by Kellie Bean
Two's Company
Four of a Kind Book Two
Kellie Bean
Copyright © 2017 Kellie Sheridan
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the
author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Formatted by Katzilla Designs
Edited by M.M. Chabot Junior Editors: Stephanie Winter, Katie Sanchez & Philippa Attwood
http://www.patchwork-press.com/
ISBN-13: 978-1-988902-02-9
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Also by Kellie Bean
About the Author
Chapter 1
The more days in a row I force myself out of bed right as the sun is only beginning to rise, the more I appreciate the quiet of Fairview. It's like a whole different town in the hours before most of the people who live here are up and going about their lives.
I’ll never admit this to Rhiannon, but she may be onto something. Mornings are… just possibly...not quite as terrible as I’ve always thought. The more often I start my day like this, the more I love it.
I’m not exactly looking to give up late nights either, but thanks to the magic of summer vacation, a mid-afternoon nap is usually an option, making sure I get the best of both worlds.
Usually, but not today. Today will be different. Special.
Today, I’m starting early and going non-stop until I, more than likely, collapse onto my bed after Jean-Anne’s beach birthday party. I’m currently headed to my morning stop-off at the Fairview Humane Society to feed everyone and let the dogs out for a pee-break, then onto school as quickly as I can to warm up before soccer tryouts. After that, there’s something I’ve been looking forward to for almost a year now—actually kicking ass at that tryout. Once all of that is done, I’ll have dinner at home and then I get to party. Followed by sleep. Lots and lots of sleep.
A light breeze rushes at my face as I round the corner onto Main Street, refreshing and invigorating all at once. Far more manageable than the sweltering heat that is sure to come later in the day, right when I'm supposed to be pushing my body to its limits.
In the early light of morning Fairview looks picturesque, with only a few people and cars moving through its streets. I turn at the central courtyard, my destination now within my sight. I’ve been making this same trip three times a week all summer. Before that, it was once a week since the start of second semester.
But, no matter how much time passes, I still get excited every time I see the animal shelter.
The Humane Society exists in a small building that was once a bungalow, but has since been expanded through the back of the property, until it was big enough to serve as the only animal shelter in a three-town radius.
On autopilot, I walk past the front door that will stay locked until the building opens to the public right before lunchtime, heading for the back. As soon as my key slips into the lock, I brace myself for the influx of excited barks from whichever dog hears me come in first. Who no doubt, will undoubtedly tip off all his buddies. Before I can push the door open, a soft whimper comes from somewhere behind me. I pause in place, the door still closed. I take my hand off the doorknob, listening for the sound to come again.
Right away, I hear it. A quiet murmur, and then another. Cautiously, I turn my head, honing in on exactly where the sounds are coming from. I take a step toward the large green dumpster on the edge of the property. As I move, my foot hits some discarded cardboard. An empty box sits beside the back door to the shelter, one side torn right down the center.
Considering how ornery Kendra Bishop—the vet who owns and runs the shelter—is about keeping things tidy, my brain takes a second to register the significance of a simple box in a parking lot. Something had been in that box and managed to escape out the side. I’d already heard a few stories about people abandoning their pets near the shelter when no one was around to judge or criticize, but right now and more importantly, whatever had been in that box wasn’t there anymore.
Someone abandoned their pets here overnight, leaving whatever was in that box with more than enough time to escape.
Crap, crap, crap. I’m in no way trained to handle anything like this, but I need to figure this out. And completely on my own. Tiny, furry lives could literally depend on it.
I push back a wave of rage and panic that threatens to take hold of my heart, forcing in a slow breath to steady myself. I’d bet good money that the sound I heard a moment ago was some poor animal who's lost, confused, and scared enough to cry out for help.
Whatever it was that made the noise has gone quiet again. A chain-link fence separating the shelter’s property from the hardware store next to it, meaning they couldn’t have gone far.
I hope.
If I wasn’t fully awake a minute ago, I definitely am now.
Trying not to make too much noise as I move toward the dumpster, I crouch down low in hopes of spotting where the animal is hidden, without spooking them. My palms lay flat against the pavement a moment before I press my cheek right to the ground.
I’m not exactly sure what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t to find two tiny puppy faces staring right at me from maybe two feet away. One of the two squeaks in alarm, causing them both take a few steps backwards. Thankfully, they don’t run. I don’t think they know what to do in this situation any more than I do. A moment later, a third puppy pops its head out from behind the other two. Almost as one, the group stops moving. I swear they’ve stopped breathing, let alone making any noise. Poor babies probably think I’m about to eat them, and I have no idea what to do to convince them otherwise, let alone get them to come to me.
Maybe… maybe I could reach out and grab one. I don't see a way I could get all three at once.
“Hey puppies.” I whisper, doing my best to coo out the words. “It’s okay. You had a bad night, I know. I’m not going to hurt you.” I’m rambling, probably sounding like a lunatic, but these guys don’t understand English and all I really need them to understand is that I’m not going to hurt them.
Hesitantly, I inch one hand forward, trying to stay balanced with the other. One puppy flinches a little as my braid falls from my back to the ground in front of me, still none of them runs away. It’s a start.
The last thing I want to do is risk frightening any of them, possibly having them run off in three different directions before I can catch any. They look fairly young, so maybe I could keep up with one, not all of them.
Not moving too quickly, I grab my cell phone out of my front pocket, not taking my eyes off the dogs, dialing Kendra's home number.<
br />
"Hello?" A groggy voice on the other end of the line answers after a few rings. Kendra has never been much of a morning person, which is why she was all too eager to let me take over the early morning check-ins, as well as feedings for the summer while I'm not in school.
"Kendra, it’s Reece. I'm here at the clinic. We’ve had a special delivery." I emphasize the word ‘special’, hoping she’ll catch my meaning.
"What is it?" There's no question that my boss is wide-awake now. "Are they hurt? I can be there in fifteen minutes."
I do my best to keep my voice calm, both for her sake and for the puppies who are all still studying me. "It's puppies. Three of them. They were left in a box by the door, I don't know how long ago but they got out. They've barricaded themselves under the dumpster and I'm not sure how to get them out without spooking them”
I hear the vet take a long sigh. "Do you have any food on you?"
"Not on me." I finished my peanut butter sandwich about two minutes after leaving my house this morning.
"Hmm, alright. Go with your gut. Do the best you can until I get there. They’ve clearly seen people before, so they might come to you if you don’t do anything to spook them.” I hear what sounds like a yawn coming from the other end of the line. “Keep an eye out for any others. Three is fairly small for a litter, so there's no guarantee they all would've stuck together after escaping from their box. Hopefully any stragglers wouldn't have gone far. I recommend you get these three inside and into one of the kennels. Spend a little time looking around for any signs of other pups."
Kendra ends the phone call without saying goodbye, leaving only dead air to inform me that I'm on my own. At least this means I'll have backup soon, but I still have to get these three dogs to safety, along with any siblings that might join them. Sooner rather than later.
A whole new thought dawns on me, which doesn't exactly help with the stress. Is it possible they were dropped off with their mother as well? I've heard stories about people finding baby bunnies assuming they were abandoned, not realizing that their mothers were out looking for food. Would dogs do the same thing? I should have asked the expert when I had the chance.
So, I have two options. One, I could go inside and grab some dog food, hoping it would be enough to get all three dogs to come to me without too much fuss. Or two, I can see about grabbing any one I can while I'm here, then get the food.
Not for the first time I wish that someone, anyone, was here with me. These are not the kinds of decisions I like to have to make on the fly. Put me in the middle of a soccer game with the opposing team's offence rushing toward me, I can make a decision in an instant. Stuff like this, the stuff that really matters, those are decisions best left to anyone other than me.
Out of the blue, maybe sensing my insecurity, the puppy on the far left lets out a quick yip before sprinting out in the opposite direction.
I hop up and make my own run in the same direction, hoping for an intercept. When I make it around to the back of the dumpster, I don't find a running puppy moving at full speed away from me, or even worse, towards the main road. Instead, the little guy, or girl, seems to have stopped almost as soon as he or she started. Clearly the puppy was distracted by a dandelion, sniffing enthusiastically and completely oblivious to my presence.
I take a chance, leaning over and scooping the puppy up into my arms. The dog wriggles in protest for only a second before snuggling in. It's probably safe to say that this dog was used to being around people, at least before some jerk abandoned it probably in the middle of the night without any way to stay safe.
There's no sign of the other two, a quick check under the dumpster shows they haven't moved, clearly not quite as brave as their sibling. That's all the information I need to take another chance. I reach over and grab the closest dog by the scruff. I brace myself for a nip that doesn't come. Instead, the dog lets me drag it out and settles into the crook of my arm beside the first.
Soon after, I have all three and I am making my way back toward the door, doing my best to hang on to all of them. I have no idea if puppies are as breakable as babies, but I can't imagine dropping one onto the concrete would send a great message to Kendra about my future here.
As I'm headed for the door, I take a quick glance across the parking lot to see no sign of any other dog, however, that doesn't mean much. Only a few large trees line the small strip of grass that surrounds the property, it wouldn't be that difficult for some four-legged animal to make it from the back door of the shelter to pretty much anywhere in town. I wish the person who had dropped these dogs off had at least had the decency to leave a little information, anything that might help. Or even the will to spend money on a secure carrier for these puppies. Clearly, they aren't that kind of person.
If I thought juggling three dogs across the parking lot was difficult, that’s nothing compared to trying to get the back door of the clinic open with the three of them in my arms. At least the key is still wedged in the door. I end up using my hip to maneuver the handle open, letting myself inside. It's tempting to simply drop the three dogs on the floor and get back outside as quickly as possible, instead I take the time to unlock one of the free cages and put the three of them together inside. I can worry about things like food, water, and comfort once I'm a little surer about what it is we're dealing with.
How long has it been since my phone call? I'm still hoping Kendra will show up at any second and save the day.
It doesn't take long at all to do a complete lap around the building I linger for a while near the road connecting to our parking lot. Looking right at the street almost hurts because I know there's a chance I'll see a dead or injured dog lying there. Thankfully, the road is empty. That's not to say there aren't hundreds of places a dog could be hiding around here. For now, I'm going to assume that no news is good news.
If I were a puppy where would I be?
Literally anywhere. Which is not all that helpful.
I want to be everywhere all at once. Anywhere a five-pound dog could hide, that’s where I need to be. Except, I don’t even know if there's any point in looking for any other dogs. If I am, then how many?
If I screw this up, it could literally cost a dog or a puppy their life.
Something like that would haunt me for the rest of my life, but no pressure.
I stamp my foot, holding in a scream of frustration. There’s not even anyone else out this early I could ask for help. All that’s left to do is continue looking for more puppies. I check around every bush, behind every tree and under every car that’s within the immediate radius of the Humane Society, working out in circles from there. I’ll keep doing this until Kendra gets back, hopefully then she can take over, or at least give me a better idea about what I can do to help.
After looking for a while, something stops me in my tracks. I take two steps backwards as my eyes scan the area around me. Something is telling me that this is where I need to be. I’ve only gone two buildings over from the Humane Society to the little flower shop where my dad buys flowers for my mom every Wednesday. It looks like someone might already be inside the shop working, but they aren’t what I’m looking for.
I make the kind of noises dogs seem to love, hoping if a puppy is out there, they might hear me calling. A flash of movement catches my eye. I turn toward the florist's front step. I don’t see anything, but the wooden deck could easily hide a tiny, furry body.
I don’t know if I hear my breathing or whimpering, but my sixth sense knows I’m right even before I see a tiny white tail ticking back and forth slowly from under the porch.
I lean over to find not one, but two dogs who look almost identical to the others, staring back at me. The first jumps a little when he notices me, taking a few quick steps back, but his sibling has another idea entirely. Within the span of a heartbeat, I brace myself for the round little body that’s running toward me at full speed.
At least someone is happy to see me. I gather the puppy up into my arms, scoop
ing up the more nervous of the two with a little effort. My little treasure hunt has paid off, already I’m breathing a bit more easily.
I turn back toward the Humane Society just in time to see a silver van pull into the driveway. Kendra Bishop is already out of her vehicle and standing in the parking lot by the time I make it back, yet another puppy in her arms.
“Looks like you missed one.” She says with a smile as she lets the puppy she’s holding chew on her index finger.
I shake my head, not even surprised that I missed a dog right here in the parking lot. Or maybe he wandered back while I was gone. I’ll never know. Either way, that’s three more puppies safe and sound. I finally have a chance to stop and catch my breath, admiring the furry little weirdos I’ve managed to capture.
Chapter 2
Once we’re inside, I only have a few minutes to get Kendra up to speed before I have to leave the puppies behind for my usual morning routine. Every other animal in the building seems to be making a fuss about their delayed breakfast, barking ranging from deep and grumbling to yippy filling the hallways.
We’re not exactly a big city shelter, so it doesn’t take long to let most of the eight other dogs currently in our care, out into the enclosed yard. Two stay behind in their kennels, one is an older basset hound, because she tends to get a little growly at the more energetic dogs, and the other is a short haired, brown mutt whose leg is still in a cast from when he was brought in two weeks ago, after being hit by a car.
