by Amanda Lance
“I have to say I’m proud of you for keeping your word—well, part of it, anyway—and keeping your distance from her. You know I have respect for Ms. Ward, but once she obtained enough of your money, she would have been done with you, moved on to someone closer to her own age… It really is for the best.”
Kasper looked away from him and back at the rose garden.
Only his hideous reflection stared back.
***
It was only Wednesday, but already Emilia was tired. The half-sleepless nights were taking their toll and weighing her down despite her attempts to ignore them with bad coffee and caffeinated tea. She dropped her pen and looked up from her paperwork. She and her bosses were already making arrangements to relocate the dogs—a preliminary measure for the shutdown almost certain to come. Unfortunately, many of the local shelters were overcrowded, many of them struggling just as much as, if not worse than Home at Last.
She had managed to get Rocko into a shelter just outside of Philadelphia, and it was looking better and better that Pork Chop might get a home before the end of the week, but it wasn’t enough.
It was never enough.
Emilia rubbed her eyes and went back to work. The window by the desk she shared with Claudette and Paula was clean but had torn up blinds from the puppies, and the lights above flickered on and off, motivated only by a good jabbing with the end of a broom handle. And while repairs were needed, new light bulbs were also just outside of the budget. More frequently than ever, Emilia relied on the fresh sunlight and spent cloudy days squinting at all the paperwork that hadn’t been filled out properly. It was a bit of a pain, but she didn’t complain. She liked working at the shelter, liked the dogs, and liked even more the opportunity to gain some respect in the animal-lover community. What had surprised her, however, was how much she liked the people she worked with. They were all dedicated to the animals and had almost the same kind of work ethic she did. Better yet, everyone seemed to like her, and it soothed her social awkwardness in the rest of her life considerably.
Emilia turned down the radio and tuned in to the sound of the dogs in the back instead. Claudette shushed them and simultaneously swore, the result, Emilia guessed, of her tripping over a squeaky toy. She laughed and turned the radio down even more to listen. It must have been one of those rare days when her colleague wasn’t wearing makeup or had forgotten to straighten her hair—otherwise she would have come in the front door for sure.
“Be quiet, Pickles! We know you’re all talk!”
“All kisses, too.” Emilia gave up on holding back her laugh and glanced over her shoulder to watch Claudette stumble her way into the lobby.
“I know, right?” Claudette’s big sunglasses slid down her nose so that they almost fell off. “Too bad we can’t convince families who come in here of that.”
“You want some help?” Emilia got up and reached for one of the tote bags Claudette was struggling with. The dark-haired beauty handed one of them over without hesitation and mouthed her thanks.
Emilia could have guessed before she even opened the bag that the tote consisted of food donations. If Claudette was good at anything, it was convincing local civilians and grocery stores to give up things like blankets, flea collars, toys, and shampoos. At least once a week, Claudette came in with bags of canned foods, and Emilia had to admit that it made a big difference.
Emilia smirked while she explored the contents of the bag. “Got the good stuff this time, I see.”
“Yep,” Claudette said, dropping the other tote bag on the cracked floor. “Half of it might be expired, but they don’t care.”
“I care, Claudette.” Emilia did her best goofy face and pretended to wipe away a crocodile tear. “I care.”
Detangling her sunglasses from her dark hair, Claudette rolled her eyes and began going through the cans of food. Laughing, Emilia opened the pantry and joined her. Other than Andrew, Claudette was one of the few people she felt comfortable joking around with, making her transition to New York exceptionally easier. And she had to figure that, despite lacking social skills, having two friends (even if they were only considered a co-worker and neighbor) was twice the number of friends she had had growing up. Geez, maybe at the rate she was going, she might have all of four friends by the time she reached middle age.
“What time are you here until today?”
“It was supposed to be six, but I’m meeting Matt for dinner—”
“So you’re leaving me?”
“Have you seen my boyfriend?” Claudette scoffed. “If you looked up from your books once in a while, maybe you’d understand.”
Emilia grimaced, remembering all too well how obsessed she had been during those months when she and Kasper had been together. As much as she loved her job, she too would have very willingly left early to see him on any given day. She rubbed her thumbnail along the inside of one of the cans and shut the pantry door.
“I’m going to take some of the older guys for a walk.” Digging under the papers on her desk, Emilia found a hair tie and started to pull her hair up. Suddenly, she was desperate for some time outside, a breath of fresh air away from her memories of Kasper.
“You sure?” Claudette asked. “It’s sweltering out there. Maybe you should wait—”
High-pitched screams cut her off.
They turned in the direction of the sound, Claudette dropping an armful of tennis balls and Emilia immediately going into a defensive stance. The dogs responded by barking and howling. Yet before either of them could question the noise outright, the large face of their boss appeared from over from the top of the brass stairwell, beaming a bright smile.
“Christ!” Claudette breathed. “Are you trying to kill us?”
“Or the dogs, for that matter?” Emilia mumbled.
The girls looked at each other and laughed before looking back up at the older woman. Elaine wasn’t a bad boss, but because of some of her medical issues, she often wasn’t around or spent most of her office time arguing with her insurance company or doctors. Additionally, because of her diabetes and thyroid condition, she was overweight, struggling to walk without a cane, let alone with the dogs. Still, she was a considerate woman, kind to the animals, and lenient enough about work hours so that everyone liked her well enough. And it was all of these things that Emilia reminded herself of before scolding herself for focusing on the swaying of her employer’s multiple chins.
“You ladies won’t believe what happened!”
Claudette clapped her hands in mock joy. “We’re shutting down for good?”
Emilia fueled the fire and feigned as much giddiness. “But first we’re all getting euthanized?”
Elaine ignored them and their giggling while she began her limp down the stairs. She waved some papers in their direction as if they were insects to be shooed, and hobbled faster. About halfway down the steps, Emilia rushed to meet her, not failing to notice how the older woman’s smile had her unusually flushed, her eyes bright.
“Okay, Elaine, we’re all ears.” Claudette sighed. “What’s up?”
Emilia led her to the large desk chair and listened to it creak under her weight. Nevertheless, it seemed Elaine would refuse to sit still.
“We just received a donation!”
“No kidding.” Claudette threw a squeaky toy at Emilia and laughed as it hit her in the head.
“No! No! No!” Elaine pounded her cane on the ground for each time she groaned the word, and the dogs responded in kind. Emilia picked up the toy and chucked it at Claudette playfully. “Not that kind of donation, a money donation!”
Emilia startled, failing to dodge the toy that Claudette threw back. “Y-you mean like the kind that will keep the lights on?”
Claudette began using another squeaky toy like a stress ball. “And money in our paychecks?”
Elaine nodded eagerly.
“Holy crap!” Claudette started jumping up and down, but Emilia held out her hand to stop her
.
“Let’s not get too excited here. Paula and I just did the books last Friday, and this place is barely floating as it is. Even with a decent donation—”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Em!” Elaine pulled on the edge of Emilia’s tank top like a little child, and the image made Emilia almost smile. It was nearly impossible to think of Elaine as ever being “little,” and with her silver hair it was equally impossible to believe she had ever been a child.
“This isn’t just a ‘decent’ donation. This is a lot more than that!”
If Claudette hadn’t been interested before, she was now, and she abandoned her post at the counter to join the women at the desk. With her eyes just as wide as Elaine’s, she asked, “A lot? How much is a lot?”
“$20,000 to start! But the—”
“What?”
“And he said he plans on giving us additional funds next year.”
Elaine continued to talk while Claudette gushed and asked questions, but Emilia was frozen in her tracks. She only knew one man who was so generous with his money, one man who cared enough about her do to something so lucrative…
“How do we know this is for real?”
“What?” Both women turned to her at the same time. Apparently they were already beginning to discuss what to do with the money, and the dose of reality had ruined their fun.
“How do we know this is the real deal and not just a prank or something?”
“Because he already sent the money! Haven’t you been paying attention?”
No, she had to admit, she hadn’t.
“Who sent the money?” she asked, more roughly than she intended to. “Who is this big benefactor?”
“Oh, ah—” Elaine glanced at the papers in her hand and squinted hard. Normally, Emilia would have fetched her glasses for her, but she found herself unable to move. She didn’t know what she would do if one of the next words Elaine said was “Kasper”—if she even wanted it to be or not.
“Some German guy.” She sighed. “A Carl von Weber.”
“German?” Claudette laughed and clapped her hands. “I’m going to make him a batch of strudel!”
“Hell…” Elaine laughed. “I’m going to teach the dogs tricks in German!”
They laughed and compared all the things they would do for their new patron. Emilia, however, had already signed out of the conversation and tried again to pull up her hair. She even walked around them while Claudette pushed Elaine around in the chair and they sang “Alouette.” She didn’t have the heart to tell them it was French.
“I’m going to go walk some of the guys.”
Emilia grabbed three harnesses and several chain leashes and headed out to the kennel. The first thing any of the dogs at Home at Last learned was that the sight of a leash meant walking time, and they all barked louder than before, clawing at their cages happily or running in small circles in the hopes of being picked.
“Come on, Smokey, Butterball.” She nodded to the three-legged pup in the cage next to them. “Don’t worry, Checkers, you’re next.”
Emilia hooked them up and let them pull her out, not bothering to yank back on the leash or yell at them to heel. She didn’t even give Butterball a hard time for barking at a jogger or for growling at a car at a stop sign. Instead, she soaked in the humidity and let the name of the patron ring in her ears. It was possible that it had been a consequence, entirely possible that she misheard or that Elaine had mispronounced the name, yet as she rounded the sidewalk, she refuted the unlikelihood of all of those things.
After all, what were the odds that this benefactor would have the same name as one of her favorite composers?
Chapter 2
Generosity
Emilia waited until she was safely back in her apartment before calling him. She could give herself points for that much self-control, right? An A for effort? Emilia had even made sure Tut had a good jog around the block and a belly full of his beef-flavored cereal before she began her timely stare down with the phone. While she had stopped calling him after the first few weeks of no response, resigning herself to the fact that he no longer wanted her, this was something altogether different. If Kasper had made this donation, then he had to have known the shelter was in trouble, right? At the very least had to say thank you, didn’t she? But if he had done this, then what did that mean? Was he spying on her again?
They had stopped communicating with each other so soon after leaving New York, and other than making sure she had arrived safety and settled in properly, she hadn’t heard from him. Was this Kasper’s way of signifying that he wanted to communicate with her again? Of trying to let her know that he was sorry?
After biting her nails down to nubs, she dredged up the courage to take the phone off the hook, only to put it back down again. What if it was just a silly coincidence and she looked like a pathetic little girl trying to call him again? Emilia sighed and wrung her hands. Just when she thought she was genuinely beginning to get over him, why did this have to happen?
During those first few weeks, how many times did she have a dream about him or hear a song that reminded her of him, only to have it ruin any chance of a good day? That phase in her heartbreak had ended, however, and she was living her life the best way she knew how. Hell, she had left the state, started a new job, was going to a different school, and had a place of her own for the first time. Emilia was doing everything she had to do to achieve her goal of becoming a veterinarian and being an independent person. Yet, still it seemed, she couldn’t shake him out of her head and heart. Emilia knew that even if he hadn’t been the one to make this donation, the mere possibility of him doing so would set her recovery back significantly.
This was ridiculous! How was she supposed to be a self-sufficient woman when in the pit of her soul she was still obsessing about Kasper, lusting after him? She took her finger out of her mouth and snapped it. She would make herself call him no matter how lame it made her seem—how feeble. She picked up the phone again and pretended like she didn’t notice her jittery legs as she dialed the numbers.
It rang and rang but no one picked it up.
***
Kasper stared at the phone on the wall. After he was confident that she had reached New York safely and Frankford had assured him of the safety of her neighborhood, he’d had it disconnected—no longer capable of avoiding the temptation that was its constant ringing and the voice he knew would be on the other end. He had even gone so far as to make Mrs. Levkin apply a password to her cellular phone so he would not be tempted. While it was unlikely, he was always aware of the possibility that his angel would persist in her kind worries and call Mrs. Levkin when he did not respond to her calls. And like many other times, he threatened to fire her for taking any of the young woman’s calls.
It was the first time he meant it.
Perhaps, however, if there was some good to come out of his perpetual misery, it was his music. Like many artists that would come before and after him, his work was fueled by sorrow. Every note he wrote was clairvoyant and vigorous, and when they were transferred from paper to instrument, Iram Manor briefly came back to life like a corpse being resuscitated.
Heaving a sigh, he put the violin back in its case. Kasper played so often now that his fingers no longer bled from the torn calluses, but the increased exercise hurt the joints in his knuckles. Kasper, however, did not mind the pain. On the contrary, he rather liked it, the constant reminder that his body was slowly working its way toward disintegration.
“What is this check for?”
Kasper reached for his glass of bourbon and took a long, deep sip. “Doesn’t anyone around here knock anymore?”
Despite the fact that he wasn’t looking at Mrs. Levkin, he could still feel her eyes rolling while she knocked on the wall closest to her. “There. Satisfied now?”
He took another sip. If Emilia were here, she would have laughed at the woman’s snarkiness. Kasper closed his eyes and tr
ied picturing it in his mind. It was so clear to him it almost made him smile.
“Kasper? Kasper?”
He huffed and took another drink. As quickly as the image had entered his mind, it left him, and he felt more alone than ever.
“Why are you bothering me again?”
Kasper turned as she put her reading glasses on, her eyes widening as she read something alarming to her. “What is this $20,000 deduction in your checking for? It isn’t enough for the kinds of cars you like, and you wouldn’t waste time picking out new appliances. Are you getting a new piano?”
“It is just a charity.” He sat down and took the last gulp from his glass. “A charity…”
From the corner of his eye, Kasper watched Mrs. Levkin remove her glasses, her little mind putting the pieces together. Oh, how he wished that she would just leave him alone, how they all would just leave him alone to wither away in peace! If they did, he might just fade faster, die sooner.
“You’ve never donated more than $10,000 to any charity before.”
Kasper closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “I’ll have you know my time is worth a great deal more than that, and I have donated several hours’ worth of work to several organizations.”
“Why didn’t you do that for this organization, then?” She eyed him suspiciously but he pretended not to notice.
“Well, you know…” He smiled and rolled the ice around in his glass. “Tax write-offs and all that.”
Her sigh alone made it clear that she didn’t believe him. “What charity is this for again?”
Standing up to pour himself another drink, Kasper watched his glass while the sun created rainbows off the crystal. To a simple-minded person, it was such an unpretentious thing, but he knew the process itself by which the light reflected off the glass was complex and wonderful. He clutched the glass to his chest—one more thing to remind him of Emilia Ward.
“Kasper?”
“An animal shelter,” he snapped.