“Difficult? Is that what you want to call it? We’re here running the day-to-day of the business, managing staff, keeping the lights on, and what are you doing? You’re out in the woods pretending to be a mountain man.”
“Dad, I—”
His father’s desk rattled in the background. His fist had struck the surface. “I don’t want to hear another word about how city life isn’t for you. This is where the money is. Until you can understand that, perhaps working for me isn’t the best option for you.”
Rick held his breath. This wasn’t the first time his father held Rick’s employment over his head. It had become tiresome and Rick had considered looking for work elsewhere. With nothing lined up, he couldn’t afford to lose his job. Not yet. He’d have to find something with the same flexibility in working arrangements and location, or it would force him to move back to the city. If his father fired him, he couldn’t afford his mortgage, which would lead to needing to consider Robert’s offer. He needed time to search.
“I apologize for my choice of words,” Rick said with a level voice. “I am doing my best to make this work. My performance hasn’t dropped since I moved here. I’m making more deals than ever, which means the company is making money. Why don’t you and Mom come out here for a few days and see my set up? It might help to understand how I do my work. Maybe we can talk through your concerns face to face?”
His father couldn’t argue with the facts. Rick was the top associate even when he was the head of the advertising department and not in sales. He had proven to his father he didn’t need to be in the city, or flirt with the ladies, to make a sale.
“Fine. I will speak with your mother, but in the meantime, I expect you to speak to Robert and give it some real thought. Don’t disregard it because you dream of a life in the woods. It is time to look at things like an adult.”
Rick took another sip of coffee. It was better than biting his tongue. With their call ended, he slinked into the front seat of his truck and slipped his second coffee next to his first. He had made a mistake. Not in speaking to his father, but in getting a second coffee. Patsy was right. The caffeine would keep him awake.
Chapter Eight
Molly woke to the sound of breathing near her head. She froze as her heart pounded and her chest tightened. She dared not move, worried it would alert whatever was outside to her presence. Molly convinced herself it would leave if she remained still. She calmed her breathing and listened to the surrounding movement.
From the glow of the light outside her tent and the songs of birds, it was morning, but she wouldn’t know the exact time until she moved to check her watch. Her legs shook in the sleeping bag while the heaviness of fear held her in place.
A pebble skipped across the camping site. It was to her right, closest to her laundry line. Perhaps she hadn’t cleaned the rag well enough after doing her evening dishes and the scent had attracted a —
Molly held her breath. It had better not be a bear. Her bear spray wasn’t inside her tent, and if it tore through the fabric, she had nothing with her to use as a weapon. The bear would find her an easy target, wrapped in her sleeping bag like a burrito.
As her tiredness lifted, her mind now understood the breathing to be sniffing, and it traced along the edge of her tent to the door. The sniffing only paused when it sneezed. Metal clanged together, followed by a flapping and slapping noise. There was a whine and a long sigh as the metal touched the gravel.
Molly exhaled. A bear wouldn’t wear metal tags. She inched to the window and peered between the flap that covered the opening and the side of the tent. A shaggy light-brown tail rested on the ground.
“What are you doing here?” The tail beat against the dirt in response.
She smiled, happy to see the dog again. Then, she frowned. Why was it here? She had guessed it left with the previous guests at the nearby site, as once the spot was empty, she no longer saw the dog. Did they leave it behind? Was the dog lost? Sadness came over her as she imagined a lonely dog wandering in the woods, searching for a kind stranger to feed it scraps from their picnic table. She would be a kind stranger and help it.
Molly checked her watch. It was eight thirty. “I slept in,” she said in an animated voice through the fabric to the dog. She rubbed her eyes and stretched. The cool morning air greeted her as she climbed out of her sleeping bag. Molly stuffed her arms into a clean shirt, pulled on the same pair of pants she had worn the day before, and zipped up her hoodie tight around her neck before she climbed out of her tent.
The dog sprang to its feet, tail wagging.
“Good morning, good morning.” She scratched the dog's head, and it panted, vocalizing with quiet groans. “How long have you been awake for?” She plucked fragments of twigs and leaves from its fur as it enjoyed her attention.
Molly looked across at the site left empty the day before. Her stomach twisted with concern as she continued to scratch the dog’s head. “How could someone leave you behind like that? They’re horrible people.” The dog stared up at her with its brown eyes and open mouth, enjoying each stroke. “Did they at least feed you before they left?”
In the distance, someone dropped a metal object on the ground, capturing the dog’s attention. Another camper was packing up their site. With the campground once again silent, the dog tilted its head upward to bring Molly back into view. “Stick with me,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do for you, okay?” The dog’s tail beat at the ground as it wiggled in place. “People like that don’t deserve a dog like you.”
Knowing someone might be so cruel as to abandon a sweet dog like the one staring up at her made Molly’s emotions swing from anger to sadness. A pet was something a person committed to. An owner should not throw away their dog once they grew tired of caring for it. Her throat tightened and tears welled up as her strokes of the dog’s head became even more gentle and the dog closed its eyes. She vowed to protect the dog until she could pass it along to someone local who would take care of it. If that meant a nearby shelter, that would have to do. As much as she would love to take it home, a city apartment was no place for a dog as large as this.
But a city apartment was no place for Molly, either. The constant crowds and traffic left her feeling claustrophobic, making her long to escape the noise. She often imagined leaving the city for the suburbs or moving even further out. Her apartment was conveniently located close to the coffee shop. With their business thriving, they needed her at the store. Living outside of the city would limit her availability. Even though owning her own business had been her dream, being trapped in the city was not part of the plan. If it weren’t for the coffee shop she owned with Carla, she would have left the city and lived somewhere else. A place with a yard big enough for a large dog like this one.
If only there was some way she could make it work to live away from the city and still support the business. Since the coffee shop was doing well, they had talked about expanding to a second location. Could she convince Carla to pick a place outside of the city?
Molly walked to her car with the dog at her heels and opened the trunk to pour a bowl of cereal, sprinkling the flakes with a dash of milk from the cooler in the backseat. The dog followed her to the chair and sat at her feet as she ate, twisting its head back to gaze at her. She patted the dog on its side.
“You don't look skinny. You seem well fed.” The dog tossed its head back and shuffled itself onto its hind legs. “You really wanted me to get up this morning, didn't you? I do like spending time with you, but I don’t believe I can take you home with me. You really wouldn’t enjoy living in my apartment. Even I don’t like it.”
The dog remained at her feet until she finished her breakfast, and jumped to its feet to follow her to the basin where she washed her dishes, and again over to the shower facilities to dump the dirty water. It followed her from task to task, remaining at her side while looking up expectantly.
“Is that your dog?” a camper called from another site down the road. “I
t came by our site this morning.”
“It’s not mine,” Molly called back. “I thought it belonged to the people who had been in the site over there, but they left yesterday.”
“Did they leave it behind?” The woman stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head.
Molly sighed and stroked the dog’s head. “It looks that way.”
“We’re going to head out,” the woman said. The dog’s ears lifted, listening to their conversation. “We can stop by the campground office and let them know. Maybe they can call someone.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” At least there were still kind people in this world. The dog was lucky to have found Molly and this woman. Together they would help the dog out of its sad situation and help it find a better life.
“It’s such a shame,” the woman continued to shake her head, “it is a sweet dog.”
Molly smiled at the happy furry face that stared back at her. “Sure is.”
The camper walked back toward her trailer and Molly strolled back to her site to place her empty basin in the trunk of her car. She grabbed a book from the tent and wrapped herself in her blanket. With the knowledge that the woman would notify the office, she could relax for a bit and keep the dog occupied while they waited. With the dog at her feet, she read. It was another pleasant morning and Molly would go to Lemon Grove for coffee from the café once they took care of the dog. For now, she would take a break from her morning chores to relax and read.
The sound of a car engine made the dog perk up its ears. The woman and her husband backed their SUV out of their site and waved before driving toward the office. Molly scratched the dog’s back as its head rested on its paws. “We’re working on getting you somewhere safe. You’re such a good girl.”
The dog looked up at her.
“You are a girl, right? I think you are a girl. And you’re very sweet.”
Molly noticed the dog rest its head on her foot, and she turned the page in her book. Soon, she found herself immersed in the story, forgetting about time and what she had come to the campsite to escape. Now and then she would feel the dog flip over against her legs, or twitch as it ran in its sleep. They no longer needed to keep each other warm as the sun shone onto her campsite. Molly smiled. It felt good to have a morning with no commitments, other than to help a dog that needed a home.
A blue pickup truck rolled up the road, making its way around the loop. Molly and the dog lifted their heads and watched the truck approach before it stopped at the end of her site. The driver rolled down the driver’s side window and flashed a gorgeous smile, making Molly’s stomach flutter. It was Rick.
Molly turned her head away and adjusted her hair, tucking a few strands behind her ears and smoothing down the hair at the top of her head.
“Hello there,” he called out.
Molly hoped she didn’t look too much the part of a disheveled camper.
“Have you seen a large brown dog? I heard he was last seen at your site.”
“This one?” Molly pointed to her feet and pulled the blanket back to give him an unobstructed view of the pup.
“There you are!” Rick put his truck in park and stepped out onto the road. “Hudson. Come on, boy.” The dog lifted its head and lowered it back to the ground, letting out another long sigh. “It’s time to go.”
The dog rolled onto its side, refusing to acknowledge him.
“You know her?” she asked.
“Him, actually,” he said, rounding the front of the truck. He still wore the same jacket, but paired it with a clean pair of jeans and a V-neck shirt. “He’s mine.”
“Yours?”
“He’s my buddy. Just a couple of old bachelors keeping each other company. Ain’t that right?” Neither looked that old to her. It is too bad for Rick that wisdom didn’t come with his looks. No one was perfect, and after running into him multiple times, and liking what she saw, she had found a fatal flaw. “I’m sorry,” Rick said, strolling into the site. “He's always coming here to beg from the campers.”
Molly looked at the disobedient dog lying at her feet. “His name is Hudson?”
“Yes. He is twelve years old and does this every day. Glenda calls me from the campground office to let me know when he gets here, although it is getting tiresome to come here in the morning. I much prefer the afternoon.”
Molly shifted in her chair. To think he would allow his dog to wander like that. It was irresponsible. “You mean he visits the campground every day?”
“He sure does. I can't even get mad at him anymore. It’s just what he does.” He shook his head and gave the dog a scratch on his belly. “Have you been pestering the campers again, Hudson? Come on. We need to go home now. Your adventure is over.”
“Adventure?” Molly rose from her chair and the dog stood on his feet. “Don’t you care that he could have gotten lost?”
Rick laughed and placed his hands on his hips. “Hudson has lived here his entire life. I’d be more worried about me getting lost before I’d worry about him.”
The dog slapped his tail against the ground.
“Do you think this is funny?” Rick said to the dog. “I’ve got better things to do than drive you around town. Let's go.” He patted the side of his leg to encourage the dog. “Come on, Hudson.”
Hudson flopped himself on the ground and groaned.
“Don't you give me that attitude. You're lucky I don't make you walk home.”
Molly stepped forward and narrowed the gap between her and Rick. “He’s tired.” The dog could stay if he wanted, especially a twelve-year-old dog. That would make it a senior, and Rick didn’t need to be threatening him, even if he was joking.
Rick smiled and shook his head. “He isn't tired. He's just trying to see what we will give him to get him to go to the truck. Lazy dog. You want a treat, don’t you?”
The dog’s ears pointed straight and his tail wagged. No longer sitting, the dog stood at attention, waiting for his reward. Rick was right about the dog, but it didn’t mean his actions were.
“You should take better care of him,” Molly blurted out. She bent down and stroked the dog’s head, facing Rick as if to prevent him from calling the dog away.
“Excuse me?” Rick stood straight.
Molly rose and placed both hands on her hips. “You should make sure he doesn't get out of your yard. He would be content to stay if you took him for a walk every day. Bored dogs get into trouble.”
Rick shifted his weight to one side and ran his hand through his hair. “Have you ever owned a dog?”
“No. But I sure know how someone should treat one.” Caring for an animal was common sense. Molly didn’t need to have owned a dog to know if you cared for someone or something you provided for it. While most might believe food and shelter was all a dog needed, it also required them to give it proper exercise and to keep it safe.
Rick laughed and turned on the spot. “Typical.”
“What do you mean by that?” This man already made her blood boil, and she didn’t even know him. He was the one who was typical. A typical irresponsible pet owner.
“It is always the ones who have never owned a dog who are the experts on how to care for one.”
What did he know? Molly had read books, watched television programs about animals, and had he forgotten about the internet? She understood enough to see where he was lacking as a pet owner.
“My grandparents owned a dog.” As soon as the words left her lips, she realized it was a ridiculous statement, but if he was going to question her knowledge—
“So, it’s in the genes.” Rick laughed and shook his head. “I find your ignorance over my dog amusing. He likes to walk and was a wanderer before I got him. His previous owner allowed Hudson to wander all his life. When he died, I took over caring for Hudson. He is always on the move and at twelve years old, I'm not about to change what he's been doing his entire life.”
“At twelve, he is a senior and is more prone to injury. What if he f
orgets where he lives?”
“He has a good sniffer. Hudson will be fine.”
“You think an animal this old should be able to wander free and risk an injury? How is that right?” There was no getting through to this man. This was a dog that should enjoy a quiet life by a warm fireplace and not one where it wandered through cold creeks and thick forests in search of food from strangers at a campground.
It seemed to Molly that Rick would not be convinced. He led Hudson by the collar toward his truck. “Is it more humane to tie him up, or let him walk? He hates being stuck in the yard. I know this because I tried to keep him contained when I first got him, but he dug holes under my fence. When I fixed those, he pushed boards free. When I fixed the boards, he figured out the latch on the gate. This dog hasn’t known a life in a fenced yard. The community knows him and they tell me when he’s here and I don’t mind getting him when he’s done. He knows how to take care of himself. You do not understand—”
“I have enough of an idea.” She followed Rick to his truck and tapped her foot on the gravel, her arms crossed. Maybe no one at the campground told him the truth about what they thought about a dog roaming around their campsite. Who wants to look after someone else’s dog because the owner is incompetent? “If you cared enough about your dog, you would keep him in a safe place.”
“He’s a dog,” Rick said, patting the seat of his truck. Hudson hopped inside and wagged his tail as he took his place in the passenger’s seat. “He’s doing what dogs do.”
“He will get in trouble if you let him do whatever he wants. You are his owner and set the rules. Just like you would do with children.”
“Are you an expert with children, too?” Molly’s mouth hung open at his comment. “He’s twelve years old, and he hasn’t died yet. I think I’m doing a pretty good job of taking care of him. Isn't that right, Hudson?” The dog beat his tail against the seat, excited by their raised voices. “See? He agrees.”
Rick closed the door to the truck and walked toward the driver’s side.
Mountain Getaway Page 7
