I gave him a glance to see he wasn’t joking like I thought. “Duh. It’s a dog.”
“Dogs and babies.” His shadow nodded. I focused on that movement, willing him not to chase the topic further. I didn’t get my wish, which was why they weren’t any better than wantings. “How are you doin’, Sissy? Bones seems happy.”
“Seems?” I latched on that questioning word, because seeming and being were as far apart as the poles were on a globe of the earth. “He’s not happy?” I needed him happy, because without him, I wasn’t the me I wanted to be. “Why? Did he say something?”
“No, honey. Not at all. What I meant to say is Bones is happy. Like you. You’re happy, too. Right?” How could he state and ask all in the same sentence?
“Happier than Tiny is.” I planted my toe and made a sharp turn up the walk towards Nettic MacNotNice’s house. Myron overshot the walkway by a stride, but he ignored the precise lines of edged grass dividing walking spaces from not, his boots making crushed marks on the lawn.
I stopped and stared at the black that would be green in the daylight. Grass, from wall to walk, and on to the drive. Grass everywhere, and not a single yellowed spot of claiming by a dog. Not a toy, not a stick, not a solitary indication the man had a pack inside this not-a-home house.
“Packs claim, you know?” Myron made the humming noise he did when he didn’t understand the shortcuts my brain made. “Like the club. You claim, and people know.” I turned and gestured towards the street, lined on both sides by motorcycles. “Anyone driving past knows you’re here, that you belong, that this place was made to welcome you.” Bones’ home had always been so, since the first time I woke in his bed. “The people claim, too. I’m Bones’, and he doesn’t hesitate to tell anyone, to show anyone. He pisses all over his property.” I shook my head at Myron’s hissing inrush of breath. “Not like that. No icky stuff. But if we’re in a group, I’m steady because he’s got me. Always. His hands, his side, his lips, his lap—no one wonders who I belong to, because he’s proud to have me. Proud that I own him back. Proud that I carry him on my back.” Receiving the “property of” vest had been a celebration in the club, and I loved wearing the heavy black extension of Bones’ love. I thrust my thumb over my shoulder at the yard of Nettic’s house. “This man,” the word came out garbled, nearly growled, “has dogs, but you’d never know because he values things more than beings. Tiny doesn’t belong here.” I shook my head. “No dog belongs here.”
“Ester.” Myron’s voice was low and aimed at calming, but I was about two giant mother-may-I strides beyond where that would work on me. “We’re here for one dog.”
“Tonight,” I agreed, because I’d already decided to talk to the rescue president tomorrow morning as soon I could get Bones to agree to be my voice.
The door opened at the top of the short stack of steps, and Nettic stood there. I didn’t give him the energy to name him, holding that back because the words I wanted to give him weren’t his to hold. I saw the weaving head of my friend behind him and waved, angling my gaze to the side, measuring. Just enough room. Dropping to one knee, I held out my arms and called. “Tiny, come to Momma.” The Dane wedged himself past Nettic’s hip, gaining momentum as his gangling legs came to agreement with what his head and heart both wanted, and then he was out the door and onto the walk, barreling down towards me.
Myron’s muttered “Fucking hell” from behind me didn’t count as a greeting, so I decided to do introductions later. First chore to tackle was getting Tiny safe, and making sure he knew he would always be thus.
“Come here, come here, come here.” Happy to comply, Tiny tucked his head at the last moment, slipping his muzzle and neck under my arm along my side, body curling around my front so his bony tail whipped at my back on the other side. “That’s my good friend, my boy, my sweetie. You’re safe, safe, safe. Always and forever safe.” Trembling and whining, Tiny hugged me as best he could while I crooned a love song to him, chin resting on his spine.
***
Bones
Myron chuckled as Bones stared into the study. Ester had laid claim to the room, dispatching Plowboy to gather blankets so she could build a nest. “The look on your face, brother.” Myron laughed again. “Priceless.”
“That is not a dog. That is a horse.” He should have known. He entirely understood the need of the dog’s owner to rename the beast, because from nose to tail the monster spanned the length of the couch upon which he now stood. Head barely lifted over the back, Bones saw how the dog’s dark eyes darted back and forth, first to Ester and then back to Bones. Goliath indeed. “What did the man say when you arrived?”
“Not a word.” Myron chuckled. “We were on the front walk, and she was ranting about claiming and pissing, and then he opened the door, and she was like, ‘Come to Momma.’ Swear to God, her words, not mine. Dog nearly took the asshole down trying to get around him and down to where Ester knelt on the cement. Whole way back, he was pressed tight to her leg. No leash or anything, and he stayed with her stride for stride.”
“Do you think the beast is safe?” Bones wished for Gunny; his advice would be valuable in this regard. But it was late, and even later in Fort Wayne. I’ll call him tomorrow, he vowed. “She’s so small next to him.”
“You ever had a dog?”
Bones shook his head. “Closest I ever came was when I was a child. I walked my neighbor’s dog.”
“Well, I’ve had lots of experience with dogs, helping Gunny and PBJ. Trust me when I say that dog is no danger to Ester.” Myron laughed softly. “Can’t say the same for anyone who might want to hurt Ester, though. Watch this.” Bones eyed the dog as Myron took a step into the room, watching as the head rose higher over the back of the couch. Another step, this towards Ester, earned a lifted lip, white fangs shining in the lights. “You watchin’, brother?” Myron didn’t take his gaze off the dog as he took a quick stride towards Ester, pulling to a stop when the room filled with a deep, dark growl, echoing off the walls until it had grown to a wild reverberation.
“Stop it, Tiny.” At Ester’s mild command, the dog’s ears came back up from where they’d plastered against his skull and he quietened, lip again covering his sharp teeth. She didn’t look up from what she was doing to the pile of blankets. “And that was mean, my Ronnie. Tiny’s not small in courage; he just needs someone to drive. Like I need Bones for…everything. Tiny’s not sure of you yet. Be nice.”
She stood and stared down, hands propped on each hip, head angled so the line of her neck was exposed, and Bones felt an overwhelming need to kiss her just there. He took a step towards her and the dog’s head lifted again, dark eyes fixed on him. “Hush, Tiny,” he said, not ungently, and earned a smile over Ester’s shoulder when the dog remained quiet as he made his way to where she stood. “My love, have you finished with the horse’s bed?” He gave himself one kiss along the back of her neck and then leaned over her back, head beside hers as he looked down. There were three blankets twisted and twined in such a way they wouldn’t separate even if the dog rolled in his sleep. There was a pair of Ester’s socks, tied in the middle, pink unicorns bright on the dark fabric. And there was a stick, one that already had deep toothmarks dug into the wood, even though he hadn’t seen the dog near where Ester had been working.
“He’s a dog.” She reassured him with a chuckle and then whistled brightly. The floor shook as Tiny’s paws came off the couch, padding their direction. “Not a horse.” The beast rubbed his side along Ester and Bones’ thighs, managing to touch them with what felt like every inch of his body. “He’s a good boy.” She caressed the dog’s head, then cupped his jaw and tipped it so Bones could see himself reflected in Tiny’s eyes. He towered over Ester, and even more so over the dog, massive as Tiny seemed. “Tiny, this is Bones.” Vertebra wrapped in thin skin rapped against the floor as the dog promptly sat on his haunches, tail blurring back and forth. “He’s mine.” She grabbed Bones’ hand and brought it up to just under her breasts, pres
sing it against her flesh. “Be nice.” She released the dog and pushed with her shoulders until Bones took a single step back, their feet now free from the entangling blankets. “Tiny, down.” The floor shook again as the dog’s elbows smacked hard, even through the cushioning she’d provided. “Stay.” A thin keening sound filled the air, and the dog’s head dipped closer to the floor. “Hush, you’re fine. You’re home, Tiny.” The sound ceased, and Bones saw the dog’s eyebrows tick up, eyes flicking back and forth from him to Ester and back again. “He’ll love you, too.” Another quick whine, and then the dog rested his head on the blankets, curling around to give them his back. “Jerk. You already love him.” One solid thump of his tail and then Tiny sighed without moving, the sound going on and on until Bones realized that wasn’t what was going on.
“Oh God,” he gagged out, wafting his hand in front of his face.
“MacNotNice fed him bad food. It’s not Tiny’s fault.” Ester didn’t seem bothered by the stench, something Bones couldn’t imagine. “It’ll get better.” She glanced up at him, a flicker of worry crossing her face. “It won’t go away. But it will be better.”
“You want to keep him.” Not a question, because Ester had already laid claim. Bones had never seen her as fierce as she’d been on the phone, dressing down some man because he’d called to surrender this beast. She’d held her own with him, eloquent and clear, leaving no guesses as to how she felt about the man. If Ester wanted this dog, and this dog brought out that kind of fire in his woman, Bones would never naysay her. “I hope you do.” He opened that door a little, giving her room to ask for what she wanted. What she needed.
“His needing is me.” She shrugged, the motion jerky as if her muscles tried to block it. Head down, she played with Bones’ fingers, keeping them pressed high on her stomach. “I can’t say no to needings.”
“And neither shall I. Welcome to our home, Tiny.” Thump. The dog acknowledged Bones’ use of his name, ears perking slightly.
Chapter Three
Ester
“Nyeaaat.” I shook my head at Tiny just before he dipped his nose into the bucketful of warm water. It wasn’t that I was denying him access to water, but the silly pup would freeze his lips off when we went outside. “Come on.” I shrugged into my jacket and zipped it up before I opened the door, already shivering.
There had been a bitter turn in the weather the past two days, and I stepped in front of him with a shuffle, carefully breaking through the ice crust on the snow so he didn’t bleed a pad. The air felt soft, cold but expectant, like it couldn’t wait for the next layer of white to be laid down.
Already I could hear the rustling of wings and feathers as my friends crowded closer, ready to pounce on the water. In this kind of weather, water was harder to come by than a good feed, and I knew it well. The bone-deep chills caused from pulling body heat to melt even a mouthful of snow weren’t something easily forgot. Tiny bumped me from behind, jostling the bucket with his head, trying to angle around the side. He wanted to get his zoomies on, muscles twitching with excitement. I stopped and stepped to my right, protecting the bucket as I gave him a clear path towards the back of the yard. “I can’t save you from yourself,” I reminded him. He wouldn’t wear the booties Bones had bought him, used the edges of his front teeth to tease them off his toes, which meant he’d be barefooted on the ice and snow.
Bones. I shook my head. That had been a surprise. He’d bonded with Tiny quickly, starting from that first night. Bones had slept restlessly, and I’d woken the next morning to him already out of bed and dressed, muttering about some old lady who’d fed her dog better than she ate, and how Tiny had deserved better than MacNotNice. My name for the turd button, not his.
An hour later, Kevin showed up at Bones’ home, coming inside with a knock and a yell, like he always did when he was Road Runner. Tiny roared his roar at him, and Kevin quickly dominated, making Tiny feel safe enough to lie by me. Bones had been on the phone, asking questions, and his ignoring for the call had driven Kevin to resorting to come and talk to me. What I didn’t know until later was Bones had been calling the owner of a pet store nearby, having gotten his number from Ronnie, and dialed the man out of bed. Kevin, as Road Runner, had driven with Bones to the store that morning, coming back with a mass of things Bones determined were necessary to be a good pup dad.
So now Tiny’s toots were less blistering, and he was the proud owner of two gigantic beds, a raised food and water dish, and enough toys to keep an entire pack amused.
I stopped and watched as the gangling dog, well past puppyhood, dashed out and across the hard surface of the snow. He was hilarious, trying to play as if he didn’t weigh as much as a moose. With the enormous mass of his body stopping about as well as a car without brakes, I watched while his rear end actively slid out from under him. I laughed hard when he went chest-down to the ice, spinning in a slow circle as he slipped downhill, the shock on his face comical. “Ridiculous looks good on you, Tiny.”
Moving slowly, giving him time to recover from his embarrassment and collect his splayed legs, I watered in the shallow bowls I’d brought out for this. It was so cold there was only one brave bird that attempted a bath, giving up quickly and hopping his way to the edge, sitting there looking miserable and wet, shivering violently. “Silly,” I murmured and picked him up, putting him inside my jacket to let him warm up. Feed was next, and the flock followed me closely, making swiping runs at the seed that dribbled out of my dipper.
Bones had asked me that first fall why I stopped feeding the birds at the end of summer. For those summertime birds, it could be a matter of life or death, easy food tempting them to stay until the winter window closed on migration. He’d understood that well enough, but then called me to task when I resumed feeding just before Thanksgiving, a few days after the first real snow hit.
“People are fickle,” I muttered. When it was cold out, it became harder to find filled feeders, or fresh, unfrozen water.
Those who’d tempted the flying beauties that surrounded me now had lost faith, their efforts abandoned for the warmth of their own homes. These birds would struggle, and many wouldn’t see the spring, but if I fed them, then a few more would make it through. Stronger, smarter, and a better addition to the gene pool.
A gray nose popped into view, sniffing at the seed. Tiny jerked back when a small titmouse pecked at him, then came back, snuffling again. I stifled a laugh when the bird hopped on top of his head, balancing against the bend of one enormous ear. Tiny’s eyes were big and round, rolled up in his head as if he could see through the roof of his mind. I snorted at the absurd look he wore. Surprise and worry, and a little bit of pleased. “You made a friend.” It reminded me of Crowder’s original attempts, hands out, mouth wide when the first tiny claws wrapped around his fingers. He’d been the same as Tiny, and I’d loved him for it. “You’re a goof.”
I reached out and gathered the bird in my hand, cradling him to my face for a quick ruffled feather touch. A stirring near my chest reminded me, and I brought out the now-dry and warm daredevil, setting both on the platform of a feeder. “Be good.” They ignored my admonishment, immediately arguing about something. I shook my head.
Back inside, Tiny waited patiently for me to wipe his feet, and didn’t even whine when I inspected to be certain his paws didn’t harbor any scrapes from playtime. Once I was done, though, he was off. Head and tail up, feet pounding the floor in an urgent rhythm, he aimed arrow straight for the study where Bones was with Shades. I waited, listening, because unless they had locked the door, they were about to be interrupted.
Tiny pawed at the door twice, and when no one immediately opened it for him, he nosed the doorknob. I heard teeth on metal, and then a clinking crunch as he fitted his mouth to the grooves he’d already bent into the knob, twisting his whole head to get at his man. Pain gouged through my throat, closing all the air in my lungs for a moment. His daddy.
It was like a sickness how the aching came on me somet
imes.
I’d believe myself past the worst of it, like the fever or weakness from the flu, and then I’d round a corner and the knowledge would smack me down. I’d been on my knees for weeks, months, thirteen of one and three of the other. “He’d be the best.” Bones was made to be a father. Patient and loving with me, no matter how inside myself I folded. I’d seen it with the kids around the club, too. He looked at them with such longing at times, and then his gaze would come to me and land with a hollow thud, like I’d sucked all his dreams out of his heart.
I wanted to give him a tiny human. A being outside myself that he would love. Broken and useless inside, all I could grant were holes. Holes in his life where he could have been with someone else. Saying that was not smart, though. And I liked to think I’d gotten a slight bit smarter over the time I’d known him. Saying that to Bones had earned me somber lectures, brooding looks, and wounded sounds as he tried to reassure me. I knew. In my heart inside my chest, I knew he loved me. Loved me, not some made-up woman who wouldn’t be broken. He loved me, and together we fit in a way no one else could.
We just couldn’t fill in the rest of the breaks, because there’d be no tiny human for me.
So I’d worked hard and shoveled other things into the holes, fast as I could. If he didn’t see how it hurt me, then he settled, and I liked Bones settled. He had enough in his life to worry about without me adding even more to that. I tackled the shelter’s rescue dogs, making sure to let him see the true joy it handed me. Dogs in and out of the kennel at the rescue—most were breeds hard to place, and I was good at matching them with people. I set aside the disaster of Tiny and MacNotNicerson, since I figured Tiny was always meant to be here with us. With me. With Bones.
Christmas Doings Page 4