Storm Watcher (9 page)

Dad sat next to him and made notes on the sketch of the tower. “Check the data logger’s battery and all the wires, every inch, to see if they’re in good condition.” He drummed the pencil’s eraser on the table. “Wait a minute.”

He left the kitchen. When he came back, he had a box filled with tools. Jacob and Scott followed him, and Luke suppressed a groan. Something else for them to tease him about. But they surprised him by being interested. First time in months.

“Here’s some cleaner that should work, and my ohm meter to check the battery.” Dad explained the different tools he’d put in the box.

Luke marveled at his brothers and father. They were acting like a family again, like they had before Mom died. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.

Jacob and Scott thought it would be cool to have a tower in their backyard.

“Think of the advantages, Dad,” Jacob said. “You would be able to calibrate the wind speed by how far back the dogs’ ears blow. That way, when you’re out in the woods, you would know the exact wind conditions. Like if Ranger’s ears were full back that might equal twenty-miles-per-hour wind speeds.”

“Mom would’ve loved it,” Scott said. “Remember how she never checked the weather? With a weather station in the backyard, she’d have known the exact temperature outside. Instead of shivering during all those dog trials, she would have been prepared.”

Scott’s big smile, though, wilted when Dad didn’t join in the laughter. Dad’s whole body stiffened. All animation drained from his face as if someone had switched him off.

“Time for bed,” he said. Each word an effort. He shuffled out of the room, dragging all the good feelings with him.

Luke sagged in his chair. Scott had to mention Mom. Reminiscing about her was taboo. Not because Dad had ever said so, but because every time she was mentioned, Dad bolted for his bedroom.

“Without Dad there to help you, you’ll never get the tower working, Weather Weenie.” Jacob’s harsh words hammered into the silence.

“Better stick to scooping poop. It’s more suitable for your level of intelligence,” Scott said.

After a few more taunts, they left the kitchen. Luke should have been hurt, especially after their earlier nice remarks. But the quick change in their mood snagged in his brain. And teetering just out of reach was the answer to why his brothers constantly teased him. After a moment, it clicked.

They blamed him for Mom’s death.

CHAPTER 8

The Calm Before the Storm

Guilt poured over him like a cooler filled with icy soda. No surprise Jacob and Scott blamed him. Luke had caused Mom’s death, but he hadn’t connected the mean teasing with it. That was their way of punishing him. They’d been like this ever since the night his seventh-grade homeroom had won a free screening at the movies by collecting the most canned goods for the food drive. Halfway through the movie, thunder rumbled loud enough to be heard over the soundtrack.

He’d panicked and called Mom to come get him. “Now, please,” he’d said.

Mom had never arrived to take him home. Lightning had struck, and she’d died on her way to the movie theater. On her way to pick him up early.

Luke drew in a shaky breath. Leaving the instrument manuals on the table, he crawled into bed without changing. He huddled under the blanket. Dad must hate him too. That must be why Dad let the twins torment him.

It was a long miserable night, tossing and turning and wondering what he should do. Apologize? Talk to Dad? Would it change anything? No.

Nothing would bring Mom back. Nothing.

But would it change how Jacob and Scott treated him? Would it make Dad pay more attention to him? Wasn’t Dad already spending more time with him now that they had Willajean’s weather tower? Why ruin it? His thoughts spun like a puppy chasing her tail.

By morning, Luke couldn’t think about it anymore. If he did, he’d go insane and never leave his bed. Plus Storm Watcher kennel was the one place he felt almost normal. Almost.

July turned out to be the quiet before the storm. Every afternoon for an hour, Luke worked on the weather instruments and, at the same time, avoided Alayna. Fun. At night he sat at the kitchen table with Dad. They discussed the tower and planned what he should do to fix the instruments.

By early July the corn plants had doubled in size. After climbing up and down the tower twice, Luke dripped with sweat. He stopped for a drink. When a warm sponge pressed against the back of his leg, he dropped his water bottle in surprise and spun around. Lance sat on the dirt path. The dog had nosed him. His bushy tail swept the ground, creating a plume of dust.

At least he didn’t jump on me. He’s learned something.

Lance’s brown eyes held a cocky glint. The dog looked mighty pleased with himself. Luke scanned the cornfield, searching for Willajean.

Ten minutes later, Megan arrived, red-faced. Her short hair clung to her sweaty forehead.

“There he is,” Megan said between huffs. “I don’t know whether to praise him or punish him.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s not supposed to be here. We were playing, and I said your name. It was weird. He stood real still with his nose up, and then he just took off.”

Luke glanced at the wind vane. He was upwind of the training yard. “Why did you say my name?”

“Oh.” Megan stammered, and the red splotches on her face spread. “I said maybe when Luke comes back, we might take him swimming in the pond.”

“I think praise. You said my name, and he found me. Isn’t that what your mom’s training him to do?”

“I guess. But he shouldn’t have bolted.” She sighed. “He’s still a pup. I don’t want to be too hard on him.” Megan scratched Lance behind the ears, telling him he’d did good. He leaned against her legs.

“If you help me finish, we can detour to the pond on the walk back,” Luke said.

“Okay.”

They worked for awhile in silence. Lance snuffled through the corn, flushing out a couple of rabbits. He chased them into the tree line and then looped back to check on Megan and Luke before racing back into the corn to investigate again.

“I’m going to ask Mom if I can have him,” Megan said.

Luke was so focused on the wind speed sensor that he had to stop and think. “Have who?”

“Lance. Mom’s training him to do search and rescue. I really want to do it. To be his partner. There’s a ton of training involved. If I start now while he’s a puppy, by the time I’m sixteen, we’ll both be ready to volunteer with a SAR team.”

“What’re your chances that she’ll agree?” Luke remembered his unsuccessful attempt to get permission for a papillon.

“She’s fond of Lance, but if I show her I know what I’m getting into, I might convince her that I’m serious. Just like you did with your dad. Right? And that worked out.”

“Yeah,” Luke said. He ignored the queasy pinch in his gut. The desire to confess to Megan that he hadn’t gotten permission from Dad pushed up his throat. Luke had been afraid to say anything to Dad. Megan might have an idea, a solution to his dilemma, but he swallowed the words.

When they finished, they took Lance to the pond. He raced to the edge of the dock, dog-flopped into the water, and splashed Luke and Megan. It must have felt good on his hot skin. Luke would have jumped in after him, but pond scum clung to the banks.

“Here’s a perfect stick for him.” Megan threw it over Lance’s head.

Lance surged after it. He clamped the stick in his teeth and swam back to the dock. Dripping wet, Lance scrambled up the bank and plopped the stick onto Megan’s work boots. Just as she reached down to grab it, Lance shook his body, spraying her with water. The dog had a mischievous streak.

Luke laughed. “Good dog.”

Megan yelled, “Bad dog.” But she couldn’t keep a straight face.

“So when are you going to ask your mom about Lance?” Luke asked.

“When she’s in a really good mood.” Megan launched the stick high into the air. “Probably before the bloods go to their new owners. She’s always moody when a litter leaves. But I think, why get sad? You can’t run a kennel if you keep all the dogs. Fact of life.”

Luke understood. It hurt to let go of something you loved. And despite her flippant
fact-of-life
comment, he suspected Megan understood too.

After Lance tired, they walked back to the kennel. The other dogs had already been returned to their crates. Luke peeked through the kitchen window. Alayna hacked carrots for the dogs’ food with furious strokes.

“I’d better head home now,” Luke said.

“Coward,” Megan chided.

“I’m not the one who ran off and left her with all the work.”

Megan swung her arm to swat him. Luke ducked, and she missed him by inches. She stepped toward him.

“Later.” Wagging his fingers, he sprinted for his bike and jumped on.

She stopped chasing him half way up the lane.

“Coward,” she shouted.

By the end of July, Luke had cleaned all the sensors, repaired two frayed wires, recharged the battery in the data logger, wiped dirt off the solar panel, and rebalanced the rain gauge.

“Not that you need a rain gauge right now,” Dad said between bites of a grilled hot dog. He flipped through the gauge’s manual. “When’s the last time it rained?”

“June seventeenth,” Luke answered. He braced for a taunt from his brothers, but they were too busy racing each other to see who could eat the most hot dogs.

“Sheesh, the azaleas are gonna die if it doesn’t rain soon.” He tossed the manual away as if it was the cause of the drought and opened another book. “Tomorrow, I want you to turn the data logger on.”

“How do I start it?” Luke asked.

Dad handed him the manual and pointed to a diagram. “You connect the wires from the solar panel here. And the wires for the battery are attached here. Remember, the battery is only for backup.”

“Okay.”

“Woo-hoo!” Scott raised his hands into the air. “Six dogs with buns. Oh yeah, I’m the hot-dog-eating king.”

“Call the
Guinness Book of World Records
,” Jacob said. “Put it on speaker so I can hear them laugh at you.”

“Says the man who couldn’t finish five.”

“I’m so proud of you both.” Dad winked at Luke, including him in the joke.

Exclaiming over the time, Luke’s brothers raced to get ready for their shift at the park, but Dad hung around. He cleared the table, then loaded the dishwasher. Surprised and glad for the help, Luke scrubbed the baked bean pot extra hard.

“Those two never could stay still for long.” Dad slid forks into the bin. “When they were little it drove us crazy with all the noise and commotion, but when it was quiet…that meant big trouble.”

“Like the time they shaved Ranger’s whiskers?” Luke asked.

Dad laughed. A wonderful comforting sound Luke hadn’t heard since March.

“I’d forgotten about that,” Dad said.

“Or the time they built a snowman in our living room? Or the time they made a fort with the new curtains?”

“The snowman I’d never forget. I sucked water out of the carpet for days afterward.” Dad filled the soap dispenser. “Good thing you were too smart to get involved with their crazy schemes.”

Jacob and Scott hadn’t included him in most things, but Luke didn’t want to ruin this rare moment with Dad by mentioning it.

“They just don’t stop to consider the circumstances,” Dad said. “Unlike you. You’re my thinker. I’d never trust the twins to work on Willajean’s tower unsupervised, but I know you’re following directions and won’t hurt yourself.”

Luke squared his shoulders at the compliment.
Score one for me.

When they finished cleaning up, Dad said, “Come on, I want to show you something.” He looked like a kid who had just sneaked money out of his parent’s wallet.

He led Luke to the Puppy Palace. The door had been propped open to keep the shed cooler, even though the three dogs preferred to sprawl in the shade under the oak tree. Too curious to remain there, the hounds trotted over to check it out.

Luke’s heart lurched. In the palace was another bunk. On the empty wood board were a new dog’s bed, a shiny stainless steel bowl, a rubber chew toy, a puppy collar, a leash, and a bag of puppy food.