by Sue Pethick
“Can I offer you a drink?” he said.
Jennifer removed the glasses and smiled for the first time since exiting the limo.
“I’d love one,” she said. “Diet anything would be great.”
The third-floor suite was impressive. A private, climate-controlled room overlooking the start-finish line, it had three tiers of thickly padded grandstand seats in the middle with a 180-degree view of the track below. On the left, red leather stools crowded a small wet bar and a smattering of tables provided space for those not wishing to eat in their seats. Mounted on either side of the room were flat-screen televisions broadcasting a warm-up show in anticipation of live race coverage. Other than the two of them, there were about a dozen people inside. Derek Compton had mentioned there’d be people from Cal’s company joining them that day, but he’d assured her it wasn’t a business meeting, just a thank-you from the boss.
Daniels returned from the bar and handed her an icy can of Diet Coke.
“You can let your doggie go now,” he said, nodding at Boomer. “As long as he stays in here, he’s free to roam.”
“Thank you,” she said. “He loves to explore.”
Jennifer released the harness and Boomer took off. Sniffing the floor with a wet and curious nose, he worked his way past the tables and the leather barstools to the vast expanse of glass in front, accepting pats from the folks who were still arriving.
She popped the top of her soda and took several large swallows, the sting from the carbonation as it went down making her eyes water. Until then Jennifer hadn’t realized how nervous she’d been about her fraudulent performance. Now that she and Boomer were in the clear, she was surprised at how dry her mouth had gotten.
The door opened again and six more people—five men and a woman—arrived. Daniels told them to help themselves to the bar, then introduced them to Jennifer as they walked over. As she sipped her drink, Jennifer found she was only half listening, keeping one eye out for Boomer as he continued his survey of the room. In spite of Cal’s assurance that her dog was free to roam the suite, there was always a chance he’d slip out whenever anyone opened the door. With more people arriving and the room getting crowded, she’d have to stay alert lest Boomer escape and blow their cover.
“Is anything wrong?” Cal asked.
Jennifer shook her head. “Just trying to make sure my dog doesn’t slip out the door.”
“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. My people know all about his situation. They’ll keep an eye on him.”
Jennifer nodded and turned toward the monitor, feeling a prick of irritation. How much, she wondered, had Cal told everyone about Boomer’s condition? Had he simply said there’d be a dog in the suite that day, or had he also mentioned that her dog was dying? It made her angry somehow to think that word about Boomer’s illness had spread, as if more people knowing about his diagnosis made it more certain that her dog would die.
You’re being irrational, Jennifer told herself. Cal hadn’t done anything to hurt her. Furthermore, he was doing her a big favor by inviting Boomer to see the race. So what if the people there knew about his condition? It didn’t change anything.
She’d been watching the prerace show for several minutes, when a man on her right said: “What do you think about that, Jen?”
Jennifer turned and was surprised to find Cal and one of her own colleagues staring at her expectantly. Jason Grant had been hired to run the social media team at Compton/Sellwood six months before and was rapidly becoming a thorn in her side. Quick to come up with proposals that promised much and delivered little, he was also a good salesman and eager to the point of mania, which often made her more judicious suggestions seem stodgy by comparison. Rumor had it that Jason also referred to her as “the Workhorse” behind her back, but at least that was an improvement over the sobriquet some of the other men in the company had saddled her with: “the Ice Queen.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I wasn’t paying attention. What’s the question?”
“We were talking about the upcoming promo that you and your team are putting together for us,” Cal explained. “Jason has a couple of ideas of his own and I thought, as long as you’re here, he could run them by you, see what you think.”
Jennifer felt her stomach tighten. So, Derek Compton had lied; this was a business meeting after all. Nevertheless, it wasn’t Cal’s fault and there were still several minutes to go before the race started. As long as Boomer was all right, she figured it wouldn’t hurt to answer a few questions.
“What sort of ideas?” she asked, doing her best to feign interest.
As Jason shared his suggestion that Daniels Shock Absorbers go all-in on social media, adding Twitter, Tumblr, and Instagram messages to their Web site and Facebook pages, Jennifer felt her smile begin to cool. She and her team had done a lot of research before putting together their marketing plan for Cal’s company, and none of it had indicated that an expanded social media campaign would bring in enough business to justify the cost. She could understand Jason’s point of view, of course. He was a young guy trying to impress the client with the latest whizbang approach to capturing hearts and minds, but the truth was that not every approach produced results. Unless Cal Daniels had money to burn—which she sincerely doubted—it wasn’t worth paying for what this kid was proposing.
Jason finished his spiel with a flourish, and the two men waited for her response. Jennifer nodded thoughtfully, stalling for time. How should she put this?
She was still trying to come up with a diplomatic way of telling them what she thought, when the door swung open and a waiter came in pushing a linen-covered cart that was laden with food. Before the door could swing shut, she saw Boomer slip outside.
“Boomer, come back here!” she yelled, startling the people around her. “I’m sorry,” she told Cal. “I have to go catch my dog.”
Forgetting the ruse that had allowed her to bring a dog into the stadium, Jennifer charged out the door, searching the broad, carpeted passageway for her wayward animal. With the start of the race only minutes away, the area was crowded with people jostling one another as they headed for their seats. A woman stepping out of the restroom ran into her, and the child in her wake trod on her foot. Jennifer peered over the heads that passed her on all sides. There was a stairwell fifty feet to the right. Had he gone in that direction, she wondered, or back the way they came in? If she didn’t find Boomer soon, they’d be evicted before the race even started.
Then she heard a voice above the din.
“Here he is! I’ve got him.”
A sandy-haired man in a blue shirt was waving at her from across the aisle. Jennifer waved back and began pushing her way through the sea of bodies. As the crowd parted, she saw Boomer standing there, the man’s hand securely on his harness. The relief she felt brought tears to her eyes.
“Thank you so much!” Jennifer said as she hurried over.
Boomer’s hindquarters were wiggling, and before she could stop him, he stood on his hind legs and licked the man’s face.
“Boomie, get down! I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching for his harness. “He’s usually better behaved than this.”
The man laughed. As Boomer’s paws hit the ground, he bent down and ruffled the dog’s fur playfully.
“That’s okay,” he said, glancing up at her. “He’s just excited. After all, it’s not every day you witness a miracle.”
“What?”
He pointed. “You can see.”
Jennifer’s hand flew to her face.
“Oh, my God. I forgot the glasses. We’d better go.”
The man looked over her shoulder and grimaced.
“Better not. There’s a security guard coming this way.”
“Oh, no,” she said. “He’s going to throw us out.”
“Hold on, don’t panic.” The man reached into his front pocket and handed her his sunglasses. “Put these on and take Boomer’s harness like he was leading you somewhere.”
Jennifer did as she was told.
“Okay, now what?” she whispered.
“Now,” he said, glancing back over her shoulder, “you act like you’re really ticked off at me.”
“What?” She shook her head. “No. Why would I be mad at you for catching my dog?”
He gave her an exasperated look.
“Because,” he hissed. “People aren’t supposed to pet service dogs. It distracts them from doing their job. A blind person like you ought to know that.”
“But I’m not—Oh, yeah,” she said. “Point taken.”
“Okay, here he comes.” The man winked. “Just pretend you weren’t hitting on me.”
Jennifer stiffened and drew back just as the security guard arrived.
“Excuse me,” he said. “We don’t allow dogs—”
He paused, seeing the harness and special blanket.
“Oh, sorry, ma’am. I didn’t know he was yours.”
“That’s quite all right,” Jennifer said, staring vacantly into space. “Apparently, you’re not the only one who doesn’t recognize a seeing-eye dog when he sees one.”
She reached down and patted Boomer’s head.
“Would you mind showing us back to our suite? I’m afraid we’ve gotten turned around.”
As the guard took her arm, leading her back the way she’d come, Jennifer saw her Good Samaritan smile and wave.
CHAPTER 6
Jennifer sat in their motel room that night, swiping through the pictures she’d taken at the speedway and trying to decide which ones she should send to Stacy. Technically, she wasn’t on the road yet, but she thought her admin would enjoy them and it would be good to get into the habit. Once she and Boomer were underway, she wanted to be able to do it automatically. After all, what good was an itinerary if you didn’t keep it up-to-date?
When the security guard had returned them to their suite, Cal apologized for the distraction and urged her to get something from the buffet table, sparing Jennifer from a confrontation with Jason, the social media fanboy. There’d been just enough time for her to grab a sandwich before the drivers started their engines and the roar of forty-three stock cars sent everyone scrambling for their seats.
She and Cal sat in the front row, overlooking the starting line, while Boomer staked out a place by the window. Up on hind legs, his front paws braced against the lower sill, he’d watched the cars approach the rolling start like a bird dog waiting for a duck to fall. Then as the leaders passed the start-finish line and the whine of their engines shook the stadium, Boomer went crazy. Back and forth he ran along the window, “chasing” the cars down on the track in a barking frenzy. Cal’s people seemed to have gotten as big a kick out of Boomer’s antics as she had, but looking back Jennifer knew she’d been lucky that no one in the adjoining suites had complained about the noise. Daniels Shock Absorbers might be an important sponsor, but they’d still be in trouble if anyone found out that Boomer wasn’t really a seeing-eye dog.
She swiped back to the video she’d taken of Boomer as he tried to follow the cars on the other side of the window, and smiled. Watching him leap and lunge, determined to catch the race cars as they zoomed by, it was hard to believe he was really sick. Maybe she’d send it to Stacy, she thought. It would give the poor girl something to laugh about when Jennifer’s clients started bellowing on Monday morning. Adding it to the rest of the pictures, she hit “send” and reminded herself to thank Derek again for giving her his ticket. It had been a long time since she’d seen Boomer so energetic.
If only it had lasted, she thought, as she slipped the phone back into her purse. Instead, as the cars continued to whiz by, Boomer’s bark had grown weaker and, a few laps later, he’d stopped running in pursuit as they passed. By the time the winner had crossed the finish line, he was lying on the floor at her feet.
Jennifer glanced down at her dog, softly snoring on the bed beside her, and bit her lip. He’d been so tired after the race that he could barely walk, and for the second time that day she’d been afraid that their cover would be blown. It had been risky enough having a seeing-eye dog that didn’t pay attention; if she’d had to carry him back out to the limo, too, even her Good Samaritan wouldn’t have been able to save her.
She reached over and picked up the sunglasses that were sitting on the nightstand, wondering about the man who’d covered for them back at the speedway. Boomer had always been protective of her, and it often took a while for him to warm up to people he didn’t know—especially men—so it surprised her when he’d run over to a stranger rather than taking off on his own. She was grateful that he had, of course. If the guy hadn’t grabbed Boomer’s harness when he did, the security guard might have spotted him first and they’d have been tossed out. Still, it had given her an odd feeling to see her boy take to someone else so quickly. Whoever the man at the stadium was, Boomer must have thought he was pretty special.
With the pictures sent off to Stacy, and Boomer sleeping soundly, it was time for Jennifer to get to work. She dragged her suitcase from the closet; took out the maps, guidebooks, and travel brochures she’d picked up at the Auto Club; and spread them out on the desk. Dr. Samuels said that Boomer had a month left, and she was determined not to waste it. First, they’d explore every historic landmark and scenic byway from Joliet to Santa Monica. Then, when they got to California, she’d promised Boomer that he could romp in the surf. She was going to plan this trip like she planned her projects at work, right down to the last detail. Every second would be filled with interesting things to do and every day would be better than the day before. They’d have fun, and lots of it! As she opened up the first map, she felt like a general devising a battle plan.
An hour later, though, Jennifer was exhausted, and she’d barely planned a thing. There were so many variables to consider, so many competing interests to juggle, that it was overwhelming. Even worse, she’d developed a crick in her neck and eye strain was giving her a headache. This would be so much easier to do online, she thought, pushing the guidebooks aside.
Jennifer glanced longingly at her iPhone, wondering if there were any important e-mails in her in-box. Her self-imposed prohibition against electronic media was going to be a tall order for someone as connected as she was; she could hardly even remember what she’d done before the Internet. Could she really go an entire month without it?
Yes, Jennifer told herself, feeling her spine stiffen. She owed Boomer that much, at least. A month free from the constant distraction of social media would be good for her, and there would be plenty of time to catch up with things once he was gone. She’d done enough for one night, she decided. She put everything back in her suitcase, got ready for bed, and crawled under the covers with the new book she’d bought to read on the trip. Halfway through the second chapter, she was fast asleep.
*
Jennifer woke up the next morning in a panic. She’d been dreaming she was back in college, trying and failing to get to a final exam. It was a familiar dream; she must have had it dozens of times over the years, but this time it was different. This time, she was confident she’d get there because Boomer was leading the way.
Then Boomer died and she was lost.
Gasping for breath, dread roiling her insides, she sat bolt upright and looked around. Light was streaming through a gap in the curtains. Was it morning already? Why hadn’t Boomer woken her? He always got up before she did. She turned, saw him lying in the same place he’d been the night before, and felt her throat constrict. Was this it? Had the dream been some sort of omen?
She held her breath, waiting until she saw the rhythmic rise and fall of his side, then released it slowly. It had just been a bad dream, nothing more. Boomer was still with her, still sleeping peacefully by her side. She crept closer and gently set her ear against his side, hearing the steady, reassuring beat of his heart.
“Please don’t leave me, Boomie,” she whispered. “Not yet. I’m just not ready.”
By the time Jennif
er had showered and changed, Boomer was up and pacing the floor. Dream or no dream, he was ready for a walk. She put on his leash, and the two of them headed out to the dog park in back. While Boomer sniffed the relief area for inspiration, Jennifer flipped through a pamphlet called Discovering the History of America’s Mother Road. She’d been planning to take him on a hike that morning, but after all the excitement they’d had at the speedway, she thought it might be better to just do some sightseeing.
“What do you think?” she said, as he circled a particularly promising spot on the yellowed grass. “We could view ‘iconic examples of Dust Bowl–era architecture and memorials celebrating twentieth-century American car culture.’ ”
Boomer ignored her, busy as he was with the task at hand.
“How about ‘a well-loved statue of Paul Bunyon,’ or ‘the Gemini Giant, pride of Wilmington, Illinois’? Could be fun.”
Still no reaction.
“Or …” she said, putting the pamphlet aside. “I could just roll the window down and let you stick your head out while I drive. What do you think? Should we go bye-bye?”
That got his attention. After a few purposeful seconds scuffing up the grass, Boomer began tugging on his leash, pulling her toward the truck.
Jennifer shook her head.
“No, Boomster, not yet. I meant after breakfast.”
The look he turned on her was baleful. How dare she mention that magical phrase if they weren’t going bye-bye right now?
“You’re right,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said anything. But we still have to eat. What do you suggest?”
The desk clerk told them that the Joliet Route 66 Diner served takeout breakfasts and it was only a few blocks away. As Jennifer walked back across the parking lot with two clamshell containers in her hands, Boomer waited impatiently in the truck, his nose wedged into the two-inch crack at the top of the window.
“Hold your horses,” she said, setting the Styrofoam boxes on the ground. “I want to record this for posterity.”
Jennifer lowered the tailgate and put Boomer in the back, then took out her phone, grabbed the boxes, and climbed in next to him. The dog’s bottom quivered as he watched her pick up the first box and lift the lid.