The Summer of New Beginnings: A Magnolia Grove Novel

by Bette Lee Crosby

Meghan gave a sheepish grin. “Afraid not. It’s just that I feel very protective of this dog. He reminds me of Clancy.”

  Tracy scrunched her nose and frowned. “He doesn’t look at all like Clancy.”

  “It’s not the way he looks,” Meghan replied. “It’s something more. I think what happened back at the lake created a bond between us and—”

  “What actually happened at the lake?”

  Meghan recounted how she’d seen the dog and gone in after it. When she told of the blinding raindrops and the desperation she’d felt, fearing she wasn’t going to make it back to the shore, Tracy’s face went white.

  “Good Lord, Meghan, you could have been killed!”

  “But I wasn’t, which leads me to believe I was there because fate wanted me there to rescue Sox.”

  “Are you serious?” Tracy rolled her eyes and gave an exasperated huff. “You’ve spent too much time writing stories. Now you’re starting to believe them.”

  “That’s not true. Those things have nothing to do with each other. Fate isn’t controlled by wishes. It just is what it is, and it happens whether you want it to or not.”

  Tracy twitched her mouth to the side with a look of skepticism. “What if the dog was fated to drown, and you interfered by saving him? Isn’t that the same as controlling fate?”

  Meghan hesitated a moment. She didn’t have a comeback. The only thing she could do was tell what was in her heart.

  “Think whatever you want,” she said, “but I know I was meant to save this dog. I know it, and I believe he knows it, too. We were as good as dead, and then when I opened my eyes we were on the shore. He was right there beside me, just as Clancy would have been, and I could see the gratitude on his face.”

  “Gratitude on his face?” Tracy repeated laughingly.

  She didn’t necessarily believe such a thing possible, yet she had to admit there was a certain something about the way the dog stayed alongside Meghan. He didn’t wander or go sniffing around the kitchen the way she’d expect a stray to do.

  “So I guess you’re planning to keep him,” she said.

  “I’d like to, but . . . ” Meghan gave a soulful sigh.

  The thought of giving up the dog felt like a sharp-edged rock dropped into her chest, but remembering the heartbreak she’d felt when Clancy disappeared, she knew it was something she had to do. She squatted and affectionately rubbed the spot behind his ears.

  “You understand, don’t you, Sox? I have to try to find your owner, because they probably love you the way I loved Clancy.”

  Looking up at Tracy, Meghan said, “Tomorrow I’ll take a picture of him and run a found-dog ad in the Snip ’N’ Save. Everybody in town reads it.”

  “And if no one claims him?” Tracy replied.

  A smile slid across Meghan’s face. “Then he was meant to be mine.”

  The dog shimmied up against her leg, and she continued to rub his ears.

  Tracy laughed again. “I think he’s already yours.”

  Something New

  By the time Lila came downstairs with Lucas, Tracy had disappeared back into the Snip ’N’ Save office to print out the information she’d found on the computer. The kitchen floor was wiped clean, and Meghan had changed into dry clothes. She’d also rinsed Sox’s paws, so they looked whiter than ever.

  Lucas toddled in and saw her on the floor combing tangles from Sox’s fur. He stopped, stood looking wide-eyed at the dog, and raised an arm almost as if he were going to reach out. Then, for some unknown reason, he turned back to Lila, grabbed her leg, and buried his face in the fabric of her slacks.

  With a nod toward Sox, Lila asked, “Where did that dog come from?”

  “I rescued him.”

  “Rescued?”

  Meghan nodded. “I was down at the lake and spotted him out in the middle of the water. He was just about to go under when I swam out and pulled him in.”

  She didn’t mention the danger of the storm. Her mama had a dozen different superstitions, and the thought of such a storm being in one place and not the other would surely incite a prediction of misfortune.

  Lucas again glanced at the dog, then shrieked and turned back to Lila.

  “Aw, don’t be afraid, sweetie. Grandma won’t let that doggy bother you.” Lila squatted, scooped Lucas into her arms, then glared at Meghan. “I hope you’re not planning to keep him.”

  Meghan shrugged. “Well . . . ”

  “What about Beulah?” Lila’s cat was fourteen years old and moved through the house like a shadow, but still it seemed unlikely she’d welcome a newcomer.

  “Mama, I doubt this one little dog is going to upset Beulah. Besides, Sox may already have an owner. If not, then I’d like to at least consider—”

  “Absolutely not,” Lila cut in, using a rather brusque tone.

  “Why?”

  “Well, for one thing, Lucas is frightened of him.”

  “He’s not really frightened. It’s just that the dog is something new. Put him down, and let’s see what he does.”

  An apprehensive expression settled on Lila’s face, and she stood for a few moments before lowering Lucas to the floor. Meghan cradled Sox in her lap and told him to lie down. When he lowered his head onto her thigh, she called to Lucas.

  “Do you want to play with the puppy?” she asked in a soft voice. “Sox is a good doggy. See how sweet he is? He likes babies. See? Gentle, gentle.”

  Meghan stroked the underside of the dog’s neck with a tender touch, and he lolled his head to one side to make room for more. Still using that same singsong voice, she held out her other hand, motioning for Lucas to come closer.

  “Come play with the puppy,” she said.

  Lucas didn’t budge. He remained in the same spot, looking as bewildered as an old man who’d come to fetch something and then forgotten what. After a few minutes, he turned back to Lila with his arms upstretched, signaling he wanted to be picked up again.

  “Well, I guess that proves my point.”

  “That’s not fair, Mama. Lucas is probably still a little sleepy from his nap. In a day or two I’m sure—”

  “Never mind a day or two. Take the dog to a shelter, and let them find a home for him.”

  “But Mama—”

  “This is not a subject open for discussion! I will not have my grandchild scared out of his wits because of some stray you’ve brought home.”

  Moments later, Tracy came from the office. Lila handed Lucas to his mama and turned toward the door. She looked back, gave an ominous nod toward Meghan, and said, “Do it today.”

  Lucas’s eyes followed Lila as she left the room, then he gave a quick glance down at the dog and turned back to Tracy. It was a glance, nothing more; no look of either fear or fondness. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and started picking at the button on his shirt.

  Sensing something was askew, Tracy asked, “What’s wrong with Mama?”

  Instead of answering, Meghan shrugged. It was a movement that was barely discernible. She hiked her shoulders a fraction of an inch, then lowered them. Someone else might not have noticed the despondency in Meghan’s action, but Tracy did. She understood the feeling of helplessness.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said. “Tell me, or I’ll keep nagging you.”

  “It’s nothing. Really. Nothing.”

  With Lucas still in her arms, Tracy crossed over and squatted beside Meghan. “I don’t believe you. I know how Mama can be, and I bet she said something.”

  There was no way Meghan could add guilt to Tracy’s worries. “It was just stuff about the Snip ’N’ Save. Nothing important. Really.”

  Tracy lowered herself into a sitting position and lifted Lucas into her lap. “Well, now that I’m back, maybe I could help with some of the work. I know it’s been a lot for you, and it’s unfair—”

  “Don’t give it a second thought,” Meghan said. “Mama was just making a mountain out of a molehill. By tomorrow the whole thing will have blown over, and she’ll move on to
fussing about something else.”

  Both girls laughed, and the conversation segued to what Tracy had found on the computer. Once she began talking about what rights Dominic might or might not have, Tracy ignored the way Lucas was listing to the right and reaching out for the dog.

  Lucas didn’t say words. He didn’t even make definitive sounds, not one thing for yes and another for no. His only sounds were just that: sounds. Grunts and squeals with no meaning or consistency.

  It wasn’t because there had been a lack of effort on Tracy’s part. She tried to teach him to talk, to say mama, dada, or even the dreaded no. In the evenings when Dominic was tending bar, she had sat with Lucas, repeating ma-ma and emphasizing each syllable until it echoed in her ears like the bleat of a lost lamb. She stuck to the easy words, hoping he would show a tiny bit of progress. Still there was no attempt to mimic her sounds.

  For a while Lucas would be relatively content with the attention. Then his eyes would wander, and he’d gaze off into space. When that happened, she gently turned his face back to her and continued repeating the word over and over again. Now she’d grown accustomed to hearing the strange sounds and paid them little attention.

  With no one pulling him back, Lucas wriggled forward until he finally plopped facedown on the dog’s back. He laughed, then stretched his tiny arms around the furry body. Sox wagged his tail, and it thumped against the floor.

  “Good grief, will you look at that!” Meghan said.

  Tracy glanced around the room. “Look at what?”

  “Lucas. I think he likes Sox.”

  Tracy chuckled. “Most kids like dogs. Hardly a groundbreaking observation.”

  “No, you don’t understand. Mama said I couldn’t keep Sox because Lucas was afraid of him, but now it seems he’s not.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that to start with?”

  Meghan gave another shrug. “Maybe I should have, but I didn’t want to—”

  Tracy cut in. “Let’s make a pact to always tell each other the truth, no matter how painful it may be.”

  Meghan raised an eyebrow. “Always?”

  “Always.”

  They offered one another their pinkie fingers, then linked them in a pinkie swear. Knowing Lila had retreated to the upstairs sewing room, Tracy got up and sprinted into the hallway.

  “Hey, Mama!” she hollered up the stairwell. “Poor little Lucas loves this dog so much we’ve got to keep him.”

  Meghan laughed. “I’d like to believe that’s true, but don’t forget—Sox may already have an owner.”

  Hearing his name, Sox stood, put his front paws on Meghan’s chest, and lapped a wet tongue across her cheek.

  “You’re not making this easy,” Meghan said as she held him close and nuzzled her face to his.

  Meghan

  When Mama gets that stern no-nonsense attitude, you know she’s worried about something. Right now, I believe it’s the memory of Clancy. That memory is almost as painful for her as it is for me. She felt guilty about what happened back then, and I think she still does. Daddy tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault, the lock on the gate was broken, but Mama never quite believed him.

  After Clancy disappeared, she quit making her oatmeal raisin cookies just because they were a reminder of what she was baking that day. I think when Mama looks at this dog, he’s another reminder. She’s afraid I’ll become attached to Sox, then someone will claim him, and I’ll end up as brokenhearted as I was when I lost Clancy. Once you understand Mama’s reasoning, you can’t fault her.

  Loving your children so much that you can’t stand to see them hurt is not a fault.

  Daddy always said we’ve got to be forgiving of Mama, because she means well, but she’s a talker not a listener. He claimed that’s how she got rid of anxieties. When she and Daddy had conversations, she’d sometimes go on and on telling about some inconsequential thing that was troubling her mind. Then when she finished, she’d ask Daddy’s opinion, and he’d say one of his two favorite words: possibly or probably.

  One day, Mama told him he wasn’t giving enough thought to her question, because those two answers were almost the same thing. Daddy said they were totally different. Possibly, he said, meant there was more likelihood of something not happening than happening, but probably meant there was a greater chance of something happening.

  Mama stood there looking at him for a minute or two, then said she really didn’t see all that much of a difference.

  “Possibly not,” he said, and that was the end of the conversation.

  Daddy had plenty of worthwhile thoughts and ideas, but he kept most of them inside his head, the way I keep my thoughts in a journal.

  He understood me in a way no one else did. After Clancy went missing, Mama did everything imaginable to cheer me up: she baked cookies, bought me new sweaters, even painted my room the shade of pink I liked at the time. But the thing she didn’t understand was that nothing could take the place of Clancy.

  Daddy understood; he never tried to do all those special things. Instead he walked alongside me every night as we went up and down the streets calling out for Clancy. I knew some nights Daddy was tired and just wanted to go home, sit in the chair, and read his paper, but he never let on. All those months I was looking for Clancy, he kept looking right alongside me. Daddy doing that made me love him more than you’d imagine possible.

  They say that after a person goes to meet their maker, a part of them stays behind with those they’ve loved. According to legend, the person can be found in things like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, a locket, or even the melody of a song. Finding Sox in the middle of the lake with no one else around makes me wonder if somehow Daddy could have put him there, knowing full well I’d swim out to save him.

  True or not true, it’s what I’d like to believe.

  Remembering Clancy

  Once Lila saw how Lucas took to Sox, she softened her stance on keeping the dog, but only marginally. She still insisted Meghan search for a possible owner before becoming attached to it.

  Still wary of what this could lead to, Lila wanted to keep some distance between her family and the interloper. It wasn’t that she disliked dogs; in fact, when she saw the way Lucas followed the pup around, it gave her a warm fuzzy feeling. That feeling was what she disliked. She knew from experience the heartache having a dog could bring. She still remembered Clancy.

  He had been Meghan’s dog, and there was no doubt about it. Wherever you saw one, you’d see the other. Clancy followed her everywhere. On school days, he’d be sitting on the front porch waiting when she rounded the corner. When she read, he’d be sitting in her lap, and when she studied at the desk, he’d be right there at her feet. Meghan loved that dog the same way she loved her daddy—wholeheartedly and without reservation.

  Lila knew if Meghan became attached to this dog and then someone came to claim him, it would be the Clancy thing all over again. She was determined not to let that happen.

  “How do you plan to go about finding the owner?” she asked.

  “I’m going to place a found-dog ad in the Snip ’N’ Save.” Meghan’s words were flat and without enthusiasm. “Everyone in town reads it, so I’m sure . . . ”

  “I suppose that’s as good a way as any.”

  Lila hesitated for a moment, then remembered how week after week George had called the police station and the ASPCA to see if anyone had found the dog.

  “His name is Clancy,” George would say hopefully. “He’s wearing a blue collar with a tag . . . ”

  “Try the police station and the ASPCA,” Lila suggested. “Ask if anyone has reported a lost or stolen dog.”

  “Okay,” Meghan answered reluctantly.

  The remaining hours of the day passed, and it seemed there was no good time for making those calls. Meghan managed to find things to keep her busy. First she discovered a number of ads that needed to be redesigned, and after that, there were several e-mails to answer. Not surprisingly, she didn’t have
a free moment until it was nearly suppertime, and then she reasoned it was too late for calling.

  When they sat down at the table, Lila asked if she’d made the calls.

  “Not yet,” Meghan answered. “It’s too late for the ASPCA. They’re probably already closed.”

  “Probably?” Lila repeated, noting how Meghan used her daddy’s noncommittal word. “Well, the police station is open twenty-four hours a day. I’m certain you could call them.”

  “Yes, I suppose I could.”

  Meghan promised to do it after supper, but when they finished eating, she jumped up and began clearing the table. When that was done, she polished the counter, watered the ivy on the windowsill, and straightened the mess in the pot-holder drawer. With one thing after another, it was almost ten o’clock before she finally got around to calling the police station.

  Trying to make the question sound as insignificant as possible, she asked, “Did anyone happen to report a missing dog?”

  Officer Brogan said to the best of his knowledge there’d been no such report.

  “Want me to take your number and let you know if one comes in?” he asked.

  “No, thanks,” Meghan replied. “I can call back some other time.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and hung up the receiver. A few minutes later, she headed for her room, and Sox was right at her heels.

  That night Meghan sat at the desk and wrote in her journal. She wrote about the memories of her daddy and her hopes that Clancy had somehow found a good home. In words that were crowded together like the whispers of a secret, she prayed Sox had no owner and would be hers to keep. She reasoned it was good for Lucas and told how he happily trailed the dog from room to room, and she went on to explain how patient Sox was with the baby.

  “I think he understands Lucas is fragile,” she wrote.

  Hours passed, and Meghan continued to write. She penned page after page saying how she’d missed Tracy and how in the future they needed to spend more time together to do the things sisters often did.

  She started to list the things she had in mind, but when it came right down to it, she couldn’t put her finger on one specific activity. She tried imagining the two of them doing the things she enjoyed—sitting by the lake, strolling through the stacks at the library, walking a wooded trail—but remembered that Tracy found those things boring. She tried to imagine them going to a rock concert or racing along the highway in a top-down convertible, and while that would be fine with Tracy, it didn’t work for her.