Kai placed a hand on her mother’s forearm. “Let’s not rush this, Mom.”
Margaret’s response was checked by a guttural roar from Harry, his eyebrows knotted together as he glared at them. “Yes, dear, I know we’re taking too long,” she said. Then, inhaling deeply, she turned to Kai. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
But her smile didn’t fool Kai. The battle over Amigo had merely been deferred.
Hours later, long after her parents had driven away and Kai had loaded the supper dishes into the washer, she sagged onto a kitchen chair and let out a long sigh. Her plans to return to Brooklyn once her father had come home from the hospital had been shattered by the news of his admission to the special therapy program in Columbus. She’d put her career on hold for the past month looking after Thomas, and now she was faced with an additional four to six weeks, depending on Harry’s progress. The fight between her frustration over this unexpected turn and her sense of family duty—something she’d been shirking in her pursuit of career—had made for restless nights the past week.
Thomas was upstairs, getting ready for bed. She’d had a talk with him, mainly about his grandparents’ trip and how important the rehab would be. “We hope Grandpa will be his old self again, Thomas,” she’d said. “Keep your fingers crossed.” He’d stared solemnly at her before crossing his fingers. Then he’d surprised her with a good-night hug.
She was exhausted, not so much from the minimal housework she’d done after her parents left, but from the strain of dealing with her nephew.
At the same time, the last few weeks had brought her closer to Thomas. In the past, when she’d come home for occasional family gatherings, he’d been the cute little boy she’d presented with gifts. Her visits had never been long enough to get to know Thomas as a person. She regretted not taking more opportunities to deepen her relationship with her nephew, and especially with David and his wife. Those chances were gone, but at least she could try to make up for it by being with Thomas now.
He’d be going back to school tomorrow, allowing her time to tackle her own work, which she’d been postponing for days. Her first weeks back on the farm had been spent driving back and forth to the hospital in Lima, and getting both Thomas and Amigo used to her and to each other. She’d sent off her photos of the innovative architecture of Kuwait City to the magazine that commissioned them and managed to go through her email, feeling some angst at having to turn down two promising contracts. The downside of freelancing was that declining too many jobs could lead to a lack of offers. Word inevitably got around that you were off the radar. Eventually, the opportunities dried up.
She’d spent time every day maintaining contacts, keeping up-to-date with various job possibilities she’d read about online or heard about from Alice and Scott, college friends who shared studio space with her in Brooklyn. They ran an online magazine about urban design and style trends and sometimes collaborated with Kai on special projects.
When she’d first arrived home, she’d sent an email to Corporal McDougall informing him that she’d been unable to deliver the dog but that he or Captain Rossi would be welcome to arrange a pickup.
So far that day hadn’t come, though she’d received a reply shortly after. He said he’d sort things out when he was back stateside and thanked her for her trouble. Since then, nothing. Now she realized the handover of the dog to McDougall or someone else wasn’t likely going to happen. Perhaps that was a good thing. Lately, the highlight of her day was the grin on Thomas’s face when Amigo jumped on him as he stepped off the school bus. She was loath to see that grin—a small bit of happiness in his day—vanish.
Kai reached for her iPad to check her messages once more before looking in on Thomas, whose light should be out by now.
As soon as she opened her inbox and read the latest message from Alice, she knew the evening wasn’t going to be as relaxing as she’d expected.
Hey, Kai. Hope things are okay there in Lima. Just want to give you a heads-up. Had a phone call from that soldier you were telling me about—McDougall?—to say he’s just come home on leave. He’s planning a visit to the guy you were supposed to deliver the dog to but said he wanted to talk to the guy first before filling you in on the latest. Maybe he’ll take the mutt off your hands. Let me know the latest—things are fine here. Scott’s off on assignment again.
Bye for now,
Al
Kai read the line again. Maybe he’ll take that mutt off your hands.
Not if I can help it, was her first thought. The upside of her parents’ stay in Columbus meant she had time to convince them that the dog was a good thing for Thomas. She mulled it over for a long moment, composing her message to Corporal McDougall, and then began to type.
* * *
HE COULD STILL CANCEL. Unpacking the SUV would only be a minor inconvenience. He saw his mother hovering inside the front door, hand at the base of her throat as if she were forestalling an imminent collapse of her airway. But he knew that although this road trip no longer had a purpose, he had to do it anyway. Had to get moving and out of the house. Assert his independence. Stop feeling sorry for himself. Be a man again, as his father would have said.
Decision made, he waved again to his mother and gingerly climbed into his newly leased SUV, avoiding bumping the steering wheel shaft with his left knee. By the time he was on the highway, the initial disappointment he’d felt reading McDougall’s email had changed to resentment. He had no idea what kind of person this Kai Westfield was, nor did he care, but what sense of entitlement allowed her to claim property that wasn’t hers to claim? Who was she to foil all the hard work and trouble his squad had gone to, simply because she felt Amigo had “settled in,” as McDougall had reported? He’d chewed over the contents of that message several times by the time he reached the state line. “Settled in” be damned. Luca pointed the SUV west and headed for Lima, Ohio.
* * *
MARGARET WALKED OUT of Harry’s room in the rehab center, her cell phone tucked into the crook of her neck while she dried her hands on a paper towel.
“We’re just about to go down for dinner, Kai. Let me call you back.”
“But I told Tony I’d let him know about the seed drill rental. He’s got a list of people, and the sooner I get on that list, the sooner I can organize the planting. After I get the fields turned over, of course.”
Margaret heard the frustration in her daughter’s voice but distance muted it, minimizing the problem. Compared to Harry’s ongoing recovery, the farm was trivial. What did it matter whether the fields got turned over or even planted? Harry had been talking retirement for the past three years right up to David’s death, when everything in their lives—even the farm—had come to a standstill.
“You decide then, dear, if you really want to go ahead with this.”
“Well, I’ve already posted some flyers in town for help. I guess I just wanted confirmation from you that Dad would be okay with it. What would he want?”
Margaret closed her eyes, fending off the urge to scream. “Who can say, Kai? Your father barely speaks.” Much less acknowledges my presence, Margaret wanted to add. When he wasn’t going through his exercise regimen, Harry seemed content to sit and stare into space. Most of the time Margaret felt a part of the general landscape of the hospital, no more meaningful than one of the generic framed prints scattered on the walls. She sometimes wondered why she bothered visiting every day, but quickly dismissed thoughts that only served to heighten her own frustration. Besides, she felt that were she to return to the farm, Harry might never rally.
“But—”
“Look, Kai. You’ve helped with enough spring plantings to know what to do. If you choose to go through with it this year, follow the usual routine. Heavens, go see Bryant next door if you need any advice.”
“Dad would disown me!”
“Right now h
e’s not doing much of anything, so I think you’re safe.”
There was a moment of silence. Margaret pictured Kai counting to ten.
“All right. I’ll see how things go. If I can make it happen, I will. For Dad. I think he’d be pleased. And I’m not going to contact Bryant unless I’m desperate.”
“Whatever you think is best, dear. I’ll give you a call at the end of the week. Oh, and by the way, have you managed to get rid of that dog yet?”
Another pause. “Um, not yet. But I’m working on it.”
She knew her daughter well enough to guess what that cryptic answer meant, but pushed on. “You saw how upset your father was. Just seeing another dog around the farm brings it all back.”
“Well, it’s interesting that Thomas hasn’t had the same reaction. And he was there that day, too.”
“Your father blames himself. It’s different.”
“But that’s the point, Mom. He doesn’t need to. It was an accident. A crazy, freak accident that no one could have prevented, and there’s no point in having this argument all over again.”
The pitch in Kai’s voice told Margaret to drop it. “Do what you can. Please.” She disconnected before Kai could respond. Then, dabbing at her eyes with the paper towel, she summoned a bit of a smile and walked back into Harry’s room.
“Ready to go for dinner, honey? I think it’s shepherd’s pie tonight.”
She looked down at her husband and the grimace on his face. Well, she thought, some of those facial muscles are coming back, anyway.
* * *
IT HAD BEEN a good morning. Thomas had boarded the school bus without the usual long face or foot-dragging. They’d established a routine now that obviously pleased him. Kai and Amigo accompanied him to the county road and waited for the bus, which always signaled its arrival with three horn beeps. As the bus door opened, Thomas bent to pat Amigo before ascending, paused at the top of the steps to wave goodbye to Kai, then proceeded to his seat. She had recently noticed that he’d begun to sit beside someone. This was a good sign, she decided, and an obvious improvement over his slouching shuffle to the back of the bus to sit by himself.
Before the accident, Kai had gathered, Thomas had had two playmates visit the farm several times, and he’d been to both of their homes. But after Thomas stopped talking, the boys no longer wanted to come. According to Margaret, though, Thomas had improved from the totally withdrawn child he’d been in the first weeks following his father’s death. That was due, in large part, to seeing the psychologist.
But Kai had expected to see more progress on her return to the farm. The Thomas she’d known on her sporadic visits home just wasn’t there anymore. Like her father. She felt herself tearing up and took a deep breath. Losing it now would do no one any good. She whistled for Amigo, who was snuffling through the tall weeds in the roadside ditch.
Walking back to the house, Amigo trailing behind, Kai reflected on how much the place had changed since she’d left home at eighteen to go to college.
The first few years the changes had been gradual. After David’s marriage to Annie, his high school girlfriend, and his decision to stay on the farm, Harry had a bungalow built for them on the property. It was understood that David and Annie would take over the soybean operation once Harry retired. Then he and Margaret would switch with the younger couple, moving into the smaller house and letting David take over the farmhouse. At least that had been the plan until Annie’s cancer diagnosis, when Thomas was five. That was the moment, Kai figured, when everyone realized life followed its own course. In the months after Annie’s death, no one had imagined that more tragedy was in store for them.
She stood at the end of the gravel lane, surveying what was left of the Westfield family farm. Fifty acres, where once there had been two hundred. When Annie started her cancer treatments, Harry and Margaret began selling off parcels of land to help with medical costs. Most of the acreage went to Bryant Lewis, who had been pestering Harry for years to sell. But the sale had widened the gap in their childhood friendship, and David’s accident had ruled out any chance of a reconciliation.
Amigo bounded past her, knowing where she was headed. By the time she reached the chicken pen, he was waiting patiently.
“You can look as innocent as you want, my friend, but there’s no way you’re getting anywhere near those hens.” Growing up on a farm left one with few illusions about the animal world. Kai knew even a family pet—not to mention a dog like Amigo, with his mixed pedigree and life as a stray in Afghanistan—could not be trusted in a henhouse. She shooed him aside while deftly slipping through the door into the pen. The proximity of the dog had sent the hens flapping to the rear, which gave her a chance to get into the coop.
She took the eggs into the house, leaving Amigo sitting by the pen. When she’d first brought him home, she’d kept him on a leash for several days. She’d known nothing about his personality and didn’t want to risk his running off, especially onto Bryant Lewis’s property. But he’d eventually figured out the range of his new territory and kept to their lot. Perhaps some instinct told him the land beyond the wire fence was off-limits, and Kai hoped he’d never stray there.
Midafternoon there were still no responses to the ad she’d posted on the town’s website. It had been a week since she’d told her mother she was going to start the planting, and so far she’d had no replies to her ad. Perhaps a few more hard copies tacked up in obvious locations around town would help.
Noticing the forlorn expression on Amigo’s face as she headed for the pickup changed her mind about leashing him to the clothesline pole. She whistled once and he trotted toward her, tongue already lolling in anticipation of open-window breezes.
* * *
DRIVING SOUTH FROM an overnight motel stay in Toledo, Luca wondered why he’d never been to Ohio. Never had a reason to, likely, but the countryside beyond the city limits was lovely. Expanses of farmland gradually took over from suburban sprawl. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen great tracts of arable land. Certainly not in Afghanistan, where the predominant colors were shades of brown, flecked with occasional splashes of green. He forced his mind away from the comparison. Part of his reason for this road trip was leaving all that behind. Advice from the psychotherapist he’d seen surfaced. Be mindful. Don’t bury the past. Look at the memories and then bring your mind back to the present. Luca hadn’t been a good candidate for mindfulness.
It wasn’t long before he spotted the Welcome to Lima, Ohio, sign. He’d set up the GPS but hadn’t used it, preferring an old-school road map. Population about 37,000. A nice size. Big enough to escape bumping into the same people every day but not too big to feel lost.
There had been a time when he’d liked the feeling of anonymity in a metropolis. Growing up in the suburban enclave of his family home had been restricting. The same kids went to the same private schools, played tennis at the same clubs, summered at the same exclusive camps.
When he’d graduated from the college chosen for him by his parents in a course he’d chosen in an act of rebellion for a future he hardly gave a thought to at the time, he couldn’t wait to leave Newark. Enlisting in the army had seemed the best option for escape, and his parents’ strong objections had merely solidified his resolve. But signing up for a second tour of duty had turned out to be the worst decision he’d ever made.
Luca caught himself before opening that particular memory door. Here and now, he reminded himself. He was in Lima. All he had to do was get Amigo. He’d work out the rest of it—short-term and maybe long-term goals—on the way back to New Jersey.
* * *
KAI WAS UNLOADING groceries when she noticed a swirl of dust approaching the farm. She wasn’t expecting anyone, unless someone had spotted her ad and decided to come out to the farm instead of emailing. She set the bag back onto the seat of the pickup and called Amigo. He came
running from around the back of the house. She pointed to the truck, feeling a bit guilty about tricking him into thinking another ride was in the offing, and closed the door behind him after cracking one of the windows. The likelihood of Bryant Lewis popping in for a spontaneous visit was slim, but just in case, she didn’t want Amigo out in the open.
The mini-tornado of gravel and dirt blew into the yard. Whoever was driving hadn’t had the sense to slow down. It took a moment for Kai to see, through the settling dust, a black SUV lurch to a halt right behind the truck. She coughed, wiping her eyes, and hoped the driver wasn’t looking for a job. If so, he’s fired.
The driver’s door flew open, but it seemed to take forever for a tall man to extricate himself from behind the wheel. When he did, he paused for a moment, holding the door frame. Despite the blue jeans, checked shirt and ball cap, Kai knew at once he was from a city much bigger than Lima. The pallor of his face and the way he squinted when he took off his sunglasses told her he hadn’t been exposed to much sunshine in a while. When he moved toward her, she saw that he had a slight limp. His jaw seemed tense. Feeling pain, she wondered? As he drew closer, she realized that, at some point in time, he’d been a fairly attractive man. Now he looked just plain unhealthy.
“Can I help you?” She didn’t smile and heard the lack of warmth in her voice. Not the traditional greeting for folks around Lima, but there was an air of something suspicious about him. Amigo must have sensed something, too, for he started barking.
Her tone stopped the man. He took off the ball cap, exposing a head that had been shorn in the not-too-distant past. She couldn’t tell exactly what color his eyes were, but they looked tired. In fact, he looked like he could use a good night’s sleep. Or several.
He was about to say something, but Amigo’s barking became almost frantic—a keening howl she’d never heard the dog make.
“For heaven’s sake,” she muttered, grasping the door handle. The dog leaped from the truck and raced for the man, circling around and around him, jumping up and nipping at his hands.
For Love of a Dog Page 4
