by Adan Ramie
They all turned to face Kenna. She had her bags slung over her shoulders and her shoes in one hand. Everything about her seemed to have lost its luster; even her golden, permed hair seemed to have deflated.
“What’s going on, Kenna?” Chuck asked. She had only seen her look this disheveled twice before: the day she found out her beloved miniature Dotson, Gracie, had cancer, and the day the little dog passed away.
“I was swept up in trying to handle Saving Gracie’s financial woes by myself, and losing the battle.” She glanced at Stella, then back to Chuck. “Then she came in, a whirlwind of fantastic ideas and happy vibes, and I felt like I was being encroached upon. It felt like you were trying to replace me here, too.”
Stella looked from Kenna to Chuck. “I’m not trying to replace anyone.”
Kenna laughed, and it sounded hollow. “You might not be trying to, but you already have. Between the three of you, this place could actually be a success.” She looked into Chuck’s eyes. “And, moreover, it could be the kind of place it was meant to be. A shelter, a refuge for unwanted animals, exactly what the three of us set out to create all those years ago in Gracie’s name.”
She chewed her lip. Chuck knew if she had been anyone else, her cheeks would be streaked with tears, but Kenna had never shed a tear that she could remember. Brenda opened her mouth to speak, but Kenna held up a hand to keep her quiet.
“I don’t want to,” Stella said, but Kenna shook her head.
Kenna sucked in a breath, then let it out, and Chuck watched as all the tension in her shoulders left with it. As wrecked as she looked, she also seemed radiant, as if a heavy weight had been lifted.
“You can do whatever you want to do,” she told Stella, then turned to Chuck and Brenda. “Saving Gracie’s is yours now. I put one third of the debt we owe on my credit cards. That should give you both a little wiggle room while you restructure. I can’t do this anymore. Running this place was supposed to help me work through my grief over Gracie, and it did that years ago. But what it’s doing now, the stress I am under on a daily basis... It isn’t worth it to me anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” Chuck said, and reached out a hand to her. “I had no idea it was so hard on you.”
“Of course it’s hard on me,” Kenna said, her voice dropping to a whisper as a child walked by with a puppy. “Not only am I tasked with keeping this place from going under, I have to see you every day, and remember what a failure our relationship was. After ten years, you would think we would have been able to work it out. At the very least, that we might be amicable. But we hate each other.”
“I don’t hate you, Kenna.”
Kenna laughed. “Yes, you do.” She pulled out her keyring, the same large contraption Chuck and Brenda both had, and pulled off a smaller ring. She stuck it in her purse, then handed the larger set to Chuck. “I don’t need these anymore. Give them to her,” she said, indicating Stella, “or one of the kids, or the Monopoly Man, for all I care. I have drawn up all the papers taking my name off Saving Gracie’s, signed them, and you can find them on my old desk.”
Brenda finally spoke up. “Kenna, wait.”
Kenna turned to look out the open door as another customer made the bird chime hum. “There is no way you can talk me into staying, Brenda. It’s not worth it to me anymore.” She looked at Chuck. “I wish you happiness and all the luck in the world.”
Before any of them could say another word, Kenna weaved through the customers and left the shelter with her head held high, enveloped in an air of peace. Chuck gawked at her back, then turned to Brenda.
“What are we going to do?”
Brenda raised her hands in question. “I have no idea. I guess we hit this adoption drive hard and heavy. We have debt to pay.”
“Let me start another campaign online,” Stella said, and breezed past them to the back room where her computer was stashed.
“What a trip,” Brenda said. “Landon is watching over Stanley. If anything changes, he has been instructed to come get one of us immediately. Let’s get to work out here.” She patted Chuck on the back, then made her own way to the front door to welcome in the newest customers.
Chuck stared at her sister for a moment before the reality of the situation set in, and her furiously pumping heartbeat filled her ears. This was it. Day One of the life she had been dreaming of since the first time she realized things between her and Kenna had soured forever. The shelter was exclusively under the control of the Billard sisters. And, as if a flame had been lit under her, she started to move.
The first thing she did was check out how Yarely was doing at the cash register. “How’s it going, Relly?” she asked with a smile.
The disheveled girl thanked the customer, handed back a receipt and an adoption bag, then looked up at her with a happy but weary expression. “Hasn’t stopped,” she said.
Chuck pushed her out of the way and shooed her toward the back. “Go take a break. Snacks are set up in the storage room if you want some.”
Yarely thanked her and disappeared through the heavy, metal door to the back hallway. Chuck turned to the next customer in line and came face-to-face with Bozo the St. Bernard. Her face split in a grin, and she reached out to give him a stroke on the muzzle.
“Good choice,” she said to the man in line. “Bozo is one of my favorites.”
The man patted the dog on the head and pulled out his wallet. He held out his credit card, then pulled it back with an uncertain glance at the dog. “I was told he would be good with kids. More gentle than he looks.”
“Absolutely. He knows when to gallop and when to tiptoe as if he is in a china shop. He is one of the gentlest dogs I have ever met, and he has never done anything that would make me think he is not a good fit for your family. I would trust him with my own child,” Chuck said. If she had a child, which she realized she might one day, she would absolutely let a dog like Bozo spend time with it. Then, any child of hers would have to get used to animal contact very quickly.
“Good. My son has Down Syndrome, and he has been asking for a dog for two years. I didn’t think he needed a dog, but since his mother left....” He smiled sheepishly and handed over the card. “Sorry, you don’t need to know my life story.”
Chuck ran the card and handed it back to him. She grabbed an adoption bag, tucked in a couple extra toys, and handed it over. “Very few things bring out the stories – or the emotions – in people like animals do. You don’t need to be sorry.” She scratched behind Bozo’s ears again and looked the big dog in the eyes. “You be a good boy and take care of,” she turned to the man, “what’s your son’s name?”
“Pauley.”
“You take care of Pauley. He is going to be your best friend.” She kissed the dog on the nose, then held out a hand. The man took it, and she squeezed tightly. “My card is in that bag. If this guy ever gives you any issues, please do not hesitate to give me a call. I can walk you through how to fix it, or you can bring him in for a few more obedience lessons. As it is, he has had several, though, and should be a good boy for you.”
The man pulled her into a short, side hug, then cleared his throat and wrapped the leash tighter around his hand. “Thank you for the offer. I appreciate it.”
“Oh, and if you want to send us a picture of Pauley with his new pal, we would love to add him to our board.” She gestured at a cork board stuck with pictures of animals and babies, kids, couples, and whole extended families.
“I’ll do that,” the man said. He nodded his goodbye at Chuck, she nodded back, then he led the St. Bernard into the crowd toward the front door.
Chuck watched him retreat for a moment, then turned to the next person in line. “What do we have here?”
Two men stepped forward holding two puppies each. The first man was giddy with excitement, even though he had a pee stain on his shirt where one of the puppies lost control, and he laughed as they licked his face. The second didn’t look as thrilled, but Chuck didn’t see any malice in him. He mi
ght not have signed on for four new pets, but he was willingly going along with his partner’s wishes, so Chuck didn’t feel the need to intervene.
“Hello, gentlemen,” she said.
“We would like to adopt these four little squirts,” the second man said. He struggled to shift one puppy and free up an arm, so Chuck reached over and liberated it by taking the chocolate-colored poodle from him. It wiggled with excitement as she took it in her arms. “Thanks,” he said, and pulled out his wallet with the free arm.
“No problem,” Chuck said. “Did you fill out and turn in your adoption form over there?” she asked, pointing to the desk where Gwen was sitting.
“We did.” He handed over his card. “Four puppies.” He chuckled. “We came in just to look.”
Chuck laughed as she swiped his card, then handed it back. “I know how that goes. I have several pets at home, but every time I’m here, I fall in love with another one of the animals we save. In fact, there’s one special dog we are raising money to help today...” Chuck trailed off. She had forgotten that Stanley might not make it, and her throat started to constrict. Tears pricked her eyes. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, let me get your adoption kits.” She ducked behind the counter, took a slow, deep breath, then stood back up with four of the little bags. “Collars, treats, toys – these should get you started on spoiling the little rascals.”
“And they will definitely be spoiled,” the man said, taking first the bags, then the poodle puppy. “Good luck with your donation drive.” He managed to slip a twenty in the jar on the counter. “I hope the dog is okay.”
“Thanks!” she said with a little too much enthusiasm. “Me too.” She excused herself from the line, grabbed Zack, and pushed him in front of the cash register. “Take over for me for a few minutes, okay?”
Chuck didn’t wait for a response, but strode quickly through the crowd, pushed through the door to the crowded hallway, and made her way precariously to the sick room. She released Landon to the adoption drive, shook his hand and thanked him for standing vigil, then walked into the sick room. Once inside, she closed the door behind her and leaned on it. It was all too much. There were too many people, and she felt too much that she was struggling to hide.
The steady beep of the machine Stanley was hooked to caught her attention. She fought with herself for a moment, then stepped forward. If he was going to die, the least she could do was say goodbye. After all, she was the one who had put him through all the pain... and for what? For a few more days of miserable existence, then this? Life as a vegetable while the world went on around him, then a swift, painless death? What she had done was obscene, but she couldn’t figure out when things had gone sideways. Had it really been a lost cause from the beginning like Kenna and Brenda had said?
Stanley lay prone with an oxygen mask strapped to his muzzle. One leg was shaven from the paw to up past his hip, and a stiff, neon yellow-wrapped cast held it in place. Chuck reached down, pulled off his oxygen mask, and gently ran her fingertips over his forehead to behind his ears. It was heartbreaking to see him so still, but she comforted herself in knowing he couldn’t be in pain.
“I’m sorry I put you through all this, little man,” she whispered. “I thought you would be okay. I just wanted to see you have a better life, the kind of life a guy like you deserves. You got a raw deal, Stanley. Whoever hurt you, I hope they never get their hands on another animal again.”
As she spoke, her breathing was ragged, and she kept running her fingers along his matted fur. She had seen animals in bad shape before, seen animals that had to be euthanized immediately, but she had never gotten attached to another who had such a small chance of survival. She dropped her head to his neck and cried.
“I’m so sorry, Stanley. If you need to go, go. Don’t hang on for me, for Brenda, for Stella, or whoever owned you before we met. Don’t put yourself through misery for us. We will make it without you.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “It will suck, and I’m going to miss you already, but it’s not worth it to live in pain.”
The door to the room opened, but Chuck stayed put. She kept her face buried in his fur and the same motion of her fingers along his ears even after she felt the hand on her back.
“What?” she asked, her voice muffled by fur and tears.
Arms snaked around and wrapped her in a bear hug, and it made her cry harder. The beeping of the heart rate monitor slowed. The arms hugged tighter as the beeps waxed and waned.
“I was so selfish,” she said.
“No, you weren’t,” Stella whispered, unwrapping one of her arms from Chuck to smooth Chuck’s hair back from where it had fallen over her face. “You wanted him to have a better life. You put a lot of work into trying to save him. There is nothing selfish about that.”
Stanley’s front leg twitched, and Chuck lifted her head to stare at him. When he didn’t move again, she let Stella pull her back away from him and into her arms. They sat quietly and watched Stanley breathing.
“I wanted to save him for myself,” Chuck said. “I needed to know that lost causes could make it for my own selfish reasons.”
Stella kissed Chuck’s cheek and ran her fingertips along Chuck’s arm. “There is no such thing as a lost cause, Chuck Billard. Even when things don’t work out the way we planned, there is always something to be gained from our experiences. If he dies today, you have still achieved something a lot of people thought was impossible.”
“What do you mean?”
Stella nudged Chuck out of her arms, then turned her around so that they were facing each other. “Do you not realize what happened today? Instead of being co-owners with your ex, you and your sister are now beholden only to each other and your bill collectors. You have raised enough money to pay for all of the care Stanley needed at least three times over. And you have brought dozens of sweet animals together with people who will love and care for them.” She brushed Chuck’s hair behind her ear, then ran the tips of her fingers along Chuck’s jaw. “Wouldn’t you consider any of that a victory?”
Chuck looked from Stella to Stanley and back, then dropped her eyes to the floor. “I guess. I just wanted him to live so badly. I wanted to save him, and I wanted to say we did that together.” She looked up into Stella’s eyes. “I wanted to share him with you.”
Stella smiled and stepped forward. She placed her hand on Chuck’s chest above her heart. “No matter what happens today, we will always share him. We will always have today and this fight to keep us connected.”
“But without sharing custody, what reason will I have to call you?” Chuck asked. She knew it was more than that, but the masochistic part of her wanted Stella to lash out at her for being a selfish brat.
Stella stepped forward, edged her hips in between Chuck’s legs, and wrapped Chuck’s arms around her. She leaned in close so that they could feel each other’s breath. “I was hoping we would have this.” She snaked her arms around the back of Chuck’s neck, pulled her face closer, and their lips connected.
Chuck pulled her closer, deepened the kiss, and for a long moment, nothing around them mattered. Everything fell away as they explored each other’s mouths and their hands started to roam each other’s bodies. Chuck groaned low in her throat as Stella’s hand found her breast and squeezed her nipple gently between her fingers.
Stella was the first to break the kiss. Her hands fell to Chuck’s waist, and she leaned her head back to look into Chuck’s eyes. “So, what do you think, Chuck?”
Chuck pulled her closer, almost crushing her into a hug, and kissed the top of her head. “I think I don’t know how I lived without you for so long. How did I get lucky enough for you to come into my life when I needed you the most?”
Stella nuzzled her head into Chuck’s neck and gave her a squeeze. “Maybe Stan the man is your guardian angel.”
Chuck took Stella’s hand and turned around to face the Yorkie. His eyes were open a crack, and his tongue had snuck out of his mouth and onto the table. His fro
nt paw twitched. Only then did Chuck realize the heart monitor was beeping regularly, slow but steady.
“Stanley?” she asked, and reached a hand up to stroke his ears.
He let out a little growl, and she pulled her hand back.
“Is he supposed to be aggressive after surgery?” Stella asked, squatting down and peeking into his eyes.
Chuck cleared her throat. “It happens more often than people think. We might need to muzzle him at first to keep him from doing something he wouldn’t normally do.”
Stella stood up and looked from Stanley to Chuck. “Do you want me to come over and help you with him tonight?”
The words sent a shock through Chuck’s nervous system. The idea of this woman she had grown to care for coming to spend the night at her house was almost too much to handle. She nodded, and Stella squeezed her hand.
“Stay here with our boy, and I will go get Brenda. I am sure she will want to check on him,” Stella said, squeezed her hand again, then walked out the door and closed it softly behind her.
“Did you hear that, Stanley? You’re ‘our boy’ now.”
She squatted down and looked into his face. His eyes followed her as she moved, and instead of growling, this time he let out a pathetic moan that made Chuck’s stomach churn.
“I know you don’t feel good, buddy. But Auntie Brenda is coming with something for your pain soon.” She risked brushing his ears with her fingertips, and he closed his eyes in response. “My poor baby.”
The door opened behind her, and Chuck stood up to step aside for her sister. Brenda walked quickly to his side, pulled on a pair of gloves, and went about examining the little dog. She looked in his eyes, listened to his breathing, and took his temperature while Stella and Chuck looked on. When she was done, she snapped off her gloves and turned to them with a smile.
“He is definitely out of the woods,” she told them. “You did good, Chucky.”
Chuck smiled. Even the nickname could not put a damper on the good mood swelling in her chest. She reached out just as Stella did, and their fingers twined together without a word or a look. Brenda noticed.
