by Suzie Carr
“There’s no way. Absolutely no way.”
The woman had her complete attention. “We can bring her into a private room. We have a back door.”
“You don’t understand.” Fear laced the tiniest specs of gold in her irises. “She’s a beast.”
“A beast,” Marie repeated in case Jacky didn’t hear it the first time around.
“She is. Seriously.” Panic surfaced. “It’ll be irresponsible for me to walk through those front doors with her.”
Marie cleared her throat. “House call,” she said under her breath.
Jacky’s intrigue intensified. “What kind of dog is she?”
The woman shrugged. “A feisty one, I guess?” She twirled her finger around a lock of her hair.
“Feisty,” Marie said. “That’s your specialty.”
“I’m sorry,” Brooke said. “I have no idea what kind she is. My grandfather found her and neither one of us could stomach the idea of putting her in a shelter to wait for adoption. So I adopted her myself. I have no idea what kind of baggage she carries. A lot, I can tell you. Poor thing wants to be happy. She just gets protective. I’m the one who’s supposed to be protecting her, right? I’m just out of my realm. I need help.”
“Like music to the ears,” Marie muttered just loud enough for Jacky to hear her.
She did enjoy being needed. Training gave her purpose. When she helped a dog, her balance shifted, as if the help earned her points toward redemption.
Jacky picked up one of her business cards and a pen, then thumbed through her appointment book. “I can do a house call tomorrow and evaluate.”
A shade of pink rose on Brooke’s smooth skin. “House call? Yes. A house call is perfect.”
“I’ve got an hour tomorrow morning at ten.”
“Ten o’clock. Perfect.”
“Okay. Ten o’clock on the dot, right?”
“Of course,” Brooke nodded. “Ten o’clock on the dot.”
Jacky wrote the appointment on a card, circling the time slot not once, but four times. “Also, can you jot down your address?” She handed her a blank piece of notepad and a pen.
She jotted it down, and placed a smiley face at the bottom. She pushed it in front of Jacky. “My house is the carriage home. You’ll have to drive past the main house to get to it. I apologize because the driveway is very narrow and filled with potholes from this last winter. Just park right out front. Please don’t ring the doorbell, though. I’ll come out to greet you.”
“Sounds like a plan. Just please don’t be la–”
“She won’t ring the doorbell,” Marie interrupted. “She’ll be waiting outside at ten o’clock sharp. So, best not be late. She gets a little antsy at that.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dare do that to her again.” She tapped the counter and winked at Jacky. “See you then.”
In a blink, she bounced away.
The three of them watched her drift out the door and over to her silver sedan.
“Well she’s a cute little thing, isn’t she?” Marie elbowed Jacky. “Look at the way she’s shaking her cheeks, like she’s got a pendulum under that dress. I think she’s moving like that to get your attention.”
Jacky elbowed her back. “Every women who shakes her ass isn’t a lesbian.”
“She winked at you,” Marie said.
“She did wink,” Hazel said, nodding her head.
“You’re intrigued. Admit it,” Marie said.
“I am intrigued.”
A self-satisfied grin took over Marie’s face. “I knew it.”
“Intrigued over her beasty dog, you fool. Her beasty dog.”
“Uh, huh.” Marie chewed on a piece of gum and blew a bubble. It smacked on her face. She peeled it off and revealed the remnants of her self-assured grin.
“I don’t have time for this. I’ve got crazy-ass weirdo over here whose Chihuahua is afraid of the dark and Mr. Chigger over here who keeps growling at squirrels.” Jacky walked away from the desk, shaking her head.
“Fine, walk away and pretend you’re not blushing.”
“My face is red because you’re irritating me.”
“Is that why you’re shaking your ass now, too? You are. You and Brooke have matching pendulums.” She nodded. “God strike me down if I’m lying.”
Marie never lied.
~ ~
Later that afternoon, after the last training client left, Marie and Jacky picked up the yard.
Just as Marie reached down to get a ball, Jacky asked, “Can I say something to you without you getting upset?”
Marie stood tall. “Shoot.” She tossed the ball to the front of the yard.
“I know you were joking around today about the shaking ass bit, but I’m not ready to joke about things like that.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to upset you.” She frowned. “Can I ask you something without you getting upset?”
Since the accident, they danced around personal questions like a couple of clumsy drunks; teetering over a question, afraid to ask it, not sure if it would dig a little too deep and hurt.
Jacky nodded, not quite ready to articulate her approval of what would surely be a torture question.
“When will you be ready? I don’t mean that to sound disrespectful to Drew. I just wonder how you are doing with everything. We never talk about it. So, I figure now might be a good time.”
“I’m not ready to consider anyone else attractive. It’s just not something that’s on the top of my priority list right now. I’ve got Sophie to be concerned with and the business, and the house. I can’t go there. Even joking about it.”
“It’s been two years.”
“How many has it been for you?”
“This isn’t about me.” Marie pointed at her, like her superior.
“Why not? If we’re going to have an honest conversation about relationships, maybe you could weigh in on it a little too. I mean you never talk to me about your life.”
“You’re heading over to an edge that’s dangerous.” Marie waved her off and collected a pile of poo. “I promised Hazel privacy, and I won’t break it. Please don’t ask me to.”
The warning stopped Jacky. “Okay. Fair enough.”
“Besides, I’m okay. I’m happy. Any silence I keep is out of respect for someone else, not out of a lonely suffering.” Marie tore off her gloves. “But, you. I worry about you. That’s why I’m asking. If you’d rather not discuss, we can go back to picking up poo on opposite ends of the yard.”
Jacky glanced down at the grass. Many arguments piled up in her mind, ones that haunted her each night. How could she possibly explain herself when she didn’t understand either? “It’s not easy.”
“Talk to me.”
Jacky settled in for an honest confession. “I’ve been empty since Drew died, and I’m afraid to fill it with anything.”
“Because you want to keep hiding in the guilt.”
She sought out refuge in the horizon folding beyond the trees. “I’m afraid if I don’t, then I’ll lose sight of her loss.”
“You worry about losing sight of Drew?”
“I promise her every day that I won’t let her go.”
“Moving on doesn’t mean letting go.”
“It does to me.” She bent over at her knees, weighted by the drain. “You want me to move on. I see it in your face and can hear it in the way you breathe sometimes. Like, you’re just dying to shake me out of a funk. Two years seems like a long time, but it’s not. It’s two years she hasn’t lived.” She couldn’t package away the love of her life in search for joy after just two years. No. That would take her a lifetime.
“You’ve honored her legacy. No one will think you’re a terrible person if you lived your life now.”
“I’m not concerned about what others think. This is what I think.”
Marie slipped her gloves back on. “Fair enough.” She sighed and lifted a nearby shovel. “Let’s get back to work.”
Jacky gladly obl
iged.
~ ~
Later that evening when Sophie arrived home with just two minutes to spare before her curfew, Rosy jumped off the couch and curled up around her legs. She bent down and kissed the top of her soft fur. “Hi baby girl. Did you miss me?”
Rosy whined and dropped to the ground, begging for a belly rub. Sophie dropped her pocketbook and kneeled on the wooden planked floor next to her. She looked up to find Jacky sitting on the sofa smiling at her. Her blonde hair, freshened up with new highlights, hung in loose waves at her shoulders. She looked relaxed and at peace.
“How was dinner at Ashley’s?”
“Fine,” Sophie said, looking at Rosy again.
“Did Ms. Kate fix you pizza?”
Sophie shrugged. “We ate out.”
Jacky folded one of her knees under her. “Any place good?”
Sophie defaulted to Rosy for distraction. She ached to be able to plop down on the couch next to Jacky and fill her in on every last detail like old times. But, those times died. Instead of telling her about the amazing art sculptures she just saw in Inner Harbor, she settled on part of the truth. “Just a burger place that Ashley’s family likes.”
Jacky sat up straighter. “I have to meet up with a new client tomorrow morning. Do you want to go shopping for spring clothes after that? I figure we can hit the new Buckle store at the mall, then grab some burgers?”
Sophie missed their shopping sprees and the ice-cream sundaes they shared after each one. She’s your daughter. Not mine! “I have to work on my class project.”
“Take a small two hour break.”
“Can’t.”
Disappointment – a clever disguise for guilt – spilled on Jacky’s face. Sophie escaped it by pressing her face into Rosy’s fur.
“Okay, kiddo. So what’s your school project on?”
Sophie didn’t have a clue, and Ashley was no help. They were supposed to come up with ideas over the art sculptures, but Ashley got sidetracked by Gabe, their friend Missy’s brother. “Still deciding.”
Jacky gathered her magazines and stood up. “Okay, well, let me know if you want any help.”
“Okay.” Sophie peeked up from Rosy long enough to watch Jacky walk down the hallway looking worn and defeated. Her pajama bottoms dragged on the ground. She had gotten thin over the last few years, too thin. Sometimes she looked pale too, despite the freckles on her face. Sophie took a deep breath, releasing the tension.
She pitied Jacky.
That kind of pity could hurt Sophie, though. She needed to stay strong and independent.
She dragged herself to her feet and walked up the stairs. When she arrived at her bedroom, she closed the door to seal into a privacy she’d grown to accept as necessary. She opened up her drawer to the table she and Jacky had painted together one summer a long time ago, way before the shit hit the fan. Inside the cover of a Taylor Swift CD jacket, sat the letter. As she did anytime she wanted to get back to reality, she read it and let it sink in.
That letter reminded her why she needed to stay mad at Jacky.
Chapter Four
On a bright Sunday morning, Jacky pulled up to the tall, two-story Cape Cod house with a full wrap-around porch. A hand-painted sign stood prominently in the front lawn, Local Honey for Sale. A two car garage hugged the side of the house, its door open and revealing a four-wheeler, a driving mower, and an assembly of rakes, pitch forks, and shovels hanging on its walls.
A homeowner’s dream.
She veered past the home and down the pebbled driveway toward the carriage house. Jacky braced for the bumpy ride, gripping her steering wheel and gritting her teeth over every divot.
Once she cleared a bunch of tall trees, she got a better view of the fancifully cut wooden trim and scrolled brackets adorning the carriage house. Jacky marveled at the steeply pitched roof and decoratively carved gable trim. A wooden, picket fence surrounded the grounds.
As she approached, she noticed yellow and orange wooden boxes stacked up in rows way beyond the picturesque house. She lowered her window, and heard the faint song of birds echoing behind the frantic barks of what could only be the beast.
Jacky parked her car in front of the house. The barking grew more hysterical. She glanced to the front bay window and saw the fluffy, red-haired dog freaking out in classic over-protection behavior.
Poor girl.
She spotted the pronged collar and cringed. Jacky climbed out of her car irritated, bracing for what could end up turning into a wave of resistance from a defensive doggy mom.
The woman, Brooke, emerged from the front door sporting a look of relief, looking very much like she just climbed out of a train wreck and caught sight of a first responder sent in to save the day.
Okay, there may be hope for Bee after all.
~ ~
Brooke stepped out onto her front stoop and drew a deep breath, attempting to water down some of her nervous energy. Bee growled ferociously in the front window, wild-eyed and crazed, steaming up the glass with her stressed breath. Brooke’s heart raced, but she pressed toward the trainer regardless. Bee’s growl deepened as Brooke passed by the window.
Jacky shook her head and bit her lower lip, obviously frustrated with the scene.
Brooke strolled up to Jacky, attempting to be cool and collected. “Good morning.”
Jacky walked toward the side of her house, turning over her shoulder. “Let’s meet over here, before she hurts herself.”
Brooke walked past her mulberry bushes and toward Jacky, kicking herself for setting up the appointment. Four o’clock walks seemed like a much better idea than putting any of them through the ordeal.
She met up with her under the Dogwood trees by the fence. Bee’s bark intensified. “I’m so embarrassed. I’m the worst doggy mom in the world.”
Instantly, Jacky’s face softened. An empathetic whisper circled the blue of her eyes as she eased her posture, tucking her hands into the front pockets of her cargo pants. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Well, I guess that’s pretty good then. Well, I don’t mean it’s good that there are others who are horrible at being a doggy parent. That’s not what I meant.” She stopped and took a breath. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“I’m not judging you.”
Brooke saddled onto Jacky’s kindness. The woman’s light and wild hair flew every which way in the morning breeze.
“I admire you for adopting her,” she continued. “Let’s focus on that smart action.”
Awesome. Yes. Okay. Let’s focus on that. “I adopted her and saved her from, well, gosh, I hope not death. To even consider that some shelter might’ve put her down for being left alone, well, I won’t even go there.” Brooke exhaled. “My major concern is that I let this go on a little too long. I hope I didn’t destroy her chance at a normal life. Have I?” She braced for the honest feedback.
Bee’s enduring barks splintered through the cool, crisp morning air.
“You didn’t ruin her. In my opinion, no dog can be ruined, only healed.” Jacky turned toward the house. “She’s barking like that because she loves her mom and will do anything to protect her.” Her lower lip trembled in the cool breeze. “Obviously, it’s good to know she’s got your back.”
“Hmm. Maybe if I lived in the middle of a crime-infested city.”
Jacky’s lips curved up. “She just needs some direction.”
“Direction. Okay.” Brooke seized that recommendation. “We’re all yours, if you can help.”
“Don’t worry.” Jacky looked back to the front window where Bee stood on patrol, panting and pacing. “With some work, she’ll be just fine.”
“If you can help revive peace to my neighborhood, and of course to Bee, I’ll toss in a lifetime supply of honey for you.”
Jacky kicked around the rocks at her feet, and glanced up at her. “My daughter and I love honey, maybe just about as much as we love dogs.”
“How many dogs do you have? Like ten?”
Jacky lau
ghed. “Just one. Her name’s Rosy and she rules the house.”
“I bet she’s perfect.”
Jacky laughed again, tilting her head back and exposing her long, sleek neck. “Rosy is nearly as perfect as they come, except when someone opens a jar of peanut butter and doesn’t offer her any.”
“Entitled, huh?” Brooke cocked her head, sounding a wee bit too flirty.
“Yeah.” Jacky stretched her ear toward the house. “Hey, someone gave up.”
Brooke listened. Amazing. “She normally fights it for an hour when someone is in her domain. It’s gotten to a point where we can’t conduct tours of the apiary without one of us staying in the house with her behind a closed window shade.”
“Is she good with your children?”
“My children?”
“Sorry, I just assumed when you said one of us.”
“I’m terrible training my dog, imagine a child?” Brooke laughed. “I was talking about my grandparents. They live in that giant spectacle of a house in front.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s too big. I mean look at the height of it. My grandfather still climbs double ladders to clean the gutters. My grandmother stands at the bottom of the ladder and cringes every time.” Brooke tapped her hand to her chest. “But, it keeps him young.” Brooke stopped talking. She needed to stop rambling. Jacky’s polite interest would last only so long.
Jacky glanced at the house. “It’s like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.”
“My grandfather was born and raised in it.”
Jacky now shifted her gaze to the hives. “What are those boxes?”
“Those are hives for honeybees. I manage over one hundred and fifty of them.”
“Ah. It’s a honeybee haven.” Jacky dipped her head. “Hence the name Bee.”
“Yes, indeed.”
“How is she with the bees?”
“Remarkably undeterred. She knows they’re part of the family. Put a squirrel or fox back there though and she’ll chase it away much like she wanted to chase you away a second ago.” Brooke laughed.