Who Rescued Who

by Victoria Schade

  “Hm. The old lady by the window? She’s Mrs. Nevers, a neighbor from long ago with an exceptional nose.”

  “No, the one I’m talking about is of Trudy.”

  “Well, that one is a bit too cheeky, I think. We need something . . . more tasteful.”

  “No, I’m talking about the other one. In the white slip.”

  Rowan put down his paintbrush and bowed his head so that he was completely hidden behind his canvas. “You’ve found it. Our little bird,” he said softly. “That’s the portrait I’ve been looking for. I was worried my mice friends had found it first.”

  “It’s amazing, Rowan.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “I think it’s my best. That was the last portrait I ever painted.”

  “Will you tell me about it?” Her stomach twisted as she waited for his answer. There was a chance Rowan would say something noncommittal and move on to talking about the weather.

  His sigh was heavy with hurt. “I knew I’d eventually have to. I haven’t been able to find that painting for all these years, and I knew that when we came upon it, you’d have questions. You see, there’s more to the story about what happened with your father. More than we told you.”

  Elizabeth’s fingertips went numb. How was her father involved with the baby? She imagined the possibilities and none of them were good.

  “Sit.” He gestured to the stool in front of his easel, and then dragged his stool out from behind it so that they were facing one another.

  “Clive was living in Boston,” Rowan began slowly. “Our father had a heart attack and died, very unexpectedly, so Clive came back for the funeral. By then Trudy had fallen pregnant, but she was only a few months along. We weren’t telling anyone yet. It was our beautiful little secret.” Rowan smiled at the memory.

  “Everything about my relationship with Trudy was still raw for Clive. He never stopped loving her. Seeing us together, helping one another through our grief, broke his heart. I think he felt very alone. Then he caught me giving Trudy’s stomach a pat and he knew. He knew that he would never win her back.

  “He drank to drown his sorrows. We didn’t know it, but the morning of the funeral he’d had so much vodka. And your father wasn’t a drinker.”

  Rowan cleared his throat and wiped the corner of his eye. The decades-old story was fresh again.

  “He insisted on driving us the day of the funeral. He wouldn’t hear a no. Trudy and I were too caught up in our own sadness to notice how unsteady he was, how . . . angry he was.” Rowan paused. “Sadness and drink are a frightening combination.”

  Georgina had found her way to Elizabeth and pawed at her to get into her lap. Elizabeth pulled her up, happy to vent some of the tension she was feeling by giving the puppy a deep tissue massage.

  “We had an accident, Bess. A car accident on the way home, with your father at the wheel. Trudy took the brunt of it. She was badly injured.” He ran his hands above his forearms. “Have you ever noticed that she never wears short sleeves, even on the warmest days?”

  The moment he said it she envisioned Trudy’s collection of pastel linen shirts, all with sleeves never rolled higher than her wrists.

  “She was scarred particularly badly along her arms. Even though they faded over the years she never wants to see them, because the scars are a reminder of all we lost.”

  “You mean . . .”

  “We lost our little bird that day.” Rowan bowed his head. “The three stars in Blenheim? That was us. I painted Blenheim in a burst of joy when we discovered Trudy was pregnant. I finished it as we mourned the loss.”

  “We tried again. We were hopeful. For so many years. But it wasn’t meant to be for us.”

  She wanted him to stop talking, so that she wouldn’t have to think about Trudy aching for the child she could never have. For a moment she felt the weight of baby Ian in her arms and Trudy’s pain became hers.

  “Did my father . . . did he go to jail?” She choked on the words. So many hazy parts of her history were snapping into focus.

  “It was a different time. It was just a car accident. But he didn’t need prison. He jailed himself. When he found out Trudy had lost the baby he left. We tried to reach him, to say that we’d forgiven him, but he wouldn’t return our calls or letters. That was why he cut off all contact. The accident changed us, but it ruined him.”

  And Elizabeth finally understood.

  Her father believed his love cursed the people around him. First Rowan, Trudy, and their child, then her mother. Did he think that by loving Elizabeth he’d end up hurting her too? Was his distance a way of ensuring her survival?

  Elizabeth placed Georgina on the floor and walked to Rowan with her arms open, and they cried together for everything they’d both lost on that day so long ago.

  chapter thirty-seven

  Georgina, Porter, and Amber came running from the back of the house and screeched to a stop in front of them.

  “Beggars, the lot of you,” James said as they licked their chops and danced in place in the hopes that Elizabeth or James would share their breakfast. “No food from the table, you know that.”

  “I think Georgina is teaching them bad habits. Rowan slips her stuff now and then, so she thinks everyone eating a meal owes her food.”

  They were sitting at the cheerful turquoise table on the little stone patio in front of James’s cottage, finishing off the fresh strawberry and hazelnut crepes he’d made. Once the dogs realized they weren’t getting anything they took off on another adventure, chasing something that only they could see.

  “I’ve never seen a Lost Dog T-shirt look so good,” James said, giving her a lecherous once-over. “And I like the pants-free aesthetic as well.”

  “You look pretty good yourself, even if I did steal the shirt off your back.” Elizabeth leaned over and kissed him, running her hand down his chest. “Shall we go back in and . . .” She wiggled her eyebrows at him.

  “I definitely need to work off that breakfast, but I want to talk to you first.” He gave Elizabeth the look that signaled that she was about to get interrogated.

  “What?”

  “You tell me. You’ve been weird.”

  “Weird how?” She suddenly felt overfull, the crepes a brick in her stomach. She’d tried to bring up her departure date the night before but the moment never felt right. To talk about what was just a week away would’ve brought their joyful night to a bickering end.

  “Overly happy. It looks like you’re posing for a never-ending selfie.”

  Elizabeth picked at the crumbs on her plate. She pulled her legs up on the chair and slid the oversized T-shirt over them, as if she needed protection from the conversation they were about to have.

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” She couldn’t look at him.

  “So, I was right? Something is going on with you?”

  Elizabeth nodded, and James leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, his face immediately in full furrow.

  “When? When are you leaving?”

  “The fourteenth.” She whispered it.

  “When were you planning on telling me?” He was frighteningly calm.

  “Today, I swear. Well, actually I tried to tell you last night but you . . . well, I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I just found out, James. It all happened really quickly, like phone interview, then, boom, immediate offer. I’m still in shock.” She hoped that he couldn’t tell that she’d been sitting on the news for days.

  “Are you happy about it?” The line between his eyebrows deepened.

  “I sort of have to be. I’ve been unemployed for way too long. It’s like a black hole on my résumé. I need to make money. I need to get back to my real life.”

  He sat up a little straighter. “This isn’t real life? Here with me?”

  “James, this is a fairy tale. I’m not this
lucky in my real life.” She made a sweeping gesture that took in his cottage and the rolling land surrounding it. “Look at this place. Look at you. I mean, you’re not going anywhere, of course, but Fargrove is basically Disney World. It’s an amazing place to visit, but how could I make a life here?”

  “Maybe you should ask the people who do it every day?”

  “What would I do here, James? Work at HiveMind? Be Rowan’s assistant forever?” She realized how angry she sounded, so she softened her tone and leaned closer to him. “You have to understand. I’ve got an apartment and bills and a career to worry about.” It was the truth, but it still made her nauseous to say it.

  “Of course you do.”

  She scooted her chair closer to his and put her hand on his forearm. “I’m not losing you when I leave.” Just saying the words made her want to cry, but she pretended to be strong. “We’re going to make this work, James.”

  “Are we?” His mouth twisted into a frown. “Let’s walk through our future, shall we? Just for fun, let me explain what I envision it’s going to be like. You go back and your life goes on. You work your high-powered job, which, if I remember correctly, involves fourteen-hour days. I stay here and work my silly little beer job—”

  “James, stop.”

  “Let me finish! I work my job and wait for the moment when we can connect by phone. Calculating the length of your day and the time difference, that puts our calls at about . . . uhhh, two a.m. my time. So, we have scintillating middle-of-the-night conversations for a few minutes every few days and it’s a romance for the ages.” He tipped his head to her.

  Hearing him lay it out made it seem too real.

  “It won’t be like that.”

  “No, it actually gets worse. One night you’ll go to one of your fancy work cocktail parties and meet some guy who has a billion followers on Instagram or started a company in his parents’ garage and now he owns an island. You’ll take cute food photos together and talk computers and you’ll eventually realize that a backward beer salesman with zero followers in a fairy-tale town has nothing at all to offer you. That’s how it’s going to work.”

  The insults ripped through her.

  “Do you know me at all?” She didn’t care that she was yelling. “How much have I been on social media since we’ve been together? I’m scared to even take photos of us because you hate my phone so much. I think I have one picture of us. Technology has a place, and don’t pretend you don’t use your phone for work all the time because I see it. It’s not that hard to send a quick text, James.”

  “That’s different. And that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Okay, so to be fair let’s talk about how you’ll end up with someone else. You’ll go to one of your ‘chat up the bartender’ visits and belly up to the bar. A pretty girl who looks perfect without makeup and drank Guinness in her baby bottle will catch your eye. She can tell a witbier from a hefeweizen with her eyes shut, and she’ll order an obscure reserve cask special and you’ll ask her to marry you on the spot. Oh, and you’ll go hiking on your honeymoon with Porter and Amber and her ten rescue dogs.”

  They glared at each other, but Elizabeth broke first.

  “I don’t want what’s left of our time together to be like this. Please, James.”

  He wouldn’t look at her, so she went over and forced herself onto his lap, snuggling into his chest until he had no choice but to wrap his arms around her.

  “We’ll make it work, I promise.” She traced kisses along his stubbly cheek and down to his mouth.

  When he kissed her back he felt like a stranger.

  chapter thirty-eight

  The breeze coming off the hills tamed the midday sun. Elizabeth shielded her eyes with her forearm, watching Georgina in the distance as she schooled the sheep-ladies. Working with her dog enabled Elizabeth to forget about everything else and focus solely on the job of coaching Georgina to move Rosie and Blossom around the field. It was better than meditation.

  Elizabeth blew her whistle, attempting to replicate the perfect two-tone sound that William made when he blew into his. Georgina stopped running after the sheep and plopped into a down as if her belly were magnetized to the ground. Elizabeth whooped and looked back at William and Trudy, hoping that they’d seen their perfect execution.

  “Well done!” It was William’s version of the highest praise.

  Elizabeth and Georgina’s training had turned a corner. The puppy still didn’t listen to her with the same intensity she gave William, but the telepathic connection was finally happening between them as well. Georgina kept one eye on the sheep and the other on Elizabeth, ready to perform a move as the tones came out of the whistle.

  The sheep had fallen in line as well. Georgina was faster than Major, and occasionally unpredictable, so Rosie and Blossom minded her as if they were worried about her motives. Major seemed to enjoy watching Georgina work. He went through the motions in miniature, moving left, right, around, and down next to Trudy, like an eager father coaching his child from the sidelines. He grinned and wagged his tail the entire time he watched Georgina at work.

  “That’s enough for today,” William called out. “Bring her by.”

  When Elizabeth reached them Trudy smiled at her and gently grasped her chin. “Look at you,” she said as she leaned in to examine Elizabeth’s cheeks. “I haven’t noticed these freckles before. You look like a fresh Welsummer egg, all tan and dotted. Charming.”

  “Not sure I’m in love with that comparison, but okay,” Elizabeth said. She’d seen the encroaching spots when she leaned in close to the mirror. The first thing she needed to do when she arrived home was schedule a full-body plucking, lasering, and bleaching overhaul.

  “You look like a healthy farmer’s daughter,” William said. “A real working lass with mud on her boots. Let’s get some calluses on your hands and you’ll be ready to tame the land.”

  “Me?” Elizabeth laughed. “Put me in front of a computer and I’ll give you fifteen straight hours. Put me in front of a hedgerow and I’m worthless.”

  “Would you like to spend some time learning about plants before you go?” Trudy asked hopefully. She sounded like Rowan the first time he’d asked her to paint.

  “That sounds lovely, but I’m not sure there’s time.” Elizabeth imagined standing beside Trudy in her beautiful garden as she pointed out the various herbs, snipping sprigs for the evening meal with a pair of shiny scissors. She thought about William walking amid the roses, naming each variety with both the Latin and the common name, and advising her how best to prune them for maximum blooms. It made her heart ache.

  “Of course, we understand,” Trudy said, and William nodded solemnly.

  “How are you going to ship Miss Georgina back with you?” William asked.

  Elizabeth stifled the gut clench. “We’ve talked about this, William. She has to stay in Fargrove. She would hate San Francisco.” Elizabeth watched as Major and Georgina dashed through the field, tripping, rolling, and wrestling with each other like they were doing a choreographed dance.

  “I was sure you’d change your mind,” William said quietly. “She’s yours, Bess. No matter how she abides me, or how well she minds Trudy, you are the one she loves. Her eye is always on you. Have you noticed that? You make a move and she’s trailing behind you. She is your shadow.” He sounded like he was scolding her even though every word was a compliment.

  Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. Everything he said was true. The truth was that she couldn’t imagine walking through the world without her companion at her feet, but she also couldn’t imagine Georgina finding a happy life in San Francisco. There were no sheep, open fields, or friendly relatives waiting at home.

  Elizabeth knew of people at Duchess who had oversized, intense-looking dogs. They talked about multiple dog walkers and full days at daycare centers while they worked long hours, t
heir dogs’ schedules so packed that they rivaled an Ivy League–bound kindergartner’s. But she also heard about doggie psychologists, and canine Prozac for anxiety disorders, and the occasional “found him a more suitable home” stories. She couldn’t imagine bringing Georgina all the way to San Fran only to give her to someone else. At least she knew she’d be happy in Fargrove. She just needed to figure out which option would be Georgina’s final home.

  “I adore her, you know that,” Elizabeth said, keeping her voice even. “But her life here . . . it’s perfect. I can’t give her this. You know she’s not cut out for city life. My schedule is hard enough for me, let alone a dependent. I hope you understand that I’m doing this for her. It’s not that I don’t love her back, it’s that I love her too much to force her into my world.”

  “Well, I’m very unhappy about it,” Trudy said, sounding more angry than sad. “For both of you. What kind of life are you going back to anyway, that you wouldn’t subject a dog to it?”

  “Trudy,” William admonished.

  “Please don’t make this any tougher for me than it has to be.” Her voice broke as she said it.

  “Who is going to take her, then?” Trudy asked gently, as if she finally realized that she was pushing too hard. “She’s more than welcome to stay here, of course. Reid also said he’d be happy to make her the official HiveMind mascot. And what about James?”

  “I don’t think James can handle another dog. Three dogs would be a lot of work for one person.” Elizabeth wasn’t sure if James would want a canine anchor to bind her to him.

  “My only concern about keeping her here is her age. Major is an old man and he doesn’t need much to tire him out. Georgina is so young and if she doesn’t get enough exercise she might run us all ragged. And Rowan and I are going to be busy for the next bit as we settle in with Tempus and deal with the portrait news.”

  “What about a joint custody scenario?” Elizabeth asked. “Reid could pick her up to spend the day with him at HiveMind, then he could drop her off here at the end of the day when she’s all worn out.”