Hideaway (The Women of Vino and Veritas)

by Rachel Lacey

  “I like dogs,” she said. The afternoon sun filtered through the trees overhead, casting dappled flecks of light over her skin.

  I knew every step of this trail like the back of my hand. I knew every tree root and rock that bisected the path and every seasonal nuance to the scent of plants and earth along the way. But there was something new on the breeze today, a vaguely fruity fragrance that had to be Phoebe, her perfume or maybe her shampoo. Whatever it was, it was messing with my head.

  Ahead, the trail curved sharply to the left. If we followed it, we’d wind up at the field. Instead, I waved a hand, indicating for Phoebe to follow me into the woods to our right. “If we cut through here, we’ll come out on the public trail.”

  “You’re sure you know where you’re going?” she asked before shaking her head. “What am I saying? You’ve been hiking these woods your whole life. Lead the way.”

  “It’s not far.” I tromped over the leaf-strewn earth. “There’s a scenic lookout up ahead, if you want to go that far.”

  “Sure,” Phoebe agreed. She ducked beneath a low-hanging branch as Minnie trotted beside her.

  I looked down at Blue, who walked quietly at my side. He was a quiet dog in general, anxious and withdrawn from whatever he’d gone through before he was surrendered to the shelter, but he looked relaxed out here in the woods, tongue out and tail up.

  “Why does he stay on leash while Minnie runs loose?” Phoebe asked.

  “Minnie’s my dog. I’ve had her since she was a puppy and done extensive recall training with her, so I know I can let her run loose in the woods and she’ll come when I call her,” I told Phoebe. “Blue is my foster dog. He was only surrendered to the shelter a few weeks ago, and he’s still extremely nervous.”

  “Aw,” Phoebe said, giving the dog a sympathetic look.

  “There’s no telling how far he’d run if I let him off leash, and honestly, he probably feels more secure wearing it for now. He was so scared at the shelter, just shaking all the time, so I brought him home to help him get settled and gain the confidence he needs to go to a permanent home.”

  “Do you do that a lot?” she asked. “Bring dogs home from the shelter?”

  “Yeah, I foster when I can, especially when we have a dog that could really blossom with a little extra care. My lease only allows me to have two dogs, though, so I can only foster one at the time since I have Minnie.”

  “Which is why you wanted to buy my grandma’s cabin,” Phoebe observed.

  “One of the reasons.”

  There was a stream ahead, separating Margery’s property from the public land. Minnie leaped across it without hesitation, still with the stick in her mouth. “Stay, Minnie,” I called, and she stopped, looking over her shoulder as she waited for us to catch up.

  There were plenty of flat rocks in the stream that we could use to cross. Phoebe went first, sticking her arms out to the side for balance as she tiptoed from rock to rock. I followed, while Blue sloshed through the water, pausing for a drink. He slurped noisily, drawing a laugh from Phoebe.

  I kept my eyes on him, ignoring the tug of yearning I felt at the sound of her laugh. It reminded me of afternoons just like this, afternoons when she and I explored these woods together, so caught up in each other, a bear could have walked right past us and we wouldn’t have noticed.

  On the other side of the stream, we joined up with the public hiking trail, and I directed Phoebe to the left. A few minutes later, we came to the scenic overlook. The Parks & Rec department had constructed a wooden gazebo where people could sit and look out at the mountains beyond.

  “Oh, I remember this place,” Phoebe said as she walked into the gazebo. “You and I used to come here sometimes. I never could find it on my own.”

  “Yeah, we did.” I walked to the railing and looked out at the hilltops visible in the distance. “Sometimes I bring a book out here with me and just hide from the world.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  “Not so different from why you’re here in Vermont,” I said.

  “It’s exactly why I’m here.” Blue walked over to sniff her leg, and she sat on the bench to pet him. His tail wagged slowly at first, picking up speed as he relaxed into her touch. Phoebe looked up at me, eyes bright. “He likes me.”

  “Yeah, he does.” I watched as she rubbed Blue behind his ears, talking softly to him. Soon the dog had rested his shoulder against her thigh, gazing up at her adoringly. “You’re good with him.”

  “I’ve always liked dogs,” she said. “I’ve just never had one of my own.”

  “Would you like to?” I asked, because an idea had just occurred to me, a way to get Violet out of the shelter before she gave birth. “I mean, just temporarily. Would you consider taking in a foster dog?”

  “I don’t know,” Phoebe said, gazing at Blue. “Maybe if it was someone as quiet and sweet as Blue.”

  “I have a dog who needs to get out of the shelter ASAP, and I don’t have any foster homes open to take her. She’s very quiet and sweet. She’s also very pregnant.”

  “Pregnant?” Phoebe’s head popped up. “No way. I don’t know the first thing about pregnant dogs…or puppies.”

  “I know. It’s not ideal, but I’m at my wit’s end trying to find someone who can take her, and I’ve got to get her out of the shelter before she gives birth. Even if you took her in temporarily, it would be a huge help.”

  “Why can’t you take her?” she asked.

  “Because my lease only allows two dogs.”

  Phoebe rubbed a hand down Blue’s side. “What if I take him so you can foster the pregnant dog?”

  I shook my head. “I can’t have puppies. I’ve been over it with my landlord several times already over the years. She won’t budge on it. It’s one of the reasons I need my own place.”

  “I really can’t, Taylor,” Phoebe said. “I’m busy fixing up the cabin, and I’m leaving in a few weeks, not to mention puppies sound like a lot of work…and a lot of mess I don’t need while I’m trying to get the place ready for renters.”

  Those were all good points, but I couldn’t help feeling like this was somehow meant to be. “Just drop by on Monday and meet her?”

  “It’s not a good idea,” Phoebe said.

  “You’re probably right, but it’s the best idea I have at the moment.”

  “Taylor…”

  “Stop by and meet her,” I said, hoping I wasn’t being too pushy, but I was desperate to get Violet out of the shelter. “That’s all I’m asking.”

  She sighed. “I guess I could do that, but I’m not promising to take her home.”

  7

  Phoebe

  I sat back on my heels to survey my work. This morning, I’d ripped up all the carpet in the living room, and that had been the easy part. My dad had offered to hire a contractor to install the laminate flooring he’d ordered, but I was trying to do things on my own for a change. I wasn’t crazy about having a cabin full of contractors, but I might have to amend my opinion on that, because home renovations were a lot harder than I’d expected.

  At any rate, I needed to get cleaned up and drive over to the animal shelter to meet the dog Taylor wanted me to foster. Bringing home a pregnant dog was a terrible idea, but maybe there was a different dog I could foster instead. Since I couldn’t have pets in my condo in Boston, this might be my one chance to be a temporary dog owner.

  I went down the hall to the guest bedroom, where the photo of me and Taylor as little girls still sat on the dresser. When we hiked together on Saturday, I was reminded of how close we used to be and how much I missed her, and now I found myself hoping we’d find a way to rekindle our friendship.

  The circumstances behind my return to Vermont well and truly sucked, but maybe some good would come out of the trip too, the chance to make amends with Taylor, to rediscover my love of music, and to spend time in the places where I’d spent some of the happiest times of my childhood.

  I went into the bathroom for a quick
shower, then dressed in jeans and a yellow linen top. I put the address for the animal shelter into the GPS in my phone while I was still here in the cabin, allowing it to route my way while I was still connected to the Wi-Fi, as I’d been rudely reminded over the weekend that I didn’t get much cell service up here.

  Then I went outside and climbed into my car, blasting an upbeat playlist while I drove and singing along at the top of my lungs. Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a small white building. The sign in front read Chittenden County Animal Shelter.

  “This is a mistake,” I murmured as I shut off the car. Yeah, I loved dogs, and the idea of bringing one home to foster for a few weeks sounded kind of fun, but it was probably a lot more work than I had time for right now. The truth was, I wouldn’t be here at all if I didn’t feel I owed Taylor.

  I walked to the front door and pulled it open, finding myself in a wood-paneled reception area. A corkboard to my left was covered with photos of dogs, cats, and other animals posing with the people I presumed had adopted them. There was no one behind the desk, so I went down the hall, easily finding Taylor’s name on one of the doors. I tapped my knuckles against it.

  “Come in,” Taylor called.

  I pushed the door open to find Taylor at her desk with glasses perched on her nose, giving her an adorably studious look. I only got a glimpse of her before Minnie came barreling toward me, barking happily as she planted her front paws on my jeans.

  “Minnie, down,” Taylor admonished, and the dog dropped to all fours, tail wagging as she looked up at me.

  “I’m happy to see you too,” I told her as I gave her a chin rub. “And you too, Blue,” I said as I caught sight of the smaller dog in a crate in the corner. He lifted his head to look at me, quiet as ever.

  “Thanks for coming,” Taylor said as she took off her glasses and pushed back from the desk. She had on a black T-shirt with the shelter’s logo on the front and gray jeans.

  “Well, I’m not promising to foster the pregnant dog, but you might be able to convince me to take a lower-maintenance one,” I told her. “And I’m glad to see the shelter anyway. I’ve never been here before.”

  “I’m pretty proud of it,” Taylor said. “Jeri—the manager—and I have worked hard to make it as comfortable as possible for the animals who’re waiting for homes and a positive experience for potential adopters. Want a quick tour?”

  “I’d love one,” I told her.

  “Great, because I love giving them.” She smiled at me as she led the way out of her office, closing the door behind her to keep her dogs inside.

  I glimpsed Minnie’s tragic expression as the door closed in her face. “I think you just broke her heart.”

  “She’s dramatic,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes playfully. “But she can’t come into any of the areas where the adoptable pets are. It gets them all worked up.” She led the way back through the lobby to a door on the other side. When she opened it, a loud meow echoed through the room. “That’ll be Oscar. He likes attention.”

  I found myself facing a glass wall, through which I could see various cat perches and even an oversized armchair, currently occupied by an orange cat who was watching us intently. Taylor opened a glass door and let us into the cat enclosure. I counted about ten cats inside, all different sizes and colors.

  “Do they all get along?” I asked.

  “Right now, they do,” Taylor told me. “When we have someone who doesn’t like to hang out with the group, we have a couple of individual enclosures we can set up in the lobby so they can be the only cat in their space.”

  “How long have these guys been here?” I asked as the orange cat walked over to rub himself against my legs. I bent to pet him, and he immediately started purring.

  “That’s Oscar. He’s only been here since last week, and I don’t imagine he’ll stay long, for obvious reasons.” Taylor gave him an affectionate look as he pressed his head against my hand for a more vigorous chin rub. “Some of them have been here a few months or longer. And I’ve got five cats quarantined in back who just arrived from Georgia.”

  “Georgia?” I asked. That seemed like an awfully long way for cats to travel to a shelter.

  “There are a lot of overcrowded shelters in the South,” Taylor told me. “So I arrange to have adoptable animals transported here whenever we have space. It’s a win-win, because it frees up some much-needed space in overworked shelters, while it keeps my kennels full. Without our transport program, I would sometimes have more people looking to adopt than I do adoptable pets.”

  “Wow, I had no idea.”

  Taylor let us out of the cat enclosure and led the way into the next room, where a row of smaller cages had been lined up against the wall. “This is where our small animals stay. Right now, we have a pair of guinea pigs, but we also get a lot of rabbits and sometimes hamsters and mice too.”

  “Aw, look at them.” I peered into the first cage, where a pair of black-and-white guinea pigs sat munching on hay.

  “Their names are Cookie and Cupcake.”

  “Cute.” I followed her through another door, which led into a long, narrow hallway that immediately filled with a combination of barking, whines, and the clang of paws against the metal bars at the front of the kennels.

  “Give them a second, and they’ll settle down,” Taylor said. “It’s almost time for Alleya to come through for their afternoon walk, so they’re excited.”

  “Aw, this one looks so sad,” I said as I caught sight of a small dog with big ears looking up at me from the first kennel.

  “That’s Lola. Her owner gave her up a few weeks ago because her new boyfriend is allergic to dogs.”

  “Oh shit,” I said. “That’s terrible.”

  “It is, but we’ll find her a new home soon. The girl I want to introduce you to is at the end of the hall.” Taylor motioned for me to follow.

  “Doesn’t Lola need a foster home?” I asked as we walked. “She’s small and seems quiet. I could see having her around for a few weeks.”

  “She could benefit from a foster home,” Taylor said. “But she’s also extremely adoptable for the reasons you said—plus she’s adorable—so I’m hopeful we’ll be able to place her quickly, especially since she’s the first face potential adopters see when they come through the door.”

  “It sure worked on me,” I said.

  “These two came in last Wednesday,” Taylor told me. “Their owner passed away unexpectedly. Her sister is stopping by tomorrow to pick up Dexter, the male dog, but she didn’t feel comfortable taking both, especially since Violet’s about to give birth.”

  “Yeah, that part is what’s giving me pause too,” I said.

  “Believe me, if I had anyone else I could send her home with, I would.” Taylor stopped in front of the last kennel in the room. A brown dog with a wide face and a round, stocky body stared up at us. There was a white stripe running down her face, ending just above her nose.

  “Oh,” I said, taking an involuntary step backward. “Is she a pit bull?”

  “She is,” Taylor said, “but I promise you that’s not a bad thing.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “But they’re used in dog fights, aren’t they? I’ve heard they’re aggressive.”

  “They can be, but so can most breeds.” Taylor’s expression was neutral, but I knew her well enough to see her disappointment over my reaction to Violet’s breed. “They get a bad rap in the news, but this girl has already passed a rigorous behavioral assessment. She didn’t display any signs of aggression toward humans or other dogs, and she was a loving companion to an elderly woman until a few days ago.”

  “But she’s still about to give birth to a litter of puppies, which I know absolutely nothing about.” I didn’t like anything about the idea of bringing Violet home. Lola, on the other hand…

  “Let’s take her for a walk so you can get to know her a little better,” Taylor suggested, as stubborn as she was beautiful.

  “All right, but
for the record, I still think this is a bad idea.” I glanced into the kennel beside Violet’s, where another pit bull—this one white with brown markings—stared back at me, tail wagging. “Is he Violet’s baby daddy?”

  Taylor laughed. “No, he’s actually her brother. He was neutered, but their owner couldn’t afford Violet’s spay. She also didn’t always keep Violet on leash, and she apparently wandered off and got herself pregnant.”

  “Hm.” I watched with apprehension as Taylor opened the front of the kennel. She rubbed the dog and spoke gently to her before attaching Violet’s leash.

  “Here you go,” Taylor said, holding the leash out to me.

  I grasped it, but as I looked down at the dog, I was wishing I’d stayed home today. I could have already started putting down the new flooring—or given in and hired a contractor to do it for me. Violet walked out of her kennel, gazing up at me with brown eyes that appeared slightly too small for her face. Her tail gave a hesitant wag, as if she wasn’t any more enthusiastic about this walk than I was. Her belly was indeed swollen, but maybe not as much as I would have anticipated for a pregnant dog.

  Taylor led the way down the hall, while Violet walked at my side. We went out a door that led onto the shelter’s grassy side yard, and Violet immediately squatted to pee.

  “Just like a pregnant lady,” I said.

  “Yep,” Taylor agreed. “She eats a lot too. I’ll go over all her care with you if you decide to foster her.”

  “If,” I repeated.

  “It’s really not as hard as you’re probably thinking,” Taylor said. “Violet will do all the hard work, and I can have someone come over and help when she goes into labor. We have several volunteers who’re experienced with whelping puppies.”

  “I don’t even know what whelping is,” I protested.

  “It’s just a fancy word for a dog giving birth,” Taylor explained.

  “If you have experienced volunteers, why doesn’t one of them take her, then?”