Say No More (32 page)

“Glad you’re feeling more like yourself, today. Lise was so concerned when I called her yesterday. She even came by late last night to see you.”

When was this? You mean I had slept through the whole thing? Had the kids been with her?

“She wanted to wait until you were up on your feet. We’ll see how the day goes. I was hoping to be back at my own house by tomorrow, but moving you right now doesn’t seem practical.”

She helped me to my feet and we took the slow walk to outside. My left rear leg was getting stronger, but I was woozy and still very groggy. It was hard to walk straight. More than once on the way back to the house, I veered to my right and bumped into Bernadette’s leg. Inside, she showed me to a dog bed.

“Lise brought it by last night. Memory foam, so you’re more comfortable. Evidently, when she talked to the kids about getting a dog it was pretty unanimous. Well, I think the little one took some convincing, but it looks like you’re finally going home, Halo. You have your own family. They just need to find themselves a place to live.”

Did she say what I think she said?

Home. Family
. I rolled the words around in my mind. They had such a beautiful ring to them. A hummy, soothing sound that conjured visions of lazy mornings with children in fuzzy slippers, spoons pinging as they dunked for cereal and slurped the last of the sugary milk from their bowls; the tromp of feet as they grabbed their backpacks and ran to catch the bus; long naps on the rug warmed by the sun’s rays; a full basket of toys behind the recliner, the cottony guts removed from each overstuffed squirrel or obnoxiously squeaky duck; brisk walks with Lise on fall days, leaves whisking across the road; afternoons watching out the window, waiting for the bus to bring the children home so I could greet them each time as if they’d been gone for months; long games of ball; winter days romping through snowdrifts; evenings spent by the TV, while buttery hands lobbed kernels of popcorn at me; nights stretched out beside the bed of my boy, vigilant to every sound.

My heart swelled with joy. I could fill that role. The family dog. No longer the working dog. I could get used to the idleness, the simplicity, the outpouring of love.

That was when I noticed Bernadette, pressing my pills into tight rolls of bacon as she sniffed back tears. I went to her, leaned my still bruised shoulder against her leg, and gazed up at her. For a minute, she went on preparing my pill sandwiches, her plump fingers tucking the bitter pink and white capsules into the fatty strips, then turning them end over end, one after another. She dashed the back of her wrist under her nose with one hand, while the other drifted down to her side. I licked it clean, which brought a smile to her face.

I didn’t like the thought of leaving her, even if she did already have her children and grandchildren. We could have been a family, the two of us.

She fed me the pills — four of them, had the vet told her that many? — and then washed and dried her hands. I emptied the kibble bowl she set before me and drank my fill of water. Bernadette said nothing, just went about wiping down counters and scrubbing the sink, like she was trying to fill up the time.

My belly full, nature called, so I went to the back door and stared at it. Bernadette hobbled into the living room to fold up her blanket and rearrange the pillows. She flicked on the TV and punched at the remote control until a show came on with people seated on a stage, wailing and yelling with pointed fingers at one another while a man with silver hair pulled a paper from an envelope and pronounced, “Our results show ... Billy John, you are
not
the father.”

Bernadette stood transfixed in the doorway. “Well, I could’ve told you that. That baby doesn’t have his chin or its mother’s.”

If she didn’t open the door soon I was going to empty a river of urine right there. I whined once. Then more loudly. One hand on her bad hip, Bernadette shuffled back into the kitchen and pushed the door open.

“Hurry up, then. They could be here any minute.” She glanced at her watch. “Did she say 9:00 or 9:30? I can’t remember now.” She brushed her hand at me. “Well, go on. I’ve got some tidying up to do.”

My gait a little looser now, I trotted across the yard to the area where I usually did my business. Even though the leaves had begun to fall from the trees, it was warmer than it had been in many days. The ground was damp from a late night rain and the smells of the farm were particularly strong. I put my nose to the air, inhaling the memory of hay bales and baby lambs.

Soon I found myself standing in the opening of the barn. As I stood there, letting my eyes adjust to the shadows, a tiny mew emanated from somewhere within. I wandered between the empty pens, looking everywhere until I heard the sound again. It came from up high, where a small black and white kitten sat atop one of the cross rafters, its eyes wide with fright.

We locked eyes, taking each other in. As I watched it hunker down, I folded to the ground. A yawn gripped me. My eyelids drifted shut. I shook myself awake, feeling the pull of sleep. It was the pills, I knew. Not only did they dull my pain, but they made me tired. This was as good a place for a nap as any. As soon as I heard Lise’s van, I promised myself, I’d go back to the house.

I glanced up at the rafters. A skinny black tail flicked above me. Golden-green eyes glared distrustfully down. If that kitten was going to go anywhere, it would have to get past me first. Closing my eyes, I kept my ears open, listening, as I dreamed of the life that lay ahead with Lise and Hunter and the little girl I hadn’t yet met and wondered how Bernadette would manage without a dog.

—o00o—

The slam of a car door registered vaguely in the recesses of my awareness. It wasn’t until I heard greetings exchanged and the bang of the front door that I realized Lise and the children had arrived. Bernadette had forgotten me once again.

After a good shake, I scanned the rafters. I was still very sleepy, but I didn’t want to miss Lise again. The kitten was nowhere in sight. I left the barn and made my way toward the house. Before circling around back, where I expected Bernadette to let me in, I paused to look through the front window. A tall young boy, just entering the awkwardness of adolescence, stood at Lise’s side, his bangs hanging down over his eyes, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. In Lise’s arms was a little girl with a flowing crown of long blonde hair. She clung to her mother, head tucked against Lise’s shoulder. As I stepped closer to the porch to get a better look, the little girl turned her head in my direction. Her eyes widened, not unlike the kitten’s. She dug her fingers into her mother’s back and whimpered.

So that was Cammie — the daughter Cam had never known? I scurried to hide behind the scraggly yew bush between the edge of the front porch and the corner of the house.

“It seems someone is having second thoughts today,” Lise said to Bernadette as she stroked her daughter’s head. “I’m sorry. I thought this was going to go more smoothly.”

“Oh ...” Bernadette’s voice sank with disappointment. “Maybe she just needs time to get to know Halo? Tell you what, why don’t I check in the kitchen? I just might have a fudge pop or two stashed in the back of the freezer.”

Cammie tugged at her lip, her head twisting around to watch Bernadette disappear into the kitchen. I darted around to the back to wait at the door there, the pins in my leg sending little bolts of pain into my hip with each halting stride. I was slow. Couldn’t make myself move any faster.

Bernadette’s voice carried through the closed doors and windows as she rattled on about houses in the area, neighborhoods, and schools. Lise answered politely, but the children remained silent.

I scratched at the door to let Bernadette know I was there. She cracked it open.

“Stay there a few minutes,” she said in a hushed voice. “We don’t want to overwhelm Cammie. I’m going to tell her how good you were at the library.”

I woofed impatiently.
Let me show her
, I meant to say, but all I could do was give that huff, indecipherable to human ears. She wagged a finger at me and clicked the door shut.

The minutes stretched out. It was hard to stay awake. I contemplated swinging around to the front door and barking until she let me in, but thought better of it. I didn’t want to scare Cammie again.

I stared at the door knob for a long while. Nothing happened. Clouds scuttled across the sun, driven by a sharp wind. Bare branches clacked. From somewhere, the kitten mewed softly, persistently. I swiveled my head around, scanning among the trees. For a while I saw nothing, but the sound plagued me, scratched at my nerves. Curiosity seized me. I searched some more, until I saw a little blob of fur, high up in the catalpa tree on the far side of the lawn. Scrawny back legs swung from a horizontal branch, as the kitten gripped a lean bough with its front claws.

I took off across the yard, my speed hindered as I dragged my bad leg along. The wind gained force, until it was a gentle roar in my ears and I could no longer hear the sounds from the house. I limped to a halt at the base of the tree and barked several times, hoping to convince the kitten to do anything but let go. Cats could fall long distances and land safely, but this one was small and fragile.

It took a few minutes, but somehow the kitten scrabbled around the side of the bough until it was straddling it. I wasn’t sure whether I should wait where I was until Lise or Bernadette came out to discover the problem, or go back to the house and alert them. Cold pellets of sleet stabbed at my face. Blinking as miniature balls of ice bounced off me, I glanced at the back door, a good distance away from where I was.

That was when I saw the lanky, scruff-faced man skulking along the side of the house with a long tubular object clutched to his chest and a bottle swinging from his other hand.

Alarms clanged inside my head. I knew the loping stride, the bony shoulders, the sharp nose and jutting chin.

My hackles bristled.

T
ucker Kratz yanked the back door open and barged in, slamming it firmly behind him. The glass in the window rattled in its pane.

A growl rumbled low in my throat. I ran straight for the back door, evening out my stride for speed despite the knife of pain that threatened to flay me open from spine to hock. I flew over the patio ledge and skidded to a halt at the door on the slick surface. Something told me not to bark. If Tucker knew I was there, if he had found the shotgun from the barn, then all he had to do was point it at me and pull the trigger.

No, I had to stay quiet, get inside. But how?

Bernadette shrieked.

“God
damn
you, Aunt Bernie!” Tucker hollered. “You’s the one what told ‘em where I was, wasn’t you?” His words were slurred. There was a poutiness to his tone, like that of a little boy who hadn’t gotten his way and was about to burst into tears. “Why’d you do that?”

“Tucker, now, put that thing down,” she urged. Although she kept her voice low and even, there was a tremor to it. “Don’t make matters any worse than they already are.”

“Worse? Tell me how they can get worse. God Aw-mighty, woman! If’n they catch up with me, I’m already goin’ to the big house. Does it matter if I get fifteen years or thirty? Naw, I’m gonna settle some scores before that comes around — and you’re the first.”

Carefully, I raised myself up on my hind legs to peek through the window of the back door. Tucker cocked the shotgun and lurched toward Bernadette. She stumbled backward into the hallway. Her back hit the wall with a thud. She slid down, her legs splaying wide. Tucker guffawed at her, then grabbed his whiskey bottle off the counter with his free hand and chugged.

I could see Lise and Hunter standing at the threshold between the living room and hallway. Cammie was out of view, but I knew she was in there somewhere, too.

Gathering her legs beneath her, Bernadette tried to stand, but Tucker slammed the butt of the shotgun down on the table. Bernadette flinched.

“Don’t move!” Tucker sat, leaning back on two legs of the chair, his index finger stroking the trigger.

As he stared Bernadette down, Lise drew Hunter slowly to her and cast the slightest glance over her shoulder, toward the front door. I couldn’t see it from where I was, but I knew that’s where Cammie had to be.

“Now Tucker,” — Bernadette tilted her head as she tried to plead with him — “if —”

“Shuuuut! Up!” Tucker flung the bottle across the kitchen. It crashed against the cupboard next to the sink, close to the back door. I ducked. Slivers of glass exploded everywhere, a few of them clinking against the window pane I had just been watching through.

“Money. Is that what you want?” Bernadette said.

“What kind of money we talkin’ about, huh?”

“What do you need?”

While he was busy thinking — which, knowing him, could take awhile — I left the back porch and raced around to the front, stepping softly as I crept up the steps to stand before the door.

“— would be enough to get me to —” He snorted a laugh. “Aw shit, man, I can’t tell you that. Let’s jus’ say I need a
lot
of cash. Loads of it. But I can’t have you raisin’ suppish ... puspish ... Damn it! I mean sus-pi-cions at the bank. Maybe I ought to just stay here with these two while you go fetch me some moola? What d’ya say?”

Careful not to make a sound, I stood on my back feet to look through the picture window. My injured leg quivered with the strain. Lise and Hunter stood with their backs to me. Beyond them, I could see Bernadette’s legs sticking out in the hallway and past her Tucker’s gangly legs stretched out before him, his boots speckled with mud, a hole nearly worn through the sole of one. In his left hand, he gripped the shotgun loosely. His face was hidden from my view.

I still couldn’t see Cammie. My guess was that Tucker hadn’t seen her either.

“That’d be fine, Tucker,” Bernadette said. “I just need a little help getting up.”

He lowered the barrel at her and leaned forward. I shifted over to stay out of his line of sight.

“Not yet,” he said. “I need to think about this a minute. You were a little too quick there. Gotta be some catch.”