Ruff Around the Edges

by Roxanne St Claire

  He tried not to inhale.

  “You really don’t want this thing to come off,” he said, fighting the tight weave of the fabric. “Can I cut it?”

  “Nope, we can’t afford new aprons.”

  “All right, hang on.” He had to crouch down lower, close to her back and rear end, clenching his jaw so his body didn’t go into desperate teenage-boy mode. Her back was narrow, the cotton of her T-shirt clinging to every curve and sweet muscle.

  “Aidan, what are you doing?”

  Admiring the landscape. “A really lousy job of undressing you,” he joked, making those muscles tighten with a quick laugh. Finally, he got a hold of the string and pulled it through the knot, reluctantly standing to turn her back around.

  But then he got slammed again by the brightness in her eyes and the soft flush in her cheeks.

  Uh oh. They were both…what had she called it? Feeling things.

  “You get the dog,” he said, his voice husky and thick.

  She held his gaze for a second, no warning or fear or anything he could interpret in that look. Except…yeah. Things.

  “Okay,” she said, taking off her apron as she rushed out.

  As he took off his own apron, he looked skyward and pictured Charlie. “I gave my word, dude.”

  And that should be enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  Less than twenty minutes later, after a ride in the open-air Waterford Jeep with Ruff happily bounding from one side of the backseat to the other, Aidan pulled up to a simple two-story tract home in Pine Woods Grove, a place he’d been to a thousand times in high school.

  Beck unlatched her seat belt and turned to Ruff, who, as always, ignored her.

  “You want to go in and warn Mike that we’re here?” he asked. “See how he’s feeling?”

  She thought about that, then shook her head. “I think we should surprise him. Anything to kick some life back into him.”

  “Only if you’re sure. I mean, he can talk and everything, right? He’s responsive?”

  “If he wants to be. But he claims to forget things. Simple things like words or names of movies or even what month it is. The doctor said that’s temporary. His stroke was on the right side of his brain, so left functions were the most affected, like the use of his arm, his facial muscles, and logic, reasoning, and words.”

  Aidan nodded, aching for the old man.

  “But creativity and emotion are on the other side, and they shouldn’t be affected,” she added brightly.

  “Then let’s go make him happy and remember how creative he is.” They got out, and he leashed Ruff. “You have got to be good,” he said sternly, taking the dog’s face in his hand to make his point. “No crap out of you, hear me?”

  He gave a few quick barks as if to say, Who, me? Crap from me?

  “I mean it. Do it for Charlie.”

  His ears perked at the name, as they always did. Aidan had stopped saying it to him because it was clear that Charlie didn’t mean Charlie is here. Even now, after all these months, Ruff missed his real master.

  “I miss him, too,” Aidan said, adding a good neck rub to ease the disappointment. “But you gotta man up now and be perfect. ’Kay?”

  One more bark gave him hope, so he walked around the Jeep to meet Beck.

  “I think I should hang on to his leash,” Aidan said. “In case he goes ballistic.”

  She agreed, but bent over to pet him. “He’s a good boy. Good boy.”

  And Ruff looked away, which gave Aidan an unexpected kick in the gut. “Come on, Ruffer,” he said in a harsh tone. “Give the girl a break.”

  “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “He’ll come around.”

  “Unless you get tired of trying.”

  She looked shocked. “I will not ever stop trying to win him over.”

  He put his free hand on her back. “Charlie would be proud of that attitude,” he said softly. “I’m sorry that Ruff keeps rejecting you.”

  “Are you?” She nudged him with her elbow to turn the question into a tease. “Or are you feeling smug that he only loves you?”

  “Maybe both,” he admitted.

  That made her laugh as they reached the door. She unlocked it and went in first, gesturing for him to follow with Ruff. He did, but two steps inside and he had to stop. The faint scent of something like cinnamon and coffee, and the sight of a familiar blue sofa in the living room on the right, and on the left a formal dining room that was more of a catchall for business files than a place to eat, stopped him cold. The gray slate floor, the wooden staircase railing, the light coming from a long, warm kitchen that ran along the back of the house…it all crashed over him with memories of teenage years and Charlie.

  Even though his best friend had lived here for only about three years before they went to college, Aidan was transported to the past, to the anticipation of a high school baseball game or a night out with girls they’d met from Chestnut Creek or Holly Hills. He slipped back to the laughs, the video games, the sheer comfort of hanging out with his best friend.

  He tried to shake off the punch of grief, but Ruff pulled him hard, barking and sniffing with intention.

  “Oh God, please don’t pee on Aunt Sarah’s floor,” Beck said in a harsh whisper.

  “No, that’s not a pee sniff,” Aidan said, transferring his attention to the dog. “He smells something.” Maybe the same thing Aidan did—memories of a good friend.

  Ruff pulled him to the steps, sniffing furiously, nose in every corner and against the carpet.

  “Or someone,” Beck said softly, looking up at Aidan as she came to the same conclusion. “Is that possible?” she asked. “After all these years, can he smell him?”

  Charlie had been home many times on leave in the last decade. And who knew if her aunt had dragged belongings up and down the stairs recently?

  “Dogs’ noses are amazing things.” Ruff yanked him up the stairs, and Aidan gave Beck a questioning look. “Can we?”

  “Yes, that’s where Uncle Mike is. Top of the stairs on the right.”

  Ruff bounded up, adding a bark, stopping to sniff at the top stair, then made a sharp left into the hall, heading straight for Charlie’s door. He stuck his nose in the corner of the closed door and all but ate the paint off of it.

  “Oh.” Beck put her hand on her chest. “He does smell Charlie.” She reached to pull Ruff back from the door. “I don’t think you should go in there.”

  Aidan clipped his hand around Ruff’s collar to hold him back. “Come on, Ruff.” But he fought hard, sniffing and barking.

  “Wha’s all da ruckus?” The gruff voice broke over the noise, making Aidan turn and finally quieting Ruff.

  A man he barely recognized stood in the doorway down the hall, wearing pajamas, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking up straight, his left arm dangling at his side.

  Good God, he looked half dead.

  “Mr. Leone,” Aidan said, stepping forward, holding the leash so Beck could take it from him. At that moment, everything was silent, even Ruff. Thanking God for that gift, Aidan closed the space and stopped just short of a manly embrace. “I’m Aidan Kilcannon. Do you remember me?”

  Mike stared at him, his expression blank, no warmth or response in his gray eyes. “No.”

  “Of course you do, Uncle Mike.” Beck came closer to where they stood, putting a hand on her uncle’s shoulder. “Aidan was Charlie’s friend in high school. And this is Charlie’s dog, Ruff.”

  “Aid’n.” His voice was little more than a gravelly struggle. Then he looked down at Ruff, and only then did Aidan realize the leash was loose. And Ruff was down on the ground, head flat, as close to submissive as Aidan had ever seen him.

  He glanced at Beck, who looked as stunned as he was.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Aidan said. “This is Ruff.”

  “Charlie found this dog in Afghanistan, Uncle Mike.” Beck eased down to pet him, and for once, he let her. “Aidan brought him back for me,” she said, looking up with sheer joy o
n her face. “And I’m so glad.”

  Aidan smiled at her and the animal who’d suddenly transformed. It was like Mike had some supernatural dog-whispering capabilities, because Ruff didn’t so much as bark. He stayed low, waiting for a command.

  “Do you want to get back in bed, Uncle Mike?” Beck asked, standing up to give the same kind of loving attention to the older man.

  “With the dog,” he said.

  Beck chuckled. “We might push Aunt Sarah right over the edge if we do that.”

  “Bring him.” Uncle Mike turned toward his room, giving Aidan and Beck a moment to exchange looks of total bewilderment. After a second, she shrugged, and they followed, including Ruff, who trotted into the room, leaving the scents of his former owner behind.

  Mike got himself into a large recliner that was positioned so he could reach a table with his right hand and also see a TV hanging on the wall, giving Aidan a chance to see that he wasn’t incapacitated completely. He was slow, unsteady, but Beck was right. With good physical therapy, this man could be back in the game.

  Yes, he’d had a mild stroke, but he was also suffering from grief and denial. It was almost like PTSD, which Aidan had seen. Something had to get him charged again. And once again, Aidan had that surging need of wanting to do something for Charlie, who had deeply loved his uncle.

  “Come!” Mike ordered, patting his thigh with his good hand.

  Instantly, Ruff was up and over, sniffing at the pajamas, the chair, and the hand that stroked his head.

  Beck’s mouth opened to a shocked O shape. “How did you do that?” There was no small amount of envy in the question, but Mike didn’t answer her. Instead, he rubbed Ruff’s head, currently nestled between the armrest and Mike’s leg.

  “Goo’ boy,” he muttered, closing his eyes with each move of his arm. “Goo’ boy.”

  Staring at the exchange, Aidan dropped slowly onto a corner of the bed, trying to think of any time he’d ever seen Ruff that docile. Never. Not with Charlie, not with anyone.

  Finally, after a good long pet, Mike looked up at Aidan and gave a smile that lifted only half his mouth. “Always wanted a dog,” he said simply, the words slightly garbled but forceful enough to be understood. “But…Sarah.”

  Aidan nodded, some military training rising as he sat erect and faced the man. “Yes, sir. I grew up with a lot of them.”

  A tiny spot of drool trickled from the left side of Mike’s mouth, and Beck immediately reached for a tissue to dab it. Mike looked up at her, a question in his eyes.

  “Charlie wanted me to have the dog,” she said again, as if he hadn’t picked that up at first. “I’m keeping him.”

  He grunted and nodded. “Sarah said…bad dog.”

  Beck laughed again. “Ruff can be willful,” she said. “But you have the magic touch, Uncle Mike.”

  “Love dogs,” he muttered.

  “I know.” She took a step closer and crouched down so she was at eye level with her uncle. “That’s why I brought him in here today. Sarah said it was okay.”

  His hand still moved rhythmically over Ruff’s head. “I like this one.”

  “He likes you,” Aidan replied, noticing that Ruff’s eyes were at half-mast, content and bordering on ecstasy. “It’s like he was made for you.”

  “So, guess what Aidan is doing, Uncle Mike?” Beck asked, staying low to hold his gaze. As she looked at the old man, something twisted in Aidan’s heart.

  What a remarkable woman she was, he thought, suddenly struck by her selflessness. She was sacrificing everything for these people, wanting to do her best, trying to make the business succeed, and bringing this dog over just because she knew it would make her uncle happy.

  “He’s helping at Slice of Heaven,” she told him. “And he’s so good at making pizza, you wouldn’t believe it.”

  Mike eyed him. “How good?”

  “I learned from the best, sir. Charlie taught me everything he knew.”

  “Everything?” There was a strong and undeniable challenge in the single word.

  “The customers love his pizza,” Beck added, deflecting the question.

  “Do you love it?” Mike asked her, the question surprisingly pointed.

  She looked at him, silent.

  “Well?” he prompted, one bushy brow raised. “Then you can’t say.”

  Aidan leaned forward, confused. “You can’t say what?”

  “Bet she never tasted your pizza.” Another challenge, this one issued with force in his voice.

  Come to think of it, she hadn’t. There’d been two extra pies today, and Aidan had sampled both, and even Aunt Sarah had taken a slice before she left. But not Beck.

  “She won’t,” Mike said. “Won’t eat pizza.”

  “Uncle Mike.” She waved her hand to quiet him. “That’s not important.”

  “Crazy.”

  “The important thing is Aidan is teaching me how to make it the way he does, and that’s going to help the business so it’s nice and strong and healthy when you are.”

  “Can’t make it if you can’t eat it.” At the harsh tone, Ruff lifted his head, sensing discord. “Right, boy?”

  Ruff barked once and dropped his head back down. Aidan didn’t know what was more remarkable—the change in Ruff or the fact that Beck didn’t eat pizza. Was Mike serious?

  “I’ll figure it out,” she said vaguely.

  His hand still on Ruff’s head, Mike turned to Aidan. “How can she figure it out?” the old man asked suddenly, totally throwing Aidan.

  “Good question.”

  Beck narrowed her eyes at him, but Mike shook his head as if bewildered. “How can she figure out the secret ingredient if she doesn’t taste the pizza?”

  “Excuse me?” Aidan choked the question. Had he understood that? “There’s a secret ingredient?”

  “A secret in the sauce.” Mike’s brow furrowed, then lifted. “Sarah. Sarah is the secret.”

  Aidan and Beck looked at each other, both confused. Was this the loss of logic and reasoning she’d mentioned? Because, from what Aidan had discerned, Sarah couldn’t cook her way out of a pizza box.

  “I know how Charlie made sauce,” Aidan said. “I know every single step and ingredient.”

  Mike dropped back against the chair. “He was sworn to secrecy.”

  “Come to think of it, his sauce was better than mine,” Aidan admitted on a laugh. “It had…something. I thought it was technique.”

  “The secret wins every damn year,” the old man muttered. “But…” He shrugged.

  “You won’t share it?” Aidan added, really confused now.

  “I can’t,” he said, the words so broken that Ruff sat up and checked on him again. Mike heaved a noisy sigh and curled a thick finger around Ruff’s soft ear. He tipped his head, and his eyes filled with tears. “I forgot it.”

  “What?” Beck came closer to him. “Are you sure? You never wrote it down?”

  “Nope. Never told anyone…’cept Charlie.”

  “Not Aunt Sarah?” Aidan asked.

  “But you just said the secret is Aunt Sarah,” Beck said.

  He shook his head. “That’s all I can remember. That Sarah is the secret. Without it, I can’t make pizza. I won’t even try.”

  What? For a moment, he and Beck were dead silent, staring at him, then at each other.

  “That’s why you won’t go to PT?” Beck guessed. “That’s why you don’t want to come back to work? Because you can’t remember some ingredient so obscure even I don’t know about it?”

  He looked down, still petting Ruff. “If I can’t do it right…I can’t do it.”

  “But you would?” Aidan urged. “If you had the secret recipe or ingredient or code word?”

  The old man managed the closest thing to a laugh Aidan had seen. “Sure. Yeah. Probably.”

  Not much of a promise.

  “Then why don’t you get better so you can get in there and figure it out?” Frustration made Beck’s voice rise, but A
idan leaned forward, reaching for her hand.

  “We can help him,” he said. “We can figure out a recipe or ingredient. We can do it together, Beck.”

  Beck stared back at him, her eyes widening, then softening as the offer seemed to hit her heart.

  “Would you know it if you tasted it?” Beck asked Mike without taking her eyes off Aidan.

  “When it touches my lips, I’ll know if it’s my pizza or not.”

  They shared a quick nod of agreement.

  “On one condition,” Aidan added, directing the comment to Mike. “While we work on it, you do your physical therapy.”

  Mike stayed silent, his eyes downcast, but his hand stopped stroking Ruff’s head. Finally, he met Aidan’s gaze with an old, gray, watery one, but it was direct and unwavering.

  “I remember you now,” he said. “Used to say you were born in light. Lucky kid. Touched somethin’, and it turned to gold.”

  He smiled, remembering his childhood nickname of Golden Boy, which was for his platinum blond hair as a kid as much as his seeming good fortune as he got older.

  “And I’m going to touch everything in your kitchen, Mike, until we strike gold.”

  That brought a slow, crooked smile to the man’s face.

  Beck took her uncle’s hand, forcing his attention to her. “But you have to promise, Uncle Mike. If we find it, you’ll come back. While we try to figure it out, you’ll do physical therapy and get strong and get back into that restaurant. Do you promise?”

  He nodded slowly. “You have my word.” Then he gave a sly wink to Aidan, which told him all he needed to know. This man was made of the same stuff as Charlie, and his word was his word.

  They could do this. They had to do this.

  Aidan put his arm around Beck and realized that this plan meant more time with Ruff…and Beck. And that suddenly felt very right to Aidan.

  Chapter Twelve

  Beck closed the cover on her tablet and dropped back on her pillows, exhausted after hours of combing the Internet for pizza sauce secret recipes.

  Aunt Sarah had been no help at all, sadly. Yes, she’d heard Mike joke that “she” was his secret ingredient since they’d won the first Best of Bitter Bark award a few weeks after getting married and had won every year since. But she had absolutely no idea what this so-called secret ingredient was, if it even existed.