“No, Gloria, it won’t happen again.”
“Thank you. Good night, CJ.”
“Good-bye.”
CJ came back into the room and shut her door. I bounded to her, licking her face. “Molly, I was four feet away from you, you crazy dog. Hey, you know what you’d be if you’re a cocker spaniel poodle? You’d be a cocker doodle doo dog. Yes, you would.” CJ kissed me on the face.
Trent carried the suitcases down the stairs and put them in the back of the car while I staked claim to the front seat. Rocky came over to sniff me but didn’t try to get in with me, which I wouldn’t have allowed anyway.
Trent seemed sad when he gave me a hug. I licked his face. I knew I’d see him and Rocky in a day or two.
Trent leaned in the front window, which CJ lowered after she got in the car. She put my window down, too, so I could breathe in the cold air.
“You know where you’re going?” he asked.
“I put it into my phone,” CJ said. “We’ll be fine, Trent.”
“Call me.”
“Well, I mean, won’t she be able to trace my cell phone calls?”
“Right, she’ll just ring up her contacts at the FBI.”
CJ laughed. Trent hugged her through the window. “You be a good dog, Molly,” he said to me.
I wagged at being a good dog.
“Here we go, Molly,” CJ said.
SIXTEEN
We took a long car ride. I elected to curl up on the front seat with my head within easy reach of CJ’s hand, and she’d touch me every so often. The love flowed through that hand and eased me into untroubled slumber. It was so much better than being in the place of the barking dogs. I hoped I would never have to go there again. I just wanted to be right where I was, a front-seat dog with my girl, CJ.
We stopped at a place with outdoor tables and wonderful food smells. “It’s not too bad out here if I keep my coat on,” CJ said as she tied my leash to a table leg. “You’ll be okay, right, Molly? I’m just going in there for a second. Don’t look at me like that; I’m not leaving you. You’re a good dog.”
I understood that I was a good dog. I made to follow her as she turned, but the leash stopped me. I strained against it as CJ went through some glass doors and into the building. I didn’t understand, and whimpered. If I was a good dog, I should be going with CJ!
“Hello, Molly.”
I looked around and there was Shane. I did not wag.
“Good dog.” Shane crouched next to me and petted my head. He smelled like smoke and oils and meat. I wasn’t sure what to do.
I wagged when I saw CJ. She was holding a bag and standing on the other side of the glass doors, looking at us. Shane waved his hand. CJ came out slowly.
“Hi, babe,” Shane said, standing up.
“I guess it would be stupid to ask if you’ve been following me,” CJ said. She set the bag down. I could smell food in it and really, really wanted to poke my head in for a sniff.
“I saw Trent putting suitcases in your car. So you’re not going to meet me at the park tomorrow.”
“A cousin of mine is sick. I’ve got to go visit her. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“The point is, you made a commitment to me. Now you’re breaking your promise.”
“You’re right, I’m in breach of contract.”
“This isn’t funny. This is what you do all the time,” Shane said.
“I would have called you.”
“That’s not the point. I told you I need to talk to you and you’ve been blowing me off. And now this, leaving town without even telling me—you gave me no choice but to follow you.”
I nuzzled CJ’s hand to remind her I was here and that I could put the contents of the bag to good use if she wasn’t going to.
“What do you want to talk about, Shane?” CJ said quietly.
“Well, us.” Shane stood up. “I’m having, like, insomnia. I even feel a little sick to my stomach, sometimes. And you don’t respond to my messages, how is that supposed to make me feel? Pretty angry, is what. You can’t do this to me, babe. I want it to be back the way it was. I miss you.”
“Wow,” CJ said. She sat at the table and finally, finally, started taking food out of the bag. I sat, being quiet and good.
“Wow what? Hey, can I have some of your fries?” Shane reached out and grabbed some delicious-smelling food and put it in his mouth. I tracked his hand, but he didn’t drop anything.
“Help yourself,” CJ said.
“You get any ketchup?”
CJ pushed the bag to him and Shane started rooting around in it. “Wow what?” he repeated.
“I just realized something about myself. About how talented I am,” CJ said.
“Yeah?”
“I have this ability to find friends who think only about themselves.”
Shane halted his food halfway to his mouth. I gave him all of my attention.
“Is that all we are? Friends?” he asked quietly.
CJ exhaled and looked away.
“You know that’s not true, babe,” Shane said, tantalizing odors swirling out on his words. “It’s like you’re perfect for me. Everyone says we’re great together. Hey, get more ketchup, okay? You only got one packet. That’s not enough.”
CJ sat for a moment looking at him, then wordlessly got up and went into the building. As soon as she was inside, Shane reached over and looked in her purse, pulling something out that wasn’t edible—CJ’s phone. He didn’t talk to it, though. He stared at it. “Santa Monica?” he said out loud. “Holy…” He tossed the phone in the purse and sat back.
CJ came outside and handed him something. Her hand reached down and stroked me. “I’ll give you some dinner in a minute, Molly,” she said. Having “dinner” and “Molly” in the same sentence made me happy.
“So this cousin, where did you say she lives?” Shane said.
“What?”
“I said where are you going.”
“Oh. St. Louis.”
“Right. We both know that’s a lie.”
“Sorry?”
“You don’t have a sick cousin. You’re taking off so you don’t have to deal with me like an honest person.”
“And your special talent is being accidentally hilarious.”
Shane’s anger flashed hot, popping off his skin. He brought his hand down on the table in a hard slap. I jumped up, startled and uncertain what he was doing. I felt some fear in CJ. What was going on? The fur on my back involuntarily rose—I could feel the prickling of my skin as it did so.
“This ends here,” Shane snapped.
“What does?”
“The lying. The manipulating. The selfishness.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re getting in our cars and driving back to Wexford. I’ll follow you and Molly will ride with me so I know you won’t try anything stupid.”
I looked up at him. CJ sat for a long time without saying anything or eating. “Okay,” she finally said. Her fear had left.
“Good.” Shane’s anger was receding as well. Whatever had happened between the two of them appeared over.
CJ pushed the sack away from her.
“You’re not going to eat that?” Shane asked.
“Knock yourself out.”
Shane began eating CJ’s meal. I watched mournfully. “Give me your keys; I’ll put Molly in your car,” CJ said.
“I’ll do it,” Shane said.
“No, I have to be the one.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“If you do it she won’t understand. I have to do it. She won’t want to go with you—dogs are good at judging character. I want her to sit in there for a minute and get used to the idea before we go.”
“Judge of good character.” Shane snorted.
“Are you going to give me the keys or not?”
Shane, chewing, reached into his pocket and tossed something at her that jangled with the distinctive sound of keys. CJ started to pick them up an
d dropped them in front of me. I leaned forward for a sniff, smelling smoke and some long-dead animal.
“You have a rabbit’s foot on your keys now?” CJ said.
“Yeah. It reminds me how lucky I am to have you.”
CJ made a noise and scooped up the dead-animal thing with the keys. She untied me. “Come on, Molly.”
“I’ll be there in a sec,” Shane said.
“No rush.” CJ led me over to a car and opened the door. I could smell Shane inside, plus other odors, but no dogs. “Okay, Molly, get in!”
This didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I jumped in as instructed, glad it was the front seat. CJ leaned over and the window on my side of the car slid all the way down. “Okay, Molly, you’re a good girl,” CJ said. “This is all going to work out okay.”
CJ shut the car door. I watched, mystified, as she went back to sit with Shane. What were we doing? I stuck my head out the open window, whining softly.
CJ stood and went back into the building. Shane continued to eat without looking up or indicating he was saving any dinner for me.
Then I jerked my head, startled. The back door of the building had opened and now CJ was there, moving quietly away. What was going on? I lost sight of her around the building and whimpered.
I heard the distinctive sound that was her car starting up and whimpered even more loudly. Shane stood up, taking the bag and putting it in the trash. He yawned, looked at his wrist, and then stared at the doors to the building. He cocked his head, rubbing his jaw.
CJ’s car came around the corner, speeding right past Shane, who stared at it, frozen. It drove a few dozen yards down the road and the front door opened.
“Molly!” CJ yelled.
Shane turned to look at me. I barked out the window.
“Molly!” CJ yelled again.
Shane lowered his head and ran right at me. I pulled my head out of the window and circled around in the front seat. It seemed very probable that Shane was going to open the door and let me out to be with my girl.
“Molly!” CJ screamed. “Come here! Now! Molly!”
I turned and scampered across the car seat and flew straight out the open window just as Shane arrived at his car. “Got you!” he said, grabbing me. I felt his hand on my back and I ducked my head and twisted and then broke free. “Stop! Bad dog!” he yelled.
Shane started chasing me. I streaked across the parking lot and bounded through CJ’s open door, across her lap, and into the seat next to her, panting. CJ shut the door and drove off.
She was looking up at the top of the front window. “You’re just not very bright, are you, Shane,” she said. She was driving slowly and after just a few moments pulled over and stopped. She was still looking at the top of the window.
I turned and looked out the back window and there was Shane, running after us. I could tell by his face that he was angry. CJ rolled down her window and very, very slowly began driving again.
Shane stopped running, putting his hands on his knees. CJ stopped her car. He looked up, then started walking toward us. He got closer, then closer still, so close that with the wind at his back I could easily smell the food he’d just been eating. I would have liked to lick somebody’s fingers at some point.
The car started rolling again. CJ reached into her purse and picked up the dead-animal keys. She held them out the window, waving them, then tossed them over the top of the car and into the tall grass on the side of the road. Then she drove away. I watched through the back window as Shane walked up to where we’d been and stared into the field, his hands on his hips.
I could have found the keys easily, but people aren’t especially good at locating lost things. That’s one of the reasons why they have dogs. In this case, though, something told me that CJ had thrown the keys for reasons that had nothing to do with a game of find-and-bring-back.
CJ soon stopped the car and poured food into a bowl for me. I knew she wouldn’t forget to feed me, but frankly, what Shane had been pulling from the bag had smelled a lot more interesting.
It was the longest car ride I can ever remember taking. In the night CJ parked the car under a light and slept on the front seat and I slept with my head resting on her legs. We drove through a very snowy place and then a windy and dry place.
Most of the time when CJ ate, someone would hand her a bag of food from a building. Sometimes we ate at an outside table. The meals were exotic and delicious. This was one of the best car rides I’d ever taken!
I was in a deep sleep when the car stopped and shut off. I shook myself, blearily looking around. We were with a lot of other cars. The sun was not yet very high in the sky. “We’re here, Molly!” CJ said.
We got out of the car and the smell hit me and, just like that, I knew exactly where we were.
When I was a dog who Worked doing Find and Show, I would often come with my people, Jakob or Maya, to this very place. It was the ocean. CJ led me down to the water and let me off the leash and laughed and I leaped into the water, a couple of days’ worth of pent-up energy inciting me to run though the waves in lunges.
We played there for a while and then walked up to some outdoor tables. CJ gave me water and food and sat with me in the sun as it got warmer.
“Nice day,” a man said. “Pretty dog.”
He reached down to pet me. His hands smelled like mint.
“Thanks,” CJ said.
“Where’re you from? I’m going to guess Ohio.”
“What? No, I’m from here.”
The man laughed. “Not with that coat you’re not. My name’s Bart.”
“Hi,” CJ said. She looked away.
“Okay, I get it, you don’t want company. It’s just such a nice day, I wanted to say hello to you and your dog. Be careful the cops don’t catch your pooch on the beach; they’ll ticket you if they do.” The man smiled again and then went over to a table and sat by himself.
For the next couple of days we would sleep in the car and then CJ would go to stand under some flowing water and take me with her into a small building where she would change her clothes. Then we would drive around, mostly to restaurants, by the smell of them. CJ would tie me up in the shade and go inside and sometimes come right out and sometimes stay in for a while. By the end of the day her hair and clothing was rich with wonderful cooking odors.
CJ always took me to the ocean to run and play, but she didn’t ever swim herself.
“Oh, you are such a good dog, Molly,” CJ said. “It’s a lot harder to get a job than I thought it would be, even for minimum wage.”
I wagged at being a good dog. We were, as far as I was concerned, having one of the most wonderful times ever. We were either in the car or outside every day!
Several nights later, as we were settling in to go to sleep, it began to rain. CJ usually left the windows cracked open, but when the rain started to come in she rolled them up, which was why I didn’t smell the man. I saw him only when he emerged from the rain under the tall street lamp. It was as if the night and the rain came together and suddenly made a wet, dark man. I sat perfectly still, watching him. He had long hair on his head and face and was carrying a big bag over his shoulder. He was looking right at us.
I felt the fear rise in CJ and knew she saw him, too. A low growl came from my throat.
“It’s okay, Molly,” CJ said. I wagged. The man looked around slowly—he seemed to be examining the other few cars in the parking lot. Then he turned to look at us again.
CJ inhaled sharply as the man strode deliberately toward us.
SEVENTEEN
The man came right up to the car and when his hand reached out to touch the door I hit the window in full snarl, barking and snapping. I was letting him know if he tried to get in the car he would be met with teeth. And I would bite him; I could feel it in my mouth.
Rain was pouring off of the man’s long hair, flowing down his face as he bent over to see us. He was ignoring me and was instead watching CJ. CJ was so afraid a small cry came from
her lips. I could hear her heart beating.
I was enraged that anyone would frighten my girl. Incensed, I scratched at the glass, hurling myself at it again and again, wanting to get through it. My bark had the same savage quality to it that I’d brought to the barn to protect Clarity from Troy.
The man smiled and knocked at the window. I bit at the glass where his knuckle was rapping. Then he straightened and looked around.
“Go away!” CJ yelled.
The man didn’t react. After a minute, he walked off, disappearing into the gloom.
“Oh my God. Oh, Molly, you are such a good dog,” CJ said, throwing her arms around me. I licked her face. “I was so scared. He looked like, like a zombie or something! But you protected me, didn’t you? You’re a guard dog, a guard dog and a poodle—a goodle! I love you so much.”
There was a huge bang and CJ screamed. The man was back and he had a stick and he had hit the window with it. He was smiling—all I could see in the rain and the dark were his crooked, yellow teeth, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. He hit the window again and I put my face to the glass and now I could see his eyes and I stared at them, my mouth in a snarl, drool flying. He was frightening my girl and I let the rage flow into me and I desired nothing more but to bite that man.
He laughed, looking in the window. He pointed his finger at me and then shook it, the way Gloria did when she talked to me. And then he straightened and vanished into the wet darkness.
I’d always thought of sticks as being something to play with, but now I understood a stick could also be a bad thing, if you were in a scary place and the person holding it wasn’t trying to play with you.
The rain made a loud roar on the car all night. CJ didn’t sleep at first, but gradually the fear left her and she put her head down. I pressed up against her as I dozed to let her know she was being protected by her dog.
The next morning it was very bright outside. The wet ground smelled really interesting, but CJ wanted to go to the place where we could sit at outdoor tables. When we got there the nice man we’d met a few days before greeted us and leaned down to pet me. He was taller than most men I’d ever met. His hands smelled like mint again. “Let me buy you breakfast,” he said.
A Dog's Journey Page 13
