Paws for Love, A Novel for Dog Lovers

by Dana Mentink

  “Hey there,” Dina said to Bill after she greeted Fiona. “Don’t you owe me some paperwork?” The last part came out softly so the other parents wouldn’t hear, but there were none nearby anyway. He swallowed.

  “No. I appreciate all your help, but I don’t think that’s going to work out.”

  Dina gave him a stern look, which he’d seen before in many other instructors. Do they learn that in teacher college? he wondered. “Yes, it is going to work out, Bill. I contacted a friend in the Adult Literacy Project, and she’s sending me some materials more appropriate than what I’ve got. It will work if you give it time.”

  “Thirty-five years isn’t enough?” he snapped, instantly regretting his tone. What was he doing sniping at people right and left? “I’m sorry. Please forgive my big mouth. You were kind to try and help. I’ve gotta go. Lots of prep work to do.”

  He felt her eyes on his back. Quitter, they seemed to say. You are a disappointment to me.

  Join the gang, he wanted to say.

  His father.

  His brother.

  Fiona.

  Misty.

  He’d let them all down. Could be it really was time to quit, to finally grow up and face the music. The music did not seem nearly so sweet now that Misty was leaving.

  The weight of her departure pressed down on him, slowed his gait until he finally arrived at the grassy expanse that paralleled the main road. This was just the spot, according to the committee, for the Silver Screen family fun area. The field gradually sloped down to a copse of eucalyptus trees and a sandy path that led in twisty fashion toward the ocean. The vision was that folks would tour the movie site, stop in town, spend lots of money, and enjoy the family fun area before taking in the finest beach Albatross had to offer. Presumably, they would then drive home and encourage their friends and family to drop everything and visit the following weekend.

  What could possibly go wrong with that plan? he thought morosely as he watched Roger and Toby climbing on the tank they had somehow acquired for the event. It was an impressive sight, perched on the grass, backlit by the buttery winter sunshine like a giant metal insect.

  “Hey, Bill,” Roger called out. “Can you help unload the boxes from Toby’s truck? Need another set of muscles.”

  Muscles he could do. Waving, he set off toward the top of the hill where Toby’s truck was parked, the tailgate down. He heaved a heavy wooden crate out of the back just as a car, Misty’s car, pulled to a hard stop next to him. He gaped as she leapt out, clutching her cell phone and closing the door with her hip to prevent a madly barking Jellybean from escaping. He stuck his muzzle out the partially opened window and barked even louder. Misty put a finger in her ear and pressed the phone to her head.

  Bill was awash in confusion, embarrassment, and a small measure of elation to see her there. She didn’t come to see you, Woodson.

  “Hold on. Putting you on speaker.” She looked wildly at Bill. “It’s Lawrence,” she mouthed, moving a few paces away from the car as she punched the button.

  Bill put down the crate and followed.

  She held the phone between them.

  “Lawrence, where in the world are you?” Misty said over the barking.

  “Is that my Jellybean? I have been in mourning without that little animal. Is he missing me, do you suppose?”

  Misty eyed the dog, who was now clawing at the glass.

  “Sure, he misses you. Now answer my question, please. Where are you? We’ve been looking all over.”

  There was a long silence, punctuated by a chirp. “That isn’t important.”

  “Actually, it is,” Misty said. Bill heard the strain in her voice as she tried to stay in control. “You need to come back here. Right now.”

  A loud sigh from the other end of the phone. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m filled with angst, Misty.”

  Bill almost smiled at the expression on Misty’s face.

  “There’s plenty of angst going around here too,” she said, her mouth tight. “Mr. Wilson is going to shut down the film if you don’t return by Friday. Did you know that?”

  Lawrence gasped. “So it’s come to this.”

  “As a matter of fact, it has,” Misty said. “And there are nice people working on that film, and here in Albatross there are more good people”—Misty flicked a glance at Bill—“who are depending on that movie for their livelihoods.”

  Bill was grateful that perhaps Misty still counted him as one of the good people. It was something he could hang on to after she departed from his life.

  “It is regrettable and tragic but unavoidable,” Lawrence was saying. A warbling sound came from the background, like a twittering bird. Nice that the guy was enjoying a park somewhere while Albatross was going bananas in his absence.

  “No,” Misty said through gritted teeth. “It is not unavoidable. You need to come back right now.”

  “I am not emotionally centered.”

  “You’re an actor,” she spat. “Pretend you’re centered.”

  Bill did not hide his grin this time.

  “It’s not as easy as all that,” Lawrence said. “I am a complicated man, and I find myself mired in regret. The years I’ve wasted…”

  “Look,” she said in a gentler tone, “I know you’re having a hard time. Parts are difficult to get, and maybe you feel a little bit lonely without…I mean…without a wife or girlfriend.”

  “Or friends,” he said quietly in a tone that had lost its grandness. “I have no friends either, except for Ernest.”

  “And me,” Misty said after a deep breath. “You have me.”

  A long pause. “Ulterior motives. You’re just trying to get me back to the set.”

  “I’m trying to get you to own up to this situation,” she said. “Come back. Meet your commitments. Talk to Vivian. Face the things that seem insurmountable.” Again her glance flicked to Bill. Her cheeks reddened, and he felt his stomach tighten.

  “Who will help me?” Lawrence said, voice thin and almost childlike.

  “I will,” she said after a breath.

  “Why? Why would you do that?”

  “Because that’s what friends do.”

  She looked so strong in that moment, with the wind setting her hair dancing, the light of determination reflected in her chocolate gaze. Bill knew it was not her natural tendency to step out on a limb, into a scary place of uncertainty. He marveled that women were so strong in that quiet, resolute way that was often unseen and unnoticed. Women were the glue that kept families together, and that took more strength than any brute muscle could provide. If Misty had been faced with illiteracy, she would have conquered it. The thought made him look away in shame.

  “You didn’t choose to be my friend,” Lawrence said. “You were hired.”

  “Well, I’m choosing to be a friend now. When you said God made me to let my light shine, maybe He wanted me to shine it on you.”

  Silence. Bill’s own heart beat thunderously loud in his own ears. “Face the things that seem insurmountable.” With Misty? Had God meant for her light to shine on his darkest shame? For one brilliant moment, hope lifted up inside him, buoyant and beautiful.

  But the burden would be too heavy as the days went by and he saw no progress, no change, no future. She needed a successful man. Someone like Jack. He studied his scuffed boots as the quiet ticked on.

  “That is…remarkable,” Lawrence said.

  “I guess it is,” Misty said, a quizzical smile on her lips. “Now please, Lawrence. Come back to Albatross. We need you here.”

  “Ah, I am very sorry, my new friend, but it is not possible.”

  She blinked. “Yes, it is. I will come and get you wherever you are. Just give me the address, and Jellybean and I will hit the road right this minute.”

  “Dear sweet, naive Misty, I am so sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Then don’t,” she said. “Where are you?”

  “I feel as thoug
h it is a million miles away, as if I’m steeped in another world.”

  “Tell me your location here on planet Earth,” she snapped. “Street name, city, latitude, longitude, whatever.”

  “I must go now.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up, Lawrence Tucker!”

  “Goodbye, Misty.”

  She white-knuckled the phone. “I mean it, Lawrence. I’ve hiked up and down the coast and interviewed taxi drivers and pried magic wands from your dog’s mouth, not to mention the fact that he ate all my pencils and peed on the doormat.”

  “Misty…”

  “I have had enough of playing the detective, chasing you like some nutty terrier. You need to tell me where you are right this minute!”

  Misty and Bill heard a sudden series of noises as Jellybean whirled around the front seat in a blur of black. The window buzzed down when a paw or nose found the button on the door panel, and in a flash Jellybean hurtled from the car and leaped for the phone in Misty’s hand. The surprise attack knocked the device free and sent it on a spiraling trajectory away from the car.

  With a cry, Misty dove after it, looking frantically on the ground several yards away, where the phone had come to land. Bill joined her as they pawed through the tall grass.

  His foot kicked the buried phone and sent it tumbling.

  “Here, here!” he yelled, scrambling as he finally got the thing.

  She clutched at it. “Hello? Lawrence? Hello? Are you there?” Her face went slack as she perused the screen. “It’s dead. The screen is crushed. And he didn’t even tell me where he is.”

  They stared at each other, and Bill tried to think of something helpful to say.

  He’ll call again? Uncertain.

  We’ll find him somehow? We? He could not be Misty’s partner in this escapade, not anymore.

  You should just go home and forget about the whole thing.

  But the cost of that decision would be disastrous for Albatross and for Chocolate Heaven.

  While he rifled through the ideas, he gradually became aware of shouting from the bottom of the slope. They turned in unison to see Misty’s VW rolling madly downhill, Jellybean chasing merrily behind.

  Misty finally understood the saying “frozen with shock.” For a good fifteen seconds, she could only watch in horror as her car began to edge away, tires rotating faster and faster, plowing through the patchy grass. By the time she commanded her feet to start working and run after the escaping vehicle, Bill was already in hot pursuit, legs churning as he sprinted to catch up, hollering out a warning.

  Misty added her own. “Look out!” she screamed as the men working on the tank leapt out of the way. The car was heading right for the enormous metal monster.

  Her stomach dropped to her feet. It was going to happen right before her eyes. Her car was going to ram straight into the historic tank that someone had gone to great trouble to borrow. Would it damage the tank or shred her car into unrecognizable shrapnel? Both or either would be disastrous. Breath heaving, legs struggling for balance on the uneven ground, she ran as fast as she was able.

  She passed Roger, who had dived out of the way, his mouth open so far she could see a wad of blue gum glistening inside.

  The front fender narrowly missed a card table, tearing down a poster board sign that read “Buy Tank Tickets Here.”

  “Sorry!” she yelled to the shocked woman holding a roll of masking tape. Faster and faster the car barreled on, closing the distance.

  No, no, no, she thought. This cannot be happening. Just when she thought the collision was imminent, Bill caught up with the runaway car and yanked the driver’s side door open.

  Half in, he cranked the wheel, which caused the car to start on a new trajectory away from the tank.

  Yes! she said silently, since she had no more breath left to spare. Now he would be able to get a foot on the brake and stop the thing. Relief flooded her senses, but only for a moment.

  Before he got his legs in the front seat, Bill stumbled, and the vehicle outstripped him, gaining speed as the slope steepened.

  Bill and Misty and the sprinting Jellybean continued in hot pursuit until all three pulled to a stop, gasping for breath. The car rolled the last few yards and shot out of view down the steep grade.

  Three seconds later there was an earsplitting crash.

  Lungs burning, calves quivering, Misty forced herself to stagger to the edge and look down. On the grass near her feet was the rearview mirror, which had gotten shorn off and catapulted backward. Her car was wedged sideways between two eucalyptus trees, the rear tires spinning. The only consolation was that the trunk seemed to be relatively intact, so maybe, just maybe, her precious violin had escaped destruction. No, she thought ruefully, that was not the way her life was going at the moment. Her instrument was probably a twisted wreck of spruce wood and steel-core strings. Why not? The car was wrecked, Lawrence was holing up in some mystery location, and she could not seem to escape the town where she did more harm than good.

  Bill seemed to sense her thoughts. Without a word, he made his way down to the wreck and reached into the squashed interior, popping the trunk release.

  She held her breath while he rummaged around, returning with her beloved instrument and her duffel bag.

  “Uh, the violin looks okay,” he said. “Much better than the car, anyway.”

  They stood in silence as the festival helpers came skidding to a stop next to them.

  “Wow,” Toby said. “You couldn’t have got that car stuck between those trees if you tried. Incredible.”

  Roger whistled, and the card table lady shook her head, still trailing a strip of sticky tape. “You’re going to need a special kind of tow truck to uncork that thing. I’ll call over to Twin Pines for you and see if they can help.”

  Revived by the sight of the violin and hopeful for a song, Jellybean sat up and barked.

  The shrill noise snapped Misty out of her reverie. “You,” she said, glaring at the dog. “You ruined my car.”

  Jellybean cocked a listening ear.

  “You caused me to lose track of Lawrence again.”

  The dog ran a pink tongue over his nose.

  “You don’t deserve a song or biscuit or anything else.”

  Jellybean snaked his tail back and forth in a playful arc, happily indifferent to the chaos he had just created.

  “Jellybean Tucker, you are a canine wrecking ball!”

  Jellybean rolled on his back and offered his tummy for a scratch.

  It was all too much. She cradled the violin case with trembling fingers, resting her head against the hard side. How she wished the earth would suck her up in one mighty gulp, whisking her away from all the people who now stared at her, alternately shaking their heads and marveling at the wreck.

  Misty began to sob, her tears dampening her violin case. She could see through her hysteria that Bill was uncertain. After a moment more of hesitation, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. It was a gesture she should not have accepted, but she found she did not have the power to move away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’m not who you want to see right now, but at least I can give you a hug, right?”

  No, she wanted to say. You can give me no such thing, Bill Woodson. Instead, she put her forehead onto his shirt and sobbed for all she was worth.

  Eighteen

  Bill stayed with Misty. It seemed the right thing to do in spite of what had happened between them. He could not walk away and leave her there with a crushed car and a terror of a dog. So Bill stayed, embracing her until she was out of tears, and tried to talk through some practical next steps regarding tow trucks and rental cars.

  When the tow truck driver arrived, he let out a hearty guffaw and announced they would need a bigger rig, which would not be available until late the following day as it would have to be dispatched from yet another town.

  “In my opinion you ought to just leave it there,” the driver said. “Could b
ecome a tourist attraction. You never know.”

  Misty did not appear to see the humor. She sat cross-legged in a patch of shade, staring gloomily at her crushed car, her violin case in her lap. Bill wanted desperately to comfort her, but his was not the support she needed. At least he could give her a ride, so he offered to escort her back to Chocolate Heaven and drive her back to her trailer after he stopped to fetch Fiona.

  She didn’t seem eager about the arrangement, but at least she hadn’t outright declined. What’s more, she allowed him to collect Jellybean, though the looks she shot at the dog were venomous.

  “It’s like he wants to destroy me, to keep me prisoner here in Albatross,” she muttered.

  I should thank Jellybean for that, Bill thought, recalling that it was the naughty dog who brought Misty into his shop in the first place. Painful though it was to consider what he’d lost, he would always be grateful that he’d gotten to know her.

  After the preschool pickup, Fiona was thrilled to find Jellybean in the backseat of the van and immediately set to work scratching him in all the places that made his eyes roll in pleasure. Jellybean seemed not the least contrite for the disaster he’d caused. Bill admired his ability to hold on to the positives in life. An idea dawned.

  “You know, I was thinking,” Bill said.

  Misty continued to stare ahead, drumming her fingers on the violin case.

  “It seems like Jellybean might not be a good fit for your apartment, and he causes all kinds of trouble in Albatross, so what about Ernest?”

  She glanced at him. “Ernest?”

  “Yeah. He owned Jelly for a while, and the dog gets along great with Gumdrop and Jujube. Maybe he’d take him back for you.”

  A smile spread across her face. “You think he would?”

  “You could call him and ask,” Bill said.

  “That’s a great idea,” she said. “Why didn’t I think of it?”

  He would have offered a funny remark if things were different, but his good humor was at an all-time low, so he fetched the phone from his glove box and handed it to her.