Alice turned as she was leaving the room and shook an admonishing finger at him for teasing her, and he grinned and winked.
Corinne was waiting on the grass in front of the house. A blond man stood beside her, twisting a ball cap in his big hands. He looked to be roughly Jane’s age, and as she neared, Alice could see that his hair was highlighted by strands of gray.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Alice.”
“This is Tom,” Corinne said. “He’s looking for his dog.”
“I’ve been to a bunch of the rescue places,” the man said. “Nobody had a dog like my Whitley.” At the last word, his voice broke. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Alice felt a rush of sympathy. Every day desperate people came through the camp, seeking their pets. Twice the volunteers had witnessed joyous reunions, but far more frequent were these devastating, disappointing moments. All the camp team could do was direct such people to any other rescue centers they might not have visited yet.
“I had to go over and get my mother to evacuate, so I left Whitley in the house with the dog door open like I always do when I leave so he could come and go,” Tom told her. “And after I picked up Ma I went back, but the highway patrol wouldn’t let me go that way. They made me turn ’round and drive inland. Said the storm was coming any minute. I had to go.”
He lowered his head, mangling the hat in his hands even more. “All I could think about was how afraid he was and how I promised him I’d be back for him. He trusted me and I let him down.”
Several other volunteers had gathered around as Tom told his story and like Alice, they all had tears in their eyes by now. Alice stood quietly, letting him grieve although she did not understand why Corinne had asked for her.
“Alice.” Corinne’s eyes were intent. “Whitley is a male German shepherd.”
“I looked,” Tom said, “and you all have four shepherds, but none of them were my guy. Thanks for trying though.”
Alice barely heard the end of his sentence. She turned and ran back to the house as Corinne said, “We have one more shepherd here, Tom. He was really sick but…”
In the CCU, Alice’s hands were shaking so badly that she could barely get a slip lead over the shepherd’s head. “Oh, please be Whitley,” she said to the dog.
The dog’s big ears went straight up.
Alice’s heart stuttered for a moment. “Whitley,” she said again.
The shepherd cocked his head and whined, his eyes bright and alert. And Alice knew.
She walked out the door of the house with the shepherd, trying to contain her hope. The odds were slim, she told herself, even if the dog had seemed to respond to the name. It wasn’t wise to get too excited.
Tom was with Corinne on the far side of the yard, his eyes glued on the house. As Alice and the dog appeared, both hands flew out in entreaty. “Whitley!” he called as he dropped to his knees, his face and voice joyous.
Alice released the dog’s leash as he surged forward with a surprising amount of energy and dashed across the yard. He bowled into Tom, who threw his arms around the dog. Licking his face, Whitley pranced and bounced so wildly that he knocked his owner completely onto the ground, where the two rolled around as Tom rubbed the broad head, stroked the long nose and ran his hands over every inch of the big-boned frame.
“He’s so thin,” he said, his voice breaking as he buried his face in his dog’s thick coat.
“He looks better now than he did when he came in,” Alice told the man. “He’s been eating well recently.”
Finally, Tom raised his head. Tears were unashamedly streaming down his tanned cheeks. “Thank you,” he said, choking on the words. “I can never thank you enough.”
“Thank Alice,” Luther said. “If she hadn’t spent hours coaxing Whitley to eat, your dog wouldn’t be here today. He was in really bad shape when he came in.”
The words warmed Alice. She realized through her tears that practically the whole camp had gathered around them. People were videotaping, snapping pictures, grinning and hugging each other. Tom stepped forward and hugged her, and Whitley leaped up on his powerful haunches to join them.
“Group hug!” someone called, laughing.
Joe bounded onto the hood of a nearby truck. “This!” he yelled, pointing at Tom and his dog. “This—right here—is why you came down here, people. This is what makes it worth the work.”
Alice flashed back to the night the dog had been brought in, lying on the rotting board, barely alive. It had, indeed, been worth it. “Thank You, Lord,” she whispered.
“I want to pay you.” Tom got to his feet. Whitley huddled his big body as close to Tom’s legs as he could get and the man kept one hand on his dog’s big head as he reached into his hip pocket. “I don’t have much,” he began, but Joe shook his head.
“You told me you lost everything. Use it for him,” he said, pointing to the dog, “and for your family. The one thing we’d like you to do is spread the word. Spread the word to other people searching for their pets, spread the word to others who are in a position to send donations, and spread the word to people willing to come and work with us.”
Tom nodded. He bent and cupped his dog’s face in his hands, laughing as Whitley licked him squarely across the chin. “You hear that, big guy? We have to spread the word.”
Chapter Fourteen
Louise and Karin planned a second rehearsal of the Santa Lucia celebration for Sunday afternoon. All the children indicated they could attend, so even though she hated to interrupt family time on Sundays, Louise scheduled the rehearsal.
The Lindars family was waiting at the church for Louise at three on Sunday. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Smith,” the children chorused as they piled out of the family van.
“Good afternoon.” Louise straightened the collar of her ivory sweater as she removed her coat. She had changed her clothing after church, not wanting to appear too dressed up. Working with young people was a balancing act between appearing authoritative and not appearing so fuddy-duddy that they tuned one out, she had learned. She looked around expectantly. “Where is your mother?”
“She’s got the flu.” Mattias, the nine-year-old, scrunched up his face comically. “She looks gross.”
“Mattie, hush.” Marit, his fourteen-year-old sister who would be the Lucia in the service, stepped in front of her wayward sibling and shooed him out of the way. Louise saw that Mr. Lindars had gotten out of the van as well.
“Karin says to tell you she’s so sorry she can’t be here,” Kettil Lindars said. “She sent this.” He extended a folder toward Louise. “Here is the costume information you can share with the group. She says there is a recipe in there, too, if your sister would like to look at it.”
Louise took the folder automatically. “But…your wife seemed fine at church this morning.”
“I know,” he said, shrugging. “Mattie had it last week. It comes on suddenly. We’re hoping no one else catches it. Luckily, it only lasts about a day, so she should be here for the next rehearsal.”
Louise sighed. “Please tell her I hope she feels better soon.”
“Will do. Thank you, Mrs. Smith.” Mr. Lindars jumped back into his van and pulled away.
As Louise entered the chapel, she muttered, “I really hope she feels better soon.”
Louise pulled the piano from its niche near the altar and took the dust cover off it. The piano was regularly tuned for events such as Bible school and special programs like this one.
She adjusted the stool to the proper height for her, then spread out her music neatly across the piano and opened Karin’s folder. Before rehearsal began, she had asked several of the parents to attend a brief costuming committee meeting. Karin was supposed to speak about what the participants might wear. Quickly, she looked over the notes so that she would be able to share the correct information.
She had planned on getting started promptly with the children, but now she would need to take time for this costuming pow-wow first. With so few rehears
als, they needed every moment to prepare their music. She intended to rehearse the songs the children already knew, then add another. She also hoped to have time to show all the children how the Lucia procession would line up.
“Mama sent some pictures from my old church of what our costumes looked like.” Marit noticed the sign-up sheets Louise had laid on a nearby table. “Would you like me to put them out with the sign-ups?”
“Yes. Thank you, dear. That would be very helpful.”
The chapel door opened and a swarm of children and a few adults came drifting in along with a whiff of the crisp autumn air. Louise glanced at her watch and then nodded approvingly as the first children took their seats.
The Camp Compassion Bible group met that afternoon. Alice had been worrying silently for several days about who would carry on in her absence.
Their little group had swelled to a dozen people over the past week. Faces came and went according to who arrived, who left and who had chores to do on any given day, but the group persisted. Alice felt that they had provided each other with much-needed spiritual support.
“Today I thought we could read a passage from the fourth chapter of 1 Peter. It’s about recognizing our own special gifts and abilities. I thought it might be appropriate, since many of us really had no idea we could be so helpful before coming down here,” she said to the group. “But before we begin, I have to bring up a matter of concern.” She paused, looking around at the faces of these strangers who had become comrades both in their work and in their spiritual quest. “Ellen, Royce and Miranda left us this morning. June and I are leaving tomorrow. I would ask that as we pray and study here together, all of you search your hearts and ask God if He is calling you to step forward and assume the leadership of the group. You need no prior experience. With your willingness, the Holy Spirit will guide your words.”
A man seated at the far side of the rough circle they had assumed raised a hand. “Alice, my name is Sherman. I only have been here for two days, but I would be happy to lead the group while I’m here. Perhaps before I leave, someone else will feel the call.”
Alice blinked. Could it really be that easy? “Thank you, Sherman,” she said warmly. “Your willingness to lead eases my concern about leaving.” And thank You, Lord, for Your all-knowing presence in our lives. I should have given this to You days ago instead of worrying about it on my own.
Jane was at the registration desk when she heard the rattle of the back door not long before dinner. She had just finished taking a reservation for January.
“Louise? I’m in here. Hey, I had this great idea for a Valentine’s Day promotion. I think we could fill all’”
Her sister’s appearance in the foyer stopped her in midsentence.
“Louise! What happened to you?”
Her eldest sister, normally the calm and unflappable one, looked as if she had been thoroughly shaken up. Her eyes were a bit glassy and her carefully coiffed silver hair was slightly mussed—something that Jane rarely saw. The skirt and sweater that had looked so crisp and attractive when she had left for rehearsal was wilted.
“I,” she said precisely, “have had an unutterably miserable forty-five minutes.”
“What happened?”
“The first problem was that Karin Lindars apparently got the flu right after church,” Louise recounted mournfully. “She was supposed to meet with the parents to discuss costumes while I began rehearsals, but since she was ill I had to do it. That meant that the children had to wait for almost fifteen minutes.”
“Unsupervised?”
“Yes. Well, I was in the room and so were a number of parents, but the children were getting fidgety and silly. When I finally began rehearsal, Delissa Anderstrand would not speak her lines.”
“Who’s…Melissa Anderstrand?”
“De-lissa,” Louise corrected. “She’s in kindergarten. She is extremely shy and just stood there looking blank each time she had a line, but that was not such an issue. I’ll just have another child ready to step in if she can’t do it. Then I turned around and Kate Waller’s little sister was sobbing her heart out. It took me ten minutes to figure out what was wrong.”
“Was she hurt?
“Wha…? Oh no.” Louise flapped a hand as if to wave away that suggestion. “She was crying because Tiffany Sherman got a speaking part and she did not. Apparently the two girls are friends and occasional rivals. Now how was I to know that?” she demanded in an aggrieved tone. “They didn’t write that down on their information sheets at the first session!”
Jane bit her lip so she would not smile. “No, I guess they wouldn’t have.”
“So I decided to split the part between them. It was a large part, anyhow. Tiffany wasn’t very happy, of course, but the problem was solved.” She fell silent for a moment.
Jane couldn’t stand it. “And then what happened?”
Louise sniffed. “Morley Trimble happened, that’s what. He told me at the beginning of the rehearsal that his tummy hurt, but you know how children can be. Aches and pains always crop up when they’re asked to do something they don’t enjoy.”
“You didn’t believe him?”
“I’m afraid not.” Louise lifted her head and slowly let out a breath. “I urged him to sit down and sing with us. Which he did. Until halfway through the rehearsal. All of a sudden, Morley jumped up and ran out of the room. I saw that he was headed for the restroom and deduced that he had not been pretending about feeling ill, so I sent an older boy to see if he was all right. As he left, he tripped over Delissa’s foot and fell. I saw him going down and attempted to catch him.”
“Attempted?”
“Attempted. I was not successful, but my less-than-graceful swan dive provided the children with quite a bit of amusement. Needless to say, my rehearsal effectively ended at that point.”
“Who knew a music rehearsal could be so traumatic?”
Louise looked at her sharply as if she suspected Jane was laughing at her. Jane managed to keep a perfectly straight face…for a moment. But she couldn’t contain herself, and she had to chuckle as she came out from behind the desk and patted Louise’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen, and I’ll cut you a nice slice of chocolate cake?”
Louise sighed. “I’m not sure that even chocolate can make me feel better after that rehearsal.”
It could not be Monday morning already, could it?
Alice walked across the grass with June, looking around as if she wanted to memorize every moment.
“I can’t believe we have to leave,” June said. “How did two weeks fly by so fast?”
“I don’t know. I’m not ready to go either. They still need help.”
“Joe said there was a new team from Ohio coming in today,” June reminded her. “And I imagine they’ll get a few more like us, who didn’t ask but just decided to come down and help. We have to trust God on this one, Alice. He’ll provide.”
“You’re right. I’ve prayed about it.” They all had. Several days before, their Bible group meeting had focused on asking the Lord for what was needed. “What time do you want to pull out?” she asked June. “Do I have time to help with breakfast feeding?”
“Oh, sure. I thought if we got on the road around nine we’d be doing fine. Would it be okay with you if we stop overnight this time? I’m just too tired to drive straight through, even taking turns.”
“That’s wise.” Alice forced herself to think of the pleasures of going home rather than the heartaches of leaving. “We aren’t going to know how to act when we can get real showers and sleep in real beds.”
“Well, I guess I’ll work with Jules one last time,” June said, naming the woman in charge of the room where the well cats were housed. “Shall we meet back here at eight forty-five?”
“All right. I’m going to the CCU. See you in a little while.”
It was nearly seven already. She had said good-bye to Mark, a parting that had ended with a tender hug between them. Her spirits had b
een lifted, but now she felt sad about leaving all her furry charges. She stopped in the cat room to see how “her” kitty was doing.
Alice’s heart sank when she saw that the little cat with the head wound wasn’t in her cage. Had she taken a turn for the worse during the night?
“What happened to our wounded kitty?” she asked as Gina appeared in the doorway leading to the dog room.
“Oh, don’t panic. She’s fine,” said Gina hastily. “Sorry to give you such a scare. Luther took her into the meds room because that’s the only quiet place in the whole joint and he wanted to evaluate her a little bit.”
Alice couldn’t resist. She slipped into the meds room, closing the door behind her. “Do you mind if I watch?”
Luther was on the floor with the cat. “Not at all.”
The cat had heard Alice’s voice and came stepping daintily toward her. There was a table leg in the way and Alice sucked in a breath of dismay as the cat headed straight for it. But at the last minute, it slowed and cautiously moved around the leg. It walked in an odd little circle to the right before straightening itself out and coming closer.
“Did you see that? She can walk. And I think she can see.”
Luther nodded. “I think you’re right. She has some sight—not much, but some—and that may improve as her brain heals. We’ll just have to wait. The circling also is brain damage. But given the blow she must have taken to the head, just having her on her feet moving around is a victory.”
“I’m so glad.” She hesitated for a moment. “Will the circling go away?”
“It may or it may not. If it doesn’t, it still might lessen. Either way, it doesn’t necessarily mean she can’t have a good quality of life. I have a brain-damaged cat at home, and he gets around just fine. We’ll just have to watch her for the next few weeks.”
Alice marveled to herself at the change in the veterinarian since the day she first met him. She supposed that since he was a vet, she should have expected him to own pets, but the thought really never crossed her mind.
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