by Judy Baer
“Then this is pointless, isn’t it?” I looked longingly at his arms, wishing they were around me again.
“I don’t like it this way, Norah, but I don’t know what to do. I’ll never share your passion for animals. You’ll never understand the hurdles I’ve had to jump just to stay in the same room with a dog, even in a kennel.”
“Miracles happen, sometimes, don’t they?”
“They usually have to do with things like walking on water and healing the sick, not helping people getting over phobias about dogs.”
“But it could happen,” I persisted.
“I don’t know that it’s something I could even pray for, Norah.”
“So whatever we have is over before it begins?”
“Unless you can figure out what to do about it.”
He said it with the finality of a slamming door. I knew what he meant. Unless you are willing to give up Bentley.
When I returned home, I sat on the sofa scratching Bentley’s ears.
Even though Nick couldn’t pray for an answer to this and likely thought it too trivial to bring before God, I will. He wants to be in relationship and fellowship with us, His children. Certainly He’ll be interested in what I have to say about a man and a dog.
Chapter Thirty-Four
After the evening at Nick’s house, Bentley and I holed up in my bedroom for two days drowning my frustrations in prayer and food. The prayer part was smart. The food? Not such a good idea.
“Bentley,” I said, “what am I going to do? You don’t want to be the one to stand between Nick and me, do you?”
I’m pretty sure he shook his head in the negative, but without corroboration, no one would believe it anyway.
He’s made so much progress lately—sailing by those hydrants and all—that I feel as though we’re on the edge of a breakthrough. Or maybe it’s a breakdown, considering I’m thinking all this about a dog.
Besides, it’s not just about Bentley. It’s any puppy I bring into the store. My passion is Nick’s aversion. That sums it up pretty well and leaves Nick as accessible to me as Joe is now.
I’ve seen him and Lilly together every day and they are both smiling more than I’ve seen them do in many weeks. We’ve been walking a tightrope without a net. At least now Lilly and Joe have something to hang on to—each other.
Before I could start to feel sorry for myself, a gigantic burp echoed through the room, followed by a series of intestinal noises one might hear in one’s own stomach during a bad bout with the flu. Then the gassy, growling sounds became a dreadful smoker’s cough accompanied by hacking and spitting. The concert ended with a wild, maniacal cackling laughter that would have been great in a horror movie.
Winky.
I moved to his perch and stroked his feathers. “You’re bored, aren’t you, big boy? After all the fun you had in the shop, my house is a drag. Now that we know that Bryce didn’t pull your feathers, I suppose you could go back to the shop—if you’d only shape up.”
Winky responded with a guttural mumble and a phrase or two that shouldn’t be said in good company.
When he’d arrived on the doorstep of Norah’s Ark, I almost hadn’t accepted him because of his colorful language. But it wasn’t his fault. His previous owners had tried their best to ruin the appeal of this smart, beautiful bird and I couldn’t let them win. But now, since he’d been out of the shop and alone except for Asia and Bentley for most of the day, he was dredging up more and more of his unappealing behavior. He’d also begun to repeat my side of every phone conversation and tormenting the dog by telling Bentley to “lie down” every time the dog moved. I hadn’t realized it was happening until one day I heard Winky give the order and Bentley drop flat on his way to his dog dish. It certainly explained why Bentley had started waiting for me to get home to eat his food and drink his water.
I stroked his feathers and tickled his armpit—or is it wing pit? “What am I going to do with you? And quit making those smooching noises. You aren’t going to romance me out of thinking about this.”
Ironically, the one sound Winky can’t duplicate is the sound of bells.
“It doesn’t matter. When I meet the right man, I’ll hear bells, I just know it.” But I said it without conviction.
Then, at that moment, a bell did start to chime—my doorbell.
It was Connor.
I invited him in and Winky greeted Connor with an enthusiasm I hadn’t seen in a while.
“Hello, big boy. Awwwk. Aren’t you handsome? Awwwk. You make my heart sing.” And then he shyly tucked his beak in his armpit as if he’d said too much.
“Looks like you have a fan.”
“Rather perfect, isn’t it? Traditionally, pirates had parrots as pets. He must be able to smell the saltwater in my veins.”
“Why do you think parrots and pirates have always been paired together like that?”
“I’m sure the pirates discovered parrots on islands in the Caribbean.”
“And the parrots would have been relatively tame considering that they hadn’t experienced man as dangerous.”
“Imagine if you’d found a bird who could mimic your voice,” Connor pointed out. “It would be irresistible to tame it and keep it as a pet.”
I studied the two of them. Connor stroked Winky’s head and Winky leaned into it much like Bentley moves closer when I’m petting him. It was quite charming.
“What brings you over?” I finally asked.
“I heard about Lilly and Joe.”
“Yes, well, so it goes.”
“Are you okay? I know you were fond of him.”
“I’m okay. Ironic, isn’t it? I thought you and Lilly would make a perfect couple. Obviously I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“And I thought you and I would be that ideal pair.” His gaze skimmed my face. “With time, I still believe it would have happened.”
“‘With time?’ I don’t understand.”
“I’m leaving Shoreside. I have another business opportunity in Hawaii. One of the reasons I returned to Shoreside was because I thought that prospect had dried up. Now, it appears, we have the chance to develop a commercial business ferrying people between the islands. It will, of course, require that I run the operation for some time to come. I’m leaving the end of this week.”
Just like that? The bonanza of eligible men in Shoreside had peaked and bottomed out in what seemed like a nanosecond.
“I’m sorry, Connor.” I truly was. If it hadn’t been for the trouble with Lilly, Connor and I would have become, if not an item, at least good friends.
He gave me that devastating smile of his. “I still think that you and I could have been a great couple, Norah. Unfortunately, long-distance relationships don’t work like face-to-face ones.” He rested the palm of his hand on my cheek. “But never say never.”
Just then Winky spoke up. “Winky wants a cracker.”
Connor turned to study the bird. “You know, I’ve heard you say in the past that you’d like to sell Winky. Is that still true?”
“Why, yes, I suppose so. He needs a place that has lots of action, though. When he’s entertained his language is much improved. He hasn’t been happy here with us. Frankly, I think he considers Asia Mynah a dimwit.”
“How would he like to be first mate on a ferry that travels between the Hawaiian islands? He’d be treated like a king and there would be plenty of activity.” Connor studied the bird. “In fact, I might just name one of the ferries The Winky. I can see people wanting to ride that particular ferry just because of him. He’d be good for business and I’d be good to him.” Connor was now talking more to himself than to me. “We’re going to develop a new logo. Maybe there’s a way to work him in…he’d be great for television and print commercials….”
Winky, a television star with his own line of ferries? A tourist attraction? A parrot with his own personal buccaneer? And that buccaneer would be Connor!
Connor turned to me with a light sparkling
in his eyes. “If you would consider selling him to me, Norah, I’d make him the most famous parrot in the Pacific Ocean. I’d even hire a bird specialist to take care of him, if necessary. And I’ll pay whatever you want.”
His expression softened. “And, even though I’m in Hawaii and you are here, I’ll feel like a little bit of you is there with me when I have Winky.”
Awwwwwww.
The decision, even though I will miss Winky desperately, was easy to make.
“He’s yours.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’d hang on to every animal that comes through my shop if I could. And I’ve been known to refuse to sell a pet to someone I don’t think has the patience or disposition to treat an animal well. But I know how movie stars are treated. How could I say no to letting my ham actor Winky go on the stage?”
“I’ll send you updates on him and, once we’re up and running, newspaper clippings. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be on Leno one day?”
“As his mother, it would make me very proud.”
When Connor and I parted, he left knowing that he would always have a little piece of my heart.
Three down, none to go.
That pretty much sums up the eligible male population on Pond Street. To my surprise, I find it exceedingly troubling.
I, independent, self-sufficient Norah Kent, am lonesome.
Chapter Thirty-Five
BENTLEY: PLAY NORAH, PLAY!
NORAH: I don’t know what’s gotten into that dog lately. He’s pestering me all the time to play with him. Ease up, Bentley. I don’t feel like playing.
BENTLEY: SCRATCH ME, SCRATCH ME.
NORAH: Maybe I should get him some flea powder. He’s begging to be scratched all the time and it’s driving me crazy. My energy is really low these days.
BENTLEY: TOSS THE BALL!
NORAH: He keeps following me around with a soggy old tennis ball in his mouth. What’s gotten into him?
BENTLEY: What’s gotten into her?
NORAH: I don’t know what I’m going to do about you, Bentley.
BENTLEY: I know exactly what I’m going to do about you, Norah.
I put a pillow over my head but even that didn’t smother Bentley’s caterwauling by the front door. How a dog can howl and hold a Deputy Dawg leash in his mouth at the same time is beyond me. Maybe he, instead of Winky, should be on television. Finally, I rolled off my bed and stomped through the house.
“Okay, already! I’ll take you for a walk. Since when did you start liking walks anyway?”
Ever since Joe and Connor stopped coming to the house, Bentley has been a dog on a mission. What mission, I have no idea, but he’s been a royal pest, wanting to go outside, pulling me up and down Pond Street past fire hydrants and everything. He doesn’t pay much attention to Lilly or Auntie Lou, but he is fascinated with Silas. Every time we walk past Auntie Lou’s Antiques, Bentley wants to go inside and stick his cold nose into Silas’s sleeping face. It’s almost as if he’s using it as a test, just to see how far he can go before he chickens out and turns tail and runs from the cat.
Ironically, the tables have turned where Lou and I are concerned and she’s worrying about me now.
“You haven’t been yourself lately, Norah. Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine, but thanks for asking.” Fine, but lonesome.
“You’d tell me if something were wrong? You wouldn’t try to handle it on your own?”
“I know you are here for me, Lou.” Besides, there’s nothing for anyone to handle. Joe and Lilly are happy, Connor is off having fun with Winky, and Nick hates dogs and that’s that.
The other one Bentley has become fascinated with is Sarge. He doesn’t dare get too near the big horse, but every time we see Sarge, Bentley takes one step closer to him than he did the time before. At this rate, Bentley and Sarge will be best buddies by the year 2010.
Today, however, Sarge was nowhere in sight and Nick was giving out traffic tickets as if he was in a no-parking zone filled with cars. The violators were a little young to be written up however. None of them had a driver’s license although several did have training wheels on their vehicles.
Nick was surrounded by a gaggle of kids on bikes watching him write up a ticket for a little girl in pink overalls, frilly white blouse and scuffed tennis shoes. The child was wide-eyed beneath her pink-and-white bike helmet.
With a flourish, Nick whipped the ticket from his book and handed it to her. She looked up at him in amazement, put her feet to the pedals and nearly ran over his foot in her getaway. A moment later another child did run over Nick’s foot jockeying himself into position for the next ticket.
Bentley and I watched the proceedings until the crowd subsided. When Auntie Lou came out of her store to sit in the sun, I gave her Bentley’s leash and sauntered over to find out what was going on.
“They’re a little young for traffic tickets, don’t you think?”
He looked up and grinned. “Not this kind.” He pulled one off the official-looking pad and handed it to me.
To whom it may concern: ________________(name)
Was pulled over on ________________ (date)
No wrongdoing was observed. However, because ____________________(name) was in possession of and wearing a bicycle helmet while riding, they are cited for good behavior. This ticket may be exchanged at the drug store or ice-cream truck for one free treat of choice. Receiving this ticket does not preclude you from receiving another if caught again using a bike helmet while riding.
Officer Nick and the Shoreside Police Department
“Cute. Whose idea was that?”
“Yours, actually.”
“Really? I must be losing my memory. I can’t recall coming up with it.”
“I’ve heard so many times about your adoption ceremony for pets purchased at Norah’s Ark, that I thought I’d try something similar to encourage children to wear their bike helmets. Shoreside is busy in the summer months. A child without a helmet could be in real danger.”
“So you came up with reverse ticketing. Great idea.”
Nick looked at his watch. “I’m off duty as of ten minutes ago. I could write us tickets for sodas, too, you know.”
“Graft and corruption in the police department!” I chided. “But I’ll come if you promise to pay your way.”
“Deal. Just a minute. I have to…”
He stopped abruptly and his eyes widened. Before I knew what was happening, Bentley broke away from Auntie Lou, ran past a fire hydrant and across the street to Nick.
Bentley simply does not do these things. Fire hydrants and streets? Uh-uh, no way. And yet here he was, flinging himself against Nick’s well-polished shoes.
Fortunately Nick didn’t go for a billy club when Bentley made his move. Instead he froze in place. Then Bentley fell at Nick’s feet and rolled over. Panting and wearing a stupid doggie grin, Bent rolled onto his back, exposed his vulnerable belly and begged to be scratched.
“What’s he doing, Norah?” Nick asked through gritted teeth. He’d lost some of his color, but he, too, was acting against type by not moving away from Bentley.
“It’s his submissive pose. Animals don’t offer you their exposed, defenseless undersides unless they trust you. He’s asking you to rub his tummy.”
“But I don’t trust him.” Nick was doing a remarkable job of remaining calm.
“I think he’s trying to make the first move. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before now.” Bentley’s behavior bordered on the miraculous.
“Get him away from me.” Nick’s face was now growing pink.
“Sure, if you want me to. But couldn’t you just give him one little scratch?”
“Norah…”
At that moment a little girl named Chrissy, the daughter of one of the hair stylists at Belles & Beaus dashed between us, dropped to her knees and started rubbing Bentley’s tummy.
“Hi, Bentley,” the little girl said. “You’re such a good doggy. When are you
going to come and visit me?” Chrissy often comes to Norah’s Ark to look at the animals and spends a good deal of time on the floor with Bentley.
Nick reached out as if to protect the child but drew his hand away when he realized that there was no protection needed.
“Have you scratched him, Officer Nick?” Chrissy inquired sweetly. “He’s so soft. Feel.”
Chrissy pulled on Nick’s hand and reluctantly Nick knelt beside the little girl. She tugged his hand to Bentley’s round belly. “See?”
In all the years I’ve worked with animals, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It was as if Bentley knew that there was someone even more frightened and timid than he. As Nick, under Chrissy’s firm direction, touched Bentley’s fur, Bentley licked Nick’s wrist.
“He likes you!” Chrissy crowed. “Isn’t he sweet?”
“Yeah, sweet.” But Nick didn’t pull back. Instead he moved his hand to tentatively scratch Bentley’s neck. Bentley squirmed with pleasure.
Chrissy jumped to her feet and ran off when her mother called from the front steps of Belles & Beaus, leaving the three of us in an odd little tableau on the sidewalk.
“Do you want us to leave?” I asked, even though Nick hadn’t quit scratching the dog and Bentley was transfixed.
Nick unfolded his legs, still keeping an eye on the prone animal at his feet. “I…I don’t know.”
“Come on, Bent. Come.” I tugged at the leash but he wouldn’t move. “Now!” Bentley looked as apt to move as a piece of the sidewalk.
“Come on, boy,” Nick ventured.
And Bentley leaped to his feet, wagging his tail and drooling on Nick’s shoes.
“Want to walk with us?” I offered.
I could tell that Nick was as baffled as me at Bentley’s behavior.
“Just a few steps.”
I started out but Bentley held back, waiting to see if Nick was coming. When he dragged his furry little feet, I impulsively handed the hot-pink leash over to Nick.
I have got to get this dog a more manly leash!
