One Careful Owner: Love Me, Love My Dog

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “I guess I am a bit too old for you after all, K-katie.”

  She thought about this for a moment.

  “Well, will you be my mom’s boyfriend? I know she really likes you, and she hardly ever likes anyone.”

  What?! I’d been about to go and save Alex, but now I stood frozen, mid-step.

  “Did she say that?” he asked curiously.

  “Nuh-uh,” Katie replied, shaking her head, “but it’s something a woman knows.” She sounded eighteen instead of eight. Then she said, “Are you dating Aunty Stella?”

  And again, What?

  “N-no!”

  “But you like my mom?”

  He nodded, more cautious now.

  “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “I told her to wear makeup today in case you were here, but she’d only wear mascara, not lipstick. Do you like lipstick on girls?”

  Alex looked as though he was beginning to sweat from the inquisition. I didn’t know whether to intervene, listen to his answer, or run the heck away!

  “S-sometimes. It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On the girl; on the c-color lipstick, I guess.”

  “Well, what color would you like on my mom?”

  “Uh, w-well . . .”

  Okay, that was waaaay more than enough. And when he saw me, the look on Alex’s face was priceless—the obvious relief in his expression seemed to say that the cavalry had arrived just in time.

  Stan opened one eye to see who was coming, then closed it again with a heavy sigh.

  “Katie! Are you bothering Mr. Winters?”

  “His name’s Alex, Mom. He said I could call him that. He thinks you’re pretty. He says you should wear lipstick, just like I said. He was going to tell me what color you should wear.”

  Alex looked as embarrassed as I felt—which was very.

  “Katie!” I said, a little breathlessly. “That’s enough.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fine, Mom. I’m just trying to help. You haven’t had a boyfriend in forever. And, he’s not dating Aunty Stella because I asked him and he said no.”

  Then she stood up and walked away with a very adult expression on her face.

  “God, sorry!” I stuttered. “Sometimes she’s just so . . . sorry.”

  I was surprised when Alex laughed, looking far more relaxed than I’d expected, given his recent interrogation.

  “She’s a great k-kid.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should go, especially now that Katie was no longer chaperoning us. But Alex was smiling at me, and it was a lovely smile. Seeing him this relaxed, I started to see possibilities that I had no business looking for.

  “Do you mind if I sit here for a while?” I asked carefully. “Nancy and Spen are lovely, but . . .”

  “Too m-many people?”

  He echoed my words from earlier as I gave him a wry smile.

  “Is that why you’re hiding out down here?”

  He nodded, that same small smile making him seem so much more approachable, friendly even.

  I plopped down crisscross applesauce and sighed. “Thank you for not asking. About me and Stella. It’s a long story.”

  He nodded understandingly, then shrugged. He really could communicate a lot with his shrugs.

  “Well, thank you . . . um . . . I’m sort of surprised you’re still here, too.”

  He frowned, as if it was a puzzle to him, as well.

  I paused, wondering what to say next, then gestured to his bottle of water. “Aren’t you having a drink? I think they’ve got light beer since you’re driving.”

  He frowned again and shook his head.

  This time, we lapsed into complete silence, but it was a surprisingly companionable peace. I didn’t feel the need to talk for the sake of it—maybe because I knew that he didn’t want or need that either. And unlike most of the first dates I’d been on, it didn’t seem likely that he’d talk endlessly about himself. Well, obviously not. He was easy company.

  He leaned back against the tree, his eyes closing with a contented sigh that curved his full lips upwards.

  I liked that he felt comfortable enough to do that, and it gave me the opportunity to study him close up. I was intrigued by the tiny flaws in his perfect face: a small scar on his chin, a mark on his ear where I guessed he’d once worn an earring, three freckles beneath his right eye.

  Then my eyes dropped down to his hands, folded easily in his lap, and I saw that he had a tattoo on the inside of his left wrist, the cursive script running up toward his elbow.

  “What does your tattoo say?” I asked, curiously. “Is it Latin?”

  His eyes opened and he blinked at me. Then he frowned, his relaxed expression disappearing. It was like seeing storm clouds roll across the sun, blotting out the light, and for a moment I thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  “I-italian,” he said at last.

  Surprising myself, I lifted his hand, bringing the small script closer to me as I peered down.

  “Siamo tutti creature di Dio,” I read carefully. “What does it mean?”

  He shifted uncomfortably as I held his hand. His palm was warm and dry, but I could feel calluses, too. Spen had mentioned that he was fixing up Old Joe’s cabin.

  I replaced his hand carefully in his lap, and his fingers twitched restlessly as he shifted away from me minutely. I waited patiently, hoping that he trusted me enough to share this little nugget, and to know that I wouldn’t be gossiping about him tomorrow.

  He took a deep breath. I recognized it now as his way of coping, of planning what he was going to say, giving the words a better chance of being born. I wondered if he’d learned how to do that himself, or whether a speech therapist had taught him.

  “W-we are all c-creatures of one f-f-f-family.”

  His stutter was worse, which meant he was anxious now. I frowned, puzzled as I digested his words, and then I had a lightbulb moment.

  “Oh! I know this! St. Francis? Isn’t that one of his sayings? I always liked that one. It makes sense that you of all people would have this,” and I glanced down at Stan, snoring softly in the shade. “I guess Stan is your family, isn’t that right, boy?”

  Stan opened one eye lazily when he heard his name, then dropped his head back to the grass with a soft thud, making me chuckle quietly.

  “Francis of Assisi was the patron saint of animals, wasn’t he?”

  It wasn’t really a question, but Alex seemed even more uncomfortable with the subject for some reason. I was about to change it, when I heard a familiar and unwelcome sound.

  I sat up straighter, looking in the direction of the buffet tables.

  “Oh no! Bob’s here—Stella’s ex-husband. She’s been drinking and, oh, I don’t like the look of this. I’ll talk to him. Will you take care of Stella?”

  “Uh . . .”

  I didn’t give him time to answer as I stood quickly and held out my hand to help him up. Hesitating slightly, he took it, rising in one smooth movement that brought him close to me.

  My pulse leapt, and realizing that I was still gripping his hand, dropped it quickly. He was staring at me when raised voices drew my attention back to the other drama going on by the barbeque pit. It looked as if Stella was about to skewer her ex.

  “ . . . and all that time you were screwing that little bitch in our bed!”

  “Shut your mouth, Stel, you’re a drunk.”

  “And you’re a lousy fuck, Bob. She’s welcome to you! But I’m keeping the house!”

  Several of the moms were holding their hands over their kids’ ears, or trying to pull them out of ear-shot—which would have to be somewhere in the next state.

  We walked over quickly, aware of the embarrassed glances from other party-goers as they pretended to ignore Stella and Bob’s sideshow.

  Stan trotted at our heels, but as soon as we got close to them, he growled, his hackles raised and his
lips pulled back.

  Alex’s head whipped in Bob’s direction, and his eyes narrowed. I had no idea what that was about and I didn’t have time to ask.

  Instead, I took Bob’s elbow, trying to get his attention discreetly, and another woman laid a cautious hand on Stella’s arm to slow the flurry of ugly words she was spouting.

  “Alex!” shrieked Stella, suddenly flinging her arms around his neck as he approached. “He’s just insulted me!”

  He froze, shock registering on his face as everyone stared. Even Stan looked surprised.

  Then she grabbed his face and kissed him hard, before whipping around and snarling at Bob, “At least I know what it’s like to have a real man now.”

  She laid a proprietary hand on Alex’s stomach, and I could see several of Spen’s guests eyeing them speculatively.

  “Is that right?” sneered Bob, as I failed to tug him away. “You’ve had so many men you can’t keep track.”

  “Oh no,” I muttered

  “You bastard!” Stella screamed, and tried to launch herself at him.

  Alex moved faster, catching her by the waist and pulling her back, dodging her flailing hands as Stan began to bark loudly.

  “Stella!” I cried out, worried and appalled. Then I turned to Alex, speaking urgently, “Can you get her out of here? Please!”

  He nodded and gripped Stella’s wrists firmly, dragging her behind him even as she tried to wrench her hands free and throw herself at Bob’s girlfriend, who was cowering behind a sun umbrella. She continued to fight Alex the whole way, and Stan was still barking his head off.

  “Stupid bitch never could hold her alcohol,” Bob laughed.

  “There are children here, Bob!” I snapped. “Have a little dignity.”

  “Tell that to your drunk of a sister!”

  “You’re Nancy and Spen’s guest,” I reminded him more quietly.

  He turned his back on me without a word, but at least he’d shut the hell up. He strode across to his shocked girlfriend, smiling smugly at the uneasy guests.

  I shook my head and hurried after Stella. I’d never seen her so out of control. Bob didn’t bring out the best in her, and things had been a thousand times worse since the divorce, but this . . .

  She was still fighting Alex, and he was manhandling her all the way to his truck, his face stern and determined. I flinched when she tried to knee him in the groin, but he twisted away just in time, catching the blow on his hip. He grimaced and Stan barked even louder. Several of the guests backed away from him.

  Nancy came hurrying towards us as Alex hauled Stella through the house and out into the front yard.

  “Oh, dear! Oh, Stella!” and she pulled her into a hug.

  To my surprise, Stella collapsed into her arms and started sobbing. I was relieved someone else had taken over for that.

  I didn’t get along with my sister, but I hated seeing her like this . . . and I knew how it felt to have someone cheat on you. A new compassion for her obvious misery made me soften toward her.

  I hung back as Nancy took charge.

  “Will you take her home, Alex?” Nancy asked worriedly.

  As Stella clung to Nancy, he nodded reluctantly and glanced across at me.

  I wanted to read something important into that look, but his face was hard and closed, and I had no way of knowing what he was thinking.

  He looked away, and much to Stan’s annoyance, hefted him into the back seat of the truck. Then he helped Stella into the passenger seat, and turned to Nancy.

  “W-where?” he asked, pointing to Stella.

  Nancy gave him an odd look, which made me think that she’d believed Stella’s outburst but was now confused because he didn’t know where Stella lived. She frowned, shaking her head, and then gave him the directions.

  I ducked back inside the house, so I didn’t know if Alex saw me, but Stella did, her eyes glinting with malice as she stared coldly.

  I watched as they drove away, together, until the truck turned a corner and they were out of sight.

  I couldn’t help wondering how much of this was planned and how much was just opportunistic. Either way, Stella had left with Alex, and her eyes told me that she’d won this round.

  It exhausted me just thinking about it—it had been a long time since I’d considered this a game. She was my sister. We should be supporting each other. But that was years in the past.

  Seeing her with Alex bothered me more than I liked. And I hated she’d used him the way she had, so publicly. I’d seen the shock and confusion on his face when she’d thrown herself at him. I could only assume that she wanted to convince Bob and all our friends that they were together, effectively cutting me out of the picture.

  Good old Stella—killing two birds with one stone.

  Not many men said no to Stella—and I had no reason to think that Alex would be one of the few. Our connection had felt real, but maybe that was just in my head. In any case, it had been brief.

  I sighed. My older sister had always been the glamorous one, the popular one. I was quieter, more academic. And the only time a man had chosen me over her, well, that was almost a complete disaster. Except I had Katie. And I wouldn’t be without her for the whole world.

  “Are you okay, Dawn?”

  Nancy’s words were kind and I felt tears spring to my eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, offering her a watery smile.

  “He seems like a nice young man,” she said tentatively. “A little on the quiet side.” And she paused. “Too quiet for Stella, I’d say.”

  Then she patted my arm and walked away.

  Dawn

  I DIDN’T MIND pulling the night shift. I only did it once or twice a month. Katie enjoyed it because she got to stay with her friend Holly, and I enjoyed it because it gave me a chance to get up early and take Tanner for a ride—if it hadn’t been too busy the night before.

  We shared the night shifts with a larger veterinary practice in Erie, but tonight was my turn. I was enjoying the rare solitude, peace and quiet of being at home by myself.

  I only lived 15 minutes from the office, and had the emergency calls switched to my cell phone. It cut down on costs not having a service to answer calls over the weekend. Fortunately, nobody abused the emergency call number. Well, it happened occasionally, but it was rare, and Gary would have a quiet word where necessary.

  I missed my daughter, but I allowed myself to cherish these moments. What I didn’t enjoy as much was being woken in the middle of the night. But that was part and parcel of a vet’s on-call life.

  My phone rang, waking me from a deep sleep, and I fumbled for the light switch, squinting at the clock. Nearly 2AM.

  I answered on the third ring, hoping I sounded alert. “Petz Pets Emergency Line?”

  “D-Dawn!”

  The stutter gave him away, but I would have recognized his voice anywhere.

  “Alex?”

  “Y-yeah!”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, definitely more alert now. “Are you okay?”

  “S-s-s . . . v-v-v . . . Fuck!”

  He screamed with frustration as he failed to get the words out, and I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

  “Alex,” I said, speaking as soothingly as I could, given that his voice and the sudden wakening had my heart was slamming against my ribs, “take a deep breath. Try to stay calm. Is it Stan?”

  He grunted something unintelligible, then muttered, “Y-yeah!”

  “Okay, come to the office. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

  I hung up and yanked my jeans on, shoving my phone into my back pocket. I’d slept in my bra and t-shirt so all I needed was shoes and a coat and I was good to go.

  As usual, I’d left a thermos of coffee by the front door, ready for the night shift, and I grabbed it as I ran to my car.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was at the office. I flipped on all the lights and threw a plastic apron over my clothes as I prepped the examination room.

  Time ticke
d by in silence, and I became increasingly anxious. Alex lived nearer to the office than I did, so where the hell was he? Had something happened? Had there been an accident? Maybe Stan? I wanted to call him back, but was reluctant to do that when he’d be driving and was obviously upset.

  But then I saw headlights bleaching the road outside the office, and his truck screeched into the parking lot, tires churning on the gravel.

  I opened the door as Alex leapt from the truck, then staggered inside with Stan . . . no, it wasn’t Stan.

  Alex was carrying a dog that I’d never seen before, unmoving and covered with blood that glistened on his dark fur.

  My heart sank, this dog was already dead, but Alex didn’t know it.

  He looked terrible, his face pale, his eyes wide and worried, blood on his face and smeared across his clothes. He’d been in a fight, that was obvious, but there was an eerie wildness in his eyes that had me stepping back.

  “Put him on the table,” I ordered.

  Under the stark whiteness of the operating table, the dog looked even worse, his fur matted everywhere with dried blood, one ear hanging off and his cheek and throat torn. But his eyes were fixed and dilated, and his tongue lolled from his mouth.

  I hated this. I hated seeing an animal so mutilated, but I had to do my job. I pulled out a stethoscope and listened intently. Nothing. I listened again, confirming what I already knew. This dog had been dead for a while. Now my job was to take care of the owner . . . well, the person who’d brought in this poor creature.

  I stood up slowly and sighed.

  “I’m sorry, Alex. He’s gone.”

  His eyes screwed shut and then he slammed his hand on the table, making me jump.

  I felt very alone in this office by myself in the middle of the night. Fear seeped into me, and I touched my back pocket, reassured that I had my phone nearby.

  The tide of Alex’s anger seemed to turn, and he slumped into a chair, defeated, and pressed his fists against his eyes, cursing softly.

  At that moment, he seemed more alone, more broken than I’d ever seen him. I needed to . . . I don’t know . . . connect, reassure, something that showed him he wasn’t alone.

  And I wanted to know who’d hit him. He blinked when I touched his chin, turning his head this way and that, examining him closely.