Twilight (10 page)

When Cal got into work the following day, Frank O’Connor motioned him into the drab room that doubled as office and conference room. Reaching to the corner of the desk, Cal lifted the pink head on a black plastic base that read
Stress Head
. Cal squeezed. The vinyl features mashed together, then ballooned slowly back to their normal form.

“Great, isn’t it?” Frank grinned, tonguing the gap between his front teeth.

Cal put the head down. “If you’re into mashing faces.”

“Good therapy, anyway.” The red rushed to Frank’s face as he sputtered away from his use of that word. “Sit down, Cal.”

Cal sat.

“I guess you’ve noticed I got people dropping like flies.”

“Flu?” The local news had carried the story last night. Much of Montrose was sniffling, hacking, and shaking with fever.

“So the doctors say. Some germ from hell.” Frank ran a hand over the tuft of red hair that sprouted from the center of his rounded head like the mayor of Munchkin Land. “Now Rob’s down with it, and you know him. He’ll be out till spring. Fact is, I’m running awful short.” He strained back the springs of his chair.

Cal fingered the head again, poking the nose in like a skull. It mutely reformed its blank features.

“I need you active.”

“No.”

“I know what you can do, and there’s no one I’d rather have at my back.” Frank peeled a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth. “This other stuff is fine, but it wasn’t meant to be permanent or exclusive.”

The entire head collapsed inside Cal’s palm. “Things change.”

“If you let ’em.”

Cal stood. “You’ve got twenty-four volunteers.”

“Half of ’em down sick.”

Cal replaced the head on the desk. “Sorry, Frank. You don’t want to see my act if it really gets hot.” He passed through the doorway in two strides.

In the middle of the night Regg ie Douglas woke. His eyes opened to the darkness and Suanne’s soft breathing. He felt her warmth and soft curves against his side and almost reached an arm around and snuggled back in. But there it was again, the urging.
Okay, Lord. You got the reasons; I got the time
.

He pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed, dropping to his knees. It was nothing new, God putting someone on his heart so strongly it called him to action. Even the name was familiar.
Cal
. God had plans for that man. Cal just didn’t know it.

Reggie’s thick knees could hold up as long as it took, though. He’d seen harder cases than Cal fall like timber. Trouble was, Cal always landed on his feet. Even in the psychiatric center, when you’d think he’d been brought low, he didn’t hit bottom. He still found something inside himself to fight back with.

Rita saw that strength and fed it. But that was psychiatry. He’d pray for her tonight, too. But right now, God’s call was for Cal. He didn’t know if Cal had a bottle in hand, if he’d suffered a recurrence of the post-traumatic stress, or if he was simply at a critical point as he’d been the other night. All Reggie knew was that God called him to wrestle for Cal’s soul, and that he would do.

He bowed his head.
Ah, Lord …
Suddenly the night was fresh, and Reggie could go on forever. Cal Morrison had better watch out when that Holy Ghost power started to flow.

5

A
DOG TEACHES A BOY FIDELITY,

PERSEVERANCE, AND TO TURN AROUND

THREE TIMES BEFORE LYING DOWN
.

Robert Benchley

L
IKE CLOCKWORK, the twenty-fourth of November brought snow Midwestern style. The local news was calling the event “Old Faithful,” since that day had seen the first real snow for the last three years. Though deep, wet, and more than he wanted to tramp through on a cold afternoon after a frustrating day of inspections, Cal nonetheless did, because he had hit on the tracks that he thought might explain last night’s whining.

At first he had thought by the yelps outside that Mildred’s cat, Sienna, had attracted a hound. But when he went down, she was in her usual spot on the hearth, and neither Mildred nor Cissy had stirred from their sleep. The snow was coming too thickly for him to see far, and he’d shrugged it off and gone back to bed. He hadn’t had time to search it out that morning, but when he got home from work there was clear evidence around the stairs and across the yard.

The tracks were three paw prints with a line running beside, which could mean the dog was dragging a hind leg. He followed the trail into the forest. Maybe one of Fred’s hounds had strayed and been injured. He stopped. The snow was crushed down in a circular pit, and he bent to examine a tuft of reddish gold hair.

Straightening, he followed the track as it dipped into a dense thicket of redbud and chokecherry. The snow was falling again in wet clumps as he edged through the bracken. A whine encouraged him, and he pushed aside the branches to find the dog, a retriever mix by the look of her. She rolled to her side, exposing her lighter-colored belly.

“Hey, girl.” Cal reached forward slowly, let her sniff his hand, then ran it over her head and throat. She had no collar. Carefully he felt down her side, and she yelped when he reached her hip. “What’s happened to you?” He guessed she’d met a car, though the highway wasn’t busy out this way.

She struggled to rise. He backed out, encouraged the dog to follow, and stiffly she did, holding the hind leg just at the top of the snow as he’d guessed. When they were in the clear, he examined her again. “What are you doing out here, huh?” She nuzzled his face as he stroked her and gave his chin a weak slurp with her tongue.

“Well, come on, then.” He led her back to the house. She was just about played out by the time they reached it. He gathered the dog into his arms, carried her up the stairs, and laid her on the foot of the bed. Then he toweled her dry, gently avoiding the problem areas, and set a bowl of water beside her. She lapped it onto his spread. He first placed a call to Second Hope Animal Shelter, where a lost dog might be reported, then called Fred Higgins, who knew every dog in the area.

“Nope, can’t say as I recognize the description,” Fred said. “Davises got retrievers, but they ain’t mixed, and none’s got a white chest like you say.”

“Would you mind taking a look at her?”

“Be over shortly.”

Cal hung up and looked at the dog. “You have a home around here, girl?”

She wagged her tail but didn’t move.

“Well, since you don’t have tags, I’ll have to call you something. How about Annie? You like that?”

She nuzzled his hand. Her ears raised as Fred clumped up the back stairs, and Cal let him in. Fred shuffled over. His overalls smelled of cigar smoke and grease. His nails were outlined in black, but his hands were gentle as he ran them over her limbs. “Her leg ain’t broke. I don’t think she’s been hit. More like she jumped or got thrown from a moving vehicle.”

“Do you recognize her?”

“Can’t say I do. She ain’t from this end. No collar neither. I’d guess she’s been dumped.”

Cal’s excitement grew. “Who would dump a dog like her?”

“Who’d do anything? People got reasons.”

“How bad is she, do you think? I couldn’t feel anything broken, but she’s sore.”

“She’ll mend. You keeping her here?”

“Until I hear different.” Cal knew she had come to him, just as Sadie had, just as all the good things in life came when he wasn’t looking. He thought of Laurie and frowned, then stroked the velvety ears and bony head of the dog. He’d handled that last phone call poorly. A knee-jerk reaction. He watched the mour nful roll of Annie’s eyes.

Fred pulled the orange hunting cap down over his ears and headed for the door. “I’ll keep my ears open.”

“Thanks, Fred.” Cal went down the inside stairs and found Mildred in the front room. “I have a dog.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You know I’ll take care of her. She won’t bother you.”

“She’ll bother Sienna.”

He pictured the old cat hissing her way around the yard. “They’ll get used to each other. When Annie’s mended, she’ll spend the days outside. Keep an eye on the place.”

“It almost killed you to put that other one down.”

“That’s my problem.” Cal frowned.

Mildred grunted. “Where’d she come from?”

“I don’t know. Looks like she’s been dumped, but if someone claims her …” He shrugged.

“Don’t get attached.”

“You sound like my grandmother Hazel.”

“Smart woman.”

Cal saluted and made his escape by the front door. Once the night set in, the streets were going to freeze, but now they were slushy and the jeep handled fine, tracing the path to Laurie’s.

It had been three weeks since their chance encounter at Ray’s couch moving. Three weeks after seven years, and all he could think of was seeing her again. Who was he fooling? Mildred? Himself? So he’d shown his dark side. She said it didn’t matter. Maybe it didn’t. She knew he was a clown; he’d only confirmed it.

He stopped for peace offerings at the Walgreen’s on the corner of Lincoln and Wood. The place was a madhouse of people brought out by the storm. Storehouse mentality. Well, the power had gone down last year. Better for them to be prepared.

He chose a handheld video game for Luke, and for Maddie a stuffed puppy with a purple ribbon. Laurie was harder.
The next best thing to his hands
, the sign read over the electric foot massager. That would go over real well. Shaking his head, Cal took his place behind a gaggle of women at the cosmetics counter.

One pink-faced, dimpled woman spun his way. “Aren’t you the fireman who works with the kids?”

“Probably.”

“I teach at Fremont. You did the fire safety program … the clown and all.”

“How’d you recognize me?”

She laughed. “I saw you packing up after you took off the nose and hair. I teach music, so I’m free the period after lunch.”

Two people ahead were processed at the counter. He shifted, but she didn’t move forward.

“I think you’re just wonderful with the children. Do you have kids of your own?”

“No.”

“It’s unusual to have such a rapport. For a man, I mean. Not that some men aren’t as nurturing as women, nothing like that.”

Cal motioned her forward.

She turned back after a couple steps. “It’s just that until they’ve experienced fatherhood, most men haven’t tapped into their feminine side.”

He smiled benignly.

She placed her gargantuan bottle of multi-colored bath beads on the counter and told the clerk, “I need White Shoulders.” While the clerk unlocked the case, the woman added a Chapstick from the basket next to the register and rummaged through the discount earrings. Impulse marketing at its best.

“Is that all for you?” The young clerk scratched her cheek with a blue plastic fingernail.

“I guess so.” The pink face lingered on a pair of orange loops large enough for aboriginal ritual use. She glanced back at Cal, and he shook his head. Sighing, she dropped them back. “Well, bye now.” She at last made room for him at the counter.

Cal faced the clerk. “What’s the nicest fragrance you have?”

“Eau de parfume?” She tapped a blue staccato on the counter.

“Do you have real perfume?”

“Eau de toilette and eau de parfume.”

“Okay. What do you like?”

“I like Obsession.” The blue stud through her tongue made her lisp it.

Obsession. Not exactly the message he wanted Laurie to get.

“Anything else?”

“Estée Lauder’s Beautiful is the most popular.” She reached into the case, sprayed a sample of it, and sniffed.

Cal sniffed too. Not bad, though it was only fifty-fifty that Laurie would accept it anyway. Still, Beautiful seemed a better fit. “I’ll take that one.”

The girl reached into the case. “Big or little?”

“Little. She might be more inclined to accept it.” He smiled, paid, and headed out.

He arrived at Laurie’s door with snow up to his ankles from the unshoveled walk. Tucking the bag under his arm, he rang. Maddie pulled open the door and, to her credit, did not scream and run.

“Your mom home?” he asked.

She did, however, close the door in his face.

Laurie sat at the potter’s wheel with the spinning terra-cotta clay between her hands. She had a good center; it spun with almost no wobble at all. Surprising, given how long it had been since she’d thrown. Digging in her thumbs, she formed the mouth and drew up the sides, once and again.