Good Guys Love Dogs

by Inglath Cooper

  14

  Colby spent Saturday morning at the clinic. Things were busy, and she didn’t see her last patient until after two o’clock that afternoon. She’d called Granger’s Tow Service and asked them to pick up her truck and take it to the shop to have the starter repaired. They’d done so, and someone dropped it back off shortly after noon.

  On Sunday, she and Lena went to church, a weekly ritual. Growing up, Colby had been part of the youth group of Keeling Creek First Baptist, going on retreats to other churches and summer bus trips to Busch Gardens in Williamsburg. Now, Lena did those same things in the kind of small, close-knit church where everyone knew everyone else, and a sense of family existed among the members.

  They sat in the second row with Colby’s parents, both of whom were actively involved in the church’s social life, organizing such events as summer Bible school and monthly breakfasts in the fellowship hall where the men cooked for the women. They were good people with strong roots in the community, well liked and respected. The only rough points in her relationship with them had come when she’d tried to get through school with Lena. They wanted to help, and out of guilt or pride, she had been determined to do as much as she could on her own. They had let her flounder even though, as a parent herself, she knew it hurt them to do so.

  After the services, she lingered at the door with her mother while her father and Lena chatted with the preacher. The sight of her purple-haired daughter nestled in the crook of her grandfather’s arm warmed Colby inside, and at the same time, brought forth a surge of regret for the closeness with Lena she seemed to have lost.

  “Things aren’t any better with you two, I take it?” Emma Williams asked, placing a sympathetic hand on Colby’s arm.

  She turned her gaze back to her mother. “I’ve tried to talk to her, but she won’t open up. I keep telling myself it will blow over.”

  “More than likely it will. You had a rebellious streak of your own, you know,” Emma said with a smile.

  “I remember,” Colby confessed. “I don’t think it ever really affected my relationship with you or Daddy.”

  “No. Thankfully, it didn’t,” she admitted. “But all children are different.”

  Colby shook her head. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’m doing something wrong, if maybe I’m just not a very good mom.”

  “Now you stop that, dear,” her mother admonished her. “You’re a wonderful mom. You know how proud your father and I are of you for the way you’ve handled things.”

  “Thank you, Mama,” Colby said, somehow needing to hear the words today.

  She squeezed Colby’s shoulder. “You had to become responsible at a very young age,” she said, her voice softening. “And you didn’t take the easy way out. You made a life for yourself and that child. I know there were times when you must have wondered what it would be like not to have all that responsibility. To be free to do as you wanted.”

  Colby gave her mother a grateful smile. “You know I’d never have done it without you and Dad.”

  “Oh, yes, you would have. I know you well enough to be sure of that,” she said with pride in her voice. “Maybe Lena could spend the afternoon with us. You go be good to yourself.”

  Colby sent a glance at her daughter, laughing now at something the pastor had said. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

  Her father and Lena waved goodbye to the preacher and joined them across the lawn. “What do you say I treat my three favorite ladies at Libbie’s for lunch?” her father said.

  Lena’s relaxed demeanor disappeared behind the sullen facade she’d been wearing for the past few weeks. As much as Colby would have liked to go, it would be good for Lena to spend some time alone with her grandparents. “You three go on. I’ve got some things to do at home, Daddy.”

  “You sure, honey?”

  She nodded and smiled her most convincing smile.

  “All right, then. We’ll bring the punkin’ home later,” he said, ruffling Lena’s hair.

  “We’ll have her there by dinner,” her mother promised.

  “Have a good time, honey.” Colby waved as the three of them headed to her parents’ car. But Lena didn’t answer. She merely tucked herself closer in the curve of her grandfather’s arm while Colby watched them drive away, a dull ache deep inside her.

  BACK AT THE HOUSE, Colby straightened up, then put in a load of laundry. She rarely went to the clinic on Sunday unless there were dogs or cats in the hospital, since the part-time help came in to feed the animals on the weekend.

  After turning on the washing machine, she made her way into the kitchen and stared at the items lining the pantry shelves. Macaroni. Tomato soup. Black olives. Fat-free cookies.

  Critter sidled against the back of her legs, letting out a soft meow.

  Colby looked down at her and sighed. “I know. Kind of lonely around here, isn’t it?”

  Critter answered with another meow.

  She reached down and picked her up, tucking the kitty under her chin. The cat purred like a lawn mower. Petey and Lulu lay under the kitchen table, looking across at her with sleepy eyes. “I guess in a few years, it’ll be just the four of us, huh?”

  Petey groaned in protest and rolled over on his back, his paws in the air.

  “I know how you feel.” She considered her own question for a moment. In the past, she hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on what things would be like after Lena grew up and left home. She’d meant it when she’d told Phoebe that she was happy with the way things were. She had a full life. She didn’t need a man to make it complete.

  But would the house always be this quiet once Lena moved away?

  She thought about Ian McKinley and wondered if he felt the same way about his son leaving home. But then, a man like that probably had enough female companionship to ensure that he never got lonely.

  She was being silly. Lena wouldn’t be going to college for another two years. A very long time away.

  The phone rang, mercifully diverting Colby’s thoughts. She picked up the receiver with her free hand and managed a hello as the cat swatted it with her paw.

  “I want all the details. Every single one,” Phoebe demanded, not bothering with a greeting.

  “You’re just now getting around to it?” Colby asked in mock surprise.

  “Frank’s mother’s been here. I’ve barely had time to go to the bathroom! Well?”

  “Well, nothing. If I were smart, I’d disown you as a friend.”

  “You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Phoebe cajoled.

  “I should be.”

  “I’ll admit that, but can’t you just give me the down-low anyway?”

  “You’re impossible.” Colby never stayed upset at Phoebe for long. Not even in the fifth grade, when she told Ricky Peters that Colby stuffed her bra. “Besides, he’s only going to be here for a year. You forgot to figure that into your perfect-for-Colby equation.”

  “A year!” Phoebe said, disbelieving. “Maybe you could change his mind,” she added, rallying. “So, what happened after you left here?”

  “He watched me deliver twin calves and then took me home,” she said, leaving out the part about the mud bath. Even now, the thought of it made her smile.

  “That’s all?” Phoebe asked, her disappointment evident.

  “That’s all,” she said, unwilling to give her friend more bait than that.

  “You’ve been out of commission for too long—” Phoebe broke off and shouted her son’s name. “Oh, shoot, Colby. I’ll have to call you back. Jacob’s hanging by his knees on top of the swing set. Gotta run.”

  Colby hung up, glad to be spared Phoebe’s inquisition. Throughout the church service that morning, her thoughts kept returning to Friday night. Despite still being miffed by Phoebe’s meddling, she had to admit the night had been full of surprises. Ian had certainly been more than gracious about the whole thing, considering that he’d been set up and all but forced into driving her out to Pasley’s when her truck broke down. On t
op of that, he’d ended up ruining what must been some very expensive clothes. She could bake him a pie as a thank-you. She enjoyed baking when she had the time, derived a certain pleasure in creating something from scratch. Over the years, she’d gotten pretty good at it.

  Imagining the gleeful look on Phoebe’s face if she found out, she almost nixed the idea. But deciding she would go crazy without occupying her mind and hands with something, she went to the pantry and began pulling flour and sugar from the shelves. From the back porch, she retrieved some of the Red Delicious apples she’d bought yesterday afternoon, and for the next hour, she got busy putting together two homemade pies. While they baked, she sat at the table and leafed through the newspaper, asking herself what was wrong with doing a little something for someone who’d done her a favor. Didn’t good neighbors do that?

  15

  Colby took the left-hand turnoff onto the road that led to Oak Hill. The driveway stretched ahead for a mile or more, lined with enormous oak trees, most of which were nearly a hundred years old.

  Oak Hill had always been one of her favorite places. Once one of Virginia’s most prosperous farms—tobacco and wheat its mainstays—it became a well-known horse farm in the mid-1950s. In the past twenty years, the place went downhill, since the house sat empty for so long. She could hardly resent Ian for beating her to it, but nevertheless, she wished he hadn’t.

  She stopped in the circular driveway behind a car with New York license plates. He had company. Maybe she should forget delivering the pie. She didn’t want to interrupt. But it would be silly not to leave it now that she was already here. She and Lena wouldn’t be able to eat two pies, even if they were Lena’s favorite.

  She knocked, then stepped back, holding the dish in front of her.

  The large oak door opened, and a tall, very beautiful woman stood in the entryway. Dressed in navy pants and a white silk blouse that somehow managed to look elegant and casual all at the same time, she smiled, her expression expectant. “May I help you with something?”

  Colby glanced down at the pie, suddenly too conscious of her own khakis and UVA sweatshirt “I just wanted to leave this for the McKinleys.”

  The woman stared at her for a moment, before smiling again and extending her right hand. “How nice. I’m Rachel Montgomery. Ian’s fiancée.”

  “Oh!” Colby shifted the pie to her left hand, returning the woman’s firm handshake, noticing that the proffered hand felt smooth and manicured against her own work-roughened skin and short, unpolished nails. She took another step back. “I’m Colby Williams.”

  “Ian says the people here are very nice. It seems he was right.”

  “My truck broke down the other night, and he helped me out. This is just a little thank-you. I hope you all enjoy it.”

  “Would you like to speak to Ian?” Rachel asked. “He’s in the shower, but he should be out anytime.”

  Colby backed down the steps, raising a hand and wishing she could grab the darn pie and run without Ian ever knowing she’d been here. “No. Really. That’s all right. Nice to meet you, Miss Montgomery.”

  A mile or so down the road, Colby pulled over and glanced in the rearview mirror, her face flushed and hot with embarrassment. Way to go, Williams. Why had she ever given in to the impulse to do such a stupid thing?

  She sat back in the seat, feeling more than a little foolish. It wasn’t at all like her to have gone to Ian’s home. She, the same woman who told Phoebe she wouldn’t do the song and dance that came with the dating scene.

  And yet, she’d baked the man a pie.

  A pie, of all things! A pie she had ended up presenting to the man’s fiancée.

  Anger with Ian edged its way past her own embarrassment. He’d sat through dinner at Phoebe’s and never bothered to say he was engaged. And what about the rest of the evening? He’d had more than ample opportunity to do so. But he hadn’t.

  And Phoebe. Her own best friend, who supposedly had her best interests at heart. Phoebe, who neglected to mention that one small but critical detail about Ian McKinley.

  16

  “I didn’t know. I swear.”

  “How could you not have known?” Colby asked in disbelief.

  “Mabel never mentioned it when I called her to ask if she thought he would like to come to dinner. I even told her that you would be there and that I wanted to introduce you two.”

  “Don’t tell me she’s in on this, too!”

  “She said she’d been hoping you two would get a chance to meet. How could I know he was engaged?” Phoebe wailed. “What was I supposed to do? Ask for a full personal history before inviting him to dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Next time, I will.”

  “There won’t be a next time.”

  They were sitting in the wooden swing attached to two old maples in Phoebe’s backyard, the day Indian-summer warm. The shade surrounding them did little to cool the heat in Colby’s cheeks.

  “I can’t believe he’s engaged,” Phoebe said, still looking shell-shocked.

  “Believe it. I met her. What more proof do you want?”

  “Well, he never said anything about—”

  “No, he didn’t. He probably thought it was some grand joke. And no doubt still laughing about it.”

  “Oh, Colby, I don’t think so. He seems like a nice guy—”

  “Then how do you explain his not bothering to mention having a fiancée?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Colby dropped her head back against the swing and stared up at the cloudless sky. “I can’t believe I actually made him a pie. What is it about attractive men that turns normally intelligent women into noodle brains?”

  “Now, Colby, that was a perfectly nice gesture. If I’d thought of it, I would have suggested it myself.”

  Colby sent Phoebe a look out of the corner of her eye. “And that’s supposed to make it intelligent?”

  “Legitimate. It makes it legitimate.”

  “Right. I’m giving you fair warning, Phoebs. No more setups. That’s the last one. My life is complicated enough now.”

  Phoebe let out a long-suffering sigh and gave the swing a push. They swung in silence for a few minutes before she said, “Everybody has complications, Colby. Including me. I think Frank’s having a midlife crisis.”

  Colby looked up, surprised. “He’s not old enough to have a midlife crisis.”

  “How old do you have to be? I’ve known the man since I was fifteen. He’s never had an ounce of interest in clothes, and all of a sudden, he goes out and buys two new suits. Armani suits. Do you know how many mortgage payments you can make on two Armani suits?”

  Colby had to admit it didn’t sound like Frank. She’d known him almost as long as Phoebe, and he’d never shown a penchant for high fashion. “Maybe he’s trying to impress you.”

  “Impress me? He came downstairs wearing one of the darn things Friday morning and was almost. . .I don’t know, embarrassed, when I questioned him about it.”

  “I wouldn’t make too much of it, Phoebe. It’s probably just a phase.”

  Phoebe chewed her lower lip. “A phase is what teenagers go through. Adult men don’t have phases.”

  “Says who?”

  “Dr. Green. That lady psychologist who’s on the radio every morning.”

  “You called her?” Colby asked, staring at her friend in disbelief.

  “After Frank left Friday. I call her a lot,” she said a little defensively. “She’s very smart. She said there’s always a reason for the things people do. A change in behavior means something is different.”

  “Oh, Phoebe, for heaven’s sake. The man bought a couple of new suits. You’ll let this woman convince you he’s having an affair. Frank, of all people.”

  “Why not Frank of all people?” Phoebe asked, sounding offended.

  “Because you’ve been together since Adam and Eve. And besides that, he’s nuts about you.”

  Phoebe slumped back in the swing. “Used t
o be nuts about me. He’s been so distracted lately, we’ve done nothing but sleep in the same bed.”

  Getting the point, Colby said, “The two of you need to talk.”

  “I’ve tried. He thinks I’m being silly.”

  Colby didn’t know what to say. For as long as she could remember, Phoebe had been the one with the rock-solid relationship. The thought that it might not be as stable as she’d assumed was unthinkable. But then, maybe lasting relationships really weren’t possible for people of her generation.

  Colby stopped the swing with her foot and got up, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets. “I’m going home, Phoebs. Go inside and seduce your husband. You probably just need some time alone together. Since the kids are at your mom’s house, you have the perfect opportunity.” She headed across the yard, waving over her shoulder.

  “Hey, Colby.”

  She turned around just short of the truck. “Yeah?”

  “He’ll come along.”

  “Who?”

  “The good guy you’ve been waiting for.”

  Colby rolled her eyes. “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

  “I’m still not convinced it isn’t Ian McKinley,” Phoebe said, ignoring her. “Engaged isn’t married, after all.”

  Deceit was deceit, though, Colby told herself as she drove away.

  It was really none of her business whether he was engaged or not. So why did she feel angry with him for not mentioning it? And why, beneath the anger, did she feel this ridiculous sense of hurt?

  Maybe because she actually let her guard down for a little while Friday night. Something she didn’t do very often.

  Back on the main road, she told herself to forget about it. She certainly had better things to do with her time than stew over an unavailable guy who had trouble with the truth.

  COLBY’S FATHER DROPPED LENA off just before six that night. Colby met them outside. Lena gave her grandfather a hug and then went inside the house without so much as a hello. Trying to keep the hurt from her expression, Colby said, “How about some dinner, Dad?”