Cupid to the Rescue: A Tail-Wagging Valentine's Day Anthology

by Lisa Mondello

  “Well, Sheb,” she said, standing tall and squaring her shoulders. “Looks like we’re adding to the family. At least for now. I’m counting on you to help out with your new younger brother. Someone has to give the poor baby a home. It won’t be Brandon, the Uber man, and it can’t be—what’s her name? Old Rita Murray.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  “Wow! He cleaned up well.”

  Kathy could barely recognize the wavy-coated black dog who waited for her in the vet’s office. She stood next to the exam table where Rocky lay quite contentedly after greeting her with a slow-wagging tail. Not as excited as Sheba would be when Kathy walked into a room, but with a cautious recognition.

  “In addition to his malnourishment,” said Dr. Fielding, “he’s suffered an abrasion on his front right paw on the pad. Sharp ice, stones, or pebbles could have done that. He’s spent a lot of time outside, not only yesterday but before then, too.”

  She bent over Rocky’s leg to see the wound better. “So, he scraped his pad and it hurts.”

  “Exactly. That’s why he was favoring it. Fortunately, there were no deep cuts. An abrasion, however, can get infected like any wound can. So, we’re disinfecting it with betadine and then putting antibiotic ointment on it.” He suited action to words, speaking quietly to the dog as he worked. “Finally, we’re cushioning the pad, then wrapping the foot in gauze, and putting a plastic bag over the whole shebang.” He used paper tape to hold the plastic in place.

  Kathy’s stomach tightened. “That’s a lot of responsibility,” she gulped. “What if…”

  “I’m only a phone call away and live pretty close, too.”

  “Right.” She pasted on a smile and looked at Sheba. “We can do this, partner. Can’t we?”

  Sheba stood on her hind legs, leaned against Kathy, and woofed. Rocky looked at her from the tabletop and emitted a short bark.

  “Ready to go, fella?” asked the vet, who lifted him and gave him a hug before placing him on the floor. “You’ve been a good boy, and you’re going to be just fine in your new home.” He looked at Kathy. “Rocky’s housebroken, so you’ll know when to take him out. Remember to use plastic bags to keep his paw dry outside. Just for a few days.”

  She nodded, smiled, and attached Rocky’s leash while butterflies danced a tarantella in her belly. Rocky’s care sounded like a full-time job.

  With tail wagging, Rocky headed for Sheba but started to limp immediately. Kathy instinctively crouched down and rubbed his neck. “Aw, baby. You’ll feel better soon. We’ll go slowly.” She received a lick for her efforts and stood up again.

  “I’ll walk you out,” said the vet. “I’ve got a bag of special chow for him. No table food, not even Sheba’s food. But make water freely available. For both of them.”

  “I need a rule book,” she laughed. “Maybe I’ll go to the library…uh, there is a library, isn’t there?”

  “Of course, but in the meantime, take this basic dog care book. That’s all you’ll really need. And by the way—thank you for doing a very good deed. I’ll be visiting Rita Murray’s place very soon and shutting her down…again. Other rescues will fill my center immediately.”

  A pack of bedraggled dogs filled her vision. Filthy and skinny, limping like Rocky did. She looked down at her beautiful rescue, ready to start his new life. Ready to trust her. A corner of her heart tore. “Okay, boy. We’ll figure it out. You’ll live with me.”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  With Sheba in the back seat and Rocky in front with her, Kathy slowly drove back to Sea View House. The vet had a point about the plastic covering. The ground was still wet in many places from the rain and ice. The lawn had to be soaked, too. She planned to pull into the driveway and park as close to her side door as possible.

  She turned right from Main Street onto Outlook Drive and headed for the house just a bit ahead—where a big, black old-model Lincoln Town Car sat in her driveway, thwarting her practical plan. Dang it. She needed that close spot. Did her neighbor have company? She dismissed the thought. Brandon’s uncle was still in Boston, visiting Brandon’s parents for the rest of the Thanksgiving weekend. Brandon knew no one else—except Charlie from the car place.

  It had to be a rental car. But a big Lincoln? Just didn’t fit him. Hmm…it might have been the only thing available in this small town. But the man didn’t have to rent a car at all! A mix of anger and disappointment washed over her. While she wanted her privacy, she’d never in her life made enemies while seeking it. Until now. This guy obviously wanted nothing to do with her. Total separation. She took a deep breath. Okay. She could live with that, but she’d prefer some respect along with it.

  She sat up taller and looked from one of her charges to the other. “Okay, pups. How shall we do this?” Rocky couldn’t run, and Sheba wouldn’t run. She’d take them both and get Rocky’s supplies afterwards. A minute later, with both leashes in her hand, she began to walk the dogs up the driveway.

  Rocky set a slow pace, and Sheba adjusted her usual happy stride to match that of her new friend. A frisson of worry melted from Kathy. She was capable of caring for them both. Her Pilgrim Cove adventure would work out—despite Brandon’s attitude.

  Men’s rumbling voices reached her when she arrived at her door. The leashes tautened as the dogs reacted, too. Brandon and a tall man with a leonine head of white hair appeared from around the back, from Brandon’s kitchen door.

  “Ahoy, lassie! You must be Teresa’s granddaughter!”

  “I am, indeed,” Kathy replied. “And you must be Bart Quinn, the man I must thank for the rental of this wonderful place.” Despite the neighbor.

  The Realtor beamed. “Wonderful it is, lass. And magical, too.” He walked closer, instantly surrounded by dogs wanting his attention, but he focused on Kathy.

  “Is that right, Mr. Quinn? I can offer you a lot of adjectives to describe the house and the beach…but magical? I don’t think so. It’s a beautiful clapboard and cement house.”

  He gestured widely behind him. “Come over, lad,” he said while still speaking to her. “Was I not just telling this good man how very special Sea View House is?”

  Kathy darted at glance at her neighbor, who rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, our Mr. Quinn did a lot of talking, he did,” replied Brandon with a nod to the Irish brogue. He leaned down to pat Rocky, who was trying to jump on him.

  “We’re just a fingertip in the ocean,” Quinn continued, “this peninsula we live on, with the mighty Atlantic on one side and Pilgrim Bay on the other. I know every street, house, and every person who calls this place home. So when I say magic happens here, I know what I’m talking about!”

  Kathy could see in his bearing, hear in his voice that the man certainly believed his own words.

  “So, Mr. Quinn,” she said calmly, “could you give us a rational example of this magic you’re referring to? Just…you know…make sure we understand?”

  But Quinn just laughed. “A ‘rational’ example? There speaks the mathematician! There are plenty of miracles that happened here, but you’re going to find that out yourselves. In fact, there’s a journal inside. If you read it, you’ll understand plenty.”

  He started walking toward his Town Car but paused and looked back. “I know about Rita Murray and her troubles. Glad to see you helped out. The good Dr. Fielding might need you again. That’s what we do in this town. I’ll tell your grandma when I see her this week.” He pointed at Kathy’s car. “Got keys?”

  “I’ll do it,” said Brandon, glancing at the leashes.

  While they waited, Bart handed her a large ROMEO business card, “Just in case.” Glancing at it, she recognized the Bigelow name. Brandon’s uncle.

  “You sure do have connections, Mr. Quinn. My grandmother and Brandon’s uncle. Is that how you get your tenants?”

  “Lassie, lassie. The tales of Sea View House would take hours to recount. Read the journal.”

  “If I ever find the time…”

  She remained in the
driveway until the jockeying was over and Bart waved to them from behind the wheel.

  Brandon returned her keys, a signal, it seemed, for Rocky to step closer to him. “You’ve got a home now, Rock. You’re one lucky dog.”

  Kathy bit her tongue. True, Brandon could have stepped up and adopted him, but not everyone was a dog lover. At least the man had avoided killing Rocky at a cost to his wallet.

  “Come on, pups. It’s getting dark and colder. Time to go home. Maybe your new mom will get some writing done tonight.” She led her charges to the door, opened it, and looked at the long flight up. Then looked at Rocky. No way could he navigate without further damaging his paw.

  She dropped Sheba’s leash. “Go on up, baby. I’ll bring your new friend.”

  Sheba didn’t move. “All right. We’ll try something else.” She squatted, scooped Rocky into her arms, took one step, and started to lose her balance. “Ahh!” Falling backwards, she was caught by a pair of strong arms.

  “Easy, Kat. Easy. Give him to me, and I’ll take him up.”

  Nothing on this trip had been easy. Resting against Brandon was tempting—very tempting—but she didn’t want the occasional favor from him. She wanted more. A lot more.

  She twirled, placed the dog in his arms, and took a deep breath. “He’ll have to be carried up and down many times over many days, which is ridiculous. So here’s the deal: either you take him to live with you downstairs, or we change apartments.”

  Her Roadside Rescues: Chapter 5

  Like a glowing ember, she was back in character. An Avenger. Her eyes implored, her chin rose high, and her posture brooked no argument. For her chutzpah, he’d give her half a win.

  “I’ll keep him with me—for now—and only for your sake. I won’t be responsible for you falling down the steps and breaking your pretty neck while carrying him.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s something.” She turned her head, but he saw a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth.

  “That’s everything, kiddo. Count on it. As soon as the paw heals, he’s yours. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He stepped outside.

  “Not so fast, kiddo. His chow and meds are in the car. I’ll bring them to you and give you some instructions.”

  He let her door slam behind him and carried the dog around the back, into his kitchen, where his computer and a stack of folders lay on the table. A designated workstation.

  “Well, Rocky. I can’t carry you around all day, so let’s see what’s happening.” He placed the dog on the floor, where he stood still while keeping his eye on Brandon. “I’m not going anywhere, Rock.” Brandon stepped back and motioned the dog to him. “Let’s see you walk.”

  The dog limped over, and Brandon scooped him up again. “Okay, my man. Let’s rest it.” He stepped through to the living room, grabbed a cushion from the sofa, and put it on the kitchen chair next to his own.

  “Let’s first acknowledge, Rock, that your life is going to be pretty boring for a few days until you can run around again. Hopefully you’ll sleep a lot, which would be best for both of us.”

  He heard the sound of his door opening and closing. “Here are the supplies.” Kathy deposited them on the table.

  “Twenty pounds of chow,” he said, “should last until he’s with you again. That’s for sure.”

  She shrugged. “He’s supposed to have small feeds several times a day. Here’s the ointment, gauze, and sterile pads for his paw. And…a bunch of poop bags. I’ll set up a trash container in the back.” She walked to Rocky and removed the plastic wrap. “Only use plastic when he goes outside. It’s for protection from the elements. The wound should air out inside.”

  She started to leave and turned back. “Here’s the basic dog care book Dr. Fielding gave me, and oh, for Pete’s sake! Take off his leash while he’s inside. Even I know that.”

  “Has anyone ever mentioned how bossy you are?”

  “Never.”

  He was pretty good at reading people, and she hadn’t struck him as a liar before. But still he probed. “Oh, come on. Really? You’ve been nonstop bossy today.”

  He watched her nose crinkle, brows furrow. She actually gave it some thought.

  “Not unless you mean my brothers. But they are truly overbearing and never listen to me anyway, so that doesn’t count.”

  Shaking his head, he muttered, “I’d love to ask their opinion.”

  And there it was. Her smile. The enchanting smile that could light up the night.

  “I bet you’d just love to chat with my brothers, but you’re not going to have the chance. No family allowed for at least three months, or maybe until Nonna returns from Florida. Just Sheba and me. Alone. Which all sounded wonderful until—well, you know.” She gave Rocky a hug. “I really have to earn a living while I’m here.”

  “So do I.” He waved toward the dining room. “I’ll be setting up in there, too. I need the space of the Captain’s Quarters. Which is why,” he admitted ruefully, “I took Rocky in. Your place is much smaller.”

  She dimpled up again. “Then I’m doubly glad you got the downstairs. You know, despite our unusual beginning, this…this sojourn of ours might work out for both of us.”

  Her words made him pause. Sojourn. A stop-over. A temporary residence. A respite. “I’ll drink to that.”

  “I didn’t notice any wine when you unpacked,” she said with a laugh. “But I’ll raise my empty glass, too.”

  Nice gesture. But he had to chuckle.

  “What?” she asked. “What did I say?”

  He took Rocky’s bowl, filled it with water, and placed the dog on the floor next to it. “I’m simply wondering how long our peaceful interlude will last.”

  “That’s up to you, Brandon. Work on it.” She escaped through the door and, admittedly, had the last word.

  But not the last laugh. That woman could make him laugh.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  A peaceful Sunday. The day progressed as Kathy hoped all her subsequent days in Pilgrim Cove would. First, a run on the beach with Sheba, followed by an easy breakfast, and then a day of research and continuing her novel. Her actuarial projects for the insurance company would take over most of the next day and throughout the week. Most people might think it unusual to be have both a math side and an artsy side, but she disagreed. Solving a mystery—her favorite genre—was the same as solving a puzzle. Designing a mystery was doing it backwards. It was fun. Challenging. She loved it.

  She browsed through her printed manuscript, rereading the last chapter to set her mind on the story. Then she focused on the electronic version. Just two or three more chapters for the protagonist, Dana Moretti, to bring this case to a close. Dana had been a delight and a challenge to develop, and with each scene, Kathy got to know more and more about her personal life and background. And her personality. A mystery wouldn’t pack the punch she wanted without the reader caring about the main character. And being curious, too.

  “If we were home, Sheba, we’d be in the middle of a huge Sunday dinner with the parental units right now, and with a dozen voices vibrating off the walls.”

  Sheba stared at her with concentration and then whined.

  “Don’t you think this quiet life is much better?”

  As if on cue, her cell phone rang. And there they all were—her family—on the extension phones, wanting to know all about her trip. Had she met Bart Quinn? How was the beach? How was Sheba?

  As she tried to explain, a knock sounded at the door. Brandon stood there, holding Rocky. She motioned him in. “Is anything wrong with Rocky?” she whispered before speaking into the phone. “I’ve got company, folks. Talk to you later.” Next week would work.

  “And just when I was celebrating the quiet…” she joked to Brandon, “the entire Russo clan popped in.” She mock-slapped her temple. “So how’s it going?” She scratched the dog’s head. “How are you, Rocky?”

  “Rocky’s just fine,” replied Brandon. “Actually, it’s been a good day for me, too. Is your
offer of the car still open? I need it for a few minutes.” He put the dog on the floor.

  “Sure. Take your time.” She tossed the keys to him, and he disappeared.

  “Well, Rock, he was in a hurry, but it’s good to see you, too.” Sheba must have agreed, because she came right over to inspect her new friend, who definitely wanted to play.

  Interesting how Sheba schooled him, nudging him to stay down as if she knew he had to take it easy. She stretched out next to him, whether for comfort or company, Kathy couldn’t tell. “You’re one smart doggie, Sheba. Smarter than a lot of humans.” The dog’s tail wagged hard in acknowledgement. Kathy smiled, shook her head, and jumped back into her manuscript

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Brandon stood inside Kathy’s door, watching her work. Sometimes, her fingers flew over the keyboard but usually paused right afterward, slowing to a measured tap, tap, tap. Then she’d raise her head to examine the screen and mumble to herself. A frown line, a smile. A nod. He enjoyed watching the process. Finally, however, he cleared his throat. She jumped, her hand going over the heart.

  “Oh, my God, Brandon. You scared me witless. You’re so quiet.”

  “Sorry about that. But witless?” He shook his head. “That doesn’t describe you.”

  She blushed a dusky rose color, her hand moving from her heart to her neck. He’d been sincere and certainly hadn’t meant his words to be flirtatious. In fact, a personal relationship was exactly the opposite of why he was visiting. He wanted to set up some rules.

  “I bought a couple of bottles of wine,” he said, taking them out of the bag. “To make real that empty toast we had.”

  “O…kay,” she replied with a question in her voice.

  “I have a proposition for you about these living arrangements that I think will work well.”