Show and Tell

by Amy Shojai

  But until the insurance claims processed, she'd put up with being an uncomfortable guest in her parent's home. Mom treated her like a fifteen-year-old again, before all the bad stuff happened. But she’d put up with it, for now. Mom couldn’t compare to the conflict she’d already survived.

  These days, September walked eggshells without Shadow to keep her grounded. Surprisingly, she’d suffered no flashbacks. Stress and memories triggered the attacks, and both were a package deal with her family, another good reason for a fresh start. Even the rescued animals conjured memories. That's why she'd turned down the offer to take BeeBo's dogs.

  After the news broke, pet lovers rallied to adopt the furry victims, including Kelvin's sweet dog Hercules. September wanted to scream when they found Sunny two days ago trying to sneak across the Mexican border. It wasn't fair a murderer survived when Shadow had perished saving innocent lives.

  Sunny even tried to blame Kelvin for BeeBo's death, and might have gotten away with it, if not for the torn claw festering in her neck. September had no doubt forensics would confirm the claw came from the kitten BeeBo rescued. Fuzzit now lived the life of Riley as Doc Eugene's clinic cat.

  Boris Kitty and his person celebrated a joyous reunion filmed by local TV news crews, and started a blog featuring the hero cat. Delays continued over the spotted Pit Bull puppy’s adoption, though a waiting list clamored for the honor. The police considered him evidence. Samples of his blood, sent to the Pit Bull DNA database, would trace his bloodlines back to breeders and others for prosecution in the sordid dogfight business. A forensic veterinary team continued to collect evidence at the barn.

  Her phone rang, and she checked before answering. Parker Belk again, the orchestra conductor from the theater. She sighed and let it go to voice mail. She'd already told him she wasn't interested. Thankfully, the other cellist recovered enough to play the rest of the Secret Garden run. She’d pick up Harmony later. Macy and her cello were the only two things of value she had from her old life. Time to start a new one. Maybe even tonight.

  The front door binged bringing a warm glow of anticipation. She handed Macy to Doc Eugene as Combs appeared.

  "Ready?" He crossed to shake the veterinarian’s hand before turning back to her. "I like your hair. Different, but I like it."

  Mom insisted on a makeover: hair, makeup, the works, even a new outfit with a tailored emerald blouse to match her eyes, and a slinky white skirt. But September drew the line at dying the white streak. It looked even more pronounced with the short hairstyle.

  September blushed when Combs put an arm around her waist, and brushed her cheek with a kiss. But she liked it. "Yes, I'm ready." They had a long overdue Valentine's make-up date.

  She'd promised herself she'd smile and act happy, despite her aching sorrow. For Combs. He deserved that, and she did care for him. Loved him, in fact. She had a hard time saying so, or showing it. Tonight, though, she'd show him. Or try to. Wasn't sure she knew how. She blushed again.

  "I've got news first. Not to spoil the mood or anything." Combs scratched Macy's ears, and the cat purred. "We found Larry Pitts."

  "Who?" Doc Eugene leaned forward.

  "September found him first, I think." Combs turned to her. "Remember when Shadow tracked Kinsler?"

  "Oh my God. The hand." The dog had perched on top of a body. How had she forgotten?

  "That was Larry Pitts. Young high school kid, only seventeen. Found his car swamped not too far from his body. He had scratches on his back and neck consistent with dog claws." He rubbed his face. "Haven't told Melinda yet, not sure what to say. It's different, when you have kids."

  September touched his arm. "I know. And I'm sorry."

  Doc Eugene frowned. "But you don't think Kinsler—"

  "No, he's too little. Larry had been missing before Kinsler went AWOL." Combs snorted. "Damn dog still goes nuts for the squirrels, but now we've Kinsler-proofed the fence." He cleared his throat. "We also found the Doctor." He nodded at September. "Just like you said. Dead."

  "Good." Another chapter closed. "Where?" She wouldn’t apologize for being glad.

  "About six miles from the barn." Combs kept petting Macy as he spoke. "Inside a floating dumpster, an appropriate coffin for a very bad piece of garbage. He'd been mauled." He avoided meeting September’s eyes. "No sign of the dog. Or dogs. Forensics will figure it out."

  "Shadow saved me. He died for me. But he didn't kill the Doctor." She stuck out her chin. "I'm glad that evil man got what he deserved. Poetic justice, if one of his canine victims sent him to hell." She sounded like a monster, and for once, she didn't care. "Did you find the drugs?"

  He scowled. "Not a trace. Must have all floated away when the loft collapsed. I'm thankful you and the kids were well away by then."

  She forced a smile. "I'm ready if you are. Let's go."

  September liked the weight of his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against Combs as they walked together to his car. "Where are we going?"

  "To a secret garden." He smiled, and took her hand, lacing their fingers together before opening the car door for her. He waited as she pulled her long skirt inside. "I hope you like it, that it's okay." He shut the door, and cracked his knuckles.

  He's as nervous as me. Somehow, that made September relax.

  They drove in companionable silence until she recognized the route. When he turned on Rabbit Run Road, she finally spoke. "My house? But there's nothing left. You said so."

  He shrugged. "There's some of it left. Enough of the important parts, anyway." He cleared his throat. "I know with everything that's happened, you've got no choice except to move forward. To do that, you have to start somewhere. Right? Put the past in perspective so you can build on it and make a new future?" He rubbed his face. "Hell, I don't know what I'm saying. Maybe this was a bad idea."

  Although puzzled, she reassured him. "It's fine. I want to go, need to see. Only I wasn't planning on it tonight." She reviewed her outfit, carefully chosen for a romantic evening, and sighed. September steeled herself, but still wasn't ready.

  The old Victorian had stood for over a hundred years. Previous owners let it go to seed. It had been the designated witchy house when she was a kid, but had always intrigued her and made her sad, like an old dog once loved and now neglected. So, when September returned to Heartland last year, she'd bought the place, determined to restore it to its former glory.

  In the process of creating her own personal safe haven, she'd created a gorgeous, glorious prison. The tornado had torn away the locks, ripped bars off stained glass windows, and destroyed the fancy security system. Only the shell of the haunted house remained. She wondered if ghosts ever stopped haunting the living.

  They drove through the broken front gate, pulled into the circle drive and stopped. Combs waited, silent.

  She took a big breath, smiled at him and pushed open the car door. "Since we're here, why not look, right?"

  He got out, and hurried to meet her. "It's not all wrecked." He took her hand, and tugged her across the brick sidewalk past the missing carriage house to the back of the house. "Wait." He dropped her hand, hurried over to the damaged wall, and flipped a switch. Outside lights lit the back garden.

  September’s mouth fell open. A gentle breeze moved dozens of wind chimes, creating fairy music. A stained glass table from her kitchen now sat on the grass, and held two place settings. A picnic basket waited for them, and a small stained glass lamp shined a cheery kaleidoscope on the brick walkway. "I can't believe anything survived."

  "Like I said, not everything was trashed. Your brother's lamp and the table were untouched. The living room, too. The piano didn't make it, though. Sorry."

  "Oh my heavens, the roses. That perfume. I wanted to rip them out. But now, oh my." She walked quickly to a busy plant covered with tiny pink blossoms, and another nearby boasting white starbursts. "The rain, all that cursed rain. It brought the roses back to life."

  "Ripped some away, too." Combs pointed out sever
al bare spots sandblasted by the storm. "And there." He pointed up, and she saw a bright rambler transplanted to the eaves, spilling a profusion of butter-colored petals in the wind.

  Awed, she sighed. "That's Fortune's Double Yellow. Way too early for it to bloom."

  Combs smiled. "Texas roses are tenacious; they bloom and grow wherever they land."

  "Guess the bare spots make room for the new. For the future, maybe?"

  He smiled, and held out his hand. "There's food. Don't worry, it's catered, I wouldn't dare try to cook. But it smells pretty yummy."

  Before she'd taken two steps toward the table, a sound stopped her cold. "Did you hear that?"

  "Hear what?" He held the chair for her, but cocked his head. "September?"

  It came again, a soughing carried on the wind she felt more than heard. She took another step toward him. "You must hear that. Please, tell me I'm not crazy." Her breath quickened. Please, not now. But it didn't feel like any flashback she'd had.

  "Are you okay? I'm here." Combs wrapped her in his arms. And then he stiffened when it came again.

  "You heard it too. You did." And she tore out of his arms, running, running, stumbling, getting up and racing toward the sound, the whimpering cry, the voice she'd heard every night in her dreams for a week, certain it would never come again. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

  Combs raced with her, matching her step for step, their breath as one. There. Now louder. He stopped when they saw him. Combs let her go on by herself.

  Shadow stood on the other side of the garden fence. Covered in caked mud from paw to shoulder, muzzle and neck stained with blood, she could count his ribs. He couldn't get through to reach her, but tried with all his might to force his way in. His voice nearly gone, he still warbled his happiness with garbled, heart-breaking gasps.

  September dropped to her knees as close as she could get. "Oh baby-dog, my sweet boy." She pushed her arms through the fence, trying to hold him, to touch him, but the bars kept them apart. Her hand came back red with blood. "He's hurt."

  Combs grabbed her waist and lifted her, and she struggled. "No, no, no I can't leave him; we have to get him help." And he set her gently down on the other side of the fence.

  Then Shadow was in her arms, burrowing his head into her neck, licking her face, tail bruising her—oh, bliss. And Combs had leaped the fence.

  "I'm not leaving either of you." His strong arms encircled them both. "You're my family. This is where we begin."

  Chapter 50

  Nikki hurried to the mailbox. It would come today, it had to come today. Kid Kewl told her exactly what to do.

  Her parents had been scared at first, then madder than she'd ever seen. She couldn't explain why, either, and that made it worse. At least she hadn't been driving when the cops pulled them over. Melinda being a cop's kid meant she embarrassed her dad. That couldn’t be good.

  At first, Mom said Nikki couldn't volunteer at the vet clinic anymore. She thought she'd die. Nikki called up Doc Eugene to tell him, and instead Robin got on the phone and gave her what for. Doc Eugene must have found out, because then he came over and talked to her folks, said how much he depended on her, especially now that Rotten Robin was gone. Wow. How lucky, to have a friend like him, otherwise, she'd still be grounded until she was old, like thirty or something.

  But after today, it'd be worth all the upset. Between the money they'd found in Sunny's truck, and the cash Steven found in the Doctor's car, her parents would be rich.

  It made her guilty the others insisted she take it all. Melinda called it blood money, and said she couldn't touch it because it could get her dad in hellacious trouble if somebody found out. Tracy and Lenny only wanted pills. Nikki guessed that's what happened when you got addicted.

  She could care less if the money had blood on it, or not. It spent the same. But Nikki knew her parents would question where it came from. Kid Kewl had promised to help. So, she asked him what to do.

  "Send a little in a letter,

  And that riddle makes it better.

  A bit won't alarm or do any harm.

  A little at a time will be just fine.”

  So she decided to mail cash, a few hundred dollars at a time, to her parents. She used Doc Eugene's printer to address a bunch of envelopes. And every couple of weeks, she'd stick one in the mail from the clinic, addressed to her folks.

  Kid Kewl said he read the idea in a fiction book. He must be really smart. She saw the mail truck coming down the street. Now, she and her parents wouldn't be a charity case anymore. Heck, they could even give to charity if they wanted to.

  ***

  Tracy ran and jumped into Daddy's arms and hugged him tight-tight-tight. Too bad he still acted sad all the time, and she wondered when Mommy would come home.

  He hadn't asked how she got so many bottles of magic pills. A bunch spilled out somewhere during the adventure, and the police people tried to take them from her. So, she made lots of noise and screamed and Grooby might even have bit someone. But they let her keep two bottles.

  Kid Kewl said it was enough. He said twice-exceptional kids like them made exceptional things happen. She liked being a 2e kid.

  Tracy excelled at numbers the same way Lenny aced maps and other kids shined at different stuff like peeping inside long-distance computers, tracking phone calls and postal codes, making art and singing, and bunches of other things Tracy didn't understand. Twice-exceptional, her teacher said. But that was okay. A single kid alone got ignored. But all together they fixed things for their parents and for themselves.

  Grownups said she and Lenny and the others were different than everybody else like it was a bad thing, but Tracy knew better. We're exactly the same, only different. With their magic pills, they'd still be twice-exceptional kewl-kids, too. Tracy couldn't wait.

  Daddy set her down without a word, and walked to the clock on the counter. It had stopped. He wound it up tight, so it made the tick-tick-tick sound she liked. "Time to take your medicine, Tracy."

  She smiled, and ran to him and opened her mouth. Instead of one pill every twelve hours, she’d take 1/2 pill every eight hours. She'd number-juggled the days-minutes-seconds for new medicine times. Before long, she'd need less and less. And soon, very soon, no more pills at all. Kid Kewl had everything planned.

  She still hadn't told Daddy about the secret. The adventure had barely begun.

  Have you read the other books in the September Day series? Ask your favorite booksellers for your copies today!

  LOST AND FOUND (Book #1)

  HIDE AND SEEK (Book #2)

  SHOW AND TELL (Book #3)

  FIGHT OR FLIGHT (Book #4)

  ...fills in the blanks of Shadow's missing week from SHOW AND TELL

  When a violent flood sweeps Shadow away, he must save himself—and others—to find his way home.

  A THREAT FROM THE PAST seeks deadly revenge.

  A MENACING SECRET terrorizes children.

  AND A LOST DOG braves fire...to find true love.

  FIGHT OR FLIGHT (excerpt) CHAPTER 1: SHADOW

  The flash flood swirled Shadow down, down, and scraped him head over paws against the muddy bottom before thrusting him up in a stomach-wrenching rush. He gasped, and his yelp became a strangled gargle when water smothered his cry. Deafened by the roar, scent blinded and sight dimmed, Shadow struggled to tell down from up, wind from flood. Forelegs churned the water to dingy froth, and he struggled to keep his black shepherd’s muzzle above the surface.

  The night’s frigid air set fire to the shepherd’s flayed cheek. It would be easy to give up and let the tide take him, and erase his pain. But Shadow had to return to his family. To his-boy, Steven. And to September. Especially to September. She needed him. And he needed her.

  He gasped, this time without choking, and snatched another two breaths without wasting further air on fruitless wails. Shadow timed gasps to match the roller coaster surge that swept him along before he fetched up hard against a floating tree.

  Sha
dow yelped when the trunk caught his tender middle where the boy-thief had kicked him. He thrashed and managed to scrabble a toe hold across one limb. Weakened by his recent battle with the bad-man and now the wicket current, Shadow couldn’t pull his 80-plus weight any higher. He clung to the limb while the flood snatched at a good-dog’s fur and tried to swallow him whole.

  One with the detritus, Shadow caught his breath as he hitched a ride on the log that now took the brunt of the flood’s abuse. Neither the sting of his scraped cheek, fire on his neck, nor his throbbing gut could compare to the empty ache inside. He’d left his family behind, without a good-dog to protect them. The bad-man could return to finish what he’d started. September couldn’t protect Steven or even herself, not without Shadow by her side.

  On the bank ahead, Shadow spied a car. He barked for help. Cars meant people, and people helped good-dogs. But roaring water swept his cry away. He barked with anguished frustration when the women stared back at him, without any offer to help. Their scent shouted names louder than any human scream—Robin Gillette and Sunny Babcock—before the tree floated him out of sight.

  The log he rode caught on something below the water’s surface, and slowly spun in the current. Shadow managed to lunge enough to pull himself onto the trunk, when the hissing sound stopped him dead. He glanced up, and then ducked the flashing feline paw that batted his ear, and nearly plunged backwards into the flood. Blinking to clear muddy water from his eyes, he squinted to see three rain-soaked cats, one within nose-touch distance.

  Had the furious black cloud thrown them into the tree? Maybe they climbed to escape the water. Dogs couldn’t climb trees, or Shadow would’ve scrambled higher to join them. The tree bobbled in the water, and he adjusted his grip, amazed how easily the cats kept their balance despite the shifting perch.