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Andrew and Dawson walked out of the Formal Wear shop just after noon. Their appointment for measurements had been quick, considering no one else was in the store at that time.
They blinked rapidly in the dazzling sunlight. Heat radiated off the asphalt parking lot of the strip mall. Inside they had been comfortable in the air-conditioned store. Outside, Dawson could feel his pores open with sweat. He glanced at the other stores looking for an escape from the heat. But he didn’t need yarn, books, cigars, or jewelry. Not yet, anyway.
Standing on the sidewalk, the two men glanced around. Dawson could feel something was bothering Andrew. He looked tense. Inside the shop, his manner had been reserved and quiet. Dawson had no idea what exactly, though it could easily be anxiety over his upcoming wedding. Somehow, he felt it was more than that. Perhaps since they were both free earlier than expected, they should hang out. Maybe Andrew needed to get something off his chest.
Andrew cocked his head toward the store. “Thanks for meeting up with me to settle this. Hannah was starting to get anxious about our suits.”
“I’m glad I had the day off. I have to say I’m thrilled you didn’t go for the full tux or morning outfit. I love you, man, but that might be above and beyond.”
Clasping Dawson’s arm, Andrew spoke more than he had in the last hour. “I get that. And I’m just as glad Hannah wasn’t expecting a full tuxedo. I had to wear one for my sister’s wedding. It was hot and tight and overall suckdom.”
The feeling Andrew had something on his chest stayed with Dawson. Wasn’t this part of his best man duties? Keeping the groom from bailing on his bride?
Snickering loudly, the two men walked back to Dawson’s truck. “Got time for lunch?” Dawson asked after the two were inside the cab.
“What did you have in mind?”
“The Irish Harp. You game?”
Andrew rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve got time, but I can’t drink. I’m going back on duty at three.”
“Good enough.” Dawson started the vehicle, and they raced to the pub a couple blocks away.
The two men sat at a small wood-topped table beside a front window, allowing them a perfect view of whoever was going in and out of the building.
“I didn’t realize they renovated,” Andrew said, glancing around at the wooden tables and chairs.
He’s not meeting my eyes. What the heck? Dawson nodded. “Me neither. It feels more like an Irish pub now. Between the wainscot on the walls, the darker interior, the wood-carved bar in the back.” He picked up the menu left behind by the waitress after they had ordered lunch.
“Yeah, looks much better,” Andrew said as he took a long sip from of his soda bottle. Setting it down, his eyes locked on Dawson. “How’s it going with Cortland?”
Dawson noticed Andrew’s tension evaporate with his question. He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “It was going pretty good. We’ve gotten a lot closer. But—” He shrugged, his beer bottle halfway to his lips. “There’s a complication.”
Andrew glared at him, his face serious. “What?”
“Did you hear about Alaska?”
“I walked in while Hannah and Cort were discussing something about Alaska. Tell me what she told you.”
“Don’t trust her to tell the same story twice?” Dawson raised an eyebrow.
He shook his head. “No, that’s not it. I didn’t get the whole convo, so I was hoping she might have told you more than what I overheard.”
He set his beer bottle down on the table, crossed his arms over his chest, then leaned forward on the tabletop. In a softer voice, he said, “Her aunt bequeathed the entire place, house, farm animals, and 100 acres of land to her. She says she’s torn about whether to sell it or not. The tone in her voice indicated to me she doesn’t want to.” He sat back in his chair. The beer churned in his stomach. He really didn’t want to talk about it.
Andrew stared back at him across the table. “What will you do?”
“Me?” Dawson balanced the wooden chair on its two back legs. “I’m here. I still have my career here.” He mashed his lips together and wrinkled his nose before adding, “So far.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Andrew’s eyes opened wide with surprise.
Dawson glanced around the room as though scoping it out. Then he leaned forward again and gestured for Andrew to do the same. “Remember our conversation on our last bike trip together?” When Andrew nodded Dawson continued. “Don’t say anything, but I’ve decided to look for a new job.” He sat back in his chair.
“Can’t say I blame you. I’d be pissed too.”
Nodding, Dawson declared, “There’s nothing to hold me back. My mom has my sister here in town. So it doesn’t really matter what Cortland decides to do. I may not be here anyway.”
“What if she asks you to go with her?” Andrew asked as their meals arrived.
“She hasn’t, and she might not. I’m not sure I’d go.” He picked up a curly-fry and chomped on it.
His eyes widening again, Andrew asked, “Why not?”
“It’s a long ways away. Besides, I did check for jobs up there. I’m either underqualified, or the position is below my current level. I don’t want to be fighting wildfires. I’m looking for a management position.”
“Find anything yet?” His friend took a huge bit out of his Reuben sandwich.
“I applied for a few. No responses yet.”
Andrew stared at him. “You’ll still be here for the wedding at least, right?”
“Yes, of course. I won’t bail on you. It will take me longer than four weeks before I manage to find something.”
––––––––
Over the next few days, he and Cortland met up after she got off work.
They had hiked and kayaked in the nearby Hale Hollow forest. Each time ended at Dawson’s place, where they made dinner together and ate before Cortland left to go home and care for Harris, Moo, and Marmalade.
Wednesday night, they went to the Mexican restaurant downtown for dinner and drinks and then went to the top of the treeless hill in the Hale forest to do some star gazing. Dawson had realized she was quite an astronomical fanatic, always gazing up at the stars outside at night. He thought she would enjoy lying on a blanket and checking out the stars, planets, and constellations. She had.
“Reminds me of a few visits I made to Alaska in the late fall and winter when the stars are visible there.”
Dawson asked, “You didn’t see them in the summer?” He slapped his forehead with his palm. “Never mind. Twenty-four hours of daylight in the summer, right.”
Cortland giggled. “Right.”
The wind sighed gently around them as they lay side by side, their near hands clasped together. Cortland tried to explain the constellations she knew to him. It was difficult to point them out. Eventually, she switched to telling the stories associated with some of them: Hercules, Draco, Aquila, Cygnus, and Lyra. “That one there,” she pointed, but while he looked, he couldn’t find it, “is Pegasus.” She was silent a few moments before adding, “Did I tell you I have a horse in Alaska named Pegasus?”
“No! Tell me more,” Dawson replied, turning on his side to look at her.
Cortland also turned to face him. “My aunt and uncle’s mare had a foal while I was there one summer. I got to watch the birth. Once they were assured the foal would live, they gave him to me. He’s still at the homestead, though sixteen years older now.” She looked back up at the constellation she named him after. “In Greek mythology, Pegasus was an immortal white-winged horse that sprang from the neck of the Gorgon Medusa when Perseus beheaded her. The brightest star in the constellation is named Enif, which comes from the Arabic word for nose.”
“How do you remember all this stuff about constellations and stars?” Dawson’s tone was filled with amazement. “I can’t ever find the big or little dipper.”
Cortland giggled. “There’s not much to do in Hope. We spent a lot of time whenever I was there in the fall and winter just like this but wrapped up in parkas. Lying out on a blanket at night to gaze at the heavens. It’s enjoyable to hear all the stories behind the constellations when you're a kid. Uncle Mayer knew them all like the back of his hand.” She sighed.
His eyes softened, and he kissed her lightly on the forehead. “You lived an idyllic childhood up there. Most kids today couldn’t find Polaris. Their eyes are buried in video games and social media. No wonder you love the place so much.”
“It was idyllic. Those weeks up there were the best times of my life.”
They stayed as long as the mosquitoes would allow and then went to Cortland’s apartment.
Dawson had been there a few times. He liked her sense of style. The sparsely decorated rooms had a French country flair. A mix of rustic and refined pieces. It was comfortable and had a casual elegance with softly patterned fabrics in muted shades of yellow and cream, distressed painted furniture, and a few natural items: a conch shell, a bird’s nest, a geode, a whale’s tooth, and a lichen, among them.
They entered her apartment foyer, where the kittens appeared to greet them. Like his two kittens, they had grown considerably into slim, lanky young cats that raced around the living space, hiding and jumping out to ambush anyone or anything passing by.
Then Harris came around the corner with his tail wagging excitedly, his eyes radiating happiness at their arrival.
Cortland froze. “What the heck?”
Following her gaze, Dawson saw what had stumped her. And his curiosity was aroused.
Harris had a string hanging out of his closed mouth. It was about two inches long and a tan-brownish color.
“What the heck is that?”
***
“It’s his habit to always meet me at the door with something in his mouth. Didn’t I mention that?”
Cortland’s mind raced, her heart pumping wildly, her nerves on high alert. There was only one type of item in the house that had a string attached to it. But it’s not that time. Where would Harris get a tampon? Did he get into the bathroom closet and .... Her nerves skyrocketed as she had a sudden thought. She had to get it out of Harris’s mouth before he choked on it.
She bolted forward and dropped to her knees in front of the dog. He wasn’t displaying any sign of choking or breathing difficulty. Just to be safe, she grasped the end of the string. This isn’t string! Holy crap! It’s a tail. She let go of it, recoiling. Cortland felt her entire face flame red. It might be less embarrassing if it were a tampon. There was no getting around the moment. Dawson would have to witness the unveiling.
“Harris. Open.”
The dog instantly complied, opening his jaws to reveal a dead mouse attached to the tail.
Cortland gently pulled the mouse out of Harris’s mouth by its tail. The body hung limp and lifeless as Harris sat on his haunches, grinning and panting proudly.
Dawson laughed hysterically.
“Excuse me,” Cortland said as she passed by him, opened the front door, took the offending vermin outside, and tossed it into the shrubs. At least Dawson is finding the episode funny rather than gross.
When she came back inside, Dawson still stood in the foyer, one hand over his mouth as he tried unsuccessfully to stop laughing.
“Stop laughing.”
He continued to cackle like a chicken around his words. “You ... should have ... seen the look on your face!”
She ignored his statement while bypassing him again on the way to the bathroom to wash.
As she shut the door, she could hear Dawson congratulating the dog on his fine catch. “Good boy, Harris. Good dog.” Harris gave a light bark in reply.
Returning to the foyer, Cortland found Dawson petting the grinning dog. “Where do you think he got it?” He asked, merriment sparkling in his eyes.
Cortland shook her head. “I have no idea. Maybe the kittens found it?”
Dawson walked over and took her in his arms for a hug. “I have to say, you were as cool as iced tea when you took it out of his mouth.” He nuzzled her ear, lightly nibbling on her earlobe.
“It’s not the first dead mouse I’ve ever handled, but I sure hope it’s the last I find between Harris’s jaws.”
Dawson cracked up again, hugging her to his broad, sturdy chest. His laughter was infectious, and she joined him, feeling the tension release. She let herself melt into his arms.
He held her so tight against his body his arousal was evident. Cortland sighed, resting her head on the front of his chest. When Dawson pulled away from her slightly, she looked up. His lips found hers, teasing, nibbling, exploring them as her heart pounded so hard she thought he must be able to feel it. Their lips still together, she ran her hands down his sides to his buttocks.
Dawson’s hands did the same, stroking her, kneading her backside, fanning the flames of her passion.
Her breath caught in her throat as his hands smoothed over her. Stepping back, she took his hand and tugged him toward the bedroom. In the doorway, he pressed her against the wall, kissing his way down the column of her throat. Gently at first, he grew bolder, enticing her passion.
“Dawson,” she whispered, her breath coming hard and fast, her knees weakening.
An alarm sounded, startling her.
Dawson reached for his off-duty pager. He read the message and groaned loudly. “It’s a four-alarm. I have to go.” He kissed her swiftly and headed for the door. “I’m sorry. I’m being recalled to duty for a massive warehouse fire in the industrial park. I’ll call you tomorrow.”