by Susan Union
Ripples of excitement shimmied the length of Zoom’s body, and he glanced at Gina every few seconds. Gina took two steps forward, swayed unsteadily then grasped the metal rail, back hunched.
Randi propped her elbows on her knees. “Is she okay? She’s holding her stomach like she’s gonna be sick.”
“It’s just nerves. That yellow she’s got on doesn’t help her complexion.”
Gina’s eyes roamed the grandstands but never came to rest on them. She swiped her hand across her mouth.
“I don’t know, Mom. Something doesn’t seem right.”
A gust straight off the ocean ruffled Jojo’s fur. Randi’s mother wrapped her arms around the little dog. “She’s got a lot on her mind.”
Sheila muttered something unintelligible, but her tone was definitely nasty.
“Excuse me?” Lee Ann bristled. “That’s our friend Gina down there.”
“I know who she is. Everybody does.”
Turning toward the ring, Gina stumbled. Again, she covered her mouth. Pulling her hand away from her lips, she stared at her palm then wiped it on her pants.
“Seriously, Mom. One of us should go down and check on her.”
“That would wreck everything, hon. Besides, wild horses couldn’t pull her away from the arena.”
“Why not?”
“This is her life. What’s left of it. With her parents gone, Zoom is all she has.”
“No boyfriend?”
Her mother shifted on her seat. “Here and there, I guess.”
“What about her brother and sister-in-law? The ones in the matching shirts?”
Sheila leaned in. “I’ll tell you what Gina’s problem is. Those Border collie people think they’re better than everyone else.”
Randi almost said it was ironic dog people were catty, but Sheila didn’t seem like the type who’d think it funny.
Gina tried to steady herself by holding onto a pole but swayed as if pushed by the wind. There was an uncomfortable familiarity to her movements. It only took half a second to pinpoint what it was. “She looks drunk.”
Her mother popped up from her seat, waving her arms like a seven year old flagging down the ice cream man, fear of Gina spotting them apparently forgotten.
“What are you doing?”
“Over there, far side of the ring. Look! Don’t you see him? It’s Luke.”
CHAPTER THREE
At six-two, Luke was easy to spot. Not only was he taller than the crowd of mostly women, he held himself straight; his strides easy and long.
“Miranda,” her mother flopped down, eliciting a grunt from Jojo, who clung like a cat to her mother’s thighs, “I didn’t raise you to be rude.” She jabbed an elbow into Randi’s side. “Say hello.”
Randi heaved a sigh and got to her feet. She had no intention of being rude to Luke, but nobody liked their mother telling them what to do. “He’s too far away. I don’t want to yell with all these people around.”
Luke’s gaze found hers across the arena. A slight smile flickered.
He closed the distance to the grandstand quickly and took the stairs two at a time. He wore jeans, a baseball cap, and a green flannel button-down. Reaching their row, he extended his hand, pulling her mother up and into a hug, eliciting a flurry of giggles. He settled himself in the limited space between them, his leg pressing against Randi’s, and gave her a look that made her want to run for cover before she went and did something stupid.
Luke turned to her mother. “Lee Ann, what a nice surprise. I haven’t seen you since you helped Randi move in.”
Randi chewed her lip. Apparently she was the only one who didn’t recall this event.
Luke twisted the thick silver cuff he wore round his wrist. The cuff, his raven-colored hair and high cheekbones, hinted at his Zuni half. Randi would trade her unruly English-German-Scotch-Irish chestnut waves for Luke’s dark locks in a heartbeat. In fact, she preferred his narrow nose, with a kink from where it’d been broken playing hockey when he was a kid, to her plain one that told no story whatsoever.
Today his hair seemed longer than normal. The ends curled slightly, covering the edges of his baseball cap. She curtailed her urge to smooth them with her fingers.
She liked Luke, more than was healthy for a working relationship, and now— blame her mother’s pushiness—she cowered like a teenage girl with an awkward crush. The whole thing was made worse by her mother sensing how she felt.
Her mother fluffed her hair. “So tell me, what brings you here this morning?”
“Randi might remember Jeff Hurley. Veterinary friend of mine?”
“Sounds familiar.” She was too embarrassed to say no.
“He was scheduled to work the trial but came down with the flu this morning, so I’m filling in for him, in case of an emergency.”
Randi fixed her eyes on the horizon and low hills beyond the agility arena. Patches of lumpy clouds topped the ridge like party hats. Her mouth was dry and her stomach light and jittery. Damn her mother for making her feel self-conscious. Despite her rogue feelings, she and Luke had no attachment or understanding, or any relationship to speak of so far, other than a professional one, but she couldn’t help feeling squirrely around him. “What kind of emergencies does one find at dog agility?”
Luke smiled and ruffled Shane’s fur. Shane licked his hand. “You’d be surprised. There’s a breeze now, but later this afternoon, heatstroke could become a factor.” He pointed to several inflatable pools, each half-filled with water, placed on a section of wood shavings between the arena and the adjacent grass field. “Some people don’t recognize the signs of overheating until it’s too late. Then you’ve got fractures, pulled tendons, torn ACLs and things like that. These agility dogs are athletes, you know, just like performance horses.”
“Luke,” her mother chimed in, “can you sit with us for a while and watch this class? My best friend Gina is competing. If you only catch one round today, it’ll be worth it to see her run Zoom. Besides, you can keep an eye on all the goings-on from this vantage point.”
Randi put her hands together, steeple-like, and shoved them between her thighs. “Luke is busy, Mom. He doesn’t have time to hang out.” She had no idea what would come out of her mother’s mouth if Luke stayed, but guaranteed it would be embarrassing.
Luke latched his fingers around his knee. “I can spare a few. The trial manager has my number if he needs to reach me. And you’re right, Lee Ann, the view is great.”
Randi could have sworn Luke was hiding a grin, but he looked away before she could verify one way or the other.
“Perfect.” Her mother, on the other hand, made no attempt to hide her glee. She leaned forward. “Pay attention now. Gina’s about to—”
“Yoo-hoo! Lu-u-cas! Over here!” Barbra Dubois, Luke’s wealthiest client, stood in front of the grandstand, wearing red stilettos along with spandex capri pants topped by a black satin baseball jacket. Barbra set her sights on Luke and, hips swinging, started up the steps. A few feet away, she stopped and struck a pose. Her farm logo, Ridgemark Saddlebreds, covered her left breast. Underneath an embroidered silver high-stepper it read: “The Horse America Made.” Slowly, she unzipped the jacket.
For a moment, nobody moved. Sheila cleared her throat. “You want to sit? There’s not much room but you’re pretty small.” She picked her sweatshirt off the bench. “I can skooch over.”
Reluctantly, Randi followed suit. Luke did the same, creating a space between him and Randi’s mother into which Barbra wedged her bottom.
The buzz in the grandstands faded and a hush fell over the crowd.
Gina and Zoom were first up, seconds away from entering the arena. Jojo tap-danced at her mother’s feet, nails clacking on the metal. Her mother shortened the leash so the little beast wouldn’t bounce herself right through one of the gaps in the bleachers.
All eyes were on Gina as she led Zoom into the ring. Two steps later she tripped over a mound of dirt and almost went down. A collective g
asp rose from the stands, but Gina managed to pull herself together long enough to place Zoom in a sit-stay. She removed his leash and collar, handed it to a ring steward and lurched to a point in the arena just beyond the second jump. Zoom quivered like a junkie in need of a fix.
Gina squared her shoulders, a determined look on her pallid face. “Break!”
Zoom took off, streaking into the ring like his tail was on fire, then, as fast as he started, he rippled seamlessly through a line of weave poles, his body as supple as cooked pasta, before blasting out the other end. A hard right and he flew over the next series of jumps. Randi had never seen a dog move so fast. Zoom was a streaking blur of black and white.
Cueing the Border collie with her body, Gina faced the next hurdle. Zoom charged into the U-shaped tunnel. A thunder of paws on fabric followed and a millisecond later the dog bolted out, hooked a left, scrambled up one side of the high wooden ramp of the A-frame and down just as fast. He froze at the bottom, paws planted on the yellow contact points, tail higher than his nose, eyes riveted on Gina.
“Table!”
Zoom sped across the ring, already in a crouching position. Six feet away he collected his body and sprang like a cat. Airborne, he pulled his legs in like landing gear and hit the top of the obstacle flat-footed, somehow managing to stick on top like a bug on a windshield. The judge began the countdown: “Five, four, three, two, one, go.”
Released and running, Zoom scurried up the teeter, which resembled something swiped from the kiddy park, sans handles and with a fresh coat of paint, hesitated at the fulcrum, until the board reached equilibrium, then tipped his weight. The teeter slammed the ground with a crash that would have sent most dogs skittering for the nearest exit. Unfazed, Zoom wheeled toward another jump. The light gleamed off the black of his coat. All the while, Gina’s movements were smooth, fast and purposeful. The dog was a seal, skimming his way under the water’s surface. It seemed Gina merely had to think something and Zoom executed it flawlessly. He was an extension of Gina—an arm or a leg. Left, jump, right, jump, through the middle of the suspended tire and out. Two beings, one mind. Zoom ripped through the last obstacle, the collapsed chute, and flew past the finish line. According to the flashing electronic scoreboard, Gina and Zoom had completed the course in a blistering twenty-nine point two seconds. A roar lifted from the crowd.
“Damn,” Sheila said. “That was smokin’.”
Her mother beamed, Luke nodded in approval and even Barbra seemed impressed.
Gina stood next to the exit gate, chest heaving, arms open wide.
“Mom, what’s she doing?”
“Old trick. You brace your feet and catch your dog like a beach ball.”
Zoom got a running start, collected himself, flew through the air and slammed into Gina. She stumbled and fell flat on her back. Zoom ended up in a heap on the dirt beyond Gina’s head, rolling ass over teakettle before skidding to a stop. He stood, shook the dust off and trotted back to his owner. He licked her face and wagged his tail. Gina didn’t move. Zoom barked. The crowd laughed as if observing a skit. A few seconds later the twittering subsided, but Gina lay as still as stone.
Sheila leapt to her feet. “What is this? Some kind of comedy routine?”
“Looks like she got the wind knocked out of her.”
Gina’s arms and legs began to jerk. Fists clenched, back arched.
Luke stood. “Something’s wrong.”
Her mother gasped as Gina continued to writhe. Luke pushed his way past the two women and bounded down the steps, threading through the people who’d begun to clog the aisle to get a better look.
A ring steward slipped on Zoom’s harness. The dog leapt into the air, twisting left and right, cracking himself like a whip. Another official held out his arm to keep the gathering crowd of contestants away from Gina.
“Good God.” Randi’s mother shuffled sideways with Jojo clutched in the crook of her arm. “I’ve got to get down there.”
Randi grabbed her arm. “Mom, wait. You’ll just be in the way. There are too many people down there as it is. Luke will know what to do. He’ll let us know if he needs our help.”
Her mother wavered, unsure, lips mashed together in a thin line.
“Luke can handle it.” Barbra said, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
The hush from the stands rose to a low murmur, and a circle of people closing in blocked Randi’s view. Some of the spectators left the grandstands, but most stayed put. The tap, tap, tap of Barbra’s pumps on the bleacher became increasingly bothersome and Randi shot her an irritated glance. Barbra seemed oblivious.
A cool breeze wafted through the grandstands, catching the dust and swirling it beneath the corrugated metal cover. Randi sat still until she couldn’t take it anymore. She passed Shane’s leash to her mother. “I’m going to see if Luke needs help.”
Her mother, Barbra and Sheila all made a move to follow her.
“Stay here.” Randi held up a hand. “There are too many people in the way as it is.”
“You already said that,” Barbra called out. “Why do you get to go?”
Randi ignored her. Barbra’s complaining filled her ears until she reached the bottom of the stands. Luke stepped away from the circle of spectators and pulled out his cell.
Gina’s feet were visible, that was all. Randi pushed her way through the throng. The woman in front of her stepped back, holding her hand over her mouth, apparently having seen enough. Gina’s eyes were open, a pile of vomit pooled beside her cheek. Randi caught a sour whiff of alcohol on the breeze. She couldn’t move, couldn’t comprehend the obvious, because there was no way it could be true.
Her phone cell phone rang, but as soon as her eyes met Luke’s, he disconnected and slid the phone into his pocket. Randi had seen his mouth twist that way twice before. Once when a colic surgery had gone bad and another when a horse came down with an infected lung. Neither survived.
CHAPTER FOUR
The rumble of voices beneath the covered grandstand rose. Gina had been down too long. Even the dogs seemed to sense it and sat with ears pricked and eyes watchful.
The color drained from Lee Ann’s face. She squeezed Jojo tight to her chest. The papillon’s eyelids slanted and released with each pass of her hand over the top of the dog’s silky head.
“Mom—”
Her mother sat then stood again. Three times like a pogo stick before she collapsed onto the bench, head buried in her hands, Jojo’s face peeking out from under the crook of her arm.
Barbra’s voice sliced the air. “What’s going on?”
Sheila clucked her tongue. “Doesn’t look good.”
Barbra collected her things. “I’m going down to see Luke.”
Randi started to protest. Her mother shook her head. “Let her go.”
Sirens wailed, coming closer. An ambulance rocked its way down the long dirt road, the back way into the fairgrounds, dust clouds billowing in its wake. Shane raised his nose to the sky and joined the mournful cries.
****
Randi located Luke near a portable trailer-turned-office, a hollow look in his eyes.
“I did everything I could.”
Luke lost his brother in a car accident, and Randi suspected every death that crossed his path reopened old wounds. “She appeared to be in full cardiac arrest when I got to the ring. I tried CPR. Completely unresponsive. Maybe she had a heart condition, although I’m not sure where the seizure fits in. Her pupils were dilated, too, for what it’s worth.”
If Randi opened her mouth to speak, she’d cry, and she didn’t want to cry in front of Luke.
“The whole thing’s a damn shame. I wish there was something I could have done to save her.” He opened his palm, exposing his phone. “I got a vet call a couple minutes ago, but I need to stay here.”
“I’ll go.”
Luke pulled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Filly got banged up. A lot of blood. First time in the trailer. The owner’s hysterical. She
pulled off the freeway at the Manchester Exit, 5 North. Gas station parking lot. My gut says the wounds are superficial but make sure that’s the case. Do what you can and call me if you need to.”
Randi pulled her keys from her bag. “I’m worried about my mom. She and Gina were like sisters.”
“Go ahead. I’ll look after your mother.”
****
It was mid-afternoon by the time Randi returned to the Seaside Fairgrounds. She snapped Shane’s leash to his collar. Her stomach protested at the sight of the grandstand looming in the distance, though she hadn’t eaten all day and wasn’t even hungry.
Her mother had given her directions to Gina’s brother’s motorhome over the phone. “Third row, fifth one down, counting south to north,” but there were so many of the damn things she’d lost track. Everything from VW vans to Winnebagos, silver Airstream trailers and gleaming luxury buses like the one her mother had gallivanted around the country in with Jordan. Some of these things likely cost more than people’s houses.
She finally spotted the Thortons’ rig, not because of something it had, but because of something it didn’t. Unlike the rest of the motorhomes, there were no wire crates stationed under the awning, no mats, no plastic water bowls outside and no doggie nose prints on the windows. Andrew and Valerie were strictly spectators, her mother had explained, belonging to a small group of fastidious souls who enjoyed watching dogs in competition but preferred to keep their space free of dog hair and slobber. Rare among the agility crowd, for sure, and unthinkable for Randi.
She pulled herself up the retractable steps and peered through the screen door. Jojo barked, sharp and piercing. Perched on her mother’s lap, the little dog’s Mighty Mouse ears and the top half of her petite face were visible over the edge of the table. George Strait played in the background. Andrew sat across from the two women, his back to Randi.
Her mother waved. “Come in, hon.”
She put her thumb on the latch. “What about Shane?” Jojo was inside, so it would hardly be fair for them to ask Randi to tie Shane up, but she still wasn’t convinced the papillon was a dog.