I glare at him. Why is he telling her? She’ll fly me to India in a minute.
“Yes, yes. Give everyone my love.” Uncle Sanjay hangs up.
“You were supposed to tell her I’m having a great time!” I say.
“I know you wanted to tell your parents only the good things yesterday, but they should know the whole truth, the good and the bad.”
“But I won’t get to stay here. Mom will send a plane ticket, and I’ll have to leave—”
“We won’t let that happen, nah?” Uncle Sanjay pulls on a sweater. “Come, let’s go.”
He walks me five long blocks to a yellow bungalow with flower-filled window boxes. The small garden is lined with rows of bright flowers. Two giant cedar trees stand on each side of the brick path to the porch.
A sign on the front door reads:
TONI BABINSKY, RN FOSTER CARE FOR CATS AND DOGS, INTUITIVE CONSULTANT 550 SITKA SPRUCE ROAD
“Intuitive, my foot,” Uncle Sanjay mutters under his breath. He rings the bell. Stu prances around, his tongue hanging out.
Toni answers the door in a flowing green robe, the dogs barking by her feet. “Doc! And Poppy! I’m so delighted you could make it. Why don’t you come in?”
Stu trots past Francine and right on inside. Francine wags her stubby tail, but Stu ignores her.
Toni stands back to let us pass, but Uncle Sanjay looks up at the darkening sky and shoves his hands into his pants pockets. “I’ve got lots of catching up to do, patient charts to write up, that sort of thing.”
“You’ll be missing all the fun,” Toni says.
“I’ll come back for Poppy in half an hour, all right?”
“You’re leaving me here?” I step backward and give him a don’t leave me here alone look. He’s supposed to come in with me.
“I promise I’ll be back,” Uncle Sanjay says.
“Come on in, honey.” Toni smiles.
Okay. I take a deep breath and step inside.
Her house smells of incense and potpourri. I try not to sneeze, for fear of disturbing all the crystals and beaded curtains. Rocks and chunks of seaglass decorate the windowsills. Francine snorts and flops over to be petted, and Droopy cringes under a table but wags his tail when he sees Stu. Stu and Francine chase each other around the house. Well, Stu chases. Francine waddles.
A black cat is curled up at the top of a kitty condo, and a white one perches on the windowsill, watching the birds outside and flicking its tail.
“Those two are Hansel and Gretel,” Toni says, leading me through the living room to a covered back porch overflowing with ferns. “Found them in the grocery store parking lot, in the Dumpster.”
“In the garbage? Why would anyone do that?”
She shrugs. “What can I do? The universe put those kittens in my path. I had to help them. Sit down.” She waves her arm toward a round wood table. “I’m making tea. Healing relaxing herbal blend?”
“Any kind is fine.” I sit at the table, pushing hanging ferns out of the way.
Toni bustles into the kitchen and shouts while she clinks cups. “Doc’s a good man, lets me bring in the animals at a discount. He knows I’m strapped.”
He lets her bring them in for free.
Toni bustles back out with two cups of tea and a teapot shaped like an elephant. She sits across from me at the table and takes my hands in hers. “Now, don’t talk. Let me read your spirit. Some readings don’t turn out properly because, well, the person won’t shut up. If you stay quiet, you’ll learn.”
I nod and sip the tea, a burst of lavender flavor.
“I’m tuning in to your energy. Repeat after me these affirmations: I am love.”
“I am love.”
“I am divine.”
“I am divine.”
“From this place of clarity, breathe in strength and power, energy from Mother Earth.”
I breathe in the scent of Stu’s farts.
“Breathe out love and feel your heart working.” Her eyelashes flutter, and she makes a deep growling sound in her chest.
Droopy dashes off down the hall, and I wonder if this is why he has been so jumpy, because of Toni’s growling.
“You’re troubled. You don’t have faith in yourself. You must get in touch with the hidden you.”
“The hidden me?”
“You must get in touch with your inner strength. You have to meditate.”
“Meditate? How?”
“Hmmm, let’s see. You need a special meditation stone, one that you discover on your own, in the natural world.”
I stare at her necklace. “What about … seaglass?”
Her eyes brighten. “Ah, yes! Beach glass, mermaid’s tears, lucky tears—glass that washes up on the beach, smoothed by sand and sea. The best seaglass is round, clear blue, and very rare, but you can settle for amber or green.”
“What do I do with it?”
“Every morning, sit cross-legged and breathe deeply. Gaze into the seaglass, then close your eyes and be still and silent, preferably with a friend to help you. Let go and relax.”
“And then what?”
“Quiet, patience. Open your mind. The seaglass provides a window to your inner self.” She takes a deep breath, and glances at her watch. “Oops, well, that’s all for today. I have to feed the fur babies and give them their meds.”
“My uncle has seaglass in the daisy garden at his clinic.”
“You must discover your own specimen—pristine, untouched.”
I know just where I’ll search in the morning. Witless Cove Beach, here I come.
Chapter Thirteen
HIT AND RUN
Fifteen minutes later, when Uncle Sanjay, Stu, and I are back at the cabin, the telephone rings. The sound echoes through the house. Uncle Sanjay answers and listens. “Slow down, Harv,” he says in his I’m hypnotizing you into calmness voice. “What happened? Yes? Oh no!” He nods, shakes his head. “Bring Bremolo in right away.”
Uncle Sanjay hangs up, makes another quick call. “Duff, meet me at the clinic. Now.” He runs out to the truck. I dash after him, carrying his keys. He’s patting his pockets, looking for them. Stu lopes out after us and jumps around, waiting to get into the truck.
“Stu, you stay,” Uncle Sanjay says, pointing at the door.
Stu’s tail instantly drops between his legs.
“I want to come with you,” I say.
“Hurry, then—put Stu in the house. Just this time, so he doesn’t get in the way.”
Stu is not happy to be locked inside. I hope he’ll be okay. Uncle Sanjay is quiet and tense during the drive. The sun is setting, sending fingers of red across a bright blue sky. The air hangs thick and still.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Bremolo was hit by a car. Usually, I send people to the emergency clinic up in Freetown after hours, but Harvey and Bremolo are my friends, and Harvey sounded so desperate.”
When we get to the clinic, a round man is standing on the doorstep, carrying a white poodle speckled with blood. The man is shaking, and when we get out of the car, I see he’s crying. “He ran right out in the road. I couldn’t stop him.”
Uncle Sanjay slides the key into the lock and opens the door. I’m shaking, and Harvey is shaking, but Uncle Sanjay is calm, like a lake without wind.
Inside the clinic, he turns on the lights. Then he carries the poodle into the surgery room and shuts the door.
A moment later, Duff rushes in. She looks different without her blue scrubs on—younger and softer in jeans and a T-shirt that says PET ME. She hugs the round man. “Harvey, don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Bremolo. You wait here. You too, Poppy.”
Harvey and I are standing in the waiting room. Blood stains his hands; dark red droplets on the ground lead back to the surgery room. My throat tightens.
“The bathroom is that way,” I tell him. I point down the hall.
He comes back with clean hands, and I sit beside him.
He speaks in a rough
voice full of tears. “I don’t let him out on his own, but he likes to chase squirrels. He’s not young anymore. He’s almost fifteen, that dog, but he can still run. I shouldn’t have opened the door.”
“It’s okay. My uncle will save Bremolo.” I want to turn the clock backward and stop Bremolo from dashing into the road.
“The car hit him so hard. He flew through the air. The car took off. Kids! I didn’t even a get a license plate. I think they were off-islanders.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Harvey keeps talking. I learn every detail of Bremolo’s life. I learn what he likes to eat and I hear about the time he mated with a female dachshund, who had tiny poodle-dachshund puppies. I wish I could put on my Superwoman cape and save that little dog. But I can only sit here, until Uncle Sanjay comes out, pulling the surgical mask off his face. His white coat is splattered with blood. Duff comes out after him, looking at the ground.
I hold my breath for a million years, or maybe only a second, and then Uncle Sanjay says, “He’s stable and resting now.”
Harvey’s shoulders heave, and he breaks into gasping sobs. “Thank you, Doc. Thank you. That dog is my whole life.”
“But we couldn’t save his left rear leg.”
Harvey steps back, blinks, and wipes his eyes. “His leg? How much of his leg?”
I can’t breathe. Poor Bremolo.
“We had to amputate above the knee. He’ll have a very short stump,” Uncle Sanjay says.
I’m shaking all over. “You cut off his leg? No!” My voice falls apart.
“It didn’t hurt him,” he says gently. “Bremolo is asleep. He’ll be all right.”
“But he’ll wake up and wonder what happened to his leg! He’ll be limping forever!”
Harvey smiles through his tears. “But he’s alive. That’s what matters. My Bremolo’s still with us.”
“Yes,” Uncle Sanjay says. “Duff will stay here with him. You can probably take him home tomorrow. He’ll need medicine for the pain and to prevent infection.”
Duff leads Harvey into the back room to see Bremolo. I can’t go back there. I can’t look at the poor three-legged dog. I crumple onto a chair in the waiting room.
Uncle Sanjay sits beside me and gives my shoulder a pat. “I had to remove most of the leg, Poppy. The bones were shattered.”
My throat closes. I can’t speak.
“Bremolo’s a lucky dog. The damage could’ve been much worse. He could’ve died.”
I nod, but a dry lump is growing in my throat.
Harvey and Duff come back up front. Harvey takes a deep breath and pulls out his wallet. His eyes are red and puffy from crying. “How much do I owe you for saving my precious boy?”
Uncle Sanjay waves his arm. “I’ll have Saundra send you the bill. Go home and get some sleep. We’ll take care of Bremolo.”
Harvey nods, wiping another tear from his eye. “I know he’s in good hands.” Duff walks him out into the parking lot, and I hear him start his car and drive away.
Uncle Sanjay sits next to me, not saying a word, then stands and pulls off his lab coat. “Come, let’s go home. It’s late. Stu is waiting for us.”
On the drive to the cabin, I ask, “What will happen to those people who hit Bremolo? Will they go to jail?”
He shrugs. “If Harvey figures out who did it, then he might try to press charges, but it’s doubtful.”
“So they can hit a dog and go home and not care?” My voice rises.
Uncle Sanjay turns into the driveway and parks, but he doesn’t get out. “People drive fast and hit animals every day. Some people keep driving. They don’t care.” He is silent. “Others stop and try to help. We do what we can.”
“Bremolo has to live without a leg!” I’m gripping the door handle, gritting my teeth.
“Harvey will take good care of him. He loves Bremolo very much. They still have each other.”
“But he’ll have a hard time getting around. Harvey said Bremolo likes to run, and now he won’t be able to run.”
“Dogs learn. They adapt. Lots of dogs are fine with three legs. They race around as if they still have four legs.”
“It’s not fair. Poor Bremolo.”
“We saved him, Poppy, and the ones we save make it all worthwhile.”
When we get out of the car, I hear Stu barking in the house. I hug Uncle Sanjay. The tears are spilling down my cheeks. “We can’t let Stu run out in the road, or ever get hit by a car.”
“There, there,” he says, patting my back. “Not to worry. Stu will be fine. Everything will turn out for the best.”
Chapter Fourteen
SEAGLASS
I dream of Bremolo. He stands on his hind leg like a white fluffy circus dog and hops around on crutches.
In the morning, Hawk and I walk Stu on Witless Cove Beach, a few minutes’ walk through town. The wide ribbon of sand goes on forever, following the curves of the shoreline. Stu races around, his nose wiggling at piles of kelp, rocks, and driftwood.
I tell Hawk about Bremolo. “One minute, he was happy. The next minute, he got hit, and his leg got amputated.”
“If anyone can save an animal, Doc can, whatever it takes.” Hawk shades his eyes and squints in the sunlight. “But sometimes, there’s nothing he can do. I remember a chow dog that got hit by a car. Not a mark on him, but inside, the dog was bleeding to death. We were too late. Doc did his best, but the dog died anyway. The injuries were massive.”
“That’s so sad.” The poor chow. I keep an eye on Stu. He stays close to the waterline, away from the road.
“Another time, a man brought in a golden retriever with a big black tire mark down her back. He didn’t see her sleeping on the driveway, backed the car right over her.”
I gasp. “Oh no!”
“He said he felt a bump under the tires. He couldn’t believe what he’d done. He put her in the car and raced to the clinic. He thought he’d killed her, but she was perfectly fine. Not a scratch on her. No broken bones, nothing.”
My mouth drops open. “But how could that happen?”
Hawk shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe it was the way the dog lay on the concrete, or the way the car went over her.”
“I guess Bremolo was lucky, too.” I reach down and grab a handful of sand, let the grains slip through my fingers. “I hope I get lucky today. I need to find a clear, round piece of seaglass. Toni told me so. I have to stare into the stone and meditate. I’m supposed to search for my inner self.”
“Can’t you look in the mirror?”
“You’re making fun of Toni.” I breathe in the smells of salty air and seaweed.
“No I’m not. She gave me a psychic reading once, too. She said I have to be more truthful.”
“Are you a liar?”
“Only white lies. The kind that don’t matter. Like when my mom colors her hair, she asks how she looks. I always say she looks great, even though her hair looks as red as a fire engine.”
“Maybe she wants to know the truth.”
“Nah, she just wants me to tell her she’s beautiful.” He throws a stick, and Stu runs after it, all the way into the water.
“Hey! What are you doing? Stu! Come back!” I chase after him, but I can’t run fast in the sand, and I keep tripping over driftwood.
“Don’t worry!” Hawk shouts. “Have a little faith, Poppy. He’ll come back.”
In a moment, Stu trots back with the stick in his mouth. He flops onto his belly and stares at his prize.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Hawk throws the stick again, and Stu gallops off into the surf.
“Don’t throw it too far.” I crouch and sift through a pile of rocks.
“What about this?” Hawk picks up a flat piece of clear glass with part of a paper label still hanging from the corner.
“Not smooth enough yet.”
“Probably came from a beer bottle.” Hawk pulls a crinkled plastic bag from his pocket and drops the shard of glass inside. “This bag is for garbage and dangerous objects.
”
We pick up everything from cigarette butts to bottle caps and a couple of empty soda cans. I don’t know who could mistake this beach for a garbage dump. Maybe litter bugs need glasses so they can see the true beauty of nature.
We find a few chunks of rough glass, but nothing smooth or round. We also find chunks of pink and black quartz and red and green rocks. Hawk points to round brown spongy shapes embedded in the sand. “Those are anemones. They’re alive.”
I try to avoid them, picking my way across the boulders. Hawk squats near a small tide pool. “Look, you can see a whole world in there.”
The longer I stare, the more I see. Tiny brown crabs scuttle through the water, and red and orange starfish cling to rocks. When I lift a flat stone from the sand, a crab scurries away. The beach is full of living treasures hiding in nooks and crannies. I fill my pockets with smooth white clamshells and ridged pink cockleshells, all empty and abandoned by their owners.
We walk a little farther, and that’s when I spot something glinting up at me from the sand. A shiny stone, half buried. When I kneel and pick it up, I’m holding a smooth piece of clear green seaglass, the size and shape of a large marble, but flat on the bottom, like a dome. I can see through the glass to an emerald world on the other side.
“I found it!” I yell, jumping to my feet. “I’ve got my seaglass.”
Chapter Fifteen
A LUMP IN A BOTTLE
In the back room, we find Bremolo lying on a pile of blankets in a large kennel. He’s on his side, his back left leg a very short stump wrapped in fresh white bandages. He’s awake, his watery brown eyes watching us. On the other side of the room, a little Chihuahua is sleeping on a fluffy bed in one of the cages.
“Bremolo looks okay,” I whisper to Hawk. “But what is that tube attached to his front leg?” The thin tube leads to a bag of clear liquid hanging from a metal stand outside the cage.
“Intravenous drip. IV. Gives him fluids, a little at a time, so he doesn’t get dehydrated.”
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