by Robbi McCoy
She put a wiener in a bun and piled on a dipper of chili, then a hefty dollop of melted cheese. Anticipating her first bite, she wondered if this was a benefit or detriment of being single. If someone were waiting at home for her, saving her a healthy plate of food, there’d be no chili dog. On the other hand, there’d be someone waiting at home for her, joyfully anticipating her arrival, kissing her affectionately at the door. She did like chili dogs, but on late Tuesday nights, perhaps more than any other time, the empty house seemed emptier than ever. The chili dog was a tiny bit of compensation for that.
Jackie returned to the checkout counter to pay, noting the big jar of Ida’s World-Famous Beef Jerky at her elbow. “How’s Ashley? Still playing the violin?”
“Yes,” Mona declared proudly. “She’s getting really good. The grammar school’s going to give a mini-concert later this month at the crawdad festival, so they’re practicing for that.”
“I’ll try to catch that, but I’ll be working the festival all weekend myself so I may not see much of the other entertainment. Our band is playing.”
“I’ll bring Ashley by. She’ll be blown away by your Granny and her fiddle.”
“Granny’s a wonder, isn’t she?”
“All of you are. Maybe you can sneak out for a few minutes to check out the rest of the festival. They’ve got to give you a food break so you can get your annual fix of crawdads.” Mona laughed. “Ashley used to be afraid of them, but now she thinks they’re yummy.”
Jackie bit into her hot dog, snapping through the wiener casing with an audible pop. “I’ll tell you what’s yummy,” she said after swallowing. “This!”
Mona laughed. “Oh, Jackie, you’re funny. Everybody thinks you’re a vegetarian. You know that, right?”
“No clue where they got that idea.”
“Maybe they got it from my Ashley. Remember a couple years ago when we brought in that miserable little runt of a puppy I thought for sure was going to die?”
“The chocolate Lab.”
“After you saved that puppy, for a year at least, whenever anybody asked Ashley what she wanted to be when she grew up, she said she wanted to be a vegetarian like Dr. Townsend.”
Jackie laughed. “That’s cute. For some reason, people do expect an animal doctor to be a vegetarian. That doesn’t seem all that logical to me. Sort of like expecting a farmer to eat only meat.” Jackie shrugged and took another bite of her hot dog. “I’m not altogether sure this is meat, but it’s really good, whatever it is.”
Mona opened her mouth to speak and Jackie raised one hand. “No, I don’t want to know.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
With no phone number for Stef, Jackie decided to make a house call Wednesday after work. Could be a rotten idea, she knew. She might even get a knife between the eyes, but she felt compelled to do it, if only to make it clear there were no hard feelings on her part. Yes, Stef had been rude and had mocked her and tried to humiliate her, but at their last meeting at the clinic, she had been a totally different woman. She’d been humble, contrite and clearly distressed by her dog’s injuries. A woman in distress, that’s the last image Jackie had of Stef, and it moved her. She found that image much more attractive than the other sarcastic, disdainful one. She had a hard time resisting a woman in distress.
Stef was working at the back of her boat. She stopped what she was doing and stood up, peering at Jackie’s vehicle as it pulled into the driveway. Deuce ran over to greet her, no longer wearing bandages or a cone. Stef walked over, an adjustable wrench in hand.
“Hi,” Jackie called cheerfully, stepping out of the car.
“Hi,” Stef replied.
“How’s Deuce doing?” She knelt down to get a closer look at his mouth.
“Great. He’s his old self. He’s just a little tender.”
“Niko told me you canceled your appointment. I was concerned.”
“Nothing to be concerned about. Something came up, so I was out of town.”
“We should get those stitches out.”
“I was going to bring him in tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Jackie nodded, aware that there was nothing of the woman in distress about Stef today. “Since I’m here, why don’t I do it now. Save you a trip. I brought my scissors.”
Stef hesitated, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes vaguely antagonistic. Damn, she was a sexy woman! Jackie thought. Sexy in an aloof way. A tough, sultry kind of way. In a way that just made you want to grab her and kiss that pout right off her mouth.
“Why don’t you give me a hand here first,” Stef suggested, indicating the rear of the boat.
“Okay. Sure,” she said, taken by surprise.
“I finally got the old propeller off,” she explained, pointing to the broken part in the dirt. “If you hold this one in place, I can get it attached.” She lifted up the propeller and slid it over the shaft. “Just hold it on there like that.”
Jackie squatted down to take hold of the propeller blades, pushing the unit flush against its mount. Stef stood behind her, leaning into her while she slid on a washer, then screwed a nut in place. She hand-tightened it, her thigh against Jackie’s shoulder. Jackie allowed herself to indulge in the pleasure of that sensation for the few seconds it lasted.
“Okay,” Stef said, stepping back. “You can let go.”
Jackie moved out of the way while Stef snugged up the nut with the wrench.
“Thanks. That was a three-handed job.” Stef wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of dirt. A rare smile of triumph appeared on her face. “Progress, at last!”
“You think she’ll be on the water soon?” Jackie asked.
“I don’t know. There are still some sticky problems. The engine, for instance. I haven’t figured out what’s wrong with it yet. And the bad pontoon. I’ll have to replace the pontoon, which is on order, but I can’t afford a new engine. I have to fix it somehow. I’m not a mechanic, but thank God for YouTube, you know! Everything’s on there. How to replace coils and the water pump impeller. Been a lifesaver so far.”
“YouTube!” Jackie laughed. “Is that what you’re relying on?”
“Partly. I know a little. I have an older brother who was always tinkering with cars. He taught me a few things.”
“That brother might come in handy right now.”
“He might, but he lives in Florida.”
“Do you have other siblings?”
“Another brother, Jay. He’s younger. Haven’t seen him in a while. My family’s not all that close.” Stef laid her wrench on the deck. “Let’s take care of Deuce.”
While Jackie took the stitches out, Stef held the anxious Deuce still. The wound was healing at a good pace with no visible complications.
“Looking good.” Jackie gave Deuce a pat on the head and stood, pulling off her gloves. “Pretty soon he’ll have forgotten all about that horse.”
“I hope he remembers a little bit about it, so he won’t mess with one again.”
“Good point.”
“Thanks,” Stef said. “Considering all the trouble that little excursion caused us, you’d think we’d at least have gotten ourselves a few crawdads.”
“Crawdads?”
“That’s what I was doing that afternoon, hunting crawdads. I thought I could scoop them up with a net. No luck. I didn’t see a single one.”
“They’re nocturnal. You might see them now and then in the day, but they come out to eat at night. If you go out at dusk, you can catch them, usually, with a net. The official way to catch them is with a baited trap. You put it in the water overnight. It’ll be full of mudbugs the next day.”
“Mudbugs?”
“Another name for crawdads,” Jackie explained. “Sort of a pet name, I guess.”
“Oh. Sounds like they’re easy to catch if you know how.”
“They are. There are a lot of methods that work. Kids catch them any way they can. I used to catch them with my bare hands sometimes…very carefull
y. Or we’d make these funky scoops by cutting a milk carton in half and shoving a long stick through it. Then rustle around in the shallows.” Jackie saw that Stef was smiling, so she continued with her crawdad reminiscences. “We’d sneak hot dogs out of the house, my sister and I. We’d cut them into chunks, then tie them on a string and lower the string into the water. When the crawdad comes to eat it, you just pull up and there he is, nibbling away.”
“You must have really liked crawdads.”
Jackie laughed. “We liked catching them. Back then, you could sell them directly to restaurants. They paid kids a dollar a dozen, a terrific deal for the restaurant. They’d turn around and sell them to tourists for ten times that. But we would have done it for even less because it was just a fun thing to do. You’ll think this is silly, but as a child I even kept them as pets.”
Stef looked askance at her.
“My mother doesn’t like animals around the house,” Jackie explained. “I wasn’t allowed to have traditional pets like a dog or cat. So I had a fish tank in my bedroom with a few crawdads in it. I even tried to teach them tricks. I had one where they climbed up a little plastic ladder that came on a toy fire truck. Like circus dogs. They got very good at that, but I’m pretty sure they were just trying to escape.”
Stef laughed. “That’s funny!”
Jackie shrugged.
“If you can catch them with a milk carton on a stick, I ought to be able to catch some in a fishing net. Maybe I’ll try again.”
“You need a fishing license for that, you know. I wouldn’t want you to get fined.”
“Oh. Thanks. I didn’t realize.”
“I guess you must have liked them if you want to catch some more.”
“No, not really,” Stef replied. “I was thinking of turning them into a circus act and going on the road with them.”
Jackie laughed, trying to keep her eyes off Stef’s mouth.
“Seriously,” said Stef, “I did like them. The berries and asparagus were good too. It was nice of you to bring them. I’m sorry I was such an ass that day.”
“Apology accepted.”
Jackie was happy to see Stef’s change of attitude, though she wasn’t sure exactly what parts Stef was sorry for. Did that include kissing her? She hoped not. She hoped that was just an awkward beginning to a thrilling romantic adventure. She hoped Stef was genuinely attracted to her. Because she really wanted to kiss her again. But Stef was aloof as well as repentant today, seeming not the least bit inclined toward romance.
“Thanks for your help,” she said, moving toward the door, clearly signaling that it was time for Jackie to go.
“I’ve got a couple crawdad traps at home. I can take you out to a foolproof spot and show you how it’s done.”
Stef nodded uncertainly, as if she were carefully considering her answer. “I should keep working on this thing. There’s still a lot to do.”
“You need to take a break sometime. How about Saturday? You want to explore the Delta, right? I can show you around. I know some sweet out-of-the-way spots.”
Stef looked ambivalent.
“Come on,” Jackie urged. “It’ll be fun.”
“Okay,” Stef relented.
Jackie felt a huge sense of relief, as if she’d just won a major battle. “Great!”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
What am I doing? Stef asked herself as she rode her bike to Jackie’s house Saturday morning. She had been so clear on the plan when she came here. Fix the boat, shove it in the water and get lost in the labyrinth of waterways between here and the ocean. Don’t get involved with people. Definitely don’t make friends. She wasn’t a part of this town and wasn’t planning on being a part of it. But it was hard to remain indifferent to Jackie. She was so adorable and so enthusiastically friendly. She also had a warmth about her that had a soothing effect. Deuce responded to it too. He had become noticeably calmed under Jackie’s hands, despite the fact that she must have been distressing him by pulling out those stitches. She was gentle but confident, giving you the feeling that everything would be all right. She was a healer, a disposition and persona that apparently extended beyond animals.
Stef tried to relax and give herself permission to enjoy the day. How much harm could it do, anyway, to have a little fun?
She pulled off the road at the address Jackie had given her, hand painted on the side of a metal mailbox on a post. “J. Townsend” was the name on the box, and next to that was painted a small brown dog and white cat. She recognized Jackie’s pickup in the driveway.
Stef rode up to a small, older house surrounded by ancient oak trees and an unbroken stretch of mown grass tying the front, sides and back yards together. The house was painted white with forest-green trim and had an enclosed front porch. A calico cat sat on the railing licking its paw. Window boxes on the porch contained blooming geraniums.
The nearest neighbor was a quarter mile away, separated by a brown field enclosed in a barbed wire fence. Behind the house, a relaxed slope led down to a wide creek. On the bank rested two kayaks, one yellow, one red. Creekwise, Jackie had said, she and Stef were less than a mile apart. The roads were less direct. Stef removed her helmet and stepped off the bike as a rooster crowed somewhere nearby.
Jackie emerged from the house, all smiles as she approached, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, looking unabashedly happy. One thing about her that had impressed Stef from the first was how open and honest she was. Stef had the feeling she could take everything about Jackie, including what she said, at face value. If she was happy, like now, you’d know it. If she was angry, you’d know that too. That was unusual in Stef’s experience, but refreshing.
“The trap’s in my truck,” Jackie said, shoving her hands in her front pockets. “Are you ready to go crawdad fishing?”
Stef nodded, noticing a big, white three-legged tom cat that limped up and rubbed against Jackie’s leg.
“Your cat?” Stef asked.
“One of three. This is Tri-Tip.”
Stef let out an involuntary hoot of laughter. “Oh, that’s a good one! Did you name him?”
“Yes. Before I got hold of him, his name was Snowball. I’m the one who took off his leg.”
“He doesn’t seem to hold it against you.”
Jackie walked toward her truck with Stef following. “Animals don’t often hold a grudge. They live more in the present than we do.”
“He belonged to somebody before you?” Stef asked. “The people who called him Snowball?”
“Yes. When I told them I’d have to remove his leg or he’d die, they decided to put him down. He was only two years old and sweet as could be. I decided to keep him. He’s been here a year now. A three-legged cat can live a perfectly normal life. His previous family didn’t want an imperfect pet. They thought it would be creepy.” Jackie leaned down to pet the cat, then scratched briefly under his chin.
“So,” Stef said, “Jackie the Vet to the rescue!”
Jackie straightened up, looking at Stef with mild displeasure. Stef could see that her sarcastic humor might work well among her usual crowd, but Jackie didn’t appreciate it.
“You said you have three cats?” Stef asked.
“Right. Hobo—that’s her on the porch—was a fire victim. She lived in a homeless camp that burnt down. The guy who had her ended up in a burn unit and Hobo was brought to me. She’s okay now, minus a couple patches of fur. My other cat, Stinky, has a feline version of irritable bowel syndrome and lives outside out of necessity, if you know what I mean.” Jackie wrinkled up her nose. “All of my cats, and my dog Rooster, are rescued from some mess or another.”
“Your dog Rooster?”
“Only one eye.”
Stef nodded, starting to appreciate Jackie’s sense of humor. “I heard a rooster crow a few minutes ago. That wasn’t your dog, was it?”
Jackie laughed. “Actually, that was Dog, my rooster. I have three hens and one rooster. I got him after my dog and the name was irresistible.”
Stef shook her head, amused. “You don’t get confused?”
“Nope.”
“Do they?”
“Maybe. What about Deuce? How’d you get him?”
Stef was taken off guard by the question. She hesitated, considering her answer. “He belonged to a friend who couldn’t keep him anymore,” she said vaguely.
Hearing a honking horn, they turned to see a white van pull off the road and come directly toward them.
“That’s Gail and Pat,” Jackie said, looking puzzled.
As soon as the van stopped, one of the women leapt out of the passenger side. She wore a short-sleeved khaki shirt and olive green pants, a uniform complete with a utility belt holding a semiautomatic handgun and radio. Stef quickly located the insignia on her sleeve and recognized the logo of the California Fish and Game Department. A silver badge adorned the left side of her shirt. Her hair was short, curly and blonde. Her eyes were obscured by wraparound sunglasses. Stef realized she could be the woman who’d been kayaking with Jackie the first time she saw her.
“Fish and Game emergency!” she hollered. “Get in.”
“What?” asked Jackie. “What’s going on?”
“Sturgeon rescue operation,” the warden explained. “Come on. We need you.” She turned to Stef. “You too. It’s Stef, right? Get in!”
Stef’s mouth fell open, but the warden wasn’t waiting for objections. She was already back in the van. Jackie shrugged and flashed a darling smile at Stef, then got in the backseat. Stef got in the other side behind the driver, a plump Asian woman about thirty years old wearing shorts and a T-shirt and a baseball cap over fine black hair. Jackie introduced her as Pat. The warden’s name was Gail. They were a couple. As soon as the doors were shut, the van was in motion and back on the road.
