Rhett chuckled, despite himself.
“Sorry he’s on your bed. This is my room whenever I stay here. Fezzi knows how to open the doorknob with his one paw.”
Maybe it was the alcohol, but Rhett laughed. “No shit.” The dog thumped his tail, harder this time. Rhett reached up and petted his head.
“Yeah, Pete trained him, a long time ago, to do stuff for my dad. The doorknob thing wasn’t one of them, but Fezzi just kind of picked up on stuff on his own. He opened doors for Daddy when he struggled with his cane.”
“No shit,” Rhett said again.
“It didn’t even occur to me, when I gave you my room, that Fezzi might come in here. I’ll get him out of your way.”
Rhett leaned his head back on the mattress and appraised the woman in the moonlight. “You gave me your room, huh?”
Stanzi shrugged. “Cabins were full. I told you I’d take care of it.”
That’s the Stanzi he knew. Always adapting. Always finding a way. He wished he was still downstairs, dancing with her. If he’d had enough time, he’d have requested a salsa himself. “Don’t stand in the hallway.”
Stanzi hesitated only a second before she pushed the door shut and closed the distance between them. Her heels were missing, her feet bare, so her steps were silent as a mouse. She sank down next to him on the floor.
True to form, Stanzi didn’t ask any of the typical questions: Why are you sitting on the floor in the dark? What happened to Katrina? Instead, she was quiet awhile, perhaps absorbing the moonlight.
“My dad heard the spiders, too,” she eventually said softly. “He told me about it once, but only when he’d been drinking a lot of whiskey, which was unusual for him. And he’d only talk about it in sign language.”
Her words rippled inside him. At first, it felt like she’d poked the sensitive underbelly of the beast. That feeling changed to surprise. Then came the aftereffect—which Rhett didn’t have a name for—the recognition that Stanzi had not only remembered what Katrina said, but understood it.
“He said that sometimes, at night, even though he was partially deaf, it was like he could hear the dust in the beams. Or the spiders, talking in their corners.”
They were quiet again. “Well,” Rhett finally said, “that’s just fucking crazy.”
Stanzi, who had her arms wrapped around her shins and her chin on her knees, sputtered a laugh. She rolled over on to her back, clutching her middle, as she collapsed into giggles on the floor. Fezzi gave a soft woof of concern.
Rhett nudged her with his foot. “You’re scaring the dog.”
She kept laughing, until tears ran down her cheeks. Stanzi swiped at them with her knuckles, her chest rising and falling in gasps. Rhett hadn’t found his comment all that funny, but he thoroughly enjoyed watching her dissolve in front of him. The sleeves of her dress dipped down and the hem pushed up, which made it hard to divert his eyes. The room was dark, so hell with it. Rhett enjoyed the color of her creamy skin in the moonlight and the way the dress draped her legs.
Help her up, he told himself, but he just kept watching her, imagining the dress was gone. He held out a hand, she grasped it, and Rhett pulled her to sitting. He pulled a little too hard, and she fell against him, her hands planting on his chest. Her laughter died down but she still had a smile on her face. Rhett caught her wrists.
Stanzi’s smile slowly melted.
He loosened his grip, but didn’t release her.
For a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him again. Then she drew away and sank down next to him. He was both disappointed and relieved.
“Was that your girlfriend?”
Stanzi’s question marked the first official time that Rhett considered Katrina a buzzkill. “She’s a girl,” he said. “And she’s a... Well, I’m not really sure she’s a friend.”
“She wasn’t very friendly,” Stanzi agreed.
“I’m not feeling very friendly about her right now.”
“Though you usually do.”
He shrugged. “She fills a slot. Sometimes. The girlfriend slot. She travels a lot so we’re together when she’s in town and we’re not when she’s not. And we don’t talk about when she’s not.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“It can be. But I’m okay with that.”
“You’re all stressed out now. After all my hard work.”
“Half your hard work.”
Stanzi giggled and gave him a shove. “Do you want me to do your front? You can just lie down on the bed.”
Rhett rolled the evening through his head. Stanzi, in that blue dress. The good food. The dancing. He wondered if a massage to his front was the best idea.
“I’ll just work the leg,” she said, as though she’d read his mind. “Then keep you relaxed.”
There was no way in hell he was going to say no. “We only have the one room. If you don’t massage me, I’ll have to wrestle you for it. And that could be dangerous.”
She laughed and shoved him again. “C’mon.” Stanzi stood up and extended a hand. Once he was on his feet, she disappeared into the bathroom. Rhett stripped off his clothing and got under the bedsheet. The dog picked up one of his socks and sat politely by the side of the bed, sock in mouth.
“What?” Rhett adjusted the covers. “Why are you bringing me my sock?”
Fezzi whined.
Stanzi poked her head into the room. “Now that, he was trained to do. He brought Daddy his socks every morning. Along with other articles of clothing.”
“That’s amazing.”
“That’s Pete,” she said. “Fezzi. Drop it.”
The dog dropped the sock.
“Come.” Stanzi pointed at the floor in front of her, and the dog obeyed. “Down.” He lay down and settled his chin on his paw. Stanzi crossed the room, opened the drawer to the nightstand and withdrew a bottle.
“You have massage lotion everywhere, don’t you?”
“Pretty much.”
Rhett closed his eyes. The sounds of partygoers mingling in the cold out back, mixed with music from the basement, hit his ears. He hadn’t noticed those sounds before. The bed squeaked and dipped as Stanzi climbed up next to him. She carefully undraped his bad leg and started in on it, her hands cool, soft and professional.
Just like earlier, Rhett felt himself relax as soon as she touched him. His breathing deepened and his mind started to spin into another place, one deeper and softer than his day-to-day world.
Her hands moved in long, slow strokes, deep enough to get into his muscles but not deep enough to cause pain. There was something about him that moved with her; not a tangible part of his body but something connected, nonetheless, like she pulled on his shadow. When she’d massaged him earlier, he’d lain there, tense, certain that it would be just like lying in bed at night, with him unable to relax, unable to not hear every little thing, and the panic in his chest compounding with every second that he realized he didn’t want to go to sleep, because he didn’t want to dream, yet he didn’t want to stay awake, because he didn’t want to think.
Which left him nowhere to be at all.
But this wasn’t like that. Just like earlier, Rhett started to drift, soft and slow, until there were no more party sounds coming from downstairs, no chatter from partygoers out back, dancing in the moonlight or stealing cigarettes in the cold.
There wasn’t sound. There wasn’t silence.
There was just this.
It felt really, really good.
And not one spider was whispering.
twenty-one
Rhett was surprised to find that the dog rescue, full of dogs, didn’t smell like dogs. Sunny’s sanctuary smelled like pet food, old wood and dog shampoo. It was well made, clean and tidy.
“This is actually Roger’s place,” Stanzi explained. “He cares for all the dogs who don’t h
ave foster families while we try to place them.” She nodded toward the closed doors, which must have been Roger’s bath and bedrooms.
Many of the dogs were out running the fenced-in grounds, but many remained inside. Most of them were pit bulls, and they all had their own personality, but seemed to share a sort of calmness Rhett wouldn’t expect of this setting.
Stanzi nodded toward a small white dog, balled on a pet bed in the corner. “Maltese,” she said. “Her name’s Willy.”
Rhett stepped closer. Willy pressed herself tighter into the corner. Ah. A sweet little thing. Her hair all silky white and her eyes doe-y behind her bangs. “What’s wrong with her?” Next to her bed was a small, stone statue of a man. On close inspection Rhett could see animals carved all around his robes.
Saint Francis.
Stanzi shrugged. “Hard to say. By the time Sunny gets them, they’re all kinds of ruined. Willy came from the puppy mill next door. Though—” she lowered her voice “—don’t tell anyone that.”
Despite the sadness of looking at a dog like Willy, and guessing at her past, Rhett didn’t worry for any of these dogs. They were like a collection of geeks at a Star Trek convention—a bit misunderstood and left of center, probably picked on all their lives, but all the more interesting and colorful. Sunny wouldn’t give up on a single one of them. Rhett knew that, without having to be told.
“You help your sister with the rescue?” Rhett watched Fezzi hop around on his three legs, seeming to divide his time between overseeing the other dogs and following Stanzi wherever she went.
“I massage them,” Stanzi said, cocking her head to the side and smiling.
“Of course you do.” He still couldn’t believe how great he felt this morning. When he’d rolled over in bed, Stanzi had been gone, but he’d been able to get dressed without bracing his leg and felt almost pain-free. The best part was how his head felt, which was clear. Like he’d actually slept eight hours. He literally couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.
“I name them, too.”
“Really?” He gestured to the Maltese. “Willy?”
Stanzi giggled. “You may not think it fits, but it does. Just get to know her, and you’ll see. She’s a Wilomena. Willy, for short.”
Rhett shook his head. “Now, Wilomena I can see. You come up with a nickname for me yet?”
Stanzi twisted her lips. “I’m still working on it.”
“And this guy.” Rhett petted Fezzi’s ears. “You said he was trained for your dad?”
Stanzi gave Fezzi a fond cock of her head. “Yeah. Like I told you, Daddy was legally deaf. Fezz was his ears and also his butler. He’d bring Dad his socks and other clothing items in the morning. Daddy was a different person when Fezzi came around. Calmer. More patient.”
A metal crate in the corner of the room caught Rhett’s eye. “Who’s that?” He pointed to the furry form that nestled silently inside the cage.
Stanzi followed his gesture. “Oh, him.” Her voice dropped a notch in timbre. “That’s Humphrey. The beagle.”
Humphrey. The beagle. Well, true. Rhett hadn’t seen another beagle here. He squatted down to get a better look, but only caught a flash of a droopy head. “Why’s he in a crate?”
“His choice. You see it’s not closed. He prefers being in there. Makes him feel protected, maybe. He’s been stuck in one all his life, so... Old habits are hard to break.”
Rhett peeked inside. Humphrey was all the way in the back, his head sagging.
“He can’t see very well,” Stanzi said. “His eyes got burned from all the ammonia in the urine that built up in the cage he was stuck in.” She nodded toward Willy, who’d fallen asleep in a white ball of fur on her dog bed. “Same people had Willy. Cruel, nasty woman.” Stanzi peered inside the crate at Humphrey, who hadn’t shifted an inch. “People come here and want to adopt. But some of these dogs are just too ruined, you know? No chance left. Humphrey, he stays in here most of the time because the other dogs smell his fear and mess with him and then he fights back. It gets ugly, and Humphrey is too small.”
Rhett leaned against the wall and slid down until his butt hit the floor. A few of the dogs came over to sniff him. He petted them and let them smell all around, until they moved off to do their own thing. “Hey, Humphrey.” He hoped the pathetic creature would look his way.
“I have to pull him out of there to massage him,” Stanzi said. “After I get him out, I go slow and then he’s okay. But then he rushes right back in the cage.”
“I’m just going to sit here,” Rhett said, even though he had no idea why. He wanted Humphrey to come out. That’s all he knew.
Stanzi smiled softly. “I’m going to go check on Sunny. She’s in a mad storm of cleaning up after her party. I’ll be back.”
Rhett waited until she was gone, then leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and cleared his mind. He was hoping to feel a little like he had last night, during Stanzi’s massage. That sense of letting go, of release, of connection. He stayed that way awhile, focused on his breathing.
Then came a soft, scratching noise. When his eyelids fluttered open, Rhett used every muscle in his body to keep himself from reacting. Humphrey sat only inches away, staring at him from rheumy brown eyes. With his head drooped like that, his ears hung forward, he looked so much like the vulture persona Snoopy did in the old comics Rhett had to stifle a laugh. He suppressed the urge to reach out and pet Humphrey on the head. Any movement he made might send the dog back into his crate, faster than he could blink.
“Hey, old man. You come out to say hi?”
“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”
At the sound of Stanzi’s voice, Humphrey fled. With a wild scamper, he was back in the crate, nothing left to prove he’d been there but the sweet smell of his freshly shampooed fur.
“Shh!” Sunny, who’d come inside with her, gave Stanzi a nudge.
“Sorry.” Stanzi covered her mouth. Rhett stayed where he was at, on the ground, observing Humphrey inside his cage.
“Did I just see what I think I saw?” Sunny squatted down and peered into Humphrey’s cage. She turned to Rhett with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t pull him out against his will, did you?”
“I’m insulted.”
“Sorry.”
“All right.”
Stanzi laughed, but tried to stifle it. “I don’t even have words.”
Rhett cast a glance inside Humphrey’s cage. The little dog had tucked himself away as far in the back as he could go. “I thought he didn’t like people.”
“He doesn’t.” Sunny watched him in silence. She planted her hands on her hips.
Rhett rose to his feet and dusted off his jeans. “I should get home.”
“What did you think of the tour?” Sunny opened her arms to the rescue.
“I think—” Rhett looked around at this hodgepodge of dorky mutts, the special food, the carefully built and maintained structure “—that you and your sister are something else.” He glanced over at Humphrey. “What will you do with him? If nobody adopts him?”
Sunny shrugged. “We’ll keep trying.”
“Before you go.” Stanzi had a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Let’s be real quiet. Just sit in silence and give Humphrey another chance.”
Sunny gave a slow nod. “All right. But I’m stepping out. I think three’s a crowd, in this instance. Humphrey will never come out with this many heartbeats in the room.”
After she left, Rhett shrugged. “I don’t think he’ll come out again.” But even as he said it, he sank back to the floor and closed his eyes. Stanzi followed suit. At first, his mind chattered away with noise, the events of last night and all the things he wanted to do today, but then he thought about the massage, and his mind gave up on thinking altogether. His thoughts drained away like water down the pipes. He imagined his troub
les choked up before they let go, like that bubbly, sucking sound when the suds reach the hole in the sink. After that, it was a blank sort of bliss and random splotches of color and light. His body relaxed like a rag doll, and the peace inside gave him a buoyed feeling of being suspended in water or air or somewhere else he could become weightless.
After a while, Rhett sensed a presence, close by. There was a change in the air. Someone else’s breath. His eyes opened, and though the blissful feeling vanished, he couldn’t help but laugh under his breath.
“Aw, hell, no,” Rhett muttered, even as he smiled.
The little beagle was about a foot away from Rhett’s thigh and staring like a vulture as his ears drooped forward.
“Stay very still,” Stanzi said. “He likes that. Quiet people. Still people.”
Humphrey seemed to watch him, with those brown-tinted eyes. His black, tan and white coat looked a little dull, even though he’d clearly had a bath. His paws seemed bigger than usual, but that was because his body was too skinny.
Rhett’s gaze lingered on the dog’s feet. Humphrey’s nails were all pale, like a yellowed ivory. Except for the fourth nail on the right paw. That one was a reddish-brown color, like an extension of the few tan spots he had on his white feet. Like a shard of his clinging hope, or a tidbit of his youth, before life had been so cruel to him.
“Look at that,” Rhett said. “He has one dark nail on his paw.” Humphrey’s nose bumped Rhett’s fingertips. The little beagle inched closer. His paws nearly touched Rhett’s thigh.
“He bumped you,” Stanzi whispered. “I can’t believe it.”
Rhett raised his hand a few inches off the ground and extended it in the beagle’s direction. Humphrey stretched his neck out and bumped Rhett a second time.
“Wow,” Stanzi gasped. “He really likes you.”
“He’s not so bright, then.”
“He’s actually very smart.”
As if to settle things, Humphrey took a couple of steps closer to Rhett, then lay down on his stomach, on the ground next to Rhett’s thigh, and rested his head between his paws. There, he closed his eyes.
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