by Joan Kilby
“Good spotting.” Finn gave him a high five but his heart sank.
On one side of the railway track lay the beach. On the other side, the road and beyond that, dense forest. If Rufus went into the woods, he would be harder to track. Or he might run onto Chuckanut Drive and get hit by a car. Even as they watched, Rufus left the train tracks and trotted into the woods.
Finn grabbed Tyler’s hand. “Let’s go. Quiet now.”
They crept closer and crouched below the siding. Finn peered over, mentally marking the location the dog had entered the forest between a dead pine and an alder sapling. A moment later he glimpsed the dog moving parallel to the shore. He and Tyler followed on the beach side of the tracks.
Carly arrived, stumbling down the trail in a skirt that rode above her knees, and patent leather shoes smeared with dirt. She carried a leash over her shoulder with the price tag still on it and a plastic shopping bag. Finn went to meet her. The scent of her citrusy perfume was like a waft of fresh air above the earthy smells of pine and seaweed and mudflat.
Finn relieved her of the shopping bag and took her hand to help her down the last bit of the trail. “I see you dressed for the occasion.”
“I had an appointment at the bank this morning. I didn’t want to take the time to go home and change so I stopped at the supermarket for this stuff.” She noticed Tyler. “Hi there, sweetie.”
“Ty, this is Carly, the dog’s owner.” Finn peered into the bag. “Is this the food?”
“Yessiree.” She reached over and pulled out a warm rotisserie chicken in a foil bag. “I defy a starving dog not to come to roast chicken.”
Finn had been expecting kibble or at the best, canned dog food. “Brilliant.”
“I hungry.” Tyler edged closer, eyeing the chicken.
“Here you go.” Carly ripped off a small wing and handed it to him. “Where is Rufus?”
“He went that way,” Finn said, pointing across the tracks to the woods. “We haven’t seen him for about five minutes.”
“Maybe I should go alone in case too many people scare him,” Carly said.
“I’ll go, in case a cougar smells that chicken and comes looking for lunch,” Finn said.
“Coug’r?” Tyler’s eyes rounded with excitement.
Carly looked as if she would faint. “Cougar?”
“No, probably not,” Finn said hastily, kicking himself for scaring them. “Let’s all go.”
Finn hoisted Tyler onto his hip and carried him up the rocky siding. Then he turned to give Carly a hand but she was already at the top. They pushed their way through the undergrowth between the trees. The dog was nowhere in sight.
Carly stopped in a small clearing and tore open the foil bag. She waved a hunk of chicken in the air. “Ru-fus. Here, boy. Come and eat. Rufus.”
For at least sixty seconds, nothing happened. Then a rustling in the bushes. The Irish setter poked his noble, daft head through the bright green fronds of a sword fern. Lifting his muzzle, he scented the air.
Carly handed Finn the chicken and took the collar and leash in both hands. “You lure him and I’ll sneak around and collar him,” she whispered.
“What I do?” Tyler asked in a stage whisper between greasy bites of chicken.
“Stand by and be ready to give him lots of pats,” Carly said.
“Okay,” Tyler said, very seriously. He laid his half-eaten wing carefully on a mossy log and licked his fingers. “Ready.”
“Here, boy.” Finn walked very slowly forward, holding the chicken in front of him. “Come to papa.”
Tentatively, the dog put one paw in front of the other. Finn tore off a chunk of meat and threw it on the ground. Carly tiptoed around the dog’s flank, gradually closing the distance as Rufus crept toward the meat and gobbled it down in a single gulp.
Finn crouched with another piece of chicken in his hand. This time he held on to it, urging the dog to come closer. Rufus stretched his neck out and nibbled at the meat, trying to tug it free. Carly dropped the leash over his outstretched neck and grabbed the other end. It was then the work of seconds to snap the collar on.
Finn tore off more chunks and threw them to the starving dog, careful not to give him any bones.
Tyler patted the dirty red fur with greasy fingers. “Good doggy. You safe.”
Elated and relieved, Finn glanced at Carly to exchange a smile over Tyler’s cuteness. “We found him.”
“You found him.” Her eyes were very blue in the dark of the forest, her expression a confusion of sadness and relief. Her hair was mussed and she had smears of dirt on her clothes.
“You caught him.” He’d never seen her look so beautiful and yet so vulnerable. Like she didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
“We did it together.” Her smile flickered and faded.
He wanted to kiss her. Something stopped him, something to do with the inner turmoil she radiated. One crisis was over but he sensed another was brewing. He touched away a drop of moisture at the corner of her eye and let his fingertip linger a moment on the soft skin of her cheek. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”
* * *
CARLY DASHED AWAY the welling tears. She’d been fine until she’d seen Rufus looking like a stray dog all filthy and starving. Now the emotions of the past few days were catching up to her. She would figure things out. She had to believe that even if she was struggling to cope right now. “Let’s go back to the beach.”
Once there she slumped onto a driftwood log and hugged Rufus. The dog put a paw on her knee and licked the moisture off her cheeks with big slurps of his tongue. She laughed through her tears and then cried harder. “You poor sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Finn dropped down next to her on the log. Tyler crouched on the other side of Rufus, patting and chatting to him.
“Sorry,” she said to Finn, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “You must think I’m a complete mess. Every time you see me, I’m either drunk, hungover or crying.”
“Don’t apologize.” His arm came around her, warm and solid. “It’s okay.”
She leaned into him, unable to resist the comfort he offered. “I’m so glad we found Rufus. I remember walking with him and Aunt Irene on this beach.”
“I wish I’d kept in touch with her more,” Finn said. “We emailed occasionally about musical stuff but I felt as if I’d let her down because I’d given up performing.”
“She cared about you, even if you didn’t see each other,” Carly said. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. She left you her piano. It was in her will.”
Finn stared, a lock of dark hair falling over his raised eyebrows. “Seriously?”
She nodded, smiling at his surprise and pleasure. “It’s a nice piano.”
“Nice?” He snorted. “That’s like saying a Maserati is a ‘nice’ car.”
“She left me the house and contents. And this guy.” Carly leaned down to pat Rufus, now asleep on the smooth stones, his muzzle resting on her foot. “What am I going to do with him.”
“He’s a great dog,” Finn said.
“He’s great here in Fairhaven. Not so suitable for Manhattan. I’ll be working long hours, living in an apartment...” She shook her head. “I’m not the best person to take care of him. I don’t know what Irene was thinking of.”
“She gave him to you because she trusted you.” He drew a pattern in a patch of sand with a piece of driftwood. “And maybe she didn’t think she was going to die so soon.”
They fell silent. Gray waves lapped the shiny wet stones at the edge of the water, bringing yellow foam that collected in the crevices. A week ago she was in Manhattan wearing power suits for her high-octane new job and getting a three-hundred-dollar haircut. Now look at her, covered in mud on a Washington state beach with Finn, a runny-nosed toddler and a runaway dog.<
br />
She laughed. “Life is so random.” Then she sighed. “I might have to ask my father for a loan to carry the house for a few months until it sells.”
Finn removed his arm from around her shoulders. “You’re not going to get rid of it.”
His disapproval immediately put her back up. “What else am I going to do with it? I live in New York.”
“People change jobs and move across the country all the time.”
“There aren’t a lot of jobs at my level here in Fairhaven,” she protested.
“Seattle, then.”
“I’m in an excellent position where I am. I’d be an idiot to let it go.”
“Irene loved that house,” Finn argued. “She’s been there for... I don’t know how many years. But lots.”
“Twenty-eight. I found out this morning when I signed the deed.” For a moment she envisaged the future her aunt had hoped for. Moving in, having a family, passing the house down through the future generations. Legacy had meant a lot to Irene. On the other hand, Irene had also believed everyone was in charge of their own destiny. “She said in the will that I could do what I wanted with it. Of course I’d like to keep it but I’m not rich. Why don’t you buy it?”
“I already have a house in Los Angeles.”
“People move and change jobs all the time,” she said, one eyebrow raised. Finn’s mouth twisted. Carly found a pebble and turned it over, her fingernail tracing a gray line snaking through the white quartz.
“Being true to ourselves is the best way to honor Irene,” Finn said. “You do what you have to do.”
“I’m picking up her ashes tomorrow,” Carly said.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“That would be nice,” Carly said. “I can’t decide whether to keep them or spread them somewhere. Did she ever say anything to you about her wishes?”
“Not that I recall,” Finn said. “You don’t have to decide right away.”
“I can’t see taking her back to New York with me. She never liked the east coast.”
“How about this beach? She came here a lot.”
“That’s an idea.” Carly tossed away the pebble. “Did you know she’d taken on a new boarder? Taylor Greene, nice guy, total geek.”
“No, I didn’t. How did you find out?”
“He showed up at the house yesterday afternoon with all his stuff, ready to move in.”
“Oh, man. Did you tell him your aunt died?” Finn said.
“I did. He brandished his rental agreement and claimed he had a right. I let him stay—for now.”
“I’m no lawyer but I’m pretty sure you’re not obligated to honor the agreement under the circumstances.”
“I’m not. And I don’t want to but he’s so...” Carly trailed off, haunted by the look in Taylor’s eyes.
“So, what?” Finn prodded.
“It’s hard to describe,” Carly said. “His reasons for needing the room were pretty compelling—he’s doing a PhD in astrophysics and the stars are aligned or something—but it was his personal life that made me cave. He’s trying to find his independence and moving into Irene’s house is a step along that road. He needs sanctuary.”
Finn shook his head. “Carly Maxwell, you’re a sucker for a sob story.”
“I am not.” She sat up straighter. “I’m ruthless. I told him he needed to start looking for another place to live.” She didn’t know if she’d have the heart to throw him out if he couldn’t find one, mind you.
Finn nudged her with his shoulder. “Look at those two.” Rufus was flaked out on the sand with Tyler, asleep, draped over him, one chubby arm around the dog’s neck. Dog and child were covered in dirt.
“We should put them in the bath together,” Carly suggested.
“Okay, but don’t let Marla know.”
“I’m kidding!”
Finn grinned at her. “I thought it was a good idea.”
“Got to admit, they’d be cute.” While they’d been talking the clouds had broken up, revealing large patches of blue. Sunlight sparkled on the water. Finn beside her was warm and real and present. She got lost in his dark chocolate eyes.
He looked away first, clearing his throat. “On second thought, I’d better get this little guy back to his mom before she sends out an APB.”
Finn bent to scoop up Tyler and lay him over his shoulder. Carly took Rufus’s leash and they set off for the path through the woods back to where they’d parked along the highway.
Carly took a breath and let it out. Everything was okay. She was okay. At least for the moment.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FINN LEANED AGAINST the wall in the garage Dingo had converted to a music studio and listened to the band tear through a classic rock-and-roll anthem by sixties legends, The Doors.
Dingo picked out the melody on lead guitar with magic fingers and half-closed eyes, caught up in the trance of the driving beat. Billy, with shaven head and sleeves of tatts, plucked away on bass guitar. Leroy was working the drums.
They were good, damn good. Dingo had filled him in on all their stories. Every single one of them depended on the band’s income to supplement whatever they made in their day jobs. They’d been together for four years and the gig at RockAround was the big break they’d been hoping for. All that was missing was a strong lead singer and a decent keyboard player. Rudy’s departure had left a hole that needed to be filled before these guys could perform on a big stage.
Finn put a call through to his agent, Tom. Plugging his ear, he shouted into the phone. “Hey, man, how’s it going?”
“Where are you?” Tom said.
“Listen to this and tell me what you think.” Finn held out his phone toward the band for a minute.
“Tight, with a nice full sound,” Tom conceded when Finn came back on. “Retro rock is hot right now. But I don’t hear any vocals.”
“That’s why I’m calling,” Finn said. “They need a lead singer who can play keyboard who they can slot in for a big gig coming up in a couple of months. And most likely for the long term if he works out. Have you got anyone on your books that would fit the bill?”
“Yeah, you,” Tom said drily.
“I’m serious. Check your list and let me know.” Finn paused. “Has Bliss Bombs paid out yet on that song I delivered? It’s been a month.”
“I talked to them a few days ago,” Tom said. “Now they’re not sure they’re going to use it.”
Finn swore under his breath. “They came to me. They’re in breach of contract.”
“We’ll get the money,” Tom said. “Just might take a while.”
He’d been counting on that money to pay some bills. Oh well, a cash flow problem was nothing new. “Any work come in?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. A big-shot movie producer called, asking if you would DJ at his son’s twenty-first.”
“Me, DJ, seriously? I hope you said no.”
“I told him you’d think about it,” Tom said. “There’s a lot of coin in this gig. And it could be a way in to writing music for movies. I advise you to take it.”
Tom’s advice was usually wise and Finn couldn’t afford to turn down a fat paycheck. But a DJ was one step away from being a rock star. Him, standing above the dance floor on a platform, the focus of attention? What if he had an anxiety attack? “It’s way out of my field. Turn it down.”
As he hung up, a movement at a side door caught his attention. The waitress from the café with the ponytail and the big smile hovered outside. Annie waved and tugged on her straggly hair. He nodded hello.
The song finished. All the guys looked over at Finn. He’d gathered from overhearing snippets of their conversation that Dingo was still hoping he would change his mind about joining the band. But no pressure.
“Well?” Dingo said, propping one knee on the keyb
oard stool.
“You guys have a great sound,” Finn said. “My agent thinks so, too.”
Dingo exchanged a glance with Leroy and Billy. “I mean, what about being our lead singer?”
“Tom’s going to work on finding you someone.”
Bada-ba-boom. Leroy expressed his disappointment with a downbeat riff on drums. “We’re wasting our time. Might as well forget about rehearsing until we get someone.”
“Come on dudes,” Dingo protested. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. We can’t leave learning the new songs till the last minute.”
“I’m with Leroy,” Billy said. “Anyway, I need to get ready for work at the gas station.” He started to unsling his guitar from around his neck.
“One of you can sing lead, can’t you?” Finn suggested. “Just for rehearsal.”
“Leroy doesn’t have the range,” Dingo said. “I’m getting a cold and don’t want to risk messing up my vocal cords. Billy here...” He directed a fondly exasperated gaze at the youngest member who couldn’t be more than twenty-two or twenty-three. “Doesn’t know the words.”
“Hey, man, this song is like, from the dark ages,” Billy protested.
“It’s a classic,” Finn said. “Every rocker worthy of the name should know it.”
“Weren’t you a hotshot singer once upon a time?” Billy shot back. “Why don’t you take lead?”
Finn shook his head. “My gig is writing songs.”
Leroy laid his sticks across the snare. “Sorry, Dingo. I’m outta here.”
Dingo swore and shook his head.
Finn rubbed the leather bracelet on his wrist, stretching the ends trailing out of the knot. The success or failure of this concert would impact Dingo’s future even more than it affected the other band members. Marla was getting impatient with what she saw as her husband’s hobby. It took time away from the family and stopped him from getting a better-paying job that required more hours. Unless they progressed beyond basically being a pub band, these guys had no future as a group. If Finn could perform in public he would help them in a heartbeat, but just the thought was enough to make his vocal cords tighten.
