The Kiss That Counted

by Karin Kallmaker

  She loved it here, loved everything about the sunshine, the snow, the eons-deep green and rock, and the self-reliant people. Mother Nature expected a lot at this altitude, but gave back unstinting beauty. Yes, she thought, she had all she wanted. By the time she pulled into the parking lot of the animal rescue in Kittredge she was ready for some real puppy love.

  "Girl, you are just in time." Nann, her freckles standing out from pale skin in testament to a long, tiring day, handed her a heavy bucket of dry dog food and a scoop. "I think I've found a placement for both of those malamutes before they eat us out of house and home. I've fed the big birds and that mountain lion, but I hadn't gotten around to feeding the back kennel yet."

  "I'll do it, no problem. Any new critters today?" Karita's nose twitched from the sharp tang of disinfectant and odor-killer. The converted building had once been a bakery, with a storefront for display and several large rooms in the rear. Karita knew from experience that the calm of the long, narrow reception area didn't begin to reflect the chaos behind the doors to either side of them.

  Nann quickly retwisted her brilliant red ponytail. "We got some overflow out of the wildfire north of Golden Gate Canyon, but only three scorched marmots. Lost pets include two cats out of the wildfire zone and a pup discovered at Little Bear that's so filthy I don't know what it is."

  "I'll do the bath after the feeding."

  Karita went about the basic chores that Nann needed help with, clucking to the kittens and puppies, scratching a proffered head through the cage when she could, and murmuring the simple little charm her grandmother had taught her for hopeful situations. All these creatures deserved a loving home and maybe they'd find one. Animal rescue could be very depressing, but it had its rewards, too. Just like working with people, she thought.

  There was also no money in it, so she took her pay in the form of licks, purrs and wagging tails. Some people unwound in front of the television, but she found feeding the critters extremely relaxing—not even conversation was required. The day she had stopped in with a wounded and half-frozen pygmy owl she'd found tangled in a fence had been a very good day indeed. She and Nann had hit it off immediately, and the shelter was only a mile from her little house on Bear Creek.

  The new dog looked as if it had been left to die in a pool of oily mud, but it didn't act injured. Had it seemed unwell, Nann would have reluctantly sent it on to Animal Control, where its fate would have been quickly decided. There were gleaming brown eyes underneath the muck and it—she, rather—was very docile. No tags or ear tattoo, but until recently she had obviously worn a collar.

  Patience combined with gentle, pest-killing shampoo revealed a brown coat that curled tightly, once dry, and nothing worse physically than malnutrition, worn footpads and general shock. Nann would check ears and nose and so forth, but they looked clean to Karita, and the dog was mercifully free of ticks and fleas. For a large dog, it had a lean, light frame. The right rear leg was shorter than the others, but that was probably a birth defect. She suspected it was a mixed breed, and it obviously wasn't show quality. Someone's well-loved and well-cared-for pet had gone astray, no doubt about it. It happily ate some dry food from her hand and licked her fingers very thoroughly.

  She put her nose to the dog's for just a moment and whispered a few phrases of Gran's Elvish, then added, "If you don't have a home you're coming home with me."

  Nann leaned in the doorway of the shampoo room. "You've got the girl looking so much better."

  "She's an old girl." Karita gently ruffed the soft ears. "Maybe she got dumped because of some big vet bills. She seems too sensible to run away from home."

  Nann stooped to join in the petting, eliciting a hearty tail thumping on the wet tile. Animals went euphoric around Nann, and Karita had seen more than one woman do the same. "I'd be surprised if she got dumped, because I think she's a doodle."

  "A doodle," Karita echoed. "Okay, you got me. What's a doodle?"

  "Specifically, this looks like a cocoadoodle." Nann's fingers explored the dog's chest in the guise of more scratching. "A cross between purebreds—a labrador and a standard poodle. If her coat was more gold, she'd be a standard poodle and golden retriever mix—a goldendoodle. All the positive traits of the people-loving breeds combined with a poodle's low-allergen count. Oh, aren't you sweet, yes, you're a doll," she cooed. The dog's noises of ecstasy grew louder.

  "So, she's probably valuable."

  "Not in the sense of breeding stock, not with the leg. Doodles aren't accidents, though, and they are great family pets. She's so comfortable with being handled, I'd say this lovely old girl has a wonderful home, and if we hit the local breeder sites with a photo we'll get the word out in time to find her family."

  "Oh," Karita said, deeply pleased, "a happy ending."

  "Yeah. We get them sometimes. And those malamutes have also gone to their new home. It's a good week." Nann leaned closer to let the doodle lick her face. It did so with such alacrity that Karita was surprised that Nann's abundance of freckles didn't come off. "You are pure love, oh yes you are."

  Pure love, Karita thought, as she drove home a few hours later. You could get that from a dog more reliably than from people. Her hands still smelled of the lavender gel she'd applied to the doodle's curls, and she'd left Nann posting notes to the local breeders. Happy endings—it had been another good day indeed.

  The Subaru's tires thumped over the bridge shared by the dozen or so small houses on this stretch of Bear Creek. Though it hadn't flooded since she'd moved in, she'd been warned that finding herself trapped on one side of the creek or the other was a possibility in the spring. Douglas fir and blue spruce crowded along the bank, but were more sparse around the homes and outbuildings, leaving room for sunlight to warm the yards. She looped up the driveway to her own little house. The garage door opener didn't work and the doors stuck, but it was all hers, courtesy of her grandmother's will.

  Though it was August, the night temperatures up the mountain made evening fires not uncommon, and she loved the hint of wood smoke in the air. She paused for a moment before pulling the garage door down, gazing up at the diamond canopy of stars over her head. Gran would have said that night was a black veil the angels dropped to let God's creatures get some rest from the glory of heaven. The stars, Karita, my little elf, she'd say, were just holes poked in by the angels so nobody worried that heaven had disappeared.

  She made her way through the utility room and into the kitchen, pausing to smooch her index finger and press the kiss to a photo of her parents, timelessly caught with baby Karita on their laps. After she'd tossed a load of laundry into the washing machine and brewed a nice cup of peppermint tea, she cuddled on the old divan under a light throw. At this altitude the night air was delightful. A great deal of it came in around the windows, however, which was a source of concern.

  She selected solo flute music for her evening, read a little more of a slow but interesting mystery, then made a list of the things she needed to do tomorrow. Replacing the washer on the kitchen faucet was a priority and she was going to try her hand at weather-stripping. The little house wasn't very tight—it had originally been somebody's summer home away from Denver's heat and crowds. Gran's sister had bought it several decades ago, left it to Gran, and Gran had last visited it some ten to twelve years ago, when she'd inherited it. Now people lived in the neighborhood year ‘round and Kittredge was considered not a bad commute into Denver. Neglect had taken its toll on the structure, though. Last winter she'd occasionally had to break ice on dishes left in the kitchen sink.

  After a quick, hot shower, she pulled on an old soft T-shirt and made one last cup of tea. She liked living here, very much. Maybe they should have moved here when Gran had inherited the place, getting Gran out of the humidity of Minneapolis and into dry air and the three hundred days of sunshine a year. It would have been better for her lungs, maybe.

  If they'd moved here so many things would have been different. She might have liked college more here
, instead of giving up midway, cashing out with a two-year degree and joining up with the Peace Corps. If she'd been home she might have realized Gran's health was failing, but instead she'd been off teaching basic English in Vietnam. She certainly wouldn't have been on that stretch of crowded freeway when a beautiful, accomplished businesswoman was fiddling with her cell phone instead of keeping her eyes on the road. Had they moved here she'd have never met Mandy over a fender bender. She'd never have mistaken an accident for fate at work.

  Well, it just sucked that whenever she was in a quiet place lately, thoughts of Mandy cropped up. What was that about? She chased her tea with a chocolate wafer, brushed her teeth and tumbled into bed, glad of the flannel sheets and down comforter.

  She'd gone quite a while without thinking about Mandy, what with the move, finding a new job and the absorption of her time spent at the shelter and the rescue. It had taken a while to get settled, to feel like her life had a rhythm that made sense. She had everything arranged just as she liked. So why was Mandy popping into her head?

  Emily would say Karita was classifying memories and letting them go, a useful coping skill. It didn't feel all that useful. At the moment it hurt quite a lot. She'd seen cruelty and viciousness in the world. She'd joined the Corps to try to change some of it. Bad people did bad things. Evil came from hate. Good people did good things, and nothing bad ever came from love. She had loved Mandy. So she hadn't believed Mandy had meant her ultimatum, not at first

  "Gran could die while I'm traveling with you," Karita had explained as they had drifted in the afterglow of passion. The safety and comfort of Mandy's arms had helped ease the ache in her heart after the talk she'd had that morning with Gran's doctor. "She took me in when I was two, and gave me everything she could. I can't leave her now that the doctors say the time is so short." She had been certain Mandy would understand the need to postpone the trip.

  But Mandy had gotten out of bed, saying, "If you loved me, you'd go."

  For a moment the words just didn't make sense, as if Mandy had lapsed into a foreign language. Karita had lain there, her face still smelling of Mandy, of lovemaking, and struggled to decipher the words. "Are you saying that I have to choose? Between my love for you and my love for my grandmother?"

  "You said I was the most important thing in your life. If you're backing out of our vacation after all that planning, it doesn't sound like I come first to you." Mandy kept her back turned as she pulled on her bathrobe.

  Still not sure she understood, Karita had repeated, "Are you asking me to choose between my love for you and my love for my dying grandmother? Who has maybe two months to live? Are you saying you won't wait, that you'll go without me? You can't wait two months to see Switzerland so I can take care of something I need to do? I don't understand."

  She still didn't understand. Karita played the bitter scene over in her head, trying to figure out where it had all gone wrong. How could love, all that love, have been based on misperceptions? Had they been doomed from the start because they both wanted the other to be someone she wasn't? If Mandy had understood who Karita was, she'd have known without a doubt that Karita would see her grandmother through to the end. If Mandy had been the woman Karita had thought she was, Mandy would have respected no other choice. But the Mandy standing there with that cold, stony look on her face, her hair still mussed from sex, had turned into a stranger.

  Mandy had watched Karita get dressed, saying nothing.

  "I'm only asking for two months," Karita had finally said. "I love you. But being there for Gran is the only right thing to do."

  "I was looking forward to introducing you to so many people. We make such a beautiful couple. And you're not a home health nurse. I don't see how you can help."

  "I'm not talking about just nursing her. I'm talking about reading to her, holding her hand, reminding her of happy times. Being there."

  "I need you to be there for me. You've been really distracted lately and I had a feeling you were going to bail on me, just like everybody else."

  Pulling the covers up to her chin, Karita tried to turn off the movie in her head before it got to the bitter end. Even now the loss brought tears to her eyes. But her brain wouldn't cooperate and she could hear herself inviting Mandy's final blow.

  "If you thought I was going to bail on you, what was tonight about?" She had gestured at the bed.

  Mandy had shrugged. "It'll be hard to find someone as enthusiastic as you are. You might be a fake, but you're great in bed."

  Even the most casual encounters in the Corps hadn't made Karita feel as cheap as she had at that moment. She had exhaled as if she'd been punched in the stomach and said, without thinking, "Some elf I turned out to be."

  Mandy had laughed. Worse even than the broken heart was Karita's broken faith that nothing cruel could ever come from anything offered or received with love, and Mandy had shattered every bit of that faith by saying, "And you know what? That elf thing is really stupid. You need to grow up."

  She had numbly gathered her things and believed that in the morning Mandy would have thought it over. Instead, a messenger with a box had arrived, and in it were her pajamas and the contents of the drawer she'd had in Mandy's dresser, her toothbrush, her shampoo.

  She dried an errant tear on the pillowcase. She knew in her heart that caring for Gran through her final days had been the grown-up thing to do. She was not a fake for thinking so. The last words Gran had spoken that made sense had been, "Karita, my elf, you're a good girl."

  It had been a beautiful lie to tell a little girl who badly needed to believe something in her life was special. Even when part of her accepted her elven status was no more real than the Tooth Fairy, little Karita, deep inside, had gone on cherishing the idea that she could do just a little bit of magic. Mandy's derision of that innocent hope tarnished it. Though she was content with her life, was doing the things she loved and thought important, she could still hear fake. Truthfully, when Marty fussed at her about her future it felt like he, too, thought she was headed in the wrong direction with her life.

  She burrowed her head into the pillow and consciously put Mandy out of her thoughts by thinking about the events of her day. People she'd coaxed a smile from, the animals she'd nurtured. Recollections of the soft fur and liquid eyes adoring every moment with her chased Mandy away, at least for the rest of the night.

  If the lovely doodle dog had a family it would be another happy ending. Happy endings were real. It also meant her magic streak would be intact—so far every animal she'd promised to take home had been quickly claimed or adopted out. So maybe she wasn't an elf, but that didn't mean magic couldn't happen. The Mandys and what-was-her-name—the CJs of the world— they were the Assassins of Magic, and she was avoiding them all from now on.

  "Now that's a downpour," Burnett said, watching CJ shake water off her umbrella.

  "You can say that again. We got through touring the site just in time. Thank goodness for the Trailblazer's four-wheel drive or we'd still be stuck in the mud. It's in the upper eighties out there, too. I'll be glad when September gets here."

  "Yeah, but after September comes October. Blizzards, snow, shoveling, that sort of thing."

  CJ, looked up from wiping off her handbag to give Burnett a sour look. "And your point is?"

  "My point is that I'd really like your advice on a client. Do you have time?"

  "Sure." She fished in her handbag for her BlackBerry and pulled out an unfamiliar bundle of papers—damn, the stuff from traffic court, and it was two days later. Tick tock, she thought, she had to get in touch with one of these groups right away. She kept the papers out of sight, though. No reason to advertise her brush with the law. "Jerry's not available?"

  "Um, I, well, I want to be lead on this."

  "Got it." The kid wanted help, but he didn't want whatever connection he was working to get taken away from him so he ended up with a lowly co-commission again. Jerry would steal the contact. She wasn't sure it was a good thing that
the kid thought she wouldn't. She dug in her bag again. "Hang on just a minute."

  She hurried out to Tre's desk with a copy of a Vietnamese community newspaper she'd run across coming out of her meeting this morning. "I'm sorry it got wet. I went by color of the masthead. This is the one that's the new start up, isn't it?"

  Tr e took the paper from her, his eager eyes already scanning the headlines enscribed in his native tongue. "Yes—thank you so much, CJ. I couldn't find it this week."

  She gave Tr e a friendly wave and went back to Burnett. "What can I do for you?"

  He sat down in her office chair with a sigh of relief, loosening his tie. "I was at a networking deal, some college thing, and I overheard someone talking about looking into the old Comstock property for a potential ground floor eatery. Upscale place, new western cuisine, new west decor, all that."

  "Why the Comstock? The Prospector is a better location, better parking. Higher tenant upgrade allowance. You could undercut the Comstock by fifteen percent. Our client is dying to get that kind of place in there, if they've got a decent business plan."

  "That's what I thought. But how do I approach the guy? He wasn't talking to me and I kind of crashed the event, not like I went to that school, I just knew…" He looked guilty.

  "Out with it." CJ gave him a stern look.

  "A guy who met with Jerry last week was on his way out of the meeting and I heard him on his cell talking about this get-together, how good it would be to get the alumni together, that sort of thing. And I thought this guy has got to have friends just like him, guys with growing businesses, and maybe I would just pick up a few names and I could cold call them later."

  "That was a long shot." But not the worst thinking in the world. Burnett had a brain behind the liquid brown eyes.

  "It's all a long shot until you get a couple of deals down. So I showed up in the bar where they were meeting ahead of their dinner, just kind of mingled and listened."