by Shawn Inmon
Why didn’t I think about this earlier? I’m an idiot.
He heard the tinny ringing of the phone on the other end once, twice, three times.
A deep male voice said, “Master’s residence, Merlin Masters speaking.”
“Oh, hey, Merlin, so damn good to hear your voice,” Joe said.
I am always gonna sound like a little kid next to Merlin.
“Who’s this? Wait. Joe? Is that you Joe?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Merlin.”
“Well, hello, my mysterious Middle Falls friend. I believe I’ve been seeing you on the news the last few months.”
“Yeah, I’ve got one of those faces that’s hard to forget.”
“You did a great thing. Another great thing, I guess I should say.”
“Thanks, Merlin. The same day that John died, a couple of friends of mine—the two guys that I was after when I met you—also died in a car crash. It was a shitty, shitty day. Just now, I was sitting here, trying to figure things out, and this terrible thought occurred to me. What if, along with John and my other friends, something had happened to you, too?”
“No, nothing happening here. Oh, I went in for bunion surgery a few weeks ago, but that’s about the most exciting thing that’s happened in our lives.”
Their conversation went on for another half hour, then Sapphire got on the phone, and another forty-five minutes passed easily. The call only ended when Joe promised he would come up for a visit in the bucolic town of Winlock, Washington, before the summer was over.
Joe hung up with a sigh of relief.
I guess not everything I’ve done in these lives is a waste. The four of them are safe and happily living a life that would have been snuffed out by the volcano. So then, why are they alive, when JD, Bobby, and John have died again?
Joe thrummed his fingers on the table, unconsciously mimicking the rhythm of Forever for You.
Maybe because their lives were spared almost by accident, like a by-product of what I was trying to do. Does the universe take things like that into account? “Above my pay grade” was what Carrie had said. I wish I could just ask her.
On a hunch, he said, “Carrie? Are you there? Can you come talk to me again?”
There was no answer but the tapping of a bush against his window.
THE NEXT MORNING, JOE woke up with a new attitude. He folded his Murphy bed into the wall, made himself some sausage and scrambled eggs, then called Debbie at the shelter.
“If it isn’t the dog-whisperer himself,” Debbie said when she recognized Joe’s voice.
“Got my cast off, and I’m mostly done with physical therapy, now. I was wondering if it would be okay if I started coming by and helping out again?”
“Okay? I’ve fed enough dogs and cats and cleaned enough poop to last me several lifetimes. Please, please come back.”
Joe chuckled. “I’ll be there in a few.”
He hadn’t been to the shelter in more than six months, and all the animals that were there then were gone. Still, it felt like a homecoming. The familiar aroma, which had once nearly made him sick, now didn’t bother him at all.
When he came in the front door, Debbie jumped up from behind the desk and rushed around to hug him, her scrawny arms wrapped around him with a vengeance.
“I was so worried about you!”
“No reason to be.”
“No, not at all. Facing down a gunman when you are unarmed. Bravest thing I’ve ever heard of. Come here,” she said, conspiratorially. “Got something to show you.”
She led Joe behind the counter and pulled out a scrapbook. Inside, on every page, were news articles she had clipped of the coverage of the whole event at the Dakota.
She beamed at him. “For posterity. I made it for you.”
Joe blushed a little, but said, “Thank you, Deb. That’s so cool.”
“Well, it’s for you, but I want to keep it here for a little while. I’ve been showing everybody who comes in. It’s great having a celebrity volunteering here.”
“I can’t wait until I’m not a celebrity any more. Hey, cages need cleaning and animals need fed?”
“You know it.”
“I’m on it.”
He pushed through the door into the kennels and stopped to listen to the cacophony of barks, woofs, and howls.
Good to be back.
He pulled the tools of the trade out of the closet and pushed the cart toward the far end of the facility. When he got to the last kennel, he picked the card up and read it before he looked inside. The card read, “1 scoop dog food, 1 scoop cat food.”
What the heck?
Joe looked inside and saw a gorgeous Havana Brown cat and a mixed breed Chow.
We never mix dogs and cats together. What’s going on?
“I just came to tell you, so you wouldn’t be too surprised. That’s Jenny and Allen.”
“Why are they in together?”
“Well, I made an exception. They’ve lived together since Jenny was born. That’s the little Chow mix.”
Joe looked at the two of them. Jenny had a reddish orange coat, weighed maybe twenty pounds and had one ear that flopped forward, while the other stood straight up. She looked like an overgrown fox, albeit a large one. Allen was a classic Havana Brown—deep, dark color and the almost-Siamese face, which held wise, inquiring eyes. Allen sat directly in front of Jenny, as though protecting her.
“Their owner passed suddenly last week, and there were no relatives to take them. They’ve never been separated. The neighbor lady who brought them in said that Allen is under the impression that Jenny is her dog.”
“A cat with a pet of its own, eh? Well, that’s something you don’t see every day.”
“I know it’s going to be tough to find a home. Some people want a dog, others a cat, but very few people come in looking for both at the same time. I have a feeling they might be with us a while.”
Joe opened the cage tentatively. Chows aren’t always the best-tempered dogs, and he preferred to be cautious until he knew them better. Allen just switched his tail, though, and Jenny lay still, except for a tiny wag of her tail against the concrete.
Joe kneeled down in front of Allen and said, “Pleased to meet you.”
Allen blinked his bottle-green eyes. Jenny stood and walked two steps toward Joe. She gently licked his hand with her black-spotted tongue, a sure sign of Chow blood.
Joe turned to Debbie. “I’ll take them both.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Joe excused himself back to the office to call Stan and Claire and see how much they minded if he brought not one, but two pets home with him.
“A dog and a cat, Joe?” Claire said. “You are never one to do anything halfway, are you? We’ve been petless since our little Cindy passed away. We were just too heartbroken to get another after her. But, of course you can bring them home. As long as you make me their godmother and allow me visitation rights.”
Joe finished the rest of his round, then ran to the little pet store that was right on the main drag. He bought a litter box, litter, a dog collar, leash, chew toys, and food dishes, food, and a bed for each of them. He threw all that into his trunk, then hurried back to the shelter to retrieve his new roommates.
He carried Allen home in the small cardboard carrier the shelter supplied with every adopted cat. Jenny rode curled up as close to Allen as she could get in the spacious back seat of the Oldsmobile. When he opened the door to his small home, Jenny padded inside as though she had been there many times. She had a majestic tail that looked like a feathered broom that cleaned the air, a swish in every step.
Joe let Allen out of his box and he exited with as much dignity as a prisoner can muster under such circumstances. He sniffed the air, then leaped gracefully up onto the arm of Joe’s sofa. He looked out into the tiny back yard where a few bushes grew outside the window. Small chickadees and sparrows hopped through the branches and Allen found this to be acceptable entertainment.
Joe’s
lonely little home was lonely no more.
THE NEXT MORNING, JOE made a phone call he’d been putting off for months.
As he dialed, he mused. Maybe I’m starting to see the sense in this. When I was working on my Lifetime To-Do List, I was always focused on that, and I haven’t been doing much on making things happen in my own life. I think I finally understand that’s not what this life is about.
His reflection was interrupted when a voice on the other end of the line said, “Gazette.”
“Can I speak to Shannon Harrison, please?
“One moment.”
Joe listened to silence for fifteen seconds, then heard, “Shannon Harrison.”
“Shannon, it’s Joe Hart. I haven’t saved a single rock star in the last few months. I’m wondering if you’ll take me up on that dinner date now?” While he spoke, he absent-mindedly stroked Allen’s fur, while Allen gnawed on his hand. Jenny laid curled at his feet, oblivious to the fact that Joe’s heart was beating hard.
“I thought you’d given up, since I hadn’t heard from you.”
Joe had no idea what to say to that—flirting and small talk with women were skill sets he did not possess—so he just stayed quiet.
“How about Friday night?”
Yes! Keep control, take it easy.
“Well, I’ll have to check my schedule...” Joe’s sad attempt at a joke fell flat, so he said, “Sure. Since you already know where I live, why don’t you come by here. I’ll introduce you to Jenny and Allen. How about 7:00.”
“O—kay,” Shannon said. “No idea who they are, but...”
“Oh, Jenny and Allen are my new dog and cat.”
“Ah. Okay. I’ll swing by your place around 7:00, then.”
When he hung up the phone, he looked at Allen. “Well, I wasn’t exactly a master of the dating arts, but after almost fifty years, at least I finally have a date.”
Allen congratulated him by nipping him on the hand.
“You are the strangest cat,” Joe mused.
Allen murmured a deep-throated meow of agreement.
Joe showered and got ready to head to the shelter. When he was ready to go, he realized he hadn’t thought about what he was going to do with Jenny and Allen while he was gone. They were both adult, house-trained pets, so he didn’t need to worry about messes, but he didn’t want them getting lonely.
He looked at Allen, draped over the back of the sofa, sound asleep. Jenny, meanwhile, sat on her haunches, tongue lolling, looking at him expectantly.
“I guess it’s you and me, then, girl. I have a hunch Allen’s not going to miss us at all.” He put the leash on Jenny, opened the door and stepped outside. Jenny turned and looked at Allen, still oblivious to them, then wagged her tail and followed.
At the shelter, he led Jenny inside. “I didn’t think you’d mind if I brought her along with me,” Joe said to Debbie.
“Of course not. She’s always so well mannered, aren’t you Jenny?”
Jenny gave a small woof of agreement and went to Debbie to be petted.
When Joe went to feed, water, and clean, Jenny went along with him. She padded alongside the cart like a returning hero.
“Jenny, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear you’re acting a little smug. Like, you’re out here now, and they’re still stuck in there.”
Jenny ignored him, but continued to smile at the other dogs.
When Joe had finished his chores and had a cup of coffee and visit with Debbie, he left for his last chore of the day. He drove and parked in the Safeway parking lot and walked to Newman’s men’s clothing store next door.
He had looked in his closet the night before and discovered a lot of Levi’s, worn t-shirts, a few sweatshirts, and not much else. Not exactly dating material, especially when you are an apparent twenty year old, dating an ostensibly older woman.
Newman’s wasn’t a large store, but they did have a nice selection of men’s suits, plus business casual. Joe couldn’t begin to picture himself in a suit and tie, so he poked around through the more casual section.
If I can’t find something here, I’m going to have to drive all the way to Eugene, and I don’t want to leave Allen alone at home that long.
An older, matronly woman approached Joe. “Good afternoon, thank you for coming in. Can I ask what you’re looking for?”
Joe smiled and said, “Something for a kid on his first date, is what I’m looking for.”
“I see,” the woman said, seriously. “And what does this first date consist of?”
“Just dinner.”
“My boy, it’s never ‘just dinner.’ It’s a chance to get to know someone in a way you haven’t before. Is that your goal?”
“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what it is.”
“Wonderful.” She cast an appraising eye over Joe’s frame. “About a 30 waist, 32 length, and a medium shirt?”
Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “Exactly.”
She let a small smile play across her thin lips. “You are not my first nervous young man coming in for help.”
Fifteen minutes later, Joe walked out with a lighter wallet, but much better equipped for the dating world. He held a bag with three pairs of slacks, a belt, dress socks, and half a dozen different shirts.
“You’ll want to prepare for a second and third date, won’t you?” the woman had asked.
Joe did.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Joe never let his house get dirty, but he spent that Friday cleaning it top to bottom. When he was done, not a dust mote remained, and it smelled like that pleasant mixture of Murphy’s Wood Oil, Pine-Sol, and Ajax. To top it off, he lit a cinnamon scented candle and put it on his dining room table.
He picked out his favorite of the clothes he had bought—a blue button-down long-sleeved shirt and a pair of gray slacks, along with his new belt and shoes—and got dressed. Then, he looked at the clock and realized it was only 4:00.
Why does time drag when you’re waiting for something?
He took Jenny for a long walk around the neighborhood to calm his nerves. When he pushed through the gate to walk back to his place, he saw Claire out in her little garden, picking some tomatoes.
She let loose a long, low whistle. “Who is this young man, and what have you done with my friend Joe?”
Joe twitched the right side of his mouth as if to say, “Really?”
“Just got a date, Claire. Figured I better ditch the jeans.”
“Right you are. You are a man of substance and grace. It’s good to let that show from time to time.” She went back to picking her tomatoes and turned away so Joe wouldn’t see how pleased she was.
Finally, 7:00 came. And went. Then 7:15.
Joe’s stomach had been filled with butterflies all day, but now found them replaced by a persistent pain that threatened to get worse.
Finally, the knock came.
Joe opened the door and Shannon was there. She was still dressed for work, in a sensible top and slacks, with her cat’s-eye glasses perched on the end of her nose. She wasn’t exactly turned out, but she did look pretty. She took Joe in, from his new haircut, to his new clothes and shoes. “Oh, my,” she said quietly to herself.
I have no idea which ‘Oh, my,’ that is—the ‘you look great,’ one, or the ‘You’re such a weirdo for getting dressed up’ one.
“Come on in, I’ll introduce you to Allen and Jenny.” Joe stepped back and held the door wide. “Allen is the handsome devil pretending like we don’t exist over there on the couch.” Jenny gave her smallest, most polite woof. “And this eager-to-please dog is Jenny.”
Shannon smiled and said, “So, where do you want to go?”
“I made us a reservation at Burl’s Steakhouse. I guess I should have asked—you’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
Shannon patted her hip, which had a little extra padding. “Are these the hips of a vegetarian? I think not. I love a good steak.”
“Great. Our reservation is for 7:30, so we should g
et going.” As they walked out the door, he turned and looked back at the pets. Allen continued to ignore him. Jenny sat at full attention, one ear up, the other flopped over, hoping to be invited along.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said to her as he closed the door.
They drove in his Oldsmobile. Joe didn’t know whether to make a joke about the fact he drove an old-person’s car or not. When it came to dating, Joe was as lost as Hansel and Gretel without their crumbs.
Instead of making conversation, he turned the radio on. KMFR was playing Linda Ronstadt’s How Do I Make You. Joe did his best to look out of the corner of his eyes, without being obvious, to see if Shannon liked the music. If she liked it or hated it, she gave no sign.
When the Ronstadt song faded out, it was followed by Forever for You. It seemed to Joe that every time he turned the radio on, it was playing.
“Do you know this song?” Joe asked.
“I think it’s just about impossible to not know this song, if you’ve got ears.”
Joe laughed a little nervously. “That’s what radio stations do, right? Find a song you like, and play it to death, so you’re completely sick of it.”
Shannon nodded.
“My dad wrote this song.”
That pricked up Shannon’s ears. “Wait. I thought your dad died a long time ago.”
“He did. December 1st, 1960. But, he wrote this song in 1959. I think John just recorded it as a thank you.”
“Of course, of course.” A weighted pause, then she asked, “Won’t you get money for that?”
Holy crap! I am such a dummy! Oh my God, it’s the most played song of the summer. The royalties are going to be huge. What am I going to do with all that money?
“Honestly, I hadn’t even thought of it, until now, but yeah. It takes a while. It’s not like, every time a radio station plays it, a penny drops into my bank account.”