Chapter Fourteen
They stood in the center of a vast sea of asphalt, the parking lot of a big box center. Surrounding them on all sides were retail behemoths: Lowes, Staples, Walmart, A.C. Moore, Dick’s Sporting Goods, Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Although the calendar said fall, the sun chose to ignore the season and beat down on them with blistering intensity. The blacktop radiated heat.
Chloe ran Ian and Preston through the basics, gave them a few pointers, and then turned toward the mega stores. “Where do you want to start?”
“Does it matter?” Ian asked.
“Nope. I want to hit them all, just to make sure you and Preston feel comfortable taking Prince out in public, so maybe we’ll simply go clockwise.” When Ian nodded in agreement, she turned to Preston and squatted on her heels, bringing herself eye-to-eye with the boy. “Did you check Prince’s pack to make sure you have everything you need?”
Preston frowned. “What do I need?”
“Well, you need your medicine, your emergency ID card, a bottle of water, and Prince’s water dish. You need a change of clothes, just in case. You also need those little plastic poop bags, remember?”
He giggled. “Uncle Ian calls those souvenir bags—so Prince doesn’t leave souvenirs wherever we go.”
Chloe glanced up at Ian, who was struggling to maintain a straight face. She sent him a dry look and continued, “While we’re on the subject, remember that this is a working trip for Prince. Make sure he has an opportunity to do his business before he goes inside a building, okay?”
Preston nodded. “Okay.”
“Also, Prince is a little nervous about doors that automatically slide open. Do you want your uncle to handle him until we get inside?”
“No.” Preston proudly threw out his scrawny chest. “Prince’ll be good for me.”
“I’m sure he will be.” Chloe smiled and gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “All right, then. I think we’re good to go.” She stood up and looked at the retriever. Prince was quiet and attentive, panting slightly in the heat. “Hear that, boy? It’s time for you to get to work.”
They trooped across the parking lot and headed for Lowes. As Chloe predicted, Prince was slightly skittish at the sudden whoosh of the glass doors sliding open and the subsequent blast of refrigerated air that hit them. At her suggestion, they looped back out and tried it again. Prince performed much better the second time through, and so did Preston—tightening his hold on the lead to guide the dog through the entrance.
However, there were some things Preston wasn’t so good at: he let Prince stop to sniff a bag of mulch, let the lead out too far when they both startled at the shrill whine of a lumber saw, and forgot to put him in a Sit position when they paused to watch a forklift deposit a load of paving stone.
But those were all relatively minor errors. This was Preston and Ian’s first time working with Prince in public. Very different from the ring work they’d done to date. Too much criticism or corrections from her and Preston would likely freeze up, mistrusting his instincts. Better to guide him slowly, with subtle suggestions over time. In fact—
“Ooh—what a sweet dog!”
Chloe turned to see a woman roughly her own age bending over to pet Prince. Beside her was a little girl the same age as Preston. “Come here, sweetie. Come here and pet the nice doggie!”
Chloe sighed and forced a light tone. “Actually, I’d rather you didn’t pet him,” she said. (Hence the wording on Prince’s vest: Service Dog in Training. Please Do Not Pet.) “I’m sorry, but we’re in the middle of a training exercise. I don’t want him to be distracted.”
The woman waved away her objection. “Oh, that’s all right. We’ll just take a minute. My daughter’s afraid of dogs, and I want to show her how gentle they can be.” She leaned forward, putting her face just inches away from Prince’s, and vigorously rubbed her palms on either side of his muzzle. “You good boy. You good dog,” she crooned. “Come here and pet him, sweetie.”
Wrong, Chloe thought. Sticking her face in a strange dog’s face and grabbing its muzzle was an excellent way to get bitten, an event that would only traumatize her daughter further. Fortunately for the woman, Prince was too well trained to react. Nevertheless, she took Prince’s lead and put him in a Down position behind her. She looked at the woman. “There are wonderful dogs available for adoption at the local shelter. You and your daughter are welcome to go there and visit them. But when you see a dog with a vest like this, it means he’s working, and you shouldn’t pet him.”
“Working?”
“Yes. He’s a canine assistant. He’s being trained to help people with disabilities.”
The woman’s gaze moved from Chloe to Preston. She frowned as she sized him up. “What’s wrong with him? He looks perfectly normal to me.”
Anger flashed through Chloe. As if Preston’s medical condition was any of this woman’s business. As if Preston wasn’t as ‘normal’ as any other child. She drew in a deep breath, barely managing to hold on to her temper. God help her. One of these days… One of these days she would let fly her own series of questions, just to let an ignorant, pushy stranger like her know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of her inquiries.
How much do you weigh? What religion are you? Do you have any credit card debt? Has your husband ever cheated on you? How often do you have sex? Are you on birth control? Do you only have one child? Why? Did you have trouble conceiving? Don’t you like being a mother?
Ian’s voice broke through her revenge fantasy. “C’mon, Preston. I think we’re done here. Let’s go.”
Chloe pulled herself together, cued Prince to Go, and stepped beside Ian, walking away from the woman without another word. “You handled that well,” she said, slightly embarrassed. In truth, he’d handled the situation better than she had. Neither he or Preston looked upset by the encounter.
He gave a loose shrug. “The two percent rule.”
“What?”
He sent her a cocky smile. “By my reckoning, ninety-eight percent of all people you meet are totally decent. But that other two percent, well, I figure they’re just sprinkled in to keep life interesting. Isn’t that right, Preston?”
“Right, Uncle Ian!” Preston skipped along beside them. In his little boy voice he sang out, “Ninety-eight percent of people are good, two percent of people are total assholes!”
Ian stumbled. He made a strangled sound, a noise that was part choking laughter, part horror. “Preston! Where’d you hear—”
“From you, Uncle Ian!”
Chloe arched a reproving brow at him. “Looks like you need to pay more attention to what you say.”
He arched a brow right back at her and leaned close to whisper, “No shit.”
She caught her lower lip in her teeth to stifle a giggle. Ian’s palm settled in the small of her back. The light, masculine scent of his soap drifted around her. She caught a blissful sigh and swallowed it before it could escape her lips. She felt so happy she was almost buoyant. If this wasn’t heaven, she didn’t know what was.
They moved together in an easy rhythm, Ian’s longer strides effortlessly adjusting to meet hers. Thoroughly enjoying themselves, they visited four more big box retailers, strolling the aisles and navigating the crowds. Playfully debating the merits of whatever merchandise they found on display: did she prefer rattan outdoor furniture or wrought iron? Did he like Dell laptops or Apple? Carmel flavored popcorn or movie theater butter?
When they reached the last store, Chloe suggested Ian and Preston take Prince through Walmart without her. Surprise showed on his rugged features. “You think we’re ready?”
“Of course. You’ve been doing just fine. Besides, in a couple of weeks you’ll be on your own everywhere, so you might as well practice now.”
She caught a glimpse of Ian’s hazel gaze darkening, his mouth tightening, before he turned away. “Right,” he said. He lightly patted Preston’s back. “What do you say, buddy? One more store, just us guys?”
Ch
loe fired up the engine of her Subaru wagon as she waited for them to return. A waste of gas, but she needed the AC—it was too hot to sit in the car without it. She settled into her seat and watched people come and go, busily running errands. Mothers with cranky kids entering Staples for back to school supplies. College students leaving Bed, Bath, and Beyond lugging twin XL bedding and brightly colored dorm accessories. Men checking out the end of season deals on outdoor grills.
Life. Living. The complexity and fragility of it so completely ignored, replaced by all the day-to-day rushing around. Everyone operating on the blind faith that one day would follow the next in an endless, uninterrupted stream. A spouse would always be at home to greet you with a kiss or a quarrel. A child would always be there to tuck into bed at the end of the day. A quick trip to the supermarket and back would be uneventful. Such precarious assumptions. She spied the woman who’d irritated her earlier in Lowes. She was chatting away on her cell phone, dragging her daughter behind her through the parking lot.
Chloe felt an unexpected burst of compassion for her. She wanted to shout, Stop! Hang up the phone! Turn around and hug your daughter! Be totally present in this moment, because now was all that mattered. The only guarantee anyone ever got.
Emotion swelled in her chest and Chloe was appalled to feel her eyes grow moist. Annoyed, she swiped at her cheeks and drew in a shaky breath to steady her nerves. Get a grip, she scolded herself. She knew better than to spout that sort of preachy nonsense. Nothing but empty platitudes and bumper sticker wisdom.
It was just… Well, today was harder than she thought. Her emotions felt twisted and tattered, wrung out like laundry and left hanging to dry. Ridiculous to feel that way.
Ian and Preston were doing remarkably well, especially considering this was their first time working with a service dog in public. Another rousing success for the Hudson Valley Canine Assistance Camp. Everything was falling into the rhythm of camp: the first two weeks were spent learning to trust their trainer and their dog, the second two weeks were about learning to trust themselves. With every day that followed, they would move away from her and take another step on their journey toward independence. This was a triumph, not a loss. And yet… her heart ached just thinking about it.
Looking up, she saw Ian, Preston, and Prince heading across the parking lot. Preston stomped along beside Ian, his lips set in an angry pout she could see even from this distance. Uh-oh. Maybe things weren’t going as smoothly as she thought.
“Everything okay?” she asked once they were inside and buckled up. Preston gave an aggravated grunt and buried his face in Prince’s fur.
“Everything’s just fine,” Ian replied smoothly. He shot her a look that told her everything was under control, though perhaps not handled the way Preston would have liked. A skirmish over a toy, she suspected. Obviously Preston wasn’t happy with the outcome.
Following Ian’s lead, she let the matter drop. They left the shopping center and drove through town, chatting about which store they visited might have been Prince’s favorite. They tried to lure Preston into the conversation, but the only response he would give was a sullen grunt.
A group of excited teenagers on the side of the road caught Chloe’s attention. They were holding handmade ‘Car Wash’ signs and motioning for motorists to turn in. She glanced at Ian. “Do you mind if we stop? This thing’s caked with dust—and I wouldn’t mind if someone vacuumed up the fur.”
He gave an easy assent and they pulled off. The car wash was set up at Benton’s recreation park, a sprawling fifty acre complex that encompassed soccer fields, baseball diamonds, basketball and tennis courts, playgrounds, jogging paths, a fenced dog park, and a community pool and clubhouse. Chloe passed her car keys and a twenty dollar donation to two young girls wearing varsity soccer shirts. They motioned to the line of cars ahead of hers. “It’ll be about thirty minutes, is that okay?”
She smiled. “No problem.” She turned to suggest they grab a bite to eat, but Ian and Preston were gone. She spied them standing off by themselves, Prince in a Down position beside Preston. Ian squatted on his ankles to bring himself eye-to-eye with his nephew. Normally Ian did everything he could to cajole a smile out of Preston. Now it was obvious he felt scolding was due, and he seemed to be handling it beautifully. No anger, just patience and a firm guiding hand.
Chloe’s heart swelled just watching him. Ian was a terrific uncle. One day he’d make a fabulous father. She pictured him cradling a delicate baby in his arms, a tiny little thing swaddled in a fuzzy pink blanket. Chloe gave an impatient shake of her head. God, she was a mess today. An emotional pinball machine. She gave herself another stern talking to: She was doing her job. This was her job. Remember that.
After a minute, Preston nodded, and then wrapped his uncle in a fierce hug. The crisis had passed. He ran toward her, Prince trotting happily at his side. “I’m sorry I was grumpy,” he blurted out once he reached her. “That wasn’t very polite of me.”
“Why, thank you, Preston. Apology accepted.” She smiled at him, and then looked at Ian. “So. Am I the only one who’s hungry?”
While the athletic facilities varied, there was only one option at the park when it came to food—a ‘50s-style diner tucked away near the entrance. The place was vintage to the point of being almost run-down. A strong infusion of cash was clearly needed to bring it back up to speed. But judging from the weathered For Sale sign hanging from one corner of the building, the owners were looking to get out, rather than put more money in. The food was limited to just burgers and fries, a few sodas and ice creams. But after a long morning, they were all too hungry to care. They grabbed their lunch and took it to a shady picnic table. Ian cued Prince to wait under the table while they ate, filled his water dish, and they dug in.
Music from the car wash blared through cordless speakers. They enjoyed their lunch to the accompaniment of Adele, Springsteen, Beyoncé, and then Chloe caught a familiar opening riff. She leaned toward Preston. “Hey. Do you recognize this song? You heard it at my house when we were making meatballs.”
Preston screwed up his face in thought. “Is this a Prince song?”
“Yup. Purple Rain. One of his biggest hits.”
“I like it. Is he making any new songs?”
She shook her head. “No. He died pretty recently.”
Preston nodded in thought and dragged his French fry through a puddle of ketchup. “Do you think he and mommy are friends in heaven?”
Chloe froze. Her gaze shot to Ian, whose expression gave nothing away. He looked deliberately blank, yet he radiated a cautious tension—like someone who’d suddenly been tasked with diffusing a prickly bomb. He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure about that, buddy. But it’d be nice if they were.”
“I think they are friends,” Preston asserted.
“Why’s that?”
“’Cause of the purple thing.”
“What purple thing?”
“Don’t you remember, Uncle Ian? Mommy’s purple rule.”
Ian’s brows knit together. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I don’t—”
“It was from kindergarten,” Preston said. He sipped his soda through his straw, swung his ankles beneath the bench. “I was scared to go at first, but mommy said that whenever I saw something purple, I would know she was thinking of me. She said that was her way of giving me a hug, even though but she couldn’t be right there with me. She said it would help me be brave.”
I would have liked Barbara, Chloe thought. I would have liked her very much.
She glanced at Ian. He nodded, and in a voice that sounded slightly strangled said, “Uh-huh. That sounds like something she would do.”
“Were there many purple things in your classroom?” she asked.
Preston nodded and took another bite of his hamburger. “Sure, lots. Purple crayons, purple stickers, purple alphabet letters, and a purple bean bag chair where you could sit when it was quiet time.” He smiled up at her. “Prince was wearing a purple colla
r when I met him. That’s how I knew he would be a good dog and wouldn’t bite me. And you were wearing a purple sweater the night we got here.”
She blinked in surprise. Had she been wearing purple? That wasn’t normally a color she wore, but maybe.
“What else do you remember about her?” Ian asked.
“I remember she was as tall as you, Uncle Ian. And she had blue eyes, just like me!”
Chloe watched as the eagerness on Ian’s face, the earnest desire to hear things about his sister that he’d never known before, clouded over. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “Your mom’s eyes were hazel, just like mine. And she was shorter than Chloe.”
Preston frowned as he considered that. After a beat, he gave a loose shrug. “Oh. Okay.” His attention wandered toward the playground equipment. “I’m finished. Can I go play now?”
“Sure. Just stay where I can see you.”
Ian pushed his half-eaten lunch away. His gaze followed Preston as he raced toward the playground equipment. Rather than climbing the slide or jumping on a swing, he and Prince stood cautiously to one side, watching the other children play.
“How’s he doing?” she asked, interrupting the heavy silence that had settled between them.
“You mean his seizures?”
“Yeah.”
“Still one or two a day, usually lasting about fifteen minutes.”
So no change. About what she figured. Sometimes she was with them when the seizures occurred, but not always. Her other duties at camp took her away for hours at a time. “And Prince? He’s still good at Alerting when the seizures occur?”
“He hasn’t missed once—at least, not that I know of.”
Okay. Very good. But Chloe still felt a slight stab of disappointment. The best of all possible outcomes was if Prince Alerted before a seizure happened. She and Ian had discussed that at length. In that event, medication could be given to prevent the seizure altogether. Unfortunately that wasn’t something that could be trained. Some dogs picked up on hormonal cues that indicated a seizure was imminent; other dogs couldn’t discern those changes. The science was inexact.
Courting Chloe (Hudson Valley Heroes Book 1) Page 14