Found!
As Sheriff Nate’s car rolled onto the road, Brad, sitting in the front passenger seat, told them Hannah was at the hospital in Somerset where she was being treated for mild hypothermia and a badly sprained ankle.
“So where did they find her?” Hunter asked.
Brad met his eyes. “Somehow she’d made it all the way to Daniel Boone National Forest and onto the North Rim Trail. Turns out she’d seen a sign that said there was a road ahead and she was on her way there when she fell in a ravine and hurt her ankle. But the question isn’t so much where they found her as how they found her. That trail hasn’t been used for years. Not since a flood about five years ago washed out the bridge leading across it.”
“How did they find her, then?” Jenn asked.
“Echo showed them the way.”
Jenn’s forehead creased. “How?”
“After Hannah fell, he stayed the night with her to keep her warm. This morning he left her, picked up the trail on the other side of the ravine and went three more miles to the main access road. Lucky for him, there were a couple of hikers from out of state who saw him. They’d seen the news this morning and recognized Echo from his picture. When they approached, he started barking and ran off a hundred yards or so. One of them stayed at the roadside and called 9-1-1, while the other followed the dog. Echo wouldn’t let him get close enough for the man to catch him, so the guy figured he was leading him somewhere. And he was. Straight to Hannah. Echo knew what he was doing. He kept stopping, waiting for the guy to catch up, then running ahead.”
“That’s some dog you’ve got yourself, Doc,” Sheriff Nate said with a wink.
“Yeah, I suppose so.” There weren’t enough superlatives to describe Echo. Plainly put, the dog was a hero. What a wonderful coincidence that of all the remote, twisting country roads in Adair County, whoever had left him for dead had done so right in front of their house. From the start, Echo had glommed onto Hannah like white cat hair to black slacks. And when duty had called, he’d put himself on the line and paid the price for it. “So, all the cuts. Do they know what happened? Hannah wasn’t —”
“No, she doesn’t appear to have been attacked. Echo must have protected her. Poor dog’s had the tar beat out of him. He’s cut up a bit. A few good gashes, nothing life threatening. My guess is a bear, judging by the claw marks.”
Gripping the headrest in front of her, Maura leaned forward. “A bear, seriously?”
“Unless wolverines have invaded this part of Kentucky, yes, a bear.” Eyeing Hunter in the mirror again, Brad raised a finger. “Last time I knew a dog that brave, it was your girl Halo.”
Hunter’s gaze drifted to the hills racing past. He remembered how Halo had stayed at his side when he had run away, just like Echo had stayed with Hannah. Then later, how she had found her way home when Tucker Kratz stole her. Soon after that, she had attacked Kratz when he held Hunter’s family at gunpoint, saving them all as she risked her own life.
It was almost like Halo was still with him, looking out for his family.
Maybe, in a way, she was.
chapter 34: Hannah
Maura clamped her arms around Hannah and squeezed. “Don’t you ever, ever go away like that again, hear me, squirt?” She let go as Hannah squirmed from her hold, but then took her little sister’s face in her hands. “Do you know how worried I was?”
Biting her lip, Hannah stared at the needle taped to the back of her left hand, then followed the tube coming out of it all the way up to the bag hanging upside down on a hook beside her hospital bed. Truth be told, she hadn’t thought much about it — until last night, as she lay numb with cold under a sky speckled with starlight, drifting in and out of consciousness. She had thought of her family then. Of how much she missed them, even after all the trouble she’d caused. In hindsight, maybe running away hadn’t been such a brilliant idea. She had been thinking too much of herself and not enough of her family.
Hannah drew in a shaky breath. “I missed you, too.”
Maura crushed her in an even tighter hug.
“I can’t ... breathe,” Hannah choked out. Her sister loosened her hold, then planted a kiss on her forehead before scooting carefully down from the bed.
Behind Maura stood her parents, Hunter with an arm over Jenn’s shoulder and Jenn mopping away tears, which thoroughly confused Hannah. Why was she smiling and crying? Was she glad? Mad?
Hunter came to the foot of Hannah’s hospital bed and peeled the blanket back. Bags of ice were taped to her ankle, which was propped up on pillows. Above the plastic bags, her puffy toes peeked, a bright purple bruise spreading from the base of her big toe to just above her swollen ankle.
“That’s quite a number you did on your ankle, sweet pea,” he remarked. “Does it hurt?”
“Only if I move it.”
“Then I won’t play ‘This little piggy’ with your toes for a while.” Carefully, he replaced the blanket over her foot. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to challenge you to a race right now, either, huh?”
It was a joke. She got that much. But Hannah didn’t feel like laughing just yet. She was still waiting for someone to yell at her or ground her or give her a lecture.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down at her hands as she clutched her blanket. Because she was sorry. Truly sorry. And she was willing to face whatever punishment her parents would give her.
Drifting to her, Jenn placed the tenderest of kisses on the top of her head. “We’re just happy you’re okay, sweetie. We love you soooo much.”
Hannah looked into her mother’s eyes. “You’re not mad?”
“If I’m mad at anyone, it’s myself. I jumped to conclusions about Heck. I shouldn’t have. It wasn’t fair to you or him.”
“So he can still show me how to paint?”
“Yes. That and more. First, I have to apologize to him, okay? I caused him a lot of trouble and I’m not even sure he wants to talk to me at the moment, but if I can get it all straightened out, then yeah, you can spend as much time at Heck’s as you want to.”
Hannah wasn’t entirely sure what her mommy was talking about. She looked forward to going back to Heck’s, anyway. There were so many things she still wanted to paint.
“Hannah,” her daddy said, “did Echo ... did he fight with a bear?”
Cold fear flooded Hannah’s chest. It all came back to her in a rush. One moment she was watching the cubs bounce and roll — and the next she was staring up at a bear so big and black it blocked out all the light in the sky. She’d tried to listen, to understand what it wanted from her, but all she sensed was rage. Panic had frozen her feet to the earth. She couldn’t move or speak, could barely breathe. She knew she couldn’t outrun it, so she collapsed to the ground, slowly pulling herself into a ball to protect her face. The banging of her heart in her ears was so loud she was only vaguely aware of the scuffle going on between Echo and the bear. All she could do was wait and hope. Wait and hope. Wait ...
“Hannah? Hannah?”
A hand came to rest on her forearm. A few more moments passed before her eyes regained focus. Hunter lifted her chin with his fingers, turning her face to his. “Was it a bear, Hannah?”
Shaking her head, she held up three fingers.
“Three?”
She nodded. “Two little bears — and a really big one. But Echo only fought with the big one.”
Jenn leaned against Hunter’s side. “That was probably the mama bear, protecting her babies. Cubs stay with their mother through the first year. And around here, they don’t always hibernate all winter long, but wake up to forage for food occasionally.”
“But I wasn’t going to hurt them or steal their food.”
“We know that,” Jenn said, “but the bear didn’t. Sometimes mothers do crazy stuff if they think their babies are in danger — I know.” She brushed Hannah’s bangs back from her forehead. “They said you can come home tomorrow, Hannah.”
Home. Hannah couldn’t wai
t. But ... had something happened to Echo? She vaguely remembered telling him to go for help, then he’d licked her face, trotted off a ways, looked back once ... and the next thing she knew, she was being lifted into the back of an ambulance.
She craned her neck to the side to peer down at the floor, scanning the entire room and out into the corridor. “Where’s Echo?”
“At the animal hospital,” Hunter said. Quickly adding, “He’ll be okay once they stitch him up and give him some medicine.”
A single, salty tear trailed its way from the corner of Hannah’s eye, then down beside her nose and lip, finally dripping from her chin to land with a plop upon the pale blue blanket bunched in her lap. She rubbed its trace away with a fist, holding her breath to stave off more tears, but they came anyway. Soon, her vision swam in a waterfall of them, stinging her eyes.
“He’s going to be okay, sweet pea,” Hunter told her. “He really is. He chased the bear off. And when you fell and hurt your ankle, he brought help to you. He saved you.”
She blinked at the wetness clinging to her eyelashes, pushing more tears over the brim of her eyelids. Snot filled her nose, making it hard to breathe. She sniffed it back, but it ran down her throat. After swallowing twice, she managed between blubbering breaths, “I ... know.”
“Then why are you crying?” Jenn asked.
It was hard to find the words that expressed precisely what it was she felt: an ache emanating from the center of her chest so big, so intense, she felt like her heart might burst. But the more she thought about it, the simpler it was.
“Because I love my dog. More than anything.”
If she were to write that down, she would write it all in capital letters, underline it five times, and draw stars all around it.
—o00o—
Hannah kicked her legs out in front of her. Wind raced through her hair, teasing it from the elastic that held her ponytail in place. Lacy white clouds rushed at her, then fell away as her weight carried the swing back. For the briefest of moments, she hung suspended, looking down. Then her world reversed and the ground blurred past as momentum tossed her forward again.
Just as her arms and legs began to tire, Hunter walked across the yard and set down a duffel bag beside the Crooked Tree. Moving behind her, he pushed the seat of her swing as high as it would go. She laughed. Laughed so hard and so long her cheeks and stomach began to hurt.
Today was the first warm day of spring and while there were still no leaves on the trees, the sun was bright and warm upon her face. When Hunter reminded her it was almost time to go and he stepped away, Hannah let the swing glide on its own for a little while, then dragged her feet over the dirt until she came to a stop. A dull ache throbbed in her ankle, so she pointed her toes and moved her foot in a small circle. The doctor had showed her exercises so her ankle would get strong again. It was better, but sometimes it still bothered her.
Echo was lying at the base of the tree, his muzzle resting on his paws, his rear legs stretched out behind him like a frog. Two long pink scars were still visible, going from the top of his nose to just below his right eye. Her daddy had told her that hair would grow over those in time, but she kind of liked them. They reminded her how brave he’d been and that if he hadn’t fought the bear off, she might not be alive at all. Which made her wonder about something ... Something very serious. She didn’t want to think about it at all, but she couldn’t help it.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweet pea?”
“How long do dogs live?”
Hunter crouched beside Echo and stroked the top of his head. Groaning, Echo closed his eyes. Soon, he rolled over on his back and spread his legs wide, exposing his belly. Hunter scratched all the way from inside Echo’s rear legs to his chest.
“Not long enough,” Hunter finally said.
Hannah came to sit beside them, Indian style. “So, not as long as people?”
“No, not as long as people.”
“How long?” She was insistent. It was important to know.
“A breed like this? Twelve or thirteen years, generally. Sometimes a few more, sometimes less.”
Adding the numbers in her head, she quickly came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it. Not one bit. “Best friends should live longer.”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded.
“But where do they go after they ... after they stop living?”
“Do you believe people go to heaven when they die, Hannah?”
She didn’t know. So she thought about it. They had to go somewhere. “Yes, I think so.”
Her father stood and she stood with him. A frown of disapproval tugged at his mouth. Bending over, he wiped the dirt from Hannah’s knees.
She tugged at his sleeve as he straightened. “Do they ever come back?”
“Come back?”
“From heaven?”
“Dogs or people?”
“Both, I guess.”
He gazed at far-off clouds, a smile slowly teasing at the corners of his lips. “I don’t know, Hannah ... but I’d like to believe they do.”
“Good, because if Echo can’t stay forever, or at least as long as I’m around, I want another dog just like him. Well, maybe not exactly like him. It’s okay if it’s different. Maybe a girl dog, instead. Or a little dog. Or a brown one. But a good dog. It has to be a good dog. A really good dog.”
As she said that, it occurred to her that all dogs were good. They just needed to meet the right person who would love them for what they were.
Echo sat at her feet, love and admiration evident in his golden-brown eyes.
“Hunter?” Jenn called. Standing at the rail of the front porch, she slipped her arms into her denim jacket, then began buttoning it up. “There you two are. Almost time. Fifteen minutes.”
He raised a hand. “Got it! We’ll be there.” Picking up the duffel bag, he glanced at Hannah and then Echo. “You two ready?”
Hannah hesitated. She was and she wasn’t. Too bad Echo couldn’t come with them.
Together, they walked across the yard, Echo running circles around them, as if he had exciting adventures of his own ahead. But then, Echo acted that way every day.
At the edge of the property, where a narrow footpath squeezed between a row of forsythia bursting with golden blooms, Echo sat and waited obediently. When Hunter gave the okay, they crossed the road and strolled up Heck’s driveway. He was there on the porch, wearing charcoal-colored corduroy pants and a gray tweed jacket.
“Just in time,” he said, taking the duffel bag from Hunter. “Echo and I are headed to Fox Hollow for a visit — if that’s all right with you, Hannah?”
She nodded. “You have my present, right?”
“I do. Nicely wrapped for transport. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to it before she sees it.”
They followed Heck inside. He set the bag beside the sofa. Echo lay down next to it, sniffing along the zipper. Inside, Hannah had stuffed Echo’s favorite things: his squeaky giraffe, his elephant, two balls in case he lost one, three bones of different flavors, and the braided rug to sleep on, along with a sack of kibble and two dishes. She’d wanted to pack more for him, but her mommy had said that was probably enough. He didn’t need to scatter too many of his things through Heck’s house.
Hunter took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Heck. “I’ve written down the details of our trip, including our flights and accommodations. Brad and my mom will take care of the horses, but if you could check the mailbox for us, that’d be great.” He pointed to the bottom of the paper. “My cell number is —”
“Don’t worry, Hunter. Jenn went over everything with me yesterday, including how much and when to feed the dog.”
“Oh, all right, then.” Hunter squatted down, so he could look Hannah in the eye. “It’s time.”
Hannah scrunched her mouth up. “Do we have to go?”
“Aren’t you the one who wanted to go to Disney World?”
Well, yes,
but when she asked about it, no one told her you couldn’t take your dog into the park unless it was a service or therapy dog. Echo had months of training left before he could earn his vest that would allow him to go to school with her and other places like restaurants and stores and doctors’ offices.
Hannah didn’t want to say goodbye, though. It sounded too permanent. Going to Echo, she held up seven fingers. “This many sleeps, Echo, and I’ll be back. I promise.”
With a whimper, Echo raised himself up on his hind feet and hooked his front paws over her shoulders, almost knocking her over. He tucked his muzzle in the crook of her neck. Her arms went around him in a hug. Soon, she felt his wet tongue sliding up and down her cheek, tickling her ear.
“I’ll try,” she said to Echo. “But I’ll still miss you.”
“You’ll try what?” Hunter asked her.
“He said I need to be brave.”
“You already are, Hannah. At six years old, you’ve survived more than some people ten times your age. But I’d be okay if you were a little less brave sometimes.” Hunter took her hand in his as they turned to go. “You know, I’m kind of nervous about this week. Maybe you could stick a little closer to your mom and me, all right? I wouldn’t want anyone to get lost.”
“Okay.” She tugged on his sleeve. “Do you want to borrow my map?”
“Your map?”
“Of Disney World. In case you get lost.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” He winked at her. “Good idea.”
chapter 35: Echo
There was sadness and loneliness in this place. A longing for things past. I sensed it the first time we walked into the reception area and saw the long hallways with their polished railings and aseptic floors, and then as Heck guided me past a large gathering area where an old man with a weathered face stared catatonically at a large-screen TV, oblivious to our passing.
It was our third visit to Fox Hollow in a week. Tomorrow, Hannah and her family would return from their trip to Disney World. As much as I had enjoyed my time with Heck, I was ready for Hannah to come home. Still, I was glad I had come to Fox Hollow. For all the sorrow contained within those walls, if you simply listened, there were stories to be heard ...
Say That Again Page 28