by Greg Kincaid
“Good morning, Abbey,” Mary Ann greeted her warmly. “How are you? I was just thinking about the kids, with Christmas coming up before you know it. I wanted to get them a little something fun, but is there anything they need? Clothes?”
“That’s so nice of you, but…” Abbey took a deep breath. “Things aren’t so good. I’m afraid that’s why I’m calling.”
Mary Ann leaned against the old pine countertop in her kitchen to brace herself. She could hear Abbey’s anguished tone and prayed that there hadn’t been an accident or a serious illness. “What is it, honey? What happened?”
As if finally given permission, Abbey let the dam burst and sobbed her way through the last few months. The unemployment and financial strain. The drinking. The DUI. The abusive language. The hurtful words. Estrangement from A to Z. As she told her story, Abbey realized for the umpteenth time that she had lost all respect for the man she’d married, the man she’d once loved.
“Mrs. McCray, he’s not the Link you and I knew. He’s a mess. I just couldn’t live with it anymore. I could put up with most anything. You know. I’m not a quitter. When he stopped acting like a dad, as if the kids didn’t matter…” The sobbing returned, even heavier than before. She choked out her words. “That was my line, and he walked over it. I couldn’t tolerate that. I told him he had to leave.”
“For good?” she asked.
“I’ve called a lawyer. I’m done.”
“Oh, Abbey, I’m so sorry. For you. For Link. But most of all, for the children. I know they love you both.”
“Of course they love their father. But they don’t understand him. They keep asking me why he isn’t there for them, like he used to be. I can’t cover for him. I won’t. No more. He’s worn me out. He’s promised to quit the drinking a dozen times, but he won’t do it. How can I tell them that I asked their father to leave? How do I explain divorce? Will they hate me for this?” She again started to cry. “Mrs. McCray, I just don’t know what to do or how to tell the kids.”
“Abbey, dear, you need to drive on out here right now, and we’ll talk about it.” Mary Ann’s day was crowded, but everything else would have to be put on hold. She didn’t discount the importance of a shoulder to cry on. She was happy to give it.
“Now?” Abbey asked.
“Of course. Now. Things like this can’t wait.”
—
Abbey knelt in front of the sofa, thinking hard about the advice she’d gotten from Mrs. McCray. She took Keenan’s and Emily’s little hands in her own. “Do you know who Mommy and Daddy love the most in the whole wide world?” she asked.
Emily giggled. “Grandma and Grandpa Smith?”
Abbey felt tears well but fought them back. She tried to keep her voice reassuring. “No, Emily, Mommy and Daddy love you and Keenan, our children, more than anything else in the world.”
Keenan looked knowingly at his mother, seeing through it all, before asking, “Are you and Daddy getting divorced?”
The script she’d worked on so hard with Mrs. McCray, the script she’d practiced in front of the mirror, crumbled to pieces. Eventually she’d been planning to get to that part, but she’d wanted to bring them along. Now Keenan had hit fast-forward. Abbey drew her children into her arms and felt her throat knot up. “Yes,” she said with a catch in her voice. “Mommy and Daddy are getting a divorce.”
Keenan pulled away and stared at his mother stone-faced, with his arms folded across his chest. Emily, not entirely sure what the word meant but attuned to her mother’s sorrow, let her tears flow.
—
Late in the afternoon, after Mary Ann ended her latest, nearly daily, phone conversation with Abbey, she put on her coat, left the house, and walked to the barn, absorbed in thought. She knew that Abbey would be breaking the news to the kids any moment now. She entered the large box stall and snapped the lead line on Lady Luck’s halter. She’d bought her fifteen years ago when the quarter horse was still a young mare. The man who’d sold her had fallen on hard times back then. Lane Evans had hated to let her go, but he’d needed the cash when he moved from Crossing Trails to reestablish his farm-equipment business elsewhere. Now he still called every few years to check in. “Mary Ann McCray, how is that mare? You know, if she’s not working out, I’ll buy her back. I can put together a nice offer these days. She’d be perfect for my granddaughter.”
Mary Ann would sooner part with her left arm. The two of them were growing old together. “No, thanks, Lane, she’s working out great.”
Mary Ann led Lady Luck from the box stall and into the paddock, where the air was brisk. She carried with her a steel curry comb and used it vigorously. The horse splayed her legs slightly and leaned into the soothing pressure of the comb.
Mary Ann looked up at the early-evening sky. Like Lady Luck, it was dapple gray. Her horse could have walked through it unnoticed.
She’d stopped riding the horse three years ago. She was still a fine rider. That wasn’t it. Before, when a horse threw her, she would dust off her rear end and get back up, grinning. “Horse one, rider zero.”
Today a hard fall for a sixty-something woman could mean a broken hip and an expensive hospital stay. No thanks, she’d stay on the ground. She used the pick to clean Lady Luck’s hooves, one at a time. When the hooves were clean, Mary Ann carefully combed the mare’s mane, her mind going back and forth between Link and Abbey Robinson. She felt for them, and for the little ones, too. She’d rather be thrown off of Lady Luck than go through a divorce.
She reviewed the advice she’d given Abbey. Had she missed anything? She wondered if it was futile. Words would never soften the burden that would fall on the children. There wasn’t a long list of therapists in Cherokee County. She knew them all. Tomorrow she’d make some calls, get more guidance, see what kind of real help she could line up for them. She’d promised Abbey that much. Mary Ann was her friend, not her counselor. Not anymore. As for Link, he was a bit of a question mark. Mary Ann knew him only through Abbey, and she didn’t know what made him tick. Maybe George would have some ideas—if Link even wanted help.
She wondered if she should ask Keenan and Emily out to the farm on Saturday. She could put them on Lady Luck’s back and lead them around the corral. Maybe put a smile on a pair of serious little faces—she’d read the science about how children in pain seemed to respond so well to animals. She imagined how hard it would be for Link to have quality time with the children now, particularly because Abbey had reported he was staying in a cramped apartment, sleeping on an old friend’s sofa. Perhaps she could call Link and have him bring the children out.
Mary Ann knew a bit about equine therapy through some articles she’d read, but she didn’t know enough in terms of where to start. For it to work, she suspected that the children and the horse would have to bond. That would never happen with Lady Luck. She was aloof with most everyone but Mary Ann, and a bit self-centered. Even for a horse. Still, she wanted to do more. But what?
The weak December light had completely faded from the sky, signaling the end of another day. Being in a profession where you care for others was a calling that Mary Ann gladly answered, but right now she felt weary—at times work left her drained, exhausted, and wondering how many more years she could do it. She reached up and unhooked each of the cross ties from the eye hooks that were fastened to the oak support beams, led the horse back inside the barn, and put Lady Luck in her stall.
She walked to the other end of the barn, opened the door to the small attached shop, and stepped in. She stared at George for a moment. These days he often didn’t hear her approach. In so many little ways, they were getting older. George hated to talk about it, but he was moving poorly. The bad leg was worse, and the good leg wasn’t that good. Not anymore. He massaged the small of his back, turned, and finally noticed her. He smiled. As it always did, the affection she felt for him bubbled to the surface. Mary Ann stepped closer to her husband, wondering why was it that some relationships run out of gas and others�
�like theirs—seem to keep on going? She put her hand on his shoulder. “Ready for dinner?”
He set down an oily machine part, turned off the motor on the grinder, took off his gloves, and peered over the top of his glasses. “I’m always ready for dinner.”
The two of them walked toward the house together. Mary Ann stopped George halfway to the kitchen door and asked him a question that was pushing her for an answer: “Did you know that fifty percent of marriages end in divorce?”
“Approximately fifty percent of marriages involve a woman.”
“George, have you ever wondered why we made it when so many others fail?”
He rubbed his chin. “In our case that’s where the other fifty percent comes in.”
She tugged at the sleeve of his old denim jacket. “George, be serious. We’ve had our hard times, plenty of them. What kept us from divorce? Was it just chance?”
He shrugged and moved closer to her, ostensibly to keep warm. “I don’t think it’s just luck. We deserve more credit than that.” They walked along the fence line that framed the barnyard. George stopped, leaned against the top rail of the fence, and looked out over the back pastures. The tilled soil was the color of dark-roasted coffee. He shivered and looked up at the sky. The clouds were low and made the world seem smaller, confined. He turned to her. “I never stopped loving you.” He smiled, pointed to the full moon, clearly visible on the horizon. “Never stopped wanting to hold you either!”
Mary Ann swooned, taking full advantage of the moment. She whispered, “Me, too.”
He pulled away. “Maybe all the rest was just luck.”
She took his hand and steered him toward the house. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re still as handsome as any man in town.”
“You mean you can still drink me pretty?”
She laughed. “I don’t have to drink you pretty, but you may drive me to drink.” She sighed. She knew she had to get it out or it would hang over her all evening. “Abbey and Link are getting divorced.”
“So that’s what this divorce talk is all about.”
“Yes. Link just hasn’t been the same since he got that DUI and lost his job. He hasn’t gotten back on his feet. Not like everyone expected he could.”
George shook his head. “I hear he still hits the booze hard. I’m sure that doesn’t help.”
“How did you know?” Mary Ann asked.
He shrugged. “It’s a small town.”
“I wish there was something we could do for those kids of his.”
He brushed the graying bangs from her face and looked into her eyes. “Mary Ann, we’ve got five children. Twelve grandchildren. Please don’t add a few thousand graduates of Crossing Trails High to your worry list.”
“Fortunately, not all my students call me at once.”
“Still, you’ve got your hands full and then some. This year in particular.”
Mary Ann was puzzled by the comment. “Why do you say that?”
“Good elves are hard to come by. Christmas is just weeks away. Have you started hiring? Brought in supplies for the workshop? Fed the reindeer?” He smiled at her. “They’ve got to eat, you know.”
She rolled her eyes, wishing he hadn’t reminded her of the whole Anna Claus mess. “Not yet, but I’ve fluffed the pillows on the Claus sofa. So you’re taken care of.”
The two of them walked toward the old two-story farmhouse. The back-porch light shone the yellow of summer squash. The moon slipped behind the aluminum-tinged clouds, and the musty smell of late autumn blew down from the tree-clad hills that flanked Kill Creek like battle-hardened sentries. George held the door open for Mary Ann, and they walked into the kitchen together.
“I’m making eggs,” Laura told Todd. “Do you want some?”
Todd was still on the sofa in his faded blue sweatpants. Elle was rolling a golf ball around the carpet with her nose, and Gracie was lying on the kitchen floor watching Laura. “Sure,” he answered, “but can I have cheese in ’em?”
Laura worked one day of each weekend, as a nurse at the Crossing Trails Wellness Center, but she got every Friday off. Todd worked Saturday mornings at the shelter, so they had Friday mornings off together. Laura tried to nudge Todd again. “I was thinking maybe next Friday night I would cook a nice meal and we could have our parents over for dinner. Kind of a ‘Welcome Home, Todd’ celebration. What do you think?”
“I still need to tell my parents that we moved in together.”
Todd saw the concerned look on Laura’s face. “I’ll drive out and talk to them.” He paused, ribbing Laura. “Any day now.”
“Thank you. It might be better if they didn’t find out when they walked through the door for the first time.”
Todd changed the subject. “We need to keep a better eye on Elle. I got a call yesterday from the apartment manager. Somebody complained about her making noise.”
Even after a week, Todd and Laura still had little things to work out, like where to put their toothbrushes, and who cooked and who cleaned. She had finally gotten him to make sure the refrigerator door was completely closed (after Elle helped herself to what she could reach one evening), but she was working on getting him to pour his juice or milk into a glass and not drink from the carton. It was going okay, mostly, but after their first week together Laura saw a distinct and unsurprising pattern emerging. Todd was preoccupied with caring for the dogs and only marginally interested in human domestic tasks—like telling his parents that after three years of dating he had moved in with his girlfriend. She sighed. He was doing it again.
“Really, what did she do now?” Laura asked as she used a fork to remove the bacon from the frying pan.
“I think she gets bored and makes noise.”
Laura wasn’t surprised. Moving in with Todd was great. Moving in with Elle…that was a different matter. “She can be a handful.”
“I’ll ask Hayley if it’s okay, but next week maybe I’ll just take her to work with me.” He’d decided that the problem with Elle was his fault. She loved human contact, so of course she wasn’t happy being alone. It wasn’t good for her. If he brought her to work, she could just follow him around the shelter, and that way he could keep an eye on her. Hayley had allowed that he could take on a few training projects. Elle could be one. She would be hard to place, but he wasn’t ready to give up on her. Not yet. Still, he wasn’t sure where Elle was going to fit in.
“What are you planning on doing with Elle?” Laura asked, almost on cue, their minds both going to the same place.
“I don’t know. I’m kind of worried about her.”
“Do you have prospects?”
“One of my mom’s friends, another teacher, told me about a reading program they’re thinking of doing at the school, one that uses dogs.”
With a spatula Laura scraped the eggs onto a plate for Todd. “I think I’ve heard about that. For some reason kids like to read to dogs. Do you think Elle would be a good fit for that?”
“Elle is fantastic with children, but I doubt she’d enjoy sitting still.”
They both sat down at the small kitchen table to eat. Laura saw other problems. “The way she likes to eat paper, books might not be safe.”
“Do you remember that beautiful old Lab I told you about? The one that came in last week?” Todd asked.
“The one that reminded you of Christmas? His name is Max?”
“Yes. Max might be a better fit for the reading program.”
Todd was already quite fond of Max. The dog was very patient. But because he was old, like Elle he might be hard to place. As soon as the Christmas rush was behind them, if Max hadn’t found a home, Todd would start to train the dog for the program. Until then he’d continue to work on Elle’s general obedience skills and hope a better fit presented itself.
“Don’t worry about Elle,” Todd reassured Laura. “I just know something will come up for her, but until then we can keep her.”
Laura was thinking that maybe Elle needed a more permane
nt solution outside their home, but she didn’t feel comfortable saying anything, knowing how attached Todd was to the dog. “We can give that a try.”
—
By 10:00 a.m. on Monday, Todd admitted that his plan to bring Elle into work had a few wrinkles in it. Hayley had been right about how busy they’d be in the opening months. They were the only no-kill shelter in the county, so there was no shortage of lost and abandoned animals. They had a holiday fostering program to launch. Todd had three canine-obedience classes a week to teach, and there were the seemingly endless needs of their guests and potential adoptive families to consider. There wasn’t much time for training, at least not now.
Todd wondered if Elle could be a canine shelter assistant, sort of a greeting committee for new dogs, helping them acclimate to their new environment. He tried it for a few hours, but she didn’t seem to gravitate to the task.
Elle was a people dog and showed little interest in comforting her canine brothers and sisters, which was not to say that she didn’t find a wide variety of other things interesting. When he tried to mop the floor, Todd thought she could tag along, but Elle got in the way—poking her nose into the trash can and distributing the tasty contents across the concrete floor. When it was feeding time, Elle tried to push over the supply cart so she could get to the food first. Toward the end of the day, when Todd went into the lobby to meet a potential new adoptive family, Elle tried to climb, uninvited, onto the lap of an elderly visitor. Hayley looked on disapprovingly, and Todd knew he was in trouble. He beat her to the punch. “Don’t worry. I’ll put her in one of the empty cages.”
“Good idea.” She tried to joke. “Elle, you are America’s very first disservice dog. We’re so proud.”
Todd took Elle to the back of the shelter and placed her in one of the empty isolation cages where they held new dogs for twenty-four hours to make sure they weren’t sick. Once the door was shut, he got on his knees and spoke to her. “I’m sorry, Elle, but you’ll have to wait here. I have work to do.”