Spring Forward

by Catherine Anderson

  Crystal felt a flush crawl up her neck as she crossed the expansive tile floor. Essie lived in the wing opposite Tuck’s. She walked nearly to the end of the hall before she reached the old lady’s apartment. Imagining the two of them together—and what they might be doing—she knocked louder than necessary and hoped Essie answered the door fully clothed.

  But of course she would, Crystal assured herself. Tuck was eighty. Men his age who’d recently undergone a hip-replacement surgery and still wore a cast for a broken arm couldn’t engage in sex. It was like— Yuck! She didn’t want to think about her grandfather doing things like that.

  Essie opened the door wearing a navy blue pantsuit. Her dark hair was perfectly coiffed. She wore pink lipstick that hadn’t been smudged. Crystal released a breath, so relieved that her voice sounded squeaky. “Hello. I’m Tuck’s granddaughter.”

  A smile touched Essie’s unkissed mouth. “Ah, Crystal. I’ve seen you from a distance. Please, come in.”

  Crystal took in the older woman’s apartment as she crossed the small kitchen. The office reflected the tidy nature of its user, and the living area was neat as well. Essie had comfortable mauve furniture dotted with small throw pillows. Feminine, but not overdone. Tuck, in a plaid shirt, faded jeans, and Romeo slippers, didn’t look out of place sitting on the sofa. On one knee, he balanced a snifter of what Crystal surmised was brandy.

  “Hi, sweetheart. We just finished dinner. I didn’t expect to see you this late.”

  Essie offered Crystal a seat, and she perched beside her grandfather. Tuck made informal introductions. When Essie had relaxed in the recliner, Crystal said, “Tuck, I need to talk to you about Rip. I can’t keep him at home.”

  Crystal recounted what had been happening with the dog as quickly as possible. “I’ve spent over six hundred dollars on electronic collars. I drive the roads trying to find him at all hours of the day and night. Sometimes he doesn’t come home until three in the morning.”

  Essie broke in. “I had a dog like that once, a terrier. We lived on a golf course, so invisible fencing was our only option. Jake hired a company to install it, and Blinky—that was the dog’s name—kept challenging the perimeter. Got loose. Raided trash cans. Stole golf balls off the fairway.”

  Tuck set aside his brandy and sat forward. “So what did you do?”

  Essie lifted her brows. “We called the fence company. The man ordered a super-strong signal collar. In short, Tuck, from that point forward, we shocked the crap out of Blinky, and he finally stayed home.”

  “That seems cruel,” Tuck said, echoing Crystal’s reaction.

  “Depends on how you look at it, I guess.” Essie lifted her narrow shoulders. “I could list a dozen horrid things that can happen to a dog when it’s running loose. Sometimes an owner must choose the lesser of two evils.”

  Chapter Ten

  “Now what, Richards?”

  The question had stayed with Tanner all day as he drove his route on autopilot. He’d even delivered a package to the wrong address and had to go back and get it. But he couldn’t concentrate. How the hell should he move forward in his relationship with Crystal?

  As he worked, he was acutely aware of the gentle warmth of the sunlight, the musical birdsong, and the faint scent of wildflowers drifting on the breeze. Spring was a perfect time of year to fall in love, the season of new life and beginnings. Only, Crystal had made it clear she wasn’t looking for marriage or even anything long-term.

  He wanted to be fine with that. He had two kids and lived thirty minutes away in Crystal Falls. He owned a home there. Eventually, when he got his former delivery route back, he’d have the perfect job there again. Did he really want to move and jerk his kids out of the familiar world he and his mom had created for them? Maybe, if the children fell in love with Mystic Creek, he would consider it. But that was a big if. On the flip side, Crystal had a business here, and though they hadn’t talked about it, he knew how many hours a person had to invest in an enterprise to make it a thriving operation. She’d be crazy to pull up stakes now. If she even could. Tuck owned a home in the area. As nice as the house was, it might not sell quickly. It wasn’t exactly near the middle of town.

  Tanner had always considered himself to be a modern-day guy. Open-minded. A liberal thinker in many ways, conservative in others, the kind of man who could live and let live and go with the flow. He made no moral judgments against people who engaged in sex outside of marriage. If people chose to live together without any official commitment, legal or spiritual, he had no problem with that, either. In fact, he’d always thought he could go for an arrangement like that himself if he didn’t have kids.

  But now that he’d looked a little deeper within himself, he knew he’d never be truly happy in a relationship that had no chance of going anywhere. What should he do with that recently acquired knowledge? He guessed there were men who could float along with a woman indefinitely, but he wasn’t one of them. If he hadn’t realized it before because it had never come up, he sure as hell knew it now.

  So should he end things with Crystal? His mind rebelled at the thought. There was something really special about her. He felt it every time he was with her. And how did a guy end something with a woman when nothing had even started yet? Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

  As he drove around one curve in the road past a field of placidly grazing Angus, and then eased the van into another sharp bend, he started to feel as if his thoughts were like the road. Hairpin turns of mental activity.

  Toward the end of his shift, he pulled onto a shoulder by a line of mailboxes and rested his elbows on the steering wheel, propping his chin on his fists. Maybe he was a slow thinker, but he’d decided he couldn’t just walk away from Crystal. He could settle for only attraction, friendship, and possibly a physical relationship for a while. Maybe she’d start to like him as much as he did her. Maybe she would even change her mind and decide she wanted a permanent relationship. And if that never came about, he’d tell her then that he needed something more.

  After his last stop, he drove to Crystal’s house. Actually, it was Tuck’s property, but as long as the old man lived elsewhere, Tanner found it confusing to designate both places as his residences. He parked outside the hurricane fence, searched for Rip, jotted a note to Crystal, and hopped out of the van to slip it into the knothole of the oak tree.

  As he walked back to the vehicle, he scanned the yard again and still saw no sign of the dog. The heeler was obviously at large again. Sooner or later, something bad would happen. People drove fast on these country roads, and Rip might get run over. Chasing livestock was a shooting offense in this area. Tanner didn’t think Rip, raised on a ranch, was that dumb, but there was always a possibility. And what if the dog was making a pest of himself and some neighbor tossed him poison?

  Tanner understood Crystal’s reluctance to order a correction collar not meant for a dog Rip’s size. Tuck had felt the same way when he lived in Crystal Falls. At some point, though, one of them would have to take the steps necessary to control the animal before he met a terrible end. Nothing else had worked. Getting shocked beat the hell out of being dead.

  * * *

  Crystal squinted against a glare of sunlight coming through the street window as she crimped a piece of foil over a strip of Megan’s blond hair. Postprom, the girl had become a fan of wash-out streaks, and today she wanted red. Her mother sold real estate and apparently did well, because Megan was in here regularly and the services she wanted weren’t cheap. Some girls did wash-out highlights at home with Kool-Aid. Crystal personally thought Megan was naturally pretty and needed no enhancements, but it wasn’t her place to advise the teenager on her appearance.

  A text notification chimed on Crystal’s cell. Her hands in dye-stained gloves, she made a mental note to read the message as soon as she washed up. A few seconds later Nadine came in from the street, her arms encircling sev
eral white bags bearing the Jake ’n’ Bake logo. Delicious scents accompanied her entrance.

  “Uh-oh!” Shannon cried. “I smell something evil. My nose tells me doughnuts.”

  Nadine laughed. “Yes, the increasing waistlines are on me today.”

  “Who can I blame my saddlebags on?” Jules asked.

  “Crystal. I can tell by looking at her that she hasn’t been eating her share, which means you probably took up the slack.”

  Standing at the sink toward the back, Crystal smiled as she washed her hands and dried them. “I have broad shoulders. Go ahead and blame me.” She drew her phone from its case and thumbed the screen. She saw that the incoming message was from Tanner. It read, “Left you a message in the oak tree.”

  Who could figure out men? Why did he bother with an actual note when he could have just texted her? On the other hand, it gave her something to look forward to when she got home, so she wouldn’t overthink it. One eye on the wall clock, which heralded the approach of closing time, she returned to her station to check Megan’s color. Perfect. Now she could do a quick style, run Megan’s mother’s credit card, and be finished for the day.

  The instant the last customer and the other staff had left, Crystal dropped into a chair and wiggled her toes with a sigh of relief. The little one still felt tender, but the more sensible shoes had protected it from constant pressure. She felt tired, which she always did after a long day, but her legs didn’t ache the way they normally did. Maybe, she thought, I should stop wearing heels. Shorter wedge soles might deliver almost the same look and be just as comfortable as these old things I’m wearing. Since Shannon had vacuumed the salon before leaving, all Crystal had to do was shut off the lights and lock the doors. She took care of it quickly and hurried out to the parking lot.

  Gulping in the fresh air, a welcome change after breathing chemical fumes all day, she rolled the windows of the Equinox down for the drive home. She wanted to feel the spring breeze on her face. It had been a gorgeous day, and though it had cooled off slightly, it still wasn’t frigid enough to give her a chill.

  She scanned for Rip as soon as home came into view, but even after she parked and turned off the engine, she saw no dog. Her stomach knotted. Maybe Essie and Tanner both had it right, and it was time for Crystal to control the blue heeler with the lesser of two evils. She would talk to Tuck again, she guessed. Rip wasn’t her dog, and it should be his owner who made decisions in regards to his welfare. Or was she just avoiding making the choice? Pushing it off on Tuck seemed wimpy. Then again, if she made the wrong call, Tuck might grow angry with her again, and she didn’t want that.

  She was almost to the gate when she remembered the message Tanner had left for her in the tree. Grinning, she made her way to the gnarly old oak.

  The note was written on plain white paper, a torn-off piece with a jagged edge. It read, “I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed being with you at the park and that I hope we can do something together again soon. It looks like you-know-who is gone again. I don’t see him, anyway. Please get some rest tonight. An hour of driving the roads is more than most people would do. Put your feet up. Have a glass of wine. Hugs, Tanner.”

  She smiled and pressed the note over her heart. In this modern day of electronic communication, leaving notes in a tree seemed silly. But it was also sweet and old-fashioned, romantic in a way that text messages weren’t. She held the paper out again to study his masculine scrawl, which made the missive seem more personal. She touched a fingertip to his name. Caught by the breeze, the paper fluttered against her nail.

  After entering the house, she gave No Name his hello scratches. She knew she was walking a fine line with the kitten, trying to hold back her feelings while still giving him the attention all babies needed. It wasn’t easy not to love a creature so fluffy and cute. The kitten had no such reservations. He immediately began to ascend her pant leg and purred madly when she detached him. She distracted him with canned tuna while she looked for some paper to answer Tanner’s note.

  She pulled out Tuck’s desk chair and nibbled at the tip of her pen. After a moment’s thought, she wrote, “Dear Tanner: I loved getting your note. It’s more personal than a text. I enjoyed being with you, too, and I’ll look forward to next time. Rip is still gone. I’ll limit the time I search for him tonight. I truly do need some rest. I hope you have a fabulous evening with your kids. Hugs, Crystal.” She thought about stamping it with a lipstick kiss. But that would have been too corny. Maybe later, if he ever actually kissed her, she’d do that.

  She carried the message to the tree and put it in the burl hole. As she turned back toward the house, Rip suddenly appeared in front of her. She started to scold him, but then it occurred to her that might have been one reason he kept running away, because every time he saw her she grumped at him.

  Cupping her hands over her bent knees, she said his name and made gushy sounds. “How are you, sweet one? Have you had a good day?” She reached out to give him scratches behind the ears. He growled at her and bared his teeth. “Okay, fine.” She straightened and studied him through narrowed eyes. “At least you’re not falling over from exhaustion this time, and maybe I can try buying your love with food tonight. First, however, I need dog treats from the car so I can make my way into the house.”

  * * *

  The next afternoon when Tanner stopped by Crystal’s to leave a note in the tree for her, he found one that she’d left for him. He smiled as he read it. In the note he’d just left her, he’d asked her out on a date Friday night. His mom had agreed to watch the kids in exchange for getting a Saturday night free so she could socialize with friends. Sometimes she got stuck with Tori on weekend nights when Tanner was busy with one of Michael’s activities. Normally, Tanner didn’t leave Tori with her the whole evening, but he’d been guilty of picking the child up too late for Libby to make plans.

  As Tanner headed north on Huckleberry, he felt a stab of guilt for burdening his mother. He knew she loved his children, and whenever he talked about hiring a sitter, she said no. But still. Libby was young enough to enjoy an active social life. Hell, she might even remarry if she had the time to date. Tanner couldn’t easily afford to pay a sitter’s wages, but in order to set his mom free, he could figure out a way.

  He had just turned onto Dew Drop Lane, which lay two roads north of the Mystic Creek town center, when he saw Rip running alongside the road. Tanner braked and pulled over.

  “Rip!” he yelled as he leaped from the van.

  If Rip heard Tanner, he paid him no mind. Tanner frowned. Was it Rip? Even as the crow flies, it was quite a distance to Crystal’s house, a good mile and a half. Blue heelers were a popular breed with farmers and ranchers, and they tended to look alike. He could see the animal only from behind.

  “Rip!” he hollered again.

  The canine wheeled around and appeared to almost lose its balance. Then it ran across the bar ditch and disappeared into a field. Tanner shrugged it off as a case of mistaken identity and continued his route. Later as he drove back along the lane to Huckleberry, he noticed a seedy-looking tavern off to the right with a shingle, hanging crookedly from a porch overhang, that read WITCH’S BREW. Parched with thirst, Tanner decided a cola over ice sounded irresistible. He rarely bought coffee or other refreshments and he deserved a treat. He could get it in a to-go cup. He pulled over into the rutted gravel parking lot. Several older-model cars and pickups were parked in front of the establishment, which Tanner suspected was pretty much a dive. The odor of fried food and smoke canted from a ventilation shaft on the shake roof.

  He had one foot on the running board of the van when he spotted, on the tavern porch with two men, the dog he’d seen earlier. Not Rip, then. The men entered the building, followed closely by the heeler. Something in the way the animal moved caught his attention, though. If that wasn’t Rip, it was his twin brother.

  A bad feeling slipped under
Tanner’s ribs. Way back before Tuck got hurt, he’d referred to Rip as his drinking buddy a few times. Tanner hadn’t taken the old man seriously. He knew how much Tuck loved the dog, and everyone knew alcohol was bad for canines. Right? The feeling in Tanner’s middle grew weightier. Just because he knew something didn’t necessarily mean it was common knowledge. Tanner felt certain Tuck would never deliberately do anything to harm Rip, but what if he didn’t know any better?

  Tanner stared out the dusty windshield. He distinctly recalled Crystal saying that Rip often didn’t get home until three in the morning. In Oregon, all bars had to be closed by two thirty. Last call was normally around two. If a dog left the Witch’s Brew at last call, it could cover the distance to Crystal’s place in an hour. The timing was right.

  “Shit.” Tanner wanted to shove his suspicions aside. But he couldn’t do that. “Damn!”

  He strode over the graveled ground to the steps at one end of the ramshackle porch, took them in two jumps, and thumped his way along the rickety boardwalk to the double doors. As he stepped inside, shadows obscured his vision. He waited a second for his eyes to adjust.

  The bar looked like any other Tanner had seen, but even in the dim lighting he could tell the wall hangings were yellowed and covered with dust. The floor was buried under a thick layer of peanut shells. An old man stood behind the serving bench. He wore a checkered shirt smeared with ketchup across the front. All the hair once atop his head seemed to have traveled south, leaving him with a white beard, bushy sideburns, wild eyebrows, and a ring of gray just above the nape of his neck.

  “Wantin’ a cold one?” he asked Tanner. “I imagine it gets hot in them Courier Express rigs. Prob’ly no air conditioner.”

  Tanner approached the bar and swung onto a stool. “I need to wet my whistle. Do you serve cola?”

  The bartender laughed. “Not happily. That shit’ll rust your pipes.”