What mattered most was that the apartment was furnished. Without moving much from the condo, Jeff could stay here for however long—and he hoped it would be short. More important, he also hoped that Earnest could live here. Mr. Ripley, who had gray sideburns and a paunch, was the only Gamble landlord on craigslist willing to consider a pet, and Jeff had come running after work with Earnest’s photo.
“Here he is. He’s a fantastic dog!” From his wallet, Jeff handed Mr. Ripley the picture, which he took with the tips of his stubby thumb and index finger. He acted like Earnest had mange that might crawl out of the photo. “I can’t bring him here right now because he’s at the vet’s. But you can see how handsome he is,” Jeff said.
“I don’t care what he looks like. I care how he behaves. How do I know this dog won’t rip up my apartment?” To Mr. Ripley, Earnest was surely fanged and bent on destruction.
“Earnest is a Lab. The friendliest, most well-behaved breed. He’s at the clinic because he inhaled smoke. He’s a hero. He rescued people in a fire.”
“The one on Rainier yesterday?”
“Yes.” Plant Parenthood was just two blocks from this apartment.
“Does the dog shed?” Mr. Ripley asked.
“I brush him every day.”
“Bark?”
“Rarely. The only time he loudly voices an opinion is when he’s being protective.”
“How much does he weigh?”
“About eighty pounds, but he’s surprisingly graceful. He doesn’t break things. He’s never attacked another dog.”
Mr. Ripley eyed Jeff with misgiving. “Usually, I have to meet the pet in person.”
“You’d love Earnest. Everybody does. Really.” No pleading. Keep the desperation under wraps. “If you want someone to vouch for him, I can get a reference from his vet. It’s Dr. Nilsen. Do you know him?”
“Never had a pet. Don’t much like animals.”
“Right,” Jeff nodded.
Mr. Ripley studied Earnest’s face with the focus of a general trying to decipher the secret code of an invading army. “I don’t know. I guess he seems okay.”
Great.
He handed the photo back to Jeff, picked up his backpack by the door, and pulled out a legal-size paper. “I’ll want a four-hundred-dollar deposit, and here’s the year’s lease you need to sign.”
Aargh. On the phone Jeff had not asked about a lease. He’d hoped Mr. Ripley, like many landlords on their friendly island, rented with only a deposit and a handshake.
“Could the lease be month-to-month?” Jeff asked. Otherwise, he’d have to break it to move back to the condo.
“The shortest I ever allowed was six months, and that was for my brother-in-law,” Mr. Ripley said.
“What if I paid a higher rent each month?”
“Like how much?”
“Say fifty dollars?”
Mr. Ripley seemed to consider this offer for a moment. “You could move out in a month or two and leave me stuck with this place in the middle of winter. Nobody rents in the rain.”
“Um . . .” As Jeff collected his thoughts, his gaze went to fly specks on the window. Eye contact was hard when he edged too close for comfort toward deception.
If he had his way, he’d move out of here in a week and forfeit the rest of this month’s rent. Yet he valued honesty and decency, and he wouldn’t want to leave this man in the lurch. On the other hand, Jeff didn’t know how long Anna would take to come to her senses. He might have to live here for a couple of months or more. If his future truly were not definite, he wasn’t misleading anyone.
“I want to live here. I’ll keep it clean. I’ll pay the rent on time. Earnest and I won’t cause you trouble.”
When Mr. Ripley exhaled, his belly jiggled slightly. “Oh, all right.”
“Thanks.” Jeff clapped Mr. Ripley’s beefy shoulder as he took the lease. He quickly looked it over, signed it, and wrote out a deposit check. Mr. Ripley gave him a key.
“Anna?” Jeff called.
He could tell just from stepping inside the condo that she wasn’t home. Evening shadows darkened the living room, and something felt askew. Instead of the usual warmth, there was an unsettling emptiness. Now that Jeff wasn’t exactly living here, the room itself didn’t seem the same, either.
Sure, against one wall was the same white denim sofa he’d slept on, and, across from it, the same love seat with a whisper of pink like a blush. The his-and-hers wingback chairs. Anna’s plants. Jeff ’s landscape paintings. Earnest’s wicker bed and its royal-blue pillow. The shelves where Jeff and Anna’s books mingled together.
But Jeff felt like he was trespassing on someone else’s property, and he didn’t quite belong here anymore. Uneasy, he went to the bathroom and packed his toiletries bag, including Pepcid for stressful days like the last two, and ZzzQuil if the stress kept him awake. From the bedroom closet he got pajamas and a change of clothes. Tomorrow after work he’d come back for more.
He stopped in the kitchen and made a chicken sandwich, which he ate standing at the counter. In the quiet, he could hear himself chew. He felt slightly furtive. If Anna came home and found him, he should probably bolt out the door.
In the garage, he stopped at his and Anna’s storage locker and rummaged through the camping gear. In a plastic bin he found their sleeping bags, and it did not escape his notice that they seemed to be snuggling, as he and Anna had on camping trips when they’d zipped the bags together.
Pulling his bag out of the bin and leaving Anna’s behind depressed him. Easy, man, he comforted himself. You’ll be camping with her again before long.
He told himself again that his move was temporary. He would soon be back in his and Anna’s bed. As usual, Earnest would start the evening snoring innocently on the rug. But as the night got cooler and Jeff and Anna’s sleep got deeper, Earnest would sneak up on their bed and wriggle between them so they made a sandwich, Earnest the ham and Jeff and Anna the bread. Those were the coziest times, the three of them cuddled up together in their nest. Jeff warmed at the memory. What he wouldn’t give to sleep like that tonight.
CHAPTER 11
No one would have known that Earnest had inhaled smoke. He pranced down the hall the best he could with his burned paw and plastic cone, and he burst into Plant Parenthood to reclaim his kingdom. But then he paused, moved his head around, and peered out the cone at Anna’s shop.
He looked up at her with a puzzled expression. What the devil has happened here?
“The fire, Sweetie. Remember?”
Earnest aimed his charcoal-lump nose toward the floor and tried to sniff his way to what had been Anna’s houseplant jungle. Now only Edgar and Constance greeted him, with sagging leaves and withered fronds. Earnest circled the half-filled garbage bags, the empty flower buckets, and the chests and tables, now denuded of their merchandise. He bumped his cone against the base of Anna’s sink, where sooty metal Buddhas were soaking in soapy water.
Anna held up Earnest’s gray lily pad so he could see. “Smoke got your bed. I’m going to throw it out, but don’t worry. Last night I ordered you a new one online.”
For now, Anna set her sleeping bag on the floor and patted it to encourage Earnest to nestle in for a nap. She did not mention that she’d gotten her bag from the storage locker that morning, and Jeff ’s had been missing. Or that she’d not seen him at the condo last night. Later today Earnest would get home and realize that his family was divided. She dreaded the distress that would cause him.
Her own distress was enough for them both.Two days after learning of Jeff’s deception, shock and resentment still churned through her—but now also sadness, and sometimes she felt numb. Her feelings must have emanated from her with an odor as arresting as ammonia because Earnest cocked his head and watched her, his face somber.
His pensive eyes informed her that he had noted her unhappiness, and his conclusion was, I smell a rat.
“You get some rest, Sweetie. That’s your job right now. You’ve
had a huge ordeal.”
What’s going on? What are you not telling me? asked his forehead furrows.
“Here, Earnest. Lie down.”
Winston Somebody—Anna didn’t catch his last name—looked like a hedgehog. He had small round eyes, a pointed nose, and a salt-and-pepper flattop that grew in the manner of freshly mowed grass. He walked into Plant Parenthood and introduced himself, but shrank back to the doorway when Earnest came to greet him.
Winston glared at him as he would have at a weevil. “Does he bite?”
“In that cone, he couldn’t if he wanted to. He’s just trying to say hello,” Anna said.
“Get him away.” Winston waved his arms. He could have been fanning poison gas.
How absurd. “Here, Earnest. Come back to the sleeping bag.”
Earnest looked insulted. From deep inside his cone, he shot Winston a black, distrustful look. Earnest sat with his front paws extended so his body made a tripod—the better to spring forward and bark if Winston tried anything funny.
“At least he obeys,” Winston sniffed. He edged back into the room, as far away as possible from Earnest. “I’m an adjuster for Seaco Insurance. I need to estimate the damage here.”
“Be my guest.” Anna picked a Buddha out of the sink. As she squeezed a soapy sponge over his head, gray dribbled down his robe and left behind shiny brass trails. Anna dunked him back into the water and wiped the sponge over his face and arms.
Slinking around the windows, Winston glanced repeatedly at Earnest to make sure he wasn’t gearing up for an assault. He walked the shop’s perimeter, then stepped behind Anna’s counter, a protective barrier in case Earnest decided to lunge at his throat. He smoothed a hand over the wall and grimaced at the residue. “Looks like the main problem in here is from smoke.”
“That’s true of the whole house except the kitchen,” Anna said.
“It’s going to need a lot of fixing.”
“When will you do it?” Anna asked, though she assumed Mrs. Blackmore didn’t intend to fix anything.
“I don’t do repairs. I estimate them.”
“So you have no idea when the electricity will be turned back on?” Anna asked.
“That’s an easy question. Not till the house is rewired.”
Disappointed, Anna groaned and gripped the Buddha. If a fig had fallen from his Bodhi tree and bonked him on the head, his scowl would not have been as dark as hers. “We’re desperate for power,” she said.
“Lady, you don’t want power here till the wiring’s repaired. It’s not safe. It caused the fire in the first place.”
Winston’s news danced down the counter and brushed Anna’s face with the pleasure of a long-desired kiss. “The wiring caused the fire?”
“According to the investigator’s report.”
“So it was faulty!” Our Mr. Coffee is innocent! Mrs. Scroogemore can’t sue us! Maybe we can sue her . . . but, then, she’d never sell us the house.
Winston fixed his beady hedgehog eyes on Anna. “Look, I’m not supposed to talk with you about this stuff.”
“I’m glad you did.”
“Forget I said anything. And forget turning on the electricity. Trust me. The wiring needs to be brought up to code.”
At the end of the day, when Anna left for home with Earnest, they paused at Lauren’s poetry post for her latest September poem. Each month she usually put up only a single poem, written by one of her many community contributors. But this poem was her own, posted without delay, she said, because she wanted to make an important point. Anna pulled a copy from the Plexiglas box and read:
THE FIRE
The fire began with a single spark,
Which caused electric wires to arc.
Hiding in the kitchen wall,
This monster sought to consume it all.
He devoured the cookbooks, the kitchen table.
His crackling flames threatened the gable.
His evil smoke breathed the first alarm.
With smoke he meant to do his harm.
Smoke swirled throughout our treasured place,
Smell and soot left in our space.
The monster’s appetite was cruel.
Yet his destruction becomes my fuel.
Give up? Not in my DNA.
We live to fight another day.
Begin again, I tell my soul.
That’s who I am. That’s how I roll.
CHAPTER 12
“Earnest!” In the condo’s entry, Jeff sank to his knees and hugged him.
Wriggling with happiness, Earnest nuzzled Jeff despite the evil plastic cone, which would have vexed Saint Monica, the patron saint of patience. At last home from the clinic, Earnest squeaked and wagged his tail as if he thought it could lift him into flight. He unambiguously declared, I’m thrilled to see you! I love you! We’re finally all together again!
Jeff said, “We were worried about you, Earnest.”
We. Without thinking, Jeff had used the word. For three days he and Anna had not been a “we”—they’d split into an “I” and an “I.”
Jeff looked around the living room. “Is Anna here?” he asked Earnest. Jeff got to his feet. “Anna?”
No answer.
He found her stirring Earnest’s evening yogurt into his extra-nutritious kibble, whose expense took a firm financial commitment. When Jeff reached the kitchen doorway, she did not look up.
“So, how you doing?” he asked cheerfully despite the scrunch at the edges of her eyes. He’d seen it before, when she fought back tears. He wanted to hold and comfort her.
But as she kept stirring, the scrunch hardened, and the tears’ unexpressed sadness seemed to give way to irritation that was written all over her face. She pressed her lips together in a tight, straight line.
Jeff reminded himself not to let her ill feelings spoil his intent of going along with her wants and needs. For now, she was in the driver’s seat, and he was glad to run behind Vincent and cough in the exhaust. Sometimes you have to sacrifice in the present to achieve a future goal, he thought. No matter how mad she got, he would not veer from his plan to wait out her huff and welcome her back.
“I’m fine,” she finally said. “Have you come for the rest of your stuff?”
“That was my plan, but I wish you’d dissuade me.”
“Not likely.” Anna unfastened Earnest’s cone and set it on the counter. She placed his supper on the floor.
As he began to inhale his food—he didn’t chew, he vacuumed—Jeff pointed out, “Smoke didn’t ruin his appetite.”
Anna let the words roll by her. She stared out the window at fir trees, gray-black in the gathering dusk.
Jeff took the hint. “Okay, so I’ll start packing.”
He went to the bedroom and piled clothes on his and Anna’s bed. From the garage’s storage locker, he hauled back two suitcases and five Bekins moving boxes, which he assembled with tape. Slowly, he packed—underwear, towels, sheets, his pillow, some architecture books, and two Stephen King novels he hadn’t gotten around to reading yet. He rummaged through the bathroom for extra razor blades and shampoo. From the kitchen, where Anna was studying her tea as if her entire future hinged on how long her chamomile bag might float, he got a frying pan, sauce pan, cereal bowl, mug, spatula, knife and fork and spoon, and two glasses. He took a beer and a package of cheese from the refrigerator and put them in a paper bag.
As Jeff packed, Earnest, wearing his cone again, hobbled behind him from room to room. He tilted his head, the better to observe what disappeared into each box. Though he’d seen Jeff pack a suitcase for out-of-town business trips, he’d never seen him load items into large cardboard cubes. Their novelty clearly pricked his concern. What are you doing? asked his suspicious glances. Earnest’s worried eyes wrestled Jeff ’s resolve to the ground.
Guilt over what he was about to do to his dog pained him—guilt he didn’t deserve. The last thing he wanted or intended was to upset Earnest, and now his routine would be disrupted
, and he wouldn’t understand Anna and Jeff ’s separation even for a short time. Jeff didn’t know how to convey to him that Anna wanted it this way, that he wished he didn’t have to leave.
He supposed he could make up for Earnest’s disruption with ferry rides, or trips to the office, where his colleagues would fawn over him. Jeff could set him by the goal line at Saturday morning practices of the tyke soccer team Jeff coached. Earnest loved little kids. He would be happy. Jeff hoped.
He carried the boxes and his drafting stool and table to his rental truck. He took his two paintings off the wall. (They’d never look right with Mr. Ripley’s hot pink, but at least they’d add a civilized touch.) Jeff went back for the clock radio but decided that he could wake up by his cell phone and Anna needed the morning alarm. From the dresser’s top, he took a photo of Earnest leaning against Anna’s leg while she was browning hamburger.
Finally, as Anna remained in the study, ignoring Jeff, he went to the kitchen pantry. He lifted the cover of Earnest’s kibble vat and poured scoopfuls into a plastic bag. He took five cans of Earnest’s gourmet chicken and a bag of Cheetos, for which Earnest would gladly give a year of his life. Jeff removed Earnest’s leash from the hook by the back door.
“Let’s go, Bud,” he called.
As Earnest padded over to him, Anna rose from her chair. She looked angrier than a threatened mother grizzly, her claws unsheathed. “What are you doing?” she growled.
“Earnest is coming with me.”
“He is not.”
“Of course he is.”
“Earnest is staying here.With me.”
“That’s ridiculous. He’s my dog. I adopted him at Second Chance. I filled out the form and paid the fee.”
“He’s mine,” Anna seethed. “How could you be so callous? If you take him away, you’ll upset him more than the fire did.”
“You think my leaving won’t upset him?”
“Earnest needs his home.”
Earnest clearly heard his name being tossed back and forth because he moved his cone from Anna to Jeff, the better to read their faces and smell their smells, which shouted Danger! Trouble! Bad news! He narrowed his eyes to screen out the emotions that flew around the kitchen. As he crouched down and flattened back his ears, his face went dark, like blowing out a candle.
Earnest Page 7
