by Lois Winston
Cynthia was a weak link, as vulnerable as the girls and in some ways worse because she was bound to go into hysterics when she heard about Gracie and the threat.
José didn’t speak, didn’t jump in as we all pooled our ideas, good, bad, and dumb. But as we were about to conclude we’d done all we could, he spoke with the quiet authority of one who knows what he’s talking about. “You need a dog.” Just that, a flat statement.
I stared at him. Somehow, I’d never connected José with dogs. Oh, his family, the Thornberrys, had four or five of them, big dogs, but not being much of a dog person I didn’t pay them no mind. They didn’t bother me, and I didn’t bother them.
Kelly was quick with, “We have Gus.”
“Yeah,” José drawled. “He barks if he’s awake and he hears something. Poor old guy is deaf and blind. Not a watchdog. I mean a big dog who knows its job is to protect Gracie.”
“José,” Mike said patiently, “we’d have to start with a pup, and we don’t have time for that kind of training. This is an immediate threat.” He glanced at Kelly, as though sorry he’d said the last.
She just clutched Gracie, who’d been sleeping and woke up with a start and a cry.
“I can train the dog if you let me pick it.” José’s voice was calm and sure, and inside my heart I did a little happy dance that I was married to this man. I’d like to boast he chose me, but it wouldn’t be true. I chose him, after I met him outside Mike’s hospital room once. Poor José never knew what hit him. Before he knew it, he was married.
But back to dogs. Mike looked skeptical but said okay. Kelly didn’t say much of anything. Then José laid out what he’s need—$100 to get a dog from the humane society and a couple of nights off to do the training. Starting tonight.
Mike agreed to make it happen.
The final thing: I would spend a lot more time with Kelly and Gracie. There was some talk of closing the office and running it from the house, but I nixed that because I needed a place to meet clients. And that brought me straight back to Mrs. Johnson.
I’d left the poor dear waiting at Lili’s. Stood her up. That’s what I’d done. Scrambling for my cell phone, I headed for Maggie’s room to make a private call and try to mend my fences.
TWO
I got Maggie and Em from school, which had been my chore since Gracie was born. I loved hearing those girls discuss their day. “I flunked a math test,” Maggie sounded rather proud.
“You did not,” Em replied, horrified.
“Nah, I didn’t. I just wanted to see what you’d say. But Josh Hillscher walked me to my locker just after last period.”
“No wonder you were late,” her sister said primly. “Who is he? Is he cute?”
Maggie’s tone was lofty. “He plays football, and he drives a Camaro. Old one he restored.”
“Is he the star of the team?”
“Not quite,” Maggie admitted, defeated.
I couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise about the threat to Gracie if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to be the one to tell them. Of course, when we got to the house, they wanted to know what was going on, why everybody was there in the middle of the day, looking grim.
“Something’s happened again, hasn’t it? What’s wrong now?” Maggie’s attitude was belligerent but her tone world-weary, like she’d been there before and didn’t want to be there again. “There” in her mind was confined to the house because of some danger Kelly had put them in.
Em sat quietly and listened, but when Mike explained what was happening, she crossed quickly to Kelly and began croon to her baby sister, all the while stroking her head. Gracie calmed and stared at Em, as though to say, “Thank God you’re here.” Big tears rolled down Kelly’s face, and I knew what she was thinking about those precious children.
Maggie was more direct and less sentimental. “Does this mean I can’t go to the mall with my friends? Can’t drive? I suppose I can’t even spend the night with Jenny.” In her mind, all the things she enjoyed in life were once again being taken away from her.
Nobody said a word, because all that Maggie said was what we’d discussed. I wanted to grab that big baby girl in my arms and rock her but before I could do anything, she stalked off to her room and slammed the door.
“I’ll talk to her when she’s had time to cool off,” Mike said. “She’ll be all right.”
Em kept crooning to her sister.
They’d both be all right, or someone would have to answer to me.
~*~
I’d expected to have to calm and soothe Kelly frequently in the days to come, but it was Mike who showed up in the office next morning. I’d barely been there five minutes, just started the coffeepot, and hadn’t yet read the paper—a morning ritual.
“Keisha? Got a minute?” His voice broke, even with those few words, and his face plainly broadcast his lack of sleep, his worry, his deep fear. Not the strong-as-steel Mike Shandy I knew.
“Of course. Let me get you coffee.” It had just finished perking and was strong. Mike likes his coffee strong and black. I poured a mug almost full and handed it to him.
He was kneading his hands together, an uncharacteristic nervous gesture. “I feel . . . uh . . .foolish….” His voice trailed off. He took a deep breath and began again. This time his voice was more calm and steady. “I never had a nightmare in my life, but I had one last night.”
Okay, now I was a psychoanalyst. “Tell me about it.”
In halting words, he recounted his dream…uh, nightmare. He’d been called out in the night on a fool’s errand—a ruse he had come to believe in the cold light of day. When he came home, Gracie was gone and . . . Now his voice broke completely, and he grabbed a tissue from the box on my desk to mop his face.
“Kelly … the girls…it was awful. They’d been stabbed. Butchered. By a madman. It was the only explanation for the violence, the blood everywhere…. I can’t talk about it anymore. I’m afraid to go home. What will I find?”
“Kelly and Gracie going about their day. The girls are safely at school. I delivered them myself.” I pulled my chair closer. “Mike Shandy that was a dream. Not real life. It ain’t gonna happen.”
He raised his eyes, though his chin remained sunken on his chest. “You sure?”
“You askin’ about my sixth sense?”
Now he couldn’t look at me, but he nodded his yes. Mike knew I’d seen things in my mind, things that threatened Kelly with all kinds of harm, before they happened, and because I saw them, Kelly was safe. Like the time I was at the zoo with José and the girls, and I knew I had to rush to Kelly. Turned out that fat John Henry had Kelly and Mike at gunpoint and was about to take Kelly on a one-way trip to Mexico. When José and I got through with him, he had a smashed wrist and a life sentence in prison.
But I didn’t see anything like that now. Course I ain’t bettin’ the farm on my sixth sense. Still it’s pretty reliable.
“What I said. It ain’t gonna happen. This is all gonna turn out all right. I’d bet José’s life on it.” I just threw that last in, but it even brought a twitch to the corners of Mike’s mouth.
“I’ve got to go to work,” he said briskly, as he stood. His tone implied that I’d been detaining him.
“You do that, Mike. Keep Fort Worth safe. I’ll keep your family safe.”
He gave me a salute of thanks, the old Mike back, until he turned at the door and said, “Uh, Keisha. This morning is between you and me. Okay?”
I gave him a big thumbs up, but as he closed the office door I wondered what Kelly was like, if he was in that bad shape. I cobbled together some papers as an excuse to talk and headed for the Shandy house. It was, I suspected, a household falling apart.
~*~
José always tells me I’m getting ahead of my story, and I’m doing it again. That boy came home with a dog that night. Now I admit I don’t know much about dogs, but I didn’t see any way that pitiful creature was going to protect anyone, let alone hisself. He was big eno
ugh if that’s what’s required of a watch dog. His back came well above my wrist when I could get him to stand—most of the time he slunk down, like he wanted to hide in the floor. He was brown, white, cream, gray—a rainbow of colors that were anything but bright. And they were in spots all over his coat. I expected maybe a brown coat with a white chest and paws—no siree, not this one. José called him a merle. Whatever!
And his name! His name at the shelter was Clyde. I thought sure José would change it—you know, Duke, Prince, something regal. Nope. He said the dog was used to Clyde. But when I called him Clyde, he didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even look at me.
Now when José called him Clyde, it was a whole different story. The no-good sack of bones—did I mention he was so skinny his ribs showed? —would leap to his feet and stand in front of my husband, quivering with excitement. José would pet him or give him a treat and tell him how good he was, and you could see the joy on that dog’s face.
“I been working with him this afternoon,” José admitted. “He’ll make a fine guard dog.”
“He don’t act like he’s guardin’ anything but those treats you’re shoveling at him. What’s he gonna do? Ask the kidnapper for a treat?”
“He hasn’t met Gracie yet. That’s the whole key.”
By gosh, José slept on the floor with that dog all night. I could hear him talking and murmuring during the night and the dog panting and whining. They had a pallet, but to my thinking José belonged in the bed with me, and Clyde belonged in the back yard or the garage.
José had been indignant at those suggestions. “The yard? He could be stolen. And the garage? He’d know he was being shoved out of the family. He belongs right here with us.”
As I tossed and turned in bed I decided I was glad I didn’t have a family with a man who could get so besotted over a dog. Of course, I’d rethink that in the cold light of day. I’d have told you I didn’t sleep a wink, listening to those two, but toward morning I did sleep—so soundly that I never heard José and Clyde leave. I woke to an empty house, and I had breakfast for one at the Grill where we always ate together.
“José get called out?” Peter, the owner, asked.
“You might say that.” I didn’t tell him anymore, and Peter shrugged and walked away. He knew when his favorites didn’t want to talk.
~*~
When I knocked on the Shandy front door, I heard barking, but it wasn’t frantic or menacing. Just an acknowledgment of the knock. I was taken back, because Clyde never made a sound last night, and yet here he apparently was, self-confident enough to bark like the big dog he was. The bark stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
I expected a tear-stained face at the least and open hysterics at the worst, but the Kelly that opened the door, cautiously after making sure it was me, was pretty well composed. Yeah, she looked tired and worn out—that curly hair was flying everywhere, and she had dark circles under her eyes. With no makeup on, her face was pale enough to accentuate the circles. My instant thought, that I squelched, was of a racoon.
The house was quiet, Gracie silent. Then I heard a soft growl—not threatening, just sort of an alert. And there was Clyde, lying next to the blanket where Gracie lay sleeping. Clyde’s ears were up, his eyes fixed on me, his tail not wagging.
I stopped in my tracks.
José sat on the couch, watching. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Friend.” Then, to me, “Hold out your hand, by his nose, and let him smell you.”
I never thought I’d be kowtowing to no dog, but there I was, holding my hand out and praying to the Lord it didn’t get bitten.
Clyde snuffed and looked at me, but he didn’t budge.
I looked at José. “What if I want to pick Gracie up?”
Kelly jumped in. “Don’t you dare wake her. She was up all night, crying like her heart would break.”
I caught my breath. I know I got the sixth sense, but could that sweet child have some of it? Could she see the threat to her, even envision a life away from the people she already loved, the home she knew? I was carrying it too far, and I knew it, so I straightened myself and assured Kelly I wouldn’t wake her. I knew that old saying, “Never wake a sleeping dog or baby.” But what would happen when the baby woke up?
Kelly and I settled at the table, with my papers from the office between us. José maintained his watch on the couch, glancing at his watch every occasionally. When Gracie stirred, Clyde got up, stood over her, and nudged her with his nose. I swear that child smiled at him. Seemed to me José had accomplished a miracle in what? Two hours? I said so.
“Dogs that age are naturally protective if you’ve shown them a bit of love. I looked into Clyde’s background, and he was born in a loving household. Circumstances and a post-puppyhood owner who should never have had a dog landed him in the shelter. But along the way he had some training. That bad owner sent him to a military-style school for guard dogs He flunked out. What we’ve all got to do is show him love, not discipline.
He wasn’t like a lot of other dogs, hasn’t been abused. I sensed he’d be good. I didn’t have to tell him much.” He looked at his watch again. “Test coming up.”
We barely had time to register the words when someone began pounding on the front door, and a male voice yelled, “Let me in, let me in now or I’ll break this door down!” There was threat in every word.
Clyde was on his feet but still right by Gracie’s side. A deep low growl, one of the most threatening sounds I’ve ever heard, came from his chest.
José nodded to Kelly, and she opened the door, while I stood with my heart in my mouth, thoroughly confused. Oh, I could tell Gracie wasn’t in any danger, but I didn’t understand what José had up his sleeve, and I was sure going to give that boy a piece of my mind when I got him home tonight.
As I watched, frozen, Kelly scooped up the baby and held her tight, crooning to keep the noise from upsetting her.
My eyes were riveted on the front door, and I near screamed when a man I’d never seen burst through the door. He looked like a Martian, honest to gosh, with strange arms and legs, and he was waving his arms and yelling. “Where is that baby?” José didn’t look alarmed, so I knew it was okay, but still a small scream escaped. Kelly stood transfixed.
But Clyde was the one who leapt into action—literally. At a command from José and with another deep growl, that dog ran to the man and grabbed his arm in his teeth, shaking his head vigorously as though he’d tear the limb from the man’s body. The man dodged and danced, at one point pulling his arm free only to have the dog clench his teeth on a leg.
I finally realized the man was wearing the protective gear that people use in training guard dogs. This was probably someone from the canine unit of the police. José had arranged a test for Clyde, and Clyde passed with flying colors. I couldn’t believe José had trained that dog in less than twenty-four hours—I’d be asking those questions at home tonight.
José nodded to Kelly, and in a voice stronger, more demanding than I’d ever heard from that girl, she put out two words. “Clyde, come!”
Clyde released his victim and crossed the room to sit by Kelly’s side, staring up at the baby and whining softly.
The perpetrator pulled off his armor and the fake face hair he wore. There was a pleasant-looking fellow under all that. “Hi, folks. I’m Carl, professional dog trainer. José,” he said. “Looks like you get a winner. Tell me his background.”
“Got him at the humane society yesterday,” José said. “I’d like to tell you I did all that myself, but he’d had some training. He was, uh, a drop-out from a military type of program.”
“He wasn’t like this last night. He looked like someone had beaten him.”
José shrugged. “I didn’t use the commands. Wanted to save them for the place he’s to protect. And the beaten down attitude. I imagine he was—he’d had two or three foster homes after that bad owner nearly ruined him and before he landed in the humane society. I think he was confused, weren’t you, boy
?” He whistled softly, and Clyde came to him after a glance at Kelly who nodded her head. As he rubbed the dog’s ears, José said, “I been studying on this stuff online.”
“Why?” My radar shot straight up.
“So’s we can have a dog—a guard dog to take care of you, Keisha.”
Just what I expected! Was I gracious about his kind sentiment? No, not at all. “I don’t need no dog. I can take care of myself.” Those words would come back to bite me, and I knew it.
~*~
Mike loved Clyde—in fact, they fell in love with each other immediately. Clyde didn’t go through all his protection stuff when Mike came home—just watched for a few minutes and then began to wag his tail. I suspect Mike had wanted a big dog all along, but this was just a hard way to get his wish.
There were two flies in the ointment—Miss Cynthia, Kelly’s mom, and Gus, Maggie’s dog. Gus was old, partially blind and deaf. He had walked right up to Clyde apparently unafraid—Go Gus, I cheered—and Clyde sniffed at him and turned away. Ever after, Gus ignored that dog, acted like he wasn’t there. Only time they had a bit of trouble was when Gracie was on the floor and Gus wandered into what Clyde considered protected territory. Clyde would give off a deep, low growl—soft, but unmistakable—and Gus would turn and waddle the other way. I guess if he couldn’t hear, Gus could sense that growl.