by Marta Acosta
I looked to the cloudless sky, a pure blue that made my heart ache and rejoice. “Of course, I care if only because it’s instinctive to care. I don’t want the self-appointed overlords to pillage the earth and its people for personal profit. They think they’re powerful—powerful over what and for how long? What do fortunes and armies mean in the big picture? What is human power compared to the might of even one hapless asteroid? Nothing.”
“Yeah, Claire said you were a laugh riot.” He flipped a finger.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, that I only loved Claire because she led me to Bertie, which is true. It’s not everything, though. I loved her because she was helping those veterans with her art, just like she’s always helping people. I know you’ve seen her with them. They’re either uncommunicative or too communicative and she’s...she’s Claire. She listens and makes comments in a voice like heaven and she’s so damn matter-of-fact... She understands people in a way I never will.” My throat began to close up. “She understood me. She’s impossibly beautiful, and I’m happy just watching the way she moves or sleeps or reads. She’s a wonder to me.”
I turned away to look at the grapevines, lush with new growth, and the brilliant yellow wild mustard growing rampant between the rows. Yellow and green like the plaid cloth by the Sherry Rae’s body.
A few seconds later, Oliver said, “Maddie, let’s get back. I have a softball game and I need to rest up even though I’ll probably sit on the bench. The team’s coed. I don’t suppose you play softball.”
“Of course not. I have terrible spatial perception and I get confused when people yell while I’m trying to focus.”
“You were picked last in the playground, right?”
“I hid behind the building to avoid rejection altogether.”
“You have speed and tenacity. You could have run track.”
“What in your experience leads you to believe that I play well with others?”
“And now you’re hanging with the captain of the varsity team.”
“What varsity team?”
“All of them, and I refuse to believe I’m insignificant and that life is meaningless. I think we’re all here for a reason, even you, Maddie Whitney.” He did an exaggerated strut for a few seconds, and I realized he hadn’t complained once although I could tell he was favoring one leg.
“Olly, now I’m the one who hates myself for asking, but what makes you so sure there’s a reason we’re here?”
“Because I co-existed with another soul before I ever took a breath.”
I thought then of Oliver and Claire swimming together in amniotic fluid, clumps of cells splitting and growing, developing consciousness, sensation, hearing, sight. “I wonder at what point in your life you realized you were a separate person.”
“The line is not set firm.” He threw an arm over my shoulder and leaned on me as we walked, and I smelled the clean citrusy cologne which reminded me of warm smooth skin and pleasure. “Don’t argue that it’s only biology, because that doesn’t make it any less miraculous.”
SINCE BEN WAS TRAINING a new kennel assistant, he was a little late. He carried a bag with a rotisserie chicken, sides and a bottle of wine.”
While I set things on plates, he gave Bertie a quick exam and said, “He’s coming along. Keep him from exerting himself for at least another week.”
Bertie lolled in a sunny spot on the floor, attentive to the food on the table. “His appetite is good,” I said. “He wants to carouse with the pack.”
“Don’t we all? Use your psychic powers to explain the situation.”
I put my fingertips on my forehead and grimaced. “My brain power cannot penetrate the force field the roast chicken is projecting over his gray matter.”
We ate and discussed dog business, Ben from the medical side and me from the behavioral side. He picked up the bag of cookies, opened them, and said, “Let’s go to the Stud Lot and talk.”
The days had grown longer and the sun was only now slipping behind the mountains. “I love this time of day and the color of the sky. I knew a girl who lived here, a hot little Chicana who gardened. Anyway, she told me this was l’heure bleu, the blue hour. She insisted I was a Latina and came up with El Professor’s name and back story.”
“Was she a girlfriend?”
“I wish. She dragged me off to a biker bar to dance once and flirted like crazy, but she was committed to penises. Penii? Which is it?”
“Neither. Penes, and the only reason I know that is its medical Latin. Are we going to start speaking in foreign languages, because I barely remember my college Spanish?”
We’d reached the plot with the broken folding table and chairs. “So, Ben, we are now on your property. What’s up?”
“How far do you think it is to the road?”
“A little over two acres to the north and three acres to the east gets you to the creek border.” I tried to be subtle as I twisted my shoulders one way and then the other.
“Ava and I have spent the last few weeks looking at houses and arguing about places where we didn’t want to live. We realized we could build a place we like instead of compromising or renovating.”
“This lot is too small for a house, Ben, and if you want to sell it to finance new construction...”
“Actually, what we’d like to do—if you’re open to the idea—is buy the corner of your land from the Stud Lot extending to the road, about six acres, and build on it.”
“Oh.” I blinked a few times, processing the idea of having additional income and Ben and his family nearby. “Kenzie and I thought you were going to ask us to buy the Stud Lot from you. Let me talk to her. If she’s interested, and things are in flux right now with...” With Kenzie’s increasing involvement with Christopher. “If she’s interested, I think we could come together on a reasonable price.”
He smiled, his teeth flashing in the darkening evening. “I could be your concierge veterinarian, always at hand for emergencies. Ava thinks we could manage to live in Dr. Pete’s old bungalow during design and construction.” His phone buzzed and he took it out and glanced at it. “Reminder to pick up milk. If we get this place, I’m going to keep cows because I spend at least thirty percent of my week going to the store for dairy products.”
I took another cookie as we headed back. “Is that an excuse not to watch Battlestar with me?”
“It’s a convenient truth.” He glanced at the fields. “Georgie’s giving another fundraiser at the Brewhouse.”
“I’d still have to come back, wouldn’t I? Go home, Ben. Go to your family. I’m fine.”
“You say that a lot, don’t you? ‘I’m fine.’”
“I’m fine enough. Fine for me being me.”
He stood there as darkness came down around us and the stars began to glimmer. “Look at the sky. This is why I want to raise my kids here.” Then he took my arm and said, “You know the path. Be my guide through the darkness,” and we walked back to the house.
And when he left, I went to my center and surrounded myself with dogs.
Chapter 20
SASHA SEABROOK’S PROGRAM ran early Sunday morning and I watched my segment from my sleeping bag, rewound it and had watched it a few more times when Kenzie called.
“Maddie! Have you seen the show?”
“Repeatedly. I looked less like a phony nutcase than I did the first time. What do you think?”
“You were great! You’re so composed and informative.”
“The topic and location were in my comfort zone.”
Bertie, by my side, let out a sound, not quite a whine, and I scratched his neck, “You can run when you’re better.”
“What?”
“I was talking to Bertie. Guess what? Ben and Ava want to buy the north-east corner of the property and build a house.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. It would solve a lot of our problems.” I heard something clatter outside in the wind. “Also, I’d like to get sheep again. If we�
��re not going to mow constantly, we need them grazing as fire abatement.”
“If Ben and Ava buy the lot, we can fix the tractor. See you later, Mad.”
I took Bertie to the pond and threw a stick for him. He paddled in the water and snapped at a frog while I imagined what life would be like with the Meadows family here.
The wind was gusting early today and Bertie’s fur was almost dry from our short walk to the center. Zoe was crouched on the outside of the cyclone fence, wiggling her fingers inside to play with Thing One. She wore a cotton dress with a flower print and black patent Mary-Janes, and her hair whipped around in a gust.
“Zoe! You look so pretty all dressed up.”
“Mom says I can work here this summer! Isn’t that fantastic? I had been asking and asking, and Dad said that yesterday you finally paid your bill and we had breakfast at the Versailles before church—I had a ham sandwich, but on a croissant—and there you were on the TV! So I asked again, and Mom said you were too famous now, but Claire D overheard and said you’re the best in the business and you’re a great teacher. And then they went off and talked about psycho stuff. Mom totally overreacts about the occult because of that Ojai board thing I got into when Billy Mummery started to wear black nail polish, but, to make a long story short, Claire D promised to talk to Principal Desjardins to see if I could get academic credit, so Mom said yes, so I came straight after service to tell you.”
Claire had spoken for me. That must mean something. Or nothing.
“That’s wonderful!” I took Zoe through the gate, watching her with the dogs, and giving her a few tips because her inclination was to try to play with them. “Don’t get them riled up. Establish a calm relationship first.” We went to my office to talk and we came up with a three-day schedule. “Zoe, we’ll need a project for you.”
“I’ve already thought of one! Can I train one of the shelter rescues to be a service dog? You know, to open doors, pick up things, and turn on lights? Billy’s dad is in a wheelchair, and he heard about those dogs.”
“It’s a terrific goal. Let’s start with teaching you basic training skills. When you master them, we’ll go to the next step. I’d be happy to train a dog for Mr. Mummery.” I handed her a binder from my shelves. “I put this together for Jaison when he started working for me. Your first assignment is to read my articles, watch the referenced videos, and start on the first book on the reading list. I’ll be giving tests.”
“Maddie!”
“If you’re lucky, you’ll get invited to the bi-annual offsite retreat. You can even invite Billy if you want.”
PEOPLE CALLED TO PRAISE my appearance on Sasha’s show, but I was preoccupied by the winds carrying dust and smells, by the thought of Claire in the sandwich shop and her slim paint-flecked fingers. The dogs kept circling and raising their noses. I was cleaning out the plastic kiddie pool when it flipped over and rolled to crash against the fence. The bamboo’s narrow leaves fluttered, their trunks bending. The light seemed odd and disturbing so I went into the center’s double-wide and listened to branches lashing against the roof and walls.
My phone rang flashing the Coyote Run Recorder’s number. I answered, yelling, “Don’t ever call me again!” and hung up. I didn’t care that Abel Myklebust could give me good publicity. I blocked his number and hoped he wouldn’t try to come here. I started to make a mix tape for Dawg. I wanted us to be friends again. I wrote the playlist on a piece of graph paper in my neatest printing. I burned the CD and made a cover with the title “Wind & Light.”
Claire and I used to talk about wind and light. She liked my doodles and gave me a set of extra-fine pens that I used now to decorate the cover. I was so engrossed in thinking about Claire that the phone’s ring made me start. “Caller unknown,” I told Bertie. I answered with a cautious, “Hello?”
“Maddie, it’s me, Dawg. Something awful happened and I need your help!”
It’s about Raymond, I thought and my nerves coiled like a rattler about to strike. “I’m listening.”
“I was driving and hit a dog by the Oak Forrest. I didn’t see it and then...shit. It ran out and I couldn’t stop fast enough,” he said, choking and gasping. “I’ve been looking for it to see if it’s okay, but I can’t find it.”
“Take a breath, Dawg. Accidents happen. Call Ben, because he can help if the animal’s hurt.”
“I can’t! He’ll report it to Olly D. I don’t want to lose my license if it’s nothing and I don’t want people saying, Dawg was drunk and high and killed a... Could you please come here and help? Don’t tell anyone because...Promise you won’t tell anyone. I feel so fucking bad about this. You have no idea, hon, how this makes me feel.”
“Hang on, Dawg. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
Dawg told me to meet him about 300 yards from the picnic area, at a lane hidden from the highway by overgrown bushes.
I pulled on a hoodie and trail boots, and shoved the CD in my pocket. Bertie would act as my emissary if the injured dog was apprehensive or aggressive. My truck was already stocked with a canine medical kit, extra lead, crate, water, and muzzle. Bertie was well enough to climb into the passenger seat, and we reached the Oak Forrest within 15 minutes.
I slowed at the entrance and soon spied the narrow lane where Dawg was pacing. He waved to me to park behind a tall hedge. We got out of the truck and the hot wind carried the scent of pine, reminding me of the awful day when I’d found Sherry Rae.
I helped Bertie down and said, “Where’s Gizmo?”
Dawg didn’t smile. His eyes were red and he sniveled. He looked like he’d been up smoking and snorting and drinking all night. I could see why he didn’t want Ben or Olly seeing him in this condition.
“The dog ran into those bushes. I heard the thump. I know I hit it.”
“We’ll help you.”
“It may be in this culvert. I’m too big to crawl in.” He patted his belly. “You’d fit.”
I bent over to look into the ivy covered cement duct. “There’s not enough room there for me to turn around. It would be better to draw him out.”
I heard Dawg coming up behind me. With my peripheral vision, I saw his hand come up and then he slapped a damp, noxious cloth over my mouth and nose.
By the time I realized what was happening, I no longer had the strength to fight back.
I OPENED MY EYES AND saw no more than I had with them closed. I was curled on my side, with my knees bent to my chest. My head throbbed, a chemical stench made me gag, and my thoughts were unfocused. I knew I was in danger, but I didn’t have the energy to feel fear.
For a few seconds, this was bliss: the total absence of anxiety.
I reached out and touched metal all around me. I was in a car trunk. How did I get here?
After a few moments it came to me: the panicked phone call, the culvert. Dawg. Dawg had knocked me out. Was this connected my brother?
My head was pressed against metal cans and something sloshed inside. I reached into my pocket, and only felt the CD. He’d taken my keys and my phone. I searched for something to use as a weapon. I located the latch on the trunk, but my fingers fumbled ineffectively against the latch, and I began drifting off.
Bertie. Where was Bertie? I clutched my hands so hard the nails dug into my palms, using the pain to keep me conscious. Dawg can’t know I’m awake, I thought. I fought against wooziness by calling on fear to save me now. I thought of maggots burrowing into my eyes. Of being tied up and forced to endure the brush of feathers over my skin. I thought of my kindergarten class screaming with laughter as I flapped my arms uncontrollably and peed myself, sobbing with confusion.
I thought of the first girl I had a crush on, a girl I thought was my friend and her disgust when I tried to kiss her. I thought of all the insults, all the sneers and jeers.
I thought of losing Claire, and I thought of Bertie trying to save his handler as burning rubble rained down on him.
And the most dreadful thing I thought of was how I’d been a
burden to my beautiful, wonderful little sister, when I should have been the one helping her and protecting her. And I was terrified that I was so self-centered I would depend on her for the rest of my life, not out of real need, but because it was easier and I was that selfish.
I thought of being helpless and alone and I thought, goddamn, goddamn, goddamn, goddamn this fucking world and its stupidity and selfishness and my stupidity and selfishness.
And I was awake when the car stopped.
I closed my eyes and let my body go limp. I heard the car door open. The car rocked as someone, Dawg, got out, and I heard his footsteps as he walked toward the trunk. My arms wanted to fly up, my shoulders needed to shudder, but I stayed still, so still, as if I was dead.
I kept my eyelids closed. After 19 seconds, the latch on the trunk clacked, and I could feel the wind on my face.
“Maddie. Maddie,” Dawg said. “Maddie, wake up.”
I opened my eyes half-way and mumbled, “Wha...”
Dawg gazed down at me. We were in a grove of pine trees so tall and dense they blocked out most of the light.
“Maddie, come on. Get out. I’ll help you out. Sorry about the fumes. I have to deliver kerosene.”
I didn’t want him touching me. “Can do it...can... Let me...” I kicked my leg over, heard a gas can falling over in the trunk, and I tumbled out of the car, rolling a few feet from him, which was not far enough. I got up slowly and wavered on my feet.
When I focused on Dawg, he was holding a dull black semiautomatic pistol. I did a quick mental inventory and said, “That’s not one of ours.”
“Your brother tried to unload those on me, but I didn’t want anything traceable.” He wiped at his nose. “I don’t know how this shit happened, and now that it has...”
“Is this about Raymond?”
“Him? Not really, but sort of since I had to put up with him to find out if you’d told anyone and then he steals twelve K of my winnings after I stitched him up. What an asshole.”
Told anyone what? “Where is he?”