by Karis Walsh
One thing she knew for certain: most of the organizations and individuals featured on her program received a definite increase in donations and volunteers after their segments aired. She might not have a huge audience, but she did reach dedicated viewers who shared similar values and beliefs with the people she spotlighted. They proved it with their time and money. As cynical as Cara often felt, she couldn’t deny the statistics. The McIntyre Center was new and small, but Cara had heard about it through one of her students at Evergreen State College. His cousin had received a guide dog trained by Lenae McIntyre, and her entire life had changed. Cara’s student had raved about his cousin’s newfound freedom, the way her world had suddenly expanded, and the close bond already forming between her and her dog.
Cara had known immediately the story would be perfect for her. Her audience would love the animal angle, and the new center would benefit from the exposure. Lenae apparently hadn’t sounded as enthusiastic about the possibilities when Sheryl had contacted her, but she would soon be convinced otherwise. Cara scanned the information about the training center and about its visually impaired founder, and she wondered—as she always did before a new story—if Lenae McIntyre might be the one to finally make her believe in the fairy tale.
Chapter Two
“You’re off duty for now, Baxter.” Lenae rested one hand on the retriever’s back as she unbuckled his harness with the other. She felt him sink from under her hand as he plopped onto his bed. She reached down and rubbed his head where it rested on his forepaws, laughing at his loud sigh. She had heard that mothers of newborns were supposed to sleep when their babies did, so they got some rest. Baxter seemed to have his own version of the advice. Whenever Lenae paused during her hectic days—whether Baxter was near his bed or not—he immediately settled in for a nap.
Lenae stood and walked from her office to the long row of outdoor kennels bordering the training facility. Even with her slow and careful stride, she nearly tripped when she stepped on the tines of a rake. It fell with a clatter on the cement walkway, and she picked it up and returned it to its proper place. She’d have to remind Sara, the high school student who worked weekends at the center, about the importance of replacing all items in the exact same spot every time she moved them. Lenae was accustomed to the bruised shins and stubbed toes she got regularly, but soon there’d be a group of students here to work with their guide dogs for the first time. They needed the comfort and reliability of a safe training area.
Until they began to connect with their animal guides, of course. Once they were familiar with their dogs, they’d be able to handle increasingly challenging environments. But at first they needed safety and predictability. And Lenae herself needed order and sameness here, where she’d not only be working but also spending most of her free time. Even when she wasn’t actively training her dogs, she’d be here checking on them or playing with them, as she was today. She needed to be able to walk through the kennels without worry. Today, especially, she needed to be comforted by the physical aspects of her training center. The dogs, the order, the routine. She felt unmoored by the changes about to occur, precipitated by a need to increase the community’s awareness of her new center, and she had come to the kennels to reorient herself. She had chosen the dogs, had designed the layout of the center, and had drafted a five-year plan for building it into a thriving program. If she had to let a television crew invade her privacy for one afternoon in her quest to make the center a success, then she’d do it. Reluctantly.
Lenae unlatched the door to the first run and stepped inside. She lowered her hand until it came in contact with a soft muzzle and the greeting swipe of a wet tongue. She kept contact with the dog while she shut the door again, listening for the click of a secure latch and feeling to make sure the lock was firmly bolted. Then, once she was convinced they were locked inside, she knelt next to the dog and rubbed his soft ears.
Lenae chatted with the young animal while she felt his legs and body, checking for any sign of injury or discomfort and enjoying the warmth of contact. Toby was one of her trained dogs, ready for his first experience with a new vision-impaired owner, and he exhibited all the signs she wanted to notice at his level. He sat quietly while she poked and prodded. He pressed close to her, as if seeking to be in her space and comfortable having her in his. The occasional lick of his tongue or rub of his head maintained a connection with her. He would soon transfer his loyalty to the one person who would be his constant companion, but Lenae enjoyed his affection for now, even as she imagined him lavishing it on his welcoming new owner.
After spending a few minutes with each of the three trained and ready dogs, Lenae moved to the runs holding the five dogs that had just arrived for training. These animals greeted her more boisterously, as active and energetic as teenagers, and she was even more cautious about checking the latch behind her each time. She made certain the dogs didn’t jump on her or push too roughly, but otherwise she didn’t attempt to curb their enthusiastic responses to her presence. She petted and played with them, wanting them to enjoy the company of a human. Once their training started, they’d be taught to control their more exuberant tendencies while still letting their personalities shine through. While they were in this less-trained state—obedient to basic commands, but not overdisciplined—Lenae was better able to determine their individual characters. She’d form opinions about the type of person most suited to each, and although she occasionally changed her assessment during the more rigorous evaluation to follow, most often her initial impressions held true.
Regular interaction and play with humans was a requirement for these future guide dogs, but Lenae often felt she was making these rounds as much for her own benefit as for the dogs’. Even now, with the television filming looming over her, she felt the muscles in her chest and shoulders loosening. There was nothing like petting and playing with dogs to get her to relax those tightly wound muscles. The upcoming need to look friendly and chat with people who saw her and her center only in terms of ratings and photo ops was wearing her down, but still she went toward the last occupied run with an anticipatory smile on her face.
All of her dogs were important to her because they meant the training center had a chance of being a success. She had trained individual service animals in the past—whenever her busy work schedule had allowed—but now she was planning to do the work full-time. More than the future of the center, though, was the realization that each of these dogs would mean a sense of freedom and companionship for someone trapped in a lonely and restricted world. She loved having the opportunity to give other sight-impaired people the same experience she’d had when she first got Baxter. Her world had grown, physically and emotionally, when she had been handed the training harness and had first knelt to fumble through fitting it to the patient dog. She had expected to find in him a helper, a guide to get her around more easily and swiftly, but she had found so much more—a relationship with more depth and trust than she had ever experienced, more so than she thought would be possible with other humans. Funny that she needed a television program—the ultimate in meaninglessness, in her opinion—to help promote her efforts to provide deep relationships between her dogs and the people with whom they’d bond.
Lenae edged her way into the last run, counting puppies with one hand while she groped for the latch with the other. There seemed to be more than three of them as they tumbled over each other in the attempt to get closer to her. She finally got the door securely fastened, made sure she had the requisite number of pups still inside the gate, and sat down on the springy grass. She laughed as she was assaulted by the furious licks and eager wet noses.
Lenae picked up her personal favorite of the bunch, a Lab named Pickwick, and cuddled him close. She burrowed her face in his fluffy baby fur and felt his whole body wriggle because he was wagging his tail so hard. She let the warmth and softness of all three pups ease the tension she had been carrying all day. All of her training animals mattered to her, but these three—as
well as three others from another litter that were still with their mother—had special meaning. They’d be the first group of service dogs to be in her training program from the very start. The dogs waiting for their new humans and the ones waiting to begin their first days of training were animals she had purchased from other facilities. These puppies would be with her from day one, and she’d be able to control every detail of their training, from puppy walking until they were released to their new owners. They were the real future of the center, and the true test of her methods and talent as a trainer.
And they were a huge responsibility. She’d need to make sure they went to the right homes, and that they received care and nurturing according to her exacting standards. The weight of the burden was frightening, but she had to accept it if she wanted to make a go of her dream. She was confident in her ability to train a dog and owner, but this was different. Her best chance of success was to follow the same methods she had used in other jobs—and in her everyday life. To try to control every detail so nothing tripped her up.
Lenae gave each puppy a final pat before she got up and put her hand on the chain-link fence, following it to the door of the run. She had given each of her animals some hands-on time, vital for their development, but she had been given something more. In her exhausting and never-ending search for funding and publicity for the center she had reluctantly agreed to be spotlighted on public broadcast television, but it seemed so at odds with the serious work she was trying to do. Spending time with the dogs, seeing them in the various stages of training and development, had made her recommit to the work she was doing. She hated to admit it, but she needed help promoting the facility. She had researched the TV show, hosted by Cara Bradley, after receiving the offer of a segment, and even though it was low-budget and local, it had a good following and would hopefully reach some potential donors and puppy-walking volunteers.
Lenae had spent enough time behind the scenes of television shows—national news broadcasts and not local feel-good programs—to be aware of the shallowness too often present in front of the camera. Today she would put herself in the spotlight for a brief moment and likely feed the host’s desire to promote herself in the industry by acting caring and philanthropic while the cameras were rolling. This time with the dogs, especially the pups, had grounded Lenae. Reminded her why she was going through this today.
She managed to get out of the run without letting the mass of puppies escape, and she walked back to the office to get Baxter. She needed him beside her during the filming. She knelt next to him and he immediately got up and moved so his back was directly in line with her hands. He practically put himself in the harness whenever she brought it near him. She was about to snap the lead on his collar when she felt a tremor of excitement run through him.
“Morning, you gorgeous creature. Oh, and hi to you, too, Lenae.”
“Morning, Des.” Lenae kept the lead in her hand. “Go on, Baxter. It’s okay.”
Once he had her permission, Baxter left her side. She heard his nails click across the floor and felt the energy and heard the grunts and laughter of Baxter and Desmond’s daily wrestling match. Lenae had interviewed several applicants for the job of assistant trainer, but Des had been given Baxter’s immediate stamp of approval. She was so attuned to her dog that she could sense whether his ears were up or down, or where he was looking. She had felt Baxter’s happiness when Des had knelt to pet him—the enthusiastic wag of his tail and the relaxed posture of a dog completely at ease with someone. She hadn’t hesitated to hire the young grad student, and since then she hadn’t once regretted trusting Baxter’s instincts. She knew her own weren’t good enough, but his were unerring.
“Will you make sure the yard is presentable for the film crew?” Lenae asked when Baxter returned to her. She heard the steady rhythm of his panting as she clipped on his lead. “Oh, and we need to talk to Sara again about leaving things out of place. I’d have felt like a fool if I had tripped over that rake while they were filming the show.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Des said. “You just concentrate on smiling for the camera and getting through the day. Keep Baxter by your side and he’ll win the hearts of anyone watching.”
“I wish Baxter could do the whole interview.” Lenae stood and slid her hand along his back until her hand connected with the harness. She gripped the padded handle and felt the accustomed sense of rightness she always felt when joined to Baxter.
Des gave her shoulder a quick pat as he walked past her to do his own tour of the runs. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Baxter might be the brains of your little operation, but you’re the beauty. With the two of you and that swarming mass of puppies, the donations will be rolling in.”
Lenae was still smiling at the compliment when she heard Des leave the office. He was clearly aware of her reluctance to be on TV, but he seemed to think she was just camera-shy and had probably meant his declaration of her beauty to be a confidence booster. She didn’t try to set him straight because it was easier to listen to his encouragement and advice than to tell him the real reason she had tried to avoid doing the show. She didn’t mind standing in front of a camera—and the audience it represented—but she did mind being used for someone else’s self-advancement. Cara Bradley was most likely looking for attention, for a chance to break into a bigger market, pretending to be interested in the people and stories she spotlighted, but only after one goal. Self-promotion.
Lenae had been used once, giving her heart to a woman only to realize it wasn’t her heart Traci was after—and she never wanted to let anyone use her again. She had left her job as a television newswriter because she hadn’t been able to determine the true character of the people she worked with. Now Lenae was far away from the shallow world of television, safely installed at her training center where she was surrounded by creatures she could completely trust. Having to allow her old world into her new one—even for a few hours—was disturbing, but she would put up with it for one day, for only one reason. This time, she wasn’t the only one being used. She needed the publicity from the show, so she’d use Cara Bradley as well.
Chapter Three
Cara watched out the window of the van as they approached the McIntyre Training Center and then drove around it to get the lay of the land. The freshly painted navy-and-white sign seemed to be the only new item on the property. Large dog runs covered nearly every inch of the patchy and weed-filled lawn that surrounded a faded gray prefab house. A training ring filled with a variety of obstacles was enclosed by a broken-down fence with chipped white paint. The big piece of property held promise, but it would require hours of work and buckets of paint before it looked really presentable. Cara heard George muttering to himself as he drove, and she knew he was trying to figure out what camera angles to use to hide the worst of the disrepair.
Cara had been reading Lenae McIntyre’s bio during the ride. Feature writer for the Nation’s News Network turned philanthropist and dog trainer. The story had all the right angles for Cara’s show. Lenae had left a fast-paced, high-paying, high-profile job with Three-N for this significantly less lucrative and low-key new job. Even as Cara planned what to say when she was on-air and highlighting the sacrifices Lenae was making to help unite visually impaired people with service animals, she was wondering what Lenae was really getting out of this lifestyle change. Newcomer Three-N had quickly risen to be the most-watched cable news network in the country, and—given the dates she had been employed with them—Lenae must have contributed to its success. So why would she leave such a high-flying job for this shabby and run-down dog park? For the sole purpose of helping others? Cara doubted it. Maybe Lenae had made a critical error in her writing, exposed the network to liability, and left in disgrace. Okay, unlikely, since her research hadn’t turned up any scandal. But Cara mentally filed the idea away. She could use it later when George asked for her semi-joking, cynical take on the story.
Cara got out of the van and approached the front do
or of the house, with its yellow sign indicating it was the office. The siding and front porch looked even worse close-up than they did from a distance. Yes, Lenae must have had a serious reason for leaving Three-N to come here. Cara’s parents would have loved to have her working there—as an on-air personality and not a behind-the-scenes writer, of course—and they’d have had her involuntarily committed if she had tried to quit. But, much to their dismay, Cara had never wanted to be so exposed. She had her “little show,” as they called it, and she was happy with the work she did even if no one in her family thought it was worthy of pride.
Cara was wrapped in thoughts of her family, and she was startled back to the present when a woman with a large golden retriever by her side opened the door just as she was about to knock. Lenae McIntyre.
Cara lowered her hand. “Oh, hello. I was going to knock, but you answered.” She cringed at her inane way of stating the obvious. She rarely was at a loss for words, having been raised to speak in public as soon as she had uttered her first syllables, but the woman in front of her made it difficult for Cara to breathe properly. She was no stranger to compliments about her own looks, and therefore she disregarded any such praise as meaningless and no real indicator of worth, but Lenae was so stunning that Cara wanted to thank her just for standing there.
“I’m Cara Bradley,” she said, smoothing out her expression with the skills of much practice, even though she knew Lenae couldn’t see the subtle changes. Cara had a feeling Lenae was adept at discerning nuances of tone, and Cara’s calmer demeanor would lead to a more controlled voice. Relax the muscles along the side of the nose, expand through the temples. Cara, after spending hours listening to her parents’ advice and studying herself in the mirror, had developed some effective little tricks for keeping her face calm even when turbulent emotions thrashed under her skin. And Lenae definitely was getting under her skin. She was tall and poised, as if she was completely in control of every muscle in her body. Cara’s mom would have called her statuesque. Lenae would have been as at home in front of the camera as she must have been behind the scenes as a writer. Her appearance was stylish, in a simple, classic manner. Dark mahogany hair in a bob, cut slightly longer in the front. A royal-blue button-up Oxford shirt with dark khaki pants. Cara wasn’t sure whether Lenae had chosen her look because it was simple or because it flattered her, but it managed to do both. Sharp cheekbones were emphasized by the hairstyle, and the shirt highlighted her elegant figure. The colors would look well on camera, and they even brought out the brassy tones in the retriever’s coat.