St. Francis Society for Wayward Pets

by Annie England Noblin

  I sucked in a breath of cold air so quickly that I thought my lungs might freeze. I dropped the bolt cutters and squinted into the dim light my phone provided, at the windows of the house next to the tree. It took me a moment to realize that the voice was coming from the street.

  I bent down to pick up the bolt cutters and looked up to find Abel Abbott staring at me, his hands shoved lazily down into his jeans pockets.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded.

  “What are you doing here?” he shot back.

  “I live here,” I said.

  “I was out on my porch when I heard noises coming from this lot. I was afraid someone was trying to break into your house,” Abel replied. “But I can see now it was just you and that dog making all the noise.”

  “She’s hurt,” I said, pointing the bolt cutters at the dog. “And I think she’s been abandoned. I couldn’t let her suffer. I was trying to cut the chain, but these damn bolt cutters don’t work for shit.”

  I handed the bolt cutters over to him and took hold of the chain, so he could get a better grip. It took a couple of tries, but eventually I heard the snap of the chain.

  I pulled lightly on the chain, and the dog stood up and followed me. I hurried up the steps. We burst through the door in time to see Sherbet disappear into the laundry room.

  I looked down at the dog; I was still holding the chain she was attached to. “Oh my God,” I said. “What kind of an asshole padlocks a dog to a porch?”

  “Someone who’s desperate,” Abel replied. “I recognize this dog from the other day. I’m sure the man thought he had no choice.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said. “How can this even be in the column of choices?”

  Abel stepped inside and closed the door. “We need to get that chain off from around her neck,” he said.

  I looked down at the dog. She was staring up at us expectantly, and the wounds around her neck were even more apparent in the light. “Okay,” I said. “Can you do it with the bolt cutters?”

  “I think so,” he said.

  I knelt down on the floor next to the dog in the most soothing manner I could muster. “It’s all right,” I said to her. “Nobody is going to hurt you.”

  She licked my face, and in a second, it was over. The huge chain fell to the floor and the dog, sensing she was now free, flopped down on the floor and rolled over on her back.

  “What kind of dog do you think she is?” Abel asked. He scooted the chain over to the wall with his foot. “Maybe a boxer?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. She’s bigger than a boxer.”

  “True,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Well, whatever she is, what am I going to do with her?” I asked, plopping myself down on the floor next to her.

  “I think we better clean her neck up a bit,” Abel said.

  “The chain really did a number on her,” I replied. “I don’t understand why someone would just move off and leave their pet.”

  “If she was chained up outside, she wasn’t treated like much of a pet,” Abel said. “Do you have a washcloth?”

  “I think so.” I stood up and padded to the bathroom and opened up the cabinet. I pulled out a washcloth and wet it with warm water. “Will this work?”

  Abel took the washcloth from me and patted it around the dog’s raw neck. “I think you’ll need to take her to the vet,” he said. “She may need an antibiotic or something.”

  “Oh, I can’t keep her,” I said.

  “You may have to,” Abel said. He handed me the blood-soaked washcloth. “Unless you’re going to turn her loose in the streets.”

  “I’m not going to do that,” I said. “I figured I’d take her to the shelter tomorrow.”

  “They’ll euthanize her if nobody comes for her after three days,” Abel said. “And if you found her tied up on your porch, nobody is going to be coming for her.”

  I felt my pulse tick up a notch. I hadn’t considered that. I hadn’t considered anything, really. I’d just wanted to get the dog out of the freezing cold. I was looking down at her, the way she was wagging her tail and looking up at me as if to say, “Thank you,” and I knew that I couldn’t just take her to the pound and leave her.

  “I can’t let her die,” I said finally. “I guess I’ll find a vet tomorrow and take her.”

  “Dr. Langley at the Timber Creek Animal Clinic is good,” Abel said. “I told you about her earlier, at my house that night. She’ll get you right in.”

  “Thanks,” I replied. “I guess I might as well empty what’s left in my bank account.”

  Abel cocked an eyebrow, but he was too polite to say anything, and I felt my face warm at my outburst. He glanced around the house. “I haven’t been here in a long time,” he said. “It still looks the same.”

  “Annabelle wasn’t much of an interior decorator,” I replied. “Most of her possessions consist of yarn and books.”

  Abel walked over to the table and picked up the copies of his books I’d placed there earlier that day. He turned them over in his hands. “I forgot I gave these to her,” he said. “It’s been so long ago.”

  “I found them on her bookshelf,” I said. “What you wrote on the inside was nice.”

  “She was a good woman, Annabelle,” Abel said.

  “That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

  He handed the books to me. “Are you angry with her?” he asked. “For all of this?”

  I shrugged. “If I say yes, then I’m speaking ill of a dead woman,” I replied. “If I say no, then I’m lying.”

  “What are you angry about?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Lots of things.”

  Abel nodded. “I can see how you would be.”

  “I have good parents,” I said quickly. “I have a nice family. I really couldn’t have asked for anything better. I don’t know,” I finished. “It’s complicated.”

  “Nearly everything is.”

  We looked at each other for a long moment before the dog licked my hand, and I realized we’d gone from friendly conversation to awkward silence. I cleared my throat. “Well, uh, thank you again,” I said. “For helping me. I’d probably still be out there if you hadn’t stopped.”

  “I have a feeling you would have figured it out,” he said. He bent down and gave the dog’s head a scratch. “Listen, about last night . . . I, uh, well, I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?” I asked. “I kissed you, remember?”

  “But I didn’t stop you,” Abel replied. “And I should have.”

  I felt my chest tighten. “It’s okay. I should have stopped myself.”

  “It’s just that I’m not looking for a relationship or anything right now,” he said. “And I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

  I rolled my eyes. “It was a kiss, not a proposal. Besides, I feel the exact same way. I just got out of a relationship, and it wasn’t a good one. The last thing I need is to be getting involved with someone else.”

  “With that baseball player?” A hint of a smile played on his lips.

  “Has everybody seen that damn video?” I asked, raising my hands up to the ceiling. “I wish whoever posted that to YouTube would just die in a fire already.”

  “Well,” Abel replied. “For what it’s worth, it’s really his loss.”

  “It doesn’t feel that way,” I admitted. “But I appreciate you saying it.”

  “Shit outfielder, too.”

  “Well, that much is true.”

  Abel shifted on his feet. “So, friends, then?”

  “Absolutely,” I replied, sticking out my hand. “Friends.”

  “Good night, Maeve,” he said, releasing my hand.

  “Good night.”

  I followed him to the door and locked it behind him. When I turned around, Sherbet had reemerged and was sniffing around the dog. The dog, in turn, was on her belly, attempting to lick Sherbet. I watched them for a bit as they danced
around each other and then headed off to the bedroom to change into my pajamas. To my surprise, the dog followed me, her entire body wiggling anytime I reached down to pet her.

  “How could anyone leave a sweet girl like you out in the cold?” I asked her.

  She licked my hand, and I sat down next to her for a while, petting her. She settled down in my lap, and I rested my hand on her head. This had absolutely been one of the strangest days of my life. I’d hoped that staying here would give me some time to rest and figure out what I wanted to do with my life, but so far, I had more questions than I had answers. I knew that Abel was probably right about just being friends. It had been stupid for us to make out in public like teenagers, and apparently people had seen it happen. Despite the glimmer of excitement I’d had coursing through me all day, I wasn’t ready for a relationship either.

  I stood up and left the dog asleep on the floor. I took a shower and pulled on the pajamas I’d been wearing for the last few nights, making a mental note to wash them the next day. When I settled down into the bed, I pulled out the knitting needles and practiced the stitch I’d learned. I fumbled around for what felt like an hour before I finally got the hang of it. I could understand why Annabelle and her friends found knitting soothing. For a while, at least, I didn’t think about anything except making a slingshot.

  The next time I looked up, both the dog and the cat had somehow managed to jump up on the bed without my noticing.

  “What are you two doing?” I asked them. “I didn’t invite you up.”

  They looked at me expectantly, their eyes round and pleading.

  “Fine,” I sighed. “Go on. Get comfortable.”

  The dog settled in at my feet and Sherbet nestled himself on the extra pillow beside me. In a matter of days, I’d gone from being completely alone to being responsible for two lives. I decided not to tell either of them about the fact that I’d once killed a cactus in college. Besides, it hadn’t really been my fault. Holly kept moving it around the apartment, and I kept bumping into it on my way to the bathroom in the middle of the night. If anybody was to blame, it was her. She’d bought the damn thing.

  “We’ll go get you a harness and a leash tomorrow,” I said to the dog. “And some food. And I guess whatever we need to make your neck better.”

  At my feet, the dog began to snore, and I put my knitting away and scrunched down into the covers.

  I began to mentally calculate how much it was going to cost and wondered if Florence might give me an advance on my first paycheck. I’d spent nearly a hundred dollars on food today, and there was no way I could ask my parents for money. They’d already bailed me out enough as it was, and even though I knew they’d help, I also knew my mother would tell Kate. That was the absolute last thing I wanted.

  I lay back and listened to the rhythmic breathing of the two sleeping animals on my bed, thankful that we were all three warm and safe in our borrowed bed. I lay there for half an hour before switching on the light and navigating myself around the animals in an effort to get out of bed. I padded back into the dining room and retrieved one of Abel’s books, his autobiography, and poured myself a glass of water.

  I set the water on the nightstand and slid back into bed, opening the book to chapter 1: “When Winter Comes.”

  Annabelle

  June 1984

  ANNABELLE SIGHED AND SAT DOWN ON ONE OF THE metal chairs in the break room. In the month since graduating from high school, she’d been working nearly every day at the pillow factory, the early shift, and sometimes the late shift if she could manage it. She’d been saving her money, as much as she could, for an apartment.

  After William was fired, he’d showed up and caused a big scene with Billy, right in the middle of the production line. The foreman fired Billy on the spot, and since then, he hadn’t been able to find any work because of his record. He’d been couch surfing for weeks, and Annabelle was starting to worry about some of the people he was staying with. They threw big parties all the time, and Billy didn’t like her to go, and Annabelle knew why.

  She was afraid he was using again.

  She had other things on her mind too, things she didn’t want to say aloud, afraid speaking about them would make her fears a reality. She wasn’t sure how things had gotten so complicated so fast, but all she wanted to do was sink down into a bed—any bed—and sleep for days at a time. She was so tired. Some nights she fell asleep before dinner and didn’t wake up again until a wave of early morning nausea hit her, and she was locked in the bathroom until it was time to leave for work.

  “What are you thinking about?” Alice asked, sitting down beside her friend. “You look like you’re about to burst into tears.”

  Annabelle blinked hard and tried to smile. “I’m just tired,” she said. “I shouldn’t have worked a double yesterday.”

  “Why are you working so much, anyway?” Alice wanted to know, handing Annabelle a Pepsi from the vending machine. “You planning on moving out?”

  “Eventually,” Annabelle replied. “Aren’t you?”

  Alice shrugged, and then she looked down at her hands. “Somebody has to take care of them, you know? Especially now that Daddy doesn’t have a job.”

  “But that’s not your responsibility.”

  “I can’t let them lose the house,” Alice said. “And that’s exactly what will happen if it’s just Mama bringing in income. You and I both know that Daddy will never work again.”

  Annabelle nodded. “I know.”

  “Hey,” Alice said suddenly, sitting up. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.” Annabelle took a sip of her Pepsi. “Shoot.”

  “Are you seeing my brother?”

  Annabelle almost choked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t pretend to be stupid,” Alice replied, rolling her eyes. “Better yet, don’t pretend that I’m stupid.”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid,” Annabelle replied. “Has your father ever asked you about me and Billy?”

  “He asks me nearly every day,” Alice replied, shifting her eyes away from Annabelle.

  “And what do you tell him?”

  “I tell him you’ve never, ever said anything to me about it.”

  Annabelle nodded. “And that’s the way it’s going to stay.”

  Chapter 22

  I STOOD IN FRONT OF ANNABELLE’S BEDROOM DOOR, STILL dripping from my midmorning shower. I couldn’t find towels anywhere, and the two I’d already used were sitting in the laundry room, still wet, smelling slightly of mildew. I figured that the rest of them had to be in the master bathroom, which meant I had to go inside Annabelle’s room.

  I felt silly for being hesitant. It was just a room, after all. I pushed open the door and hurried inside, eager to find something to dry off with. In the bathroom, I found several fluffy pink towels that still smelled like fabric softener, and I wrapped one around my middle and used another for my hair.

  Since I hadn’t gone through the bedroom during my cleanup the day before, everything in the bathroom was untouched. It looked like Annabelle had just stepped out and would be right back, for all this bathroom knew about it. There were odds and ends of drugstore makeup strewn across the countertop. There were random bottles of shampoo and shower gel in the shower, and there must’ve been at least six different types of hair dryers and detangling sprays, and I suddenly realized where I’d gotten my easily tangled hair. I tidied up but didn’t throw away anything except a couple of empty toilet paper rolls, and then padded back out into the bedroom. Still in my towel, I meant to hurry out of the room before my hair began to dry, but a picture sitting on the nightstand caught my eye.

  It was Annabelle—young and pretty, standing between a woman who looked like her and a man with dark hair and dark eyes. I realized almost instantly that the people with her had to be her parents. Annabelle couldn’t have been much older than twelve or thirteen, from the look of her. I picked up the picture frame and stared at it, unconsciously tracing
over their faces with my forefinger. I’d never seen my grandparents before. I wondered what they’d been like, and then I realized with a sharp intake of air that I would never know. I would never have the opportunity to ask the one person who should have been there to tell me. I felt a flash of anger that was soon overshadowed by guilt, knowing that my hurt would only hurt my parents if they knew. They’d given me everything, and here I was crying over dead people I didn’t know.

  I set the picture down like it was a hot potato and hurried out of the room.

  Sherbet gave me a cursory glance when I returned to the spare bedroom to get dressed and then promptly went back to sleep. The dog, however, upon hearing my sniffling, opened her eyes and sat up, tail thump, thump, thumping against the bedpost at the foot of the bed. I leaned over to inspect her neck, and she rolled over, tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth.

  I couldn’t tell that her neck looked much better, but at least she hadn’t bled any more during the night and that disgusting chain was off her. I reached over to rub her belly, and she wiggled her way right off the bed and onto the floor.

  Something small and white on the navy blue bedspread caught my eye. I took a step closer to check it out and saw what looked like several tiny grains of rice near where the dog had been sleeping. I reached down and picked one up to inspect it, rolling it around on the tip of my finger.

  To my absolute shock and horror, the grain of rice began to move. I screamed and shook my finger, but the rice creature stayed stuck. The dog began to jump around and bark at my feet, her tail wagging so furiously that I tripped over it and fell crashing to the floor, causing the rice creature to come unstuck and land directly on my cheek. I sat on the floor for a few seconds, too stunned to move. Eventually I gained my bearings and scrambled up.

  I picked the rice creature off my face and ran to the bathroom, chanting, “Ew, ew, ew,” under my breath.

  After I flushed the rice creature down the toilet, I rummaged around in the kitchen and found a pair of rubber gloves underneath the sink. I tied a T-shirt around my face and went back into the bedroom to do battle.