“What is it?” Derrick asks as his sneakers slap on the cement behind me.
I’m already in Daisy’s cage and kneeling on the fresh newspaper. Only the newspaper isn’t dry. There’s a huge straw-colored puddle dripping from Daisy’s doggie bed where she’s shivering and panting. “Her water broke!”
Derrick gasps. “Are you saying she’s going to – ?”
“Yup. Daisy’s going to have her pups.”
When he saw her face, he knew that she was the lady of his love. (Jacobs)
“Should we call a vet?” Derrick asks, kneeling beside me.
“No.” I glance down at my cell phone, noting the time and calculating that the first pup should arrive within a half hour. I consider calling Blake but hate to interrupt his already busy day when I can deal with this on my own. It’s not like I haven’t seen litters born before.
“I’ve never seen an animal born,” Derrick says with marvel in his voice. “The closest was finding a nest of mice in a kitchen drawer, which didn’t turn out well for the mice.”
“Do you get sick at the sight of blood?” I ask, hoping he’s not a puker.
“No. Exactly how bloody will this get?”
“Not much.” I shrug. “Mostly we just wait and watch and let nature take its course. Daisy will do all the hard work.”
“Her stomach looks so big for a little dog. Are you sure you don’t need a vet?”
I hesitate then answer honestly. “I’m never sure, but over ninety-eight percent of dogs deliver their puppies with no problems. I’m usually on top of it days in advance, taking the dog’s temperature and watching the cervix for dilation, but Daisy is a week early and things have been crazy around here.”
“Crazy?” He glances around curiously. “Except for Daisy, everything looks calm enough.”
“Since Toffee performed last night, lots of people are buying Queen Bees. I just hope none of them show up now.” I’m patting Daisy’s damp fur as I talk, watching her shiver and strain. She’s really close, and I realize I’m holding my breath.
“What can I do to help?” Derrick asks with a helpless flip of his hands.
“Talk to me. Tell me about yesterday. You said you tried to find me.”
“Yeah. I talked to the Talent-Mania organizer and learned your full name but not your address. So I called Beatrice to find out, only she didn’t answer.”
I think back, wondering if that was when Beatrice was at my house. While gently stroking Daisy’s fur, I ask him what happened next.
“A Google search, only that was a big nothing, too. The closest was an 87-year-old Ashlee living in Alaska. So, I did the only thing I could think of.”
“Relax, Daisy,” I say in a calming voice as she spins in a frantic circle, panting heavily. She stops moving and nips at her blanket, then drags it to a dry corner of her bed.
“What’s she doing?” Derrick asks, alarmed.
“Making a nest.” My heartbeat slows back to normal. “Good girl, Daisy,” I say softly as she plops on the blanket. “I’m here for you. It’ll be okay.”
Derrick leans over, pats her gently, and then looks back at me. “Everything’s okay with her, isn’t it?”
“She’s fine. All we can do is wait. Go on. Finish your story.”
“Where was I?” He sits cross-legged beside me. “Oh yeah, since I didn’t know how to find you, I got in my car and drove back to where we first met.”
“Stone Face Fountain?”
He nods.
“You weren’t there, so I kept driving until I ended up at Shakespeare’s Theater, which was just starting. I figured someone there would know where you lived, and I didn’t have anything else to do, so I took a seat and watched.”
I’m hunched over Daisy, patting her fur and whispering encouragements, but I pause to ask, “What was the play?”
“The Carver’s Son, about a lonely man who carves a son out of wood.”
“A retelling of Pinocchio,” I guess.
“Yeah, although with the birds and goats at the beginning I didn’t catch on right away. It was amazing how the wooden boy seemed to spring up like he was alive. I didn’t feel like I was just watching, but like I was the boy and suddenly alive. I don’t know how Shakespeare does it.”
“No one does, and that’s what makes it so fun.” Daisy is pushing hard, very close now, but I don’t want Derrick to stop talking. “Then what did you do?”
He glances uneasily at Daisy before answering. “Shakespeare disappeared after he took his finale bow. Since I couldn’t talk to him, I asked some of the kids if they knew you. They all did, and they think you’re cool. But no one knew your last name. One girl said you lived in a green house with dogs, but that wasn’t enough to go on. So, I went to – ”
“It’s coming!” I cry out as I move back to give Daisy space. I’ve seen puppies born many times, but it’s always amazing when suddenly whoosh! A dark blob of puppy in a jelly-like sack slips out onto the blanket.
“That’s a puppy?” Derrick asks.
“Daisy will tear away the sac and lick the puppy clean now,” I say and watch expectantly. But instead of turning to attend her puppy, Daisy slumps on the nest like she’s going to take a nap. I wait a few seconds, hoping her mom instinct will kick in, but she’s not doing anything.
“Daisy! Get busy!” I order, carefully nudging the puppy near her mouth. She blinks up at me with liquid gold eyes but does nothing. I’m cursing myself for assuming this would be an easy delivery and not calling Blake.
Derrick asks what’s wrong, but there’s no time for talking now. If the puppy isn’t released from the sac, it could die. I gently tear open the sac with my fingers and clear fluid from the pup’s nose and mouth. The tiny pup wiggles, and I’m glad to count four legs, two ears, and one tail.
“Can I help?” Derrick is practically begging, and I know he’s frustrated sitting by without doing anything.
“My phone. On the floor.” I’m rubbing the pup now to stimulate breathing, my own breaths coming out ragged. “Blake. My dad. Call him.”
My gaze never wavers from the tiny dark pup, and now I can see its closed eyes and shiny nose. The rubbing is working because his (or her?) stomach rises and falls with breath. Daisy is showing interest now, too, nudging the pup and pushing my hand away until her rough tongue is licking the sac away. The pup wiggles closer to its mom.
“Whew!” I exclaim, my hands still shaking.
I look over at Derrick, who is setting the phone back down, and he nods at me. “Your dad is on his way.”
“Thanks,” I say.
I turn back to Daisy, relieved to see the pup nursing.
“What’s Daisy chewing?” Derrick asks, pointing to a dark slimy blob hanging from Daisy’s mouth.
“Afterbirth…yum,” I say with a wicked grin. “You should try it sometime.”
“I’ll pass. So, is she done now?”
“Nope, from the size of her belly she has at least one more pup. Maybe two. Queen Bees have small litters, usually two to four pups, not like large dogs that have huge litters.”
“Pete came from a litter of thirteen pups.” Derrick pushes a squeaky dog toy out of the way as he scoots near me. “I chose him because he was the smallest.”
“Pete’s the runt of his litter? Hard to believe.”
“Real life gets weird; that’s for sure,” he says, and I notice how close he’s sitting beside me. I long to inch closer so our legs touch then reach out and curl my fingers in his hand.
“Finish your story,” I tell him. “We have ten or twenty minutes before the next pup. Where did you go after Shakespeare’s Theater?”
He taps his chin with his fingers, thinking. “Well, I drove past the park where we watched frog races, but it was empty. So, I headed over to Swap Market. I was sure someone there would know your address. This couple I asked knew who you were, but the wife insisted you lived on Maple and the husband swore it was Elm.”
“Birch Street,” I say.
“Yeah, th
at’s what the kid – or maybe a short man – told me. But not until I paid him two swap-its.”
“How did you get swap-its?”
“I don’t sing or dance or train dogs, but there are things few people know about my family.” He lowers his voice like he’s divulging royal secrets. “While my dad comes from a long line of politicians on his father’s side, no one ever talks about his great-grandmother.”
“Was she a murderer or a bank robber?”
“My father would prefer that.” His brown eyes twinkle. “Great-Great Grandma was the bearded lady in a traveling circus.”
“A beard?” My voice rises, startling Daisy, who is starting to pant again.
“A fake beard, but it was made from real hair. When it attracted fleas she threw it out and switched to a magic act and did sleight-of-hand tricks. When I was a kid, I wanted to be in a circus, too. I tried to grow a beard, but as you can see I still don’t have one.” He pats his smooth cheeks. “I ordered a magic kit and taught myself basic tricks. That’s how I earned swap-it’s.”
“You did?” I exclaim, disbelieving.
He nods proudly. “I bent pencils like they were rubber, and made coins disappear then reappear in pockets and behind ears. The kids loved it.”
“I would have loved it, too,” I say softly.
He gives me a thoughtful look then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a nickel. “Now you see it.” He waves it in front of my face with one hand and snaps his fingers with the other. “And now you don’t.” He finishes with both of his hands palms out to show they’re empty. Before I can ask where the nickel went, he reaches out for my hair, my skin tingling as his fingers brush across my neck. Then he whisks his hand back to show the shiny nickel.
I’m staring, but it’s not the coin I’m focused on. It’s Derrick. My skin still rushes with heat from his light touch. He stops moving, catching my gaze in a serious expression. I’d give anything to know if he’s thinking about me because all I’m thinking is about how funny and sweet and wonderful he is. But I hold back, a sentry of my own feelings.
“So you found out my address, but you didn’t come over,” I say accusingly, gathering up my pride like a shield.
“I was going to until I remembered your bag was still in my bedroom.” He points to the bag he brought to me. “I drove home, planning to get the bag and bring it to you, only I found Beatrice waiting for me. I didn’t want to see or talk to her again after she sabotaged your act. I was ready to really lay into her until she told me she’d just come from your house. I didn’t believe her and asked her to prove it by telling me your address.”
“Which she knew because she’d just left my house,” I murmur.
“She said she went there to apologize for her mistake with your remote, but she walked in on you making out with your boyfriend.”
“That’s a total lie!” I exclaim then lower my voice so I don’t disturb Daisy and her new pup. “There’s no boyfriend.”
“I didn’t think so, but she can be convincing.” His face reddens, and he glances down. “I didn’t want to believe her, but if she was right, it would be awkward if I went to your house. I needed time to think.”
“Why didn’t you just return my call?”
“It sounds stupid, but I couldn’t find my cell phone. I thought I left it in my car, but it wasn’t there. When I was getting ready for bed, I heard beeping and found the phone beneath my pillow. No idea how it got there. When I powered it on, a face flashed on the screen – the same young looking guy who told me your address. Weird, huh?”
“Weirdness happens,” I say with a smile.
“Anyway, by then it was midnight. Too late to call you.”
I open my mouth to tell him that it’s never too late, but when I glance down at Daisy, she’s trembling and straining.
“Another one!” Derrick cries.
A door bangs. I look up to see my dad entering the kennels. I shout out to him and he rushes over, kneeling down beside us. “How’s she doing?”
“Okay, I think.” I’m biting my lip and watching nervously but relieved now that Blake’s here.
Seconds later, puppy number two slips out smoothly, and Daisy immediately chews off the sac and licks the pup like she’s done this many times before. Within minutes, two adorable pups are nursing on their mom. And soon another pup joins them. Two females and one male. Daisy looks so content as she nurses her three adorable pups.
“This is cause for celebration,” Blake says, leading us into the house. We’re sitting at the table when I catch him giving Derrick a curious look, and I realize I haven’t introduced them. I quickly do it. If Blake is surprised to find Mayor King’s son at our house, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he says today has been so amazing we should have a party tonight, and he’ll bring Chinese food and ask his assistant, Claire, to join us. He suggests asking Rory then slyly looks over at Derrick and says he’s welcome to join us, too.
“I’d like that,” Derrick says, and the way he’s looking at me gives me a warm, delicious feeling.
Blake hurries back to Bow-Wow Boutique, and it’s just Derrick and me in the kitchen. There’s this silence, no one speaking as we watch each other.
“So, it’s just us,” I finally say, feeling a little awkward but a lot happy.
“Just us,” Derrick echoes, smiling.
This is what I’ve been waiting for, the two of us alone (except for Toffee and Cretin curled by our feet) without any interruptions. Yet my heart flutters like a tiny bird that suddenly has wings but doesn’t know how to fly yet. I can’t think of what to say. I stand up abruptly from the table and push my chair away. “We should go check on the pups.”
“Your dad said the dogs are fine.”
“I know they are. It’s just that…”
“What?”
“I’m not so sure about myself.” I lean against the back of the chair, my knuckles pale. “Why did you really come here?”
“To see you.” He says this so simply and honestly that I feel buoyant.
“What about Beatrice?”
“Beatrice who?” He slices his hands through the air in a cutting gesture. “I mean it. And what about you? No more running away from me.”
“I promise,” I say with a crisscross of my hands over my chest.
“There’s only one thing left to do.” Standing from his chair, he pushes his sandy-brown hair from his brown eyes. When he takes a step toward me, I don’t run away. I meet him halfway.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a piece of paper. I recognize it immediately. “Here, this is for you.” He holds out a swap-it.
“I don’t have anything to trade.”
“But you do.” His hand lifts to touch my hair then gently trails a finger along my cheek bone and down to my mouth.
I lift my lips for our first kiss.
And it’s magic.
about author
Linda Joy Singleton
When Linda Joy Singleton was young, she enjoyed visiting a dog kennel with her best friend Lori. This memory plus her love for writing magical mysteries inspired the “Canine Cinderella” twist in NEVER BEEN TEXTED. When Linda isn’t writing, she loves walking, playing on her iPad, cuddling her two cats and her tiny dog Lucy, taking trips with her husband David, playing with her grandkids, and of course, reading.
Get writing tips, free stories and the latest news at www.LindaJoySingleton.com.
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