by Lyz Kelley
“Is that right?” She reached for a towel to dry her face.
“Tell her?” Thad looked at Custer to back up his sorry ass, but the dog just sat down and looked rather bored. “You’re no help.” For a few seconds, he tried deciphering her mood. “I thought you might like a latte. Adoption Day has gotta to be a big deal, right?”
Her wary eyes met his as he approached. He extended his arm with the peace offering.
“Thad, I…”
“It’s just coffee, Karly, and an offer to help. Nothing more.”
That wasn't the truth either. He needed to stop lying to himself, and to her.
“Tastes like there’s a touch of vanilla and whipped cream. You remembered.”
There’s not much I’ve forgotten. The flush in her cheeks showed his small gift hit the sweet spot.
“Since you’re here and I’m wet, would you mind feeding the dogs? I’ve already fed the smalls.” She gestured toward the far side of the room. “Food and dishes are over there. Instructions are on the wall. Just please go light on the food. I was late ordering my supply shipment. I had an unexpected repair on one of the skylights, and the cooling system in the quarantine trailer needed replacing. What I have needs to last until Monday.”
Large plastic food bins and freshly sanitized dishes stacked against the far wall made it hard to miss. “You got it.” He rubbed at the scars on his hand. “You know I can help with some of those repairs…if you’d like.”
A host of expressions trotted across her face, and she looked like she didn’t know whether to sit, stand, or fetch. Finally she threw up her hands. “Sounds great. I could use that kind of help.”
He nodded. Websites and dog food and screwdrivers had to be some sort of millennial language of love. Who Knew? Women. He walked away before she pinned a Post-it to his shirt reading, “needs a clue.”
For the next hour, he fed the dogs, cleaned the kennels, and fixed one of the door locks that kept getting stuck, all to the humming sounds of Karly going about her day. Her off-tune singing and the sweet way she eased the animals’ fears created a peaceful atmosphere, something he hadn’t experienced in weeks. Hell, he hadn’t felt this way since he left.
Another hour passed, and volunteers started arriving to help families find their forever friend. He placed Custer in the communal play area and collected adoption applications until a boarding customer needing to pick up her dog sent him in search of the one person who didn’t really want him around.
“Hey, Karly? Stella King’s out front with her grandson wanting to pick up their dog.”
She stood and pressed a palm to her forehead. “She wasn’t supposed to be back from vacation until tomorrow. Would you please tell her I’ll be a few minutes?”
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll handle it.”
Karly squeezed the back of her neck, her eyes going blank while her mind shifted gears. “She normally pays by check. It’s forty dollars per day. Huckleberry is the miniature schnauzer in the third stall over in the boarding area. His leash is on the hook to the left, and his leftover food has his name on the bag.”
Karly took a step toward the back door. He held up his hand. “I got this.”
She hesitated. “You sure? You’ve done so much already.”
“I’m good.” He leaned to the left to see around her. “Looks like one of your furry buddies is about to be adopted.”
When he turned back, she was blinking at the young girl with a kitten in her arms and parents hovering nearby, her eyes suspiciously moist. “Yep. And, thanks for the help.” Her quiet tone matched the gratitude in her expression.
Something about the simple words put a spring in his step. He went out the back door to circle around the adoption center and quarantine house to the boarding containers, walking along the row of pets waiting for their families to come get them.
He picked up the excited schnauzer, and half- empty bag of food. The small terrier must have heard his master’s voice outside, because he couldn’t stop wiggling.
Connecting the leash to the dog’s collar, Thad opened the employees-only door and set the oh-so-happy pup on the floor. Seconds later, the exuberant animal knocked the four-year-old over. The Norman Rockwell painting scene, complete with a boy, a dog, and smiles, filled Thad with joy. A sensation he’d forgotten existed. He lifted the youngster and set him on his feet.
“Thanks, mister,” the boy said in between doggy hugs.
“You’re welcome.” Thad handed the boy the end of the leash, and the woman standing nearby the leftover kibble.
“Why’s your hand all gross?” The boy pointed at Thad’s scars.
“Nicholas! What did I tell you about asking those types of questions?” The grandmother’s eyes conveyed an unnecessary apology.
He crouched down next to the kid and pulled up his sleeve to show him the full extent of his injury. “Would you believe I was helping Superman save the world? There was this big explosion, and the Hulk and I had to shield Batman and Robin from the blast. We saved the day.”
“That’s cool.” The boy’s eyes flared as his curious fingers skimmed over the leathery healing surface.
The boy’s eyes brightened, and he turned toward his grandmother. “He’s a hero, Nana. A real, live hero.”
Not so much, kid.
“Yes, he is.” Stella came to stand by her grandson’s side. “You’re Raymond’s boy. Thad, correct?”
Here it comes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m glad you came home. I always thought you had a good head on your shoulders.” She considered the mangled tattoo on his forearm. “Marines?”
Nope. I didn’t follow my dad. “Army.”
“Thank you for what you gave to our country.”
He nodded and swallowed the uneasiness in his throat. Every day he reminded himself to push through the agony of working damaged muscles and ligaments, because at least he was still alive. Others hadn’t been so lucky. Those who returned home with a flag draped over their coffin, those guys were the ones who gave. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”
The kid looked up at Stella. “I'm going to be a superhero when I grow up.”
“You’re already my tough little man. Aren’t you?” Stella lovingly ruffled the boy’s hair. “Come on, Nick. Let’s get Huckleberry to the car.”
Watching the two walk hand in hand to the minivan made him think about calling his mom. Maybe he could send a card or schedule a Skype call. He’d sent her money, but what he could spare was never enough. The pressure to do more, be more, persisted.
“Thanks for your help.” Karly appeared in the employee entrance looking completely exhausted.
“You’re welcome.”
“Volunteers are finishing up the paperwork, and we’re about ready to call it a day.”
“Are Adoption Days always this busy? I counted twenty families wanting to adopt.”
“Yep, every first and third Saturday of the month. Not everyone who came adopted, though. I like when people schedule appointments. I can spend more time with the family and get a feel for what type of animal would be a good fit. The animals are not as wound up, and it’s easier for adopters to get to know the animals and their personalities.”
“Did you get any placed?”
“As a matter of fact, we did. Four dogs, a cat, and a guinea pig.”
“A guinea pig?” His you-gotta-be-kidding-me tone made Karly snicker. He’d forgotten how beautiful life could be when she smiled at him. The outside world disappeared. She created a bubble of happy and invited everyone nearby to come on in and enjoy her warm, safe place.
“You’d be surprised how many rabbits and rodents I get every month. Unfortunately, I have no extra kennel space. The little guys ended up in a ventilated storage closet I converted. The local elementary school borrows a different animal each week to help continue socializing the little critters. Just last week, one of the little boys adopted the box turtle I placed with his class. Some of the teachers have the kids write
a story about the different animals. It’s a good fit.”
“Smart idea. You have a good thing going here, Karly. You really do.”
“I’m doing my best. I wish everyone understood how much I care about these animals.”
“Don’t tell me.” He shook his head. “Your mom again.”
“How did you guess?”
Wasn’t all that hard. “It’s Saturday night, and I bet you don’t want to cook. How about a pizza?”
“Won’t happen.”
The instant rejection stung like a flesh wound. Not deep enough to leave a scar, but deep enough to hurt. He followed her out of the metal container while she went about locking up.
She turned, her smile building slowly. “The pizza shop in town closed. We could do Mexican or Chinese, or there’s always calzones at More Than Meatballs.”
Optimism whooshed in. “How about I pick up something at the store to cook?” he asked, not wanting to deal with all the whispers and sideways glances.
Her mouth started to curve up at the corners, then a twinkle of humor flashed in her eye. “You know how to do more than throw something into the microwave?”
He shrugged with a friendly smirk. “I’ve learned a thing or two while I’ve been gone.”
“I’d like to see this.”
He wasn’t about to confess that baked chicken, hamburgers, and steak were about the limit of his culinary skills. “Are you good here? I could get the stuff and meet you at the cabin.”
Please say yes. His nerves sent impulses across his chest and out to his fingers, the same sizzling feeling he got the first time he asked Karly for a date. He waited for her to finish her long internal debate, all the time holding his breath.
“Okay. On one condition—I bring the beer.”
“I can live with that.” His heart did a virtual fist pump, then settled. Wait. Should I stay? Make sure she doesn’t change her mind?
Chill dude, Neon’s voice popped into his head. Settle your dumb ass down. She’s fine.
Karly’s word was golden. She was just like his buddies in the Army. Someone he could always count on—especially when it mattered.
Neon was right. The title of dumbass fit. Maybe that’s why I’m still single.
He walked beside her back to the main building to retrieve an exhausted Custer from the social time play area. At least Custer wouldn’t have the energy to chew on his boots tonight.
He, on the other hand, wouldn’t mind having a little nibble.
The lingering aroma of medium-rare blue cheese buffalo burgers and deli potato salad mixed with the smell of pine from the outdoor fire pit. Karly relaxed in the Adirondack chair he’d recently sanded and repainted.
“I’m stuffed.” She zipped up her purple fleece jacket and leaned back to look at the early evening stars.
The last of the sunset slashed oranges and reds against the purple mountain backdrop, and another small helping of contentment eased into his bones.
Thad picked up her paper plate and tossed it into the fire. “Do you want another beer?” He moved toward the ice cooler.
“No, I’m good.” She lifted her legs and curled into the chair.
Her tight-fitting jeans hugged her curves nicely...not that he was looking. Who was he kidding? Tonight she attracted his attention like a deer to a rosebush. She was irresistible. Just like old times. She’d left her hair down and looked stunningly sexy. His heart kept sending off warning flares.
“If you’re interested, I picked up some marshmallows for roasting. I forgot the chocolate, though.”
“Maybe later. That burger was huge.” Her mood turned introspective, quiet. She wrapped her arms around her knees and just looked at the stars.
“What just happened? You got all quiet.”
She glanced at him, then gazed at the fire for a long, silent moment. “Just thinking.”
He stood and unfolded one of the wool blankets he’d brought from the house and draped it over her, tucking in the sides. “Better?”
Gratitude and something more flickered in her eyes. “Thanks.”
He crouched by the pit and added a couple more logs. Sparks spiraled into the night’s crisp air and disappeared.
“The kitten that was adopted today reminded me of Juke.”
He leaned and grabbed a stick to poke at the logs again and again, sending a riot of burning particles into the air. “When I saw the little guy, I had the same thought.”
She tucked her forehead against her knees, shaking her head. “He was such a great cat.”
“Was? You don’t have him anymore?”
“After my dad left, my mom went on a cleaning frenzy. She didn’t want the hair in the house. While I was at work, she took Juke to a shelter.”
The sound of sorrow and something else in her voice made him drag his chair closer to hers. “But you loved that cat,” he finally managed.
“I did.” Karly wrapped tighter into a ball. “Anything that reminded mom of her old life, she sold or gave away. She barely even looked at Kenny or me. When he went to boot camp, I moved into an apartment. I posted notices on Craigslist trying to find Juke, but I got no responses. He was almost four. If she took him to a kill shelter, I bet he didn’t last more than a couple of days before he was put down. Most people want to adopt kittens.” She lifted the collar of her jacket to hide her face, but her quiet sniffles escaped and expanded on the gentle breeze.
He itched to pick her up and haul her into his arms. Instead, he sat in his cold, hard chair a little less than arm’s length away. “Yet you still talk to the woman.”
“I told you before, I don’t hold on to hate. Hate just makes the body sick, and I don’t see the need. My mother won’t change.”
Custer, sensing her need, pushed his head against her leg. She scratched his soft ears and let the sound of the night fill in the gap. “I’m okay. Lie down.” She snapped her fingers and pointed at the ground beside her. “That’s a good boy.”
A snap of a twig made Thad study the tree line, but this time he managed to stay seated.
“That’s the third time you’ve about jumped out of that chair. Is that a soldier instinct, or is it something more?”
“It’s just my training kicking in.” The lie was a small one, but left behind a great big mound of guilt. “It’s better to be hyper-alert than unprepared when something pops out of the bushes.”
“That’s interesting.” She stared into the fire.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s so interesting?”
“It’s been a long time, and we’ve changed. I still have a pretty good instinct for when someone is not telling the truth. Do you want to try again? Tell me the whole truth this time?” She rolled her head toward him to give him that familiar look, the one she’d perfected. The one that looked into his soul, yet never judged.
“That’s the thing about the truth. You might hear things that will stay with you forever. Things that can’t be unsaid once they are out there.”
“I’m assuming you’re talking about your military experiences. You must have some good memories. You were in for a long time.”
There it was, the open-ended statement, the one that hit him with the spotlight and exposed him. Instinct made him want to dig a trench and hide, but no matter how much training he received, she’d always find him. Suss him out. Make him vulnerable. “A few. It’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain.” She waved a hand. “I get it. It’s guy stuff.”
He pushed from his chair. “Maybe we should go in. It looks like you’re getting cold.” He extended his hand to help her up.
She ignored his gesture and hunkered in. “Not until you tell me a story about your time away. I want to know about what happened after you left.”
“Why?” He took a step back.
“Why not?”
She’d put him under a magnifying glass, studying each gesture and shuffle of his feet. When he licked his lips, a telltale sign, he almost groaned.
Well
, hell. He got a beer out of the cooler. If he was going there, he needed to unclog the wad of regret stuck in his throat. He rolled his neck in a circle, then settled into the chair to watch the wind blow through the trees.
She waited. Like she always had. The silence squeezed tighter until he held out his hand again, palm up, and she placed hers on top. He closed his fingers and palm around her cold hand.
“There was this guy named Steve Plutton. We met in basic training. Everyone called him Pluto after the Disney character. Because he was always on the move. The guy had more energy than a portable generator.” His puff of laughter echoed into the darkness. “One night, after we finished with an exercise, he got drunk. The bar was closing, and he decided he wanted to go for a swim. The problem was, there wasn’t a pool open on base, and a taxi to a beach would have cost a lot of money. Unfortunately, there was a twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart close by. He bought one of those baby pools. Of course, he invited everyone at the bar to come back to the barracks. Most followed more out of curiosity than anything.”
“Isn’t that against the rules?” She released his hand to adjust her position.
“Yep. He didn’t care. He ran a hose from the showers to fill the pool.”
“What happened?”
“He got caught and ended up cleaning the bathroom with a toothbrush for a week.” Thad snickered at the memory.
“Sounds like a fun guy to have around.” She took a swig of beer.
Thad nodded, and picked at the label on his bottle. “The knucklehead became one of the best soldiers in the platoon.”
“Where is he stationed now?”
“Ft. Sill National Cemetery in Oklahoma.” Thad bowed his head.
“Oh. Oh, I’m s-sorry.”
Custer got up and then collapsed at his feet, his head resting on his shoes. Thad drew in a long, deep breath and pushed his anger over the senseless death out with the air. “One minute we were on patrol together, and the next he was gone, and I was on the ground.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck, his knee bouncing up and down like a sewing machine needle.
“That month we got orders to teach the locals how to remove mines. Every day we’d clear dozens, and the next morning there would be a dozen more in different spots. Steve was joking around, talking shit. He had just suggested we play Russian Roulette, that it would be safer, then, boom.” He knew she wouldn’t get the sick humor every soldier used to get through the day. “Ike and I were on point, and Steve was a couple of yards away. The sun was a bastard, and all I wanted to do was get back and take a cold shower.”
