Paradox Love: Paradox Love Book 1

by Dorothy Gravelle

  Luke turned back. “Wow, this is kind of crazy.”

  “You sure you don’t know her?”

  “Yeah, absolutely. Never had a dog my whole life.”

  “Well, maybe you should get one.”

  “Yeah, maybe so.”

  Dennis decided to lead the dog back to his house and make the call there. Wasn’t likely to be successful here with all this howling.

  Luke wanted to stay, sort of see this through, maybe try to help. But he saw that staff was on the patio waiting for him. He was late for session.

  “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Yes. Hey son, you take care.”

  “Thanks.”

  Luke turned to traverse the lawn back to the facility. His retreat was followed by howl after howl from the hound dog on the other side of the fence. He wasn’t looking back. He didn’t want to break down again.

  * * * * *

  The hound was persistent. She continued to find her way back to the New Herald Center. Noel had become a novelty, her arrival often accompanied by the announcement of both staff and residents. “Luke, your dog is back.”

  Each time he heard the words, he released a sigh as though he’d been holding his breath since she’d last come. He was always afraid he wouldn’t see her again. He’d often heard dog owners swear that their dogs could sense their moods. He’d never understood it until now. But it was more than that. This dog was inexplicably attached to him, offering up what could only be identified as unconditional love. He was drinking it up. And he was lightening up. He was finally rising out of the darkness.

  For Sue, the initial panic that had accompanied Noel’s first escape was no longer an issue. If their dog had once again escaped, there wasn’t the slightest doubt where she’d gone. However, the situation was perplexing, not only that she and her husband could not identify Noel’s escape route from their yard, but just why their sweet girl continued to seek out the young man in the rehab center.

  The receptionist had Sue on speed dial now, although she never called right away. There was sort of a conspiracy developing among staff to extend the visits whenever they occurred. This time she placed a tennis ball in Luke’s hand before he went outside.

  “Oh, thank you. She’ll love this.”

  “You’re welcome. Yeah, she seems really smart. Bet she’ll catch on quick.”

  “Oh, and here,” she handed Luke an envelope. “You’ve got mail,” she smiled as he took it from her.

  “Thanks again.”

  He’d never gotten mail at the Center before. Nobody wrote letters anymore. He couldn’t imagine who it was from. The return address didn’t have a name. He sat down in the lounge area, mindful that the dog was waiting for him. Then he pulled the handwritten letter from the envelope. Not only was it handwritten, but it was long. Three pages.

  Man, it seemed like getting through it was going to be an effort. He scrolled to the bottom of the last page to see who the sender was. Rebecca. Rebecca? How odd. He’d barely ever spoken to Rebecca. Didn’t even know her really. So what was this?

  He went back to the first page and read the first paragraph. That part was just fluff, catching up to the present time with her life situation. He skipped down another paragraph. And there it was. Grace this and Grace that. Friendship this and friendship that. She was still needing closure on Grace’s death and wanted to know if they could meet. And all this went on for three pages.

  He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t read all that. It was like a knife in the gut. He was finally getting better. No, he wasn’t reading Rebecca’s letter. He didn’t want to hold onto it, but he also didn’t want anyone to see him discard it to the trash. Instead, he folded it quickly before stuffing it into his pocket and heading out the door.

  The sun hit his face as he stepped outside, its warmth a subtle yet powerful reminder that it was good to be alive. Not long ago, he could not have predicted he’d ever feel like this again. Some dreams were over, behind him. But now he was ready to put together some new goals. Less lofty ones, yes, but still, any goal was better than suicide.

  Noel wasn’t alone today. He hadn’t met Sue, but this must be her. She was about the same age as his mother. Tall and lean, her white hair blended in with the remaining platinum blonde of her younger years. As Luke approached, she looked to her dog as Noel leapt to her feet, tail wagging, her happiness undeniably proclaimed with her boisterous welcome.

  Dennis had described the interaction between the two, but didn’t do it justice. Noel’s reaction to Luke’s approach was remarkable. True, Noel was always happy to see her when she arrived home, but it was never like this.

  “You must be Sue,” he reached his hand through the fence to shake her hand before then kneeling down to wordlessly greet the happy hound.

  “And you’re Luke.”

  He smiled up at her from his kneeling position.

  This kid had a cute smile. What a great looking guy. She was surprised at her reaction, but couldn’t help it. You were never too old to notice such things. She proceeded to tell the story of Noel’s rescue. Luke listened politely, although he’d heard it all before from Dennis.

  “It’s only by the grace of god that she’s here today safe and sound,” she said as she finished the tale.

  Luke’s hands froze atop the dog’s head, where he’d been stroking her favorite spot. It wasn’t the part about god. He didn’t care about that. Didn’t believe it, really. Like many, he’d become disenchanted with the whole idea of a man in a robe up there somewhere watching us. And to his mind, there was little possibility of a god, some out-of-reach and out-of-touch entity who allowed murder, famine, abuse and all such horrors while at the same time laying down the law about how everyone should do the proper worshipping, et cetera, et cetera. No, it wasn’t the part about god. It was the other part. The grace part. The Grace part.

  He could not remember when he’d last heard her name spoken, but it had been quite a while. Grace. In that instant, he let her in again, memories washing over him. And for the first time since losing her, the thoughts did not nudge him to seek out a bottle of some sort. He took a deep, swift breath in without realizing it and then released it slowly.

  Sue observed him, but had no way of knowing what he was processing just now. She did, however, know enough to be quiet for a moment.

  Noel nudged his hands for more love on her sweet spot. But instead he moved under her chin, pulling up her face so that he could look her directly in the eye. Then keeping his eyes locked with Noel’s, he answered Sue. “Yes, she is an angel, this dog of yours.”

  In those eyes, he read entire chapters of emotion and verse. Did the world know, had they any way of understanding that dogs do that? That they speak to you a thousand messages, if you only take the time to really let them tell you? In those eyes, this dog had stories to tell, secrets to share, love to offer, joy to proclaim. And for every word pouring forth from her eyes, her tail backed it up with marked punctuation.

  He stretched out his arms to give Noel a full body scratching from snout to tail. His fingertips felt the race and pound of her heartbeat, his hands the warmth of her panting breath.

  He would love Grace till the day he died. He’d carry her always. Yes, the memories would always produce an ache, but never again would he sink so low. Gently, gently, he’d place the memory of her back in its safe place. This dog, this bundle of life, reminded him that it was his business to live.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Well, now that she’d seen it for herself, Sue was certain. Noel belonged with Luke. The dog’s fixation remained inexplicable. Though Sue itched to understand the origins of Noel’s obsession, she knew she would never be given the satisfaction. So what could be done? It would be utterly selfish to place her attachment to the dog over what Noel had clearly demonstrated to be her deepest wish.

  Today she sat with Luke on a large sofa in the lounge area of the reception room, having asked to speak with him. The two had met on several occasions now, their tentative f
riendship taking its light steps forward. She knew a little bit more about him now, but not that much. On occasion, her curiosity had her pondering questions she wished she could ask. Her respect for him and his recovery process kept her silent.

  She observed him at this moment, taking note of the subtle changes having occurred since their first meeting. She recalled early on how he would fidget as he spoke. It was a nervous tendency that didn’t seem to fit with either his physical build, nor his age.

  But today, he was different. His palms were planted on his lap, only leaving their resting place when his words needed emphasis. Where in the past, his line of vision would be here, there and everywhere, and rarely squarely into the eyes of those he conversed with, he’d changed in this way as well. She received lines of words from him, while all the while his eyes locked firmly and confidently with hers.

  Those eyes. Luke was stunning and all the more so now. He’d somehow acquired a poise, an ease of being. As he spoke to her now, she found herself occasionally moving a hand to her face to swing a non-existent wisp of hair from her face. She reached for her purse, some foggy thought about needing a tissue pulling her hand that way before it escaped her. Instead, she reached for that invisible hair again. Good lord. She was fidgeting. He brought it on.

  He was letting her in, just a little. Football had always been his passion. She could tell that was true. There was no hiding his excitement as he spoke about it this afternoon. The events of the past few years had seemingly robbed him of his chosen path, his destiny even, of pursuing the sport as a player in the national arena.

  It seemed as though just lately, as the drip line of addiction dried and withered, he’d found his new calling. Coaching. He’d have to go back to school. It wouldn’t be easy after his long hiatus, but he wanted it. Upon the burgeoning inclination, Nancy had bolted into action, collecting transcripts, researching admissions requirements. Luke was back. And there was nothing she wouldn’t do to keep him back. Everything was falling into place.

  He talked about the practical nature of his plans, having to live at home for a few more years, get a job, put himself through school. Sue could easily imagine that the whole thing would be a dream come true for his parents. To drop so low and to come back so strong. Yeah, any parent would be saying prayers of thanks.

  She found a place in the conversation where she could bring up what she’d wanted to say.

  “So your mom’s house, does it have a decent yard? Grass?”

  The quick change in topic caught him halfway between the words of his next sentence, before he stopped and realized they were on to a new subject.

  “Well yeah, it’s great. It’s fine. Big enough to run a few plays, you know?”

  “Yes, well that’s very nice. Large enough for a dog to get some exercise?”

  “Sure. If we had a dog. Sure.”

  “Good, because you’re going to have a dog,” she announced matter-of-factly, the confident statement itself granting her the courage to return his gaze for longer than an instant.

  Those piercing eyes were right on her, questioning. She looked down at her shoes for the tiniest instant before feeling the sting of foolishness. She was too old for this feeling. She forced her eyes back into his.

  “I want you to have Noel.”

  Those eyes spoke. Boy, did they. The question melted away, replaced by expectation and then the question again.

  “Wait, what? Why?”

  “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Noel is your girl. I have absolutely no business keeping her when it’s so clear.”

  “I can’t take your dog.”

  “You aren’t taking her. She’s already yours.”

  She’d clearly caught him off guard. He was hesitant for a moment, thoughts racing. Though he did love that dog, he hadn’t for the briefest moment considered the possibility of owning her.

  “I don’t know. I’m going to be gone a lot.”

  “I’ve already talked to your mom. She’s onboard. Yeah, you’ll be gone a lot. That’s okay. Noel will be sitting there at the door waiting for you to come home. And she’ll stop running away. I know she will. She only ever ran to be with you.”

  The whole thing still seemed so crazy to him. But at the same time, it made complete sense. That sweet hound, yes, there was a connection to her. He’d developed protective feelings for the dog immediately. And now, she could be his. It was all coming together.

  “I can’t think of a good reason to say no,” he smiled. This was right. This made sense.

  “Good. Then it’s settled. You’re going home next week, right?”

  “Yes, on Thursday.”

  “How about if I bring her on Friday?”

  “That sounds good.”

  She reached out to squeeze his hand. “I’m really happy about this.”

  “Thank you, Sue. I am, too.”

  They stood to say goodbye. Instinctively, she went to him, hugging. Hugs were difficult for him. Touch was difficult. That intimacy still caused the resurfacing of old bruises. But he could feel her sincerity and he appreciated the complete unselfishness in what she had offered him. He hugged back as the small lump in his throat swelled. Then he released her, afraid that his eyes might spill over.

  “I’ll see you next Friday,” her smile was wide as she said goodbye, the same wetness in her own eyes as she turned to go.

  * * * * *

  Noel was restless and had been for days. Something was new. Something was changing. She could always sense it. Sue had been home a lot lately and the two of them had been spending their days together. The tug to escape the yard again was strong, but she was torn between that and Sue’s attentions. There was something in the quality of the woman’s behavior that beckoned her and Noel obeyed the call. There were long belly rubs and lengthy one way conversations. Noel would look Sue in the eye, absorbing the tone and the melodies and accepting the comfort of the gentle speaking.

  There were often times throughout the day, however, when Noel would push the curtain to the backyard window aside with her snout and rest her chin on the sill. That backyard, that place out there was her way to get to him. A low whine escaped her throat as she traced the lines of the back fence with her eyes, the familiar routine on her mind.

  Her first few tries at escape had failed, but after some practice she could do it now. Along the perimeter of the yard was a sturdy wooden fence, nearly six feet high. At the farthest end, there was a gate leading to the alley behind the house, where garbage was stored in large bins to be removed by city workers who drove through once a week. The gate was several inches shorter than the rest of the fence.

  That fact had caught her attention sometime earlier when she’d heard the familiar sound of the large truck making is slow passage down the alley. She watched the topmost portion of the truck move along above the fence. Then, when it reached the gate, she saw him. For just the tiniest second, the driver of the truck was visible as he passed through the section of fence where the gate was located. That small clue to a potential escape route had ignited within her the inherent canine GPS present in all dogs.

  That day, as the little spark of excitement ignited within, she had bolted through the doggie door located in the laundry room at the rear of the house. She bounded to the backyard gate and stared expectedly towards the top of its wooden planks. Instinctually, she knew that she could never traverse the gate from where she stood.

  Realizing this, she scanned the yard around her. To her right and running perpendicular to the rear fence, was Sue’s raised vegetable garden, supported by a retaining wall nearly three feet high. The retaining wall ran the length of the yard and ended several feet from the back fence, capping off to form a rectangle. Concrete bricks formed the perimeter, keeping the soil from spilling into the rest of the yard.

  Hopping from her spot in the grass into the raised garden was easy enough. She explored momentarily, a barrage of varying scents rapidly dilating her nostrils. Not a bit of practice was required to keep
entirely to the brick border surrounding the plants. She stood at the south end on the last few bricks that faced the back gate.

  She lacked the confidence to attempt the jump from right there at the edge. She backed up her hind legs and retreated a few feet. Then with her eyes locked on that sweet spot along the fence, she strode those several feet and lifted off, her powerful hind legs catapulting her cleanly over the top.

  She landed with a skid upon a sheet of fallen leaves that had been blown from nearby yards and onto the well worn asphalt of the narrow alley. She glanced back toward the fence, as if wondering for a moment if she’d actually really done it. And she had. She was out. Now she was honed in, connected, pulled toward that place. That place where he was. She trotted off to find him.

  And that’s how it went the first time. And after she’d gotten the hang of it, her hesitation vanished. Her confidence ruled. She could leave anytime she wanted.

  Just recently, though, the last few times, Noel’s powerful thrusts off that last brick and over the fence had taken their toll. The garden wall had seen better days. And each time the brick felt the powerful force of her determined leap, the cement binding between it and the next brick began to give way. Tiny cracks in the aged adhesive widened, until at last, the brick was wobbling under the pressure.

  She hadn’t left the yard for several days now, staying close to Sue and feeling the subtle unease of some new thing coming, some new change. She pulled her nose away from the window and found Sue snoozing on the living room couch. She fought the urge that pulled her from outside and instead curled on the floor next to the sofa until she was asleep as well.

  * * * * *

  Friday arrived and that uneasy feeling of change was reaching a crescendo. Sue was talking a lot, explaining events to come as though Noel would understand her. In truth, the continuing string of words was only contributing to her anxiety. She whined from time to time as Sue spoke, as if to articulate frustration that she so badly wanted to understand what was being communicated to her.