by Liz Dodwell
“Some people added a little extra when they found out what it was for. We’re all really impressed with what you and your family are doing for needy military vets. And their pets, of course. Anyway, I must dash, it’s almost time for Tootsie and her Dancing Dog to do their number.”
“Wait. How can I thank everybody for their generosity? This is so wonderful.”
“I’ll pass along your words, but the best thanks would be to keep doing what you’re already doing. Make us proud, Polly.”
What was I saying earlier about moods changing quickly? ‘Cause right now, I was on top of the world. “I’ll certainly do my best,” I said. “Oh, one more thing. Who is the guy with the German shepherd who brought the thief down? I really want to talk to him in person.”
“You’ll find him at the K9 Security booth. Now I really must go.”
Whatshisname took off at a swift pace leaving me to contemplate the kindness of my fellow man, and woman, of course. Tina returned with an ice pack and ice cream, which boosted my good humor even more. And a little later, when I tried to stand, the pain in my knee had reduced to a dull ache.
“I’m going to see if I can find the guy with the dog,” I announced to Tina. “Can you hold down the fort?”
We’d been doing some brisk business; signed on several new clients and gathered a bunch of leads. Meanwhile, donations had been pouring in along with offers to help with Welcome Home. Now the show was winding down and I was looking forward to getting home, but I really wanted to thank the hero and his dog.
“No problem,” Tina said.
I found K9 Security just a few booths away but it was empty. There were stacks of leaflets on the table so I picked one up and read:
K9 SECURITY GUARD DOG SERVICES
Effective
Dependable
Inexpensive
Underneath was a picture of a snarling shepherd.
“Hi, there. Can we help you?”
Startled, I turned to see two of the most hunky guys I’d ever dreamed of. It was obvious they both spent a lot of time in the gym by the way their t-shirts were stretched tight over their torsos. At heel next to them were two German shepherds.
“Hey, you must be the gal who had her money stolen. We were told it was someone from Pets and People, Too.”
I must have looked blank because the one who spoke nodded at my breasts. I looked down. Oh, right. My logo was embroidered on the polo shirt I was wearing. Awkward.
“Um, yes. I’m Polly Parrett.” I held out my hand.
A large hand covered mine but its owner was careful not to give a crushing shake.
“Mat Abaroa, and this is my partner, Jake Sinasohn.”
In his turn Jake shook hands, then after the formal introductions were over I looked at the dogs. “And who are these guys?”
“Larry and Moe.”
I laughed. “Don’t tell me there’s a Curly somewhere?”
Both men grinned and Jake replied. “As a matter of fact, we’re training Curly right now.”
For those of you who don’t know, Larry, Moe and Curly were the names of The Three Stooges, a trio of vaudeville players famous for their slapstick comedy routines in the mid-1900s.
“Listen,” I got serious, “I really want to thank whichever one of you saved my day.”
“That would be Mat and Larry.” Jake cocked his head toward his partner.
“It’s all in a day’s work for us,” Mat said, “And good practice for Larry.”
“Can I pet him?”
“Sure.”
I gave the dog a good scruff behind the ears. “You’re a really good boy.”
Larry slowly waved his tail and gave me a happy dog grin.
I chatted with the guys for a little while, asking about their business and training methods. Jake explained they used German commands. Turned out he was of German origin as well; his first name was actually Jakob.
“That explains why I didn’t understand the commands you used,” I said to Mat. “But what was it that sounded like ‘giblets?’ “
The men looked at each with raised eyebrows, then understanding dawned and they burst out laughing.
“That was ‘Gib Laut.’ It’s the command for bark.”
I laughed as well, though a little self-consciously, then figured it was time to take my leave.
“I’m going to take some of your leaflets to hand out and if I can ever help you guys, let me know. It seems so inadequate to just say thanks.”
“We’ll take a hug and call it quits,” Jake said and he put his arms round me and gave a squeeze. When Mat grabbed me he lifted me off my feet. All that manhood was making me a little giddy and I laughed self-consciously, which was when I heard a voice say, “Hello, Polly.”
It was Tyler – my boyfriend.
Four
“They’re really good guys,” Tyler said. He was referring to Mat and Jake. We were in my van on the way to Welcome Home. Tyler had insisted on driving when he saw the state of my knee. I’d used the drive time to tell him everything that had happened. He just might be the most amazing guy ever. Not only was he totally caring and concerned about me, he wasn’t at all bothered when he found me in the embrace of another guy. Just a minute, maybe I should be pissed he wasn’t jealous.
“So it doesn’t bother you if other men find me attractive?”
“Certainly not when they’re gay.”
I felt heat begin to rise in my face and knew it must be turning red as Tyler glanced over at me.
“Seriously?” He grinned. “You didn’t know?”
“They said they were partners. I figured they just meant business partners.” I was feeling a bit defensive, and let down. I’d never been confident about my looks so I’d been enjoying the thought that a couple of great-looking guys might think I was cute. Tyler read my thoughts immediately, though.
“Oh, honey, guys look at you all the time. Believe me, I’ve seen them, and it makes me proud that you’re with me.” Wow. I am one lucky lady to have this guy.
Changing the subject, Tyler continued. “You’ve had quite an exciting few days. Now you’ll have to decide what to do about your inheritance.”
“You’re going to help me deal with the house.” Tyler’s a realtor; I looked pointedly at him. “As for my alter ego, Polly Parrot, apparently the new guy has taken charge of her.”
We had taken in a new resident very recently. He didn’t arrive with a pet but Welcome Home wasn’t going to exclude any veteran who needed housing; it’s just that we would also welcome their pets when they had them, while most shelters would not.
“What do you know about him?”
“His name’s Mike something, he lost a leg in Iraq, though he seems to do well with his prosthetic, and that’s about it. I only met him briefly last week.”
“Well, I guess I can find out for myself,” Tyler said as we pulled up in front of the old homestead.
The dogs must have alerted the household to our arrival. The front door opened and my three, Angel, Vinny and Coco, burst through, followed by an equally happy, though less bouncy, Elaine. You know, one of the greatest things in the world is to be greeted by a dog. It’s as if you just made her whole life worth living.
Rooster and Mike came out to help Tyler unload my stuff. There wasn’t space to store it at my little house in town so the huge basement in the farmhouse was a blessing. As the men worked I limped inside and found Mom in the kitchen. She spun her wheelchair and smiled.
“I thought you’d probably be hungry by the time you got here. There’s oxtail stew ready to go and I made a lemon meringue pie.”
I gazed fondly at my mother. A couple of years ago she’d been a bitter, miserable woman. A horse-riding accident had crippled her, and her constant, self-indulgent pity had driven my dad away. But the Welcome Home project had brought back the vital, resourceful woman I loved. Her wheelchair was no longer a handicap but a tool she used to great effect. And since Rooster had been in residence he’d made a lot of
improvements for Mom. In the kitchen, countertops had been lowered, cupboards now had pull-out and drop-down shelves, the microwave was at chair height and both the stove top and sink were open underneath so Mom could wheel right up. It was brilliant.
Between us Mom and I set the table, by which time the men were done and we all sat. With the exception of Rooster, the residents usually cooked for themselves in the kitchen of the converted barn. Tonight, though, Mike was joining us at the house to update us on the macaw’s condition.
It was an enjoyable meal. Once again I recounted my story and Rooster told us he’d counted the donations and we had more than three hundred dollars! We discussed what to do about the house I now owned. Mom wanted me to keep the inheritance for myself; I argued it would be better used toward rehabbing the farm property for Welcome Home. Finally, Tyler stepped in and suggested we assess the house first, then make a decision, and we all agreed that was best.
“So, Mike. How’s Po…” I just couldn’t quite bring myself to say the name. “How’s the bird?”
The young man had barely spoken throughout the meal. When I addressed him he visibly tensed and snatched at his glass, sloshing water on the table. His eyes dilated and he dropped his chin to his chest, mumbling rapid apologies. Taken aback, I looked helplessly at him ‘til Rooster, the seasoned veteran, put out a calming hand and squeezed his shoulder.
“It’s alright, son. You’re with friends. Nobody minds a little spill. Why don’t you tell Polly what you were telling me earlier, about why you think the parrot’s been pulling its feathers out?”
Mike looked up and Rooster gave him an encouraging nod. He turned to me, though didn’t quite make eye contact and spoke haltingly.
“She’s depressed. And frightened. And lonely.”
That didn’t surprise me, and I told Mike how the macaw had been kept in the bathroom after her owner died. As I talked, he began to relax and paid close attention to my words, nodding in understanding.
“Parrots are very sociable; they like company. Polly, uh, that’s the parrot not, uh…you…”
“I get it, Mike. Go on.”
“Well, she would have been very attached to the old lady. Imagine if your Mom died and then you were shut away in a bathroom for days or weeks with no company and nothing to do.”
“Uh, yes,” I said, because I just didn’t know how else to respond.
Rooster leaned forward resting his arms on the table. “Mike has already developed a bond with the macaw, haven’t you son? Tell us what you do to help her.”
“I talk to her. At first she didn’t listen but after a while she started to pay attention, especially when I told her we are from the same part of the world, and I described the beautiful rainforests with their colorful fruits and flowers.”
“What part of the world is that, Mike?” Tyler asked.
“I was born in Colombia, but my family came here to America soon after. That’s why I am called Mike. They wanted me to be American, to have an American name. I am Mike Martinez.”
“And where are your family?”
It seemed a natural enough question for Mom to ask, but it had a bizarre effect on Mike who shot to his feet. “I have to go.” And he rushed from the room leaving us all wondering what had just happened. Well, all of us but Rooster.
“He lost a leg to an IED in Iraq. Worse still, he lost his best friend in the blast.”
“Survivor’s guilt?” Tyler asked.
“I’m sure, and PTSD. He needs help but he’s resisting it. I had a hard time persuading him to stay at Welcome Home so I don’t want to push too hard. Believe it or not, tonight was progress. It was a big step for him to sit at a table with a group of near strangers and actually make conversation.”
“But what about his family?” I asked. “Surely they can help.”
“He hasn’t spoken of them and, like I said, it’s best not to push. We don’t even know how he found us. He turned up at the door and asked if there was any work he could do in exchange for a bed for a night. Turns out he’s a pretty fair hand at fixing things so we’ve got plenty to keep him busy but, until he took charge of your macaw, I had to coax him to spend each day with us.”
“He’s not dangerous, is he? He’s awfully moody and I’d hate to think of Mom being here alone with him.”
“Nonsense!” Mom was emphatic. “He’s a nice boy who’s lived through a really bad time. He needs a place where he feels accepted and that’s what Rooster and I intend to give him. Besides, the animals all took to him right away. Cappy was on his lap the first night and even Ollie has been snuggling up to him. And I don’t know how we would have coped with Polly without him. The bird has given him purpose; something that needs him and doesn’t criticize.”
Three of my cats, Cappy and Ollie, along with Leif, live with my mother. Ollie had been mauled as a baby when a neighbor found him and brought him to me. It took months for him to recover, physically that is, but even eight years later he’s still very timid, so I was surprised at his rapid acceptance of Mike. The guy must certainly have something going for him. To reinforce that thought, Mike walked back into the room at that moment with Ms. Parrot on his arm. He held his arm close to his chest and the bird sat facing him.
“I thought you might like to see her,” he said, and held out his arm to reveal her.
“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. She’s beginning to look better already.” Seriously, I did think she’d gained a wee bit of weight and I swear there was a little glimmer in her eyes.
“Will she bite if I stroke her?”
“I’ll tell her it’s OK.” He put his mouth close to her head and made soft tutting noises while I reached out and ran my fingers over her feathers. She arched her neck and made kissing sounds. I was thrilled.
“Mike, you’re a bird whisperer.”
He looked shyly pleased. “I’ve been keeping her in my bedroom and feeding her fresh fruit with her pellets. She really likes grapes. And some of her pin feathers are beginning to grow back in.”
I peered at her chest. “Well, so they are.” Who’da thought it?
“We need to do something about her name, though. It’s not going to work having two Polly Parretts - or Parrots - in the house.”
“But she’s used to that name.” So am I. Mike’s expression was rather plaintive, then an idea seemed to dawn on him. “Do you know how old she is?”
“As a matter of fact, it was on the paperwork I got from the lawyer’s office. She’s 38.”
“And how old are you?”
“Weeell…”
“She’s 28,” my mother chimed in, trying not to laugh at my discomfort.
“Then it’s settled. She’s the oldest, she’s had the name longest; she should keep it.”
There’s no arguing with that kind of logic.
Soon after, Tyler and I were heading home. He was going to take the van after dropping me off. In the morning his sister, Suzette, would help him pick up his car, which was still at the site of the jubilee, and bring the van back to me. I was just keeping my fingers crossed there’d be no early morning pet-care emergencies. As things looked right now my morning was open, so Tyler and I planned to take a look at Naomi Ledbetter’s house.
When we got to my place, Tyler jumped from the van and escorted me inside with the dogs, then immediately began to check around. I shook my head.
“It’s time you stopped doing that. The boogie man is not going to jump out at me.”
“As long as I’m here, it doesn’t hurt to be sure.”
Remember I told you I’d been involved in a murder a couple of Christmases ago? Well, the killer attacked me in my driveway one night. In fact, that’s the singular incident that really brought Tyler and me together. Then, the following Christmas, I was involved in another murder. Anyway, because of that, whenever Tyler is at my house he can’t help but look for errant criminals. It’s rather sweet, really.
“Alright,” Tyler said, pulling me to him, “it’s time I left.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck while Vinny, my bossy miniature poodle, did his damndest to push between us. We ignored him.
“You could stay,” I said, causing Tyler to draw in a quick breath, “on the couch.”
He groaned. “I can’t be that close to you all night and guarantee my behavior.”
He didn’t know it, but I’m not sure I could guarantee mine, either. It’s not that I’m a prude, but as sure as Newton’s apple fell to the ground, I was crazy in love with this guy and it was scaring the dickens out of me.
“I’m sorry, Tyler. I’m just not ready….”
“Ready, yet. I know.” He sighed. “I can wait. Especially for someone really worth waiting for.”
He lowered his head and placed a long, soft kiss on my lips while we gazed into each other’s eyes. As he pulled away he gave a rueful grin and abruptly changed the subject. “You know, maybe I’ll call you Iris from now on, seeing as Polly Parrot is the winner in the name sweepstakes.”
I pulled a face. By calling me Iris he was referring to my heterochromia iridum, which is a fancy way of saying I have different colored eyes: one iris was brown, the other green.
“You’re right,” Tyler noted my grimace, “you need an exotic name to match the mystique your eyes give you. I’ll have to think about it.”
“You do that.” And I shoved him out the door.
Five
Stale air enveloped us as we stepped through the front door of my inheritance and into the living room.
“Ewww. Let’s leave the door open,” I said, “and air the place out a bit.”
Tyler flicked the light switch; nothing happened, so I stepped to the window and pulled back the vintage floral drapes. As I turned to see what the light revealed, a scratching noise further inside made me freeze and my heartbeat skipped up a few beats. I looked at Tyler.
“Did you hear that?”
He nodded while putting his finger to his lips. We stood still and silent and there was the noise again.
“What is it?” I hissed.
