by Dana Mentink
Worry for the missing Sweetness made her restless, so she padded barefoot to the tiny stove. The door that separated the living room where Rhett slept and the kitchen was closed, but she tried to keep the noise down anyway as she fixed up a bowl of batter and heated up the frying pan. A pancake swimming with syrup would be just the thing to keep her awake until Sweetness returned. She breathed away a thrill of sadness as she fished out the new spatula Rhett had bought. As far as she knew, the one Sweetness had stolen was still hidden under her bed. The dog was neurotic, for sure. With an equal measure of cute mixed in.
She occupied her mind with pouring the most perfect circle of a pancake ever to hit a griddle. Ian used to make them in squares, just to be amusing, but she was not Ian. No one was.
She readied the spatula, scooping it under the pancake and flipping it. A few minutes later, she grabbed a plate and dished it up.
The door opened.
A black animal scooted through. A wolf? Something dangled from its mouth, a squashy mass it deposited directly on top of Stephanie’s bare feet.
Thirteen
Rhett was upright and running for the kitchen as soon as he heard the scream. He found Stephanie backed into the corner with the new spatula clutched to her chest. A dark-colored dog, which he finally realized was a filthy Sweetness, danced before her, grabbing playfully for the spatula.
“He came back,” Rhett said, master of the obvious. “He’s definitely got a thing for breakfast foods.”
“There,” Stephanie gasped, trying to both point with the spatula and keep it away from Sweetness. “That. What is that thing?”
He caught sight of the mass on the floor in his flashlight beam and approached cautiously. At first he thought it might be a very large rat. Two little ears poked out horizontally from a bony wedge of head. The eyes, filmy with cataracts, regarded him with the barest hint of consciousness.
Rhett peered closer. “I think it’s a dog. An old dog.”
“An old dead dog?” Stephanie whispered. “It’s awfully still.”
“I’m not sure.” Rhett bent toward the tiny sprawled creature. Sweetness darted over and gave the limp mass a vigorous licking. The creature twitched.
“Nope. Not dead.”
He gently pushed Sweetness away and grabbed a towel from the cupboard, easing the animal onto the cloth. He sat with the thing in his lap, examining. “It’s a girl. Small and no collar. Skin and bones. Starving, it looks like.”
“How awful. Sweetness must have found her in the bushes.”
“Somewhere muddy for sure. We should wash her off and try to warm her. Can you heat some water?”
Stephanie stood frozen for a second longer, and then she came to life, pouring water into a pasta pot, moving the frying pan to a pad on the kitchen table, and putting the pot with water on the burner. Sweetness took this as an invitation. In a flash he was paws up on the tabletop, snatching up the pancake off the plate and ripping it into bites. He shoveled down the food with gusto.
“Sweetness!” Stephanie snapped. “You have the absolute worst manners.”
Sweetness gobbled the pancake down to the last piece. Then he carried the remaining bite over to the bundle in Rhett’s lap, gently plopping it onto the towel. When there was no reaction from the little dog, Sweetness poked her with his nose.
Finally, a tiny pink tongue snaked out and gave the pancake a feeble lick.
Sweetness barked and then returned to his station to scour the plate clean. He looked at Stephanie, who bit her lip.
“Oh, I’m sorry I said that about your manners, Sweetness,” she whispered, “you darling thing.”
Rhett felt an unexpected moisture in his own eyes.
He stared at the pitiful animal and the piece of pancake offering.
Compassion. That’s what it looked like from souls with no personal agenda, nothing to gain, and only the desire to comfort. He prayed with all his might in that moment that what he was witnessing was a pale reflection of God’s compassion. For the bad. For the broken. For the sinner. For Rhett. He kept his gaze riveted on the sick dog, unwilling to show his maelstrom of feelings to Stephanie.
“The water’s warm,” she announced quietly in a tone that made him think she’d known exactly what he was feeling. She tested it with her elbow after setting the pot down on a towel on the floor.
“One of the ladies I know in the Chain Gang does this to test the bathwater for her grandbabies. Elbows are apparently like weird thermostats or something. I think the temp’s okay.”
“You belong to a group called the Chain Gang?” he said, momentarily distracted from his mission.
“They’re knitters who like to read. They meet in an amazing little bookstore. Long story.”
He eased the dog into the water, carefully holding her face above the surface. Her stringy hair floated in ragged bunches, but she didn’t move. He felt a sense of dread. Stephanie sponged away the grime. They were both surprised to discover a cream-colored dog under the mire, no bigger than one of Rhett’s expensive running shoes and not nearly as heavy.
“Poor, poor baby,” Stephanie crooned. “She’s emaciated.”
Sweetness, having finished hoovering up all the pancake crumbs, trundled over to look into the pot. The little dog struggled to lift up her head to meet the massive nose. Sweetness slurped a sandpaper tongue over her face.
Rhett lifted her out and wrapped her in a dry towel. “I think I saw a can of soup among the groceries you bought. We could try that. I don’t think she could eat anything solid.”
“Chicken and Stars,” Stephanie said. “Nature’s perfect food.” She found the can and poured a tablespoon full into a bowl and added a little water. “How are we going to get her to drink it when she can’t hold up her head?”
He had no idea.
“Wait a minute.” She ran upstairs and returned quickly with a cotton ball from her supplies. He was not sure what mysterious functions women performed with cotton balls, but he had to admit they were useful things as Stephanie first soaked one in water and held it out to the dog. She dabbed it on the little pink tongue and the dog swallowed. Another swallow of water, and then Stephanie switched to soup. It was probably no more than a few drops before the animal put her head down and closed her eyes, exhausted.
“What are we going to do?” Stephanie said. “She looks so sick.”
“I’ll find a vet hospital close by, and we’ll take her tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “Correct that. Today, when things open up.”
He caught her amused look. “It’s practicality, not compassion. We don’t know how to take care of a dog in this condition.”
“Whatever you say,” Stephanie said. “Let me hold her.”
“Compassion?” he teased. “I didn’t think you were a dog person.”
“I’m not, but someone has to give Sweetness a bath, and that is not going to be me.”
Rhett looked at Sweetness, who gave an enormous ear flap that sent speckles of grime all over the room. He sighed. “This is going to be a nightmare.”
Stephanie laughed. “Character building.”
He was proved right when he closeted Sweetness in the minuscule bathroom and applied the dog shampoo Agnes had left at the gas station. In a matter of ten minutes, dog and man and bathroom were soaking wet, but at least Sweetness had returned to his natural color and most of the muck was drained away.
He rubbed and buffed the dog, who whined as if he were being rolled in barbed wire, until he was mostly dry. Releasing Sweetness from the bathroom, Rhett changed again, this time opting for workout clothes. He found Stephanie sitting in the padded living room chair, cradling the dog.
“I think we should call her Pancake. Panny for short.”
“Don’t get attached,” he said. “She’s pretty ill.”
“I am not getting attached. Everything should have a name, shouldn’t it?”
He held out his hand for the bundle, and Stephanie gave her over. “I wrapped her in another dry to
wel. We’re going to need a laundromat pretty soon because that was the last clean one.” She stifled a yawn. “I’m going to bed. What a night. Goodnight, Rhett. Goodnight, little Panny. Come on, Sweetness.”
The dog scampered up the stairs ahead of Stephanie, and then he barreled down again almost immediately with his spatula clamped between his teeth. They watched in amazement as he pranced into the living room, waiting expectantly for something.
“Bedtime. Let’s go.”
The dog wriggled his hind end.
“It looks like he wants to stay down here with you,” Stephanie said.
Rhett gaped. “There’s not enough room for two on this couch.”
Sweetness gave a cheerful bark and sat.
“Well, you all have a good rest,” Stephanie said as she drifted up the stairs. He suspected she was laughing.
He tossed a blanket on the floor for Sweetness before he lay down on his side on the sofa, Panny curled up next to his stomach.
“You’re a lot of bother, you know,” he whispered, folding the towel around her so her face was unobstructed. Her tiny button of a nose twitched.
Sweetness dragged the blanket next to the sofa, sniffed Rhett and Panny, and then flopped down, his girth knocking the sofa with a thud.
“And you’re a lot of bother too,” Rhett added.
Sweetness began to snore.
The morning came unnoticed, and it was almost ten before Stephanie cracked an eye open due to a wave of hot breath on her face. Sweetness loomed large, tongue at the ready, but she squealed and pulled up the covers. “Go away, dog.”
Surprisingly, he did.
After another short doze, she dragged herself out of bed and into the cleanest of her thrift store clothes, and then she tiptoed downstairs.
Rhett was dressed in workout pants and a sporty zip-up sweat jacket. He handed her a plate with a cheese omelet. “I’m not sure the stuff you bought is actually cheese, but it was the closest thing. There’s a vet hospital about a half hour from here where we can take Panny.”
She took the plate. “Where is…”
“I took Sweetness out this morning, keeping him on a leash this time. He’s had his kibble.”
“But where…”
He flapped his hands. “Eat. We need to get moving.”
She put a bite of the omelet in her mouth. “Where is Panny?” she got out when he handed her a cup of coffee.
“She got cold.”
“Uh-huh.” Stephanie noticed Rhett’s jacket was bulging out in the middle. “Do you have her inside your jacket?”
“Like I said, she was cold,” he said breezily. “Are you going to eat your omelet or not?”
She did, watching in wonder as he cleaned and secured the trailer with Panny snuggled inside his jacket like a kangaroo baby. Wisely, she did not comment, but she did file the crazy fact away in her heart.
You’re not the gruff guy you pretend to be, Rhett Hastings.
They were wheels up at ten fifteen, and Rhett made good time in getting them to the animal hospital. Sweetness took one whiff of the air as they got ready to go in and promptly turned into a mass of jelly, whining, pawing the ground, and putting on the brakes until Stephanie agreed to wait outside with him.
“Not very mature, Sweetness,” she scolded. Realizing his reprieve, the dog recovered quickly and dragged Stephanie toward the nearest bush. The sky was a vibrant blue now, the storm gone and temperatures warming. She did some mental calculations. Thursday travel day, Friday in Oregon to pick up Karen, Saturday Washington, and then a stone’s throw to Eagle Cliff.
She wished Agnes was a normal person with a phone. She would be relieved to know her beloved mutt was safe. And Stephanie would be thrilled to hear her say something along the lines of “Thank you, the manuscript is waiting, and oh, by the way, I’m insisting your boss put your name first on the door.”
It surprised her that in the wake of Rhett’s fall and their midnight dog adventure that she’d temporarily forgotten to worry about the manuscript. She remedied that by breathing deeply and dialing her cell phone.
It was almost two o’clock in New York. Her boss would be in his immaculate office, fussing over his perfectly groomed houseplants and sipping an afternoon cup of Earl Grey tea. Thursdays were dress-down day for Niles Klein, which meant he was wearing a necktie instead of a bow tie. He answered before the first ring had died away.
“Ms. Pink. How is the weather on the rugged West Coast?”
“Settled now, but it’s been storming like crazy.”
“I see. How fortunate. I believe there is an ongoing drought.”
“That’s the rumor.” She tried a preemptive strike. “Mr. Klein, I will be at Agnes Wharton’s house in a matter of days.”
His tone was light and airy. “Color me perplexed. I understood you were to make the exchange two days ago, Ms. Pink.”
“Yes, er, there was a slight problem.” Not slight, she thought as she watched the dog pounce on and fail to capture an insect.
“Ah. And the problems abound here too. I have heard the Jackson Agency is putting out feelers to acquire the manuscript.”
“They can’t!” she blurted. “We have an agreement.” If a business could be an evil nemesis, the Jackson Agency would be exactly that to Klein and Gregory, the agency that had signed her fickle fiancé. Lex Luthor to their Superman. Moriarty to their Holmes.
“My dear Ms. Pink,” Klein said, every syllable serrated and clear. “We have a verbal agreement, and you know that in the publishing world that means precisely nothing.”
Her heart squeezed. If the Jackson Agency got to Agnes first, would she hand over the manuscript to punish Stephanie for not returning Sweetness quickly enough? Surely not. That would be cruel even for a woman like Agnes. “I’ll pick up that manuscript soon. I promise.”
“Of course you will,” he said. “I have faith in you, Ms. Pink, and you would not let this agency down. Goodbye.” Stephanie stowed her phone, her body all over prickles. It had been a good half hour since Rhett had gone inside the animal hospital. How long could it take to examine a dog no bigger than a trade paperback?
Finally, Rhett emerged, Panny in one arm and a bag in the other. He nodded curtly to her, and they climbed back into the truck.
“What did the vet say?”
“She’s old, probably around twelve or thirteen, and starved, just like we thought. He says people often abandon elderly dogs rather than pay for their care.”
She shuddered. Horrible. “Did he think she can get well?”
Rhett kept his gaze out the window. “I told him I could save her.”
“But what did he say, Rhett?”
“He was negative and arrogant. I didn’t like him.”
His tone was low and menacing. She suddenly imagined what business adversaries felt like sitting across conference tables from this man.
“Okay. Personality aside, what was his prognosis?”
“He advised me to have her destroyed.”
“Oh, no!” Stephanie gasped.
“I told him I could save her, and he basically said I was wrong. Nobody tells me I can’t do something.”
Stephanie reeled. It was Rhett Hastings and his ego against the doctor and his? “So…what are you going to do?”
“They gave her some IV fluids, and I have some antibiotics and special food.” He snapped on his seat belt. “I am going to make her well.”
His expression was stony with determination. Stephanie looked at the old dog. Her stomach ached thinking about how long Panny must have lain in the bushes, unable to move, slowly starving to death. Was she in pain? Suffering? Was it cruel to try to save her life? “Are you sure, Rhett? Maybe it’s kinder to follow the vet’s advice.”
His jaw clenched. “Sweetness brought us this animal, trusting that we’d help her, not have her destroyed. Bottom line, I can fix her. It’s just a matter of patience and stubbornness, and I’ve got plenty of both. Now buckle up and let’s get moving.”
She moved Panny closer to Sweetness so the sick dog would gather some warmth from her pal. Sweetness snuffled her all over, leaving traces of drool on Panny’s face, which she didn’t seem to mind. It was as if he wished to sponge away all the remnants of Panny’s visit to the doctor who had no hope for her. You go, Sweetness.
Stephanie checked her watch. Eleven thirty. She mentally recalculated her priority list.
Save Panny’s life.
Meet Karen.
Stop at the apple orchard.
Return Sweetness.
Get the manuscript.
It seemed the plot line had been revised. Again.
Though the panicked need to get to Washington still bubbled inside her, Stephanie tipped her head to the sunshine and felt the warmth deep inside. The dogs seemed to feel it too, stretching to catch the rays beaming through the windshield. There was no worry about tomorrow in these two. For now they were together, comfortable and warm, and that was enough. She tucked the blanket around Panny and gave Sweetness a scratch on his well-padded side. His lips curled into what looked very much like a doggie smile.
We’ll have you home soon, Sweetness. And what a story we’ll have to tell Agnes.
Fourteen
They passed into Oregon at sundown. Stephanie crawled out of the truck and stretched while Rhett hooked up the trailer—at a campground this time. He said it was so Stephanie could have a hot shower, but secretly he craved one too. His back was still aching after the tumble off the roof, and he didn’t want Panny to spend the night in a cold room. It felt luxurious to be able to flip on the lights and set the heater on low to combat the evening coastal chill. Stephanie scurried off to run some laundry through coin-operated machinery.
