“I’ve been putting the medicine on him just like you told me to. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t seem to be in any real pain.”
“He looks good.” Dr. Dixon’s eyebrows knitted together. “He’s beginning to heal nicely.”
“But you look concerned.”
“Well . . .” Dr. Dixon trailed off, running his hands through a patchy spot of hair at the top of Felix’s head. “His hair was a little thin when you brought him in, and I think it might be worse. We need to do a skin scraping to rule out mange.”
“Mange?”
“Let’s just be sure.” Dr. Dixon produced a small, flat razor from a side drawer.
“Is that going to hurt him?” Addie asked. “I don’t want that to hurt him.”
“He’ll feel a little pinch.” He scraped a small section of Felix’s head and wiped the contents onto a glass slide.
“I’ll be right back.” Dr. Dixon patted Addie on the shoulder.
Addie reached over to pet Felix. He inched forward and licked her hand. “I’m sorry, buddy,” she said. “I promise I won’t trick you anymore.”
Felix allowed her to scratch him underneath his chin for a few seconds before Dr. Dixon appeared in the doorway, a small bottle in his hand.
“Felix appears to have some Demodex.”
“He has what?”
“It’s a form of mange. Don’t worry, it’s not contagious. It just means he may lose some more hair, and you’re going to have to give him some medicine for a month or so.” Dr. Dixon held up the bottle. “This is ivermectin. You’ll need to give this to him orally once a day.”
“Okay.”
“Sometimes this happens, especially with bulldog breeds,” Dr. Dixon said. “It’s not uncommon. I’ve seen it before.”
“That reminds me,” Addie began. “The night that I brought Felix in . . . that night . . . you said that his wounds were something you’d seen before.”
“Yes.”
“Well, what did you mean by that?”
Dr. Dixon nudged his glasses up higher onto the bridge of his nose. “I have seen many, many dog injuries as a result of a couple of farm dogs getting into a fight.”
“But Felix had been shot, too.”
“Yes,” Dr. Dixon said. “But it’s also not uncommon for farmers to shoot an animal that they don’t think will live.”
“Instead of taking the dog to you?” Addie asked. “Is it also common for farmers to take their animals off of the farm while they’re obviously still alive, wrap them up in plastic bags, and dump them down by the levee like garbage?”
“I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at.”
“I don’t know what I’m getting at, either,” Addie replied. She was exasperated that she couldn’t explain herself. “I just don’t understand why someone would do what they did to Felix. He belonged to somebody, and I think we both know it wasn’t a farmer.”
“This is a safe town,” he replied. “Most people around here are good people. But you need to be careful down there by the levee. And I’d put that mange medicine in something yummy before you give it to him.”
Addie closed the door to the exam room and headed up to the front desk. She wished she had a friend down here, someone she could talk to about things. Nothing she said seemed to come out right when she didn’t get to talk through her thoughts first with someone else. Nothing sounded the same inside her head as it did coming out of her mouth. Her mother always told her she got it from her father. Her aunt had been the same way. She missed Jonah.
“Addie, baby, here are the pamphlets Doc was talking about,” Wanda called out, nodding in the direction of the double doors leading back to the examination rooms.
Addie smiled over at Wanda. “Okay, thanks.”
“You never told me about what happened after the fair,” Wanda whispered.
“Nothing happened. He gave me a ride home,” Addie said. “In his tractor.”
Wanda began to giggle. “You’re kidding!”
“It was actually kind of cute.”
“I’m going to give Jasper a call,” Wanda said, “and tell him if he offers you a ride in his manure spreader you just might fall in love.”
“I have no idea what that is,” Addie replied. “But it sounds awful.”
“It is exactly what it sounds like.”
“Gross!”
The women dissolved into a fit of giggles. When Wanda caught her breath she said, “You’re doing a good job with Felix. Doc says so. How is everything going with the house? Have you managed to get that dang shed cleaned out yet? The last time I went in there was with your aunt, and it was bursting at the seams.”
“I’m trying.” Addie looked over at the kennel. “He is still pretty scared. Not that I blame him. And the house still needs a lot of work. I’m taking it one day at a time, but I’m thinking I bit off more than I can chew.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
“But I am excited to see what all is in that shed.”
“Don’t worry about the mange,” Wanda said. “It’s common, ’specially when people don’t do nothin’ that they’re ’sposed to for their animals.”
“Seems to be a running theme around here.”
“It’s a runnin’ theme everywhere, darlin’.”
“I guess I just never realized.”
Wanda patted Addie’s hand. “Your aunt Tilda was wonderful with animals. She took excellent care of her cats, and I bet you have the same touch.”
“You have her cats now, don’t you?” Addie asked. “Can I see them?”
“I do!” Wanda’s eyes brightened. “Hey, why don’t you come over one night this week? I’ll cook supper, and you can see the little devils.”
Addie hesitated.
“Bryar would love it.”
“Okay,” Addie replied. “I’d love that, too. Thank you!”
“Thanks, nothing, sugar. That’s what friends are for.”
CHAPTER 8
ADDIE STOOD ON THE DOORSTEP OF WANDA’S HOUSE, POISED TO ring the doorbell. Above her, menacing clouds loomed, casting shade throughout the yard. She thought about Felix alone in the house. She hoped he’d be okay if it started to storm. He wasn’t at all happy with his new medicine. It made him itch worse than before, and Addie was beside herself not being able to explain to him that it was for his own good. Before her finger reached the button, the door swung open.
“You’re here! Great!” Wanda exclaimed. “Come on in!”
“Thanks for inviting me to dinner.” Addie grinned. “I was starting to feel very hostile toward my microwave.”
The entire house smelled of suppertime, the word her aunt had always used. In Chicago, people called the last meal of the day dinner, but in the South, she learned, they called it supper. And supper was glorious. Addie’s stomach growled. She followed Wanda to the kitchen. The place was small, but it was comfortable. From her spot by the stove, Addie could see Bryar watching television in the living room. He sat in his underwear on a child-size recliner.
“Is Bryar watching the Weather Channel?”
Wanda sighed, bending down to pull the tuna casserole out of the oven. “Yes. The kid is obsessed with weather.”
Bryar bounded into the kitchen, a broad smile on his freckled face. He looked up at Addie and said, “Hi! Wanna come watch TV with me?”
Bryar led Addie toward the living room. “Sure,” Addie said. “But do we have to watch the Weather Channel?”
“Yes. There’s a storm coming.”
“Is that what the weatherman says?” Addie sat down beside the small recliner.
“Uh-uh,” Bryar said, shaking his head back and forth. “She says it is going to miss us.”
“Well, that’s good, right?”
“There’s a storm coming,” Bryar repeated. “It’s coming here. I know.”
Wanda piped up from the kitchen, “That’s what he always says. He’s only right about fifty percent of the time.”
“Mama!” Br
yar shrieked, turning around backward in his chair. “I said! I said!”
Wanda put her hands up in the air and replied, “I know, I know. Come on now, it’s time to eat.”
The three of them gathered around the table in the kitchen. Addie had never seen such a spread. She didn’t know the first thing about cooking, despite her various attempts to learn. If it didn’t fit in the toaster or the microwave, it didn’t get cooked.
“This looks amazing.” Addie gawked at the food. “I haven’t had a meal that looked this good since Jonah made me . . .” She trailed off, realizing that Wanda would have no idea who she was talking about.
“Who’s Jonah?”
“Oh, just someone I used to know back in Chicago,” Addie said, waving off Wanda’s question. “He was an amazing cook.”
“Don’t you like to cook?”
“I think I’d like it better if I wasn’t so terrible at it,” Addie admitted.
“My granny taught me to cook when I was just knee-high to a grasshopper,” Wanda replied.
“Since you were what?”
“Since I was a young’un.”
“Aunt Tilda tried to teach me every summer,” Addie said. “But it never took.”
“My granny didn’t think a woman could keep a man if she couldn’t cook, but feedin’ and keepin’ ain’t the same thing at all.”
“I guess not.”
Wanda stirred the pot. “So how is Felix doin’ with that medicine?”
“Getting him to take it is an all-day event. He won’t take a treat from my hands, so I have to put the medicine in the treat and leave it on the floor. Then I have to leave the room completely before he’ll even think about eating it.”
“You can hardly blame the poor dog. He’s not had much reason to trust people.”
Addie dug her fork into the casserole. “Oh, I know. He seemed terrified at your office the other day, but he’s a good boy. He never growls or tries to bite.”
“You’d be amazed the difference a little love can make,” Wanda said, giving Addie an encouraging smile. “He’s just a puppy.”
Addie was about to respond when the doorbell rang. A large figure loomed on the other side of the kitchen window, hidden by the curtains.
“Who in the . . . ,” Wanda mumbled, pushing her chair back.
The doorbell rang again.
“I’m coming!” Wanda yelled. “Hang on to your horses!” She opened the door and her irritation vanished. “Bobby!”
“Wandeeeeeeeeeee!” the man on the other side of the door exclaimed. “I missed you, little sister!”
“I was wonderin’ when you’d finally show up at my door,” Wanda gushed, dragging him inside. “I ’bout thought you was dead!”
“Uncle Bobby!” Bryar squealed, jumping out of his chair and knocking over his glass of milk. “Hi! Hi, Uncle Bobby!”
“Bryar, calm down!” Wanda scolded halfheartedly, stepping aside so that her son could jump into Bobby’s arms. “Addie, this is my brother, Bobby.”
“Hi.” Addie smiled at the hulking figure in front of her. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Bobby replied. “I didn’t mean to interrupt supper.”
“Nonsense!” Wanda said, clucking her tongue. “Pull up a seat. Delight us with stories of the open road!”
Addie smiled to herself, listening to Wanda and Bobby’s excited conversation. She wished sometimes that she had a brother or sister to share a bond with.
“Everybody sit! Sit!” Wanda commanded, placing Bryar back in his chair at the table. “This supper isn’t going to eat itself!”
Bobby went about filling his plate with his sister’s cooking. He was eyeing the food as hungrily as Addie had, and she was grateful she’d fixed her plate beforehand.
“So, Miss Addie,” Bobby began, his mouth full of casserole, “what brings you to our fine town?”
Addie grinned. She liked him. “You might have known my aunt. Tilda Andrews. I inherited her house.”
Bobby’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes! She made the best fried pies around. I was sorry to hear about her passing.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit her talent for baked goods,” Addie admitted. “And thank you. So, what is it that you do?”
“I was a long-haul trucker,” Bobby replied proudly. “Been on the road for fifteen years.”
“Wow, I bet that’s interesting.”
“It was,” Bobby agreed. “Wrecked my rig about a month ago, and I ain’t had the time or money to get ’er fixed.”
“Oh,” Addie said, “I’m so sorry. I’m glad you weren’t hurt.”
“Bruised a couple of ribs.” Bobby leaned back in his chair and patted his hearty midsection. “Got rear-ended on the Manchac Swamp Bridge in Louisiana. Held up traffic for hours.”
“How come you’re not still in Mississippi with Doreen?” Wanda asked.
“Things with me and her ain’t goin’ so well.”
“She get tired of ya?”
“More or less.” Bobby let out a throaty chuckle that turned into a cough. “Hell, I’ve gotta stop smoking.”
“It would help if you weren’t spending so much time over with Redd. The man smokes like he’s having his last meal.”
“I’ve only been back in town a week,” Bobby said. “How’d you know that I’ve been stayin’ with Redd?”
“Mama told me,” Wanda replied. “I figured he had you up to no good, otherwise it wouldn’ta taken a week for you to come visit your little sister.”
Bobby picked at his teeth with his pinkie finger. “So far he’s the only man in town decent enough to have offered me a job.”
“You know that work ain’t decent, Bobby Carter. And it sure as Jesus ain’t honest. That man is crookeder than a three-dollar bill.”
“He’s what?” Addie asked, breaking into their conversation.
“Just something our granny used to say,” Bobby replied. “What Wanda’s tryin’ to say is that she don’t like Redd much.”
“Oh.” Addie picked up her plate and started toward the sink. The conversation Wanda and Bobby were having felt like something that should be private—especially since Addie didn’t even know who they were talking about.
“You don’t have to do that!” Wanda jumped up. “You’re the guest!”
“I am capable of clearing my plate,” Addie said. “Besides, I’ve got to get going. Felix must be going crazy by now.”
“Addie!” Bryar called from the table. “You stay to play!”
Addie walked over to the little boy and ruffled his hair. “I can’t tonight, kiddo. I have to get home to my dog. And didn’t you say there was a storm coming?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have to go before it starts!”
“I’ll play with you, bubba,” Bobby hollered from the table. “What do you want to play?”
“No.” Bryar crossed his arms firmly across his chest. “I want Addie.”
“You’re gonna hurt your old uncle Bobby’s feelings,” Bobby said. “We can play whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Sure.”
“I want to play Weatherman!” Bryar squealed. “You be the storm! The mean storm!”
Addie hugged Wanda and let herself out, leaving the cozy scene going on inside. Part of her wished she could stay. She looked up at the sky as she hurried out to her little Honda, parked on the street next to Bobby’s massive F-150. There was a rumble in the distance, clouds circling menacingly above her. She looked up at the sky darkening around her, thinking that maybe Bryar knew more about the weather than his mother gave him credit for.
By the time Addie made it back to her house, the power was out all over town, and the rain was pouring down in opaque sheets. She used the last minutes of daylight to rustle up a few candles.
Once she’d gotten Felix settled and given him a treat to keep him from barking at the flickering candlelight, Addie found the sandpaper on the counter and sat down on the floor—sandpaper i
n one hand and glass of wine in the other. Jonah had liked to use electric sanders, but Addie never got used to them. She felt like it rushed the job, made the relationship between her and the wood somehow impersonal. Jonah thought that this was a silly excuse for taking twice as long on a project.
“Well, you’re not here,” Addie said aloud. “It’s just me now, and I’m doing it my way.” It exhilarated her to say those words out loud. One of the worst arguments they’d ever had was over sanding. Addie took a sip of her wine. She’d told Jonah that in one of the books he’d given her about refinishing wood, it had said that power tools could be too harsh on delicate pieces. He’d told her that she read too much. “But you gave me the book,” she’d said to him.
“I didn’t expect you to read it from cover to cover,” he’d replied.
“That’s what books are for,” she’d said, before skulking off to their bedroom. She could hear the electric sander clear into the early morning hours. She hadn’t known then that the piece he was working on had really been for her, that his need to finish by the morning for her birthday was more important than anything else. How surprised she’d been when she’d walked downstairs to find breakfast sitting on that beautiful bench in the breakfast nook, and sitting next to her orange juice was a ring—a diamond ring. Before she could react, Jonah was down on one knee.
Addie wiped a stray tear sliding down her cheek. She drank more wine. Always sand in the direction of the grain—never perpendicular to it or at an angle, she told herself. But she couldn’t see the direction of the grain; the tears were blurring her vision now, flowing freely.
Outside the thunder boomed, sending Felix into a frenzy. He bumped into her elbow, and the glass fell out of her hands and shattered.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Addie said to him. He was in her lap, and she didn’t quite know what to do. She leaned down and put her arms around his shivering body. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Addie said, nuzzling her wet cheeks into his fur. “Don’t be afraid.” It felt good to feel his little body pressed into hers, soft and warm. Maybe she hadn’t been able to keep Jonah safe, but she could surely keep her dog from trembling beneath her fingertips.
After a few minutes, Addie released him and stood. Without hesitation, Felix scrambled up and followed her into the bedroom. He sat on the rug by the bed watching her as she felt around for her pajamas.
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