Paws for Love, A Novel for Dog Lovers

by Dana Mentink

  “Will you…” He cleared his throat. “Misty, will you help me with something?”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  He led the way back into the house and up the stairs to the battered desk in his bare room. A new set of workbook pages lay there, the top one with handwritten words to practice.

  He took out a red construction paper heart with a picture glued crookedly in the middle. It was a shot of Fiona perched on Bill’s shoulders, holding firmly on to his ears. They were both grinning.

  “We’re making Valentines for the kids for next month, but Dina knows I usually need a lot more time to get mine ready, so she gave it to me early. I want to give it to Fiona before…” He fisted his hands on his hips and exhaled. “Before she leaves.”

  Misty found her throat was too constricted to answer.

  He grabbed a purple marker from a cup on his desk. “Could you write something for me?”

  Misty nodded, sitting down on the chair and uncapping the pen.

  “Write…‘Uncle Bill will always love you.’ ”

  Through a blur of tears, she wrote.

  Bill walked Fiona to school, each step feeling miles long. He sought out Dina and delivered the news.

  “Her aunt?” Dina said.

  He nodded. “Fiona is going to live with her.”

  Dina’s mouth widened in an O of surprise. While she struggled to hide it, he bent to kiss Fiona. “I’ll see you back at the shop when Auntie Catherine brings you home, okay?”

  By the time he’d straightened, Dina had herself under control, handing him an envelope, which he knew contained the next few words he’d asked her to help him master. Though there hardly seemed to be a point anymore, he took the papers and exited quickly.

  On the front step, he found himself immobile. He knew he should be hard at work preparing chocolates just in case some people arrived for the ill-fated festival, but he didn’t have the heart to go back there. The prospect of a long afternoon stretched before him, and he realized how he’d learned to schedule his day around Fiona. The preschool drop-off. Dinner preparation and bedtime ritual. They were the duties that defined and gave purpose to his hours. How precious it all seemed now that it was evaporating before his eyes.

  “Bill.”

  He blinked and discovered he was now standing on a corner, Misty idling next to him in a dented Subaru with Jellybean scrabbling at the rear window.

  “Isn’t that Gunther’s car?”

  She nodded. “He loaned it to me. I didn’t want to bother you about the van. I’m going to take Jellybean back to Ernest. Do you…I mean…would you like to come along?”

  “I’m not real good company right now.”

  “That’s okay. You know I’m no good at small talk anyway.”

  For some reason, Misty’s words brought a smile to his face. He climbed in, and Jellybean immediately launched himself from the backseat to the front and gave Bill a thorough tongue swabbing.

  “Man, this dog can’t decide who his owner is.”

  “I think that’s the problem. He refuses to be owned. That way he can love everyone the way he wants when he wants.”

  Bill sighed. “Must be nice.”

  Misty drove along, and they lapsed into an extended quiet. Soon she would be gone too, he thought. No Fiona to give his life purpose. No Misty to wrap his heart in joy. The scenery passed in a blur until they arrived in Twin Pines.

  Misty bought a cell phone and immediately checked her missed calls.

  “Two from Nana and none from Lawrence.”

  The whole hide-and-seek game with Lawrence seemed suddenly ridiculous to Bill. How small, how frivolous it was in the face of what he was losing. “Misty, did you really think you could save this whole Silver Screen Festival by bringing him back?”

  “No, not at first.”

  “What made you change your mind?”

  She considered. “You did.”

  “Me?”

  She didn’t look at him. “You saw something in me that I didn’t.”

  He stared at her in amazement.

  Pink blooms appeared on her cheeks. “That ‘shine your light’ thing. You made me want to do that.”

  And how he lived for that light, yearned for it, and grieved the loss of Fiona, of his pride, of Misty. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely. “I am very glad.”

  “And I wish I could do that for you.”

  There’s nothing left inside me to shine, he wanted to say. His brain did not work right, and now, in the time it took for Catherine to blow into town, his heart was beyond repair as well.

  He opened his mouth and then closed it. Please don’t say anything else, Misty. Not another word. He could not take it.

  Instead, she held out her hand and took his, the fingers squeezing, soothing, just being there, sharing space. Jellybean added his own fuzzy comfort, stretching out on Bill’s lap and laying his bony wedge of a head against Bill’s knee. Bill closed his eyes and settled back against the seat, allowing the bump and squeak of the old car seat to soothe him.

  The car ground to a halt, and he opened his eyes. It was two o’clock, and he automatically thought about Fiona. It was snack time, so she would be enjoying goldfish crackers and apple slices.

  You’re going to have to stop measuring your life in Fiona time.

  They piled out and knocked on Ernest’s door. No answer to the knocking or their calls.

  “What’s this?” Bill said. He picked up a note that was tucked under the doormat.

  “Sorry,” he read as he handed it to Misty. Sorry. Five letters, and he’d read them. A bitter victory. Sorry was right. Too little, too late.

  “It says he had to go take his sister in Redding to the hospital because she broke her wrist. He is staying overnight, and he won’t be back until tomorrow.”

  Bill looked at Jelly, who turned in a tight circle in an attempt to catch his tail.

  “Looks like you’re foiled again, Misty,” he said.

  Misty braced her hands on her hips and stared at Jellybean. “You’re harder to get rid of than a case of poison oak.”

  Jellybean rolled over for a tummy scratch.

  “Oh, okay,” Misty said, reaching for the wriggly belly. “But you’re going to have to get used to someone else giving you these scratches pretty soon.”

  Unperturbed, Jellybean closed his eyes to enjoy the moment.

  Oh, to be a dog, Bill thought. No regrets, no unmet potential. No cares about the loneliness of tomorrow. He sighed. It was time to return to Albatross and begin the countdown to Fiona’s departure.

  When they arrived back at the shop, Gunther immediately untied his apron. “Neighbor said Lunk’s busted out again. Gotta go find him,” he grumbled as he made for the door.

  The clang of the bells faded away. Bill stood in the empty store while Misty tied Jellybean to the lamppost. The silence was palpable. No more kid noise, the squeak of her rocking chair, the barnyard boogie music from her CD player. Just quiet.

  He tried to rouse himself. He had work to do, floors to clean, recipes to prep, yet still he stood there, steeped in the silence, paralyzed by it.

  Misty came close.

  “Are you okay?”

  He forced a nod. “Just realizing how different it will be when Fiona is gone.”

  Her face shone with sudden passion. “Why don’t you fight for her, Bill? You can be her parent. I know you can.”

  He let out a long, slow breath. “Isn’t that what being a parent truly is? Wanting the best for your child? Catherine can give her a better life than I can.”

  Even if he could finally tackle his illiteracy. Catherine had money, a home, his father’s blessing—everything a child could need.

  “But she thinks of this as her home, of you as her father figure.”

  “She’ll…” He cleared his throat. “She’ll forget that in time. She’ll forget about me.”

  Misty bit her lip between her teeth. Then she wrapped him in a hug, stroking his back and pressing
kisses on his neck.

  His heart thrummed a tune, and he marveled at how the world went away when he held her, the softness of her cheek erasing the bitterness, the brush of her hair stirring some warmth back into his soul, and he allowed himself to accept the comfort.

  “Bill,” she said, looking up at him, lips trembling. “I love you.”

  Time stopped ticking. He jerked, staring now at the red-blushed face looking up at his. She’d said it. He hadn’t been dreaming.

  This woman who could not face a roomful of people without breaking into a sweat had just bared her soul and lit a fire in his. “I love you.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and lost himself in her brown eyes. She loved him enough to see the man he was, not the man he couldn’t be. Could Misty Agnelli really be meant for him?

  Then the doubts rushed in, pushing back the joy and assailing him with practiced ease. He wanted to say, “I love you too,” but the words stuck fast, just like they always had, his snare, his ruin.

  “Misty, I can’t believe how blessed I’ve been that you stumbled through the door of my shop.”

  She smoothed the front of his shirt, smiling shyly. “Me too.”

  “But…” The brown eyes looked suddenly uneasy, and he hated himself for what he had to do. “I won’t let you confuse pity with love.”

  “I’m not confusing it,” she said.

  He put a finger underneath her chin and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Look at me.” His other hand traced the smooth perfection of her cheek. “Look in my eyes and tell me you don’t feel sorry for me.”

  “I don’t,” she breathed, but he saw the flicker there, the small waver of doubt that told him the truth. It hurt so much he almost couldn’t stand it. There was pity mixed in that love. Poor Bill. He would not make her say it aloud.

  “Misty, I will never forget you.”

  He felt her stiffen, forced himself to let her step out of his hold. She fled for the door.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as the door banged behind her.

  Twenty

  Misty lay in bed, watching the clock tick away the hours until five thirty a.m. Her mind replayed her incredulous admission to Bill.

  “Bill, I love you.” Her mouth had actually allowed the truth to gush forth. What was happening to her, and why in the world had she let it slip out?

  She loved him. And yes, while an element of pity was mixed in because he had just lost his daughter, her love was much more than that. But Bill would never believe it, and never again would she make a fool of herself in such a spectacular fashion.

  And that’s what happened when you stepped out, spoke up, and bared your soul. Way to humiliate yourself, Misty. The combination of Bill’s rejection and her own mortification made her want to hide under the bed again. She might possibly have tried it, except that Jellybean would have thought it a game, and she’d never get him calmed down again.

  As it was, he was hopping out of bed, nosing aside the trailer curtain in search of the first signs of dawn. There weren’t many, only raindrops chasing each other down the glass and a cloudy, gray sky. From far away came the chirp of some stalwart bird that wasn’t intimidated by the storm. Nutty bird, don’t you know your nest is the safest place to be? The twittering continued.

  A bolt of inspiration sizzled through her. Chirp. Bird. The sound in the background noise during her phone call with Lawrence. She sat up so fast her head spun.

  It could not be.

  She had to be mistaken.

  Five thirty a.m was far too early to make the call, but she made it anyway, receiving no answer.

  Jellybean was whining now, eager to go out in spite of the storm.

  “Oh, we’re going out, all right,” she snapped, tossing the covers aside. “We’re going to get Lawrence and haul him back to Albatross whether he’s done with his crisis or not.”

  She was flinging on clothes and charging for the door. Jelly turned in excited circles as they plunged into the rain and headed for Gunther’s house.

  He answered the door clad in flannel pajamas with one eye open. “What are ya doin’ here so early?”

  She explained, leaving out the part about why she was not about to ask Bill to use his vehicle, and he shoved the keys at her, probably just to get her off his doorstep. They were on the road, zipping through the rain and arriving at Nana’s Berkeley apartment in just over forty-five minutes. Misty pounded on the door in spite of the early hour. Inside she could hear Nana’s canary, Peepers, chirping away, as he had been during her phone conversation with Lawrence.

  Nana opened up. “Well, here’s the girl who never answers her phone. Do you know how many times I tried to call?”

  “There’ll be no small talk.” Misty held back the jumping Jellybean, fixing Nana with a hard stare. “You’re harboring Lawrence here, aren’t you?”

  Nana blushed. “Well, I would not actually use the word harboring. He was having a sort of crisis, you see, so I’ve been praying for him, and my friends have been too. I think we’re making inroads.”

  “Your friends?”

  “Yes, we’ve worked out a visitation schedule.” Nana winked. “They all want to see him, of course, so we keep strictly to the time limits. A big star like that, right here in our complex?” Nana shook her head. “But I made them all promise not to Tweet or put it on Facebook since Mr. Tucker is here in secrecy. And no Snapchatting—definitely none of that. Everyone loves him, and he’s been passing out boxes of chocolates, which didn’t hurt either.”

  “Why didn’t you leave me a message?” Misty wailed.

  “I was actually going to get a taxi today and come and tell you in person. Mr. Lawrence said phones can be tapped. I didn’t want to take any chances. We’ve almost got him convinced he should go back.”

  Misty resisted an eye roll, hauling Jellybean to the kitchen behind Nana, where she found Lawrence sipping coffee and munching on a bagel.

  His eyes lit up when he saw Misty and the dog.

  “Jellybean, my angel!” The dog leapt and pranced in joyful circles around Lawrence’s chair. “Well, look at that. He really did miss me,” Lawrence said, reaching to scoop Jellybean up.

  The dog skirted just out of his reach.

  “You can bond in the car,” Misty said. “I’m taking you back to Albatross.”

  “But I’m not ready,” he started. “I’m feeling—”

  “Listen,” Misty said, cutting him off. “You can have all the feelings you want later. Right now, you’re going to go back to save the day.”

  “I am?”

  “This is your moment, Lawrence. You have confused reality with your acting world for too long, but now is the time to be a real-life hero in your own story, not a made-up plot or a script.” She swept an arm in a grand gesture. “You have a chance to save a whole town.”

  Lawrence suspended the coffee cup in midair. “I do?”

  “Yes, so you’re going back.” Misty would have played an inspirational theme on her violin if she’d had it handy. “For Albatross and for Vivian.”

  “Vivian?” He grimaced. “I’m not sure I can do it.”

  “Yes, you can. And Jelly and I are going to help you. We’ll write your speech on the way.”

  “Speech? What speech?”

  “You’re kicking off the Silver Screen Festival tomorrow with a riveting talk.”

  “I’m not feeling at all riveting,” Lawrence said, brows drawn. “I think I should stay here and let Bett take care of me for a while longer. She’s very good at bolstering the soul.”

  Misty grabbed him by the elbow, eliciting an encouraging bark from Jellybean. “No more bolstering. Come on, Mr. Tucker. Time to let it shine.”

  The rain slowed to a patter by Thursday noon. Bill took Fiona to preschool along with some chocolate treats for the class, since the next day would be her last before the move to Georgia. He ignored the lurch in his stomach. Again, Catherine would be picking Fiona up from school and working on bonding with her. Bill
had packed Fiona’s suitcase. How was she feeling about the move? Bill had no idea.

  His feelings had seized up like ruined chocolate, and even working with his beloved peanut butter crunch filling did not revive him. What was there to do but move on to the next recipe and the next, to fill up Chocolate Heaven with as many sweets as he could to ease the bitter pain of losing Fiona? Vivian roared into the shop just as he was finishing dipping the handmade marshmallows.

  Her eyes were wild, and her normally neat hair hung loose about her face. “She’s gone. I can’t find her anywhere.”

  He was about to ask who until his brain kicked in. “Tinka?”

  “She ran out of the yard early this morning when I went out to dry the tables.”

  He was already hanging up his apron. “I’ll help you.”

  “Thank you,” she said, mouth twitching. “Um, I heard that Fiona’s aunt is here to take her to Georgia.”

  Bad news did indeed travel fast. “Yes.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think you would have been a great father.”

  He looked away. It was the second time someone had expressed confidence in his parenting. He felt an odd nudge in his gut. Maybe… No, it doesn’t matter, Bill. Sometimes love isn’t enough, remember? Hoping circumstances would miraculously change was grasping at straws, and he could not allow it. Catherine was right. “Thank you.”

  Though they scoured the town for a good hour, there was no sign of the spoiled dog. Vivian returned, despondent, to the Lady Bird, and Bill went back to his duties. He was surprised to see Gunther’s car speeding toward the film set. What in the world could the old man want there?

  Stifling his curiosity, he tried to while away the hours until six o’clock, when Fiona would return. Catherine had promised more ice cream and beach time if the weather cooperated. He hoped Fiona wouldn’t get a stomachache from all the treats.

  Another thing he would have to train himself to stop worrying about.

  Toby and Roger came into the shop in search of a snack just before closing time.

  “All set at the family fun area. Tank’s all shined up and ready. Never did get Misty’s car out, but we’ll just add it in for ambience.”