Leave a Trail (32 page)

“Aren’t you warm in that sweater? It’s mid-nineties today.”

“Not in here, it’s not. I’m good.”

Cory held her look for a second, then nodded. “Okay, then yeah. You can dry. These two are going to need to spring for a dishwasher, now that they have Joey and Millie. Doing a ton of dishes by hand is not the most fun ever, especially with little ones around.”

Adrienne picked up a green-and-white striped dishtowel. “I like it. Reminds me of my mom.”

“Shannon told me just a little about that. Sounds like she was pretty special.”

“Yeah. She was. She was smart and funny. Kind of a dork.” Adrienne laughed. “She wore a fanny pack whenever we traveled. And socks with Teva sandals. I used to get really annoyed and embarrassed.”

Smiling, Cory rinsed a plate and handed it over. “She was a professor, too, right? Like your father?”

Adrienne pushed away the storm cloud that threatened at the thought of her ex-father and just answered Cory’s question. “Yeah. She taught math.”

“Wow. Lots of brains in your family.”

Adrienne shrugged. “Not like I inherited those genes, though. I’m all Shannon, as everybody can see.”

“She’s no slouch, either.”

“No. She’s awesome. Sometimes I wonder…” Crap. What had she been about to say? “Never mind.”

Cory shut off the faucet and turned. “You can tell me anything you want, hon. In confidence, if you want. I know everybody still walks on tiptoes around me, but I’m okay—or I’m figuring out how to be okay, at least. So if you need someone to talk to, I’m around.

“Thanks.” Adrienne smiled and nodded toward the dishes, hoping to start up their chore again and get the focus off her.

Cory turned back to the sink and they worked quietly for a while. The confession that had leapt unbidden onto Adrienne’s tongue refused to go away. She had no idea why she felt driven to open up to Cory, of all people, but finally, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if Shannon had kept me. I never used to wonder that. I really never did. But lately, since I’ve been here, I wonder. What would it have been like to have been raised in this life?”

“Well, you know Shannon didn’t come to Signal Bend until like five years ago, so I don’t think you would have been raised in this life then, either.”

“I know. None of it’s real. Just aimless wondering. But the life I had totally fell apart, and I don’t know what this life I’m in now is.”

Again, Cory turned off the faucet. This time, she took the towel out of Adrienne’s hands, wiped her own hands on it, and led her to sit at the table.

“Well,
that
I know a lot about. I can’t tell you how many times my life has fallen apart and left me with nothing but rubble to rebuild from. This last time was by far the worst time. Losing Hav—I won’t ever get over it. I only had him for a year. One lousy year. And he changed everything for me. For Nolan, too.” Tears topped over and ran down Cory’s cheeks, but she spoke on, ignoring the streams down her face and the drops on her blouse. “But he did something for us that we still have. He gave us a life that was still standing when he left it. We have Loki. We have this family. There will always be a big, bald hole in our lives, but there was more than rubble left, and that’s because he gave us this life. We’re not alone, and we never will be. Hav gave us that.”

Watching Cory feel her loss made Adrienne’s heart ache, and she felt her own tears coming. Cory reached out and took her hand. Adrienne could see the long scar on her wrist, moving from her hand toward her elbow. She knew what that scar was.

Then they were both crying. Cory continued, still ignoring her tears. “You have that, too. This life is scary, no question. But you will never be alone. There will always be somebody to share with you—your fear, your pain, your loss. And, like today, your happiness, your peace.”

Sniffling, Adrienne wiped her own tears with her free hand, unwilling to let go of Cory. “Shannon said something like that the night my father dropped my things off. The night she went into the hospital.”

“Well, like I said, she’s no slouch. You know, all us women, and most of the guys, have…complicated histories with our parents. I think Badge is the only one who has two good, living parents. Maybe that’s what makes us so tight. This is the family we chose when the one we started out with broke.”

~oOo~

The party wound down fairly early, just past dark. The townsfolk had headed on their way shortly after cake, and the Horde without families of their own went over to the clubhouse for less child-centered enjoyments. Isaac and Lilli took their exhausted children home. Cory took Nolan and Loki home. Then Len and Tasha left for the house Len had finished building not too long ago, and it was only Badger and Adrienne, and Show and Shannon, with the babies. They were becoming a family in their own right, the six of them.

Shannon had already taken Joey up to bed. Adrienne held Millie, who was sound asleep on her chest after taking a bottle of breast milk. Millie had not managed to figure out how to nurse. Shannon called it “nipple confusion,” and their pediatrician had told her that the twins’ time in the NICU, when they’d both been bottle-fed both formula and expressed milk, might be the cause. Joey didn’t seem to be confused at all. But Millie wanted only a bottle. Adrienne knew not being able to nurse both babies was causing Shannon some stress, and the breast pump looked like a torture device, but she liked feeding Millie. She liked everything about these babies, from their little bald heads to their tiny pink toes. When she was still living in New Paltz, she’d nannied for a family with an infant, and she’d enjoyed it. But she hadn’t felt about that little boy the way she felt about Joey and Millie. She felt something physical, like a pull in her chest. She hadn’t worked out yet what it was, but she did not mind even a little that she had to spend so much time here with Shannon and the twins.

Dora had had to replace her at the shop, anyway. It was summer, and they’d been busy. She couldn’t wait for Adrienne to be able to come back. That job hadn’t lasted very long. She wasn’t sure what she’d do for work when she was ready to work again. Badger told her not to worry about it, but she didn’t just want to sit around once the doctors said she didn’t need to—and that day was coming up soon. In the meantime, her days were full of family, and she liked it.

Badger and Show came inside from the yard, where they’d been cleaning up. Show smiled down at her. “Hey, little one. You thinking about running off with my girl there?”

She gave him an innocent look. “No, sir. I promise. Just wasn’t quite done with the snuggle. Shannon took Joey up already.”

“You mind if I get my hands on her? Barely saw her all day.” Show reached out for his littlest daughter, and Adrienne reluctantly let her go. Millie squeaked and squirmed and then settled heavily onto her father’s shoulder, her tiny hand twisting instinctively into his hair. His voice now little more than a murmur, Show said, “I’m gonna take her up, see how Shannon’s doing. You two heading out soon?”

Adrienne turned to Badger, who was eyeing her with interest. Then he nodded and looked over at Show. “Yeah. We’re on our way.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” When Adrienne stood, Show bent down and kissed her head. “Love you, little one.”

“I love you, too. Sleep well tonight.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. We’ll see how that works out.”

As Show turned to the stairs, Badger took Adrienne’s hand and led her out to his pickup. She missed riding with him on his bike, but since the fire, he wouldn’t let her, not even after she’d gotten the brace off earlier that week. He was probably right, but she couldn’t wait until she was fully healed and strong again.

~oOo~

His pickup was old, though, and had a bench seat, so she sat right next to him, his arm around her shoulders. Because of his own scar, he couldn’t stretch his arm too far out to the side, so she tucked herself against his shoulder. It was a nice way to ride. Not like his bike, but cozy. She felt safe and warm and loved.

The drive to their little place wasn’t long, and they went along in companionable silence. About a half-mile or so from the town proper, Badger muttered, “Hold up. What was that?” He pulled onto the shoulder, then reached across her and took a gun out of the glove box. “Stay here, babe.”

“Badge, wait. If you think you need a gun, you shouldn’t go out there alone.”

“I’m not going alone. I’m taking my gun. Stay put and lock the doors.” He got out of the car, precluding further discussion.

Her heart slamming against her ribs, Adrienne turned to watch out the back window as Badger crept along the side of the truck. He’d left the lights on, and the taillights made an eerie, blood-red glow. Then, at the end of the bed, he stood up and stared back toward the shoulder, along the fence of whatever farm they were near. Adrienne wasn’t familiar enough with the town geography yet to know who owned what. As she looked on, he tucked his gun in his jeans, against the small of his back, and walked beyond the red glow of light. She could see that he’d squatted down, but she couldn’t see more. Not knowing was killing her, but she did what he’d said and stayed where she was.

Then he was trotting back to the truck, and when he came into the radius of red light, she saw that he was grinning. She unlocked the door as he came to it.

He opened it, breathless, his grin wide and bright. “Come on. Come see.” He held out his hand to her.

She didn’t take it. “What is it?”

“Come see.” He gave his hand an impatient shake, and she took it and let him pull her gently out of the car. He led her to the place where he’d been squatting. As they approached she heard noises that she couldn’t make out at first. And then she could. Whimpering.

“A puppy?”

He pulled her to the edge of the shoulder, right along the drainage ditch. It had been a dry summer, and the ditch was full of hardy wildflowers, like goldenrod and Queen Anne’s lace, but no water. “
Puppies
. Somebody must have dumped a litter. I saw their eyes glowing in the headlights. Couldn’t make sense of it at first.” He squatted and held out his hands, and a dark, round ball of puff in the ditch put its paws up on the shoulder and carefully nosed his fingers. “They’re good size. Hard to tell in the dark, but maybe some Rotty in them.” The pup, apparently having decided that Badger was an okay guy, struggled up onto the shoulder and sat between his squatting legs.

“Oh, my God. What a cutie!” Adrienne looked into the ditch. She could hear them, and just make out some squirming bodies. “How many?”

“Not sure. I want to take them with us. Take them to the clubhouse. Maybe they can be Horde dogs.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s a good idea. We can’t leave them in the ditch, at any rate. Are we sure there’s no mom?”

“I think so. With us messing with them, she’d have been here if she could be. I think this is a dump. It happens around here sometimes. People drive their dog out into the boonies and leave it on the road. Never seen a whole litter before, but I bet that’s what happened.”

Here was something that made the idea of a god hard for Adrienne to swallow. Innocent little puppies dumped in a ditch. “People suck.”

“They do. Can you help me? I’ll get them out of the ditch if you can take them to the truck. We can put them in the bed. It’s not that far to the clubhouse.”

There were five, and they definitely weren’t teacup pups. Obviously quite young, they were solid little furry chunks. Badger had decided that the pup who’d come up to him was the alpha, because he seemed to be most alert and cautious, and the others seemed to wait for him to say the coast was clear. He was also, by a good margin, the biggest. Once he was okay with Badger and Adrienne, then the other pups got noisy, jumping and squirming and yipping. They were adorable.

It was a struggle to get through the puppy kisses and enthusiastically wiggling butts and get them all into the bed of Badger’s truck, but they managed it, both of them laughing the whole time. Adrienne thought it had probably been months since she’d felt this good.

As Badger took her hand to lead her to the cab, Adrienne pulled back. “I’ll ride in back with them.”

“What? No!”

“It’s fine. It’s not far, and I want to make sure they’re okay. What if one of them jumps out?”

“They’re too little to jump out, babe. And your leg—I don’t want you sitting on the damn steel bed.”

“Badge, I’m fine. I’m not riding anywhere but in the back with them. They’ve been alone long enough.” As she said it, her eyes teared up, shocking her—and Badger, whose brow wrinkled.

He put his hand on her face and leaned in to kiss her. “Okay. I’m going slow, though, and I’m opening the back window. You let me know if you’re hurting or whatever. If you need me. Right?”

She nodded. He kissed her again, lingering this time, and then swung her into his arms and lifted her over the side of the truck bed.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Badger ran into the clubhouse and grabbed Thumper, who was sitting alone playing on the Xbox. It was not long past ten o’clock, and he’d expected the Hall to be livelier, but maybe the other guys were already getting their play.

“Hey, Thump. I need a box. A big, cardboard box. Something like that. Dig one up for me. Quick. Just set it…over there”—he indicated the corner nearest the television—“and then come out to my truck.” Thumper nodded at the order and got up from the couch. Badger turned back to the front door.

Adrienne was sitting in the middle of his truck bed, buried in puppies. As Badger approached, the alpha pup left the pile and walked toward him. He was a big guy, with huge paws, all four looking like he’d walked through a trough of white paint.

“Hey, buddy. You keepin’ watch?” He put his hand over the wall of the truck bed, and the pup nosed him, then gave him a lick. “How you doing, babe? Your legs okay?”

Adrienne was giggling, so he already knew the answer, but she beamed at him and answered, “Oh yeah. These guys are great. I want all of them!”