by Ash Harlow
“Not all of them are,” said Vince.
“So how do you know which ones to gather?” Marlo asked.
“It’s easy; you only pick the wrong ones once.”
When they finished dinner, Lulah had Marlo and Vince move to the living area while she warmed an apple crisp she’d made earlier for dessert. Vince stopped at one glass of wine and now carried a glass of water over to the fireplace where he studied a small picture on the mantle.
“This is you, Lulah.” He held the oil painting of a young girl and her dog.
“Yeah, me and Trilby, my first dog.”
Vince rubbed his finger around the edge of the frame.
“You checking on my housekeeping skills?”
He ignored her, still studying the picture. “You looked like a little imp back then, too,” he said quietly as he placed it back on the mantle. Lulah crossed the room carrying a tray with their dessert and a jug of cream which she set on top of the old trunk that multi-tasked as a storage unit and coffee table.
“Who painted that?”
Glancing quickly at the picture then Vince, as if to be sure they were talking about the same thing, she answered. “My dad.”
“It’s good. Really good.”
“He never believed in his painting; he preferred gambling instead. He said he was an average painter among thousands of other average painters. What a pity he never grasped the idea that he was a below-average gambler.”
She went to the picture and picked it up. Despite the fact that it had traveled with her throughout her life, sat on her mantle and been dusted each week, she hadn’t studied it closely in years. There she sat on the grass with Trilby stretched out at her feet. He carried a red ball in his mouth while she leaned back on her arms, a quirky smile on her face. Her father had captured them well. The picture spoke of a child without a care, a time before the gambling losses, the fights, and the vanishing assets.
“You know, it’s all I have from my childhood. Obviously books didn’t feature much, and my mother disappeared with the little left once the repo man had been through.” Her laugh was hollow.
“Really, that’s it?”
“Yup, that and a few photos, which is more than what Marlo had.”
Marlo set the cream jug back on the tray, using her forearm to guide Fala away from the food. “I had books. That was something.”
“No photos?” Vince asked.
“No. It’s odd, isn’t it? They’re something most people take for granted, but I don’t have any. I don’t know if photos were taken. I don’t recall. None made it with my belongings to the school where I boarded after Mom died. An actual record of my life in that sense didn’t begin until I met Adam. Now he makes up for it. I feel as though every time I turn around I catch him taking a photo of me.”
Lulah crossed her hands over her heart. “Aw, young love,” she teased.
“Having books and normal parents are no guarantee for an easy life. Look at me, I’m the biggest wreck of all of us, and my upbringing was all sunshine and apple pie.”
“True dat.”
“Lulah!”
She grinned at Vince. “Oh, so I wasn’t supposed to agree?”
“I’d accuse you of leaving the gate open, but I’m not letting you away with that any more. That’s your excuse for making mischief.”
“You haven’t seen me close to misbehaving, Vince.”
Marlo cleared her throat. “Hello, I’m still here. If you two need privacy go ahead, say the word.”
Vince smiled. “It’s okay, I’ll leave you ladies to it soon. I have work to catch up on.” He faced Lulah. “What comes next with your course?”
“I have to travel.” She laughed. “That doesn’t happen too often these days, thank god. I go to Massachusetts and do three practical labs and if I pass, that’s it. Qualified.”
“Qualified, wow, girl with a degree.”
“I’m not there, yet. Let’s not jinx it.”
“But you will be, Lulah, because you’ll put everything you have into it and succeed.”
No pressure. She’d never passed a thing in her life and she felt incompetent, washed with an old but familiar dread. In her experience, the unknown frequently meant unattainable.
“Hey.” Marlo broke the silence. “You okay there?”
“What if I don’t pass?” She threw out her fear without thinking.
“You’ll pass.”
“But what if I don’t?” She hated the childlike whine that edged her voice.
“Lulah, stop.” Vince’s voice was low and calm. “You will pass. They’ll love you—the dogs, roosters, llamas—whatever animals they’re going to line up for you to work your magic on. This is your chance to show them how smart you are. Anyway, what’s the worst thing that could happen if you don’t pass?”
“That’s easy. No promotion. No position running the service dog program here at the Sanctuary.”
Vince grinned. “Walked into that one, didn’t I?”
“Straight into the trap, soldier.”
“Marine.”
“Semantics.”
“You’re on shaky ground there, girl. Don’t forget, I’m friends with the woman who runs that Sanctuary. One word from me and your prospects of promotion are down the drain.”
Lulah nudged him. “That’s okay, Marine, I have a backup plan. Mike says if I don’t make it through, he’ll give me a job any day.”
The grin slid from Vince’s face. “Sure…good, a backup’s good.” He stood. “I’d better head over to the barn. I’m behind, and I have other demands on my time. I’ll better move along.”
“So, Vince, did you sort things out at the VA today?” Marlo asked.
Vince’s mouth tightened. He rubbed at that spot behind his neck that he liked to trouble when he was edgy.
Lulah flicked a quick look at Marlo but saw that she seemed to be watching the situation the same way she focused on a new dog, and Lulah relaxed. No way Marlo would push him too far. What amazed her wasn’t her friend’s skills at reading the situation, but the fact that she was poised to step in and protect Vince, even when he’d acted like a total jerk. Yeah, the dynamic between them was changing. A subtle shift, but definitely on the move.
So long as she remembered UHT guy was unreliable.
Vince’s mouth eased with a small comfort smile. “I did, yeah. I made some appointments. We’ve set up a treatment plan, twice a week: one private session and one group.”
“Wow, how does that feel?”
“Terrifying.” He watched his feet for a moment, raising his focus slowly towards Marlo. “Really terrifying. I keep hoping that I’ll wake up tomorrow and find that I’ve slept away the last nightmare, the last fear, the burst of adrenaline, but that’s not going to happen, is it?”
“No, it’s not. In fact, it’s probably going to become worse if you don’t take this chance to find a way to live with it. You have to understand, it can improve, but it doesn’t go away.”
“Sure. I’m going to do some carving.” He glanced at Lulah before asking Marlo if she had told her about his latest project.
“She hasn’t said a word.”
“Are you keeping secrets these days?”
“Smart guy. I thought you’d prefer to tell her when you were ready,” Lulah explained.
“Why don’t I show you instead? Come over to the barn when you’re done with all the girl talk. Bring tea. Lulah makes the best tea.”
“Yeah, yeah. Flattery for a feed or a drink only works during the honeymoon period.”
“Yeah, yeah, back,” he called as he reached the door, managing to duck through and close the door as Lulah flung a cushion at him.
Chapter Fifteen
They listened to Vince take the steps in one leap and stride across the yard. “How’s it going having Vince there?”
“Having him living over there, as in, having somebody about the place; that’s going fine. He’s neat, tidy, respectful, quiet.” Lulah paused, “Yep, that’s
mostly what he is. The other side of him is hot and volatile and messy.”
“So what do you want out of this?”
“I want Vince to commit himself to getting help. I want him to prove that he’s willing to invest in himself.”
“You know, in your heart, that’s asking a lot for someone in Vince’s position.”
“The ball’s in his court, Marlo. When I first met him, I thought I could help him, fix him, but I can’t.”
Marlo started to clear the plates away. “You know what he does around you?”
“What’s that?”
“He watches you the same way a dog does. Not with that needy sort of infatuation, but watching for clues, learning what you do, your movements and behaviors. It’s a bit like the way Calliope used to watch him before her training started, before you gave her some guidance into how to manage being with him and being able to help him.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“It’s nice, it’s not creepy. He cares and he seems to be working out his way in. He might need some guidance the way Calliope did. You can probably help him more than you know. Tell him what you want, what you expect from him. Consider his military training, too. Not that he’s any sort of puppet needing a master to work the emotional strings, but simply that he respects the clarity of good battle orders.”
“Do you know people in the military?”
Marlo grinned. “Adam’s the nearest. His police background helps, but now we’re about to have regular contact with combat PTSD sufferers, Adam’s learning more about their culture. Mr. Fixit decided he was under-equipped for the job.”
“I’m feeling my way here, too. I don’t have clear battle orders and I’m not sure this is the type of battlefield I’m willing to enter. I have to be able to rely on command, Marlo, because the last guy in charge was no leader and now there’s, you know, fallout. The next person I allow into my life is going to be the kind of person who has my back and best interests, someone who is there for me.”
“And while we’re near the subject, don’t even think about taking a job with Mike. We need you here.”
“Tell that to CRAR. If I fail my qualifications I’m stuffed.”
“But there are plenty of other things you can do here.”
“And watch somebody do the job I should have?”
“I thought you wanted to buy this cabin.”
“I do, but if I have to move, I will buy a different cabin.” She grabbed Marlo’s arm before she started running water into the sink. “Come on, leave those, let’s make tea and I’ll take you over to the barn to show you what Vince is making.”
At the barn, Lulah opened the door before Vince reached it. Although his workbench was well-lit, the rest of the barn was in darkness. He took the tray from Lulah, setting it on his bench, and switched on the lamp by the sofa. The light it threw played off the ancient timbers of the barn’s interior, giving off a warm, amber glow.
“I hope we’re not disturbing you.”
“Too late for that, something disturbed me a couple of years ago,” Vince said with a grin.
Marlo had already gravitated to the drawings pinned on the board behind the workbench and they waited for her reaction. She stood for an impossibly long time before turning to Vince. “You drew these?”
Vince nodded.
“They’re stunning. I’m speechless. You’ve captured Justice perfectly. His character spills from those sketches. Why have you hidden this talent, Vince?”
Lulah watched him tug his shoulders down, amputating the start of a shrug. “I didn’t think I could do this anymore.” He gestured to the pictures. “It’s all from another life, another time. I’d started sketching again after hanging about at the artists’ co-op in town. One day somebody brought in a wooden sign that needed fixing, and I helped a guy with that. It needed a new bit carved, so I made that up for him. Gradually I took on other pieces of work. When I took care of Gable that weekend and I had to clear out the shed, I found my old wagon that I had as a kid. Fixing that up for Gable gave me the confidence to have a go at this again. Now it’s really helping me. To be able to do something good with these hands again, it’s…”
He stood beside Marlo as she studied his working drawings. “So this is Justice, obviously. I’m going to make him like a carousel dog but instead of mounting him on a pole, I’ll mount him on two rockers. He’ll be bigger than life-size, like a rocking horse, but a dog. I want to donate him to be auctioned for the Sanctuary fundraiser. I hope someone will want to buy him.”
“I think you can be certain many people will want to buy him. Me included. A replica of Justice is so appropriate—perfect, really. Having come to the Sanctuary with his own form of PTSD, and finally trusting us and healing so well makes him the ideal mascot for the service dog training program.”
Lulah started to pour the tea.
“None for me,” Marlo said, “I had better get Fala home and I’m expecting Adam to phone. Do you have any idea what it’s like if I’m not there to answer? Instant panic, call in the troopers.”
“The guy’s a pussy, Marlo. I thought those Kiwis were supposed to be rugged.”
“He’s rugged when he needs to be.” Marlo winked and went back to the drawings. “Such a talent you have here, Vince. It’s a gift, you know, be sure to treasure it.”
“I will, I understand I’m lucky to have it.”
Marlo called the dogs to her and headed towards the door. Vince watched Lulah. “Will you stay a while?”
She handed him a mug of tea. “For a bit.”
“Good, thank you.” Back at his workbench he waited for her to settle on the sofa. “How’s your leg?”
The bruise was spectacular this morning, even darker and spreading like a marauding army taking over a large continent. It still hurt with a deep and thorough ache. “It’s much better.”
“What about the rest of you, any other aches? No, don’t answer that, I know you’ll try to hide it from me. See how that’s not working?”
She wasn’t trying to hide it, but admitting to it felt weak. Lulah leaned back on the armrest of the sofa and studied the roof of the barn. Did Vince have his favorite boards, joints, or beams up there in the old, vaulted oak ceiling? Places where the color was exactly right or a flaw drew his gaze? She closed her eyes and listened to the dull thwack of the mallet hitting his chisel as he carved. The energy around him changed when he worked, as if his concentration allowed his creativity to surface and protect him. Joker laid a paw near her arm, his soft muzzle nudged her elbow in a request to join her. She shifted a little and pointed towards her feet and the dog took his cue, climbing up and resting against her legs. He shuffled his head around a bit before deciding her knee was the best pillow. In seconds, his eyes were closed as he fell into that instant sleep dogs did so well.
Vince stopped carving and she heard the settle of his tea mug on the wooden bench. “So any other aches?”
Yeah, you see there’s this one in my chest and if I think about it, it aches. Mostly I can keep it dull, but when I spend too much time with you, it grows.
“Stiff more than achy. I’m fine once I’m on the move. Listen to me sounding like an arthritic Labrador.”
“Would you honestly take that job with Mike?”
She squeezed her eyes closed. Vince was probably the last person she wanted to discuss this with. “I don’t know. Of course, I want the promotion at the Sanctuary, but even if I qualify, there’s no guarantee. I have to go through the interview process the same as any other applicant. If I miss out on the position, well yeah, I’ll check my prospects with Mike.”
“I hate seeing you with him.”
“Oh, Vince.”
“I do. Why is that? Anyone else is fine, but Mike…he does my head in. And it’s entirely irrational. There’s nothing wrong with the guy. He’s probably a good person. Look what he’s doing with Calliope for me.”
Most likely, Mike was everything Vince wanted to be, maybe he’s
how Vince once was, but his chance of reaching that level of holding-his-shit-together was so unlikely it didn’t seem to be a viable goal. “I think you know why. You’ve probably gone over that a number of times in your head, and you need to find a way to put those thoughts to rest.”
Vince’s laugh was short and harsh. “My mind doesn’t work like that anymore. It’s hell trying to pull away from obsessive thoughts when an idea or emotion becomes jammed in this sort of tumbling barrel. The thoughts knock from side to side, no escape, and when the barrel stops the thoughts are still there. They don’t leave.”
“Yes they will, because you’re getting help.”
“I’m glad you have faith in that system.”
“Come on, you have to have faith, too.”
He did have faith in the system because that was all he had left. His only route to Gable. To gain access to his daughter without racking up too much lawyer time or pushing up the needle on Taryn’s Eternal Shit Meter, he had to make it through counseling. And not just make it through, but make it work.
“Faith…yeah. I’m so pleased to be working back with Doc again. It’s as if he gets me, you know? He doesn’t have to ask the questions all the others do because it’s like he already understands. Right now, he gives me the confidence that this time it will work. This time I’m going to pass through the tunnel.” While he spoke he’d walked towards her, dropping into a crouch at the sofa near her head.
“I believe you will make it through.” Her belief she underscored by reaching her hand for his cheek in a slow, snake charmer’s move.
He took hold of her fingers, straightening them and pressing her full palm against the side of his face. The warmth of her hand, slightly damp from holding the hot mug of tea, gave him a rush of pleasure. There was no attempt from her to withdraw from his clasp, and as he watched carefully for any apprehension, he slid her palm down to his mouth, pulling her fingers back to trace her lifeline with the tip of his tongue.
Her gaze never faltered: no startled blink of her eyes, nor twitch of her head. He continued to the base of her little finger, tracking a line across the mounds of her palm, finger to finger and when he stopped, his tongue at the base of her index finger, she flexed her hand from his grip. She turned it a little and covered his mouth and pressed against his nose to hamper his breath. “Do you trust me, Vince?” she whispered, her eyes earnest.
