When he turned the scanner on and began sliding it along Sox’s back, Meghan’s heart stopped beating. It didn’t start up again until he looked at her and said, “Sorry.”
“For what?” she asked nervously.
“I can’t help you. There’s nothing here. Sox doesn’t have a chip.”
He’d heard the fearfulness woven through her words and mistakenly believed it was because she couldn’t locate the owner. “If you want, I can give you the address of a shelter where you can drop him off.”
Meghan gasped. “Drop him off? Why would I do that?” She explained how Clancy had gone missing, and they’d searched for months without finding him.
“As much as I wanted to keep Sox, I felt if he had an owner, I needed to try to find him or her,” she said, then went on to explain she’d called the police department and the ASPCA and run an ad in the Snip ’N’ Save.
“So far no one has come forward to claim him.”
Tom Whitely looked at her with that smile. The one she’d liked from the first moment she saw it; the one where the glimmer in his eyes was a giveaway of his thoughts.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve done everything there is to do. I think you can safely consider him yours.”
A warm flood of happiness rushed through Meghan, and, without stopping to think, she flung her arms around Tom’s neck and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you!” she said. “A million times over!”
He made no move to step back but stood there with a silly-looking grin stretched across his face. Meghan moved on to hugging the dog.
He watched for a moment, then said, “If you’re planning on keeping Sox, you might want to bring him in for a checkup. He’s probably going to need a rabies shot and vaccinations.”
“Sure. Absolutely. Can you do it right now?”
“We’re booked solid today,” he said. “Could you possibly come back on Friday at five thirty or six?”
Tom’s voice was a bit tentative as he spoke. He hoped he wasn’t being too obvious. He wanted to see her again, and having her bring the dog back was the best way to do it. With her as the last visitor on a Friday evening, he could spend plenty of time with the dog and get to know his mistress, maybe even go for a cup of coffee afterward.
“Sure,” Meghan said. “That time works well for me.”
“Okay, it’s a date.” The words slipped out before he had time to rethink them, and as they reached his ears he realized the implication. He gave an embarrassed chuckle.
“I didn’t mean date like date; I meant appointment. You know, veterinary consultation.”
Meghan laughed. “Of course.”
“Oh. Okay, then, I’ll see you on Friday.”
He didn’t turn and disappear out the back door as Dr. Anderson usually did. He just stood there with that goofy grin while he watched her clip the leash onto Sox’s collar and retrieve the keys from her bag.
As she started toward the reception area, Meghan glanced back and gave him one last smile. It wasn’t until she got to the parking lot that she realized he’d given her that time without checking his appointment book.
Hmm.
She stopped for a moment and eyed the sign on the building: OFFICE HOURS 9:00 A.M. TO 5:30 P.M., MONDAY–FRIDAY. A grin, similar to the one Dr. Tom Whitely had been wearing, settled on her face.
Apparently he liked her as much as she liked him.
Celebratory Lunch
True to her promise, Meghan took everyone out to lunch that afternoon. She turned the Snip ’N’ Save answering machine on and said for once business could wait. After more than three weeks of wondering whether or not she would get to keep the dog she’d come to love, she could at long last breathe a sigh of relief.
“Sox is now mine to keep,” she said happily.
Lila eyed her with a look of skepticism. “And what if a year from now somebody comes up to you and says he’s their dog?”
“I doubt that’s going to happen, and if it does it will be too late. I’m having a chip put in Sox. A chip that says I’m his owner. Then that’s the end of that.”
Lila raised her eyebrows and stretched her mouth into a look emphasizing her skepticism.
“Don’t worry, Mama. Dr. Whitely says I’ve done everything possible to find Sox’s owner, and since no one has come forth by now, it’s safe to say he’s mine to keep.”
“Who’s Dr. Whitely?” Lila asked.
Meghan went on to explain that Dr. Anderson was retiring, and Tom Whitely would be the new vet. The corners of Lila’s mouth turned down in disappointment at the news.
“Walter’s retiring? Now? When Beulah is getting to the age where she needs a reliable vet?”
“Don’t worry. You’ll love Tom. He’s really good with animals. Sox liked him right away. He’s got the softest hands and a very likable personality . . . ”
Although Meghan skipped over saying how a lock of his hair tumbled onto his forehead at just the right angle and his eyes were a greenish gray with a magic all their own, it became obvious that she had taken more than just a passing interest in the new vet.
Tracy and Lila both spoke at once.
“How old is he?” Lila asked.
“Is he single?” Tracy wondered aloud.
Meghan laughed. “Mama, don’t start making this into something more than it is. He’s just a nice man who has a way with animals. I certainly didn’t ask his age, and it doesn’t matter whether or not he’s married.”
The truth was Meghan did notice he wasn’t wearing a ring, and if she went by the way he’d smiled at her, she’d also guess he was single. Hopefully she was right.
Since Lucas and Sox were joining them for lunch, they bypassed the Italian restaurant with great veal scaloppini and headed for the McDonald’s on Grove Street. With outdoor seating and a fenced-in playground, it was a perfect place to eat.
They carried trays piled high with cheeseburgers, chicken nuggets, and fries and settled at the outdoor table. Since no one else was around, Meghan let Sox off his leash, and he started sniffing his way across the playground. Lucas toddled along behind him.
Lila watched for a few moments, then called out for Lucas to slow down and be careful. He ignored her completely and did neither. Instead of fussing at him, she laughed.
“How can you be angry with the little rascal when the way he plays with that dog is so cute?”
What she said was true. Lucas and Sox looked like they belonged together. They chased one another back and forth across the playground, circling around the jungle gym and tables to somehow come out on the other side at the same time. Hearing the child laugh as he played with the dog made it obvious that Sox connected with the boy in a way no one else had.
“In times like this, Lucas seems like such a normal little boy,” Tracy said wistfully. “If only . . . ”
Meghan reached over and squeezed her sister’s knee. “Don’t worry. It’s only a few more weeks, then we’ll see what the pediatrician has to say.”
Tracy said nothing, but a range of ridges settled on her forehead, and she moved on to talking of other things. She told how Dominic had called and pleaded for her to come back to Philadelphia.
“He said he wants to be a daddy to Lucas, and he’s truly sorry for what’s happened.” She hesitated a moment, then added, “I’d like to believe he’s changed and that he could—”
“Don’t be foolish,” Lila cut in before Tracy could finish the thought. “You know men like Dominic don’t change. They use people and—”
“Save your breath, Mama,” Tracy said, tired of hearing about Dominic’s bad qualities over and over again. “I’m not going back. I was just saying . . . ”
Her words drifted off, but in them Meghan sensed the weight of longing, the heaviness of wanting something not yours to have. It was the same feeling she’d had when she missed out on going to the Grady College of Journalism. That first year, the thought of all those wonderful classes moving on without her was like a stone lodged in her heart. At times she c
ould actually feel herself hunched over from the sheer weight of it.
She scooted closer and touched her hand to Tracy’s arm.
“I understand what you’re going through,” she whispered. “But in time, it gets better.”
Tracy turned with a grim smile. “I know. But right now . . . ” Then she sighed and just shook her head.
Once the food was gone, Lila left, saying she had books that needed to be returned to the library. Tracy and Meghan stayed behind, soaking up the warm sun and enjoying the mellowness of the day. It was nearly three when Meghan began gathering up the empty wrappers and cardboard containers.
“Let me take those to the trash bin,” Tracy said. “You can stay here and keep an eye on Lucas.”
With that, Tracy disappeared into the restaurant.
As Meghan sat watching Lucas toddle across the playground with Sox following along, she heard the familiar call of a blue jay. The bird swooped down, settled beside a fallen French fry, and sat pecking at it for nearly half a minute before Lucas noticed. Once he did, he stopped and stood there, obviously interested in this new thing. Not quite ready to quit the game, Sox came up behind Lucas and barked.
The sound was loud and energetic. It was the bark of a dog that wanted to play. Lucas always responded to that kind of bark, but this time he didn’t budge. He didn’t turn or acknowledge Sox in any way.
Strange, Meghan thought.
For him to do that to Grandma Lila or his mama was one thing, but ignoring Sox was something else entirely. He was crazy about the dog, loved him enough to leave a new toy or offer up the last chunk of cookie.
What’s different this time?
Lucas was almost impossible to understand. One moment he would be laughing and playful, then he’d turn away and nothing anyone said mattered. Sox was the singular exception. When Sox barked, Lucas always squealed with delight.
Meghan sat there, thinking back on the countless times she’d seen Lucas turn and squeal when Sox yapped that same playful bark. She’d seen him do it in the kitchen, in the living room, even upstairs in what was now his room. Two days earlier, Lucas had been in the backyard when she and Sox came home from their run. The dog darted out into the yard and gave that yappy bark, but Meghan couldn’t remember if Lucas had responded to Sox because he’d seen him or because he’d heard him.
Still behind Lucas, Sox barked again.
Lucas didn’t turn.
Did he not hear the dog when they were outside? And if that were the case, then why? What was different?
At home they were in a room with walls and a ceiling. It boxed the sound in. Noises seemed louder and caused a bit of a vibration in the air; at times she herself had felt it. Here in the open-air playground there was no vibration, and sounds, loud or small, were swallowed up by the cement or carried off on a breeze.
A question began to pick at Meghan’s mind. Was it possible Lucas didn’t hear Sox’s bark but felt it?
Life was full of possibilities, but probabilities were a lot harder to come by. Still, there was always a chance . . .
The thought that she might have discovered the reason for Lucas not talking was settling into her head when Tracy reappeared.
“I heard the commotion,” she said. “What was Sox barking about?”
“I’m not sure,” Meghan replied. “Could be he was trying to tell me something.”
“Oh. So now you understand dog language?”
“No,” Meghan said, laughing. “But I wish I did.”
Meghan made no mention of what she suspected. How could she when all she had was a hunch? Tracy had enough worry on her plate. Before Meghan added anything more, she’d have to be certain.
For the remainder of the afternoon, Meghan couldn’t stop thinking about the way the dog stayed behind Lucas and barked. When Lucas didn’t respond, the normal thing would have been for Sox to paw his back or circle around to the front for attention, but he didn’t.
Was he trying to show me something?
Meghan had known for years that dogs sense things people don’t. Their power of smell was a million times stronger than a person’s. They could follow a trail days old or smell smoke in the air when the fire was miles away. And their hearing was so sharp that from the far end of the house they could catch a baby’s whimper or the crinkle of a potato-chip bag. Although she’d never experienced it herself, Meghan had even heard stories of dogs that could tell beforehand when an earthquake was coming or an epileptic patient was going to have a seizure.
If all that’s true, couldn’t it be possible that Sox knows Lucas can’t hear? And if he does know, isn’t it also possible he’s trying to tell me?
Possible, maybe even probable.
A Book of Thoughts
At the dinner table that evening, Meghan was quieter than usual. She had a million thoughts bubbling through her brain, but they were cloudy and mixed up, not something she was ready to talk about. Shortly after they’d left McDonald’s, she’d remembered something their former classmate Gabriel Hawke had once said, and now she couldn’t get it out of her mind.
Gabriel had been born almost completely deaf but played the guitar as if his fingers had their own special magic. One summer evening when the smell of jasmine was in the air and a light breeze carried a whisper for miles in any direction, she’d heard the sound of Gabriel’s guitar. He was strumming a country song about a lost love. She followed the sound of that song to Claremont Street and found him sitting on the front porch.
When she stopped to listen, Gabriel invited her to sit. That evening she listened to him play for nearly an hour, song after song, with each one sounding more beautiful than the one before.
Everyone considered Gabriel deaf, but that evening, as Meghan watched his expression, she could have sworn he actually heard the music.
Later on, when he set the guitar aside, she stayed, and they talked for a long while. She asked him how it was possible to play an instrument so beautifully when he couldn’t hear the sound of his own music.
He gave a broad smile and said, “I don’t have to hear it. I can feel it.”
As they were clearing away the supper dishes, Meghan said, “Mama, do you remember the Hawke family who used to live over on Claremont?”
Lila glanced across with a puzzled expression. “Hawke?”
“They had a boy named Gabriel.”
Lila’s face brightened. “Oh, Miriam and Frank. Yes, I do remember. Their boy played guitar in a group at church.”
“They moved away a while back, and I was wondering if maybe you knew where they went.”
Lila wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “That was six or seven years ago, and I didn’t know Miriam all that well. I believe she was close with Sally Smith, so if you’re looking to find Miriam, you might try asking Sally.” She slid the container of leftover chicken into the refrigerator, then asked, “Why are you so interested in the Hawkes?”
“No reason,” Meghan said nonchalantly. “I passed by their house the other day and was just thinking about them.”
Lila laughed. “I swear, Meghan, you come up with the strangest things.”
After the counter was wiped clean and the plates loaded into the dishwasher, Meghan grabbed the leash and whistled for Sox. In the four short weeks he’d been with her, the after-dinner walk had become a ritual just as it had been with Clancy. Most evenings Meghan walked the same route she’d taken with Clancy, but tonight she turned right at the corner of Elk Lane instead of going straight.
Five blocks later, she made a left onto Claremont. When she came to the house where Gabriel Hawke had once lived, she stood for a moment and listened. She foolishly hoped to hear the sweet strains of Gabriel’s guitar, but there was only the sound of a squirrel scurrying through the bushes and laughter from a nearby television.
On the walk home, Meghan found herself wishing she could hear Gabriel play just one more song or again hear him tell of how he could feel the music in different parts of his body.
A
s she turned left onto Elk Lane, Meghan picked up the pace. Tonight she was anxious to sit down with her black-and-white composition book. There were nights when she felt compelled to write, and this was just such a night.
Her head was filled with thoughts, but thoughts were like dandelion puffs. They could drift away and be forgotten. Written words were different. They were solid and long-lasting. She could touch her finger to them and recall the emotion with which they had been penned. Written words remained in place, and she could revisit them time and time again until their meaning became clear. Tonight clarity was what she was searching for.
That night, when Meghan opened her journal to a fresh new page, she began with thoughts of Sox and how she was certain he had been trying to show her Lucas couldn’t hear him bark. After she detailed the events of the afternoon, she moved on to wondering why Sox had chosen to show her instead of Lucas’s mama. Before she got to the end to add a question mark, she knew the answer. Tracy would never see what she didn’t want to see.
It had taken her two years to see the flaws in Dominic’s character, and even now, after all that had happened, there was still a part of her mind that doubted the truth of what she knew.
Even as Meghan penned words of hope, she was almost certain this time she could not count on either her mama or Tracy. They both wanted to believe Lucas was simply a late talker and were not likely to change their minds without something more than her suspicion.
“Whatever has to be done,” she wrote, “I must do by myself.”
When there was nothing more to say about the situation, she moved on to writing about the new vet but stopped short of telling all her thoughts. It was too soon. She would wait. Perhaps after she met with him on Friday, there would be a story worth telling.
With only a scant half page about Dr. Tom Whitely, Meghan went back to thinking about Gabriel Hawke.
Recalling the evening they had sat together and talked, she pulled the box of journals from beneath her bed and dug through them. She scanned three other books before she found the one she was looking for. In it there were four pages about Gabriel and how he’d described feeling the pitch and tone of a song in his body, the low sounds in the large muscles of his legs, the higher notes in his face and neck, and the thunderous melody in his chest. There was also the story of how his deafness had gone undetected for more than two years. In loopy letters stretched across the page, it told how after two years of nothing but babble, Gabriel’s parents discovered his deafness and taught him to talk.
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