Who Rescued Who

by Victoria Schade

  “Are you filming me?” she screamed at her.

  The woman shrugged and tapped her phone’s screen, then walked away.

  Elizabeth tried to slow her pounding heart. She was scared to look at her phone. When she finally flipped it over, it was worse than she’d imagined. The glass looked like it had taken a bullet and had pulled away from the phone’s base so that the guts were exposed around the edges. She pushed the power button and nothing happened, not even a spark of an attempt to turn back on.

  It was too late to think about it. She’d have to go ten hours without a phone. Six months prior Elizabeth would’ve tracked down a technician to triage her phone immediately. Now it didn’t seem necessary. Work could wait.

  The adrenaline of the near-accident had finally subsided by the time she arrived at her apartment. She opened the door and was almost leveled by the smell of bleach. No matter how many times she told the cleaning lady to lighten up, the woman still used enough to make Elizabeth’s eyes water even when she arrived home hours later.

  She flipped on the light and saw a wood crate leaning up against the console table that the cleaning lady had probably signed for. Her heart fell. She knew exactly what it was based on the way it was packaged and the multiple airmail stickers.

  She was starving and her feet hurt, but she decided to open the package before she’d even put her bag down. After all, she’d been waiting to see it for ages. She’d envisioned how Rowan had chosen to depict the patch of land by the river for months, and it was finally time to see his version of the River Dorcalon.

  Elizabeth opened the wood crate with an expert hand, using her house key to pop the edges at just the right angle to ensure that the pieces slid apart easily. The painting was in a cardboard box inside, with an envelope taped to the outside. She skipped the letter and opened the lid of the box. The canvas was nestled facedown in gray egg-carton foam, something that they’d never used before and was probably a technique he’d picked up from Tempus. She flipped the canvas over.

  It wasn’t the river.

  It was a portrait of her, standing in front of her easel in the Operculum. His first portrait in fifty years. Rowan had mapped out every nuance of their daily lives together. How she tipped her head as she studied her work. The dab rag she tucked in her belt. The smudges of paint on the front of her jeans. The beam of light that danced across the top of her head at eleven thirty every day. The painting was a marriage of the freedom of his early portraits mixed with the realism of his landscapes. He’d captured her in the thrall of creation, and because of that, and because he’d painted her with love, she looked more beautiful than she looked in her most filtered selfie.

  Her eyes traveled around the rest of the painting, taking in the details. He’d painted every part of the Operculum, and had hidden little surprises to delight her, like one of Trudy’s shawls draped over her stool, and Sunset over Blenheim hanging on a distant wall even though it was actually still hanging in a museum.

  She studied the rest of the works he’d chosen to hang on the walls of the Operculum. The painting of Trudy with naked shoulders peeked through the doorway to the portrait room. The sad painting he’d been working on when she arrived was leaning in a corner with a drape covering most of it, and the happy blue-sky painting hung above it. She squinted at a portrait that was hanging near her and was delighted to discover that he’d captured James in miniature, laughing and holding a pint up in a toast.

  She noticed he’d painted a mirror on the wall behind her reflecting part of what was on her canvas, even though there were no mirrors in the real Operculum. She took the painting to the light so she could see it more clearly. Her eyes filled with tears the moment she realized what he’d done.

  It was Georgina on her canvas. Elizabeth had wondered why he’d chosen to leave the dog out of the work since she was always nearby when she was painting, but it was a conscious decision, and a pointed comment. Rowan was telling her that he wasn’t a painter of animals, Elizabeth was. He didn’t feel it was his place to attempt to capture her dog, since no one could do it better than she could. And it was a reminder that during her time there she’d painted every animal she’d encountered except for the one she loved the most.

  She put the painting down, walked back to the box, and tore open the envelope.

  There were three lines.

  Fargrove isn’t the same without you.

  You will always be welcome here.

  You are missed, and loved.

  chapter forty-six

  Elizabeth settled into her seat, arranging her water, wrap, and snacks just so, and tucking the sheep book in the pocket in the seat in front of her. Departure time was looming, and it looked like the seat next to her was to remain empty.

  It was hard to sit still. She pulled the book from the pocket and hunted for where she’d left off, weeks and weeks ago. Her bookmark tumbled out, a scrap of paper from the Operculum that Georgina had stepped on, leaving a perfect blue paw print. She wondered how much bigger the paw was now.

  A purse landed on the seat next to her, and she looked up to find a woman smiling apologetically at her. “This is me, sorry,” the woman said, as if she were imposing even though she’d actually paid for the spot.

  “No problem,” Elizabeth replied, flicking the edge of her light pink wrap from the armrest.

  The woman eased herself into the seat and Elizabeth studied her out of the corner of her eye. She was a mix of Midwestern mom and kindly librarian, all cardigan and softness, and Elizabeth knew that if the seat next to her had to be occupied, she couldn’t have asked for a better option. She envisioned the offers of moist towelettes and tabloid magazines to come.

  “So,” the woman said to Elizabeth with a kindly smile. “Is this trip business or pleasure?”

  “Um, both, I guess.”

  “Well, I’m meeting up with some girlfriends. We’ve been friends for thirty years, if you can believe it.” The woman scrolled through her phone and showed Elizabeth a photo of her with two other white-haired women wearing giant smiles.

  “Wow, that’s wonderful. You’re lucky.” She showed the woman a photo of her next to Harriet, from the dinner party. “This is my best friend.”

  The woman peered at the photo over the top of her glasses. “You’ll be friends forever. I can tell. So where are you from, sweetheart?”

  The plane hadn’t even begun to taxi and they were already getting to the heavy stuff.

  “I don’t exactly live anywhere yet. I’m in the process of moving.”

  “Oh, moving is the worst! I don’t envy you, honey. Where are you going to end up?”

  Elizabeth swallowed the doubt spinning inside her. She was doing this; there was no turning back. “It’s a small town, called Fargrove. West of London. It’s where my family comes from.”

  “You’re moving to England? Aren’t you the luckiest?”

  She felt like she was. And part of her felt like she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

  “What do you do?” the woman asked.

  The question. What did she do?

  “Well, that’s in flux at the moment. I’ve been in tech forever, but I’m also . . .” She forced herself to say the words. “. . . an artist.”

  “An artist! What kind of art?”

  “I paint. It’s sort of in my blood. My uncle is an artist . . .”

  The woman cut her off. “That’ll help. He probably knows folks and can give you pointers and such.”

  Elizabeth smiled. Oh, he knew people. She stared out the window as the plane began its taxi, but the friendly interrogation wasn’t over.

  “Do you have a place to live already?”

  “I’m going to stay with my aunt and uncle for a bit. I’ve got a little spot where I’m going to fix up an old stone house.”

  The woman harrumphed. “We built our first house and
let me tell you, it was a nightmare. I wonder how hard it’ll be over there? Zoning and contractors and all of that?”

  “I’ll have lots of support, thankfully.” Reid was already lining people up for her to meet who could help her tame the land by the river.

  “Sounds like you’ve got everything all figured out. A gal with a plan!” The woman chuckled.

  For the first time in her life, Elizabeth didn’t have a plan. Rowan and Trudy were allowing her to rent the land back from them for a pound a year, so she had the cushion of the sale of the land to them to carry her through as she found her way. She had a rough idea of what her new life was going to look like, but there were no goals to hit or milestones to measure. She’d set up a meeting with the gallery Amelia Davies had told her about, but that was it.

  Any time she thought about her move to Fargrove, she flip-flopped between euphoria and white-knuckle terror.

  “Is there a special someone in this plan?” the woman asked, leaning forward to hear the juicy stuff.

  “Yes, a couple of them, actually.”

  Her seatmate raised her eyebrows as if considering her alternative lifestyle. Elizabeth burst out laughing.

  “I mean my boyfriend and my dog!”

  James’s smiling, confused face flashed through her mind. During their last call he swore he wasn’t going to believe it until she was standing in front of him. Georgina, on the other hand, had no clue what was in store for her.

  “A gal with a plan,” the woman repeated, and started rifling through her bag.

  Elizabeth watched the ground disappear below her, until the familiar landscape started to look like a map from a textbook. Her fingers tingled and her heart thudded. She was headed into uncharted territory. A new world that didn’t feel new.

  She was going home.

  She closed her eyes and started a hundred-breath exercise to quell the fear that was making her question her decision, until she felt a swat on her arm.

  “We’re going to be sitting next to each other for the next ten hours, so we might as well introduce ourselves. I’m Donna.” The woman thrust her hand out.

  She took the woman’s hand in hers.

  “Nice to meet you. My name is Bess.”

  chapter forty-seven

  Are you sure he doesn’t know?” Bess asked Reid for the third time.

  “He is so wrapped up in the Lost Dog Open Day that he hasn’t been in for coffee in two weeks. He’s in full bridezilla mode; he has no idea that you’re already back.”

  Bess was fidgeting next to Reid on the ride from Heathrow straight to the Lost Dog open house celebration. She’d told James that she was due in on Saturday morning so that he’d have one less thing to stress about as he got ready for the brewery’s first event. She’d sat in on an initial conference call with James and the Lost Dog co-founders and helped them begin brainstorming, but what James didn’t know was that she’d also followed up with them to map out the details of her surprise arrival.

  She pulled down the visor to check her reflection in the mirror. She looked blotchy and travel weary, but it didn’t matter.

  “Stop,” Reid scolded. “You’re a goddess, blonder and shinier than I remembered. We need to get those Fargrove freckles back.”

  Bess flicked the visor back up and exhaled sharply. “Why am I so nervous?”

  “Because you’re about to see the love of your life, your dog, your family, and your best mates for the first time in months. Oh, and you burned your ship.”

  “You know that quote?”

  “I own a small business, Bess. I know every inspirational risk-taking quote there is.” He took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her. “Fuck that ship, you did the right thing. You belong here.”

  He was right. The moment she touched down she stopped worrying because she knew she was home.

  “Everyone is going to be there?”

  “Everyone. Rowan and Trudy. Nicky, Harriet, Des, Anna, Willard. The Fizz is playing. It’s dog-friendly so all the cool pups will be there. You picked the perfect time to make the night all about your homecoming.”

  Bess looked at him in openmouthed horror. “Oh my God. That wasn’t my intention at all! I don’t want to steal the spotlight from Lost Dog.”

  “Relax, I’m kidding.” He punched her shoulder. “If the turnout is as big as they’re expecting, you’re going to be fighting the crowd to grab a drink and a piece of Holworthy ass.”

  Signs pointed the way and parked cars flanked the road as they got closer to the Lost Dog office.

  “This is great,” Bess said. “So many people. They did it.”

  Reid maneuvered around the cars and people walking along the road to the brewery to a driveway with a chain across it.

  “Pays to know the top dog,” he said, leaping out to unlock the padlock, then pulled his car into the last open space in the lot.

  Bess climbed out of the car and stretched, hoping that getting her blood moving would keep her from trembling with excitement. The air was rich with smells she didn’t recognize, and she could hear the buzz of the crowd on the other side of the building.

  “Why didn’t he want to host something here?” Bess asked as she scanned the office. The large building had a modern one-story profile with a mix of wood slats, corrugated metal, and floor-to-ceiling windows. “It’s amazing.”

  “Innit? All recycled materials. Now wait here.” Reid sprinted off without another word.

  Elizabeth paced in circles. Between the jet lag and nerves she felt like she’d downed a dozen Pointer Pilsners. She heard footsteps heading her way and got ready for the first of many reunions to come.

  “There she is! There’s our Bess,” she heard as Rowan came into view with Trudy right behind him. “Welcome home, my dear!”

  He swept her into an embrace that nearly knocked her off her feet. When he finally let go Trudy stepped up to give Bess her own bone-crunching hug.

  “Ouch, Trudy, I guess your arm is completely healed.” Bess laughed as they rocked back and forth.

  “Oh, you’re back!” Trudy practically sang. “I’m not letting you go until I believe it!” It took her a few minutes to relax her grip.

  They separated and stood staring at one another with huge smiles, not sure what to say or do next.

  “I guess this is the beginning,” Bess said with a shrug. “I’m going to figure it all out.”

  “Indeed you will. And we’ll be right beside you,” Rowan said.

  Reid emerged from the shadows. “Ready for more reunions?”

  “Do you guys mind if I stagger them? I’m already a little overwhelmed.” She held her hand to her chest. “I can’t cope with greeting everyone at once, so can you please bring Georgina to me first? I want to see her away from the crowd.” She waved her hands in front of her like they were wet and bounced in place. “Why am I so nervous?”

  “Perfectly normal,” Trudy said. “Off we go, Rowan. Let her have some peace with her beloveds.”

  Rowan blew her a kiss as they walked away. “We’ll see you in there.”

  Reid pointed to a patch of trees on the far corner of the property. “Wait over there. I’ll bring Georgina first. Back in a tick.”

  A minute later she heard high-pitched barking. Georgina, but what was wrong with her?

  She watched the group of people laughing and drinking as Georgina came shooting out into the yard. The dog stopped and lifted her head, then started running in a wide circle. Reid dashed after her.

  Georgina zigzagged her way across the grass, alternating between scenting the air and running her nose along the ground.

  “Georgie,” Bess stage-whispered. “I’m here!” She dropped to her knees and whistled.

  The dog lowered her body and took off like Blossom and Rosie were in the farthest corner of the field and needed to be brought to the barn sta
t. Georgina started making high-pitched whining noises as she got closer and didn’t slow down until she plowed Bess flat on her back.

  “You’re huge!” Bess exclaimed as Georgina wiggled on top of her. The dog was moving so fast that she couldn’t even properly pet her, she was just a blur of fur and tongue.

  Reid finally reached them, panting from the jog but holding a full pint of black liquid. “She knew you were here the second I walked over to her. She smelled my hands and started freaking out.”

  Georgina slowed down enough to allow Bess to give her a squeeze. “I’m back! I’m back for good!” Georgina splayed out on her lap as if trying to pin her in place with her weight. She made happy he-he-he noises as she panted.

  “This is for you, figured you need it,” Reid said as he handed her the pint. “The Mastiff Milk Stout, limited edition for tonight.”

  She took a sip while attempting to keep Georgina from head-butting her and grimaced. “Painful.”

  “Acquired taste; keep at it, you’ll love it by the bottom. Now what?”

  “I’m going to chug this beer, then call James and freak him out.”

  “That’s my cue to leave; I don’t need to be a part of your loved-up homecoming. I know you two can’t keep your hands off each other and I’ve seen enough of your ass.”

  “Will you ever let me forget that?”

  Reid winked and headed back to the crowd.

  She spent a few minutes sipping the beer, petting Georgina to try to get them both to calm down. It was like the dog couldn’t believe that Bess was actually there and had to do dramatic half-flip head turns every few minutes to reassure herself that the lap she was sitting on was indeed her missing person’s.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Georgie. Don’t worry,” she murmured, half to the dog and half to herself.