Genesis: A Harte's Peak Prequel (13 page)

Once Lexi was grown, maybe Maggie would join one of those Christian singles matchmaking services on the Internet. But the whole thing sounded so silly and contrived.

Apparently, her pillow was the hardest one on the market since another fluff was not doing any good. Maggie adjusted the covers a dozen times and pounded her pillow into submission several more, but sleep wouldn't come tonight. A strange occurrence for someone who had spent the past several months enjoying the escape that sleep had provided.

But today she'd been reminded that Richard Bradshaw would not give up on seeing his granddaughter again, and he'd be ready to pull out all the stops with offers of trips and all the things that would turn a young girl's head. And he had the money to do it.

Maggie pulled out her mother's Bible with the worn cover and dog-eared pages, and turned to one of the many underlined passages in Romans. Her mother's favorite, a passage she'd highlighted and underlined, Romans 8:28.
All things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purposes.

Maggie's heart lifted. It didn't matter where or what she read, the word of God calmed her and gave her peace. More than ever, she realized she had to stop distrusting Richard and start trusting God. She needed that strength now, and it wouldn't come from her own nature.

Some warm milk might help her sleep. It was two o'clock in the morning when she ambled into the kitchen and noticed a faint light coming from the front of her house. Curious, she tiptoed to the drawn shade, and lifted the edge with her finger just enough to peek outside.

Apparently, someone else couldn't sleep. Hunkered under the hood of her car stood a decidedly male figure. She could see the muscles that strained against the gray t-shirt, the long, jean-clad legs in a purposeful stance. Jack Butler, holding a large flashlight with one hand, and Chief sitting on the edge of the sidewalk as still and attentive as any guard dog.

Would wonders never cease?

 

****

 

“Don't start thinking this is permanent, because it's not,” Jack said the next morning and then shook his head. Great, so now he was talking to a dog. Is that what he had come to?

Despite knowing better, it did seem to Jack that Chief understood him loud and clear. Otherwise, why would he hang his head and give him that dog-stuck-in-a-shelter look?

Thanks to Lexi, Chief now looked like a pet again, and it became clear to Jack he was definitely a Shepherd mix, one who had been at least partially trained by someone. He had a clear understanding of simple commands and had quickly learned a new one. “Off” had come in handy when he'd jumped on Jack's bed assuming all the warm and cozy covers were for him. Wrong.

Chief definitely had attachment problems because he'd whined last night when Jack had stepped outside to take a look under Maggie's hood. He'd thought he might as well get something done when sleep wouldn't come yet again, and Maggie had left the truck unlocked. He'd need to talk to her about that later.

Chief had seemed duty bound to come with him though all he did was sit at the curb. Then again, he probably feared losing his meal ticket again. Since Jack didn't have any dog food, he had cut up a few pieces of a leftover steak and fed it to him.

Which, come to think of it, might not be the best way to get rid of a dog.

Now, Jack opened the front door for Chief to follow. He did, as if going to work with his owner was the norm. Jack opened the passenger side door of his truck. “I'm not an ogre, so you can sit inside now that you don't smell like a dumpster.”

The dog leapt inside and sat human-like in the front seat, his body straight, his head regal. He sat in the same position the entire drive to the Sheriff's station.
What a weird dog.

At the station, Chief walked to Jack's desk.

“What do we have here?” Calhoun walked up to the dog and gave him a pat on the head.

Chief returned the gesture by licking his hand.

“Your new mascot?” Jack asked. “Mrs. Jones brought him in yesterday when you were gone and insisted that we find him a home.”

“Old Mrs. Jones.” Calhoun rolled his eyes. “Thinking that Harte's Peak's finest have the answer to everything that goes wrong.”

“He smelled like he'd been dumpster diving yesterday, but Lexi washed him.”

“So you've got a dog,” Calhoun stated.

Had all of the oxygen left the room again? “I do not have a dog. If anything, the station has a mascot. I can't have a dog.”

“Hate to break it to you, Jack, but if you don't claim that dog, it appears he certainly claims you.”

Jack glanced at Chief, who now panted in his direction almost as if he'd understood Calhoun's words.

“Yeah. Here's the problem. I can't have a dog. I only brought him home to clean him up and bring him back here. You can figure out what to do with him.” Jack took a seat at his desk, causing Chief to get up, move a few paces closer and sit by his feet again. Uncanny.

“This is one smart dog. I'll talk to your landlady. My sister will probably allow for special dispensation for the dog of one of my men.” Calhoun's sister happened to be Jack's landlady, and at the time of the month-to-month agreement, the fact had been rather convenient for him, but now it appeared as though the tables had turned.

“I shouldn't ask for any special treatment. Word gets around. People talk. Carol should treat me like any other tenant.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Chief.

“Nonsense. You can bring him to work with you, that way there won't be any worry about what he'd do to the place while you're gone. Unless, of course, there's a certain young teen who would be willing to dog sit.”

That teen wasn't getting in his house again without someone around to watch her every move. “Fine. I'll keep him until we find his owner. A dog like this has obviously been trained. Maybe his owners are on vacation, and they don't even know he's gone.”

“Right. You do that. Until then, I'd say you have yourself a buddy.”

 

****

 

Almost two weeks later, no one had claimed Chief, and the posters Jack had paid Lexi five dollars to put up around town had begun to fade.

Maggie hoped that the owners would not be found quite yet, even if the thought was selfish. Surely, she couldn't be blamed for loving the grin on her daughter's face every afternoon as she walked Chief around the neighborhood, took great pride in his grooming, and looked forward to the nights Jack worked the night shift, and she could bring the dog over for an overnighter.

Helping her good-looking neighbor was the least she could do even if he did have a perpetually crinkly forehead, as if always deep in thought about the trials of the world. Somewhere along the line she'd become addicted to the softening of the planes of his face when she said, “Yes, of course, we'll keep Chief for the night.”

But she wished she knew Jack Butler's story, because it looked as though it might be intriguing. Here was a striking man who spent all his time at work or helping her. He'd singlehandedly fixed her car in the early morning hours. He never had a woman around, and someone who looked like he did often had more than one.

And then there was the furniture issue. She understood the first time she'd visited him that he'd only just moved in, and there'd been one stool in the kitchen. No table, no sofa. Two weeks later, the same story. She usually brought Chief back over after the dog had spent the night at her house, and she couldn't help but notice. If money were the issue, surely he could pick up some items at garage sales. They were held almost every weekend in the neighborhood. Even the second-hand store on Main Street had some nice furniture.

All in all, she'd have to say that Jack Butler looked as if he'd set up his life so that he could take off at any moment. And that might be a good thing for her, because she didn't care for the way her heart raced every time she saw him.

Even if he'd flirted with her, he'd only been teasing. Certainly after his experience with Lexi, he'd never want to take on their baggage. Not that she could blame him. There was probably not a man alive who would want to take them on, and she would have to get used to being alone. That would be OK, because she had the Lord.

“Mom, can Chief please sleep on my bed tonight?” Lexi asked. “I'll put an extra blanket down so he won't get on my sheets.”

“I don't know, Lexi. You might be starting up a bad habit that Jack won't appreciate.”

Chief sat at attention, his eyes fixed on Lexi, as though he understood that only she had his best interests at heart. Then again, worries about spoiling him were a little shortsighted now since Lexi had been doing so from the moment she laid eyes on him.

“He won't get spoiled if it's only once. Please?” Lexi twisted her hands together in a pleading pose.

“Fine, but let's not tell his master.” She patted Chief's head.

“Yessss!” Lexi gave a little triumphant jump. “Look what I taught him. High-five, Chief.”

Lexi tapped his chest, and Chief raised his paw in the air to meet Lexi's.

Happy girl, happy dog. If only it could be that simple for her.

A couple of hours later, Maggie peeked in the bedroom to find Lexi zonked out, a comfortable looking Chief resting his head on her hip. His eyes lifted as if to acknowledge her presence, but he kept his head down, no doubt hoping Maggie wouldn't chase him off.

“My, aren't you cozy? You certainly came into the right home. God sure blessed you, didn't He?” Maggie tucked the covers around Lexi and stroked her hair. At times like this, she was able to fool herself into believing that Lexi would still be her little girl for at least a bit longer.

“Thank you for loving her.” She patted Chief's head and his dark eyes stared up at her as though he could almost understand her words. God must have sent this furry creature to give Lexi such comfort.

The doorbell rang, causing Chief to raise his head and perk up his ears.

“Don't get excited, it's probably your master home early, and I'm sure he'll be more than happy to let you stay.” Maggie closed the door to the bedroom.

When she opened the front door, Jack wasn't behind it. Instead, Richard Bradshaw stood there, hot anger in his eyes.

Behind him, Paula pulled on his arm. “Richard, this isn't the way.”

“What way is there when she won't answer our calls?” Richard's voice lifted into the night.

Maggie's hands shook. She hadn't seen Richard in weeks, which was the way she liked it. If he didn't quiet down, the entire neighborhood would hear him. “What are you doing here? It's eleven o'clock at night, and Lexi is asleep.”

“We're here for an answer. Paula called you almost two weeks ago about the art festival, and we haven't heard a word.”

The art festival.
She'd forgotten all about it, aided by the fact that she didn't want to remember.

Lexi had been settled and distracted from all things related to Matt for the past couple of weeks. And she'd seemed happy for the first time in a while.

“I'm sorry. It did slip my mind.” It was the honest truth, though she doubted Richard would believe her.

“Of course it did,” Richard said. “You'd like to forget we exist, wouldn't you? But that won't happen.”

“That's not true,” Maggie stammered out. She was often at a loss for words around Richard because he reminded her so much of a bully. Her legs shook, and she stepped outside in an effort to keep the commotion from waking Lexi.

“It's not right to keep Lexi from us.” Richard shook his finger at her.

“I didn't—I wouldn't—I—” Now her voice shook.
Breathe, Maggie, breathe. Pray. Lord, please help me and give me the right words to say.

“Please, we can talk about this later. I'm sure Maggie wouldn't mind if we came back tomorrow.” Paula threw her a pleading look.

“I really am sorry I forgot. There's been a lot going on lately.”

“And you probably can't handle it all by yourself, which wouldn't surprise me,” Richard snapped.

Maggie found the strength to shoot Richard a look of contempt even if she immediately regretted it. “I can raise my daughter without any help from you.”

“You could have fooled me. What kind of mother sleeps entire days away and neglects to take her daughter to school? To feed her?” Richard pressed at the kink in her armor with relentless drive, like any good attorney.

A grieving mother does.

“Don't say any more,” Paula implored.

“I couldn't have said it better myself.” From behind Paula, partly clothed in the darkness of the night, came Jack's solemn voice. “Don't say another word.”

She hadn't even heard him drive up, maybe due to the sharp timbre of Richard's voice or the pounding of her own heart beat in her ears.

Richard and Paula both turned to face Jack, still wearing his uniform.

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy. Did someone actually call the cops?” Richard said. “Young man, this is a family matter.”

“This is my neighbor, Richard,” Maggie interrupted. “I don't know if anyone's called the cops, but you might not want to push your luck.”

“Maggie is correct. I suggest you both leave now and come back at another time,” Jack said.

Maggie stared at Jack who was the picture of coolness, confidence, and rock-steady assuredness. “I like that idea.”

“Of course you do. Nothing like another delay. But the art festival is this weekend, and we will need an answer,” Richard said.

“You can have an answer tomorrow,” Jack interrupted. “One day won't matter.”

“That's true.” Paula again pulled on Richard. “Let's go now, and we'll talk again tomorrow.”