The Perfect Disaster

by Abby Tyler

  Make a difference. Was that true? In the six years that she had worked as an occupational therapist, she never felt like she had done much to help any of the children in her care.

  The caseloads came and went, and authorizations were lost and revoked and reassigned to new people in an ever-spinning whirl of paperwork and faces. Ginny had seen only a few of the children make any progress at all.

  Much of the time she’d felt her job revolved around keeping the child on her client list, as much as actually creating a lasting change in their bodies or skills. With any luck, this would be a new start for her as well as kids like Mason.

  Chapter 4

  On Tuesday, Ginny had no idea what to wear to a meeting where a handsome football coach would help her tame a dog. She’d chosen her favorite tracksuit that morning, thinking she would wear it throughout the rest of the day and to the dog lesson.

  She didn’t want to change, since no doubt the whole town was watching and would think she had dressed up after school in order to impress him. But Ginny also didn’t want to read too much into this whole event. He really was just trying to help.

  But by the time Ginny got home to happy barks and licks from Roscoe, her outfit had to go. That morning, a preschooler learning to use a spoon had gotten applesauce all down one sleeve. Then she’d spent more time than expected on her knees trying to coax seven-year-old Anna to come out of a play tunnel, leaving dark splotches on the front of the pants.

  Since the training session with Roscoe would theoretically take less effort than an average day at work, Ginny slid into her favorite pair of jeans and a soft blue sweater. She rolled a light windbreaker into a tight bundle and stuffed it in the outside pocket of her backpack in case the weather cooled off while they were out.

  Ginny carefully stowed Delilah’s book, the treats, a water bowl, and all of the harnesses and leases she had acquired in the last few weeks. She still wasn’t brave enough to simply hold the leash as she walked Roscoe, so she strapped on the body harness and tethered the line between her waist and her dog.

  Roscoe was anxious to stretch his legs after being cooped up in the house. With Ginny’s wonky schedule, she only got a few minutes for lunch, but she was able to come home during the longer break each day to let him race around the backyard. Thankfully the school was close.

  But clearly Roscoe wanted more than the yard, even as large as it was. He tried to break into a trot, and Ginny gave him the command to walk. He didn’t know it yet, but they had to start somewhere.

  The tone of her voice seemed to register, though, and he slowed his pace. Ginny should have had a treat prepared for him to reward him for his obedience, but she didn’t want to risk trying to get one now. If he got too excited about the bag, he might jump her, or grab it and take off. Rewards would have to wait for a more controlled situation at the park.

  With a strong coach to help.

  Ginny’s inner tween giggled at the thought of meeting a boy. It wasn’t that she hadn’t dated before. She was twenty-eight years old, and there had been plenty of contenders. Just none of them had worked out.

  First had been Jake, a two-year steady boyfriend in high school. They separated when he left for the University of Southern California. A string of short-lived romances in college filled out a couple more years, and then she met the guy everyone thought for sure was the one. Matthew.

  They had dated exclusively. He would finish a year after her, so Ginny stuck to Chicago so they could remain together. She thought they had an understanding that he would also stay in Chicago for their future together.

  But when his graduation day arrived, he accepted a position in New York. He never proposed or even asked if Ginny wanted to move with him. And in the end, she didn’t care enough to pursue it. Her heart wasn’t broken, and that told her all she needed to know.

  Besides, Ginny had a job in her field, which was something many of her college friends struggled with. As they languished in retail or temporary positions, Ginny was hired by a therapy company that provided services inside homes, mostly to patients who were on federal assistance.

  By the time Matthew left town, Ginny had been with the company long enough to realize how much she loved working with these kids to help them make the most of their skills. But not long enough to realize that her caseload would never settle, and she would only be a transient influence on their achievements.

  Since then, she’d tried to fit in some dating with her exhausting workload and regular trips to Seattle to visit her parents. Mostly, though, she hadn’t found anyone worth breaking her routine for.

  Sometimes Ginny wondered if she’d made a mistake in not forcing a conversation after Matthew announced his new job. But that was long ago now.

  She was here in Applebottom.

  About to meet the football coach.

  Ginny turned onto the street that led to the park. She didn’t shift over to the walking trail, as she had done with Carter. Roscoe was too unpredictable. She’d rather not have their second meeting start off with another situation where she had to be saved.

  In his usual fashion, Roscoe half-pulled, half-dragged her from one interesting-smelling spot to the next. At least traffic in Applebottom was minimal, so their zigzagging across the street so that he could sniff or pee on every tree and mailbox post wasn’t something that would place her in mortal danger.

  As they approached the base of the hill that had caused her so much trouble three days ago, Ginny spotted a figure sitting at the peak. She was pretty sure it was Carter, his knees up, his elbows resting on them. He looked the other way, across the children’s park and to the lake’s edge.

  He was beautiful and strong and contemplative. Her heart sped up. Carly had said he hadn’t really dated anyone in the two years he had been here. Ginny wondered why. Maybe there weren’t so many prospects.

  Or maybe he had been waiting for her.

  Carter turned when a bark echoed across the park.

  Roscoe and Ginny climbed up the rise.

  The pair were almost comical. Roscoe’s head reached chest level on her. She was so petite, and her dog was monstrous.

  Carter stood up and dusted grass and leaves off his workout shorts. He hadn’t put much thought into his outfit, an Eagles high school sweatshirt and tennis shoes. Seeing Ginny’s pretty sweater and happy expression as she caught sight of him, he realized he should have at least put on some jeans.

  Too late now.

  “Carter!” she called.

  “Hey.”

  Roscoe bounded up to him, placing his paws on Carter’s shoulders. How did Ginny ever think she could control him?

  “Hey, Roscoe,” Carter said. “You look happy to see me.” He accepted several long licks, then grasped Roscoe’s paws and carefully set him down.

  “Down, boy,” he said. When Roscoe stayed down, he patted his head. “Good boy.”

  “I swear this dog behaves better for you than for me,” Ginny said.

  “What have you been working on with him?” Carter asked.

  “Just the basics. We started with sit and stay, because according to the book Delilah sent, those are the foundation of everything else.” Ginny grasped the tether between her waist and Roscoe’s harness. Carter remembered how she’d sailed through the air the first time they met and hoped they could get the dog on a normal leash soon.

  “Makes sense,” he said. “What should we do first?”

  Roscoe’s nose lifted, and he made a sudden lunge. Carter grabbed the tether and held it taut before Roscoe could pull Ginny down.

  “I say we work on sit for a while,” she said, pressing her hand to her heart after the close call. “He does it sporadically, as if maybe he understands what I’m saying but he just doesn’t want to do it.”

  “Sounds good.” Carter looked around. “Are we sure this is the best spot?”

  The broad view of the park, the water, and the trail probably wasn’t the best choice. Roscoe could get distracted by anything that approached fr
om any direction.

  “I know a place.” He gestured toward the trees.

  “In the forest?”

  “Something like that.”

  They descended the hill and moved into the tree line. The cedars stood tight and close until they reached a clearing with a cut path leading out the other side.

  “What used to be here?” Ginny asked.

  “A house,” Carter said. “One of the early cabins of Applebottom. It collapsed decades ago and they hauled it all out.”

  “Too bad it wasn’t preserved.”

  “The true originals have been. This was just one of the latecomers.” Carter laughed. “If you’re not born of one of the original settlers, you don’t count as a native.”

  “Harsh.”

  “It’s a fun bunch that runs the town. Delilah’s family has been here for three generations, and she’s still considered an interloper.”

  “Good thing I didn’t upset a true pioneer. Did they come on the Mayflower and hike over?”

  Carter laughed. “Everybody’s going to love you.”

  “Not if I don’t get a good handle on Roscoe.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  They stopped in the center of the clearing. Carter stepped close and reached for Ginny’s waist to unhook the tether. He caught a whiff of something light and floral, not perfume, but lotion maybe. He liked it.

  He wrapped the tether around his wrist. Ginny let out a sigh as if a great weight had been lifted now that he had control of the dog.

  Roscoe stood tall and alert, his nose lifted. The evening sun slanted through the trees, casting long shadows. In the circle clearing, the rest of the town completely out of sight, they could be the only three creatures left in the world.

  Carter might be okay with that.

  “You want to tell him to sit?” he asked. “See if it works?”

  “Sure.” Ginny turned to Roscoe. “The book said to always say the dog’s name first to make sure you had his attention.”

  “Give it a go.”

  Ginny looked down at her dog. “Roscoe, sit.”

  He didn’t even turn his head.

  “Try again.”

  “Roscoe, sit.”

  Still nothing. Roscoe took a step toward the trees on the far side, his attention focused on a bird flitting from branch to branch.

  “How well does he know his name?” Carter asked.

  “I thought he did. But my friend gave it to him. He didn’t have a collar or anything, so if he had some other name, we wouldn’t know.”

  “How old is he?”

  “The vet estimated that he was two.”

  Carter nodded. “Hey, Roscoe.”

  In true annoying-dog fashion, Roscoe turned to look.

  “Why does he behave better for you?” she asked.

  “I’m bigger than he is. It’s the way of the pack.”

  “So you’re the alpha.”

  He grinned at her and noted that she was staring at his lips. He itched with the temptation to kiss her.

  But no, they had to focus.

  Ginny broke her gaze and walked in front of Roscoe. “Hey!” she said, getting him to look at her. “Roscoe!”

  The dog tilted his head.

  “Roscoe,” she repeated.

  He sat down.

  Carter fought to control his smile. “He seems a little mixed up.”

  “So I guess I have to make sure he knows his name first?”

  “What does the book say about that?”

  “I don’t know. I just know that I’m not supposed to push on his butt to make him sit, or he won’t get it.”

  Carter frowned. “I guess we can just walk in circles. I seem to recall when we would walk PomPom, if he’d try to get ahead of us, Mom would stop and make him come back to us before we would move forward.”

  “PomPom?”

  “I didn’t name that one,” Carter said. “My baby sister did.”

  “Say it again.” Ginny tried to hide her open-mouth laugh behind her hand.

  “Say what?’

  “Your dog’s name.”

  He gave her a squinty-eyed glare. “PomPom.”

  She couldn’t handle it. Apparently the name hit her funny bone so hard that her whole body started shaking.

  “PomPom,” he said again, just to keep her going. “PomPom. PomPom.”

  Ginny bent over, clutching her middle. “Okay, stop! Stop!”

  “PomPom!”

  She couldn’t catch her breath. Roscoe realized something was up and began barking and leaping in the air.

  “You’re making him crazy,” Carter said.

  “Then…don’t…say…”

  “Say what? PomPom?”

  Ginny waved her hand at him. “No…no more.”

  Roscoe strode up and stuck his nose into her chest. He whined, low and concerned.

  “Okay, okay. I’m okay, Roscoe,” she said. “It’s all right.”

  She looked up at Carter, and he mouthed PomPom.

  “Mercy. I give. No more.”

  Carter couldn’t stop grinning. But he gave her a rest. “Roscoe,” he said, hoping to solidify the dog’s awareness of his name. “Roscoe.” He petted his head.

  Ginny followed suit, slowly regaining control over her laughter. “Roscoe. Roscoe.” She petted him, too.

  For the next several minutes, they only said the dog’s name, combined with lavish attention.

  “Maybe we should keep our talking to a minimum,” Ginny said. “Only say the things that Roscoe needs to hear.”

  “I think it’s more about tone,” Carter said. “Like we have this one sort of quiet way of talking to each other, and then we have the different tone of voice to tell Roscoe that we need his attention.”

  “That makes sense,” she said. “Because he’s definitely not paying attention to us now.” Roscoe’s nose moved from side to side, sniffing the air. His every movement caused a flurry in the trees.

  Carter couldn’t blame the other critters. He would be wary of a creature this size. “Roscoe,” he said firmly. “Sit.”

  Roscoe’s big brown eyes held Carter’s for a moment, then he turned away.

  “I still feel like that was progress,” Carter said. “He looked at me when I called his name in that tone.”

  “Roscoe,” Ginny said softly. He didn’t turn his head. “Roscoe!” she said in a deeper, more firm voice.

  Roscoe’s head whipped around.

  “He’s getting it,” Carter said. “Look at that.”

  The three of them walked the perimeter of the clearing, talking in a normal voice, then calling to Roscoe in the deeper tone. Each time Roscoe looked up when they said his name, Ginny fed him a treat.

  “That went pretty well, don’t you think?” Carter asked.

  “It was eye-opening,” Ginny said. “I won’t be taking him to Town Square anytime soon, but at least we can be sure he’ll understand when we’re speaking to him.”

  Roscoe collapsed in the grass. He seemed weary of his lesson.

  “We should get this big lug to your house,” Carter said. “How do you make him move when he doesn’t want to go somewhere?”

  “It hasn’t come up. He’s always eager to go outside and walk with me. Otherwise, we are very much homebodies until he is trained.”

  “Well, I hope we can get you out of the house,” he said. “The first home game is Friday.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be there.”

  “Then I’ll look for you.” The words were out before he could stop them. Were they too much?

  But Ginny simply said, “Okay.” She pulled a treat out of a bag and waved it at Roscoe.

  “Roscoe,” she said. “Come.”

  Roscoe took several steps forward so Ginny was able to lure him back through the trees to the street.

  “Look at that,” Carter said. “He can be bribed.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  They headed to Ginny’s house, side by side, the dog between them, and
Carter marveled at how easy the walk was. How simple.

  It felt right.

  Chapter 5

  Friday was more exciting than Ginny anticipated. The first football game meant a pep rally, so the elementary school sent all of their students to the high school to cheer the team.

  Ginny had dropped into the high school only once before school started, to meet the principal and the special education coordinator. The campus was short on space, and they hadn’t decided where to put her to meet with the teens who needed her on Friday afternoons.

  Just yesterday, she’d gotten word that she would be temporarily placed inside the boys’ locker room, which was unoccupied during the last three hours of the day when the girls took over the gym.

  Ginny checked in with the front office, and a friendly older woman brightened when Ginny told her she was headed to the locker rooms. She introduced herself as the school secretary, Sadie Cole.

  Sadie wore tons of bright jewelry that set off her pale red hair, accented with a bright red flower. She winked as she asked, “Hoping to catch a peek at Carter? How are the dog lessons going?”

  Everybody did know everything. “We’ve just had one so far. It went well, though.”

  “Delilah sure is hoping it will work. I think she lives in fear of you guys trotting down Main Street again.”

  Ginny’s cheeks burned. “I’ve been keeping Roscoe at home until I can manage him better. When we do go out, we stick to the park.”

  “I’m sure the two of you will get him in tip-top shape in no time. Do you know where you’re going?”

  “Not completely. I know where the gym is. I assume the dressing rooms are near there?”

  “When you walk in, the girls’ is the far left corner, and the boys are in the far right corner.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anytime!” She looked Ginny up and down, as if assessing Ginny’s ability to interest Carter when no one else had.

  Ginny did hope she bumped into Carter. They hadn’t set up a time to meet for another dog lesson, but they hadn’t exchanged numbers or anything either. Ginny had no way to reach him unless she went through the school. Which meant Sadie would know.