Reluctant Witness

by Barton, Sara M.

  “What in the world has gotten into you?” he demanded, exasperated. I tried to speak, but my voice let me down. What could I say? I felt a hand on my shoulder. “I come all this way to give you a dog and you act like I insulted you! If you don’t like the dog, we’ll find you another. I just want you to be happy.”

  “What?” I turned to him, confused. “That’s my dog?”

  Shock registered on his face as he stood there watching me, and I realized he hadn’t expected to see me blubbering like a school girl. Suddenly, his fingers were gently wiping my tears.

  “Of course it is. Whose did you think it was? Jojo told me how miserable you’ve been since Kary moved out. I just wanted you to have a pup of your own,” he explained, his tone softening. “Why are you crying?”

  “I can keep him? You won’t take him back?” Desperation welled up in me as I realized there was a chance I might keep the little Yorkie. What did I have to do to get him?

  “If he’s the right dog for you, you can.”

  “And he’ll stay with me forever? No one will take him away, no matter what happens?” I sought reassurance from the man whose face was just inches from my own. I could see the dark brown flecks in his irises. I longed to touch his cheek, to feel his skin against my hand. As the powerful wave of desire rose up in me, it was almost too great for my limited strength to handle. I felt powerless.

  “I promise. He’s yours, if you want him.”

  “I do!” I replied, afraid to acknowledge how deeply I ached for the chance to have that little pup. It was too close to admitting how much I wanted Jeff.

  “I just want you to be happy, Marigold,” he told me again. The tension drained from his face as he gave me a sincere smile. “Are we good?”

  Words unexpectedly failed me while I stood there. No one had ever given me such a gift. Without thinking, I launched myself at Jeff, wrapping my arms around his neck with such enthusiasm, we were both surprised.

  “Whoa! What’s all this?” he wanted to know as I clung to him. I felt his hands on my waist and longed for them to remain there. They did.

  “Thank you!” I kissed his cheek. “Oh...just thank you!”

  As I reluctantly pulled away from him, our eyes met again and I saw it once more, that tiny flicker of want that burned in both of us. It hadn’t been my imagination. It was there and it was real. What’s more, I knew he recognized it too.

  A discreet cough interrupted the moment, a warning to us that the others had entered the living room. Rocky and Nancy stood watching us. For a moment, I almost thought they were amused by our awkward effort to break our embrace. Jeff and I stepped apart from each other, and as we did, I took the opportunity to grab a handful of tissues from the box on the end table. I dabbed at my eyes, hurriedly drying the tears.

  “Everything okay?” Rocky wanted to know.

  “Yes,” I laughed, feeling foolish. “Where is he?”

  “Here he is, Marigold,” Nancy told me, holding out the wriggling dog. “He’s a cutie.”

  “Hello, boy. How are you?” I took him in my arms and hugged him, rewarded by a lick of that tiny tongue on my cheek.

  “She didn’t realize the dog was for her.” Jeff explained to the others as he sat down on the sofa. Nancy joined him.

  “Looks like Jojo called this one right,” Rocky laughed, perching on the arm of the chair opposite, his eyes moving from me to Jeff and back again. “Looks like a bad case of puppy love.”

  I sat cross-legged on the floor, releasing the tiny Yorkshire terrier, so he could explore his new surroundings. Jeff reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of dog treats.

  “Try these,” he suggested, rolling them onto my hand. “He’s crazy about them.”

  “Where’d he come from?” Nancy wanted to know.

  “I’ve got an animal trainer I use for the show. I told him I needed a nice dog in need of a good home. One of the breeders had this little guy because the elderly owner passed away. He’s been neutered, had his teeth cleaned, got his shots, and even knows how to walk on a leash. He’ll be four this year. I’ve got all the vet records for you. What are you going to name him?”

  I glanced down at dog as he crawled back into my lap. He was wearing an old collar with a tag that read “Mirabel”, obviously a hand-me-down. The leash, too, had seen better days. “Not Mirabel.”

  “Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “Perhaps I should explain. I borrowed those because I thought you’d want to choose your own dog accessories.”

  “What’s he called now?” I wanted to know.

  “His official name on his AKC registration is Randy’s Little Peanut Delight, but his owner usually just called him Goober.”

  “Goober? Not very dignified, is it?” I sighed, as the little dog gave me his paw. “You need a better name. Any ideas?”

  I looked up expectantly at Nancy. She thought for a moment. “What about Peanut?”

  “That makes me think of that ventriloquist’s dummy,” I giggled.

  “Jeff Dunham? I love that guy!” Rocky shook his head.

  Nancy tried again. “What about Reese? You know, like the peanut butter cup.”

  “Snickers,” Rocky suggested.

  “Jif, or maybe Skippy,” Nancy added to the list, staying with the peanut theme. “Skippy’s a cute dog name.”

  “Hmm....” I wasn’t convinced. “I don’t want to confuse him with a drastic change.”

  “What about Cooper?” Jeff offered. When I glanced up, I saw him watching me intently with those dark brown eyes of his and suddenly a warm flush rose up in me. It was impossible to ignore the excitement I felt. Every cell of my body seemed to come alive at the nearness of him.

  “Oh, as in Gary Cooper? What a hunk!” Nancy sighed.

  “Or Cooperstown,” Rocky countered.

  “No, as in Mini Cooper, because he’s a compact little guy.”

  “I love it!” I crowed. “Cooper it is!”

  The newly named Cooper promptly licked my hand, a sure sign we were off to a good start, and then curled up, his head on my knee.

  “Poor guy could probably use a nap,” Jeff suggested. “He’s had a lot of excitement today.”

  “Does he have a crate?” I wondered. “And what about his food? What does he eat?”

  “I have some of Coop’s food with me, but we should get more,” Jeff replied. “Let’s make a run to the pet store now and pick up whatever he needs.”

  “You don’t mind?” I asked. He shook his head and smiled at me, bending down to pat Cooper on the head.

  “It would be my pleasure. Rocky, do you mind if I borrow your SUV?”

  I caught Nancy poking Rocky in the side and gave her a look. She responded with a wink.

  “No problem, boss. I’ll just go down with you and grab the bags.”

  Ten minutes later, we were on our way, headed down A1A towards Flagler Beach. Cooper lay in my lap and, using my arm as a pillow, dozed as Jeff drove.

  “Do you know the area?” I asked, surprised that Jeff didn’t seem to need directions. “Or did you check a map before you arrived?”

  “Might be a little of both,” he smiled, his eyes still on the road.

  “You’ve been to Palm Coast before?” I inquired, curious.

  “I have.” That two-word response went nowhere. I tried again, wanting to keep the conversation in play.

  “Are you a dog person, like your brothers?”

  “My black Lab, Granger, died two years ago at the ripe old age of eleven. He was a lot more than just a dog to me. He was my therapy dog when I was recovering from my accident, specially trained to assist me.”

  “I’m sorry, Jeff.”

  “No need for you to be sorry, Marigold. I’m sure I’ll eventually get around to finding myself another dog one of these days.” He glanced over at me and smiled. “Maybe when my home is finally finished. Now that I’ve recovered sufficiently, I won’t need a working dog.”

  “We really don’t know much about each other yet, do we?�
�� As I said that, I realized how presumptuous it sounded, as if I expected to move into Jeff’s life permanently. I didn’t want to jump the gun. “I mean that I...um....”

  “Relax. I know what you meant and it’s true. You’ve lived a life I know little about and the same is true of me.”

  “I just want you to know I really appreciate all the things you and everyone else are doing for me. I...I don’t know what I’d have done if the Cornwall brothers hadn’t come along.”

  “Hey, I’m always in the market for a good plot line,” he answered casually, and I suddenly found myself blushing at the thought that I was to be a character in his new novel. “Besides, it’s not often I meet a real-life heroine.”

  “Heroine?”

  “You don’t think you fit the description, Marigold?”

  “Not really. The only brave thing I’ve ever done is to keep going. Most of the time I just want to curl up in a ball and disappear. The world can be a very scary place.”

  “It can indeed,” he told me, flipping on his indicator light and turning west on Highway 100. “It seems to me you’ve had more than your share of scary adventures. Maybe it’s time you got to have some fun.”

  “Fun would be nice,” I nodded wistfully. “I like the sound of that.”

  “Then fun you shall have.”

  He parked the SUV in a spot fifty feet from the door of the store. Traffic was heavy in the parking lot, so I carried Cooper in my arms. Once inside, I set the tiny terrier down and let him explore.

  “Where shall we start?” Jeff asked. He grabbed a carriage from the collection. “Or should we just wander?”

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  “Let’s wander. That way, Cooper gets his exercise in cool comfortable surroundings.”

  We poked around the aisles at the local PetSmart, looking for the items we needed, in no rush to get back to Cinnamon Beach. Jeff paused in front of a fish tank, admiring a pair of fancy goldfish.

  “You like tropical fish?” I asked him, hoping to learn more about him.

  “Absolutely. I used to dive in my younger days. There’s nothing like it when you’re out at a reef and you see all the different kinds of fish swimming around. Fish tanks are the next best thing.”

  “Why don’t you get one for the condo? Not some little thing that just sits on a table, but a real one that allows the fish plenty of freedom.”

  “Never considered that,” he told me. “It might be nice for my office.”

  “Can I help you find something?” The older woman in the signature polo shirt gave us a bright smile. “Or answer your questions about tropical fish?”

  We chatted with her for a while, discussing the different types of fish we might use in a large tank. I had no idea that ordinary goldfish normally grow to about ten inches when given the proper conditions. By the time we were done, Jeff was excited at the prospect of having an underwater habitat in his office.

  “You know, Marigold, this could really be interesting.”

  “If you really like the idea, maybe we could incorporate the tank in a feature wall. We’d have to see who’s available in the Atlanta area to construct it....” I stopped myself abruptly. I was too wrapped up in the idea that I would be around to see the results. The sad reality was I was probably going to have to go back on the road at some point. It was only a matter of time before I had to say goodbye to Jeff. I consoled myself with the thought that at least I wouldn’t be alone. I had Cooper now to keep me company.

  “That’s a great idea. I like that,” he replied, not seeming to notice my hesitation. I felt his hand on my elbow and silently begged him not to pull away from me. He must have heard my plea, because he never let go of my arm, much to my delight. “Let’s head over to the pooch department and find some toys for Cooper.”

  We walked our way through the wall of seemingly endless choices, picking out a selection of noisy squeakers and teeth chews. Jeff seemed to be having as much fun as I was.

  “By the way, Marigold, I got a license for the dog under his formal name, Randy’s Little Peanut Delight, using my Buckhead address in Atlanta. I’m on the record as the owner. If he gets lost, folks will be able to return him to me. I’ll probably lie and tell people you stole my dog, just so I have a plausible explanation of how you and I are connected, but I promise I’ll figure out a way to get Cooper back to you.”

  “It sounds like you thought of just about everything.”

  “I try,” he grinned. “What do you say, boy? When in Florida, do as the Floridians do?”

  In one hand, he held a stuffed pink flamingo, in the other, a stuffed alligator. He shook them both at Cooper, who immediately decided to snatch one of the flamingo’s dangling legs in his tiny mouth. “It looks like he’s a bird dog.”

  “It seems so,” I told Jeff, laughing. Cooper proudly trotted beside us with his prize, tags dangling.

  We spent another twenty minutes loading up the shopping cart and then we checked out. The drive back to the resort passed quickly in pleasant conversation. We pulled into a parking space in front of the condo. Cooper wore his new red harness, with the dog bone name tag we engraved for him.

  “Come on. Let’s get everything upstairs.”

  We made two trips to the first floor vestibule, carrying bags of dog paraphernalia, and when we had everything all together, we loaded it into the elevator for the trip to the top floor. There was no one in the condo when we arrived.

  “Maybe they went to the beach,” Jeff guessed.

  “At this time of day? More like the pool,” I laughed. It turned out we were both wrong.

  “Hello, hello!” Nancy called to us, coming through the door. “Are you two decent?”

  Jeff shook his head at that. “Typical chop-busting female cop. You can tell she’s worked with guys for too long, can’t you? She just loves to poke the bear, just for the fun of seeing him get grizzly.”

  “Yes, but she grows on you, doesn’t she?” I laughed. “And if something happened, I wouldn’t worry about her being able to handle it.”

  “Handle what?” Nancy wanted to know. “Did you kids get everything you need for the little guy?”

  “We did. What were you guys doing while we were gone?”

  “We moved Tom to the condo on the fifth floor, so you and Rocky can have the one down the hall, Jeff.”

  “Good idea,” he replied.

  “So....” Nancy sat herself down on the sofa like the proverbial cat watching a pair of canaries.

  “What are we doing for lunch?” Jeff wanted to know.

  “I’ve got chicken salad for sandwiches in the fridge,” I informed him, “and fruit salad.”

  “You don’t really want to play chef, do you? We could go out or call for takeout.”

  “I don’t mind.” I stood up. “It won’t take me long.”

  “Can I give you a word of advice, Jeff? Let her do her thing in the kitchen. The woman can cook!”

  Half an hour later, we sat around the dining table on the covered balcony, swapping stories and watching the beachgoers below. Cooper was familiarizing himself with his new home, examining every corner, every nook he found. When he was done, he came back to Jeff and pawed his leg, wanting to be picked up. I saw Jeff start to reach down, but then he stopped himself, gazing up in my direction.

  “It’s fine if you pick him up,” I laughed. “I don’t mind.”

  “We sort of bonded while he was staying with me,” the embarrassed man tried to explain as he settled the dog on his lap. “Yes, I can see you’re happy, boy.”

  “How would you like a little sweet treat?” I offered the guests. “It won’t take me a moment.”

  I grabbed the empty plates and headed into the kitchen. After loading the dishwasher, I chopped a couple of papayas, tossed the chunks into the blender with some vanilla ice cream and a little crème de cassis in the blender, and whirled it around until it was smooth. I poured the mixture into martini glasses and carried them out to the group on the balcony.


  “Mmm...yummy,” Nancy announced, sipping hers. “I told you she was a good chef. It’s every bit as good as my mama’s cooking.”

  “This is refreshing.” Tom tipped his glass in my direction.

  “Just don’t work her too hard,” Jeff jovially admonished the others. “She’s supposed to be having fun.”

  “Oh, I am,” I grinned, delighted. “It’s nice to be appreciated.”

  “You are, believe me,” Terry laughed, finishing the last of the papaya shake in his glass.

  Tom and Terry took Jeff and Rocky off for a meeting down the hall shortly after that. Nancy and I got the kitchen cleaned up and then went back out to the covered patio.

  She read the files Tom had gotten from one of his sources earlier in the day, looking for some new needle in the haystack. I worked on the plans for Jeff’s condo. Cooper snoozed in his new dog bed in a quiet corner.

  About an hour later, Cooper came over to me as I sat at the table, working on my laptop. I reached my hand down and rubbed his ear.

  “Who’s a good boy?” I asked. Nancy put down a blue folder and stretched. The little dog trotted over to her, curious about the odd noise.

  “What do you think about a walk, Cooper? We can take the nice lady with us,” she asked.

  “I assume you mean me,” I laughed, shutting down my laptop before pushing out my chair.

  “I do.”

  We drove to the parking lot of the Herschel King Park and walked the shaded trail by the Intracoastal Waterway. The minute I set him down on the ground, the Yorkie got busy, exploring every bush, tree, and rock he came upon on the journey.

  Cooper turned out to be a good hiking dog. I attributed that to many hours of walking with his previous owner. He was fairly confident as people came and went, but I noticed he tended to shy away from other dogs; I was prepared for it when he took exception to a rather hefty, overly friendly bulldog, steering him away from the very determined canine, whose owner was too busy chatting on her phone to reel in his leash.