Pet Whisperer...er...rrr

by Carolyn McCray; Ben Hopkin

  “How could you know that?”

  “I’ve just heard those words before. A lot.”

  Okay, more than a lot. Which was why he was living with his mom … and well, why he wasn’t living with his mom anymore. Women. They always wanted something. Like this chick. She was giving him the funniest look.

  Quickly, Wyatt clarified, “I’ve heard those words from other parrots. Of course. Parrots, not people. It’s very common condition in parrots.”

  “What triggers it?”

  “Liar!”

  The woman was so sincere that it almost made his heart hurt. How could she really not know? And how could he tell her that her parrot was just, well, parroting her own words to her slacker boyfriend? That they really weren’t the bird’s words, but her own, vocalized very loudly and frequently? And now those same words, telling the sad tale of this woman’s life, were being broadcast across the ballroom.

  “I think … I think …” Wyatt struggled.

  “Whose thong is this?” Polly demanded.

  How in the heck was Wyatt going to soften this one? Then inspiration hit, again. “I think your parrot was very traumatized by your breakup.”

  “Really?”

  Okay, somebody was super-traumatized. And did it really matter if it was the bird or the woman? Somebody had to do something before the bird’s squawk ruptured his eardrums.

  “I think you … I mean, she, Polly, the bird … really loved your boyfriend, and was really hurt when he betrayed you … I mean, her.”

  This was not easy, but the woman’s eyes seemed to hold a bit of hope.

  “What do we do about it?”

  Darn. His plan didn’t extend that far. “Well, as you can imagine, she is upset, but we have to get you, I mean, her, moving on.”

  “Jerk!”

  “How?” the brunette asked.

  “Well …” Wyatt had to come up with something quick. “Maybe she needs a new vocabulary.”

  “Like what?”

  “How about, ‘Men rock?’ ” Wyatt suggested. It seemed like a good enough place to start.

  “Men suck!” the bird vigorously countered.

  “Men rock, Polly,” corrected the young lady. “Men rock.”

  The obviously confused parrot looked at Wyatt, looked back at her owner, ruffled her feathers, and just screeched loudly.

  Wyatt prompted gently, “Now try, ‘We can open our hearts again.’ ”

  “Come on, Polly, ” the woman urged. “‘We can open our hearts again.’”

  “Open heart,” the bird muttered, and then ground her beak.

  Progress. Actual progress. Wyatt added, “Now try, ‘Oh, yes, that feels good.’ ”

  The woman cocked her head. “I don’t understand—”

  “Hey, I’m just going off the bird, man,” Wyatt said as the buzzer went off. “I’m just going with her vibe. Work with me here.”

  As he rose, the woman crooned to Polly, “Oh, yes, that feels good.”

  “Feels good.” Squawk. Then, very pointedly, the parrot looked at Wyatt. “Loser.”

  “Batting five hundred,” Wyatt said as he moved on. “I’ll take it.”

  * * *

  As the buzzer went off and the last pet communicator moved off, Jazmine sagged in her chair. Over two dozen “pet psychics” and Andrea was, if possible, even more dejected than when they came in. Although Jazmine didn’t blame her. That chick with the spikes in her hair nearly stabbed Andrea while she was trying to check the little girl’s heart chakra.

  Jazmine’s gamble hadn’t paid off. At least there was little risk that that her employer would find out that Jazmine had gone against her wishes. At this point, she couldn’t accuse Jazmine of anything beyond missing two hours of playground time.

  “Come on, Andrea,” Jazmine encouraged. “We’ve got to get you lunch.”

  The little girl scooted off the chair, but didn’t respond.

  “How about getting those chicken nuggets you like?” Jazmine asked, but again, no spark ignited in Andrea’s eyes. And that little girl loved her chicken nuggets.

  “Okay, if that’s not the ticket, then how about if you eat all your veggies, we’ll go get some Cold Stone Creamery ice cream?”

  Not even a flicker of a smile.

  If watching ice cream get chopped up and M&Ms swirled in didn’t raise Andrea’s spirits, nothing would.

  She took Andrea’s hand and guided her toward the exit. Jazmine was supposed to turn in her “communicator” scorecards, but why bother? None of them were any help. Well, except for that brief moment with Wyatt. It was the most alive she’d seen Andrea since Blackie’s passing.

  Jazmine scanned the crowd, searching for those unbuttoned cuffs. Across the room, she spotted Wyatt. He looked even more disheveled than he had previously, but there was something else different about him. Taller? Something.

  Their gazes met. Jazmine begged, literally begged with her eyes, for him to come over, but he only glanced down at Andrea, and then turned away.

  Jazmine sighed one last time, and then headed toward the exit.

  A voice sounded from behind, rising above the clamor of the emptying room.

  “Blackie?”

  Jazmine and Andrea spun around to find Wyatt pretending to search the room. “Does someone know a Blackie?”

  Andrea’s hand shot up as he waved it furiously.

  “Quite the beast, I understand,” Wyatt said as he walked over.

  Jazmine mouthed “thank you” over Andrea’s head. Wyatt gave a wink in return. She felt herself grinning with no desire to stop.

  “Why, yes,” Jazmine said as she knelt beside the little girl. “We knew a Blackie, didn’t we, Andrea?”

  Andrea nodded so vigorously that Jazmine worried that she might injure herself. But that was so much better than her rag doll impression from before that Jazmine didn’t even try to intervene.

  * * *

  You know what? Wyatt could get used to this whole knight-in-shining-armor thing. The kid was smiling, and even the redhead looked happy. His job here was nearly done, and then he could go buy a hoagie in celebration.

  “Well,” Wyatt said. “Blackie just wanted me to tell you that he’s safe and sound in heaven.”

  There. That should do it.

  But the kid’s lips feel from their lofty heights and the pain haunted her eyes. Wyatt didn’t know little girls very well, but even he knew that tears weren’t far off.

  “Remember,” Jazmine prompted. “Her mom doesn’t believe in heaven.” The redhead gave Andrea a reassuring squeeze. “Her mom says it’s a made-up place for made-up stories.”

  Darn it. Wyatt had forgotten. And as the joy in Andrea seeped out, Wyatt scrambled to fix it.

  “Hello! I didn’t say I was fluent in Labrador!” He declared. “Now, a Lhasa Apso I’d have nailed the first time.” Jazmine gave him that “Where are you going with this?” look. Honestly, Wyatt didn’t know, but at least they were going. “There are very subtle differences in inflections between the breeds.”

  Wyatt let loose with a series of three barks and a whine that he hung onto for three seconds longer than he probably should have, but it made Andrea’s smile grow, if just a little. He was on to something.

  “See? That’s Labrador for heaven.” He proceeded to give a loud bark, followed by three short whines. “And that’s for never-ending field.”

  Wyatt dropped his features into a completely deadpanned expression as he looked at Andrea. “You can totally see how I could get them confused.”

  Andrea’s smile grew. “Field?” she asked with a little squeak in her voice, as though she wasn’t used to using it much.

  “Heck, yeah,” Wyatt exclaimed, happy to have the kid talking again. “Acres and acres, as far as the eye can see of fields. Just like a huge dog park.”

  * * *

  Andrea’s smile flipped itself into a frown. Jazmine stepped in to clear up the confusion. “Yeah, um, Blackie didn’t play with others so well.”

>   Wyatt much more smoothly covered his tracks this time.

  “Hello? Dog park.” Not ‘dogs’ park,” Wyatt explained, as if it were Jazmine and Andrea who were the confused ones. “In this park, it is just Blackie running and playing all by himself.”

  “Wouldn’t he be lonely?” Andrea asked, with a quiver in her voice.

  Jazmine started to bend down to comfort her, but Wyatt waved her back and knelt beside the little girl. He motioned for Andrea to draw nearer. Wyatt gazed into her eyes intently, and for the moment lost the I’m-an-adult-talking-to-a-kid voice.

  “You know how I told you about that green, green field with grass up to Blackie’s ankles, just high enough to have fun rooting around, but low enough so he can run at full speed?”

  Andrea nodded solemnly.

  “Well, across the entire horizon, there’s one tree and one tree only.”

  “Is it big?” Andrea asked, wonder in her voice.

  “It’s huge,” Wyatt answered, his arms stretching out wide. “And the shade? Ah, the shade’s just warm enough for short sleeves, but cool enough that you don’t have to wear icky shorts.”

  Andrea grinned openly. God, it was so good to see her happy again. Even for just a moment.

  Wyatt tugged on the edge of Andrea’s shirt. “And that’s where your dad waits.”

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah. Every day he just hangs out under there,” Wyatt explained, “Sipping on some iced tea, waiting for Blackie to get done playing.”

  Jazmine brought her hand up to the golden locket that hung around her own neck. Inside was a picture of her own father, lost so very long ago.

  “Then what happens?” Andrea asked, with wonder in her eyes.

  “A little tug-of-war here. A little head-petting there, and then they take a nap.” Wyatt explained. If Jazmine wasn’t mistaken, his voice cracked a little at the end there. But whatever emotion had passed over him, he seemed to pull out of it. His voice was chipper as he continued, “Every day. Just like clockwork.”

  “Then I want to go there!” Andrea anguished.

  * * *

  Wait. This was not how this was supposed to go. Wyatt frantically tried to figure out how in the heck to get out of this one.

  “I want to go play with Blackie and Dad!” Andrea demanded.

  Jazmine knelt beside them, stroking Andrea’s hair. “Baby, you can’t.”

  “If I die, I can.”

  Dang it. When did kids get so darn smart?

  “No, no, no, no …” Jazmine said, glancing over at Wyatt. She tilted her head toward Andrea. As though she expected him to do something. Had she not met him?

  But with Andrea’s tears threatening to spill over, what else could Wyatt do but wade into the deep end of the pool without a life jacket?

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Wyatt announced, hoping that his brain would catch up with his mouth. “What are you …? You think you can just go to the great green field all willy-nilly?” He gave as close to a stern look as he could. “What? Huh?” he asked Andrea.

  The little girl looked more confused than anything else, but that was way better than her crying. Wyatt mock-snorted. “That’s just crazy talk. Like you can just plop under the tree!”

  The beginnings of an idea started forming. “How old are you, anyway?” he asked Andrea.

  “Six,” she said quietly, leaning against Jazmine for support.

  “Well then, okay.” Wyatt said more lightheartedly. “That’s pretty young, so it makes a little more sense than this ‘I’m just going to go to run in the field thing.’ ” He turned to Jazmine and chided, “Didn’t you teach her anything yet?”

  “Sorry,” Jazmine said with a playful grin at the edge of her lips. “Why don’t you explain it to her?”

  Great. And here he thought he’d tossed the ball in the redhead’s court. Apparently, Jazmine played conversational tennis very well.

  “Wow. Just wow!” he said to Andrea. “’Just go sit under the tree …’ ” Wyatt repeated, as if he simply couldn’t believe the concept. “Did I not explain the hugeness of this field and the coolness of this tree?”

  “Yeah …” Andrea timidly answered.

  “All right then,” Wyatt said, the plan solidifying. “You see, ordinary people can’t handle that much awesomeness at once. You should have figured out that you can’t go to the great, green field until you’re ready for it.”

  “How do you know when you’re ready?” the little girl asked.

  Hmmm. How did you know? But this wasn’t a philosophical debate. This was Wyatt trying to get Andrea away from the whole “I want to go to the field” idea.

  “Did Blackie shake hands?” he asked her.

  “Yeah, really good.”

  “Both feet?” Off Andrea’s nod, Wyatt continued. “And how many years did it take him to really perfect that? Not just slapping you with his paw,” Wyatt said as he smacked his own hand, “but really, really high-fiving you?”

  He put his hand up, and Andrea hit it.

  “From before I was born.”

  Wyatt grinned. “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Blackie finally knew he was ready to show your dad something amazing.” He held the little girl’s gaze. “The perfect shake.”

  “Yes, yes,” Jazmine added, seeming to pick up on where he was headed. “Your dad’s going to want to hear about your first day in second grade. And your science fair project in fifth grade.”

  Wyatt dovetailed seamlessly. “Your first soccer goal. The first time you get lai—”

  “Get engaged,” Jazmine said over him. Okay, maybe high school prom was a subject for another talk.

  “Yeah,” Wyatt conceded. “That.”

  “Really?” Andrea asked him.

  “Trust me. I’m looking forward to sitting under my own tree …” Wyatt said, having to keep his voice steady. He glanced up at Jazmine, who fidgeted with her necklace. “It’s oak, if you care … but not yet,” he emphasized to Andrea. “Not yet, my little friend.”

  Wyatt stood up, stretching out the kink in his left leg. “I’ve got way too much to do first before I visit that tree. As do you, little Missy.”

  He was about to ruffle her hair when she launched into his arms and squeezed as hard as she could. Wyatt wasn’t sure what to do. Was there some sort of child-hugging protocol? They really should come with a label or something. He looked up at Jazmine for help, but her gaze was fixed on Andrea. Were those tears in the redhead’s eyes?

  He opened his mouth to say something witty so he didn’t have two crying females on his hands when his cell phone rang with the theme to Bonanza.

  * * *

  Jazmine had never been happier to be wrong about someone. She watched as Andrea detached herself from Wyatt’s arms so that he could answer his phone. Andrea moved back to her customary spot—directly behind Jazmine’s right thigh—and nuzzled into her waist.

  “Wyatt without the Earp here,” the pet communicator joked into the phone. Jazmine rolled her eyes a bit. But just a bit. “Sorry, you must have the wrong Mr. Stampley.” Wyatt’s grin evaporated. “Bodhi just had a headache, maybe a migraine. He couldn’t—” His hand flailed, useless at the end of his arm. Then Wyatt went utterly still. “Stroke?” He paused, the light going out of his eyes. “Which hospital? Valley Presbyterian. I’ll be right there.”

  He turned to face them. “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta—”

  “Of course,” Jazmine said, putting her hand on his arm. “We’re fine. Go.”

  He attempted a halfhearted smile at Andrea, but then turned and headed to the exit at nearly a run, trailing his worry behind him like the tattered shadow of a boy who refused to grow up.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER 4

  Martin sauntered over to Mrs. Crumpet’s desk even before the organizer gave the announcement.

  “If we could please have all of the pet communicators come to the main desk to receive their referrals.” He was first to queue up, as usual. With the poise only several years
of male cheerleading could give him, he reached out a hand for his stack.

  The assistant gave him what appeared to be five small slips of paper. He stared at the tiny pile in his hand, then back up at the assistant. He gave a disdainful sniff.

  “I believe you have given me the wrong referral stack?”

  The timid assistant quavered. “No. I mean, I don’t think so.”

  “I normally garner three times this many,” Martin demanded, making the girl tremor before his eyes. “You must be completely incompetent.”

  “I’m sorry … I don’t know—”

  “Oh, I think we have another stack,” Mrs. Crumpet stated, urging the assistant on to some lesser communicator before she turned her full attention to him. “Martin, let me have a look.”

  Martin purred, “Much better.”

  * * *

  It was like coming up out of a dark hole filled with yucky mud. Everything now looked bright, and there were so many colors.

  Andrea smiled up at Jazmine. This was her best day since … well, since Dad and Blackie had left. She was still sad that she couldn’t see them yet. Really sad. But they were together. And happy. She felt like she had a hot air balloon filling her up inside. It hurt a little. But it was wonderful.

  Jazmine smiled back at her. Andrea was sure she had never seen anyone as beautiful as her nanny. Her hair was so shiny. It looked and smelled like the candles Mommy used to burn in the kitchen. Cinnamon.

  Even Jazmine’s voice was pretty and warm, “See? I told you that Blackie was happy.”

  “And with Daddy,” Andrea reminded her. Her dad with Blackie. In the field. With the tree. The balloon grew.

  “And with Daddy.” Jamzine’s smile widened, her green eyes glowing with warmth. Maybe Jazmine would be there with them someday. The balloon almost burst. Then she thought of something else, and the balloon seemed to shrink a bit.