| |
––––––––
FIVE MINUTES EARLIER in Hanover
“Emma! Emma Marie Tatum, where are you?” Lori called out through the screen door. Keeping a rein on her three-year-old daughter was like trying to tame the wind. She could open any door or latch and even figured out how to get the stepladder and reach the special latch Lori had installed high up on the door to curb such disappearing acts. That child would be the death of her.
She stepped out on the front porch and scanned the yard and driveway but saw no sign of her daughter. She couldn’t turn her back on Emma for two seconds or she was out the door discovering the neighborhood. Luckily, Hanover was a quiet little town and most of the neighbors were like extended family, looking out for each other’s youngsters when need be. “Emma!” she called louder, cupping her hands to her mouth for momentum. “Em-ma!”
A woman’s face poked over the shrubbery on the north side of the yard. Her grin crooked but full of delight in Emma’s latest antics. “I saw her in the back with Bear a few minutes ago,” Margery Pritchard said. “She wanted to help me prune the bushes, but I told her she had to be at least four before she could use garden shears. Hope she doesn’t hold it against me when she turns four and I recant.” She laughed softly and shook her head.
Lori waved a hand. “Thanks Margery. I’ll look around back.” She hurried down the steps and around the house. The afternoon was quickly turning gray and it looked like a rainstorm building to the west. She squinted up at the sun where it peeked from behind fast-moving clouds. Rain was definitely on the way.
She noticed the siding on their small three-bedroom rambler was peeling again. Had it already been three years since Sam painted the exterior? Well, of course it had. He painted it the week before she went into labor with Emma. He’d acted more like a nesting mother than she, wanting everything to be fresh and new for the baby, as though a baby would notice whether the house needed a fresh coat of paint or not.
Lori stopped and stared around the empty back yard. The tire swing Todd tied to the Maple tree when their daughter turned two was occupied, but not by Emma. Her tattered and dirty Silly Sally doll hung limply over the rim, lonely and deserted. Emma rarely played with the thing, but Bear enjoyed dragging it along with them.
Lori sighed. She had bread in the oven and needed to finish the laundry before the afternoon got away and it was time to make dinner. She knew that Bear was with Emma and although he was just eleven months old, the English Sheep Dog was not only Emma’s best friend, but a staunch protector. Bear was more trust worthy than a baby-sitter, but he tended to let Emma lead the way instead of keeping her safely in the yard. He definitely needed work on his shepherding abilities. Perhaps she’d check out a dog-training manual next time they stopped at the county library.
The screech of tires sent a chill down her spine and she raced for the front yard hoping her mother instinct was all-haywire. Mr. Johnson, who lived four houses down, thrust open the door of his minivan just as she rounded the corner of the house. She saw horror written in the lines of his face as surely as if God had spoken.
“No!” Lori sprinted the last few feet to the road. Her daughter’s crumpled body lay to the side of the street, her favorite red-ruffled panties exposed. The skirt of her denim jumper twisted at her waist. Before Lori could reach down and scoop her into her arms, Emma rolled over and started crying.
“Mommy, I got owie leg.” Tears streamed from Emma’s sable-colored eyes. A long bloody scrape ran the length of her leg, from knee to ankle. “Bear needs spanking. He knock me down.”
The elderly Mr. Johnson placed a shaky hand on Lori’s shoulder and motioned toward the front passenger side of the van. She looked and nearly broke into tears at what he was trying to tell her. His lips trembled. “I’m so sorry, Lori. I didn’t even see her, but Bear came running out of nowhere and knocked her out of the way. That dog saved your daughter’s life.”
Bear’s shaggy white and gray body, abnormally still, lay sprawled on the dark asphalt. Even in sleep the rambunctious puppy twitched and jerked as though running after a rabbit, but now he lay unmoving; a thin trickle of blood dripped from his nose. Only his eyes moved, watching them huddled there on the street. Lori had never seen such sad eyes. It was as though he knew his time had come and longed for more carefree days to frolic with his little girl.
Lori bit her lip to hold back the tears and patted Mr. Johnson’s hand still on her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.” She bent and scooped Emma up in her arms, careful to turn her face away from the sight of Bear’s broken body as she hurried toward the house.
“You want me to carry Bear?” Mr. Johnson called after them.
Emma twisted in Lori’s arms, trying to look back. “Mommy, Bear hurt! Me help him.” She struggled to get down while Lori continued to hold her tight.
Lori stopped and stood still, unable to think straight. She didn’t want Emma to have to go through losing her precious puppy, but life had a way of hitting you with hard knocks when you least expected. He couldn’t just disappear from their lives with no explanation. “Yes, please bring him,” she said, then set the struggling girl on her feet. She knelt in front of Emma and cupped the soft child face in her hands. “Honey, Bear got hurt by the car. He’s hurt real bad. We can’t fix him.” She swallowed hard at the look of contrition in her daughter’s face. Even at three years of age she knew the blame game.
Mr. Johnson slowly approached, carrying Bear. The pup let out a faint whine when he saw Emma. “You want him in the house?” he asked, his voice gruffer than usual. He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly.
Emma twisted away from her mother and reached out for Bear, tears welling in her eyes again. “Emma hold Bear!” she said standing on her tiptoes she stroked Bear’s limp paws.
“Bring him inside,” Lori directed, and held the screen door for the three to enter.
Mr. Johnson hesitated inside the door, his eyes downcast. He shifted Bear slightly in his arms; the puppy was heavier than he looked.
“Emma, sit on the bench and Mr. Johnson will let you hold Bear,” Lori said, barely able to speak for the lump in her throat.
She climbed up on the padded piano bench and held out her arms. Mr. Johnson leaned down and carefully placed Bear’s gangly body across her lap. Emma brushed the hair out of Bear’s eyes and smiled into them, her nose a mere inch from his. She lifted his ear and whispered inside, “Love you, Bear.” Then she laid her head against him and began to hum.
“Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” Lori said, as the man backed toward the door.
“I’m real sorry,” he mumbled, refusing to meet her eye, then took one last look at Emma and Bear before hurrying out to his car.
Emma continued to stroke Bear, her face pressed against his still form. Then she reached up and played a slow sequence of notes on the piano. Lori had already started teaching her scales and simple tunes, but this melody was obviously of Emma’s own making. Lori looked on, unable to find the words to tell her baby about death and loss. Bear could not possibly survive his injuries, but thankfully he didn’t seem to be in pain because they couldn’t afford to pay a Veterinarian to put him to sleep. She prayed Sam would get home soon. Sometimes he showed up early and surprised them. Today. Please let him come home early today. She needed him. Emma needed him.
“Bear likes me play pretty colors,” Emma said glancing up from the keyboard.
“Notes, honey. You’re playing notes,” Lori automatically corrected, and then mentally berated herself. Concentrating on Emma’s incorrect word choices kept her from really dealing with the scene playing out before her.
Bear’s tail moved against the cushion, a slow thump, thump. Lori stared down. His tail moved faster as Emma played louder. When he lifted his head and licked Emma’s cheek she giggled and pulled back.
“Bear give me kisses,” she said, smiling up at Lori. “He all better.”
Lori realized her mouth hung open, but she couldn’t find the strength to speak. She just stared. The puppy sat up and licked Emma’s face again. Her daughter giggled and half-heartedly tried to push him away. Bear’s shaggy body wriggled and squirmed as they slipped off the bench and onto the floor, his tail wagging madly. He stopped, looked up at Lori and yipped as though to say, “I was dead and now I live, why aren’t you happy?”
*****
THE STORM HAD COME and gone as quickly as Bear’s phantom injuries, leaving behind the scent of damp vegetation and rain-spotted windows. Sam hooked his arms around Lori’s waist where she stood at the stove stirring a simmering pot of spaghetti sauce. He breathed in the heady aroma of basil and garlic. “Mmm, smells good.” He kissed her cheek, then stepped back and leaned against the opposite counter watching her. “So–Bear pushed Emma away from Mr. Johnson’s car? Wow. That’s pretty cool.”
Lori turned around, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. Her husband grinned at her like a proud papa. “What’s wrong with you? Bear was dying, now he’s just fine, and all you can say is that it’s cool he pushed Emma out of the way?”
He shrugged and took a carrot stick from the bowl Lori had placed raw vegetables in. “It is cool. We wanted a dog that would protect our daughter and he did.” He crunched the carrot, still grinning.
“Yes, he did. And he should have died, but for some strange reason he’s in the backyard right now playing with Emma as though nothing ever happened.” Lori rubbed her hands over her face and shook her head. “I don’t understand. I know God can perform miracles and believe me I was praying for one, but...” she paused and glanced out the window where she could see her daughter rolling in wet grass with the puppy in question. “One minute she’s holding him and he’s motionless, and the next minute he’s jumping up and licking her nose.” Lori met her husband’s gaze. “Do you think God would heal a puppy just to keep a little girl from mourning?”
Sam stepped close and gathered her into his arms. He pressed his lips against the top of her head. She could feel his breath, slow and steady like the man he was. He never jumped to conclusions, as she tended to do. He was dependable, supportive and loving, but sometimes she wanted someone who felt what she felt, thought like she thought. Sam was way too cerebral.
He pulled back and smiled into her eyes. “Obviously Bear wasn’t injured as badly as you thought. He was probably stunned by the impact and was milking all the attention.”
She sighed and turned her back on him to resume stirring the pot of sauce. He didn’t believe her. He couldn’t believe her because he didn’t witness the scene, didn’t see the state of damage Bear was in at the time. It couldn’t have been her imagination; even Mr. Johnson thought the dog was dying. “I know what I saw,” she said softly.
“I’m sure it was terrifying for you, hon. Seeing Emma there in the street and then realizing she was okay, but Bear had been hit. You were probably in shock. I know I would have been.” He picked up another carrot and stepped toward the back door. “Maybe we should take Bear in to the Vet if you really think he’s hurt.”
“You know we can’t afford that right now. We barely covered the house payment this month. Until you get a regular job and don’t have to temp anymore, those two better not have any more accidents.”
He pulled open the door, grinning back at her. “I’ll be sure and let’em know to stay clear of accidents. Call us when dinner is ready,” he said and slipped out to play with Emma and Bear.
“Right.” Lori turned down the heat under the pot and opened the oven to check on the French bread. The tops weren’t browned yet. She set the timer for two more minutes and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.
She should feel ecstatic that Emma and Bear were both in perfect health, had come through the accident unscathed, and yet she questioned the outcome as though she didn’t deserve such mercy. She shook her head and rested her chin in her hands. Maybe she really was in shock, as Sam proposed. That would explain away everything. It would also negate the need to ask: how?
The oven timer buzzed, and she rose to her feet. Dinner was ready. Life could resume as normal.
*****
THE PHONE RANG HALFWAY through dinner. Sam sighed and dropped his fork. “It better not be another one of those mortgage people.” It rang again, and he just stared across the room at the far wall where it hung.
“You’re not going to know unless you answer it,” Lori said. She leaned across the table to wipe spaghetti sauce from her daughter’s chin.
Emma grinned and quickly shoved a meatball in her mouth with one chubby fist.
“Emma! Use your fork, not your fingers.” Lori met Sam’s stoic gaze with a lift of her brows when the phone rang a third time.
“All right.” His fork clattered against the plate where he dropped it. He stood up. It stopped ringing, but the answering machine picked up.
“Lori? This is Toby Johnson. Carolyn and I were talking about what happened earlier. I know your family is probably still dealing with...everything, but we wanted you to know how sorry we are.” There was a long drawn out pause and then he cleared his throat. “We decided it’s only right to buy you another dog. When you’re ready, that is. Just let us know. Bye now.”
“I don’t want “nother dog!” A frown of vehemence furrowed Emma’s brow. “I love Bear.” Bear thumped his tail at mention of his name but stayed curled up on the rug by the door.
“I told you so,” Lori whispered in an aside to Sam, and bit into another slice of crusty French bread.
*****
BEAR’S MIRACULOUS RECOVERY was the talk of the town for over a week. Mr. Johnson was so relieved when he heard Bear was fine, he bought the dog a box of puppy treats and left it on the doorstep with a bright red bow tied around it. But the news of a local girl running off on the morning of her wedding with a man she’d met on the Internet, stole the attention and ears of everyone in town. Bear’s heroic actions were forgotten in the flurry of more provocative gossip. Lori was glad for the shift in attention. She was tired of repeating the story time and again.
She bought a collar and leash for Bear and trained the dog and her daughter that crossing the street without an adult was very dangerous. The accident must have instilled a bit of caution in the puppy as well as in Emma because they took to playing in the yard rather than wandering out of bounds.
The incident also brought their family startling good fortune. The story came up during a job interview and Sam was offered a full-time position at Lively Pets, a chain of stores that catered to pets and their owners. The store’s current accountant was retiring, and they wanted someone who felt as strongly about pet ownership as they did. Sam’s glowing praise for Bear was all it took to cinch the deal. He would have to drive forty-five minutes to work each day, but the hike in income was more than enough to outweigh any inconvenience.
“You don’t know how great it feels to be able to pay these bills on time for once,” he said, bent over the small roll top desk in the corner of their bedroom. He smiled across the room where Lori sat propped up with pillows reading a book, Emma and Bear curled up asleep beside her on the bed. “Maybe we can even think about having another baby now.”
Lori dropped the open book across her lap and met his eager gaze with a quirk of her lips. “Thinking is all you’re going to be doing as long as these two are sleeping in our bed every night.”
He chuckled, closed the checkbook and slid it in the drawer of the desk. “I know, I know,” he said, standing, “but they look so cute curled up like that beside you.”
“Then it’s all for the best I guess.” Lori placed her book on the bedside table and rearranged the pillows for sleeping.
“What’s all for the best?” Sam asked. He pulled his shirt over his head and flipped off the lights. Lori felt him settle in on the opposite side of the bed, Emma and Bear between.
She blew out a soft breath and turned to her side. Emma’s foot connected with Lori’s stomach and she gently nudged her toward Sam. “That we have no opportunity to create another child. Our bed is already quite full as it is.” She smiled in the dark as Bear thrashed about and whimpered. Puppy dreams.
Sam reached over his daughter’s sleeping form and stroked Lori’s cheek. “All right. Tomorrow they start sleeping in their own bed.”
“Promises, promises,” Lori mumbled and slowly drifted off to asleep.