Average April

The month of April had been hot and miserable, with air so wet that the Southern town of Mystic Water felt like a South American rain forest. The whole town had been praying for rain and release from the spring swelter, but when the rains came, the storm washed everyone indoors for more than a day.

April Chandler had watched the rainstorm beating the town in heavy, fast-moving sheets of gray rain, and when she had fallen asleep the night before, she’d seen Jordan Pond creeping past its boundary. She’d told herself that if it were still raining Saturday morning, she would go stay with a friend. If the water continued to rise, she’d be the pond’s next resident, and April didn’t even want the soles of her feet in the lake water.

April dreamed of drowning once a night every week no matter how far she lived from the water, no matter that she hadn’t stuck a toe in wild waters since she was a nine-year-old reckless girl. The fact that the most affordable apartments in Mystic Water crowded against the rockiest side of Jordan Pond chafed her like a pair of wet blue jeans. Rent any higher than what Willow Apartments offered wasn’t a luxury she could afford. So, since the day she’d moved in, she always kept one wary eye on the pond, as though it might rise from its deep, muddy bed and pull her under the way the riptide had in the Atlantic Ocean. One second she’d been bodysurfing with her cousin off a Florida coast; the next she’d been snatched away in a current strong enough to drown her. If her teenage cousin hadn’t been there to rescue her, the ocean would have collected her then, adding her to its sunken treasures.

Saturday morning when April’s dreams filled with the continuous sound pattern of woof, bark, howl, squawk, she finally rolled over and groaned, creating a ripple of water that pushed away from her lips. She inhaled and sucked lukewarm pond water into her mouth. It coated her tongue like cough syrup and slid down her throat faster than her eyes could bulge.

April hacked the dirty water from her mouth, clutching one hand to her throat. Brown, silty water flowed all around her. Her canary yellow comforter looked like an inflatable raft trapped beneath the lake, and she sat up, waist deep in water, on her bed. Her breath escaped through her lips in short rasps as her pulse raced. She scrambled from beneath the sheets and stood on her bed, creating grimy waves in her bedroom that slapped against the beige walls. She wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed as the beginnings of a scream built low in her chest and pushed itself upward like a slow-forming bubble.

Jordan Pond had definitely flooded.

Woof, bark, howl, squawk. Woof, bark, howl, squawk.

The animals! April gasped and leaped off the bed toward the doorway without thinking about what might be hiding beneath the waves. She landed on an overturned, sunken end table, nearly twisting her ankle, and splashed sideways into the murk. April burst out of the water like a humpback whale, gagging and spewing water from her mouth. She lunged toward her bed, clawing at the drenched comforter, looking like a drowned, panicked cat, as she struggled to catch her breath.

Woof, bark, howl, squawk. Woof, bark, howl, squawk.

When her breathing slowed, she shoved her wet, blonde hair out of her face and eased off the bed, this time testing the floor for objects. When her toes touched the hardwood, she planted her feet firmly and then pushed through the waist-high water toward the living room.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re all going to be okay,” she repeated over and over again as she moved through her flooded apartment, inching her feet across the floor in cautious, slow steps. The mantra felt like a lie. How were they going to be okay? How was anything okay? The irregular beat of her heart made her feel nauseated.

April’s three dogs—a Chow-mix, a Springer Spaniel, and a Siberian Husky—sat on the long, narrow kitchen countertop that faced the living room. Her parakeet, Bird, paced on a perch inside his cage that was also on the counter with her dogs. April inhaled a startled breath. She quickened her pace and skirted the sopping couch.

“How did you get up there?” April asked them with a furrowed brow. Bird’s cage was by the front window when I went to bed. During the day, Bird enjoyed watching the goings-on outside, so his favorite spot was by the front windows, but April knew she hadn’t moved him last night.

Her dogs’ tails wagged in unison. Reggie, the Springer Spaniel, barked once, looked down at a chair from the kitchen table that had been pushed against the kitchen cabinets. The other two dogs looked at Reggie before barking once as well. Bird flapped his wings, gripped the side of his cage, and squawked a phrase that resembled the words thank you.

The dogs saved Bird?

The three dogs leaned toward her, rising on their wet haunches, looking as though they were ready to spring from the counter as soon as she said the word. She petted each head in turn.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. We—” she glanced down at the murky water, “we need to get out of here.” But how? I can’t carry them all at once. “Stay here. Please.”

The dogs sat, and Bird climbed back onto his perch and watched her, blinking his black, marble-like eyes.

April sloshed her way to the rectangular window beside the front door. Soft rose-colored lines of light highlighted the edges of the curtains like a pale neon light. April opened the blinds. An early morning sun inched upward from the horizon, stretching long rays of bubblegum pink light over Mystic Water.

Water lapped against the lower windowpanes, and Jordan Pond looked as though it had become the Atlantic overnight. The rain had stopped, but Jordan Pond had flooded the surrounding area like an overflowing bathtub. She shook her head, trembling.

There was no distinguishing the shore anymore; the flooded banks allowed the lake to take ownership of every building and house that had surrounded it. A steady current carried debris—swollen books, a child’s teddy bear, plastic Easter eggs—right past her front porch. She turned and looked at her pets as they waited for her words of wisdom and direction.

April’s fingers twitched as she flipped the bolt and unlocked the door. Lake water pushed against the hinges, and once the knob turned, a warm wave shoved open the door. A noodle-thin, banded water snake floated inside her apartment, riding on three oversize lily pads. April leaped backward, and the snake surfed the waves deeper into her home.

“I can’t do this! Everything…it’s gone. Underwater. I can’t do this,” she repeated before she caught sight of her dogs and Bird staring at her with tilted heads. “I want my normal, average life back. Can we go back to yesterday?”

April fisted her hands against her chest and leaned over as she inhaled a series of deep breaths. The defeatist urge to sit on her bed and cry rose up within her, but giving up seemed like the worst option.

She had to find a way out of her apartment with her pets and get all of them to dry land. The lily pads and the snake bumped into the refrigerator, and the reptile slithered up onto the kitchen counter, looping itself around the sink’s faucet.

“You,” she said and pointed at the snake, “stay there.” It lifted its head and stared at her. “I mean it. I won’t hurt you, but I’m not that crazy about your kind. Don’t you dare move or come near me because I will mostly certainly freak out. Major freak out ahead.” Aren’t you already freaking out? April shuddered and turned back toward the open front door and swollen Jordan Pond.

Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for anything helpful. The branch of an oak tree lumbered by, bobbing up and down. Then a scuffed, white, five-gallon paint bucket twirled by like a dancing buoy. Long stripes of bright yellow pollen clumps floated on top of the waves, along with fuchsia azalea blooms, yanked from their bushes. The pink-streaked sky reflected off the lake and tinted the dirty water the color of a strawberry ice cream Coke float. April lifted her hand to her throat and felt an anxious, irregular pulse beneath her fingertips.

“I need help.” I have no phone, no way to drive my car. Could I shout for help? The whole area seemed deserted of life. Had everyone else realized the pond was flooding? Had they all left for higher ground, leaving her trapped alone? “What I really need is a boat.” But April hadn’t been in a boat since childhood, and the thought of floating over deep water made her legs wobbly. Jordan Pond wasn’t the Atlantic, but there was a current now, coaxing objects toward its deepest parts.

April wandered into her bedroom, looking for her cell phone, already accepting that it was lost in the flood waters. She bit her bottom lip and squeezed water from her hair. A pair of bright yellow rain boots sailed like boats in her closet. She grabbed them, poured out the water, hopped onto the bathroom counter and pulled them on her feet. Better safe than stepping on an object of death with my bare feet. As soon as she slid off the counter and placed her feet in the water, her rain boots filled. She grabbed her matching yellow raincoat out of the closet and buttoned it up like a first grader going to school in the rain.

April shoved her hands into the pockets of her raincoat and waded back into her bedroom. “Is there anything in here we could float on?” She glanced at her sopping wet mattress. Would it float? It looked more like a giant sponge, weighted down by gallons of water. “Why couldn’t I have been into canoeing or kayaking? Then I’d have a boat.” Because a sport that includes water is a death sport. “There has to be something we can use to get out of here.”

She glanced down at a sheet of paper that floated by. Blue-inked words and images smeared across the lined paper like a watercolor drawing of ocean waves. The notebook paper hung like wet tissue paper in her hand. She’d stayed up late the night before crafting a detailed business plan for opening her own one-stop pet shop one day—a far-fetched dream, and not a dream that was likely to ever come true.

She’d drafted floor plans for how she wanted to lay out the different aisles of food and pet supplies, and she’d included grooming and training areas and green space behind the building. April had talked to her best friend, Leilah, for more than an hour bouncing ideas off of her and redrawing the plans, pretending that this idea would one day manifest itself in reality. But now all her handwritten notes and plans were mostly ruined, along with her belongings. She swiped a tear from her cheek. After waving the paper back and forth until it dried into a stiff sheet, she carefully folded it and slipped it into her raincoat pocket.

In the bathroom, she grabbed a ponytail holder off the counter top. As she twirled her blonde hair into a bun, she wondered, Why couldn’t I be clever at something useful? Like survival skills that would help me know what to do in a terrifying, life-threatening situation? Or just any normal, useful skill? If you need a special kind of dog food, I can help you. Your cat is acting weird? I’m your girl. You need to save your animals and yourself during a flood? Call me last, and I’ll have nothing beneficial to offer except optimism.

April’s thoughts halted when she heard something large splash into the water. She stumbled out of the bathroom and rushed into the living room. She glanced at the kitchen counter. Two dogs and one bird.

“Reggie!” she shouted, catching sight of her Springer Spaniel’s black and white tail end swimming out of the front door.

April dashed as fast as she could toward the door. She stopped on the threshold and panicked. Reggie was gone. Her throat closed, and she couldn’t breathe. Seconds later, April heard a bulky object knocking against the building, and she stepped just outside the front door, careful to grip the doorjamb. Reggie clenched a ragged rope in his mouth and swam back around the building, pulling along a rowboat with chipped, blue-speckled paint on its bow. April’s hope flickered to life.

“Reggie,” she called, waving from the doorway. “Good boy. Come here.”

The rowboat cleared the corner of the apartment building, and Reggie swam toward her, moving against the current. April reached out for him, beckoning him forward. The rowboat knocked against a column on the front porch. She grabbed hold of the rowboat as though it might crumble to dust beneath her fingers. She wedged the boat into place between the columns so that it wouldn’t float off.

An old oar that had lost most of its varnish laid across two of the bench seats. She saw no holes on the bottom, so the boat shouldn’t leak if she were to climb aboard. But there were no lifejackets. She would have to row herself to shore with her pets onboard without the safety of floatation devices.

I’ll have to get in a boat. What if I fall into the water? Then my pets would be left alone. In a boat. They might fall out too or be left alone for days until someone realizes they need help. They’d be so scared. They’d starve. Her mind caught on a thought. If I fall in, I’ll drown. I’ll drown. I’ll drown. I’ll drown.

Reggie released the rope and swam in a circle. April patted his head, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. “Thank you, good boy. But you can’t do that again. You can’t swim off into a wild current. It could have swept you away.”

Reggie barked at her, seeming to tell her, “But you said we needed a boat.”

“We did need a boat. You’re right. But you scared me, and I’m not sure it’s safe to get in a boat in this water. Let’s get you back into the house.” She leaned over to grab Reggie, but he swam away from her and into the apartment.

Reggie barked from the water, and the other two dogs barked in response. She turned to look at them, and her bottom lip quivered. They appeared to be rallying together, encouraging her to use the rowboat.

“I can’t get out there in that. We’ll wait. Someone will come help us. They’ll send out rescue parties. We’ll be okay until then,” she babbled. “It doesn’t look like rain anymore. The water will recede.” In a few days. What about food? And electricity? And indoor plumbing?

Reggie swam to the kitchen chair and then he hopped up onto the cramped counter. He glanced at the other dogs.

“Good boy,” April said. “Thank you for coming back inside and getting out of the water. The water isn’t safe.”

April shivered. There were places on the other side of the pond with lower elevations. If she’d been living in a bottom-floor apartment over there, she could have drowned in her sleep. April’s hands circled her throat, and she pressed her palms against her collarbones.

“We’ll be okay in here. We don’t have to get in the boat,” she said, talking to herself.

In her periphery, she saw a black and white streak leap into the air and splash into the water.

“No!” April yelled as she pushed herself through the water to grab Reggie.

Reggie’s head popped up, and he dogpaddled straight toward her, looking determined and confident that she’d lift him up out of the murk. April bent over and scooped him up, groaning beneath his weight.

“Why would you do that?” She struggled, leaning backward slightly, and carried him to the counter. Reggie squirmed in her arms. “Settle down, Reg.” He wriggled harder, so she stopped walking and tried to pet his head. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

Reggie pressed his legs against her chest and stomach and heaved himself out of her arms, using her like a springboard. April grunted as the wind pushed out of her lungs, and Reggie sailed through the air. A cannonball of water splashed April.

Reggie dogpaddled toward the front door, and April chased him.

“Stop!” she yelled. “Get back here. That is not where we should be going. We have to stay safe and dry,” she pleaded with him. “I appreciate you finding a boat, but we don’t need it. We aren’t going out into that,” she said, pointing at Jordan Pond.

Reggie swam right up to the boat and did a circle in the water; he turned to blink his dark brown eyes up at her.

April gaped at him. “What? You want to get in the boat?” Reggie barked once and tried to wag his tail. “You have got to be kidding me.” April heaved him out of the water and over the side of the rowboat.

Once inside the boat, he climbed onto the bench seat at the front and shook water from his coat. Then he sat down and barked at her. The two dogs inside the house barked in response. April gripped the edge of the boat and leaned toward Reggie.

“Reg,” she said in a quiet voice, “I don’t do water unless it’s a sink or a shower. And those few times I ran through the sprinkler in the yard. And the Slip ‘N Slide we made out of those trash bags. But lakes and oceans, no way. Not anymore.”

Reggie barked again, this time a soft, comforting sound as though he were trying to ease her mind, trying to convince her that it would be okay if they all got in the boat. April squeezed the edge of the boat and clenched her jaw. Blue paint flecked off on her palms. The pink sky tinted Reggie’s white fur a soft rose color.

“I don’t like this idea at all,” she said.

Reggie leaned over and licked her hand. April looked over her shoulder at the other two dogs. Then she made sure the rowboat was wedged between the columns on the front porch, eliminating the risk of Reggie floating away.

“Stay here,” she said, and Reggie lowered his head before lifting it again.

April grabbed the dogs’ leashes from the hooks by the front door, and she tossed them into the rowboat. Not that we’ll be walking anywhere right away… Then she pushed ripples of water toward the kitchen as she moved toward the dogs.

April pointed at her Chow-mix. “Okay, Zeus, you’re next. You can either swim to me, or I’ll carry you—”

The Chow-mix leaped from the counter like a dog in a competition leaps for a tennis ball. April tossed up her hands and protected her face from the wall of water that broke over her. Zeus’ head popped up above the surface, and he swam past her. She followed after him, and once he swam up beside the boat, she bent down and lifted him with a grunt. April struggled to lift his soaking wet body over the edge. He pushed off of her and tumbled out of her arms into the boat, sprawling in the small area. He regained his balance and shook water from his sable coat.

April chuckled. “You look like a drenched lion,” she said, and Zeus snorted at her. She rechecked the boat to make sure it wouldn’t move, and then she went back for Czar, her seventy-pound Siberian Husky.

Czar gripped Bird’s cage in his teeth, lifting it from the counter. April waved her arms. “That’s okay, buddy. I’ll get Bird. I’m not sure he wants to be dragged through the water.”

Bird squawked and Czar lowered the cage before he jumped from the counter like the other dogs, with his tongue hanging from his mouth and what looked like a smile on his face. His massive splash sent a wave over the back of the couch that rushed toward the front wall like a tsunami. Czar paddled toward her.

“This is going to take teamwork, big guy,” she said, leaning down and circling her arms around his midsection. “I’ll count to three, and then together we’re going to get you into the boat.” April counted, and on three Czar kicked his legs, and she heaved him over the side like a waterlogged sack of potatoes. She groaned and felt a muscle strain in her back.

Czar plopped onto the rowboat floor and then righted himself. He bounced once on his paws and licked April’s face as she leaned her elbows on the edge of the boat and breathed. Bird squawked from the kitchen. April pushed her hands against her lower back and arched, stretching her muscles.

April grabbed the parakeet’s cage off the counter and waded through the water to the rowboat. She placed the cage on the rear bench seat and stared at her dogs. Her throat tightened, and she closed her eyes, inhaling slowly.

“We can do this. We can paddle to shore, right?” April asked. “Okay, nice and slow, I’m going to crawl into the boat. Nobody move.” April slithered over the edge of the boat and dropped into the bottom where she lay trying to breathe around the panic that caused her heart to thump, thump, thump, thump. You can do this, April.

April pulled herself up onto the rear bench seat beside Bird’s cage. She reached for the oar, and all three dogs watched her with mouths hanging open and tongues lolling out. Reggie barked a few times, and the other two responded. Their woofs sounded like words of reassurance to her.

“At least you three think I’ll be able to do this,” she mumbled. Bird squawked and jumped onto his swing. “Sorry, four of you. I guess no one is taking it into account that I haven’t been in a boat in at least fifteen years. Can’t be too hard to row, right?”

April moved Bird’s cage so she could sit in the middle of the seat. She slipped the oar into the muddy water on the right side of the boat and pushed them away from the porch. The current caught the boat and pointed them in the opposite direction of the nearest shore. No way was April going to glide across Jordan Pond, which looked more like one of the Great Lakes now. She struggled for a few seconds before she was able to turn the nose of the rowboat so she moved against the current. She paddled a few hard strokes on the right side and then she dug into the water on the left. The boat moved at a slow but steady forward pace. Off in the distance a dog barked and then howled.

Reggie turned around on the bench seat and stared in the opposite direction of where the rowboat headed; his focused gaze locked on to something across the lake. He barked three times. Zeus and Czar shifted around on their seats, turning to look in same direction as Reggie. The boat rocked beneath their movements, and April paused rowing so she could grip the sides of the boat. Czar’s black ears perked up, pointed and alert, and he leaned back his head and howled. Zeus bayed beside him. Reggie continued barking. Bird screeched in his cage, flapping his colorful wings.

“Settle down,” April commanded. She squeezed the oar so hard in her hands she imagined it splintering into shards. “We all need to calm down if we’re going to get to shore.”

The animals quieted for a few moments. But the nose of the boat turned back into the current, pulling them away from her destination. “Nope, wrong way,” April said.

She lifted the oar and leaned over the edge of the boat. But she hovered the oar above the water because she noticed a row of tiny, black, round heads swaying just above the ripples. Five turtles swam alongside the boat and pushed it into the current. The boat rocked again beneath the shifting weight of her dogs. As the boat’s direction altered, her dogs changed positions on the seats, keeping their gazes focused on something across the lake.

“Listen, turtles, we’re going to shore, so push on.”

The turtles’ dark, wet eyes looked up at her, and for a few moments, they moved away from the edge of the boat. Their obedience startled her, but April dug the paddle back into the water and made a little headway as she rowed against the current. Then Reggie stood on all fours and propped his front paws on the edge of the boat; the rowboat dipped beneath his weight. He faced away from her, and his barks pitched higher and louder, sounding like an animal in an argument.

“Reggie, sit down,” she demanded.

He stopped barking long enough to cast a challenging gaze in her direction as a sound rumbled up his throat. April’s eyebrows raised.

“Are you growling at me?” She laid the oar across her lap and pointed at him. “No, sir. You get down right this minute, and you better not be talking back to me.”

Small bumps sounded against the hull, and April looked over the side of the boat. The five pond turtles returned and swam against the edge of the boat as they pushed April and her pets into the current. Czar howled and Zeus woofed as Bird latched on to the side of his cage and squawked so loudly that April cringed.

“Have all of the animals gone crazy? What is happening here? Reggie, sit down on the bench now.” She slapped the paddle back into the water. “I don’t want to hurt y’all, turtles, but if you don’t move away from the boat, this oar is going to hit you.”

Reggie jumped up and rocked the boat. April fell sideways and rocked the boat even more. One shin cracked against the middle bench seat and the other slammed into Bird’s cage, which pitched him sideways and sprawling against his metal confines. April winced and steadied herself on the bench.

“Bird, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

His chirped weak response combined with his eyes blinking up at her in disbelief had her squatting beside him. She righted his cage and unlatched the door. She offered her hand to him.

“Let me check you,” she said as Bird wobbled to his feet.

Before Bird reached her hand, Czar and Zeus joined Reggie in his enthusiasm, howling and jumping. The boat pitched, and April gripped the sides of the boat.

“What are y’all doing?” she asked her dogs, anger coloring her hoarse voice.

Then April heard it. The far-off, mournful wail of a frightened dog. The sound traveled across the dirty raspberry-colored lake water. She pushed herself into a sitting position and looked across the lake. She noticed that her dogs followed her gaze. The dog’s cry sounded unmistakable in her ears. He’s trapped and calling for help. Has someone left his pet behind? Has an animal awoken too late, like me, and is walled in by the flood?

“Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” she asked her pets. “There’s a trapped dog?”

All three dogs barked and bounced on their paws. Bird squawked and flew out of his open cage door. His stunning, sky-blue wings flapped and lifted him high above the rowboat. April clambered to her feet and reached up for him, calling his name over and over again. But he flew toward the dog crying across the lake.

April grabbed the paddle, demanded that all three dogs sit down, which they did, and she started rowing, calling Bird’s name until her throat became scratchy and irritated. Bird continued on his path across the water for a couple of minutes, but then he turned and flew to the east. April kept her eyes turned toward him. She thought about not being able to catch Bird, and anxiety quickened her irregular heartbeat. Bird had not been raised in the wild. How would he survive if she couldn’t care for him?

Bird’s flight slowed, and he circled in the air like a turkey vulture closing in on carrion. April increased her speed. As she neared him, she saw an oversize, florescent orange tractor tire floating in the water. The painted tire was in the shape of a horseshoe, the bottom half cut clean away. It was the type of tire that would have been half-buried in a child’s playground. She remembered climbing on them in kindergarten. A waterlogged, skinny calico cat stood on the tire, crying out a pitiful meow. It turned its eyes toward April and her crowded rowboat.

April glanced up at Bird, still circling above the cat, and smiled. “Wow, good job, Bird.” April rowed toward the tire that floated steadily toward the center of the lake. “Hang on, kitty. We’re coming for you.”

Then April remembered that Czar would hunt down and wrestle any animal smaller than a cocker spaniel. His wrestling was often rough and dangerous, and she’d had to drag him away, black nails digging into the dirt, from squirrels and rabbits many times during walks through the park. How would she ever put a cat in their boat and have everyone survive? April looked at her dogs.

“This is serious,” she said as her pets watched her like an attentive audience. “We need to save this cat, and I need all of you to behave. Do you understand me? Czar, this is especially for you.” Czar’s head dipped before his pale blue eyes stared into hers. “Think about how you would feel all alone out here in the water. We’re a team, and we’re going to work together.” Czar howled, and the other two dogs woofed. April nodded at them, feeling as though they were all in agreement. “Thank you.”

She rowed the last few feet to the floating tire and glided alongside it. “Please be friendly,” she said to the feline. “We’re all friends here, and I’m going to pick you up and put you in the boat. I would appreciate you not clawing me to death while I try to rescue you.”

The cat meowed and moved toward April’s outstretched hands. April lifted the wet animal, hugged her against her chest for a few moments, and petted the cat’s head. Then she placed the sopping animal on the bench beside her. Bird circled over the boat, and the dog in the distance howled, sounding much closer now. Bird flew in the direction of the howl, and April paused long enough to make sure the animals in the boat were going to behave. When they all remained quiet and calm, April sighed, and her shoulders relaxed.

April had always felt a close connection with animals. She’d grown up with parents who talked about her special gifts with all creatures as if they were amazed and proud, but April hadn’t believed her talents were anything unique—nothing more than possibly having a soothing voice or a gentle manner. Being a middle child of three daughters, April felt inadequate compared to the boldness and ferocity of her oldest sister. And she didn’t feel dependent enough on her parents to relate as well to her younger sister. She’d always felt like average, ordinary April.

But because of her parents’ comments, she’d gone to school to be a vet tech, and she’d been working at Ingles Veterinary Hospital for five years. But now, sitting in a rowboat, with a stray cat that could have clawed out her eyes and the eyes of her three dogs—one of which would gladly toss a cat around like a dog toy—she wondered if she didn’t possess an above average talent. Did animals understand what she was saying? Did they trust her innately?

April rowed after Bird, following the sound of the frightened baying of the trapped dog. Her dogs turned their attentions toward Bird and the approaching shoreline. When she glanced down at the oar cutting through the water, she saw the five turtles off the port bow, swimming alongside the boat. Their heads would rise above the water and then they’d duck back under, continuing their forward course. A school of lake carp rushed through the water beneath the boat and appeared on the other side of her.

The homes on the far side of the lake sat at a much lower elevation than her apartment. The floodwaters covered the first floor on most of the houses, and some suffered worse as the water breached the second-floor windows. Bird flew to a two-story brick home and landed on the black-shingled roof. His sapphire-blue body stood out in stark contrast to the dark house. Ripples from the moving water splashed against the saturated porch roof, and the lake hid the entire first floor.

A window on the second floor was open, and a shaggy Pekingese stood with its paws on the sill. When the dog saw April and her crew, its mournful howl turned into savage, raspy yaps.

“Not the friendliest fellow,” April muttered. “But he’s just guarding his home, and we can’t leave him.”

April paddled toward the house, thinking through a strategy. She wondered if the dog would come willingly, jump out of the window onto the roof, and then walk down to them. The closer they got to the house, the louder and wilder the small dog barked. April’s dogs grew restless, shifting on the benches, and the calico pressed against her side as she rowed. She doubted the Pekingese would voluntarily leap from the window toward a stranger, which meant she would have to get out of the rowboat. She pressed her lips together and inhaled slowly through her nose.

The boat eased up beside the porch roof, and April pressed her hand against the shingles so she could straighten the boat. The turtles swam up beside the boat closest to the open water and pressed their shells against the side, further anchoring them against the house.

April grabbed the dogs’ leashes and made sure they were clipped together securely to form one long leash. She put her hand beneath the water to feel for a porch column. When she found it, she looped one end of the leashes around the column and tied it off. Then she tied the other end of the leashes around a bench seat, pulling the line tight to keep the boat docked beside the porch roof.

She glanced up at the Pekingese, who continued to bark at them, baring his teeth at either her or her dogs or at all of them.

“Hey, buddy,” she called, “we’re here to help you. My name is April Chandler. This is Czar, Reggie, Zeus, and Callie.” She looked down at the cat. “I hope you don’t mind the nickname for now.” The cat meowed. “And Bird is on the roof. Do you want to come down here with us?”

A low noise grumbled up the dog’s throat, and then he moved away from the windowsill, disappearing from view. After a minute and he hadn’t returned, April wrinkled her forehead.

“I wanted him to come down on his own so I wouldn’t have to get out of the boat.” April pictured herself climbing onto the porch roof, scaling the slight incline, losing her balance, and falling into the water, all the while Czar would be pouncing on helpless Callie. She imagined the entire rowboat capsizing. She gripped the edge of the porch eave until her knuckles paled.

Her gaze jerked up toward the window when she heard coughing. There was someone in the house. Why had someone stayed during the flood? The coughing continued, dry and gasping.

April did a sweeping point of her finger at all of the animals. “All of you must behave. There’s someone up there, and I need to make sure he’s okay. There’s a good chance we’re going to be taking on two more travelers, so we’ll make room…somehow. So behave. That’s not a suggestion. Everybody understand?”

Reggie barked in agreement, and the other two dogs barked too. Callie purred, rubbing her warm nose against April’s hand. From the rooftop, Bird squawked. April put both hands on the roof and climbed out of the rowboat. She crawled Spider-Man style up the roof, slow and careful. When she reached the second-floor window, she gripped the windowsill and pulled herself into a low crouch.

She peered into a dark bedroom. “Hello?” As her eyes adjusted, she saw movement on the bed when the white Pekingese stood on high alert and stared at her. The room smelled dank like a mix of firewood left out in the rain and the spicy dash of a man’s aftershave.

“Hey, buddy,” she said, reaching out one hand with her palm facing up. “It’s okay. I’m here to help. Is someone here with you? Is your mommy or daddy home?”

A large object moved on the bed, followed by a groan, and April realized someone was lying down. His wrinkled face came into focus.

“Who are you?” he asked before he started coughing again. His coughs were harsh and dry, and he rolled onto his side. A carafe of water and an empty glass sat on a bedside table. The Pekingese growled from the edge of the bed.

When his coughs subsided, she answered, “I’m April. I’m sorry to intrude like this. But the whole area is flooded. I live across Jordan Pond, and my apartment is flooded too.” She pointed over her shoulder.

The man sat up on the bed, grunting and groaning while he moved. Sunlight eased its way into the bedroom. His button-down pajama set sported blue pinstripes on white cotton. His thick, white hair laid perfectly combed against his head with the exception of a cowlick right in the front where his part started. He pressed his mouth into his arm at the bend and coughed again. His hand trembled as he reached for the glass carafe and filled the cup with water.

He drank half a glass, and then he petted his dog. “Hell of a rain we got. We thought we could wait it out, but it never stopped rising until early this morning. Are you part of a rescue crew? How did you know we were in here?”

April smiled. “If the rescue crew is out, I haven’t seen them. As for how we found you, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but it involves an armful of turtles, my three dogs, my parakeet, a lost rowboat, and your dog calling out to us.” The orange, morning light from the window shined on the man’s face, and April recognized him. “Mr. Edwards?”

He returned the glass to the end table. “That’s right.”

Frank Edwards owned Mystic Water’s downtown pet shop, Skippy Doo’s Pet Store, where April bought all of her dogs’ pet food, toys, treats, and anything else they needed. Mystic Water’s history told stories about Skippy Dumas who grew up on a peanut farm outside of town in the 1940s. He had a gentle way with his family’s farm animals, seeming to understand them when no one else could, and they followed him around like his personal pets. As he grew older, other farmers sought out Skippy for animal advice and assistance. He eventually opened a pet shop so that he could help everyone in town with a variety of animal-related needs. He called the store Skippy Doo’s because that was the nickname his grandma gave him when he was a boy.

Mr. Edwards had owned the pet shop since the ’70s, and April remembered going into the store ever since she was a little girl with a runty beagle named Snoopy. Mr. Edwards had seemed like an old man then, and now he seemed ancient. And possibly sick.

“I’m April Chandler. I come into your store a lot. I have three rescues, a Chow-mix, Siberian Husky, and Springer Spaniel. I also have a parakeet—beautiful and blue and a tad noisy when he doesn’t get his way.”

Mr. Edwards nodded. “I remember.” He coughed again and closed his eyes. Then he opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out a bag of cough drops. “Czar likes the bacon-flavored treats only. He’s a picky fellow. Handsome but picky.”

April chuckled. “Yes sir, that’s right. Are you—are you sick, Mr. Edwards?”

He unwrapped the cough drop and popped it into his mouth. “Bronchitis. Last two miserable weeks. Can’t seem to get well.”

April tossed her thumb over her shoulder. “I have a rowboat docked off your…off your porch. I think we should get you out of here. I can take you and your dog. I don’t think we’ll have any kind of services working again for at least a week.” April doubted the structural integrity of the house would remain sound for long if the house stayed underwater for days. “It’s not safe to stay here.”

“Where are your animals?” he asked, putting his bare feet on the floor. The house creaked around them.

“The dogs are on the boat. I also rescued a cat on the way over. And Bird is on your roof.” She pointed toward the ceiling.

Mr. Edwards shook his head and looked down at his dog. “Sparky will never go for that. He’s not dog friendly. In fact, he’s not friendly at all, but nobody wanted him, and I couldn’t stand to take him to the shelter.” Sparky sat down on the edge of the bed and huffed.

April puffed out her cheeks and exhaled in response. Is anything about today going to be easy? Doubtful. Sparky watched her from his perch on the bed. “Do you mind if I talk to him?”

Mr. Edwards laughed; it was a dry, croaky sound but revealed his delighted surprise. The sunlight crept across his bedroom floor and touched the edges of his toes. “Knock yourself out.”

April looked over her shoulder. The passengers on the boat below remained quiet, and April heard the sound of lake water lapping against the porch eaves. She shouted, “I’ll be back soon. Keep behaving.” She looked at Mr. Edwards and then at Sparky.

“Hey, buddy,” April cooed, “y’all are in quite a pickle here. I get that you’re not a people person—or people dog—but I also think you’ve been worried. My dogs heard you calling for help, and they convinced me to come. I didn’t want to row across this lake because I’m scared of the water, but I did it anyway. Maybe you’re a little scared right now too, but we can all work together as a team and get everyone to dry land. Once we’re safely on shore, you can ditch us immediately, but until then, I’d like to give y’all a ride. If you could behave for a brief time, I’m confident my dogs will treat you with top-notch manners. What do you say? Will you come with us?”

Sparky narrowed his small eyes, tilted his head, and then jumped down from the bed. He trotted over to April and sat down in front of the window. A smile stretched across her face, and she looked up at Mr. Edwards.

“How in the world—?” he asked. “I wouldn’t have believed anyone could charm Sparky. He likes me only about half the time. The other half I think he merely tolerates me because he knows I’m where his food comes from.”

April shrugged. “I have a way with animals.”

Mr. Edwards smiled and nodded his head. “I’ll say.”

April reached down and scratched Sparky behind his ear. “I’ll get Sparky in the boat, and then I’ll come back for you.”

“I’ll get changed,” he said as he stood from the bed.

April held out her arms, and Sparky jumped into them. April patted his head. “Thanks, buddy. You’re a real sport.”

April held Sparky against her chest and sat on her bottom so she could scoot slowly down the roof like an inchworm. The animals in the rowboat watched April and Sparky work their way toward them. Before April put Sparky in the boat, she said, “It’s going to be a tight fit. This is turning into a Noah’s ark situation—an impossible possibility. Sparky has agreed to endure us for the ride. Please be accommodating. I’m going back up for Mr. Edwards.”

April placed Sparky into the rowboat, and he shook himself out, dog tags jingling on his collar like tiny bells. Then he sat down on the bench seat. April’s dogs and Callie the cat looked at the newcomer, but none of them moved. The rowboat rocked in the waves and thumped against the porch roof.

She crawled back up the roof and found Mr. Edwards waiting for her next to the window. He’d changed into a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. His white, well-worn tennis shoes were tied with fat, loose shoestrings. He folded the cough drop bag in half and April reached out for it. She shoved the bag into her raincoat pocket.

Before April could ask Mr. Edwards if he could climb out of the window, he turned around and stuck one leg out the window and then the other. He pressed his toes against the roof as he eased out. He gripped the windowsill and turned to face the lake. His gaze passed over the flooded area, and he shook his head.

“It hasn’t flooded like this since I was a teenager,” he said. “We lived on a hill back then, and it looked like an island for days. I watched people rowing around, picking up neighbors, finding lost treasures, rescuing animals. A menagerie of critters appeared on our island, all trapped when the waters rose. There were cats in our pecan trees, and I remember a Labrador that had climbed into our dogwood and perched there like a jaguar. We finally got him to jump into a bedsheet stretched between my brother and me.” Mr. Edwards swayed on his feet as a warm wind blew across the lake.

April reached out to grab his arm. “Easy does it down the roof. It might be easier if we sit down and—”

Mr. Edwards pressed one hand against his chest and coughed hard. It rattled deep in his tired lungs, and he bent over, pitching forward. His knees buckled as his cough intensified. He tilted too far to the right and tumbled. April caught the edge of his shirt sleeve, but his falling weight snatched the fabric from her fingers. He rolled down the roof like Jack and Jill must have tumbled down the grassy hill, arms and legs flailing, struggling to grip anything. His cough turned into a choking sound in his shock. April watched horrified with her heart pounding in her throat.

An image of him falling into the lake and sucking water into his stressed lungs filled her mind, and she rushed down the roof, tripping over her own feet but remaining upright. Bird screeched from the roof ridge. Mr. Edwards rolled straight off the roof and splashed into the water. April lunged for him, slamming her stomach flat against the shingles and reaching for him.

Air rushed from her flattened lungs as she grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled. Mr. Edwards’ head breached, and he coughed up water. Tiny scratches caused by the asphalt shingles marred his face, and a bruise was already forming on his forehead.

“I got you,” April groaned as she tried to pull him toward her. His weight inched her farther off the edge of the roof.

Mr. Edwards grabbed ahold of the rowboat. All of the animals shifted to one side of the boat so that he wouldn’t capsize them as he held on. April sensed their anxiety. Turtle heads popped up above the water and formed a semicircle around Mr. Edwards.

He cast a steady gaze up at her. April felt her heartbeat in her throat. Cardinals and blue jays twittered from the trees. A mockingbird called from a pine. They both exhaled.

She wiggled backward to lessen the stress on her lower back. “You bumped your head. Are you okay? Can you focus?”

He nodded. “I didn’t know you had a twin onboard.”

April gasped, but Mr. Edwards chuckled.

“That’s a joke. I’ve bonked my head harder than that.” He glanced at the turtles. “Friends of yours?”

“Appears so. Can you hold on to the boat long enough for me to get in and pull you up?”

Mr. Edwards coughed but nodded his head again. When he breathed enough air into his lungs, he said, “I don’t think you’re strong enough to lift me into the boat.”

April wasn’t so sure either; she frowned and pressed her top teeth into her lower lip. She’d seen a few Discovery Channel shows about people whitewater rafting or kayaking, wondering why anyone would sail down rapids voluntarily. When a rider had fallen overboard, the others would pull that person back into the boat using the lifejacket. But Mr. Edwards wasn’t wearing a lifejacket; there was nothing to grab on to.

How am I going to pull him in? What if I can’t lift him? Her breaths quickened. I lifted a 70-pound Husky into a rowboat, but Mr. Edwards weighs more than double what Czar weighs.

“I’ll need your help,” she said. And a small miracle.

April inched herself backward, and the shingles scratched her exposed skin as she shimmied up the roof. Then she pushed herself up and sat flat on her butt for a few seconds, inhaling air, telling herself not to hyperventilate. Now is not the time to fall apart. Get Mr. Edwards into the boat. Get everyone to dry land. Then have a breakdown. Have a full-blown weep-fest once this is over, if you want to. But right now, hold it together.

She climbed into the boat, slid her rain boots in between the boat’s wooden slats and wedged the rubber toes. Mr. Edwards watched her as he gripped both hands onto the side of the boat. April leaned over and hooked her forearms beneath his armpits. She tightened her quadriceps and counted to three. Then she pulled him upward and toward herself, leaning back into the rowboat.

Mr. Edwards’ torso lifted out of the water, and he tried to pull himself up using his arms. But the exertion caused a coughing fit. His body convulsed, and he slipped from April’s grip and fell back into the lake. April snatched for him, grabbing hold of his arm and pulled. His face resurfaced, and he hacked while she draped his arm over the side of the boat.

April’s body trembled and warm tears rolled down her face. Mr. Edwards’ ruddy cheeks sagged, and in the sherbet orange morning light, his deeply lined face looked weary. He leaned his head against his arm and sighed. For a minute, neither one of them spoke. April’s mind cycled through a short list of options, each one having a fatal flaw or level of absurdity that she knew wouldn’t work. Asking him to hold on to the side of boat while I row us to shore sounds like a bad idea. There’s no telling what’s floating beneath the surface of the lake.

“Getting old is the pits,” he said, interrupting her spiraling, pity-filled thoughts. “In my younger days, I could have swam across this lake a half dozen times without getting tired, back when Betty Lou was watching me from her red-striped towel. Now I can’t even pull my worn-out body into a boat. Shameful.”

His sad smile and distant gaze created an ache in April’s chest.

She shook her head. “You’re sick, and you’re working with an unfair disadvantage. We’re going to figure this out.” We have to.

Callie meowed, and April turned to look at the calico cat drying in the sunshine. The short, spiky fur around her face puffed out like a lion’s mane. April pictured Callie on the neon orange tractor tire turning slow circles in the lake as it drifted in the current. She scanned the waters around them and spotted the tire.

“Mr. Edwards, do you think you could hold on to the roof for a few minutes? I have an idea. I need five minutes, maybe six, and I need to take the boat.”

His green eyes widened, and April saw the fleeting panic he felt at the idea of being left alone. April placed her hand on his.

“I promise I’ll come right back. In fact,” she said, looking at Reggie, “I’m going to leave my best swimmer with you. Reggie, wait here on the roof with Mr. Edwards.”

Reggie barked. The animals moved around on the boat so that Reggie could jump onto the roof. April scratched Reggie’s head and smiled. She helped Mr. Edwards walk his hands around the boat until he could grip the edge of the roof.

April looked up at her parakeet, who paced back and forth along the ridge. “Bird, you start squawking if something happens.” The bird chirped in response. “There’s a column right here,” she said, pointing to the area below Mr. Edwards. “Can you feel it with your feet? Wrap your legs around it if that makes you feel more comfortable. Reggie is here with you, and I promise I’ll be back.”

Mr. Edwards glanced up at Reggie, whose gentle, brown eyes peered down at him. Sparky propped his front paws on the edge of the rowboat and looked at Mr. Edwards. Sparky yapped twice, and one side of Mr. Edwards’ lip lifted in a half smile.

“Don’t worry about me, Sparky. I’m in good hands—paws. Now get going,” he said to April, “so you can get on back.”

April reached beneath the water and untied the leashes anchoring the boat to the porch column. She dropped them into a coiled pile on the boat floor. “Hold on to your britches,” she said to the animals as she grabbed the oar and pushed away from the house. She caught sight of the floating tire again and rowed across the lake. April pulled the paddle through the water faster than her heartbeats, inhaling the humid air.

April rowed alongside the tire. The turtles swam on the opposite side of the tire, pushing it closer to April. She tried to lift it with the grunt. The tire raised out of the water an inch before April dropped it. The splash sent the turtles coasting away from her.

“This thing weighs a ton. I’m going to need to rethink working out. In my defense, this is a giant tire.” Panic tightened her stomach before another idea burst forward in her mind. She grabbed the leashes, tied them to the rear bench seat, and reached for the tire again. April looped the cord around the tire and secured it with a double knot.

She rowed back to the house, shifting her gaze from Mr. Edwards to the tire sailing along behind them. The turtles followed. Mr. Edwards smiled in relief as she neared. She paused the paddle so she could drift up beside the porch roof without knocking the boat into him.

“Ever been tubing on a lake?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Not in fifty years.”

“Good,” April said. “Long enough for you to forget how fun it was because this will be the worst tubing experience you ever have. Slow and boring, I suspect.”

In less than five minutes, Mr. Edwards had both arms hugging the tractor tire, Reggie returned to the boat, and April coaxed Bird from the roof and back into his cage.

“Everyone present and accounted for? Thanks for the help, turtles,” she said as she sat down and paddled toward the driest shore, straight toward town. “Land ho.”

The closer they got to land, the harder her heart pounded. We’re going to make it. By the time April ran the rowboat aground on the soggy Bermuda grass, a small group of people had spotted them and gathered to wait. Someone wrapped an oversize towel around Mr. Edwards. April reached into her raincoat pocket, pulled out his cough drops, and handed them to him. Then someone led him to higher ground. He coughed and fumbled with a wet cough drop wrapper before popping the red candy into his mouth. He shoved the bag into his front pocket and shuffled up the hill. Sparky jumped out of the boat and trotted after his owner.

April resisted help initially until she could get her dogs leashed and out of the boat. She grabbed Bird’s cage and handed Reggie, Zeus, and Callie to the closest willing helper. April tromped uphill toward the street as Czar tugged her forward, happy to be on land again and always willing to drag her anywhere.

Mr. Edwards waited for her at the crest of the hill, just off the side of the street. Downtown looked mostly untouched by the heavy rains except for water puddles and soaked awnings. People wandered up and down the sidewalks, talking to and helping one another. Children splashed in puddles and laughed.

“Well, Miss Chandler,” Mr. Edwards said, “you were wrong about one thing. Tubing this morning wasn’t boring at all. I can’t wait to tell my breakfast buddies at Scrambled about the experience. I bet none of them has been pulled by a rowboat while hanging on to a tractor tire.”

April laughed. “I hope not, but it’ll make for an interesting conversation.”

“Thank you for rowing across the lake to rescue us,” he said. “You’re quite the adventurer.”

April laughed again. “Me? No way. I’m just an ordinary, regular girl. Average April, at your service.”

Mr. Edwards lifted one eyebrow and tilted his head, looking at her like Czar did when he questioned her. “You rescue homeless animals, you rowed across a lake to help a stranger even though you’re afraid of water, a bale of turtles befriended you, you charmed my ornery dog into riding with your menagerie, you convinced me to hang on to a tire while you rowed us across a lake, and the whole time, I never doubted you’d make sure we were okay. That’s hardly average.”

April kicked the yellow toe of her rain boot against a patch of loose grass. “That sounds like a bigger deal than it actually was.”

Mr. Edwards touched her arm. “To an old man who might not have gotten out of his house at all, it is a big deal. You stop by the store soon. I’ll treat you to ice cream from Scooper’s.”

April nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

An older man recognized Mr. Edwards and called him over. April said good-bye, and one of the townsfolk offered her a cell phone. April called her best friend, Leilah, who had been panicking and calling April’s lost phone for more than an hour. Leilah promised she would be there soon to load up April and the animals. While she waited, April sat on the hill with her crew and stared down at Jordan Pond, trying not to fret about what she was going to do with her life now that she’d lost nearly everything.

A week and a half later when Jordan Pond had receded enough for residents to return to their wrecked homes and apartments, Leilah drove April to her building so she could meet an insurance adjuster regarding her flooded car. The air-conditioner filled the car with air that reeked like a swamp, like decay and stagnant water. Ruined items littered the sides of the road, making it look as though a trash truck had dropped its contents during a high-speed police chase. A muddy Easter wreath hung from a dogwood tree, and an overturned Hot Wheels plastic tricycle lay sideways in muck and clumped newspapers. People busied themselves outdoors cleaning and filling oversize, black lawn bags with lost belongings and trash.

April rolled down the car window and listened to the high-powered hum of industrial fans and shook her head. “This place looks like a disaster area. I don’t think I even want to see my apartment.”

Leilah pushed her black hair behind her shoulders and glanced over at April. “We’ll go in together. If there’s anything we can save, we’ll box it. A lot of your stuff can be washed. I bet you’ll be surprised at all the things we can salvage.”

April looked at the boxes in the backseat of Leilah’s car and sighed. “And all the things that we can’t save? It’s like going to college all over again, with no money, no stuff, but minus the excitement and hope of what is to come.”

Leilah looked at her and smiled. “At least we’re not still eating Campbell’s soup right out of the can anymore. The important thing is that you and your animals were saved. What would I do without my best friend?”

“You’d have more space in your apartment right now,” April said, trying to return Leilah’s smile. “But where am I going to live? I can’t stay with you forever. You’re going to get tired of living with all of us. Your place is a zoo. I don’t even have a car,” April whined.

“One step at a time,” Leilah said. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. And my place is a well-controlled zoo, thanks to your lion taming skills.” She poked April’s arm with her finger. “Let’s get your car sorted first.”

April leaned her arm on the door and propped her chin on it as she stared out the window, breathing in the dank, muggy breeze.

The adjustor didn’t even need half an hour to tell April her car was totaled. He handed her paperwork, she signed it, and he told her someone would contact her in a few days. She should receive a check within a week or two, and then she could proceed with making plans for what to do next. April mentally added Find a new car and figure out my life to her short to-do list.

Her apartment was a wasteland of mud, sticks, garbage, and stink. Streaks of yellow pollen made it look like someone had tagged chalk graffiti signs all over the floors and walls. Bruised and wilted azalea blooms cluttered every corner. April spent the first two minutes feeling sorry for herself and crying in the kitchen. Then Leilah pulled her out of her funk—physically dragging her off the kitchen counter top and mentally encouraging her. They boxed up what few things they collected—dog toys that could be washed, dishes in the cabinets, the clothes hanging above the waterline in her closet, a few pictures on her dresser.

After leaving April’s apartment, they drove through town so that Leilah could stop at the pharmacy. While Leilah went inside, April walked down Main Street and turned onto 2nd Avenue toward the pet shop. A bell jingled when she pulled open the front door, and the sounds of animals greeted her. The combination of noises and smells inside Skippy Doo’s reminded April of a zoo, and she smiled at the busyness within.

Four Labrador puppies, raised by locals, wrestled and pounced on one another inside of a large open-top pen in a corner of the front window. A couple of parakeets talked to each from inside their cage. The pet shop’s mascot—an oversize orange cat named Garfield—meowed at April from the checkout counter. Mr. Edwards stepped out of the supply room with one of the workers, Nate.

“Good morning, Miss Chandler,” Mr. Edwards said as a wide smile stretched across his face. He looked healthier than the last time she’d seen him. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to come by and see me. How’ve you been?”

He pulled her into an unexpected hug, and April tensed for a few seconds before she relaxed.

“It’s been an adjustment. Still looking for a place to live. I’ve been bunking with my best friend, Leilah Hamilton. She’s been great, but it’s crowded in a way that no friend can deal with forever.”

He nodded. “I’ve been staying with my son, but I’m ready to have my own space again. I’m not sure I can take much more of the endless TV shows about people cooking meals over and over again.”

Nate stacked two bags of dog food on a shelf and walked over to scratch Garfield behind his ears. April heard the cat purring from where she stood. A small dog bounded out of the backroom and trotted over to April.

She knelt down. “Well, hey there, buddy,” she said as she petted Sparky’s head. “You’re looking well.”

Sparky sat in front of her and seemed pleased with the attention. Nate crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the end of a shelf.

“I’ve worked here for two years,” Nate said, “and he has never let me pet him, not even when I try to bribe him with treats.”

April smiled up at Nate and shrugged. “We bonded over a shared trauma.”

“Nate,” Mr. Edwards said, “can you watch the store for a half hour?” When Nate nodded, Mr. Edwards looked at her. “Let’s go get that ice cream we talked about.”

April texted Leilah to tell her to meet them at Scooper’s when she finished at the pharmacy. Then April and Mr. Edwards walked up the street and discussed how the flood had affected the town and others they knew, how they’d both volunteered in different areas with cleaning, hauling off garbage, and repairs. Then they talked about his house and when restoration would begin, and he suggested different complexes where April might find a place to rent.

Inside Scooper’s Mr. Edwards ordered a cup of rocky road ice cream, and April ordered one scoop of butter pecan in a cake cone. They chose a front table near the window so they could watch passersby. As soon as they sat down, Mr. Edwards pulled a sheet of folded paper out of his breast pocket, laid it on the table, and slid it toward April. She questioned him with her eyes.

“I want to talk about this,” he said.

With one hand, April touched the folded, wrinkled paper. It looked like it had been through the washing machine, and it felt brittle and stiff beneath her fingers. She unfolded it, careful not to tear it along the deep, water-marked creases. She flattened the open sheet, and her eyes widened.

Blue ink smeared across the lined paper, but parts of the drawing were still intact. April recognized her handwriting and the plans she’d sketched for a pet store. These ruined designs had floated up to her on the day of the flood, she’d shoved them into the pocket of her raincoat, and then she’d never seen them again. She hadn’t given much thought to her dreams; her mind was too cluttered with more important issues, like a home, a car, how to adjust to her circumstances. April looked up at him.

“Where did you get this?” she asked. Butter pecan ice cream dripped down the cone and onto her hand.

“It was stuck to my cough drop bag,” he said. “Eat your ice cream.”

April licked the dripping ice cream from her hand and then licked around the cone. Her heart felt fluttery in her chest.

“Half of this is ruined, but I can still make out the basic design. Do you want to open a pet store?” he asked.

April averted his gaze. “Well, I—I like animals, and I thought one day…I mean, it’s a dream and not even a realistic one, but, yeah, I like to think about it. I mean, I wouldn’t do that while you had a shop here,” she blurted. “I’m not trying to take away your business or get into competition with you—”

Mr. Edwards laughed, and April stopped talking.

“I’m old, April,” he said. “I have loved working here and owning this shop, but I’d like to think I can retire one day. I haven’t wanted to quit working before there was someone who could take over the shop for me. I don’t want to leave my people—my patrons—without a place to go. I’ve had offers, but I don’t want to sell to just anybody. My animals are special, and the townspeople need someone they can trust.”

April nodded and licked her ice cream. “Are you interested in remodeling?” she asked, thinking he wanted to use her design and revamp his shop to entice the perfect owner.

Mr. Edwards spooned a marshmallow out of his ice cream and into his mouth. His forehead wrinkled, and then he grinned slowly at her. “Not in the least. I want you to remodel it.”

April coughed ice cream out of her mouth and onto the table. Then she blubbered while she jumped up and ran to the counter. She grabbed a handful of brown paper napkins and wiped up her mess, all the while apologizing. Mr. Edwards leaned back in his chair and chuckled.

“I don’t know anything about remodeling. I’m a vet tech at the animal hospital,” she said once all the garbage was tossed away. The glossy table shined in the sunlight.

“I don’t mean you specifically would handle the remodel. These plans are good,” Mr. Edwards continued. “I can see how you’ve reorganized a few areas inside the store and that you want use the back part of the lot for a green space—I never thought of that. You know, I own the second floor of the building, too, but I’ve only used it for storage space. I see you’d like to add a groomer, and the upstairs could be a place to set up shop. I’d like to retire and sell the shop to you.”

April frowned. “Are you serious?”

Mr. Edwards glanced at the door as it opened. Leilah spotted them and waved before walking to the counter and ordering.

April’s pulse increased, and she stared down at the wrinkled paper. “I don’t have enough money to buy the shop. I am currently homeless and without a car.” She looked up at him. “It’s a wonderful offer. A crazy one, but it’s not realistic for me. I’m not…” April’s gaze moved to the window.

A squirrel ran up one of the dogwood trees planted among the sidewalk sections. It chittered at her from a branch, holding a nut in its front paws, offering her a gift.

“Not what?” Mr. Edwards asked, spooning up his ice cream.

April looked at him. His calm demeanor surprised her. He was presenting her with a chance to buy his shop like it made complete sense, like it wasn’t a bogus idea to offer a homeless vet tech a wonderful opportunity.

“Not together enough for this,” she answered. “Not rich enough. Not smart enough. I don’t know the first thing about owning a business. I bought a few books to read about it, but I lost them in the flood.”

Mr. Edwards folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Do you think I’m going to drop my shop in your lap without any training? Wish you luck and let my precious shop fall into ruin? I don’t want that after all my years of hard work. I want the shop and the owner to be successful. I’ll teach you what you need to know. I wouldn’t stop working right away. I’d mentor you until you were ready to take flight.”

“And the money?” April asked.

“You’d need a business loan,” Mr. Edwards said. “But Mr. Rogers is a close friend of mine at the bank, and he’d work with you, give you the best rates. I’d start by selling half of the business to you, making you a partner. You’d also receive half the profits. Then when I was ready to fully retire, I’d sell you the remaining half, and it’s all yours.”

Leilah stepped up beside the table with a double scoop of dark chocolate ice cream in a waffle cone. “Mind if I join you?”

“Please do,” Mr. Edwards said. “Perhaps you can help me convince April that she’s the perfect candidate to buy my shop.”

Leilah’s mouth dropped open, and she plopped into the metal chair beside April. “The pet shop? Seriously?” Leilah turned to face her. “I can’t imagine anyone more suited to work with animals and own that shop.”

Leilah touched April’s arm, and April’s whole body relaxed. She felt anxiety and fear flow out of her. Two cardinals flew past the window and landed on the back of the nearest sidewalk bench. They looked in April’s direction and chirped.

“You were literally talking about this before the flood,” Leilah said.

“They were dreams,” April said. “Not a reality that I imagined would happen. What if I fail?” She looked at Mr. Edwards. “What if I make a total disaster of all of your hard work? Being a vet tech is easy. I’m good at it. I have a sense about what the animals need. I show up for work, I help as many animals as I can, and then I go home at night. But having my own business would mean I trust that I have what it takes to make it work and make a difference, and business ownership seems like something only intelligent, exceptional people can do. What does a regular girl like me know about doing anything remarkable?”

“That’s fear making decisions for you. I have a hunch about you, average April,” Mr. Edwards said. “If this is you ordinary, then you’re going to far exceed expectations as you evolve into extraordinary. What would you decide if you based your choice on hope rather than on fear? What do you say?”

April exhaled, licked her ice cream down to the cake cone, and smiled up at Mr. Edwards.