Tango: The Tale of an Island Dog (11 page)

“I didn’t sell anything, not a single sweater,” Miss Gustie lamented after McKenna arrived. “A
tall woman came in, bigger than me, and found a sweater she loved—that red sweater there—but she needed it in a size 44, and I only had a 36.

“Then a tiny bit of a woman came in. She wanted the blue sky pattern in size 36, but I only had a 44. And so it went, all the day long—my worst day yet. If I have too many more days like this, Pup and I will both be eating dog chow.”

McKenna hung her pouch on the back of a kitchen chair and sat down.

“So, how did you do?” Miss Gustie finally asked.

McKenna felt her face flush. She wanted to gush out her good news, but after hearing Miss Gustie’s complaints, she held back. “Okay, I guess. Listen, I can’t stay long. I have to make some more candles.” McKenna held out her gift. “But here. I brought you something—for helping me.”

Miss Gustie’s face brightened as she untied the ribbon. “Is it enchanted? Enchanted enough to make my sweaters fly off the shelves?”

“If you believe it is, then it is. That’s what Doc Tucker says.”

“Why, thank you, McKenna.” Miss Gustie folded the tissue paper, smoothing it into a neat square. “What a nice surprise. Now, don’t hold out on me, how many candles did you sell?”

“Seven.” McKenna beamed.

“Good for you.”

The gray-haired woman smiled as if she truly meant it—kind of like a grandma might, McKenna thought.

“You should feel real proud of yourself,” said Miss Gustie.

McKenna quickly shooed away the vision of having a grandmother.

“You know,” she told Miss Gustie, “it’s almost like I knew which candle they’d choose before they did. Spooky, huh?”

“Yes, I know how that is sometimes.”

Since Miss Gustie seemed in no hurry for her to leave, McKenna told her about her first customer and the ritual she’d improvised.

“Oh, it gives me the shivers just thinking about you playing around with a person’s dreams like that.”

“Except for one little girl,” explained McKenna, “no one else even asked if they were really enchanted. One lady bought one because it matched her bathroom.”

“And what did you say to the little girl?” asked Miss Gustie.

“I told her the truth.”

“And what is the truth?”

“That I didn’t know.”

Miss Gustie released a deep breath, nodding her approval.

Hours later, inside her shed, McKenna pulled the ceiling bulb chain. In the dark, she twisted the strands of her hair, afraid to vocalize her real fear: What if her candles really were enchanted?

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she lit the willow green candle she’d named
Mint Dreams
.

What if the flame lights up my future?

McKenna fanned the smoke up, down, and around: heart, mind, soul, and body.

What if the flame lit up the past?

Dreams fluttered close to her heart, but she couldn’t put her wishes into words. She concentrated, gazing into the flame, counting:
One thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three …

No! Forget it! She—whoever
she
is—didn’t—doesn’t—care about me, and I don’t care about her. A deep breath filled her cheeks; when she blew out the air, a shower of spit came with it. The flame sizzled and died.

McKenna buried her head in her hands. Beneath the floorboards, she heard a soft, soulful crooning, the fox’s lullaby. Knowing that the fox was close gave her comfort.

McKenna lit a second candle, a deep pink one called
Wild Rose.
She peered into the flame, trying to see herself living in Toronto, Annie Pike’s arm resting on her shoulder.

But no matter how long she gazed at the flickering light, McKenna could only see what she already had: a shed, the fox, Miss Gustie, and the little dog, Pup.

In the corner of Augusta’s bountiful garden, the raspberry bushes had sent their stems under the fence, into the Cody backyard. Ripe berries hung there like little red lanterns from the green stems.

On his way to see Beau, Tango popped one raspberry after another into his mouth. Full of a fresh fruit long forbidden by Marcellina, Tango crawled into Beau’s tunnel beneath Enchanted Candles.

In the dark, he sought Beau’s amber eyes.

“I’m burrowing a den for the winter,” explained Beau. “This winter, I will not sleep in my den in the dunes. Even if McKenna returns to the North Shore, I will not follow.”

Tango didn’t have to ask why. Beau’s reddish gray fur was thinning; Tango could almost count Beau’s ribs. Often, Beau was short of breath. Saddened, Tango envisioned Beau alone all winter in this cold, dark hole.

What would Tango do if Beau were to die? He’d grown accustomed to being with Beau. Did that mean that he and Beau were kindred spirits? And what about McKenna Skye? Why was Beau so loyal to the tall girl with the long black hair? What was their story? If Tango asked, would Beau tell him?

Above them, a door closed. A key turned in a lock.

“That’s McKenna,” said Beau. “On her way to the sand flats. It’s almost low tide. Follow her.”

“I can’t, I told you. I hardly know her!”

“You have nothing to fear.”

“She’ll think I’m lost. She’ll pick me up and take me back to Miss Gustie’s.”

“Tango, she will understand. Do not worry.”

Tango rubbed his snout with his paw, hesitant to make the move.

“Do as I say,” Beau urged. “Hurry!”

Tango scooted across the Codys’ disheveled yard, scurried across Water Street, past the lighthouse, through spears of bright green beach grass. Sitting on a weathered log on the pebbly side of the beach, McKenna was unlacing her boots. Her gleaming black hair was pulled back into a pony tail.

“Hey, little dog, what are you doing here? Does Miss Gustie know you’re out here?”

Tango blinked. He blinked again. He couldn’t
believe his eyes. A shiny chain of silver links encircled McKenna’s ankle!

Darting as close as he dared, Tango growled, then barked frantically.
That’s my collar! That’s my collar! Do you hear me? It’s mine!

A puzzled look clouded McKenna’s face. “What the heck is the matter with you?”

Tango pounced on her ankle and nipped at the silver links.

McKenna pushed him away. “Stop it! You are the silliest dog I’ve ever seen.”

Tango circled McKenna, inching his way closer to her ankle. Was his silver heart attached?

“It’s okay. Come here, little guy. I’m sorry I pushed you.”

While his head was telling him to attack—to rip his silver chain off McKenna’s leg—the voice of his sweet sister, Dulcinea, spoke to his heart:
Be kind, Tango.

McKenna’s eyes were dark brown—not unlike his own—and kind, like Marcellina’s. She did seem to be trying to understand what he wanted. Calmed, Tango wagged his tail. While McKenna rubbed his ears, Tango smelled the ring of silver that once connected his silver heart to the chain. The ring had a tiny gap between the ends, where his identification tag must have slipped through.

McKenna petted his head. “You’re a nice little dog, even if you are a little weird. Someday I’m going to get myself a dog just like you. Maybe I’ll name him Nipper.”

It had been a long time since anyone actually said to him that he was a nice little dog. Tango licked her hand. For a moment, it felt as if a butterfly was beating its fragile wings inside his heart.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Tango barked with joy. Of course he did!

McKenna took long strides across the flats, keeping her eyes on the sand. Tango was amazed—McKenna must know what he wanted!

At first Tango followed in McKenna’s footsteps. However, hope and impatience got the best of him; he split off to carry on his own search. Tango made wider and wider circles around McKenna, looking for clues.

Overcome by a delicious sense of freedom, Tango soon lost focus. He splashed in tide pools, rolled, and turned somersaults in the sand. He scampered away from water spouts made by razor clams and chased skittering crabs off flat rocks.

McKenna raced after him, laughing. When she caught up, Tango shook his body, splattering water all over her legs. Again she laughed.

All of a sudden, out of the corner of his eye,
Tango spied a purple blob in the sand. He lifted his paw, ready to examine the unfamiliar creature.

McKenna cautioned him away. “That’s a jelly-fish.”

A jellyfish? When he went overboard, a school of jellyfish kept him afloat—isn’t that the story Beau told him? This gooey creature? But how?

“The jellyfish is stuck,” explained McKenna. “It has to wait until the tide rolls back in and washes its body back to sea. Else, it’ll die.”

But this jellyfish had possibly saved his life! How could Tango just let it die?

Tango laid his head on his paws and whined.

“I know. It breaks my heart to see any animal die without a fighting chance.” McKenna bent down and took a closer look. “Go on! Run! Have fun! Let me worry about the jellyfish.”

Trusting that McKenna would care for the stranded sea animal, off he sped. Now he was the World’s Fastest Terrier. Wind rustled his untrimmed fur. He sprinted from the nose of one sand bar to the tail of the next and swam through rivulets of water between. How glorious he felt! How free!

Finally, Tango got winded. He stopped to catch his breath. Where was McKenna?

In the distance, McKenna appeared as a black speck near the wharf. Alone, and very far from
shore, Tango felt small and insignificant, overpowered by the wide expanse of sand between him and the safety of Augusta’s house.

He ran at full speed toward shore, but abruptly braked as a foul odor wafted in the breeze. He sniffed the air. Cats.

“Well, well, well.” Tango heard a raspy, unfamiliar voice. “If it isn’t the Rat-Boy.”

Tango spun around. A black-and-white cat with three legs, a black beard, and a white tip at the end of his tail approached.

“Hey, Rat-Boy, long time no see.”

Before Tango could react, he was hemmed in by one, two, three, four, five other cats. Beau’s whispered description of how the cats were terrorizing small animals flashed in his mind. Would they attack him, right here in broad daylight?

“What-cha up to, Rat-Boy?” smirked the creamy blue cat, one of three who’d surrounded Beau some nights back.

Tango was terrified—more so than he’d been of the humongous white rat. In this pack, Tango sensed something far more deformed, much more sinister. Although each cat was individually sized, shaped, and colored, what emerged was a single gruesome creature with six tails, twelve eyes, and twenty-three legs. Their voice was one voice. Their objective: to instill fear.

“Looking for something?” snarled the tabby.

“I might be,” Tango answered, trying not to appear unnerved.

But his body betrayed him: the hackles on his back spiked, a growl rose in his throat.

The Beast sneered and jeered with all six of its mouths.

“You hear that, Nigel?—he’s looking for something. In your territory.” The midnight black cat snickered.

“Yeah, Nigel, maybe you should make the Rat-Boy your Assistant Scavenger,” mocked an ivory and taupe cat with crystal blue eyes.

More hoots and howls.

The big orange cat with the sinister face circled Tango. The cat’s breath smelled like a New York sewer.

Tango shifted his weight to his back legs, preparing to attack.

WHACK! SMACK! A plate of steel slapped the sand.

“Scram!” McKenna Skye’s voice rang out.

Tango sprang out of the cat circle. He didn’t stop running until he was dozens of yards away.

Again McKenna slapped the blade of her shovel on the sand. “Like I said: SCRAM!”

The cats sped off. McKenna heaved an aluminum pail into the middle of the retreating pack.

“EEeeeee-Ow!” the blue cat wailed when the pail bounced off her back.

In a blink of an eye, the Cat-Beast raced toward the wharf, all six tails tucked between its twelve back legs. Tango ran toward McKenna and begged to be picked up.

“It’s okay. They’re gone now.” She tucked Tango under her arm and with her free hand, gathered up the pail and shovel.

McKenna paused. She seemed to be puzzling out what had just occurred. She shrugged her shoulders. “Come on. We’d better get back, or Miss Gustie will be sending out a posse to find you. She’ll have my hide if she thinks it was my idea to bring you out here. We can rescue jellyfish tomorrow.”

Deep in his ever-lengthening tunnel underneath Enchanted Candles, Beau Fox slept. Beau dreamed that he was hunting in a thick stand of spruce. Sunbeams cut through the branches, and suddenly, Beau was knee-deep in a garden of pink flowers, lady’s slippers in bloom.

With slipper-shaped lips, the chorus of flowers implored him to lie down in their heavenly bouquet. But he wasn’t ready. Or was he? Then, on the far side of the garden, Tawny appeared. Her fur—once red—was silvery white, sparkling with teardrops of dew.

Just when Beau thought that he could resist the invitation no longer, Tango burst into his den. “Beau! Beau! Wake up! Wake up! You aren’t going to believe it!”