Around the Bend

by Shirley Jump

  “Dave would have loved this,” I said softly, tenderness curling around my memories of my husband. Dave would have been the first out with the “attaboys” and the call for a celebration. I looked at the glistening trophy, a golden dog sitting atop an A-frame obstacle, and for the first time since my life had been turned inside out, I wished my husband were still here.

  My focus went to Harvey. He still stood at my feet, ignoring all the praise and pats on the head. He simply watched me, silent and unreadable. I reached into my pocket, found a lone dog treat and held out my palm for him to take it.

  He ignored the treat and instead turned away, his attention going over his shoulder, sweeping the ballroom. His ears perked up for a second, then drooped. He let out a sigh and hung his head.

  “I think he’s sad,” Susan said.

  “He’s a dog, he doesn’t get sad.” And yet, I wondered if maybe he was. In the past two days, I’d grown closer to that dog than I’d ever thought possible. Melancholy seemed to be hanging on his little shoulders. Maybe it was post-show letdown or some such thing.

  The winners were announced a final time as the show wrapped up. Someone in the audience shouted a “Yeah, Harvey!” The dog’s ears stood at attention again and he pranced in a circle, scanning the audience. But after a moment, his head sank again onto his chest. He dropped down and crumpled onto the floor.

  “Do you think he’s looking for Dave?” Susan asked.

  “He’s probably confused,” I said, though what I knew about dogs would fit in a matchbook. “Every time he’s performed here, Dave has been here to greet him at the end of the show. Maybe he’s expecting Dave to show up.”

  I knew how he felt. Every step of this journey, I’d kept feeling Dave would be just around the corner, laughing at the prank he’d pulled. I’d see him walk into the room, his familiar smile and confident stride hitting me like it used to years ago, when I’d fallen so hard for him I’d committed the second biggest spontaneous act of my life—

  Eloping.

  Harvey, I knew, missed Dave. Harvey hadn’t been at the funeral or the wake. He’d never seen Dave again after being dropped at Susan’s house. He had no idea what had happened.

  Oh, damn. How did you tell a dog that his owner was dead?

  “Let me get him out of this mess,” I said to Matt and Susan. “I’ll meet you guys out front. Maybe he needs to go out or something.” I wove my way through the crowd, trying to reach the exit of the convention hall.

  “Excuse me! What are you doing with Dave Reynolds’s dog?”

  I spun around at the sound of a woman’s voice behind me. Tall and thin, her long brown, straight hair was a near match for that of the Irish setter at her feet. Before I could answer her, she was striding up to me. “Where’s Dave? He never misses one of Harvey’s shows.”

  “He passed away,” I said, the words getting a little easier each time I said them, but still feeling like barbed wire as they left my throat.

  She put a hand over her chest. “Oh, my! I thought I heard LouAnn Rawlins say that, but I didn’t believe her. That woman is nothing but a gossip. Still, what a shock. He was such a great guy. We all loved him and Harvey. He’s been a fixture here for years.” The woman arched a brow. “But why are you working with the dog? Are you one of Vinny’s helpers?”

  “No. I’m Dave’s widow.” Or rather, the president of the Dave Reynolds Widow Club, but I kept that to myself.

  “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” The hand to the chest again. “What an awful tragedy. He was so young. What happened?”

  “Heart attack.” The woman launched into another round of sympathetic sounds. I slipped on my polite face, the one I’d learned to perfect when teachers had asked me how things were at home or I made up some story for the guidance counselor about why our mother hadn’t attended the meeting about Georgia’s shaky grades.

  “Were you a friend of Dave’s?” I asked her.

  “Oh, everyone was. He was one of the nicest guys I ever met.”

  I gave Harvey a little pat, but he didn’t respond with more than a flicker of his tail. “Yes, Dave was quite charming,” I replied, still polite.

  “Well, at least you put one rumor to rest. People have been wondering about you.”

  “Rumor?”

  The woman waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, some people have been speculating that Dave finally sold Harvey.”

  I looked down at the dog, who was still just sitting beside me, silent and as enthusiastic as a sock. “Sell him? Why would Dave do that?”

  The woman shrugged, watching as her dog tried to initiate the canine waltz of sniffing. Harvey ignored him. “It was just something he kicked around once, a couple months ago at one of the other shows. He seemed real determined to do it. Even asked a couple of us if we were interested in taking on the Harvey franchise. But none of us thought he was serious. Dave loved that dog.”

  “Was he having troubles with Harvey?”

  “Oh, no. Those two got along like butter and toast. I got the feeling there was something…” Her voice trailed off and an uncomfortable stiffness filled her features.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Dave died so suddenly that I was left with a lot of unanswered questions. If there’s something you can tell me to fill in the blanks, I’d appreciate it.”

  The woman took my arm and drew me over to one of the long seats that lined the exterior walls of the hotel. Her dog lay at her feet and let out a yawn. Harvey kept looking behind him, watching the people come out of the room.

  “I got the feeling,” the woman said, “and I could be totally wrong about this, but it seemed Dave wanted to change his life somehow. Like he wasn’t happy with what was going on. It was the first time I ever saw him stressed. He said he was buying a new house and I don’t know, maybe that meant some kind of change that he wanted to be ready for?” A weak grin crossed the woman’s face, as if she’d just realized she might have told me too much. “Or maybe he was afraid Harvey would chew up the woodwork.”

  We had bought the house December fifteenth. I’d meant to get the Christmas decorations up that weekend, something I’d skipped doing for far too many years because I’d been too busy. Then a client called me on Saturday morning, needing help to clean up an end-of-the-year accounting mess. When I finally came home from work that weekend night, Dave had been there, a complete surprise, because he’d left the day before for what was supposed to be a three-day trip.

  The tree was decorated, Bing Crosby was crooning “White Christmas” on the stereo, a fire was lit in the fireplace, candles were burning around the room, even my favorite cinnamon potpourri was simmering in a pan on the stove. He’d done it all, creating the one thing he knew would melt my heart because I’d never had one as a child—a traditional, homey Christmas.

  He’d told me over a glass of wine by the fireplace, one of the coziest moments we’d had in months, that he was going to cut back on his travel because he really wanted us to make a stab at having a family. Softened by the tender gesture of the Christmas tree and the melody of “Silent Night” in the background, I’d finally agreed.

  “Was this around the middle of December?” I asked the woman.

  She thought a bit. “Yeah. December seventeenth, actually. I remember because of Her Highland Warrior here.” She gestured toward the dog with an embarrassed grin. “What can I say? I’m a romance novel fan. Anyway, my dog took his first ribbon in agility. Harvey, of course, was the favorite for first place in overall talent, but Dave had left before the competition on Sunday morning. We figured it was all a phase and he’d be back. We all expected to see him here.” The woman looked over at me, at the ring on my finger and my grip on the dog’s leash, then laid a hand over mine. “I really am sorry. Did you guys have any children?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  But it had been in the plans. I’d finally relented, thinking that maybe that was what I needed to do to keep my husband home at night, that if I had a baby, with Dave at my side, I’d
get over my resistance to being a parent.

  I’d also thought a baby might restore the spark that seemed to have gone out between us, maybe even restore the zing that had deserted me, compounded by a husband who had grown more distant each year, physically and emotionally. But I’d had the feeling, even as we bought the house and made plans for a fence and a nursery, that something was slipping out of my fingers and if I didn’t grab it back, it would be gone forever. When I had agreed to the idea of a baby, that feeling of loss had passed temporarily and for a while, things between us had been almost like old times.

  Almost.

  Working with Harvey in the ring had given me a reprieve from my self-blame. Maybe, with Dave, it had been less about a baby and more about me finding my true self.

  Either way, I wasn’t going to go back to being exactly the way I had been before. For once, that thought didn’t terrify me.

  “Anyway,” the woman said, “we’re all glad to see Harvey staying in Dave’s family. He’s such a part of the dog community.” She bent down and patted the dog, who showed about as much response as a fence post. “We love ya, Harv.”

  With a final sympathetic touch to my shoulder, the woman rose, wished me well, then went off, with Her Highland Warrior trotting along at her side, clearly not affected by his romance novel nomenclature.

  I rose and crossed to the windows, just as the show ended and people streamed out of the hall’s doors.

  Had Dave been about to give it all up, for me? Or did he have other plans in mind? And when I’d delayed the promise I’d made him, again and again, had that been what drove him back into Susan’s arms?

  Or was I trying to create shapes out of clouds that were thin and wispy? Trying to frame a picture of a marriage that was still too blurry around the edges to discern any details?

  “What do you think, Harvey?” I asked, bending down to the dog. “You have any opinions on what the heck Dave was thinking?”

  Poor Harvey’s face was as droopy as a limp piece of celery. Maybe he already knew Dave had died. Maybe he’d understood my conversation with the woman.

  I unclipped his leash, thinking if I held him, this heavy sadness would lighten. But the second the silver clip slipped out of the circular connection, Harvey bolted, his nails scrabbling against the carpet for purchase, propelling him forward, a tiny furry rocket. He sniffed the air, a canine pinball pinging off the walls, down the hall, back again, searching.

  “Harvey!” I cried, taking off after him. The new high heels I’d bought for the show slid against the carpet, catching my step.

  The thick crowd of chattering contestants and their pets separated me from the terrier, whose wily body slipped easily under and between the canine and human legs. He was out of sight before I could make my way to the outside perimeter of the people mass. I pushed by a man in a dark suit, still calling Harvey’s name, then stopped short.

  In the far corner of the room, a door to the outside had been left open. Maybe to release some of the heat in the convention hall. Or maybe left propped open by a security guard sneaking a smoke break. Bright sunshine streamed in across the crimson carpet, blazing a golden path to freedom.

  “Harvey!” The word fell on deaf dog ears.

  Harvey was gone.

  seventeen

  I bent under shrubbery and crawled behind the Dumpsters of the Grand Resort Hotel, ignoring the stench of yesterday’s dinner remains, searching for a dog my husband had dumped on me in the afterlife and who had become a weird part of me, of my family. As I did, I could practically hear Patsy Cline singing in my ear, ramping up her chorus.

  I was crazy; this whole thing was crazy.

  But damn it all, I still loved the man. He’d loved the dog, and other than Susan and Annie, Harvey was the last living tie to Dave. I had no intention of keeping Susan or making a living memorial out of Annie.

  But Harvey…

  Despite everything, the silly terrier had wormed his way into my heart and suddenly, I wanted him back, wanted to tell him I was proud of him. To thank him for helping me find another side of myself, a side I hadn’t even known existed. I wasn’t about to run off to Hollywood for a new career, but I was going to live differently when I got home.

  And most of all, I wanted to tell Harvey that Dave, if bigamists made it into heaven, was proud, too.

  I slithered out from behind a rhododendron, then stopped in the middle of the full, busy parking lot, shaded my eyes and scanned the surrounding area. Congested with shops and hotels, cars and people, it made finding Harvey impossible.

  I worried that someone would kidnap him. My heart sank in my chest, tight with panic. Harvey was nowhere to be found.

  “Dave,” I said to the blue expanse of sky, “why couldn’t you have gotten a German shepherd? A malamute? Anything bigger than a bread box.”

  All I got for an answer was a horn beeping at my butt. I wheeled around and faced an elderly woman with a white-knuckled grip on her Mazda’s steering wheel, glaring at me and muttering things I was sure I didn’t want to hear out of a grandmother’s mouth.

  I stepped to the side and Grandma zipped by me with a whoosh of smoggy air. I choked and coughed, my eyes watering.

  Matt’s words came back to me, the story of how Harvey had happened into Dave’s life. Had the dog been triggered to run away the first time because his owner had died? Or because his first owner had been the dysfunctional kind who forgot to feed Harvey and saw him more as ornamentation than pet?

  Or had Harvey run away that time, and this time, because he’d been paired with a completely inept dog-show stand-in?

  I’d been able to run through Harvey’s routine, get him to do his tricks, but clearly, I had yet to find a way to connect with him. To make him want to come when I called, not just do it for the Beggin’ Strips.

  Susan hurried across the parking lot toward me in a little skip step, the kind made possible by three-inch heels. “Did you find him?”

  “No. He’s so small. He could be anywhere.” Guilt washed over me. “What if someone took him?”

  “You know Harvey. He’s smart. He’d never leave with someone else. Besides, I think he’s looking for Dave.” Susan drew up beside me, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “What do we do now?”

  I wheeled around and faced her. “I don’t know, Susan,” I said, frustrated more with myself and my inability to find the dog than with her. “I don’t know how a dog thinks. I thought I did, but I was wrong.” Right then, I was through with being in charge, with trying to reassemble a jigsaw puzzle that got messier by the minute. “You make the plan, Susan. Apparently, you knew my husband better than I did.”

  I stalked off, anger exploding in my chest like a cheap fireworks display. I blew past Matt, ignoring the question in his eyes, kept walking beyond Vinny, the gathered crowd of speculating attendees, ignoring them all. I headed into the hotel and straight for the bar, the only solution I could think of right now.

  “A rum and Coke. Don’t bother with the Coke.”

  The bartender arched a brow but didn’t say anything. He did as I asked, pouring some Captain Morgan into a squat tumbler of ice, then floating a twist of lime on the top.

  I took a gulp, squinted against the burn of alcohol. I took another drink, squinted a little less. A third, and no squint at all.

  I sank onto a stool and sipped at the remaining rum. A sense of peace stole over me, yet, even as it did, I knew it was temporary, brought on by the artificial blanket of alcohol.

  That’s what I got for leaving my afghan at home.

  “There you are.” Susan slipped onto the stool beside me and ordered the Coke that was missing from my drink.

  I sighed. “Sorry for taking all that out on you. We both lost in this deal.”

  Susan waved a hand. “Forget it. You’re entitled to a little meltdown.”

  I gave her a weak smile. “A little Dog-Gone-Good frustration.”

  She smiled back. “Yeah.”

  “To Dave,” I s
aid, raising the glass and clinking it against hers. “And to the mess he left behind.”

  “Yeah.” She knocked back some Coke, slid it over to the bartender and asked him to add some rum. “Seems like a good idea right now.”

  We drank, neither of us saying anything for a while. “We need to find Harvey,” Susan said.

  “I agree.” A sigh slipped past my lips. “But unless you have dog ESP, I can’t even begin to think of where he went.”

  Susan shrugged. “Why not think like a dog?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re starting to sound like my sister.”

  “I’m serious. If you were Harvey, where would you go?”

  “I don’t know, Susan,” I said, draining the last of the rum from the glass, and signaling to the bartender to get me another. “The pound? A PetSmart store? I have no idea. I’ve never owned a dog, I’m not a dog, I can’t think like one.”

  “So you’re just going to give up?”

  I spun on the stool to face her. “Right now, Susan, I am not up to handling this. Why can’t you crawl around in the shrubbery and find him?”

  “Because…I just can’t. I’m not like you, Penny.” She ran a finger along the rim of her glass, not meeting my eyes. “I can’t just go out there and take over.”

  “Why not? I did it. You think I really wanted to leave my couch and trek halfway down the Eastern seaboard with my dead husband’s secret wife and his stage dog? I did it because I knew if I didn’t, I’d never know the truth. A truth which, quite frankly, sucks.”

  “You can handle things like that. I can’t.”

  “But you’re sitting right beside me. You went on this trip with me. If I can do this, then so can you,” I said, softer now.

  “Yeah, but I did it with you. Those are the operative words.” She took a sip of her drink, toyed with the lime twist. “I’m not the kind of woman who takes the bull by the horns. Heck, I don’t even come anywhere near the bull.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I looked at her, still all neat and pretty in a knee-length black cotton dress, despite the long day. She looked as if she had just stepped off the cover of Vogue, not as if she’d been arguing with her husband’s primary wife. “You seem so…well-adjusted to this whole thing. Here I am, a blubbering mess half the time and you’re all sunny-side up.”