For Love of a Dog

by Janice Carter

  “That is his name, sir. What do you think he’s done?”

  “Got into my henhouse and killed three of my layers, that’s what he’s done.”

  Kai stared at her feet, unable to look at Bryant. Amigo had clearly been somewhere and up to something that morning. But she didn’t like to believe he’d killed hens. Chased them, maybe, if they were loose. He’d never seemed aggressive toward their own chickens, but then she’d always made sure he never had a chance to meet them up close.

  “When we’re out in the fields, Amigo’s either tied up or in the house. And when Thomas is here, Amigo hangs out with him. We keep track of him.”

  “I saw him with my own eyes!” Bryant’s voice rose again.

  “Killing them?”

  Kai marveled at the steadiness in Luca’s voice.

  The question gave Bryant pause. “No. But he was definitely there, running around the henhouse.”

  “Were the hens that had been killed still inside the pen or outside?”

  “What difference does it make?” Bryant frowned.

  “Simply that if they were inside, then perhaps some other animal burrowed into the pen and killed them. If it had been Amigo, wouldn’t he have taken one of the hens with him?”

  “Who knows? What are you getting at?”

  Lewis blustered, but Kai knew he was running out of steam, as Harry might say.

  Luca gave a casual shrug. “Just putting forth another scenario. Obviously Amigo was on your property when he shouldn’t have been, and I apologize for that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. As to the hens, I’ll be happy to reimburse you for the loss.”

  “It’s not the money.”

  “Of course not, the principle is what matters.”

  Bryant pursed his lips. “Absolutely,” he said and opened his car door, pausing to add, “Just make sure that dog stays on your land.” The warning was directed at Kai.

  “Oh, one last thing, Mr. Lewis,” Luca said, stopping him before he climbed inside. “Do you own a shotgun?”

  “Of course. Most farmers do. What’s it to you?”

  “Did you shoot at Amigo?”

  The hesitation was the answer.

  Luca went on. “Because if you did, I’m asking you never to shoot at him again. Settle whatever needs to be settled with me, not my dog.”

  Lewis broke eye contact first, getting into the car without another word.

  As he drove back to the highway, Luca muttered, “There goes our afternoon.”

  The remark puzzled Kai as she watched him walk toward the field to resume planting. What was the connection between the scene with Bryant and going into town? It always seemed to be all or nothing with Luca Rossi. Why?

  CHAPTER TEN

  TWO HOURS LATER Kai noticed Luca from the kitchen window, limping toward the bungalow. He’s been pushing himself all this time, maybe in some pain, just to help me out. When did you get so self-centered, Kai Westfield, that you haven’t been noticing this?

  On the other hand, who asked him to play the martyr? Couldn’t he simply have told her he needed a break from the planting? The man was frustrating, and she wondered if she’d ever unravel all the complicated layers that seemed to make up Luca Rossi. Does it even matter? He’s here to help and bless him for that. What else do you need from him, Kai Westfield?

  Kai put the jar of peanut butter away and finished off the rest of her sandwich, hovering by the sink as if awaiting another Luca sighting. She tossed the knife she’d used into the sink, disappointed that their trip to town was definitely off. When he’d mentioned the idea, she’d felt some excitement. Spending an afternoon in town and getting to know more about Luca was exactly what she needed. Plus, she welcomed the break from what the farm had become for her—a place of hard work, domestic chores and the stress of dealing with a child whose communication was so basic she might as well have been alone all these weeks.

  Thoughts of Thomas took her back to the morning and his dark mood. Right. She’d planned to call his teacher. Thumbing through her mother’s address book for the school’s number, she sat at the table, pulled the wall phone’s receiver over and dialed.

  “Lima Elementary, Sandra speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Um, I’m calling about my nephew—Thomas Westfield. I think his teacher is Miss Munro and wonder if I could speak to her. My name is Kai Westfield. I believe my name is down as a secondary contact next to my mother, Margaret Westfield.”

  “Please hold, Miss Westfield.”

  After what seemed ages, a pleasant voice spoke. “Hi, this is Karen Munro. I’m glad you called, Miss Westfield. I was planning to do so myself, later today or tomorrow. Can you come and see me? I have a break at the end of the day, around 2:30, if that works for you.”

  Kai’s hand tightened on the receiver. “Has something happened?”

  “Well, Thomas hasn’t been having a good day, but I think his behavior is a result of some other issues in the class. I don’t want to alarm you, but it’s best we talk in person. I’ll get Thomas in for the discussion, too.”

  Kai closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt a quick jolt of self-pity followed by another of guilt, ending with a wave of compassion for her troubled nephew. “I’ll be there, 2:30.” She held onto the receiver a second longer, resting it against her forehead and thinking how easy life had been in New York. No delinquent dogs to manage and no teacher meetings about a troubled child.

  * * *

  LUCA POPPED TWO painkillers with a second glass of water and shuffled to the kitchen table with his ham sandwich, cautiously easing onto a chair. He’d been foolish, pushing his knee to the limit day after day without a real break. His physiotherapist had warned him that too much pressure could lead to inflammation and possibly a buildup of fluid. At first, Luca had iced and elevated every night in bed, but his knee had seemed so much better over the weekend that he’d let the routine slip. Then two straight days of planting, getting up and down from the tractor and bouncing in the seat as he rode back and forth across uneven ground, and now he was toast.

  When he’d driven the tractor and seed drill back to the barn after finishing up, he could hardly move. Kai might have been expecting him for lunch, but the end of that scene with Bryant Lewis had drained him. It had been a long time since he’d dealt with such anger from any adult, especially a civilian. It had taken every bit of his self-control to keep from engaging. By the time he’d plowed his share of the fields, the pain was so intense he could scarcely speak. He knew there was no way he could handle the drive to town, much less be the social companion such an outing demanded.

  It was ridiculous, he thought, this reluctance to reveal any kind of weakness. When he was leading his men in Afghanistan, he’d needed to be seen as invincible. Or at least impervious to pain and fear. But now he was a civvie, and ordinary people could admit to pain, couldn’t they? Unless they also suffered from the kind of foolish pride that Luca suspected he had.

  He downed the sandwich, grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and headed for the sofa in the living room. He propped his left leg up on cushions, and placing the towel-wrapped ice pack on his knee, sank back, closed his eyes and let the painkillers take charge.

  * * *

  KAI SAT IN the school office reception area waiting for Thomas’s teacher. She had a sudden flashback to being ten, trembling with fear while her elementary school principal called her mother after she’d talked back to a teacher.

  Miss Munro breezed into the office several minutes after the recess bell. Thomas lagged behind her, his eyes downcast. Kai felt a pang of sympathy for her nephew.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Westfield.”

  Kai shook her hand, her stress level diminishing under the teacher’s friendly smile.

  “We can use the principal’s office,”
she said, leading them around the reception counter.

  Kai sat in one of the three chairs opposite a large desk. Thomas perched on the edge of the chair beside her. He still hadn’t made eye contact with Kai, but she reached out to take his hand in hers and gently squeezed it. His teacher swung the third chair around to face them.

  “Let me say, first of all, that Thomas is a delight in the classroom. He responds quickly to questions and instructions and always completes his work. I’m very happy to have him as a student.”

  Thomas raised his head at this. “Thank you,” Kai said. “And he’s the same at home, too.” She squeezed his hand again. When he looked at her, she saw that he’d been crying.

  “There was a minor altercation at recess yesterday. A scuffle, really. Some pushing and shoving involving Thomas and another boy in class who says Thomas started it. I’ve asked Thomas to write down what happened, but he hasn’t. I’m still hoping he might.”

  At that, Thomas removed his hand from Kai’s. “Thomas?” Kai asked. He shook his head. Some of the frustration she’d felt dealing with his moods the last few weeks surged through her. She pursed her lips. “I’ll talk to him about it when we get home.” She started to rise, anxious to leave.

  Miss Munro held up her hand. “There’s a bit more, but I won’t keep you too long. A friend of Thomas’s—Robyn Patterson—told me he’s been bullied by this same boy and a couple of others in class. I haven’t got to the bottom of the bullying—I just heard about it late yesterday—but I plan to. And Thomas...” She turned to him. “I want you to know that I will do something about what’s been happening in class and in the playground.”

  Thomas nodded.

  “Thank you, Miss Munro, and please call if there’s any more trouble. Let me know if I can do anything.”

  “It’s best if the school handles these things, Ms. Westfield, but if you can get Thomas to write about it...”

  “Of course. We’ll talk about that, won’t we, Thomas?” At least I will, she thought, fixing her eyes on her nephew, who merely shrugged.

  “Before you leave,” Miss Munro went on, “Thomas’s book review is due tomorrow. He’s been working on it in class and I think he’s almost finished, aren’t you, Thomas?”

  Another nod.

  “Thomas can choose to present his work along with the other students, or to hand in the written report.”

  Kai knew which option he’d likely choose.

  “The theme this term is animals and what they do for us. We’ve been talking about search and rescue dogs, and I’ve been reading true stories about cats, dogs and other animals that have helped people in all kinds of situations. Some of the students will be bringing in pets. If Thomas has a pet, he’s welcome to bring it, too. We’ll be starting shortly after morning exercises. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk about that, too,” Kai said, standing to leave. “Thanks again for helping Thomas.”

  “Just doing my job,” the teacher replied. “And I’ll call or send a note home with Thomas after I’ve resolved everything.” She looked down at Thomas. “Why don’t you take him home with you now? It’s almost the end of the day.”

  “Certainly. And hopefully Thomas will write something for you.” They shook hands, and she led Thomas out into the hallway. “I’ll wait here for you while you get your backpack.” He turned away with a shrug and headed down the hall to his classroom.

  A jumble of thoughts swirled through her mind. Bullying. How long has he been keeping this to himself? Would he ever have let me know if this incident hadn’t happened? In spite of her reassurances to the teacher, Kai had zero experience dealing with these types of issues. She had no clue where or how to begin.

  When she spotted Thomas slouching his way toward her, her sudden thought was comfort. He definitely needed it, and so did she. “I thought we’d take a drive past the Tasty New bakery on the way out of town. Get us a treat for dessert tonight. You up for that?”

  He glanced up, eyes brightening.

  On the way back to the farm, their cookies and brownies safely stashed in the rear of the pickup, Kai had another thought. She recalled Miss Munro’s comment about the class presentations on pets and rescue animals. By the time she turned off the highway, her idea had become a plan.

  * * *

  THE KNOCKING STOLE into his dreams, tugging him out of a world he never dared enter when awake. The past. Flashes of brilliant light, screams, the pounding of rushing feet and the distant whoop of helicopter blades. He shot up, disoriented, in a darkened room. Familiar but not quite. Luca blinked, rubbed his face and slowly came back to the present. He saw the limp ice pack on the floor and the empty water glass on the coffee table. Right. Painkillers and a long nap. The knocking pulled him from the sofa and to the front door.

  He was still thinking in slo-mo, so it took him a moment to register first Kai, then her red cheeks and lastly, the plate she was holding.

  “I’m so sorry, Luca, for disturbing you.”

  He forked a hand through his hair. “No, no, it’s okay. Come in—please.”

  She hesitated at first, but stepped into the living room. He noted her take in the bottle of painkillers on the coffee table and the ice pack on the floor.

  “Are you okay, Luca? Just that, I wondered if you’d overdone it the past two days. With your knee.”

  He closed the door behind her and followed her into the room. No limping now, thanks to those painkillers. She sat on the edge of the sofa and he took the chair.

  “Been baking?” He tipped his head to the plate of cookies she set on the table.

  She smiled. “Hardly. Thomas and I popped into a bakery in town.” She paused, adding, “He needed a treat today.”

  “How come?”

  “He was involved in a scuffle at school. I’ve just come back from a meeting with his teacher.”

  When she took a deep breath, Luca realized she was trying to calm herself. The flushed face when she was standing in the door might have nothing to do with you, Rossi.

  “What happened?”

  “Apparently a couple of boys in his class have been bullying him. There was some kind of scuffle yesterday involving Thomas and one of the boys.”

  “Was he hurt?”

  “No, thankfully no one was hurt.”

  “I suppose he never said anything about the ongoing problem?”

  “Do you need to ask?”

  “No, you’re right. Just thought the incident might have...you know...broken through his silence.”

  “I’m beginning to think nothing ever will.”

  He heard the catch in her voice. She was staring at her hands, clenched in her lap, and it took a moment for Luca to realize she was crying. He sat still, wondering what to do. He’d never been good at dealing with emotional scenes. His mother had easily summoned tears for any occasion. Whether Kai’s tears were genuine or not, the urge to get up and leave was overwhelming. Except that he was in what was—for now—his own place. There was no escape.

  “It’s just not fair.” She sniffed, then dabbed her eyes with a tissue she’d removed from her shirt pocket. “He’s gone through so much. First losing his mother, when he was only five years old! Then finding his father crushed beneath the tractor. It’s no wonder he doesn’t talk to us.”

  Luca half listened, considering other options since walking out the door wasn’t one of them, but the lull felt awkward. He wanted to comfort her, even take her into his arms, but worried how she might interpret that.

  Luca struggled a moment longer with the dilemma, then eyed the piece of paper on the coffee table. “By the way,” he abruptly said, reaching for the paper. “Before I forget, here’s that phone number. For Brian Boychuk. The veteran?”

  “Oh, thanks.” She tucked it into her shirt pocket, then squeezed the d
amp tissue with both hands, looking across at him with red and swollen eyes.

  Suddenly, Luca couldn’t bear the scene another second. He went to the sofa, sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The move seemed to surprise her as much as it did him.

  She leaned against him, ducking into the place between his shoulder and chest. His hand began to tingle, but he didn’t want to let go of her. He still hadn’t grasped what had happened and yet didn’t want to change any part of it.

  After a long moment, she whispered, “I feel so bad for him. Putting up with mean comments for months. No wonder he sometimes didn’t want to go to school.”

  “We’ll fix it,” he murmured, brushing away the strands of hair falling across her forehead. “I don’t know how, but we’ll help him.”

  She raised her head. “We?”

  “Maybe I can talk to him.” He wasn’t sure where that impulsive offer had come from, but it was sincere. He had no idea how to get through to Thomas, but he did have some experience with childhood bullying at the boarding schools he’d attended.

  “His teacher told me the class is having presentations tomorrow about service dogs and how animals help people. Some kids are taking their pets in for part of it, and Thomas doesn’t have a pet except for Amigo...but I was thinking...perhaps we could take him in and tell the class about how Amigo saved your life.”

  We? Luca wondered if he was hearing her right. Not the part about taking the dog to school—that was her business—but saving his life? That story was his, and he wasn’t keen on sharing it with a bunch of kids. “Take Amigo if you like. But as to the story, it really is mine to tell and I’d rather not.”

  She pulled away from him, and he could tell from the way she swept her hand across her face and tugged at her shirt collar that she was upset by his response. She rose from the sofa, refusing to look at him. Luca braced himself for more tears, but instead she headed for the front door. She hesitated there, then turned around. Despite her red-tipped nose and swollen eyes, she was lovely.