One Careful Owner: Love Me, Love My Dog

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  She knew I took bedtime seriously.

  Still chattering at top speed, she took Alex by the hand for the second time that day and led him up the stairs into her bedroom with me following behind, almost redundant.

  I saw Alex blink at the explosion of pink that was Katie’s room, then manfully remove Barley Bear from a chair and pull it up to her bed.

  I tucked her in and stepped back as she handed Alex a book.

  “This chapter,” she said imperiously.

  “Please,” I reminded her softly.

  “This chapter, please, Alex, pretty please with a cherry on top,” said my smartass daughter.

  I threw her another look which she ignored, and I retreated to the hallway, pretending to straighten all the photo frames on the wall as I listened to the soft murmur of voices, and then the soothing tones of Alex reading to my daughter.

  I felt a lump in my throat as I stood there listening to the rumble of his voice, the patience and pleasure expressed in every word. Katie’s father didn’t read to her, had never read to her. It wasn’t fair.

  I leaned against the wall, choked with unwanted emotions, memories of my own father reading stories to me, to Stella, his favorite part of the day, and ours.

  As Alex read ‘What Katy Did Next’, diligently acting out the voices of genteel women-folk from a century in the past, my eyes blurred.

  Was he the right man at the wrong time, or just the wrong man? I didn’t know. Maybe there was no right or wrong, but just two people who were fumbling their way through life.

  Finally, Katie was silent, and I heard Alex switch off her bedside light and tiptoe out of the room.

  Wiping away a stray tear, I headed to the kitchen to make coffee.

  When he appeared behind me, I’d managed to pull myself together.

  “How did it go?”

  “She didn’t yell at me.”

  “Hmm, seems you passed the test.” I looked at him thoughtfully. “You’ve never read a bedtime story before, have you?”

  “Nope, a bedtime-story first-timer,” he admitted. “Couldn’t you tell?”

  “No, you’re a natural. Believe me, you’d know if Katie didn’t like you.”

  “And she’s given me permission to kiss her mom,” he said.

  I wanted him, but I couldn’t have him. Not like this.

  “I can’t ask you to stay the night,” I said, in a quiet but firm voice, “but I don’t want you to go yet either.”

  He gave a small smile.

  “Thanks. I wasn’t sure when you invited me . . . if it was a date?”

  He ended the sentence as a question.

  “I wasn’t sure either,” I said honestly, “but I think it is—if you want it to be.”

  We stared at each other across the room as I waited for him to answer.

  But he didn’t.

  “Should I put some music on?” I asked, hoping to break the sudden awkward tension.

  He nodded and retreated to the sofa while I knelt on the floor and flicked through my ancient CD collection. Rock was too loud, Country was too depressing—and he might hate it, Soul was too . . . everything. Suddenly, I found the perfect accompaniment to silence.

  “Do you like guitar music?”

  He shrugged, his intense gaze saying he didn’t care about the choice of music.

  Soon the soft sounds of a Spanish guitar floated out through the speakers; it was emotional, beautiful, and the atmosphere in the room shifted, building, until I could feel it pressing down on me; or maybe it was spiraling out of me, and the way I felt was affecting the music. I couldn’t tell.

  When I’d gathered every scrap of bravery, I walked toward him slowly and lowered myself across his thighs, so my knees were pressing into the back of the sofa and my body was hovering over his.

  He didn’t smile and he didn’t seem surprised. He simply rested his hands on my hips, his fingers twitching over the fabric of my skirt, and watched my face as if he could read the future in it.

  I felt him hardening beneath me, and I wanted to say something, to tell him how unlike me this was, how much I wanted him, and how much that scared me. I couldn’t find the words.

  My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Frustration washed over me, and maybe that meant I understood what it was like to be him a little more.

  His fingers dug into my hips as if he was anchoring himself in place. I raised my shaking hands, cupping his cheeks and lowering my lips to his.

  Alex seemed frozen in place, so this time, I took the lead, teasing his mouth open until he responded, his hands gliding up to my waist and tugging me against him.

  The intensity of our kiss increased until I was holding his face fiercely, and his fingers dug into the soft flesh at my waist with a grip that was almost brutal.

  I whimpered when he lowered me to the sofa, noises coming from my mouth that I’d never heard before. He kept his weight on his arms so he didn’t crush me, but I could feel the length of his body against mine, and the few inches between our hips didn’t feel safe at all.

  I ran my hands up his back, dragging his t-shirt with my nails, feeling the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his bunched muscles. God, this was too much and too little. I was trying to stop, trying to take it slowly, trying to race ahead. My brain was scrambled.

  I wanted to be brave, I wanted to be slutty, I wanted to be the woman who threw caution to the wind. But I couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

  I pulled away slowly, and he started to reach for me again, but managed to stop himself. His eyes crinkled, as if he was in pain, as if that thin veneer of civilization was close to being stripped away, his baser instincts taking over.

  He leaned his forehead against mine.

  “I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, but we have to stop. Katie could walk in at any second and I can’t . . .”

  His body eased away from me, but I could feel the tension in his arms as I gripped his biceps. I felt as taut as a bow string, my body tingling with suppressed energy. I breathed out slowly, calming my racing heart, but there was nothing I could do about the rigid flesh pressing between his jean-clad legs. He knew I could feel it, but I didn’t say anything and he didn’t move away.

  We stared at each other, eyes darkened with lust, truth and lies hovering between us, an ocean of doubt.

  Eventually, he sat up slowly, releasing me reluctantly.

  “I want you to stay,” I said softly, “and that’s why you have to go. Do you understand?”

  He nodded once, and I think he did understand. I was protecting myself—and Katie.

  He scraped his hands over his hair, blowing out a long, frustrated breath, then surprised me with the smile that stole across his face.

  “C-come over . . . tomorrow. You and Katie. It’s going to be hot. We can . . . swim.”

  I matched his smile with relief and happiness.

  Tomorrow was Labor Day, but the only plans Katie and I had included a gallon of Rocky Road and a ‘High School Musical’ movie marathon.

  “A swim in the lake?”

  He nodded.

  “It sounds wonderful, and I’d love to see your place. Should we come in the afternoon?”

  “For lunch.”

  I laughed softly. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook.”

  “Not well. Stan likes my cooking.”

  “How reassuring. I’m sure Stan’s a very discerning diner.”

  Stan opened one eye at the sound of his name.

  He lurched upright, stretching out his spine with a faint popping sound, then he plodded to the sofa and rested his head on Alex’s knee, gazing up at him adoringly

  I probably had the same expression on my face. Which was kind of pathetic.

  Alex stroked Stan’s head, sighed and pulled his keys out of his pocket. I tried to look away while he discreetly adjusted himself. But the knowledge that he was still hard under those worn jeans heated my whole body with a blush of arousal.

  “Time to go, Stan,” Alex said qu
ietly. “Say thank you.”

  Stan blinked, his tail wagging tiredly, then licked my hand.

  I laughed.

  “Love you, too, you big lug.” I turned to smile at Alex. “So, we’ll see you tomorrow. Both of you.”

  And my careless, thoughtless heart raced as the words etched themselves into my brain.

  He kissed me chastely on the cheek, much the way he had when he’d arrived hours earlier, but a far cry from the scorching kisses of a few minutes ago. It did nothing to cool the heat I felt for him.

  I watched him load Stan into the truck, and with a brief wave, he drove away.

  I wrapped my arms around myself as his tail-lights disappeared into the night.

  That was not how I’d expected today to end.

  I admit that I’d been a little intimidated inviting Alex into our home. Not just because he was this large, brooding presence, but awful as it seems, because of his speech impediment. I’d wondered if we’d all be sitting there mute. Although his silence wasn’t the deliberate aggression that Katie’s father had wielded like a weapon, it was simply the absence of words. But Katie liked him and had conversations with him from the very beginning.

  So, I’d taken a chance. And from the moment he arrived, he fit.

  His thoughtful gift for Katie moved me. It was perfect. And I loved my candy. I’d planned to save it, but now I felt like eating it all in one go.

  I sighed.

  Admitting that I was attracted to him—that I liked him—it had raised the stakes. I wanted to be brave, I wanted to open myself to the possibility of love. But I had Katie’s needs to consider.

  His eyes had flared when I kissed him, and I felt like I’d lit a fuse that I couldn’t put out. I’d definitely felt how aroused he’d been. I’d been so close to inviting him into my heart—and into my bed.

  But no matter how handsome he was, especially when he remembered to smile, no matter how kind he was to Katie, or how much I was attracted to him, I couldn’t take a risk tonight.

  His beautiful eyes had seemed so wounded.

  Telling him to leave was the right thing to do.

  I felt awful.

  And then relieved when he invited us over tomorrow.

  Then worried.

  And nervous.

  God, what a mess.

  Dawn

  KATIE WAS EXCITED when I told her we were spending the day at the lake. And she did her happy dance when I said we’d be with Alex and Stan, although I couldn’t tell you which of them she liked the most. She adored Stan, treating him somewhere between a child and the brother she’d never had. And Alex . . . I knew she liked him a lot. Too much, when I thought about how few times they’d actually met. But I couldn’t deny that both of us were excited to see him again so soon.

  I packed the car with beach towels, sunscreen and bottles of water, then wrapped up as much of yesterday’s leftover food as I could, and we piled into the car, singing along to songs from ‘Frozen’. Not very seasonal, in my view, but Katie sang them all year round regardless of the weather. We knew them off by heart.

  “Is Aunty Stella going to be there?” she asked suddenly.

  “Not today.”

  Katie sighed, but didn’t say anything else. I wondered how long it would be before she demanded answers—I had no idea how I’d explain why I’d fallen out with my sister.

  The turning to Alex’s cabin was half a mile past Stella’s, but far less well signposted. In fact, I only made the turn at the last second because I spotted a gap in the trees. We bounced along the dirt until the tunnel of foliage opened into a sunlit glade.

  It seemed magical, and the profound silence was almost unearthly, a quiet paradise, an Eden.

  “Beautiful,” I whispered.

  The cabin was completely transformed and quite lovely—a two-story, white-painted clapboard cottage with a deep porch, protected by the wide branches of a large copper beech tree. As the sun struck the leaves, the whole house was bathed with soft, amber light, and in the distance, the lake glittered, welcoming us.

  I was about to drive closer and park, when Alex came striding from the side of the house, his eyes stormy and a deep frown creasing his forehead.

  He ground to a halt when he saw us, his expression distinctly unfriendly.

  He held up his hand like a traffic cop, forcing me to halt.

  The smile froze on my face and Katie looked shocked. Then Alex turned and stomped away from us.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Katie asked softly, clutching the packet of dog treats that she’d brought for Stan.

  “I’m not sure, honey. Wait here a sec and let me go talk with Alex.”

  I opened the car door quietly and slid out, staring in the direction he’d gone.

  I knew he heard me walking up behind him, my slow footsteps crunching on the gravel.

  “You should stay in the c-car,” he said tiredly, glancing over his shoulder.

  He didn’t seem angry anymore which I took as a good sign.

  “Alex, you’re scaring me a little. What’s going on? Oh!”

  Then I saw what he’d been trying to hide—a dead raccoon. Very dead. As in missing its body, one glassy eyeball swinging from its skull.

  He shoveled the head into a garbage sack, an expression of revulsion on his face.

  “Did . . . did Stan do that?”

  “N-no!” he said angrily, his stutter returning. “N-no!”

  He took a couple of seconds to breathe deeply.

  “No,” he said again, more calmly this time. “I didn’t want Katie to see.”

  “Okay. Um . . . do you want us to go . . . ?”

  He shook his head, frowning again. Then without speaking, he stalked off, the garbage bag clutched in his hand. I didn’t want to ask how he was going to dispose of the raccoon’s grizzly remains.

  Uncertain whether or not it was a good idea to stick around, I walked back to the car. But then Stan appeared at the front door, his tongue lolling out of his mouth in a wide smile.

  Katie waved, almost as if she expected him to raise a paw and wave back, but he did wag his tail, and she giggled. I decided that we’d wait for a while. If Alex’s strange mood didn’t improve, we would leave.

  Although I was disturbed by the dismembered raccoon. I knew that they were preyed on by bobcats and Eastern coyotes—but those were usually found in far more wooded areas and further away from humans. Something in the forest must have killed it, but what? It was odd.

  Hiding my concerns from Katie, I parked in front of the cottage and she leapt out, skipping straight to Stan and talking a mile a minute.

  I opened my trunk to pull out the picnic basket I’d brought, and jumped when Alex appeared suddenly behind me.

  I held my hand over my heart, feeling the wild rhythm under my trembling fingers.

  “You scared me,” I said, attempting to laugh.

  Alex grimaced and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

  “S-sorry,” he mumbled.

  We stared at each other awkwardly, until he leaned over me, lifted out the picnic basket with one hand, plucked my beach towels from me with the other, and walked away toward the lake, Stan ambling after him, Katie by his side.

  With nothing else to do, I slung my purse over my shoulder, locked the car and followed.

  The track was thick with dust, sending up tiny puffs as I walked, and soon my white sneakers had turned a light brownish-gray.

  Alex was wearing flip-flops, blue board shorts and a loose t-shirt. Even so, I could see that his shoulders were tense and he seemed far more anxious than yesterday. If it hadn’t been for Katie chatting to Stan, oblivious of the strained silence between us, I would have turned around and left.

  At least the view was worth the journey.

  The lake sparkled in the sunshine, ripples lapping against the shoreline. The bright blue sky was cloudless, and a soft breeze made the tops of the trees murmur. It was very lovely, tranquil, and strangely soothing.

  I
glanced across at Alex whose lips were pressed together grimly as he watched me from under his lashes. When he saw me looking, he abruptly turned away.

  I discreetly checked my phone, relieved to see that I had a clear signal. Alex was making me nervous.

  He laid the picnic basket on top of a large blanket, and I could see three huge coolers and a portable grill next to a small campfire, all ready to cook with. Not only that, but he’d bought a set of pink paper plates decorated with rainbows and matching plastic cups. Even the plastic knives and forks were pink. And I knew he’d bought them especially for Katie.

  All my unease dissolved, and I smiled at the thought of him trawling through Walmart for everything he could find that was pink.

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely. “This is amazing. Seriously, Alex. Thank you.”

  I was rewarded with the tiniest smile as he shrugged his shoulders. Then he kneeled down to place the grill pan over the fire, sitting back on his heels as it began to heat up. He’d ringed his cooking area with a circle of flat stones and he also had a bucket of water standing by. Three small cushions were laid out on the blanket, and there was a soccer ball and several of Stan’s toys. I could see that he’d worked really hard to make today fun for us.

  “Mom, Stan wants to go swimming? Can we?”

  Stan yawned and flopped down on the blanket, his head on a green cushion, not the least interested in swimming or any other kind of activity.

  “I think Stan would rather have lunch and take a nap,” I pointed out. “I’ll go swimming with you later.”

  “Mo-om!” she whined.

  “I’ll take her,” Alex said softly.

  “But you’re getting lunch ready,” I argued, pointing at the uncooked hotdogs and veggie burgers lined up next to the sizzling pan.

  “It can wait . . . and she shouldn’t swim right after eating.” He paused, glancing between me and Katie as if worried that he’d said the wrong thing. “If that’s okay with you . . .”

  Katie turned her pleading eyes to mine, and I knew I’d been outvoted. Not that I cared in the least.

  “Fine,” I said with a smile. “If Alex doesn’t mind taking you now . . .”

  Whatever else I might have said was drowned out as Katie screeched with pleasure and threw herself at Alex.