Nearlyweds

by Beth Kendrick

  “Are you sure? It looked like a wolf!”

  I shook my head and stepped into the house. “David. Come on. When’s the last time you saw a wolf prowling around our front yard? Besides, Cash is way too big to be a wolf. He’s a mix between a Great Dane and a Newfoundland, as far as we can tell, and he’s Stella Porter’s new pet.”

  “Well, what is it doing in our house?” he demanded.

  “I told her we’d dog-sit for a few days.”

  “Why would you tell her that? You know my mom has allergies.” He paused, sniffing my breath. “Where have you been? Have you been drinking?”

  “A little bit,” I conceded. “My call hours ended at five, so spare me the sanctimony. Did you and your mother have a nice dinner?”

  “Help!” Renée started screaming upstairs. “David! Somebody! Help!”

  “Oh my God, it’s mauling her!” David bolted across the living room, tripped over the rocking chair, then picked himself up and pounded up the stairs. A few seconds later, the screaming stopped as yellow lights flooded the landing.

  I kicked off my boots and headed for the kitchen to slug back a big glass of water and some ibuprofen to head off tomorrow’s hangover.

  Before I even made it to the cupboard next to the sink, the bloodcurdling screams started up again.

  “No, no, nooooo,” Renée wailed. She didn’t sound like she’d been mauled. Rather, she sounded like she was about to maul someone else.

  “Erin,” David called. “Would you come up here, please? Right now?”

  “Of course, honey.” I fished one of the dog biscuits Stella had given me out of my pocket and padded upstairs to lure Cash out of Renée’s room.

  “Right now.” David sounded like he was two seconds away from a nervous breakdown.

  “I’m coming,” I snapped back.

  “That isn’t a dog, it’s a demon!” Renée was screeching as I arrived at the doorway to the guest room. “A demon from hell that she conjured up to torment me. All I’ve ever done is love her! I’ve treated her like my own daughter and—” She broke off as I waved from the hall.

  Cash trotted over and collapsed at my feet. “What seems to be the problem?” I asked.

  David was holding his head in both hands. “The dog…”

  I reached down to scratch behind Cash’s ears. “Did he startle you, Renée? I am so sorry.”

  My mother-in-law looked unexpectedly old and frail in a flowered flannel nightgown. Her hair stuck out at odd angles, and her face, usually powdered and lipsticked to perfection, looked pale and vulnerable. “No, the dog did not startle me. He jumped into my bed and tried to kill me while I slept. And then he…he…”

  “He what?” I struggled to swallow back a yawn.

  She pointed imperiously toward the middle of her bed.

  My eyes snapped open. “Oh.”

  “Yeah,” David said.

  Nestled in the folds of the blue-and-yellow plaid duvet was a steaming pile of dog feces.

  “Well.” I dusted off my hands and started toward the bed. “Let’s get this out of your way. I’ll get you some fresh blankets.”

  Renée’s face had taken on a purplish tint. “That is the most filthy, disgusting, vile thing I have ever seen in all my born days! This is why I always told you, David, dogs do not belong in the house. Didn’t I tell you?”

  David looked at me. “Now what?”

  I shrugged. “Now I wash the sheets and we go to bed. What else can we do?”

  “You are taking that dog back to Stella’s tomorrow,” he declared.

  “I can’t.”

  His face was starting to get a little purple, too. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “I can’t,” I repeated, bundling up the blankets and heading for the basement door, Cash right on my heels. “I’ll explain the whole thing later, but Stella needs us to take care of the dog for a few days.”

  David followed me, leaving Renée to gnash her teeth upstairs. “Then fob it off on Casey. She’s so crazy about animals, let her take care of this unhousebroken beast!”

  “Okay, firstly, Casey’s not allowed to have dogs in her apartment. Secondly, his name is Cash and he is housebroken. He just had a long day and he got a little too excited.”

  “He shat in my mother’s bed!”

  “And I’m sure he feels awful about that. Let’s talk about this in the morning, okay? It’s too late to do anything about it tonight and I’m dead on my feet.”

  A series of loud, pointed sneezes punctuated the tension crackling between us.

  “My mother is allergic,” he seethed.

  “I’ll bring home some Zyrtec samples from the office,” I offered.

  He glared at me.

  “David,” Renée called. “David, I need you.”

  “Go ahead.” I shooed him away. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  “This is not over,” he warned before stomping off to minister to the hapless victim.

  I opened the patio door and unfurled the blanket, dumping Cash’s little indiscretion on the back lawn, then wadded the soiled linens into the washing machine. While I waited for the laundry to cycle through, I flopped down on the sofa and propped my head up against a throw pillow.

  Four hours later, my cell phone rang, jerking me out of a sound sleep. I was still on the sofa, bleary-eyed and cotton-mouthed, but no longer buzzed. Though I was no longer technically on call, I picked up my phone, checked the Incoming Call number, and groaned.

  “Hello?” I mumbled into the receiver.

  “Oh, thank God,” said Kelly Fendt. “I was praying you’d be there. Listen, Dr. Maye, I know it’s late, but I have to see you. It’s an emergency.”

  Cash greeted me at the door when I dragged myself home at six a.m. “Hey buddy, you still up?” I left my coat on the entryway floor and slogged upstairs to bed.

  “Good morning,” I whispered to David, stripping down to my panties and slipping his soft Northeastern T-shirt over my head. “Good night.”

  He lifted his head from the pillow and fumbled for the alarm clock. “Where’d you go?”

  “Kelly Fendt,” I said, which was all the explanation he needed.

  “Jeez, what was wrong with the kid this time?”

  “Nothing. She was convinced his appendix was about to burst because he kept fussing and rolling onto his right side in his crib.”

  David rubbed his eyes. “And?”

  “And I told her to go to the ER in Pittsfield, but she started wailing and carrying on that the ER docs wouldn’t know her son’s quote-unquote, ‘history.’”

  “Honey. Kelly Fendt is a lunatic. You know this. You’ve told me this many times.”

  “I know, but she’s very convincing. So I met her at the office and did an exam, and when I told her it was probably just gas pains, she threatened to sue me for malpractice.”

  His head plopped back down. “See? Lunatic.”

  “She kept clutching my hand and begging me to help her, and I knew Dr. Lowell would have a conniption if I blew her off, so I went with her to the ER.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I had to, David. She was hyperventilating and shaking like a junkie.”

  He looked appalled. “Okay. She may be a lunatic, but you’re worse for letting her manipulate you every time.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So we went to the ER for a surgical evaluation. Just to cover everyone’s ass.”

  “What was their diagnosis?”

  “Gas pains.” I sighed. “Everything looked normal. The woman is a classic case of Munchausen’s. That poor kid is going to grow up to be an OCD, agoraphobic hypochondriac who’s never kissed anyone for fear of germs. Either that or a strung-out heavy metal guitarist who eats live reptiles onstage.” I peeled back the covers and crawled into bed. Cash followed suit, hopping into the middle of our queen-sized bed and sprawling out next to me.

  David’s head popped back up. “Excuse me. Why is that dog in our bed?”

  “I dunno.” I was hal
f-asleep already. “Maybe Stella and her husband let him sleep there.”

  “Well, we’ll have to untrain him.” David leapt out of bed, which proved to be a major tactical error—the dog stretched out his long legs and settled into the warm nest of David’s vacated blankets.

  “Come on, dog.” David grabbed Cash’s collar and pulled. “The bed is for people only. Off you go.”

  Cash gave him a disdainful look, closed his eyes, and exhaled loudly.

  “Off! Off!” David pulled and pushed and waved his arms, but to no avail. Cash started snoring. “Get up and help me, Erin. Erin?”

  “Shhh,” I said, pulling David’s pillow over my head. “I’m sleeping. We’ll deal with this later.”

  “You’re just going to lie there and let a dog take my rightful place in our bed?”

  But I was sinking gratefully into a tranquil haze where histrionic mothers and intrusive in-laws and incendiary piles of dog poop didn’t exist.

  When I woke up at noon, the phone was ringing and Cash was still snuggled up beside me. I could smell the sharp tang of fresh coffee drifting up from the kitchen, and David was nowhere in sight. I rolled out of bed and opened my closet, scowling at the neatly hung rows of earth tones and pleats and sensible loafers. Nothing bright, nothing flashy, nothing remotely appealing. Where was the camouflage miniskirt when I needed it?

  When I came downstairs to the kitchen, David and Renée were huddled around the newspaper, sipping coffee and grousing about the pothole in front of our house that the town council refused to fix until spring. They looked up disapprovingly as I swanned in wearing jeans and the only relic I could find from my bar-dancing days: a tight black sweater cut indecently low.

  “Who was on the phone?” I asked, praying that Kelly Fendt hadn’t gotten hold of my home number.

  Renée frowned as if she’d just swallowed a spoonful of sodden coffee grinds. “Just that pesky Henry Reynolds, wanting to know if I had a good Thanksgiving. I told him that my husband has been dead five years, my son barely spoke a word to me after I slaved all day in the kitchen, and my daughter-in-law stomped out before we even sat down, then came home drunk with a filthy animal that…well, how could I have a good Thanksgiving?”

  I ignored all the barbs and instead teased, “I think someone has a crush on you.”

  She sniffed. “Nonsense. I’ve told him a hundred times I’m not interested.”

  I poured myself a huge mugful of java. “Then why’d you give him our phone number?”

  Renée rustled the newspaper and refused to respond.

  “Did he have a good Thanksgiving, at least?” I prompted.

  “I didn’t ask,” she said sourly.

  “Where’s your new best friend?” David demanded.

  “Still sleeping.” I crossed over to the table and kissed the top of his head. “Where’d you end up last night?”

  “The couch,” he grumbled. “We’re giving that dog back to Stella today.”

  “Can’t do it,” I replied brightly.

  “Erin.” David shot a sidelong glance at Renée, who was clearly fascinated by the argument brewing between us. “You have to.”

  “The only thing I have to do today is shop,” I said.

  Renée was aghast. “On Black Friday? Have you lost your mind?”

  “Just my fashion sense. I need some cute clothes like nobody’s business. Casey’s picking me up in twenty minutes. We’re going to the mall.” I hitched up my jeans and told Renée, “I’m going to get you the best Christmas present ever.”

  “Erin…,” David warned.

  “Have a good day, sweetie. And don’t forget to walk the dog.”

  16

  STELLA

  So did Nick ever call you back?” Erin asked Casey as we browsed the Macy’s makeup counters. We had already torn through the lingerie and coat sections like a tornado, and now we had moved on to lipstick.

  “I have no idea—I turned off my cell phone and unplugged the land line.” Casey’s voice was badass, but her eyes looked miserable. “He can stay in Detroit till spring thaw, for all I care.”

  “So I take it you still haven’t told him you’re not legally married?” Erin pressed.

  I turned to Casey, my mouth open. “You haven’t told him yet?”

  “Oh, I told him. On his voice mail. And then I told him hell would freeze over before I’d remarry him.” Casey set her jaw. “Forget it. I already called our landlord, and the locksmith is coming on Monday. It’s my apartment. I’m the one who signed the lease.”

  “Surely he’ll be back by Monday,” Erin said, dabbing a bit of blush onto the apples of her cheeks.

  “Who knows?” Casey rubbed a mauve lipstick sample on the inside of her wrist. “Maybe he’ll take a road trip to Mexico to celebrate his return to bachelorhood. Maybe he’ll run off to Anna Delano’s house and shack up with her. But you know what? I don’t care.”

  “Maybe you care a little,” I said gently, replacing the mauve lipstick with a wine-red shade. “Here, this is more your color.”

  “I don’t care!” She smeared the red lipstick on top of the mauve with bright-eyed fury. “I don’t! If he doesn’t want to be with me, no one’s got a gun to his head. Let him run off with Anna—she’s wanted him since eighth grade. She can do all the cooking and cleaning and turn off her shower with a wrench. I’ll find someone better, someone who really appreciates me.”

  “Like Hugh,” Erin said dreamily.

  I frowned at her. “Who?”

  “Nothing.” She stared down at the blush palette.

  “Give me that.” I took the blush away from her. “Stay away from oranges, okay? You’re a summer. You want pinks and lavenders.”

  “I hate pick and lavender,” she protested. “I want blacks and reds. And leopard print.”

  “Don’t you work in a medical office?” I reminded her. “Like, with infants?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not for work. For after work.”

  “For all the fancy nightclubs in Alden?” Casey said dryly.

  Erin shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I used to be cute, okay? I was the party girl of my med school class. I was notorious!”

  I managed to keep my mouth shut as I looked her over: severe, shoulder-length brown hair, faded jeans, and her puffy parka. No makeup, no jewelry except for her wedding rings, and flat, roomy loafers.

  Erin caught me staring. “What?”

  My gaze zoomed back to the nail polish samplers. “Nothing.”

  “What? You think I’m boring, don’t you? Old and boring and blah.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do! Every guy who walks through this store looks at you. You! No one even notices Casey and me.”

  “Hey,” Casey protested.

  “Well, it’s true,” Erin insisted. “No sense denying it. Stella looks like Angelina Jolie’s little sister and we…and I…” She sucked in giant gulps of air. “I’m just stuck here. Forever.”

  “Oh, boy.” Casey grabbed her arm and towed her through the crowd toward the exit. “Existential crisis time.”

  “It’s okay,” I said as Casey plowed ahead, parting the crowd like a bouncer. “Deep breaths.”

  “I’ll never get out,” Erin wheezed. “It’ll be me and Renée and Kelly Fendt and the petty office politics and my drafty used car until I drop dead.”

  “No,” I promised. “You can leave anytime you want. You’re from Harvard Med—any hospital would kill to hire you.”

  “That’s what I thought, once upon a time.” She tumbled forward into the jewelry counter. “But then I emailed one of my coworkers last week, asking if the hospital might want to hire me, and I never heard back. That means no. That means he asked and he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. I left the fast track and I can never go back.”

  Casey’s ears pricked up. “‘He’?”

  “Oh,” I said, nodding. “Hugh, right?”

  Erin laughed. “No, Jonathan. We were residents together, we dated
for about two weeks and now we’re like brother and sister. David hates him.”

  “Is he good looking?” Casey persisted.

  “Casey. What’d I just say? Brother and sister. Besides, I’m married.”

  “No, you’re not,” Casey pointed out. “None of us are. And just because you don’t want a perfectly good eligible doctor doesn’t mean I don’t. I’m back on the market, girl. I am on the prowl!”

  Erin and I both stopped and stared at her.

  “What?” Casey put her hands on her hips. “I am.”

  “Your husband’s only been gone twenty-four hours,” I pointed out.

  “For the last time, he’s not my husband. I need a new man.”

  Erin was getting pretty worked up, too. “I need a new job. What have I done? What have I done?”

  Seeing Erin’s distress, a multipierced teenage sales clerk rushed over and asked, “Are you all right, ma’am? Do you need me to call someone?”

  “Oh God,” Erin keened, closing her eyes in despair. “She ma’amed me.”

  “We’re fine.” Casey flashed the clerk a confident smile, then half-dragged Erin out to the food court.

  Hundreds of surly, slow-moving Black Friday shoppers, all carrying bulky shopping bags, pressed in on us.

  “Coming through.” Casey pushed through the crowd with the calm authority of a paramedic. “Excuse me. Coming through.” She swooped in on a wobbly table littered with napkins and ketchup packets just as another pair of women stepped up to claim it.

  “Hey!” exclaimed a blonde in too-tight jeans. “This is our table!”

  “Yeah, we got here first,” agreed a snub-nosed redhead who looked like blondie’s sister. “And we’ve been on our feet all day—got up at four thirty this morning to hit the sales.”

  “Sorry.” Casey shrugged as she sat down in one chair and slung her shopping bags into the other. “But to the swift goes the race.”

  The blonde and the redhead exchanged exasperated glances but started stalking someone else’s table as Erin and I shuffled up.

  “Sit.” Casey shoved a chair toward Erin with her foot. “Stella, you go get her some ice water.”

  “I don’t need ice water,” Erin insisted. “I just need my old life back. Me and David, living in the city. With Renée on the other side of the state.”