One Careful Owner: Love Me, Love My Dog

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  Her expression was pleading again.

  “I had a failed engagement and a failed marriage behind me. I was a thirty-six year old divorced alcoholic whose sister wouldn’t speak to her. I’ve failed at everything that’s important. So . . .” she took a long, shuddering breath. “I started going to AA meetings, and I began to see things more clearly.”

  I interrupted her quietly.

  “Did Mom and Dad know about this?”

  “Yes, but I only told them two weeks ago. I needed to know that I could keep it up—the sobriety. They were pretty mad that I hadn’t told them before. But I didn’t want to fail in public again, you know? I wanted to be able to say that I was a recovering alcoholic, and for it to be true.”

  She stared down at her hands.

  I knew how much it cost her to tell me all of this. She was stripping her soul bare, and her braveness confounded me.

  “And is it true? Have you stopped drinking, Stel?”

  She nodded, a small smile of pride lifting her lips.

  “A hundred days sober, Dawn. A hundred days.”

  “Wow! That’s amazing . . . congratulations.”

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  I smiled at her tentatively. It felt new and slightly awkward. But good. It felt good to smile at my sister and mean it.

  “It hasn’t been easy,” she continued quietly. “I wanted to come to you a million times, but I needed to get through this first.”

  “You didn’t have to do it alone, Stel.”

  “Yes, I think I did. But thank you for saying that. I wanted to fix things with you. I didn’t know how, but I wanted to try.”

  I licked my lips.

  “Where does Alex fit in?”

  She gave me a worried look.

  “I was driving through town last night and I saw his truck outside the bar. He’d told me he was an alcoholic, so as soon as I saw where he was parked, I was concerned. I thought . . . I’m not sure what I thought, but then I saw him, and he just looked so . . . so broken.”

  I sucked in a deep breath.

  “Stan died. His dog.”

  “I know. Well, I figured it out eventually—he wasn’t very coherent. So I got him in my car and drove him home. On the way, he threw up all over me and all over the interior of the car. I just hope the detailer can get the smell of vomit out of the car,” and she wrinkled her nose, startling a laugh out of me.

  Her eyes lit up and she smiled back.

  “It was totally disgusting! I made him get in the shower and go to bed. But he was so drunk, I was afraid he’d be sick in his sleep. So I stayed . . .”

  “And you needed something to wear.”

  “Yes! And that’s all! I promise! The man loves you, Dawn. Really loves you. And he’s devastated because he thinks that he’s ruined everything with you. But I can see that you care about him, so please don’t let him go because you think I did something . . . he loves you and so do I. All I want is for you and Katie to be happy. And, like I said, I want my sister back.”

  I wanted to believe her. Sincerity shone in her eyes, and I could see the hope trembling behind them, the desperation that I believe everything she’d said.

  I stood up and walked across to my sister. And then we were hugging each other and crying, apologizing and crying some more.

  Stella hugged me tightly, and it felt good. It felt right.

  When we untangled ourselves, Stella whispered in my ear.

  “Go to him, Dawn. Give him a chance. Give yourself a chance.”

  I must have fallen asleep outside by Stan’s grave, because when I jerked awake, bone cold, the sun had shifted several degrees and the shadows were deepening across the forest.

  Then I saw what had woken me.

  “Dawn,” I croaked, trying to sit upright, wincing when a sharp pain shot up my neck from the awkward angle.

  “Sorry I woke you.”

  I rubbed my eyes, unable to believe that she was here. I didn’t need to explain what I’d been doing outside. She’d been there when I buried Stan.

  I stared up at her, but then she sat on the ground opposite me, her knees pulled against her chest.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked cautiously.

  I sighed and rubbed my hand over the scruff on my jaw.

  “Ashamed. Stupid. Disappointed in myself. Missing Stan. Hung over.”

  She didn’t say anything, she just continued to stare.

  “Stella came to see me,” she said at last. “I want to believe her . . .”

  “I didn’t sleep with her.” I shook my head. “No. You’re the person I want to be with.”

  “You didn’t come to me,” she said sadly, her voice tired, worn paper thin. “You didn’t give me a chance to help you. You went to a bar and got drunk instead.”

  I winced.

  “That was . . . I wasn’t making good decisions. I’m sorry about that. Hell, I’m sorry about everything that I did yesterday. It was just . . . too much.”

  “I know, I could see that.”

  I let my head thud backwards against the tree trunk. “Dawn, I’m an alcoholic. My first instinct will always be to drink. I’ve just got to keep fighting against it. I’d been sober for nearly a whole year, but after everything that’s happened, I broke, and I can’t tell you how angry I am with myself.”

  She sighed.

  “I really am sorry about Stan. I know how much he meant to you. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t do more. I tried everything, but . . .”

  “It was his time. I know. And I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean those things I said. I don’t blame you.”

  Her shoulders slumped, some of the tension leaving them.

  “Thank you. I wish . . . I hoped . . .” and her eyes met mine. “Ever since Stella came over . . . even before that . . . I’ve been thinking about you, about us, pretty much nonstop. But I can’t risk this with Katie.”

  I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse, but then Dawn went and proved me wrong.

  As we stared at each other, doubt clouding her eyes, I abandoned any scraps of pride.

  “Will you give me another chance?” I said at last.

  She sighed and looked away.

  “I want to, but I don’t know if that would be smart. Not right now. It’s too soon. I think . . . I’d always be waiting for it to happen again, walking on eggshells. I can’t live like that.”

  A sharp pain jabbed at my battered heart.

  Hadn’t she said enough already? Did she really think she needed to wield her sword of truth again? I only had one neck, and I’d stuck it out far enough already.

  I wanted to tell her that she’d already given me more than I’d ever dared to hope for or deserved. But I didn’t. Couldn’t.

  Instead, my voice was bitter, accusing.

  “I’m not blaming you. I wouldn’t take a chance on me either.”

  Her eyes were sad as she pushed herself upright.

  “I’ll see you around, Alex.”

  “I doubt it. I don’t need a vet anymore.”

  Her jaw snapped shut and she walked away.

  And yes, I could make the day suck even more by being a complete asshole. But I didn’t follow her.

  The weather grew colder and the ice in my heart that had begun to thaw had frozen again with Dawn’s words. She couldn’t be with a man who’d been an alcoholic. The End.

  I did a lot of thinking during the next couple of weeks. There wasn’t any work left to do on the house other than regular cleaning. It only took one morning before the place could have passed muster by a Drill Sergeant at boot camp.

  I missed Stan. The house was so silent. Even when Stan had been asleep, his quiet presence had filled the place. Now only his memories lived here.

  I missed Dawn, and Katie, as well.

  The empty burn inside was painful. I wanted to fall apart again. What was the point of fighting so hard when it all turned to shit?

  But there was one bright spot, a ray of hope—fro
m the unlikeliest of people.

  Stella came over each evening and I made her supper. I’d told her that the evenings were the toughest time of the day, when I was at my weakest, so she made sure I was kept entertained. Plus, she was a lousy cook and had been living on takeout since her divorce.

  She told me more about growing up with Dawn, and about the douche Matthew who thought it was a big game to date sisters without either one of them knowing. Bastard. I already knew he didn’t have a lot of interest in Katie. Stella said he did the bare minimum.

  “The irony is that I met him when I went to visit Dawn one weekend at Penn State University. She’d stayed after class to talk to her professor and that’s when I first saw Matt. He taught at the Behrend campus, well, he still does. We started dating, and then he asked me to marry him. He was suave and sophisticated, and it seemed like a dream come true. You have to remember that at the time, I had a very dull office job in Erie. I suppose it was a way of escaping. I had no idea that he was seeing Dawn during the week and me at weekends.

  “I don’t know why Dawn bothers with him. I think she’s still trying to do the right thing,” she sighed. “She thinks Katie should have her father in her life,” and she shot me a quick look which I ignored. “A male role model. Spen is great, but he’ll be knocking on 80’s door in a few years.”

  Thankfully, she dropped the topic after that.

  And there was more bad news. The asshole who’d welcomed me to Girard with the gutted torso of a dead fox on my doorstep last summer . . . he was back to his old tricks. This time I was going to catch him.

  I’d just driven from the grocery store with ingredients to make risotto for Stella. I’d only been gone an hour, but in that time, the asshole had strung up a dead rabbit and hung it on my porch.

  I pulled Carl’s old Swiss Army Knife out of the truck’s glove compartment just as I heard Stella’s car crunching over the gravel.

  “Ugh! What is that?”

  I didn’t bother to answer, cutting it down quickly and tossing it into the forest. My fox friends were now all grown, but they wouldn’t turn down a free meal. I’d always thought it must be their mother who’d been sacrificed to make a point when I arrived in town. I just didn’t know what that point was. Except that I wasn’t welcome. Usually people had to get to know me before they hated me.

  Stella had made herself comfortable in the kitchen and was filling the coffee machine with water.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Someone trying to intimidate me. I’m not sure why, but it’s been happening on and off since I moved in.”

  “Seriously? Does Dan know?”

  “Yeah, he was here once when someone had tied a dead crow to the porch. I’d guess it’s the same person who was setting snares in the forest.”

  “What did Dan say?”

  “Not much. Just to let him know if it continued. It seemed to stop for a while, so I didn’t bother and besides,” I said, looking at her sideways, “I don’t mix well with police.”

  “Hmm, no, I don’t suppose you would, but Dan is one of the good guys.”

  I shrugged. Whatever was happening on my land, I’d deal with it my own way.

  “What about you?”

  She snorted. “You mean my stalker? Yes, Bob is still around, still trying to get me out of the house.”

  “Can’t your lawyer help?”

  “The divorce settlement is done—I get to keep the house in lieu of any future alimony, but I’ll need to pay for the taxes and upkeep. I’ll have to get a job soon, but the house is mine and I’m not giving it up. I don’t even know why he wants it now—he never liked living there. He said it was creepy being in the woods. Well, he’s the only creep around.”

  She paused, deep in thought.

  “You know what, I just realized something . . .”

  “He’s not a creep?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous—he’s the biggest, creepiest thing ever. No, I think I’ve just figured out why he wants the house after all this time. Can I use your computer? My phone never works on your wifi here.”

  I gave her my laptop and she smiled at the screensaver—a picture of Stan sunbathing on the deck.

  “Soppy old mutt,” she said affectionately.

  Then she pulled up a story from the local newspaper about the potential for property development along the lakefront.

  “I can’t imagine they’d get planning permission.”

  “Not in the State Game Lands, no. But my house isn’t protected by that.” And she gave me a worried look. “And neither is yours.”

  I knew how much property with a lake view would be worth with planning permission for development, and suddenly it all started to make sense.

  “At Spen’s party, he started trying to talk to me again about selling. That’s what kicked it off. Well, that and the fact I’d been drinking all afternoon.” She gave me a wry smile. “And he’s been very persistent.”

  “Spen told me that someone else had put in a bid for Old Joe’s place, but it was way under what I paid.” I shrugged. “I didn’t care what I paid—I just wanted somewhere quiet.”

  Stella was thoughtful.

  “I can’t believe I’m even thinking this, but . . . you know, Bob likes to hunt. Every year, he’d go off with his buddies when the hunting season started and shoot some poor caribou. He’d know how to lay a snare.” Then she sighed. “Even though the guy is a louse, I hate to think that he’d be capable of leaving dead animals on your porch. But the timing . . .”

  “If he is, I’ll catch him.”

  “You love all that macho stuff, don’t you? Well, go and show me how domesticated you can be in the kitchen. It’s all good practice for when my dumb sister comes to her senses.”

  “Stella . . .”

  “Shoo! Off you go! Cook for me, Alex.”

  Fall was fading quickly and winter was just around the corner. I could measure the passing time by the color of the leaves turning from dark green, to reds and oranges and yellows that made the forest blaze, even as the temperature began to drop. I was still undecided whether to stay or sell.

  But if I did sell, it wouldn’t be to Bob. The more I thought about what Stella said, the more I thought she was right. The timing was too convenient.

  Whatever his plans were, I’d counter them. But right now, I had other business to take care of.

  I’d been to Cleveland twice, looking for Giselle, but she’d disappeared, and I didn’t have any other contacts to find what I wanted. Hanging out in bars, hoping to hear something, to find a clue, yeah . . . that probably wouldn’t be the best plan B. So for now, that project was on the back burner. If I’d spent time hanging around the right bars, I might have got the information I needed, but that would be like sprinkling gasoline then walking around tossing lit matches. And although I was miserable, I wasn’t suicidal.

  To keep my mind active, I started working on some architectural sketches, ideas for other cabins like mine—a far cry from the industrial scale I used to do, but it was something.

  Dawn still hadn’t contacted me. I tried to call her once, but her phone went to voicemail and I didn’t leave a message.

  I enjoyed hanging out with Stella. I liked having a friend, someone who knew the painful parts of my past, and didn’t judge.

  We were sitting in my living room watching the flames leap in the fireplace, the logs popping and giving off a scent of cedar and oak. It was comfortable, domestic even. And it was peaceful. Since I’d been sober for the second time, I’d learned a new appreciation for life without drama.

  Stella was drinking coffee and I was drinking some herbal tea. I used to laugh at anyone drinking that shit, but I was avoiding all stimulants, even caffeine.

  “You know that I went to see Dawn the day after Stan died,” she said out of the blue.

  We’d both avoided mentioning Dawn’s name, so Stella had surprised the hell out of me.

  I paused, my cup halfway to my mouth, then I carried on s
ipping my tea. I knew that she’d seen my hesitation.

  “I know,” I said, at last. “She told me. Thank you for doing that.”

  Stella gave me a sad look.

  “It didn’t help though, did it?”

  I grimaced.

  “Stel, I’m completely capable of fucking things up by myself. You were trying to help. It did help. At least she knew the truth and wasn’t thinking the worst.”

  Stella sighed.

  “I had to do some begging outside her house before she opened the door. At one point, I thought I was going to have to swear on my entire collection of Chanel purses before she let me inside. I think I only got through the front door because she was embarrassed about what her neighbors might hear.” She glanced across at me. “I’m not very good at taking no for an answer, but I think you already know that.”

  I smiled weakly at her.

  “True.”

  “I’ve tried to talk to her about you since then . . .”

  “So you’re still seeing her?”

  “Yes, we meet for coffee. Sometimes she brings Katie.”

  “That’s . . . good. Really good. How is she?” I asked as calmly as I could.

  I was pleased that Stella and Dawn were mending their relationship, especially if it meant I got to hear about her, as well.

  “It’s good with you both now?”

  Stella gazed at me appraisingly.

  “She misses you. She’s worried about whether or not she’s made the right decision. For the record, I told her she was making a mistake and that what you two have together is rare enough to deserve a second chance, or a third chance, or as many chances as it takes for you to work it out.”

  “How’s Katie?” I asked, sidestepping the rest of her point.

  “The same: missing you, missing Stan.”

  “Yeah.”

  Stella took one look at my face and changed the subject.

  “Are you sure you won’t come to Florida with me for Thanksgiving? I made a reservation at a hotel so it’s not like you’d have to stay with my parents.”

  “No, but thanks for the offer. I’d rather forget about the holidays. Anyway, I’ve got some research I need to get on with.”