Who Rescued Who

by Victoria Schade

  “Bollocks. She found us. I’ll go out, you stay here. Don’t do anything, though.” Trudy hoisted herself up as gently as she could and walked from the room slowly, leaving Elizabeth and the puppy alone.

  By now the puppy was unfurled on her bed, the tucked-in nervous posture replaced by a more natural position. Every time Trudy had spoken, the dog thumped her tail. The puppy watched the door expectantly after it clicked closed.

  “I know how you feel,” Elizabeth whispered. “I like her too. She’s nice, isn’t she? I’m nice too.”

  The puppy wagged her tail and turned so that she was facing Elizabeth. She ignored Trudy’s last instruction and instead continued what they’d been doing together. The puppy had signaled yes, so Elizabeth moved closer.

  She looked out the window to see what was going on with Trudy and Lisa, and so she didn’t notice what was happening right in front of her. The puppy crawled down off her bed and tiptoed to where Elizabeth was sitting, pausing right next to her leg. Elizabeth could barely contain her excitement.

  “Hello, little friend.” Once again she ignored Trudy’s advice and reached a tentative hand out to scratch the puppy’s chest. It had worked for Major, maybe it would work on a petrified puppy too. She scratched her for a second and heard Trudy’s voice in her head reminding her to ask permission. Elizabeth moved her hand away and waited for feedback.

  The puppy climbed into Elizabeth’s lap in cautious, slow-motion steps then turned in a circle and tucked herself into a tight ball so that she was nestled against Elizabeth’s stomach.

  Victory!

  Elizabeth willed herself to stay calm even though she wanted to whoop with joy. She slowly moved her hands so they encircled the puppy’s tiny body. “You’re safe now, I’ve got you,” she said, trembling with excitement and hoping the puppy didn’t misunderstand what her body was communicating. The puppy made a little sighing noise, the same one that Georgina always made when she was done causing trouble and had committed to sleep. Elizabeth stroked her fur and silently celebrated the magic that had just happened.

  The door opened and Trudy and Lisa snuck in.

  “Well, look at that,” Trudy said softly, the pride evident even in a whisper. “She trusts you, Bess. You have the magic touch, so I’ll go back to the kitchen drudgery and you keep up with this important cuddling.”

  “Well done,” Lisa said. “I’m impressed. But this is just the beginning. Now we just need someone special to give her a home and work with her. I think she’d do well with another dog, to help model confidence.”

  Elizabeth suddenly realized why the dog’s fur was so striking.

  “I think I know your who new dad is going to be,” she whispered to the puppy.

  chapter twenty-three

  Do you want to help me pull a frame from the beehives?” Reid asked. “First of the season, bound to be glorious.”

  Elizabeth looked up from her computer, startled back into reality by Reid’s interruption. Georgina woke up on the bean sack next to Elizabeth and cocked her head at Reid. The puppy knew that he usually had something hidden in his apron for her.

  “Pass. I’m not a fan of bees. Wings and stingers seem like an unfair advantage.”

  “My girls are harmless, tame as lambs. I promise.”

  Elizabeth laughed at him. She knew exactly how “tame” lambs could be.

  Reid stood in front of her with his arms crossed. He wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Come on.”

  “If I get stung I’m charging you double for your social media revamp,” she said. “I’m not kidding.”

  She followed him past the counter with Georgina at her heels and into a stairwell that was barely wider than her elbows. Reid had to angle his broad shoulders to clear it. He looked like a giant plopped into a dollhouse.

  “What if someone comes in?” she asked. Georgina was so close she could feel the dog’s whiskers on her bare ankles as she struggled to navigate the steep stairs.

  “I’ll hear the bell, eventually. Locals don’t mind waiting, unlike Americans.”

  He opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped into the blinding sunshine. Georgina dashed out behind him and started exploring. Elizabeth followed tentatively. The front peaked portion of the roof hid the small flat back section, where the hives were located. The six hives stood side by side, next to a chimney. They were unimpressive, just tall wooden rectangular boxes stacked one atop another, like windowless high-rise towers. Each had a ledge protruding from the bottom, where nightmare hordes of bees clumped together as if they were on an entrance ramp on a rush-hour freeway.

  “This is what an information superhighway looks like in Fargrove,” Reid said, pointing to activity around the hives. “Watch your head, you’re right in their path.”

  Elizabeth turned and saw flying black dots circling toward her. She shrieked and ran back toward the door, swatting the air.

  “Stop, you’re fine. They won’t hurt you. If you don’t act like a nobhead you’re nothing more than a weird-looking tree to them. Relax, Bess. Now get over here and observe the glory. I promise you’re safe.”

  She walked to him slowly and worried as Georgina got closer to the hives. Which one of them would get stung first? The air was electrified with thrumming activity. Elizabeth stood just behind Reid’s shoulder, using him as a barrier.

  “My rule is you can’t stop watching the hive until you see some pollen pants walking in,” Reid said, staring at the activity.

  “Pollen pants?”

  “When a bee comes home from a successful run she’s wearing the pollen on her back legs, and it looks like she has puffy yellow pants on. The color varies from butter yellow to deep orange, depending on where she’s been harvesting. It’s lovely to see, really.”

  Elizabeth moved from behind Reid and focused on the mass of bees heading into the hive. Georgina seemed to be fighting something within her DNA, curious about the buzzing but smart enough not to get too close. Elizabeth watched bee after bee fly into the busiest entrance but couldn’t spot what Reid was describing. Just as she was about to give up . . .

  “Pollen pants! I see them! Right there,” she said, pointing to the mass.

  “Indeed you do. Nice work.” Reid grinned at her excitement. “It’s time for me to take a peek inside, so now would be a good time to step away. Things can get hectic when I go in.”

  Elizabeth retreated to a safe spot. Reid started to open the flat top of one of the hives, and the bees surrounded him like a cloud. Georgina edged in closer, overcome by the excitement of what was happening. “Call Georgie. She won’t like a stinger to the nose.”

  Elizabeth whistled in as close an approximation as she could muster to what Trudy had taught her to do to recall the puppy, and Georgina loped to her immediately. They’d only had a few quick lessons together, so it shocked her when Georgina listened to her. She hooked a finger under Georgina’s collar and held her close.

  “Aren’t you going to wear one of those hazmat suits?” Reid was in jeans, a green T-shirt, and his omnipresent black ticking apron. His hair was a bright beacon in the sun. Elizabeth wondered if bees reacted to the color red like an angry bull.

  He shook his head. “I stopped wearing a suit after meeting with an old beekeeper in Germany. He taught me that keeping them calm is all about my connection to them. They know I’d never hurt them, so they don’t hurt me.” He paused and gave her a sheepish look. “Well, sometimes they do, but I’ve built up a tolerance to stings.” He placed the top of the hive on the ledge, his movements methodical and unhurried, and looked into the heart of the box. “My beautiful girls. What you’ve done!”

  Elizabeth strained to see what he was looking at.

  “We are not worthy of this,” he said as he pulled a rectangular frame out of the hive and held it up to the light.

  The muted golden honey was suspended in the frame like
a perfect piece of stained glass, so plentiful that it dripped down the sides and onto Reid’s fingers. The bees flew in boozy rings around him, landing on his hands and forearms as if to remind him that they were responsible for the bounty.

  “Have you ever seen anything so perfect?” he asked.

  “I’ve only seen honey in plastic bears. It’s unbelievable.” She tried to remain calm as bees flew by her head.

  “Well, prepare to have your first taste of heaven. I’ll get the rest later, let’s take this one down and have a try.”

  Reid walked toward her holding the honey-laden frame out to her, a swarm of bees trailing behind him, so Elizabeth yanked open the door and ran down the stairs with Georgina tumbling along behind her.

  Reid met her by the counter. “Taste it,” he said, holding it out to her.

  Elizabeth reached out to touch her finger to the honey pooled on the edge of the frame, only to see a lone bee creep up from underneath. She jumped away.

  “A straggler,” Reid said. He walked to the door and held the frame outside, gently shaking it until the bee flew away. “Off you go, sweetheart.” He came back and offered it to her again. “Okay, now try.”

  She dabbed her finger along the edge of the frame and touched it to her tongue. “This doesn’t taste like plastic bear honey.” It was sweet, but not like what she was used to. It had a depth of flavor that made her think she could taste the clover blossoms the bees had feasted on.

  Reid touched his finger to the honey and looked down at Georgina. “Sit.” The puppy immediately moved into position, faster than she ever had for Elizabeth, and Reid let her lick the honey from his fingertip. “A little honey is good for pups.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with two currant-studded triangular scones on a yellow plate, and a marrow bone for Georgina. The puppy ran back to her bean sack bed with the prize.

  “I hope you don’t mind yesterday’s goods,” he said as he handed her a scone. He took a spoon and mashed it on the honey at the corner of the frame, and the golden liquid oozed up through what looked like a thin plastic skin. Reid gently pushed the coating aside.

  Elizabeth examined it. “What is that on top?”

  “That’s the wax cap. In order to properly collect the honey you’re supposed to shave it off with a hot knife, but for this unofficial harvest we’ll just work around it.” He collected a blob of honey on the spoon, then hovered it over the scones, letting it run down in slow amber streams, until he’d made a glistening trail on top of each one. He pushed the plate toward her. “After you, madame.”

  Elizabeth was reminded of their first meeting, and how far they’d come in the past few weeks. She took a huge bite and the combination of the crumbly scone with the sticky sweetness of the honey almost made her swoon.

  “Amazing,” she said with her mouth full. She made little satisfied noises as she chewed. “So good.”

  The bell over the door jangled but Elizabeth was so caught up in the honey-coated confection that she didn’t even turn to see who it was. She was starving and the scone was hitting the spot.

  “Hey, mate!” Reid said. “Bess, look, it’s your old friend James.” There was a hint of mocking in his voice.

  “Well, hello there,” James said with a smile that lit up his already beautiful face. “So nice to see you here again. Reid mentioned that you’re staying on for a while longer?”

  Bess covered her mouth with her hand and chewed faster, kicking herself for taking a giant bite right as James walked in.

  “Um-hmnf,” she replied with a nod and a wave, spitting a few crumbs. Georgina dashed around the corner from the kitchen and launched herself at James, proving that he was irresistible to dogs too.

  “Well, hello, you,” he said, trying to pet Georgina while preventing her from jumping up on him.

  Elizabeth ran over and clipped a leash on the puppy’s collar so she had more control over her. “Sorry, she’s a work in progress.”

  “Aren’t we all?” He paused and watched her for a moment like he was about to say something more but reached down to Georgina instead.

  Looking into his eyes gave Elizabeth a split-second vision of his arms around her. It felt like a sense memory, like it had actually happened. Shock rippled through her. Had it happened?

  “I met your next dog,” she said without preamble. She cringed after the words came out. “I mean, if you were serious about wanting a puppy, I met one that might be perfect for you.”

  “Did you? And what makes you think you found The One?” He knelt and rubbed Georgina’s belly, who was flat on her back and seemed just as in awe of James as Elizabeth was.

  Elizabeth thought for a moment. Why did she think the dog was right for him? After all, the puppy was cripplingly shy and would need someone who was calm and kind and patient to help rehab her. Did he have the time to dedicate to a needy little dog? Would Porter welcome a temperamental sibling? She watched James sitting cross-legged on the floor massaging Georgina like it was his job. Elizabeth peered at his ankles. He was wearing navy socks with a tiny repeating print. Dogs. James Holworthy was wearing dog print socks.

  “I just have a feeling you’ll like her. She’s . . . special. A little socially awkward. But so adorable. And she matches Porter!” Elizabeth considered showing him the photo she’d taken of the puppy but thought an element of surprise might work in her favor.

  “How do you know what Porter looks like?” James looked genuinely curious.

  Reid snorted from behind the counter.

  “Uh . . . Porter is a lab, a chocolate lab, right? Seen one, seen ’em all.” Elizabeth mentally kicked herself for sloppy stalking.

  “And where is this perfect-for-me-dog right now?”

  “I met her at Dogs Trust with Trudy. She’s not on the adoption floor yet because . . . uh, because they don’t have the space. But I could get you a secret meeting with her.” Elizabeth pretzeled herself, hugging her arms to her chest and linking her legs at the ankles.

  James smiled at her, and it felt like the sun breaking through the clouds. “If you’re convinced that you’ve found the dog for me, I’d be happy to meet her. After all, you’re pretty good at picking dogs. Look at this perfect little lump. Although truth be told I think she picked you.” Georgina was still on her back in a trance in front of James. He slid his hands beneath her shoulders and massaged them, and Georgina made a noise that sounded like a sigh.

  Elizabeth watched his hands and couldn’t believe that she was jealous of a dog.

  “So when would you like to go?” She said it before she could think about the fact that she was asking James on a date, even though he probably didn’t realize it.

  “Well, we’ve all got Des and Harriet’s dinner party on Thursday. Shall we run by Dogs Trust before, then go straight there? I imagine you’ll need transportation, so I’ll be your driver for the afternoon and evening.”

  It was as if she’d scripted it.

  “Perfect. I’ll set it all up.” Elizabeth’s heart hopscotched for a few beats as she realized the magnitude of what she’d just done. She wasn’t a dog expert or a dude expert, but she’d just successfully scheduled a date with one of each. Imagining the millions of things that could go wrong with either one of them made her woozy.

  Reid had his elbows on the counter, staring at them like he was in the front row at a play. “Not to break this up but your coffee’s ready, James.”

  “Right, thanks, mate. Bess, let me know what time I should pick you up for my date with destiny. Is that what I should name this puppy? ‘Destiny’?” His gaze didn’t leave her eyes as he said the word, and even though they were talking about naming a dog she felt a flush creeping onto her cheeks.

  Elizabeth cleared her throat and tried to act like a professional dog rescuer instead of a lovesick teenager. “Not quite. I think you’ll know her name the second you s
ee her.”

  “Picking my next dog and naming it too? I guess you know me better than I do,” James said, placing his hand on her shoulder as he leaned over to grab his coffee.

  The familiar sparks sizzled through Elizabeth’s body. He’d touched her like that before, she was sure of it.

  She just wished she could remember it.

  chapter twenty-four

  The cat was coming along, just in time for the Welbecks’ party.

  She’d cropped the original image on her phone so that it was a close-up of his face, with one eye covered by his white-tipped paw, and scraps of satin and tulle peeking out from behind his head. His leg was so perfectly blue-black that it looked like the sleeve to a shirt, with a white paw peeking out the end of it. Elizabeth wanted to alter it to include a few pops of orange since the crop obliterated some of his more impressive markings, but she also wanted to be true to the animal.

  It was shocking how quickly the brush felt at home in her hand again. She became confident enough to play with her style, painting some works with the same looseness as her first image of Major, and others with the care of a scientist capturing the details of a specimen for a textbook. She’d completed a dozen paintings quickly, before she could second-guess what she was doing. Rowan had assessed each one like an art critic, sometimes praising her outright and other times making suggestions for tweaks that took her work from good to great.

  She peered around the edge of her canvas at him. His moody lake painting was completed and he had moved on to an open field dominated by a sapphire sky crowded with fat clouds, which was appropriate since the song echoing around the barn was about “blue skies, nothing but blue skies.” She placed her paintbrush on the edge of the trough on the easel and studied his process. He held a long dowel, tapered like a pool stick, on the top edge of the painting so that it was about two inches from the canvas, and rested his brush hand on it. This allowed him to make minuscule additions to the clouds without accidentally touching the wet paint. Were his hands so unsteady that they required the tool, or had he always used it? Elizabeth scrutinized both of his hands and couldn’t detect a hint of tremor.