Rescued

by Adan Ramie

  CHAPTER 3

  By seven o’clock, Chuck had prepared a large, mixed salad, miso soup with tofu, and vegetable egg rolls for dinner. A packet of information about the high-risk foster care program was laid on a table by the futon in her living room, which she had recovered with a fresh quilted throw blanket for the occasion. She even had a bottle of wine chilling for her meeting with Stella.

  She refused to call it a date, no matter what her sister said, because their arrangement was more of a business transaction than anything else. Stella would help her fund Stanley’s recovery and care for him when she was out of the country and unable. Strictly business.

  What wasn’t business, of course, was the tickly feeling she got in her stomach when she felt Stella’s skin brush again her own. Something about her sent Chuck’s heart bouncing from her throat to her stomach and back. Chuck tried to tell herself it was the way she cared about animals, or the way she was so quick to volunteer her time and money for an animal she found on the side of the road; it certainly had nothing to do with her sunny smile, the butch façade that didn’t quite hide the feminine swell of her hips and belly, or the way her breath felt as it whispered over Chuck’s ear.

  Chuck pulled herself out of her reverie when a soft knock on her door signaled that Stella had arrived. She glanced at the clock. Seven on the dot. The girl was punctual; she would give her that. Another good quality in someone she would hopefully be sharing a sweet pet with... and possibly more.

  She shook the pleasant thought out of her head, checked herself in the peace sign mirror that hung by the door, pushed a hand through her purposefully messy hair, then opened the door with a smile. “Right on time.” She stepped back and held out a hand to take the bottle of wine Stella carried in one hand.

  “I wasn’t sure what you were making, but I figured a white wouldn’t be too hard to pair.”

  Chuck looked her over. She had changed from the polo shirt and slacks she had been wearing earlier to a pair of jeans and a fitted, long-sleeved shirt that buttoned halfway down and gave a peek at the soft, luminescent skin beneath. Heat flooded her face as she realized she was staring, and she looked at her own shoes. She stepped back to let Stella inside.

  “This is nothing like what I expected,” Stella said with a chuckle as she walked into Chuck’s modest loft. She turned to face Chuck as a series of thumps sounded from a door off the living room. “Guests?”

  Chuck put the bottle of wine into the fridge, then cracked open a chilled bottle and poured them both a glass. She walked back to Stella, handed over a flute, then gestured for her to sit on the comfy, if worn, futon in the middle of the living room.

  “My brood,” Chuck finally answered as she settled down on the opposite side of the futon from Stella. “Charlie B. Barkin, Brucie, Snagglepuss, Bagheera, Templeton, Fievel, Mr. Limpet, Carlos K. Krinklebein, and Prince Naveen.”

  Stella gaped at her. “Those are some interesting names. What are they?”

  Chuck sipped her wine and tried to hide a silly grin. “I have always had a soft spot in my heart for classic kids’ movies. It makes me popular with my sister’s kids and their friends.” She put her glass on the rustic wood coffee table she had scrounged from a thrift store dumpster and walked to the kitchen to check on the egg rolls. They were browned, so she pulled them out and put the baking sheet down on a rainbow-colored trivet set.

  Stella raised an eyebrow when she sat back down. “What all do you have in your menagerie?”

  “I prefer the term ‘brood,’” she said with a smirk. “Dogs, cats, rats, fish, and, temporarily, a toad.”

  Stella put her own glass down beside Chuck’s on the table and turned toward her. “Are you sure Stanley will fit in? After all, even if the surgery goes well, he is going to be really fragile for a while, and I am not sure how an animal in that state will take to a zoo.”

  Chuck jerked her eyes to Stella’s to protest, but caught the other woman in a barely-concealed grin and relaxed. “I see you have already done your homework on care of wounded animals.” She smiled. “The cage-free ones are normally allowed to roam free, and sometimes they get rambunctious, but they all pretty much know how to deal with an injured animal. When I brought in Snagglepuss, he was a total mess. He had some serious cranial trauma and was skittish around people and other animals.” She smiled. “But we pulled him out of his shell, and now he romps with the best of them.”

  Stella leaned over and placed a hand over Chuck’s, and Chuck felt the blush rising in her cheeks. “You are something else. I have never met someone so dedicated to animals of all shapes and sizes. In my life, I have known a lot of animal lovers, but none who would go to such great lengths to care for them and keep them happy. You’re something special.”

  Chuck shrugged, careful not to pull her hand away, and looked at the scuffed toe of her sneaker. “I hate to see them suffer. My dad was a pretty harsh guy; any time one of our pets got sick, he would never bother with vet care. He would just put them down and bury them in the back yard.”

  “How awful.” Stella squeezed Chuck’s hand. “That must have been very traumatic.”

  Chuck nodded. “For both of us. Brenda took it her way, and I took it mine.”

  Stella chewed on her lip, and Chuck could see her thinking hard behind cloudy eyes.

  “What is it?”

  Stella shrugged and pulled her hand away. Chuck’s skin cooled where their hands had touched. “Your sister is quick to put an animal down, like your father.”

  Chuck frowned. She knew her sister better than anyone, and she understood her motives, but they were often hard to explain to others. Many a fight had started over Brenda’s sometimes cold-seeming choices, and friendships had been strained or ended when Chuck took her sister’s side.

  “Brenda is a realist. She knows exactly what she can give and how far her time and money can go. Sometimes that means sacrificing one for the greater good of all the others, and while I don’t always agree with her, I stand by her choices.” She grinned sheepishly. “Most of the time. Stanley is a special case.”

  Stella smiled at her. “He is a sweetheart. Even hurt, he didn’t try to fight me when I picked him up and put him in my car. He has this look in his eyes, a gentleness...”

  “He was grateful for your kindness, I’m sure,” Chuck said, then stood up and held out a hand to help Stella stand. “Are you ready to eat? We can discuss the foster program and work out a schedule over dinner.”

  Stella allowed herself to be helped up, then followed Chuck into the kitchen to the countertop bar that served as her dining table. “I like your apartment. It’s quaint.”

  Chuck snickered. “If by quaint you mean small and cramped, then yes, it’s quaint.” She plated egg rolls and salad, and handed each plate to Stella. Stella laid them neatly on the countertop, and found the silverware on the second try.

  “It’s homey,” Stella said as she sat down to wait for Chuck to bring the steaming bowls of miso soup. “This smells delicious.”

  “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but most people won’t turn down Asian food. It’s vegetarian but not vegan. I didn’t know...”

  Stella shook her head and smiled. “I consider myself a part-time vegetarian. My weaknesses are fish, eggs, chocolate, and expensive cheeses.”

  “I don’t know what I would do without Caesar dressing,” Chuck said, pouring some over the top of her salad. She put the bottle down and turned to look at Stella. “Sorry, I didn’t even ask. What kind of dressing do you want?”

  Stella reached for the bottle, gave it a little shake, then poured some on the side of her plate. “Caesar is fine. And if you’ve never dipped your egg rolls into it, you’re in for a treat.”

  Chuck grabbed an egg roll, dipped it in the dressing on top of her salad, and took a tentative bite. The flavor combination was unique – and not bad. “Definitely interesting.”

  Stella laughed and nudged her elbow. “You don’t have to humor me. I got in the habit of trying strange
new things when I was pregnant.”

  Chuck’s hand stopped halfway to her mouth with her egg roll as she realized how little she knew about the woman sitting next to her. She had pegged her for a gold star lesbian; maybe her gaydar was a little rusty. She put down the egg roll, picked up her fork, and put a bite into her mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, she missed what Stella said, and had to ask her to repeat herself.

  “To clarify, in case it matters for Stanley’s care, I have no children of my own. I was a surrogate for a couple I know a couple of years ago. I still see the little girl, but she is in no way related to me, nor is she my responsibility.” Stella shoved a big bite of salad into her mouth and looked at her plate. She chewed and swallowed in the silence. “I guess that was a bit of an overshare.”

  Chuck laughed softly. “It’s good to know Stanley won’t have to compete with a baby.” And good to know she wouldn’t have to make up her mind about children just to spend time with this fascinating woman. She sipped her soup, then glanced back at Stella. “That was really nice of you, offering up your time and body to friends. I don’t know if I have the heart for it.” She shrugged and slurped a piece of seaweed off her spoon. “Honestly, I don’t know if I could go through with it so that I could have a child myself. It seems painful, gross, and inconvenient.”

  Stella grinned. “It was all of those, but I felt like it was the right thing to do.”

  Chuck nodded, and the two women fell into quiet meditation over their dinners. When all the plates and bowls were empty, Stella helped Chuck rinse the dishes and put them into the tiny dishwasher, then Chuck poured them more wine and gestured for them to sit back down on the futon.

  “Sorry, I talked so much at dinner, we didn’t get to go over the reason I came here tonight,” Stella said, gesturing at the packet on the side table. “I guess you probably want to get through it so I can leave and you can go about your night.”

  Chuck leaned over and grabbed the packet. “I’m not in any rush. Actually, this has been great. I’m having a really good time.” She blushed and busied herself opening the fat yellow envelope, pulling out papers, and arranging them on the coffee table away from the wine glasses.

  “I’ve been enjoying myself, too,” Stella said. “You are an intriguing person to get to know, Chuck Billard.” She paused and watched Chuck arrange the papers. “So, foster care. What is the first step?”

  The two women went painstakingly through the information and Stella had no problems with the terms. She left after 10 o’clock, promising she would text Chuck to let her know she got home safely. Chuck finished her last glass of wine, slipped it into the dishwasher, and started the machine just as the text chimed through. That meant she lived close by, and Chuck fantasized for a moment about where she could be. Did she live in an apartment or a house? Did she have roommates, or did she live alone? What did her place look like in comparison to Chuck’s?

  It had been a whirlwind of a night. Chuck couldn’t remember feeling so enthralled by someone’s words ever before, and the thought made her a little giddy. If this all worked out, if she and Stella could raise the money they needed to help Stanley get all the care he deserved, they would have a bond unlike many others – that of saving a life together.

  The fact that it sounded a lot like parenthood wasn’t lost on Chuck, but she tried to push the visions of U-Hauls out of her head as she stripped out of her clothes, put on some music, and stepped into the shower. The muscles in her back and shoulders felt like granite under her fingertips, so she turned on the pulsing sprayer and let it beat away the tension of another long day.

  Tomorrow would bring more to do, but hopefully would also bring another visit from the enchanting Stella. And, if she was lucky, Chuck might figure out a way to set up a second date.

  CHAPTER 4

  The next morning, Chuck woke up before sunrise, started the coffee brewing, and shoved a bagel into the toaster. What her sister called her menagerie, but she called her family, greeted her with a cacophony of barks, yips, meows, and squeaks. As she made the rounds filling each of their food dishes, she gave out strokes, scratches, and greetings to each of her unique babies.

  Charlie raised his eyebrows at her as she walked by, and she gave him a playful nudge with her bare toes as she fed him and checked the level in his water bowl.

  “Lazy as ever, I see,” she commented. He was her oldest furry friend, and she would do anything to keep him with her as long as possible. He represented part of her life that she would never have back: a time when her parents were alive, her family was together, and the demands of the real world had not pulled she or Brenda down into the gutter.

  She patted Charlie’s butt, then moved on to Brucie, who jumped up with a high-pitched bark and danced around, his toenails clicking on the floor. Chuck smiled at his energy. It was always nice to see it, considering how she had found him: nearly bald with mange, his eyes crusted over, lying curled up in a bush by the jogging trail in her favorite park. He had barely moved when she picked him up to bring him to Brenda to fix. He also held a special place in her heart.

  “Good morning, Brucie,” she cooed, scooping him up and giving him a squeeze. He yapped in her ear and licked the side of her face, his long tongue reaching for her mouth but not quite getting there. “I love you, too.”

  Snagglepuss and Bagheera stayed where they were on the back of the sofa, their eyes barely open while she dealt with the dogs. Two cats with more perfectly suited personalities would be hard to find; even after she filled their bowls, neither moved until she walked behind the sofa cautiously. She jumped out of the way as Snagglepuss’s paw shot out, claws extended. It narrowly missed her thigh, but she gave him a scratch behind the ears anyway. Bagheera opened his eyes and regarded her with little more warmth than a black iceberg as she rubbed down the length of his back.

  “One day, you’ll both love me,” she told them as she moved on to the next room where the rest of her babies stayed in their enclosures. Neither cat responded.

  The small storage room held the dog and cat beds she had dragged there the night before, and she toed them out of the way to get to the cage at the far end of the countertop. Two squeaking fancy rats climbed the bars of their cage as she approached.

  “I see you two are up bright and early this morning,” she said as she raised the top off the cage. “Good morning, Templeton,” she said, and allowed the fatter rat to nibble at her fingertips before she scooped him up. “Did you eat all the food again?”

  She stroked his silky fur for a few moments, then grabbed the larger of the hamster balls and stuffed him in. He rolled around on the floor slowly as if the effort was too much to bear. “You and Charlie really take the cake,” she scolded with a grin. “Two lazier boys I have never met in my life.”

  Then she turned her attention to the other rat. He was slimmer, a light, caramel brown, and waited patiently for her to dip her arm back in the cage. Then he climbed carefully up onto her shoulder where he sat patiently while she changed the food and water in his shared cage.

  “You’re such a good boy, Feivel.”

  When the cage was clean, she gave him a little squeeze and a long stroke down his back, then placed him gently back inside. “Eat your fill before Fat Boy gets back in,” she told him, then moved onto the aquarium beside the cage.

  A beautiful betta with alternating patches of pale and bright blue swam gracefully through the water. She bent down to check him out. “How’s my favorite little fighter today?” she asked, then took the top off his aquarium. She pulled a paper towel off a nearby roll and skimmed the film off the top of the water. “Ready to get some action, are we, Mr. Limpet?” She tossed the paper towel in the trash can, sprinkled a few red pellets onto the water, then replaced the top. “You’re not the only one,” she said, and watched as he nibbled on the first food pellet.

  She repeated the procedure with the next tank. The shiny orange goldfish bubbled at her as she fed him. “And how are you today, Krinklebein?” He o
pened his mouth again. “Always a pleasure to speak to you.”

  The last tank held a bulbous toad. He watched her as she added some filtered water to his dish and poked around to find any uneaten crickets. One she found was dead, so she scooped it out, tossed it in the trash, and replaced it with a live slug. She slid the top back on his tank and watched him crawl over the peat moss to stalk the slug. The gash on his back was nearly healed.

  “Next week you should be good to go, your highness. Back to life in the great outdoors where you belong.”

  She left the toad to his dinner, grabbed the hamster ball just as Templeton rolled himself nearly out the door, and put the rat back into his cage with the full and napping Feivel. “Have a good day, boys. I’ll be back after work.”

  On her way to work, she stopped and bought a bouquet of fresh wildflowers from a young man selling them on the side of the road. She breathed in the fresh morning air as she walked, glad to see no cars were on the road this early, and thought about what she would say to Brenda today.

  She had to convince her to start planning the procedures Stanley needed, even though she didn’t have all the money or Kenna’s approval yet. That was coming; if her plans with Stella worked, they would have everything they needed in the next couple of days.

  “Brenda, I know you think I shouldn’t try to save them all, but this is just one little dog,” she practiced. An old man handing out samples of pastries gave her a funny look as she passed his storefront. “Please be reasonable,” she continued, ignoring everything going on around her.

  The street she walked was a historical dream; most of the stores had been around for fifty years or more, often being passed down through the generations to children and grandchildren. If not for the modern traffic lights and an ATM outside the bank, the place would look at home in the 1960s.