Wildland

by Rebecca Hodge

  That overlook must be far more popular than Kat had realized. She hadn’t planned on manning a tourist stop. “It’s beautiful up here. I’m looking forward to a quiet month.” She meant it as a hint, but he didn’t look like the sort to tune in.

  Now that no one was showering her with attention, Juni returned to the road and stood poised to move on. She watched Kat, waiting for a signal. The perfect excuse to leave.

  “Nice meeting you both.” Kat started to follow the dog. “Juni and I are out exploring.”

  Lily took a half step forward. She stayed silent, but her eyes were on Kat, and it was easy to guess she’d like to come along.

  Kat paused. She had not come to these mountains to hang out with a kid no doubt bored in the boonies, but some company in these woods would be nice.

  Lily waited.

  Kat caved. “Want to come with us?”

  Lily’s dazzling grin made her look half her age. “Can I, Dad?” She took a few steps toward Juni. Scott started to shake his head no, and Lily cut him off. “Come on, Dad. Please? You have to do your computer stuff. And you keep bugging me about that backpacking trip. Think of this as training.”

  Kat smothered a smile, and Scott gave her an if-you-only-knew-what-I-put-up-with look that emphasized how young he was.

  Lily’s plea had the melting effect she’d obviously hoped for. “I guess you can go,” Scott said. “How long a walk? Where are you going?”

  “We’ll stay on the road.” Not that Kat would ever consider leaving it. “An hour or so? I won’t let Lily out of my sight.”

  Scott gave Kat another careful once-over, and whatever doubts he harbored seemed alleviated. “Thanks. Lily will enjoy it, and I can get some work done.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Lily took Juni’s ball, tossed it down the road for her to fetch, and raced after her.

  Kat followed. Perhaps entertaining random children was an unexpected by-product of having a dog. First Nirav. Now this girl. Sara had always been surrounded by a whirlwind of girlfriends, but they were simply passing faces whose names Kat could never quite keep straight. It had been a very long time since she’d spent time with a child outside a classroom.

  Lily waited and fell into step beside Kat, and as they walked, she tossed Juni’s ball ahead of them for her to retrieve. The heavy scent of evergreens hung in the air, and with company along, Kat relaxed enough to notice.

  “It smells like Christmas here,” she said.

  They had always decorated a real Christmas tree when Sara was little, complete with construction-paper chains, popcorn strands, and glitter-laden preschool art. Kat had filled tin after tin with fudge and iced sugar cookies, and on Christmas morning she and Jim would set the alarm for 5 AM to watch the look on Sara’s face when she first saw the presents.

  Kat had done her best to keep all their family traditions alive—a new candle added to the table at each December dinner until the whole dining room glowed on Christmas Eve, flour spread on the back porch so reindeer hoof prints could magically appear Christmas morning. Then the year came when, flattened by chemo, Kat had found it all more trouble than she could manage. The decorations now lived only in their boxes, gathering dust in the attic.

  Perhaps, if she were well enough, she could take them out this next Christmas. Perhaps she and Sara could decorate together. Then again, perhaps not. Who knew what kind of shape she’d be in by December?

  Lily said nothing. The silence grew awkward.

  Be checked for silence, but never taxed for speech. This time, Kat took care not to speak the line aloud.

  Maybe a direct question would work. “You’re staying here with your father? That must be nice.”

  Lily shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Kat didn’t believe her, and Lily obviously didn’t expect her to. Probably best to ignore it, but too many years as parent and teacher made her ask, “What’s wrong?”

  Lily blew out a long breath. “This summer bites. I only get to stay with Dad for a month every summer. He takes me somewhere different each year, and I try to guess where.” Her words tumbled out in a rush. “My best friend Myra and I figured this summer would be New York City. You know, Statue of Liberty like X-men. Empire State Building like Elf. Instead, he’s planned all kinds of hiking and backpacking crap, and it all sucks.”

  Kat resisted a sigh. The smiling child she’d invited had transformed into a whining teenager.

  “I called Myra last night—can you believe the phone in that house Dad rented has a cord?—and she says she’s going to the mall this afternoon with Caroline Wagner. Caroline Wagner. They’ll end up best friends and they’ll spend all their time together and I won’t have anybody at all.”

  By the time she reached this pitiful ending, her face was pinched and she was sniffling.

  Kat fumbled in her pocket and found a wrinkled tissue. Lily blew her nose.

  “Maybe you’ll like the hikes with your dad.”

  Lily snorted, gave a major eye roll, and launched into a soliloquy on all the other things Myra said, did, and planned.

  Kat’s attention wandered. Her students fell into two distinct categories by the time they hit high school—those who twisted with every peer-pressure breeze and those who ignored the wind. Lily appeared to already be accomplished at pretzeling herself into whatever shape her friends demanded. Sara’s stubbornness might be frustrating, but at least she knew her own mind.

  Lily ran out of complaints at last, and this time, Kat enjoyed the silence.

  Her thoughts turned to Malcolm and Nirav, wondering what their story was, wondering whether she’d see them again. Sara, Juni, Malcolm, Nirav, Scott, Lily. Her mental picture of a month of unbroken solitude was already in need of some serious revision. She couldn’t decide whether she resented the invasion or enjoyed the unexpected neighbors. Maybe a little of both. She needed space on her own to make up her mind, but perhaps she didn’t need to be lonely.

  When the gravel ended, Kat and Lily turned downhill on the paved road, lined on both sides by brown overgrown fields, their withered plants another reminder of the drought’s relentless progression. Half-rotten fence posts leaned at crazy angles amid head-high saplings, and weeds grew thick and tangled. Juni tired of playing fetch, and she ranged a little ahead, nosing the undergrowth. She startled a pair of mourning doves, who took flight with whistling wings, and Kat added them to her lengthening bird list.

  They’d walked farther than she’d planned, time to turn back, when Juni stopped and stared to one side. She dropped her ball on the pavement and stalked into the scrubby weeds, her head down, her tail stiff, a low growl rumbling deep in her throat.

  “Juni, no.” Kat looked, but she couldn’t tell what had prompted such a sudden change.

  Lily moved to the edge of the road and leaned forward, as if a few added inches would clarify the situation. “I can’t see anything. What’s wrong with her?”

  Kat shook her head, apprehensive. She called again.

  Juni ignored her and continued to walk stiff-legged into the weeds, the hair on her back standing up like bristles on a scrub brush. Twigs and thorny vines snagged her coat, pulling at her skin, but the dog ignored them, too. When she reached the old fence line, she stopped growling, lifted her head, and gave a hesitant wag of her tail. She whined, her full attention focused on something ahead of her. Something Kat couldn’t see.

  “Juni, come here.” Kat tried to sound suitably stern and commanding. Juni glanced in her direction, but she didn’t come.

  “Shit,” Kat said under her breath. If Lily hadn’t been there, she would have said something stronger. She shouldn’t have trusted this dog. She called one more time, but Juni stood rock solid and barked, giving no indication she had any intention of obeying.

  The mass of vegetation between Kat and the dog was the perfect hiding place for ticks and chiggers. Maybe even snakes. The skin on Kat’s arms prickled at the thought, but she couldn’t abandon the dog. She gulped and plunged in. Vines grabbed her ankle
s and brambles attacked her bare legs, scoring her skin in long red scratches. She would have a few choice words for Sara the next time they talked, that was for sure.

  “Damn dog.” She paused to detach a tall thistle plant from her shorts. “Honestly, Juni, couldn’t you find a nice open lawn to disobey on?”

  She finally reached the dog, who barked again and nosed Kat’s leg. Kat took a firm grasp of her collar, ready to drag her back to the road, but a whimper came from the bush ahead. Kat flinched, but she let go of Juni and bent low, careful not to move closer, unsure whether the noise came from something needing help or something dangerous.

  Another dog lay hidden. A young dog. Not tiny, but his oversized paws meant he was not yet full-grown. Brown and black, some sort of mixed-up combination of hound or shepherd or who knew what, with a broad forehead and floppy hang-down-low ears. He crouched, trembling, beneath a snarl of rusted barbed wire that hung from one of the old fence posts. Not something overtly dangerous, and Kat inched forward as close as she could. Brambles studded the dog’s short coat. He was caked with dirt and skeleton-thin.

  Juni started forward, but the web of vines and wire blocked her.

  “Stay.”

  Juni sat and panted.

  Kat cautiously extended a hand, unsure whether that was the right move, but she stopped before she touched the dog. What if he’s rabid? What if he bites? “Hi there.”

  The puppy ducked his head and flattened himself still further. He tried to back away, his paws scrabbling against the churned-up dirt around him. A length of taut, once-white wire-core clothesline stretched from his neck to disappear into the jumble of weeds and decrepit fence, preventing him from moving.

  The suspense must have been too much for Lily, and she thrashed her way through the undergrowth and came up behind Kat. She stopped, looking at the pup. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”

  “He’s caught. Hang on. Let me see if I can get him loose.” Just what she needed. Another dog. Another worry. But leaving the poor thing like this was too cruel to even contemplate.

  Kat wished her heart would slow. “Easy now. Easy. No one’s going to hurt you.” She tried to keep her voice calm, tried to imagine what someone who actually knew what they were doing would do, but the puppy whined and pulled at his tether, his eyes wide and frightened, searching in all directions for escape.

  Kat stretched, grabbed the clothesline, and traced it back. It snaked in and out of the jagged branches of a long stick, which had in turn lodged in the old fence. The dog must have dragged the rope behind him, picking up debris as he went. Who knew where he had come from. How far he had traveled. How long he had been stuck here.

  It took an endless few minutes to untangle the snarls, but Sara would never let her hear the end of it if she gave up. When the rope fell free at last, Kat turned again to the dog. “It’s okay. Come here, little one.” The pup didn’t budge.

  If only she understood more about dogs. Sara should be the one here in this situation—she’d know what to do. Kat kept the tension constant on the clothesline and moved cautiously forward. The pup whimpered, flattened his head, and tucked his tail even farther under his belly. He was shaking so hard, the sun-scorched grasses around him rustled.

  Kat leaned forward, reaching, close enough now to breathe in the cloud of stink rising from the dog’s coat. The smells of urine and feces and indefinable muck slowed her hand, but it was the sweet metallic smell of fresh blood that made her gasp and pull back. She closed her eyes, and the memories rushed in, the bloody drains after her surgeries, her mother’s years of illness, the constant doctor visits and blood draws. Her stomach churned and a swell of nausea caught in the back of her throat.

  “Kat, are you okay?”

  The urgency in Lily’s voice jerked Kat back to the present.

  “Give me a minute. I’m fine.” A blatant lie. Kat licked dry lips and wiped damp palms on her shorts. She could do this. She reached up and touched her necklace, and her scrambled insides detangled themselves.

  The dog watched her with wary eyes. Kat leaned forward again, apprehensive of what came next, breathing through her mouth this time to avoid the smell. She held out her hand for the dog to sniff, and he looked up at her. No growl or snarl. She patted him on the back, slipped her hand underneath his body, and picked him up. He was about one-fourth Juni’s size, but he felt hollow, as light as papier-mâché.

  “You got him. Is he all right?” Lily tried to come closer, but Juni blocked her way.

  “Hard to tell yet.”

  Dirt tumbled off the dog’s coat, and Kat tried to avoid the worst of it. Despite the filth, she nestled him securely in her arms, worried he would scramble away if she didn’t keep a firm hold.

  What a mess. The pup’s left front leg had a long ragged cut that dripped blood onto Kat’s new tennis shoes, and tendons glistened white below the elbow, exposed by the peeled-back skin. Kat shook with the effort to hang on instead of flinging the animal away, and her breath came fast. Grape-sized brownish-purple lumps distorted the dog’s shoulders and back, and Kat’s stomach gave another lurch. Engorged ticks.

  Dried blood crusted the loop of clothesline that encircled the dog’s neck. Sara would probably try to get it off right away. Kat shifted her hold, pinning the pup against her chest with one arm so she could use her free hand to investigate. She ran her fingers along the rope collar and tried to loosen it, but she couldn’t get a firm grip, her fingertips sliding seamlessly from rope to skin.

  Then she understood. She fought against a mighty wave of nausea and swallowed hard against the bile that scalded her throat.

  The rope was embedded.

  The clothesline must have been tied in place when the dog was smaller and then ignored. As the pup grew, the collar dug in, and the skin split as it tried to grow around it. She held the dog more tightly against her, dirt, blood, ticks, and all.

  “Kat, what’s wrong?” Lily stretched forward, trying to see.

  Kat’s entire body shook, a formidable tremor of pure anger. No, she corrected herself, anger didn’t begin to describe it. Rage. Rage at such ignorance. Rage at the overwhelming neglect that had left a helpless animal in such slow relentless agony.

  “Let’s get back to the cottage. This dog needs a vet.”

  She waded through the brush to the road. The pup continued to tremble in her arms, and he tucked his head between her elbow and her side as if trying to make himself invisible. Otherwise, he made no effort to move, no attempt to escape. Juni stuck close, her head stretched high to sniff at the new arrival, but the pup acted oblivious.

  Kat forced aside a feeling of panic and another flood of disastrous memories—other overwhelming situations where she had been only a powerless spectator. Jim’s sudden death. The cancer. Its spread. If only someone else would materialize to take care of this mess.

  “What are you going to call him?” Lily asked.

  “Nothing. I’m not naming him. I’m not keeping him.”

  What in the world had she gotten herself into? Kat didn’t want complications. She didn’t want to be involved. She didn’t want one dog, much less two. Yet here she was, trudging uphill, her legs crisscrossed with bramble scratches, her clothing plastered with dirt, clutching an injured half-starved pup who probably needed endless care. But when she shifted her hand, it rested below the dog’s chest, and she could feel his heart beating steadily against her palm.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MONDAY, 1:00 PM

  Malcolm and Nirav arrived back at their rental cottage and headed for the kitchen. “Hungry? Want some lunch?”

  “Yes, please.” The orphanage had drilled the kids on manners, and Nirav had been an avid learner—you must act polite, children, or you’ll not be chosen. The message didn’t settle well with Malcolm. As if a child without manners deserved less.

  Nirav sat in one of the kitchen chairs—always close by, always watching, as if fearing his new father would disappear if given half a chance.

  Mal
colm’s business partners in the security firm had been incredulous when he told them he’d filed papers for adoption. Fifteen-countries-in-ten-years Malcolm? Everything-he-owned-in-one-duffel-bag Malcolm? Raise a kid? On his own? He’d heard the chatter. Seen the headshakes and the dubious frowns.

  Now, here he was, back in the States, arriving in Atlanta with his new son and detouring to the mountains for some quiet time together while he negotiated a mortgage in DC for a house seen only on video. Worrying about kid’s clothes and kid’s shoes and school registration. It all felt a bit overwhelming, but whenever he doubted his sanity, all it took was a hug from Nirav to remind him what was important.

  He pulled some leftover dal from the fridge and plopped it into a skillet to warm.

  “Papa,” Nirav said after a while, “in our new house, is there room for a dog like Juni?”

  Papa. The new name still sounded strange, but every time Malcolm heard it, he was infused with a pride no other title or rank had ever given him. “A dog, huh? Well, the backyard is fenced. We can think about it. A dog has to be cared for. It’s a big responsibility.”

  Nirav beamed, apparently confident that thinking about it meant yes. “I can do that. I can take care of him. When can we get him?” When they were around other people, Malcolm tried to stick to English, but when it was just the two of them, they both slipped into Hindi. In his own language, Nirav always had plenty to say.

  “Hold on, hold on. We’ll see.” A son. A house. Now a dog?

  “What do you want to do this afternoon?” They hadn’t checked out the lake yet, and they needed to get groceries from town.

  “Can we read one more chapter?”

  Malcolm laughed. That woman at the bookstore had been right—all kids loved wizards and flying broomsticks. “Not a whole chapter. How about four pages?”

  It was slow going, reading aloud in English, then pausing after each paragraph to translate any bits Nirav didn’t understand. He was catching on fast, so it was worth the effort, even if Nirav’s English vocabulary now included some pretty strange words.