Her Secret Protector

by Roxanne Snopek

  “Maybe you’re better off hidden away in your castle. Maybe you don’t really want to get involved with… Cherry Lake… after all.”

  She turned away and he watched her go, helpless to argue. He hadn’t lied, exactly. He just hadn’t told her everything. He would have. Eventually. When the time was right.

  As for him being a coward, well that struck a nerve. He was no coward. What did she want from him? He’d come to this stupid dance, he’d hung out with her, he’d put himself out there, hadn’t he? And for what?

  Nothing.

  He glanced around the room. He could feel the eyes of a hundred people on him, but none of them would meet his gaze. Calloway’s sly innuendo had poisoned them against him and worse, made monsters of his dogs.

  Suddenly before he knew it, he was at the mic.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  “Good evening.” He looked at the door, where Carrie had paused at the sound of his voice. “I think you all know who I am. Carrie Logan mentioned my dogs, earlier. If you want to make up your own mind about them, I’ll be doing a demonstration at the festival tomorrow. Decide for yourselves.”

  Across the crowded room, his eyes met Carrie’s and for a second, he thought he saw a smile. Then she was gone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‡

  If only he could let his own dogs join the fun, thought Ethan. The vast area of lawn stretched in front of them, dotted with family groups on blankets, some with picnic baskets in front of them, others holding cardboard trays and paper bags of goodies from the food court. Many of the festival goers had their dogs with them, on leash as they perused the stalls, off leash on the green space, barking, running, chasing, wrestling.

  But his boys would get their turn.

  The festival was a cornucopia of delicious offerings, he’d discovered. Cherry cordial, cherry preserves, cherry pastries, cherry pancakes. Cherry everything, plus the usual festival food.

  He only hoped he wouldn’t end up wearing it.

  The fact that Carrie was still angry marred the event. He’d explained everything, Vincent, the charges that were dropped, letting go of his company. His broken engagement.

  The mistake the relationship had been in the first place.

  “I’m not angry,” she told him, yet again.

  “Yes you are.”

  “I’m disappointed.”

  “That’s passive-aggressive for anger. Don’t kid a kidder.”

  She handed him a pile of the light-weight PVC piping that he used for jumps. She still insisted on helping him set up for the event. He wasn’t sure if this was meant as punishment or peace offering.

  Punishment, most likely.

  “Fine,” said Carrie. “The whole time I was freaking out about how much I’d let down my family, you knew exactly what I was dealing with and you said nothing. Forget it. It’s no big deal.”

  “Why don’t you just hit me and be done with it?”

  With that, she flung a length of plastic pipe at him, narrowing missing his head.

  “There,” he said. “Feel better now?”

  She scowled at him. “Maybe. I’ll have to do it a few more times to be sure.”

  “I’m really sorry, Carrie. It wasn’t all a secret. Exactly.”

  “That’s where you’re exactly wrong,” she said. “It was. You had a huge secret and while you knew the worst about me, you kept me in the dark. And I don’t know why I’m upset. It’s not like…”

  He knew what she meant. It’s not like they were dating.

  She walked away from him, dragging a collapsible tunnel behind her. He’d made her feel like a fool, he realized. That’s what had her most upset.

  She’d done nothing but be honest with him, try to help him, stand up for both of them and what had he done? Let her down, again and again.

  “I’m going to check on the dogs,” he called.

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  At her suggestion, he’d brought Dixie and the puppies along for the day, installing the group in an exercise pen in the shade, next to Gun, who instead of being upset at being benched, seemed to consider the mom and puppies his own personal responsibility to watch over.

  Gun had grown to adore Carrie as well, and she appeared to return the sentiment. His dark gaze followed her actions as she moved back and forth setting up equipment to Ethan’s specifications, his tail thumping whenever she glanced at him.

  At least she wasn’t mad at the dogs.

  “Gunny,” she said, bending down and fondling his ears. The big animal lay back and exposed his belly, his tongue hanging out. Fool-headed worship.

  Ethan knew the feeling.

  “Thanks,” he said. “For helping. For suggesting this in the first place.”

  “You should get started.” Carrie ignored him and picked up her camera. “Where do you want me?”

  Anywhere, anytime.

  But first, he had to find a way back into her good graces.

  An audience was starting to gather.

  He directed her to a spot beside the chute. “Sit there. Straighten it out after it’s been used so no one gets tangled up in it.”

  “Roger that.”

  To his surprise, Amanda Frankel was there with her son. The kid was pulling on her arm and from the distance, he could tell she was arguing. But they joined the growing crowd, sitting at the farthest edge.

  Carrie snapped a few quick photos, a complete professional, nothing of their personal clash evident. She’d been officially fired, he remembered, but that wasn’t stopping her from taking her own shots.

  She wasn’t a quitter, he thought with admiration. She was here, participating, throwing her whole self into the festival because that’s who she was. Despite being hurt and mad at him, she was here with him. Maybe she didn’t believe he’d really follow through.

  Or maybe, she believed in him. Maybe she wanted him to succeed.

  Ethan would never have done this if not for Carrie and suddenly he was glad.

  In the park, a group of boys were playing pick-up football, their laughter floating over the summer air, mixing with the chatter of voices around them. Ethan took a moment to let it soak in. He was at a summer festival. He was participating.

  He was about to display to people something that he was most proud of. Not his cryptography; he’d had plenty of accolades for that, but corporate recognition, government gratitude none of it meant anything, compared to the possibility of being part of something, being involved in a community where his actions affected people. Where, if he didn’t show up, someone might notice.

  He could feel it, so close. Like a word on the tip of his tongue that he’d be able to remember, if only he tried hard enough and waited long enough.

  And Carrie was the key.

  “Come on, Bluebeard,” she called. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  A slight smile lifted her lips and courage rushed into him with it. Maybe it didn’t matter how the demonstration went. Maybe nothing else mattered but that smile.

  Snap.

  He jerked his head.

  “Did you just take my picture?”

  “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” Her grin went through him like a lance. “If I did, it was an accident. I’m just getting some nice candid shots. People at ease, enjoying the fair.”

  Again, that sensation of being seen, recognized, flowed over him. Even mad, she had his back.

  She adjusted the strap on her camera and settled herself about three feet away from the chute, her bright hair falling around her shoulders, her legs tucked around the legs of the folding chair, like an excited kid.

  She’d been scared, the first time she’d come to see him. Afraid of him, his dogs. Desperate to keep the lid on a secret that needed to get out.

  The worst had happened, for her. And look at her now. She didn’t care about what people said. She’d stuck up for him, in a very public way that he hadn’t appreciated, but had nevertheless resulted in him standing here, right now, ready to send his best d
og off on a mission to change the hearts and minds of those watching.

  Carrie had done this.

  In the midst of her own career tanking, people criticizing her for her art, her own family barely talking to her, she’d managed to find a way to insert him into this town that she loved, making him believe that he too, could belong here. That he, too, could love it here.

  She cocked her head, as if wondering about the delay. Then she pursed her lips and sent him an air kiss.

  It landed on him like a mace.

  “Break a leg, Ashur,” she called. “Come on, Ethan. What are you waiting for?”

  Excellent question. What was he waiting for?

  She’d sent him an air kiss. They’d shared some very real kisses before that. She’d introduced him as her special friend.

  Suddenly he understood why her look of betrayal at the dance had been so devastating to him. Why he’d decided to come here today.

  It wasn’t just agility he was demonstrating today. And there was only one person he was performing for.

  “Okay, buddy,” he said, looking down at his dog. “You ready?”

  Ashur barked once. He was always ready.

  Ethan took a few steps, up to the start line of the course.

  “Line up,” he called to Ashur and widened his stance.

  The dog trotted around him, but instead of coming to heel, he sat down with his head between Ethan’s knees.

  “Good boy. Now, wait.”

  He strode about a third of the way into the course, glancing around for anyone or anything that might be a distraction. Regulation courses were so much more reliable, but he’d do the best he could.

  He was surprised and pleased to see the number of faces, watching. More pleased to see that Carrie was leaning forward with anticipation.

  “Ashur,” he called. “Over!”

  He gestured to the first obstacle, a single post jump, and moved quickly to the next one, a lower double-post jump. Ashur flew over them both, clearing them with inches to spare.

  “Climb it!” he said, gesturing to the A-frame. “Slowly.”

  Ashur thundered onto the structure and would have taken a flying leap off the downside, if not for Ethan’s reminder.

  To his surprise, he heard a smattering of applause. The dog noticed, though, and did a quick twirl, which earned giggles from the kids.

  He’d forgotten how much Ashur loved performing, and felt bad that he hadn’t had the dog in front of an audience more often. He was a natural crowd-pleaser and seemed to understand that they weren’t going for points today. This was all about showmanship.

  He felt Carrie’s eyes on them. Did she understand that he was doing this for her?

  “Weave,” he commanded, when they got to the flexible upright poles. Ashur nosed through them, slaloming like a champion skier, never missing a beat, then followed Ethan’s hand movement to land on the pause box.

  “Down.”

  The dog sank onto his chest, his pink tongue lolling out of his mouth, making him look like he was grinning.

  He might as well have been. He was having the time of his life.

  After the arbitrary five seconds Ethan had chosen as appropriate, he motioned the dog to the board-walk, the tunnel, a few more jumps, the chute and then urged him toward the finish line.

  “Yay!” he yelled. “Good boy!”

  People applauded vigorously. He let Ashur have a tug on his favorite toy, then led him to the front of the course, where most of the people were seated.

  “Take a bow, boy,” he said.

  Ashur folded one leg in front of him and stretched the other out, laying his head almost on the ground.

  Laughter rippled over the crowd and somewhere, a little girl squealed. From the sidelines, Carrie gave him a thumbs-up and he felt his whole face light up in response.

  “If anyone would like to meet Ashur personally,” he said, “this is your chance. Ashur, sit.”

  The dog sat, his sides heaving from his run, happiness in every line of his body.

  A young couple approached with two small kids.

  “It’s okay,” said Ethan, encouragingly. “If you put your hand out, he’ll shake it.”

  The little girl took a tentative step forward.

  “Shake her hand, Ashur,” instructed Ethan.

  The dog put up a paw and held it until the little girl shook it gently.

  “He’s shaking hands with me, Mommy,” she cried, in delight.

  Suddenly there was a line-up, to meet the cool dog that shook hands.

  Ethan looked over to where Carrie was still sitting. She smiled at him, her hand at her chest. He knew the feeling.

  Then, out of nowhere, a black-and-white border collie came crashing through the makeshift barricade, racing to catch a Frisbee, heedless of the line-up of children.

  The little girl screamed.

  Ethan ran.

  *

  Carrie’s heart was in her throat. She watched, helplessly as Ethan grabbed the child, narrowly missing getting knocked over himself. The collie crashed into Ashur and the two dogs tumbled end over end, knocking over some jumps, a mass of snarling jaws and tangled limbs.

  Women gasped, children cried.

  No! To have it all fall apart now, after he’d done so well, after Ethan had his audience eating out of his hand, it couldn’t happen. She knew the risk he’d taken in opening himself up for judgment like this.

  Whether he’d done it strictly for himself, or even a little bit for her, she loved him for it. And while he hadn’t told her about his past, she had no right to expect it. Since she hadn’t been upfront about her feelings.

  There was a chance he didn’t return them, of course. But it was a chance she was willing to take.

  Mars leaped out of the truck, where he’d been waiting for his own turn at the course, and streaked to the course, his head low, his eyes trained on the collie. Gun barked wildly from his crate and Carrie rushed over to keep him from hurting himself.

  “Easy, Gunny-boy!” The young shepherd quieted at her touch but Mars was with Ashur now, ready.

  The collie yelped and whirled, hackles up.

  “Oreo!” cried a kid, bursting through the crowd. “Oreo, get back here!”

  The collie ignored him. The kid, seeing the two bigger dogs, skidded to a stop and fell silent.

  Behind him, to Carrie’s shock, came Mayor Calloway, dressed in a loose t-shirt and khaki shorts. He pulled up short, breathing hard, his smile falling away, replaced with first confusion, then embarrassment, then rage.

  People glanced between the two men but Ethan, after handing the little girl safely to her father, focused solely on the dogs.

  “Ashur, Mars, here,” he called, slapping his thigh. “Beautiful border collie, son. Oreo, you said? I believe I’ve met him before. Not with you, though.”

  The boy nodded. “Uncle Clinton walks him for me sometimes.”

  “Ah,” said Ethan, tipping his head in the man’s direction. “Dogs, come.”

  The shepherds turned obediently but as they did so, the collie reached out and snapped at Ashur’s hindquarters. Before Ethan could say a word, Ashur had the smaller dog pinned on his back, squealing.

  Someone in the crowd screamed.

  “Control your dogs,” said Calloway, his lips thinned.

  Then, to Carrie’s horror, she saw Amanda’s son, Georgie, running toward the dogs, his mother two steps behind him, reaching frantically for his shirt.

  “Good doggies, Mama!” His little face was smeared with ice cream and wreathed with excitement.

  Ashur looked up, and in that second, the collie scrambled to his feet, wide-eyed and growling, his attention caught by the child.

  None of the adults were quick enough to intercept the child, but Mars was. He jumped in front of the collie, blocking the kid with his body. With a thump, Georgie landed on his diapered bottom and this time, instead of flanking the collie, Ethan’s dogs flanked the boy, circling him, their eyes on the collie, u
sing their herding instincts to keep the child separated from the threat.

  Oblivious to the shepherds, Amanda threw herself at her son, crying. The collie’s owner finally got within reach of his dog and grabbed for his dog’s collar. The dog snapped at him and he snatched his hand back.

  “Oreo!” The boy looked at Calloway uncertainly.

  “Bad dog,” thundered the mayor, his face incandescent.

  Ashur gave Georgie’s face a quick lick, then he and Mars stepped back, politely returning to Ethan’s side.

  Again ignoring the mayor, Ethan strode to Amanda’s side and helped her to her feet.

  “Is Georgie okay?”

  “I think so.” She stood unsteadily, with her son on her hip.

  “Good doggies,” said Georgie, waving at Ashur and Mars. Then he looked at the collie. “Bad doggie.”

  The crowd was murmuring. The tide had turned.

  Ethan turned to the boy with the collie. “Have you got him?”

  His tone was calm and respectful but there was no question as to who was in charge of the situation.

  The boy nodded. “I’m really sorry. He gets excited about Frisbee.”

  Gun whined and Ethan looked over at them. His eyes widened, and in that one moment, as their gazes met, Carrie saw his heart, raw and unfettered. They were too far away, and surrounded by people, yet they might have been alone together, holding hands, on a deserted beach.

  She couldn’t have spoken if her life depended on it, could barely breathe. Tears choked the back of her throat and she pressed one hand against her mouth.

  Everything she felt inside her, all the fear, all the uncertainty and insecurity, she saw all of it in Ethan’s eyes.

  But more than that, she saw yearning, longing. Hope.

  She pulled her hand away, shakily, nodded at him and mouthed the words, “We’re okay.”

  His face changed then, as if he understood what she wasn’t saying. It was I’m sorry and I forgive you and let’s start over and need and want and recognition and acceptance and relief and anticipation and everything they’d never talked about but were ready to now, finally.

  She nodded again. They were okay.

  Ethan turned back to the mayor.