by A R Kennedy
“Ma’am?” he asked. “Ma’am, are you alright?”
She looked around. There was a lot of red. Blood, she thought. It must be blood. Ferris licked her on the face again. She turned to face him. “Oh, thank God.”
“Ma’am, please don’t move,” the officer told her. “The paramedics are coming. Just stay where you are.”
She ignored him and pulled herself up and leaned against the kitchen’s island. Ferris stepped next to her and sat at her side. Cecilia pulled him in closer and whispered in his ear, “Thank God you’re alright.” She petted his head, leaving a trail of red on his golden fur.
“Ma’am, are you alright?” Officer Vincent Pugliese asked again.
Bright red blood trickled down Ferris’s neck. She knew it was not transferred from her and she gently pulled his hair away trying to find the source. “Ferris…I think he’s hurt.”
“But you, ma’am, are you alright?”
She inventoried herself. She couldn’t feel any pain. Truth was she couldn’t really feel anything. She looked around her kitchen and saw red all over their white kitchen floors, cabinets, and appliances. Then she saw a lot of blue as more officers ran in.
Officer Pugliese stood to attention. “He’s outside, Chief,” he said as an older man walked in. He pointed toward the backyard. “It’s the Gabbert kid.” Chief Holden Owens nodded his head, scanned Cecilia and Ferris, then walked outside.
Officer Pugliese used the radio clipped to his shoulder. “ETA on ambulance?”
The radio chirped, “Pulling up now.”
Cecilia’s head began pounding. She rubbed her temples and felt a wetness. She was still bleeding. Holding her hands in front of her, she marveled at the redness. Her blood.
Paramedics came running in. The officer directed one to Cecilia. “Where’s the other one?” the female paramedic asked. “First call said two at the scene.”
“Gone,” Pugliese answered.
Gone, thought Cecilia. She doubted the police would ever find him. She only hoped he never came back.
“Ferris. I think Ferris needs stitches.” Cecilia tried to pull herself up using the counter.
“Stay where you are, ma’am,” the paramedic directed her. He firmly placed his hand on her shoulder and she returned to sitting on the floor.
“He’s bleeding.” She pointed to the dog. “Can you help him?”
The paramedic looked to the officer for help. “I can help her. I don’t know what to do with a dog.” He turned back to Cecilia, peering at her forehead. He placed his bag on the floor and opened it. Cecilia watched as he put gloves on before attempting to place gauze on her forehead.
Cecilia swatted him away. “Please just help Ferris. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine, ma’am,” he told her. He reapplied the gauze. She tried to move her head away but a wave of dizziness made her stop.
When it passed, she reached in his bag for gauze. “Ma’am, please stay still.”
“I just want to help Ferris.” She placed the gauze on Ferris’s neck. He squirmed for a moment but then allowed the gauze on the cut.
Pugliese could see Cecilia’s increasing anxiety and the paramedic’s increasing frustration with her. Only one thing could stop both.
“The vet, Dr. Kinney, lives a few blocks over. The house with the big white columns, black BMW in the drive. Go get him for the dog,” Pugliese ordered a younger officer.
The other officer hesitated. “It’s three in the morning.”
“Just go get him. Trust me, the whole neighborhood is up.”
The female paramedic returned. Her partner looked up. “Yep, gone.”
Cecilia looked back and forth between them before returning her attention to Ferris. The female paramedic placed her bag on the floor and opened it. She pulled out a cuff and started to take her blood pressure.
Ferris placed his head on Cecilia’s shoulder and gently moaned. She took the gauze off and judged that the cut was clotting.
“Ma’am, you’re bleeding. You have multiple wounds. We need to take you to the hospital,” the male paramedic told her.
The female paramedic left and returned with a stretcher.
“No, I can’t leave Ferris. He’ll get upset,” she told him.
“What?”
“The dog, Ferris. He has anxiety. He’s been hurt. I can’t leave him. Joey wouldn’t want that.”
“Who’s Joey?” Officer Pugliese asked.
“My husband.”
“Where is he?” Pugliese asked.
She paused. Her head throbbed. Her kitchen was full of strangers. She struggled briefly for the answer. For the second time that night, she had to remind herself where her husband was.
“Dead,” Cecilia answered.
CHAPTER 5
At seven in the morning, Cecilia returned from the hospital. She was stitched, bruised, and exhausted.
She walked down the driveway to enter through the side gate, like she always did. Realizing she had no keys, she headed to the back of the house. The yard was now lit by the early morning sun. She tried to put out thoughts of the night’s attack.
Despite her pleadings not to be taken to the hospital, they had taken her. A doctor stitched her head wound and ordered an MRI. She was diagnosed with a mild concussion and sent on her way with several papers on post-release care.
She was thankful she didn’t have to argue with the doctor about being released. Her head throbbed and her body ached. She knew an argument with the doctor would only exacerbate both. She barely had enough energy to call for a cab to take her home, never mind an argument.
The sliding glass door was now closed but not locked and she slipped into her house. She barely took notice of the mess that her kitchen was in. Blood, footprints, dirt, more blood, and footprints. She was only looking for one thing.
“Ferris,” she called out. Usually, when she called out his name, she could instantly hear him. His paws would smack the flooring as he ran to find his caller. Any hesitation usually meant he had gotten into something he shouldn’t have. “Ferris,” she called again. Still nothing. Her calls became more urgent as she recalled the last time she had seen him. He was bleeding and moaning as the paramedics dragged her away.
She opened the front door to call out and found a note taped to the door from Dr. Kinney. Ferris was at his clinic.
She ran to her car before she realized she had no keys or purse or shoes.
Everything was where she always put it. Her purse hung on the hook and the keys were in the dish by the side door. Her run-around town shoes, gray boat shoes, were on the floor.
Before leaving, she double-checked that she’d locked the sliding glass door in the back and the front door.
As she locked the side door, she glanced down at her clothes. The blue scrubs they’d given her at the hospital were ill fitting. But it was better than the blood-soaked and ripped nightclothes with which she had arrived in the emergency room. The scrubs hung two inches too short and she had to cinch them in tightly at her waist. They were not made for her tall, slender frame. But the scrubs were all they could find for her.
Cecilia plopped in the driver’s seat of her purple Ford Escort. Her clothes might be clean but her hair certainly wasn’t. Matted with blood and dirt, it hung in every direction. It explained the odd look the cab driver at the hospital had given her when she got in. She didn’t have time to shower. Ferris had already been at the vet’s for hours and was probably at new levels of anxiety.
She hand-combed her hair as best she could, pulling the brown strands back off her face into a ponytail. Grabbing a hair band from the gearshift, she wrapped it around to keep the hairs in place. She leaned in closer to the rearview mirror. Bruises were already developing on her face and neck.
Cecilia backed out of the driveway. She drove to the corner, stopped at the stop sign, and realized she didn’t know where she was going. She had never been to the veterinarian’s office. She put Dr. Kinney’s name and Folley into her p
hone’s search engine and only one option popped up. She put the address into her phone’s directional app and waited to be told which direction to drive in. A car behind her beeped. She waved her hand in apology. In the city, she would have waved only one finger but Joey had taught her you didn’t do that here. Everyone knew everyone else in this town and everyone knew her purple Escort. She turned left as the app’s voice told her.
Five minutes later, she was at the town’s only veterinary clinic. “I’m here for Ferris,” she told the secretary. The secretary didn’t move or answer, just stared at Cecilia. “Ferris Chandler,” she clarified.
Cecilia looked around the office. The large waiting room was empty. She had expected a smaller office. Being the only vet in town must be good business, Cecilia thought.
Taking Ferris to the vet had been Joey’s job.
Now every job was hers.
The secretary still made no move to get Ferris.
“The golden retriever,” Cecilia added. “The emergency from last night. Dr. Kinney brought him in last night.”
“Ooh, you’re Mrs. Chandler?” she asked.
Cecilia nodded yes.
“Okay, let me get the doctor.”
She didn’t say she was getting Ferris and Cecilia became alarmed. “Is he alright? Is Ferris alright?” She tried, but failed, to keep the stress from her voice.
The secretary hesitated but answered, “Ferris is fine. Dr. Kinney thought he’d be with us for a while.”
She continued to stare at Cecilia as if something were wrong. Cecilia reminded herself there was plenty to stare at—developing bruises, a split lip, stitches on her forehead, ill-fitting scrubs.
“Go into exam room one.” She pointed to the room to the right. “I’ll get Dr. Kinney.”
Cecilia did as she was told. Waiting rooms always felt like a time stretcher. The minutes felt like hours. Finally, the door opened and the veterinarian entered with Ferris walking in slowly behind him. He slinked over and sat at Cecilia’s feet. He slowly slid to the floor. His head lay across her shoes, while his front legs splayed out on either side.
She got on the floor with him. “Is he alright?” Cecilia asked. She petted him gently and he moaned slightly.
“I thought he’d be here all day so I gave him a sedative,” Dr. Kinney told her.
Cecilia nodded, never taking her eyes off Ferris.
“A few stitches,” he continued. “He’ll have to wear an e-collar so he doesn’t scratch at them. The stitches are dissolvable. Bring him back in a week for a checkup.”
Cecilia nodded again.
“You sure you don’t want him to stay with us for a bit?” Dr. Kinney asked.
“No, why can’t he come home with me? He’s never not been home with us—I mean me.”
Dr. Kinney hesitated and tried to avoid eye contact. “Ferris shouldn’t be alone and I figured you’d be busy today.”
“Busy?” Cecilia asked. Her only plans were to lie down and try not to move. The pain was starting to set in at all her joints and her head ached intensely.
He shrugged. “Make sure he doesn’t touch those stitches. One of the techs will help you with him.”
A technician came in to put a cone on Ferris. Ferris’s only movement was his ribcage slowly rising and falling while the tech put the cone on him. The tech left as quickly as he came in and said nothing to Cecilia. She didn’t mind. She was used to Folley residents having little to say to her. At least he didn’t stare at her injuries.
She gently coaxed Ferris to standing, using his favorite kibble. A small bag of it was always in her purse now. She lured him out of the exam room and toward the exit. Every few steps, she’d give him one little piece. He’d munch on it slowly and she’d lead him a few more steps. Cecilia took no notice of the staff who stood watching her and her slow progression to the door with Ferris.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she got to the door. She could see the finish line, her car, on the other side of the door.
But she was stopped by the secretary. “Mrs. Chandler, the bill.”
CHAPTER 6
Then
“A thousand dollars!” Cecilia screamed. “A thousand dollars!”
“Calm down, CeCe.” Joey sat across from her on a stool at the kitchen’s island. He took a sip of his kale juice. Cecilia paced back and forth. “Please sit down. Have a glass of wine.” She knew it had been bad when he had come in with the bottle of chardonnay.
“You were all over me when I spent a hundred dollars on shoes.”
“They were two hundred dollars, CeCe.” She turned sharply and glared at him. “And I was not ‘all over you’ about them. I fixed them, didn’t I?”
Ferris had chewed off one heel of her favorite cobalt blue, three-inch shoes, the ones that matched the floral wrap dress she loved. She had sat on the front stoop an hour that day waiting for Joey to come home. When he arrived home, he was met with an angry wife, waving the broken blue-heeled shoe, while cursing his dog.
Fortunately, Joey had been able to repair the heel.
“You’re always going on about saving for a family and you spent a thousand dollars on the dog!”
“It was nine hundred and fifty-two dollars, CeCe.”
“It’s a thousand dollars on the dog!” She slammed the bill down on the counter.
“He’s part of the family, CeCe. Our family.” He reached for her hand. She started to pull it away but didn’t. He pulled her around the island onto his lap. “I’ll plump up someone’s bill at the job.”
“You would never do that.” She took his arms and wrapped them tighter around her waist.
“The rich ones would never notice.” She knew they wouldn’t.
“But you would never do that,” she reminded him.
“We’ll be fine. The business is doing well. We’re getting more jobs.”
Cecilia knew how hard Joey was working to expand what was once his father’s business. He inherited the construction company when Mr. Chandler died last year. Initially, he struggled for the town to accept him again. The prodigal son did not receive the loving welcome he had hoped. They viewed him with suspicion, fearing the years in the city had turned him into the city folk most of them despised.
Cecilia sighed as Ferris came over and rubbed his head against her leg. He sat down and looked up at her, waiting for a pet. “I’ll take the job Kenny floated last week,” she told him.
“You said you’d never work with them again,” Joey reminded her.
Kenny was difficult but he paid well and on time. “What are you gonna do?” She shrugged and relented—to working for Kenny again and to petting Ferris.
Content, Ferris plodded over to his bowl, hitting his water bowl with his left paw when he got there, spilling water on the clean floor. He slopped up water loudly. He came back over to the couple and rubbed his wet mouth against their legs. Cecilia squealed and Joey laughed. He petted him on his back before Ferris returned to his bed in the living room.
“What could I have done? I love him. I took him in, promised to take care of him. He was sick.”
“I know.” She turned to face him and planted a kiss on his lips. “You love me too, took me in too. Promised to take care of me too. If I got sick, you’d do what you had to take care of me too.”
Joey pulled away from her and tried to act repulsed. He suppressed his smile poorly. “What? Spend a thousand dollars on you? No way!” He laughed and pulled her in for a long kiss.
CHAPTER 7
Cecilia struggled to get the doped-up Ferris into the car. She regretted not taking Joey’s F-150 truck. He had a ramp Ferris could have walked up. Maybe.
But that was Joey’s truck. And it hadn’t been driven, or even touched, since its return to their garage after his death. She could barely look at it.
Exhausted, Cecilia rested her head against the headrest. She glanced at the full page receipt the clinic had given her. Emergency home visit, emergency transportation, waste removal, stitches, X-rays. The it
emized list was large, as was the bill.
She glanced back at Ferris before she started the car. He was sleeping on the sedan’s back seat. He remained sleeping as she carefully drove home, trying to avoid any bumps or sharp stops. She snuck peeks at Ferris when she could. He never seemed to move.
There was a police car sitting out front when she pulled in her driveway. The two officers got out of their patrol car, put their hats on, and met Cecilia as she got out of her car.
She opened the car’s back door and looked at Ferris, who was still sound asleep. She gently shook him to wake him. No response. He was breathing regularly so she didn’t become alarmed. Dr. Kinney had said he’d probably sleep the rest of the day.
“Good morning, Mrs. Chandler,” Chief Holden Owens said. The other man, Officer Vincent Pugliese, stood two steps back. He nodded a greeting.
She tried to smile but never took her eyes off the dog. It was late summer and the day wasn’t predicted to get hot. She might have to leave him in the car until he woke up. She headed to the garage to get a chair so she could sit by him.
“Mrs. Chandler, how are you?” Holden asked again.
She turned to face him. “Fine.”
“And the dog?”
“He’ll be fine. I just picked him up from the vet’s. He has some stitches.” Holden looked at the dog and thought there was more wrong with him than a cut that required stitches. “They gave him some medication. I’m afraid to move him.”
Her whole body hurt already from the attack. She feared the pain moving the seventy-pound dog would elicit.
Chief Owens nodded understanding and leaned into the car to take a closer look at Ferris. He reached for the dog and Cecilia grabbed his arm to stop him. “What are you doing? He’s hurt. Don’t touch him.”
Pugliese stepped toward Cecilia. “Get your hands off the Chief, ma’am,” he ordered.
She looked up at him, surprised. “Stand down, Pugliese,” Owens commanded. He returned his attention to the dog. Holden stroked Ferris’s golden fur and Ferris didn’t move. He turned to Cecilia. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t hurt him.” The gentle smile assured Cecilia that he was telling the truth.