

“I know, things are rough. Just know I am
here if you ever need someone to talk to, or an excuse to leave
your house.”

“Thank you, really…that means a lot,” she
said quietly.

“Well, I had better get going before your
father lets me have it again.”

“I truly am very sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Remember, if you need anything,
let me know.”

She nodded and he went to his truck. As she
turned toward her house, she thought she heard him chuckling.

The next morning, she woke with nerves
cramping her stomach. She could not decide if she should call in
sick to work or not, but time made the decision for her when she
continually failed to call and leave a message on Mark’s phone. His
truck was not there when she parked her car. Dynol had already
unlocked the employee entrance and was in the back, filing adoption
papers. Luckily, she was alone when she opened her metal locker to
toss her purse in. A folded slip of white paper had been pushed
inside and stood out against the dark grey paint. The smooth paper
made the only sound in the grayscale break room as she unfolded it
to reveal a note scrawled in a quick hand.