Billy smiled. “See, Jimmy,” he said, “new friends.”
Jimmy looked up at Billy with more than a little doubt in his eyes.
Billy petted both McGruff and King, while Jimmy watched with a possessive eye.
Arlene stood, handed Billy a t-shirt and looked down at his shorts. “You can wear khakis or jeans and this is your uniform.” The green t-shirt had Four Paws printed on the front. She looked down at Jimmy. “And you, sir, can stay in the buff like the rest of them.” She laughed heartily.
Jimmy looked up at Billy, the doubt turning to fright.
When Arlene turned, Billy offered the dog a slight shrug.
While Jimmy was getting acquainted with his two new aggressive friends, Billy worked side by side with Arlene, feeding animals and cleaning cages. “Four Paws is a non-profit organization,” she said, kicking off Billy’s informal orientation. “It relies on donations, fund raisers, adoptions, and dedicated benefactors to keep the shelter in operation. We don’t receive any state or federal funding.”
For whatever reason, Billy was surprised by this.
“We work hard to give the animals more time on this earth,” she said, shaking her head. “Many municipal shelters are so crowded they can’t keep lost or stray animals for more than a few days.” She stopped and looked at Billy. “Can you imagine humans being chemically terminated before receiving trash bag funerals?”
Billy shook his head.
“We believe there’s a home out there for every animal we take in, if we only take the time to find it.” She winked. “And we do. In fact, we like to say we give animals a new leash on life.”
Corny, Billy thought, but he was relieved that Four Paws didn’t euthanize animals.
“People interested in adopting have to come visit the animal in person, no exceptions,” Arlene said.
“Who wouldn’t come visit an animal they’re trying to adopt?” Billy asked.
She looked at him. “Trust me, by the end of this summer, nothing will surprise you.”
Billy nodded. We’ll see, he thought.
“In many shelters, money dictates every decision and, if an animal isn’t adopted within two weeks, it will be destroyed.”
Billy stopped and stared at his new mentor. Whoa… This fact bothered him more than anything else ever had. “Are you kidding me?”
“I wish I were,” she said, shaking her head. “We take in a thousand or so orphaned pets each year, even birds, guinea pigs and snakes—which make me squirm in my own skin.”
“Me too,” Billy confessed.
“When they arrive, we give them a quick visual exam,” Arlene said. “Each of the animals is confined until they’ve been checked out by the vet and received any medical treatment they might need. Once they’re cleared, we release them into the general population and get them acclimated.”
Straight into the general population, Billy repeated in his head, amused by the prison reference. He nodded that he understood, before looking down to make sure Jimmy was okay.
The elder dog was like a magnet, stuck to his shins; Jimmy’s eyes were as wide as Billy had ever seen them.
As she worked, Arlene instructed, “The larger breeds get a full scoop of food twice a day. The little guys, a half scoop two times a day.”
Billy looked down at Jimmy again. “Just like Jimmy, minus the scraps.”
She laughed and continued her lesson. “It’s important we create as comfortable an environment as possible for these lost souls. Social contact and positive stimulation have proven to be major benefits when maintaining an animal’s well-being.” She gestured toward the other room. “We have cages for those who must be segregated and monitored, for one reason or another. But just as soon as we can integrate them back into the community, we do.” She looked toward McGruff and King. “These are pack animals and without the pack, whether it be other dogs or a new human family, they cannot be complete.”
“I understand,” Billy said, petting Jimmy’s head. Billy then noted that the feral cats were also exiled to one of the back communal rooms, as far away from the shelter’s main population as they could be. He questioned it.
“Those that cannot be domesticated will have to be sent to a protected feral colony,” she explained, shaking her head.
As they completed the feeding, Billy also noticed that—although Arlene said she was worried about when the next shipment of supplies would arrive—she dumped a half scoop more into each dog’s bowl. Billy questioned this with a raised eyebrow.
She shrugged like a kid who’d just been caught in the proverbial cookie jar. “I’m just trying to make up for all the meals they didn’t get.”
He laughed, thinking, Arlene obviously likes to fatten up her furry guests.
“As I’ve said, we try to find permanent homes for our animals,” she said, changing the subject, “but for those animals that are very young or need extra medical care, we also work with a list of good folks who are willing to provide temporary foster homes.”
“That’s cool,” Billy said and stole a glance at Jimmy, who was clearly overwhelmed.
Their next stop was “the day spa”: a grooming area set up in a corner of the main room where the pups got primped and bathed. It contained a tub, hose and stainless steel bench with a leash hook-up. “It’s just another above and beyond service we provide,” Arlene explained, with a wink.
Billy smiled.
“But I wouldn’t get my hopes too high if I were you,” she added. “The volunteers get the fluffy, feel good jobs like dog walking and grooming.” She smirked. “And you’re an indentured servant who’s being paid to do the dirty work…literally.”
He laughed.
She turned to him to wrap up her tutorial. “For now, what you need to know is that we provide the very best care we can while also matching orphaned pets with new homes. We also provide services like implanting microchips, which are permanent.” Clearly impressed by the technology, she nodded. “A scan of any lost animal can identify them. That, along with pet licensing, helps reunite owners with their lost pets.” She looked down to see if Jimmy wore a tag. “Good boy,” she said.
Billy wasn’t sure whether she was referring to him or the dog.
“Once every two weeks, the vet comes in and we offer low cost vaccinations. We also provide affordable spay and neuter surgeries to the public to help control pet overpopulation.” She nodded. “A lot of people don’t know this, but the surgery helps animals live longer and healthier lives.”
“Good to know,” Billy said.
At the end of the day, Arlene asked Billy, “So what do you think?”
He smiled. “I think I’m really going to like it here, but…” He paused.
“But?” she repeated, surprised.
Billy looked down at Jimmy. “But I don’t think he cares too much for the place.”
Arlene collapsed to her knees in front of Jimmy and began massaging his arthritic haunches. “He’ll get used to the place,” she said, studying Jimmy’s soft chocolate eyes. “…or maybe he won’t.”
⁕
Billy dropped Jimmy off at home, fed him and then ran over to Nick’s to get a bite to eat. He grabbed his tuna sub and wasn’t even through the dining room door before Mark was sharing the big news. “You missed it,” he announced.
“Missed what?” Billy asked.
“Some police detective, Swanson, just left here. He was asking all kinds of questions about Dalton Noble.”
Although Billy’s heart plunged into his gut, he did what he could to maintain a calm, even face. “Questions?” he asked. “What kind of questions?”
“He wanted to know if Dalton was having any problems with anyone.” Mark shrugged. “If we’d heard him argue with anyone recently, crap like that.”
“Problems?” Billy echoed, still standing.
“
I told him I didn’t think so,” Mark said, shaking his head. “I even asked him if he thought Dalton’s death was something other than an accident.”
Billy’s blood froze, slowing in his veins. Once he caught his breath, he tried to remain indifferent.
“He told me he was just trying to cover every base, that’s all.”
“Every base,” Billy reiterated, his mind rushing out of control.
“He said he believed it was an accident, but was just making sure.”
“Wow,” Billy said, nearly falling into his seat. “That’s messed up.”
“So did you end up talking to Charlie last night?” Mark asked, obliviously. “Did he give you a good excuse for dodging us?” he asked with a smirk.
For a moment, Billy was deafened by a shroud of fog that felt suffocating.
“Well, did you see him?” Mark prodded.
“He broke up with Bianca,” Billy finally blurted, spending more time looking at his lunch than at his friend.
“I hate to say I told you so, but…”
“He’s a friggin’ mess, Mark. You should have seen him.”
Mark’s grin disappeared. “It sucks. I get it. But he doesn’t have to go underground. Couples our age break up. It happens.” He shook his head. “It’s not going to help him heal, if he keeps avoiding everyone.”
Billy nodded. “I agree. But I think we should give him a break for now. He’s in a lot of pain.”
“Did he give you any details?” Mark asked.
Billy shook his head. “Not really,” he lied. “He just said that he needs to lay low for a while until he gets his head together.”
Mark nodded. “Fair enough, I guess.” Smiling, he threw the last pizza crust into the cardboard box. “How’s the new job? Did you have to shovel shit?”
Billy nodded. “It’s a job,” he said, “and anything’s better than the Pearl.”
“If you say so,” Mark said, finishing his soda. “Listen, the Fourth of July parade starts at ten o’clock in the morning on Saturday. What time do you want to meet?”
“Fourth of July parade?” Billy repeated, finally looking into Mark’s eyes—and still trying to recover from his state of shock. “I’m not going to any lame parade.”
“Lame?” Mark snapped back. “Do you realize how many girls are going to be at that parade?”
Billy considered it, struggling to take another bite of his tuna sub.
“What are you going to miss,” Mark asked, “a few hours of sleep?”
Billy nodded. “That’s right.”
“Well, too bad,” Mark told him. “You’re going. I’ll be at your house at nine to pick you up.”
“Nine in the morning?” Billy asked, his voice raised an octave.
Mark laughed. “Nine o’clock in the morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he confirmed.
With a single nod, Billy ate in silence for a few minutes, his mind fixated on Charlie’s dark confession and now a snooping detective named Swanson. I need to let Charlie know, he thought, panicked, and pushed the rest of his lunch away from him—afraid that he might lose more than just his appetite.
⁕
It was July Fourth and America was celebrating the birth of its freedom. Billy and Mark stood on the corner of South Main and Middle streets. Both sides of the barren street were lined with flag-waving spectators. Shops were closed for the day and stone-faced policemen patrolled on horseback, keeping the swaying crowd off the paved street. Screaming children sat atop the shoulders of short-sleeved fathers, while women chatted in tight groups. Suddenly, a siren wailed in the distance. All eyes went big. The parade was underway.
Leaning in to steal the first glimpse, a squeal traveled down the line. “They’re coming!” someone announced. And so they did.
The horn of a Model T Ford led the way. Evidently, Mayor Joe Sherry had appointed himself Grand Marshal and was propped up on the back seat, waving furiously. By the look on his wife’s sour face, she hardly shared his enthusiasm. Other politicians marched behind their leader, shaking hands.
Jumbled groups of every culture followed suit, proudly displaying the colors of their native countries. Italian, French, Irish and Portuguese flags bobbed along. On America’s Independence Day, it didn’t make sense.
There was a loud bang.
Everyone jumped, but not nearly as high as the policeman’s horse. Some delinquent had tossed a firecracker at the poor animal’s hooves before melting back into the thick crowd. Once the cop’s spotted partner calmed down, they took chase. To Billy’s surprise, the crowd cheered them on.
Oblivious to the heart-thumping interruption, milk trucks and farm tractors, transformed into creatively decorated floats, crept along. Uncle Sam and Betsy Ross waved and threw candy to the crowd. As children scurried and wrestled each other for the sweet loot, Billy waved back at Miss Ross. “She’s really cute,” he told Mark.
A Boy Scout troop marched in sync, while rougher-looking boys dressed in Little League uniforms moped by. A line of antique cars was carried in their wake, their paint so buffed that the sun’s reflection actually hurt the eyes. A small group of young girls halted the procession. While they performed a brief tap dance number, Billy hurried back from the hot dog cart. He was just in time to catch the high school marching band play “When the Saints Come Marching In” completely off key.
Just then, a bright red fire engine opened up on the crowd, playfully dousing everyone with a powerful stream of cold water. Women screamed in delight, while drenched children waited for the handfuls of candy to be thrown. The firemen nearly laughed themselves off the rear of the truck before pouring their generosity onto the crowd of victims. Buckets of twist-wrap candy rained onto the glistening black street. Billy laughed at the spectacle. Maybe this isn’t so lame after all, he thought, deciding he’d never admit it to Mark.
When the fire engine’s siren moaned down to silence, the haunting sound of bagpipes took its place. Grown men, dressed in skirts, played a melancholy tune. Mark chuckled openly at their chosen outfits, causing a stranger with a peculiar twitch to tap him on the shoulder. “That’s the police band,” the man pointed out in a rasp, before returning to the statue he’d been earlier. Billy laughed. Mark’s face was as bright as the fire truck that soaked them.
A roaming band of clowns followed the police, pleading with tiny dogs to jump through hula-hoops. At the conclusion of the hilarious show, the big-shoed jokesters dumped buckets of confetti on everyone. With the water from the fire truck, the confetti stuck like feathers to tar. “People really love throwing things on the Fourth of July, huh?” Billy said aloud.
Mark laughed.
In search of the opposite sex, Billy was scanning the mass of people across the street when a convoy of military vehicles returned his attention to the parade. Giant green trucks rumbled along, their billows of heavy smoke painting the blue sky black. An ancient one, towing an enormous cannon behind it, forced the twitching statue to speak again. “That’s a Howitzer,” the stranger whispered hoarsely, “and when she sneezed, the Gerrys and Japs soiled their trousers.” He finished with a twisted grin and returned to his stoic stare. Billy and Mark looked at each other. Without a word, they shuffled down the sidewalk a few feet. The commentating was becoming a bit too spooky.
Behind the odd-looking vehicles, a drum and bugle corps echoed an ancient cadence into battle. Groups of men marched in step to every beat. Some wore uniforms; others, rows of colorful medals pinned to their swollen chests. Banners read: VFW, AMVETS and the wars in which they served. The oldest of them, the few remaining warriors of WWII, took the lead in the back of three convertibles. Upon their passing, the crowd stood silent in a show of awe and respect. Then it happened. As if on cue, the street exploded with spine-tingling cheers. Korean War and Vietnam War veterans followed their predecessors. Behind them, soldiers dressed in desert camouflage—men and women who
had served in Iraq and Afghanistan—brought up the rear. Two of these warriors pushed their buddies’ wheelchairs, while another saluted the crowd with his remaining arm.
Billy glanced at Mark to catch his friend’s eyes misting over. It was the perfect fodder for teasing, but Billy remained silent, reflecting upon his own grandfather’s heroic service. Both friends understood: if it weren’t for the sacrifices of the men who marched before them, July Fourth would have been no more than another hot day in hell. The crowd continued to roar.
Billy was submerged in a daydream of serving his country in Iraq or Afghanistan—perhaps fulfilling his life’s purpose—when he looked up and saw her. The sight nearly pulled him to his knees. He knew right away this strange effect wasn’t due to the raw excitement of the day, the sheer respect felt for the soldiers who marched, or even the seasonably warm temperature. It was definitely caused by the angel who stood across from him. It’s Vicki! he realized. Her curly blonde hair was blowing recklessly in the breeze. When Billy finally caught his breath, he glanced up to find a police horse approaching. Without realizing it, he’d wandered out several feet onto the parade route.
“Get back on the sidewalk,” the grimacing cop ordered.
Billy nodded, but a racing pulse had his thoughts all boggled and hazy. With another stern look from the cop, Billy finally did as ordered. He glanced right to find Mark smiling at him.
“She is some beautiful, huh?” Mark said, pointing at Miss Fall River, the pageant queen who’d just ridden by on the back seat of a ’57 Chevy convertible.
“You’re not kidding,” Billy managed. His giant pupils were still hypnotized by the stunning creature before him—Vicki.
“And the car’s not too shabby either,” Mark said.
Billy’s forehead wrinkled and, for the first time, his eyes returned to his friend. “What car?” he asked.
Of all places, the parade ended at the high school, where there were food booths being attacked by an onslaught of parade-goers. The lure was no match for even the strongest willed. “Let’s go check it out,” Billy said, trying to coax Mark.
The Changing Season Page 13
