by Kathi Daley
“Maybe we can talk her into coming out for a few days,” Alyson said.
“Maybe.” I turned on the radio and settled back to enjoy the drive. It was a warm, sunny day and the urge to shuck all responsibility and drive to the beach was strong. There was something about spring on the Oregon coast that made anyone who was fortunate enough to visit or live there want to break out in song and dance.
“I’ve really missed this,” I said wistfully as I drove along the coast road. “The crashing waves, the rocky shoreline, the white sand beaches, the abundant sunshine.”
“So why didn’t you visit?” Alyson asked. “The house was waiting. Shadow was waiting. I was waiting.”
I rolled down my window and took a deep breath of the salty air. “I don’t know. I didn’t plan to stay away so long. I guess I just got busy, and the longer I was gone the easier it was to stay gone.” I turned slightly to glance at my counterpart. “I can’t believe it’s been ten years. Now that I’m back, it feels like I never left.”
“That’s what it’s like to go home. No matter how long you’ve been away, it’s always there waiting for you.”
I knew for a fact that wasn’t always true. After Mom and I were put into witness protection, everyone other than my father was told we were dead. An announcement had been made that we’d died in a car accident, and our family held a funeral for us. At the time, we’d been convinced our disappearance was for the best, but imagine everyone’s surprise when, two years later, we’d come home and had to explain we’d always been alive. To say the reintegration into our old lives was awkward was putting it mildly.
When we arrived at the wharf, I found a spot to park near the tall white fence that separated it from the water below. I got out and walked to the little fish market, which, luckily, was still where I’d remembered it. With all the sunshine, there were quite a few people out and about, some fishing, others sharing a meal or beverage at one of the small cafés sprinkled along the boardwalk.
“I see the hot-dog-on-a-stick place is still here,” I said as we passed the brightly decorated stand that still hand-dipped the dogs in the batter.
“Oh, and the chili fries.” Alyson twirled around in a circle, as if to display her happiness. “Everything smells so wonderful. I’d forgotten.”
“I haven’t eaten hot dogs or French fries in years.”
“Can we have some?” Alyson asked.
“Not today. I want to be sure to save plenty of room for the chowder.” I could almost taste the fresh seafood slowly cooked in thick cream sauce with chunks of onion and potato. I continued to the fish counter, where I ordered fresh scallops, crabs, clams, and even a lobster. When everything was wrapped and paid for, I continued down the wharf to the farmers market to buy the greens for the salad. I added a fresh loaf of sourdough bread and a couple of bottles of local wine, then headed back to the car.
“I guess we should get this home,” I commented as I put everything on the backseat. “We have what we need for dinner. I think I’ll wait and go to the market tomorrow.”
“Can we drive down to the beach and put our feet in the sand?” Alyson asked. “Just for a minute?”
I shrugged. “Okay. But just for a minute.”
While there were a lot of beaches in the area, the one at the base of the wharf was covered with the finest sand you were likely to find anywhere along the coast. I don’t know why the sand in this one area was so different from what was found in other places, but when you stepped into it, the image of silk came to mind.
I found a place to park in the shade and got out of the car. When I got to the sand, I took off my sandals and let my bare feet sink into the softness. It felt heavenly. I walked slowly toward the water’s edge while Alyson romped like a puppy. I wondered if this was what it would be like to have a daughter. Ethan and I had never discussed having children. Heck, we’d never discussed marriage. We both lived full lives with demanding jobs. Our undemanding and undefined relationship seemed to suit us. Ethan was sophisticated and ambitious. He loved his high-rise apartment and fast-paced lifestyle. He loved to dine at the finest restaurants and drive the most expensive cars. Ethan was everything Amanda was comfortable with, but I knew he’d find Alyson tiresome.
The sun on my shoulders eased the residual tension I’d been holding on to. The sea was calm and small waves lapped gently onto shore. I felt the chilly water wash over my feet as I stood peacefully and looked out toward the open water. Alluring. Mysterious. Powerful.
I thought about how different my lifestyle was in New York from here as the receding tide pulled the sand from under my feet. I couldn’t say I was any happier here than I was there, or vice versa. It was as if I were two different people living two equally awesome but very different lives.
On a whim, I pulled out my cell and called Ethan. I’d meant to be in touch every day I was away, but somehow the hours seemed to fade one into the next and I hadn’t called since I’d arrived in Cutter’s Cove.
“How’s the investigation going?” Ethan jumped right in, before I had a chance to say hello.
“We’re only just getting started.”
“Any chance you’ll be cutting your trip short? I have tickets to the June Regatta. Personally, I find it tiresome, but you know how important these things are to my career.”
I paused. “The regatta is in just two and a half weeks.”
“That’s right. June 9.”
“I really don’t think I’ll be back that soon. I’ve only just arrived.”
Ethan didn’t respond right away. I could picture his face as he chose his words. Ethan was an exacting man who rarely spoke before he’d given himself time to think. “I know you’ve only just arrived, but I hoped that once you got there you’d realize Carson Cove is no longer part of your life.”
“Cutter’s Cove,” I corrected. “The town is called Cutter’s Cove.”
“Yes. Well, whatever. The point is, you no longer live there. Your life is in New York.”
“I know. And I do miss you. But honestly, being back has been wonderful. I’ve only just begun to get the house in order, but it already feels like home. If you were here, you’d understand. Maybe you can fly out for a weekend? I’d love to show you the house and introduce you to my friends.”
“You know how busy I am.”
“Yes.” I sighed. “I know.”
“Please give the regatta some thought. If I want to get that promotion we both know I deserve, I need to be seen at the right events.”
I bowed my head and looked at my feet as the water rushed over them, splashing up onto my shins. “I know, I really should go. I just wanted to say hi, but I have seafood in the car for the chowder I’m making for dinner.”
“You’re cooking?” Ethan sounded as shocked as if I’d told him I planned to perform brain surgery.
“Yes. I like to cook.”
“We’ve been dating for two years and I’ve never seen you cook a single thing. In fact, I’m pretty sure the oven in your apartment still has the new appliance packaging inside.”
I had to laugh at that. “It very well might, and you’re correct, I don’t cook in New York. Cooking is more of an Alyson thing than an Amanda thing. Amanda likes to dine out and Alyson likes to cook.”
Ethan paused again. Longer. His silence seemed to speak volumes. “Should I be worried about this whole dual personality thing?”
I glanced at Alyson, who was chasing seagulls along the surf line. “Not at all. Having to live as two different people can be confusing, but I’ve missed being Alyson. I’m enjoying spending time as her again. I really do have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow. And go ahead and give the second ticket to the regatta to someone else. I won’t be back for at least a month.”
I hung up and turned back toward the car. I guess I didn’t blame Ethan for not understanding why I would want to return to a life that had been forced upon me by a very tragic set of circumstances. If I’d never left New York, I’m very certain Amanda Parker wo
uld never have wanted to visit a small coastal town on the opposite side of the country. Becoming Alyson wasn’t something I’d wanted at the time, but now that she was a part of me, I treasured it very much.
Driving along the coast road with the wind blowing through the open windows made me wish for the first time I’d bought a convertible rather than a sedan. Of course, a convertible in New York was completely ridiculous, but a convertible on the Oregon coast would be just about perfect.
“Stop,” Alyson screamed.
I slammed on my breaks, which caused my tires to screech and my backend to fishtail as I came to a stop.
“What is it?” I asked as my heart pounded with adrenaline.
“There’s a dog.”
I looked around. It hadn’t felt as if I’d hit anything. “Where?”
“There.” Alyson pointed to a shallow ravine on the side of the road.
By the time I’d pulled the car over to the shoulder and parked, Alyson was already gone. I got out of my car and walked to the edge of the drop-off. At the bottom of the ditch, a few yards back from where I’d stopped, was a lump of gray with Alyson standing over it. I carefully made my way toward where she was crouching. Laying on his side was the most pathetic-looking dog I had ever seen.
I bent down for a closer look. “Hey there, pal,” I said softly.
The dog peered up at me with sad eyes. He wasn’t bleeding, so I didn’t think she’d been hit by a car, although there was no way to know for sure.
“She’s scared,” Alyson said.
“Yes,” I agreed as I slowly ran my hands over the matted fur, checking for injuries. “She’s so thin. Her ribs are sticking out and she smells bad.” I held my breath and turned my head away. “Really bad.”
“Maybe a skunk?”
“Probably.”
“We need to help her,” Alyson said.
I looked back toward the car. I cringed as I considered putting this stinky, filthy dog in my new Mercedes. “Okay.” I carefully lifted the dog, which looked to be a lab or retriever mix, into my arms. She whimpered and trembled but didn’t snap or struggle. I walked as carefully as I could to my car, opened the back door, and slipped her inside. I was conflicted as to what to do with her now that I had her. A trip to the vet was a must. Just before I closed the door the dog whimpered and looked back at me with thankful eyes. I went around to my trunk and grabbed a bottle of water from the stash I always traveled with. I found an empty travel mug and returned to the dog’s side. Carefully pouring water into the mug, I offered the dog a drink. It was a messy method of delivering water and more of it ended up on my seat than inside the dog, but eventually, she stopped panting and laid her head down. I closed the door once again, got behind the wheel, and headed back down the highway.
When we arrived at the same veterinarian’s office where I’d taken Tucker, I went inside and explained my dilemma. I didn’t have an appointment and the dog wasn’t bleeding or outwardly injured, so I had no reason to believe an emergency appointment was necessary, but the receptionist was a kind woman who insisted I bring her in so she could have the vet take a look. I opened the door and slipped on the leash and collar she lent me. The poor dog began to tremble as I lifted her out of the car.
“It’s okay,” I whispered as I set her gently on the ground. I was glad to see she was able to stand and support her own weight. “I know doctors are scary, but I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“Me too,” Alyson piped up.
The dog seemed uncertain, but she obediently followed me into the waiting area, which, thankfully, was empty.
“That’s a powerful smell,” the veterinary technician said as the dog nervously shoved her face into my lap.
“She must have gotten into something,” I apologized as I slowly stroked the dog’s head.
The woman’s eyes softened. “Let’s get her on the scale.”
I got up and led the dog down the short hallway. When we arrived at the scale, which was only a few inches off the ground, I bent down so I was eye to eye with her. “We need to weigh you. Can you climb up?” I patted a hand on the scale. The dog slowly stepped onto it.
“Sixty-two pounds. She should be at least ten pounds heavier. I’m sure the doctor will give you some food designed to put the weight back on.”
“Thank you,” I said to the woman, who led me into a small room with an aluminum table. There was nowhere to sit, so I simply crouched down and petted the filthy dog, trying to ignore the stink while I spoke softly to her. After less than two minutes, a woman in a white lab coat walked in.
“Isn’t Dr. Jones here anymore?” I asked. The woman who had treated Tucker had been older, with short gray hair. This woman was young with long blond hair pulled into a braid.
“She retired two years ago. I’m Dr. Roberts. Tina Roberts.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shook her hand.
“I’m going to run a few tests to check for anything that might require immediate attention, but if those come out okay, I’m going to have you take her home, give her a bath, feed her with the high-protein food I’m going to give you, and ask you to bring her back in a few days.” The vet looked in her ear. “I’ll give you drops for her ears and some vitamins as well.”
“I imagine she’s a stray,” I said. “We should check to see if someone’s looking for her, though.”
“I’ll check with the nearby shelters and put a notice on my website. Once she’s cleaned up, take a photo of her and send it to me. I’ll post it on my bulletin board.” The vet paused. “Given her condition, I’m going to guess no one’s looking for her. Still, you never know what the poor thing has been through.”
I looked at the dog, who was visibly shaking. Poor thing. My heart bled for her.
An hour later, I left with one bag of calorie-dense dog food and another with medicated shampoo, pills, drops, and instructions. My plans to spend the afternoon cooking were suddenly down the drain. I just hoped the seafood I’d purchased would still be okay to cook the following day. Tonight looked like we were in for more pizza.
“Oh my, who’s this?” Mac asked when we got home.
“A stray Alyson found on the side of the road,” I explained as the dog limped suspiciously toward Mac, who had bent down to greet her.
“She seems like a sweetie, but she desperately needs a bath.”
I held up the bottle of medicated shampoo. “A bath will be my first order of business once I get the food I bought put away.”
“You go on ahead with the bath and I’ll take care of the food,” Mac offered.
I smiled. “Thanks. Call Trevor and have him bring a pizza. I realize that will be pizza two nights in a row, but I won’t have time to make the chowder by the time I get this girl cleaned up.”
“I’ll call him. I like pizza. And Trevor won’t mind.”
Luckily, the dog cooperated when I got her into the bathroom. I decided a shower would be easier, so I adjusted the water temperature until it was just right, stepped in, shorts and all, pulled her in, and closed the shower door behind us. The poor thing was terrified at first, so I slowly ran the handheld shower head over her body to wet her fur, speaking slowly and gently the entire time. The shaking lessened, and she began to relax. I imagined the warm water felt good.
“If you aren’t used to a shower, this may be frightening,” I said in a soft voice, which I hoped the dog would find soothing. “I bet that warm water is nice.” I ran my long fingers along the dog’s back, working out some of the knots in her fur as I did so. “Your coat is a beautiful shade under all that grime,” I commented. I could feel the dog begin to relax as I slowly massaged the shampoo in. I squatted down to make sure I wasn’t getting any soap in the dog’s eyes. She reached out and licked me on the cheek. “You’re welcome,” I said as I began to rinse the first lathering of shampoo out of her fur.
I shampooed her twice more and rinsed her thoroughly. I grabbed a large, thick bath sheet to dry her as best I could before opening the show
er door. Even after having been towel dried, her fur held a lot of moisture, so when she shook, water went everywhere. I’d have to add clean bathroom to my list of chores.
After her bath, I took her downstairs and into the kitchen. I measured and poured the amount of food the vet had recommended into one of Tucker’s old bowls that we’d left behind. I filled a dish with water as well and then left the dog to eat while I went down to the basement room we’d used for storage to look for Tucker’s old dog bed.
We’d left so much behind. Most of the things from our lives here, in fact. Mom and I both knew the things that belonged to this life would have no place in the one we were returning to.
“She looks and smells a lot better,” Mac said when I returned to the kitchen.
The dog was curled up on the rug in front of the brick fireplace. Alyson sat on the floor stroking her while she napped. I glanced at the bowls of food and water. Both were empty.
“There was a really good conditioner in the shampoo. I managed to work most of the mats out, but there are a few that will need to be trimmed. I’ll do it when she wakes up.” I looked at the dog bed I’d lugged up from the basement. “I’ll just put this in my room and then I’ll be back down.” I looked out the window. “It looks like it’s going to be a breathtaking sunset. I bought wine if you want to open it and head out to the deck.”
“Sounds perfect.”
When I arrived on the deck, Mac was sitting in a lounge chair, a glass of white wine on the little table next to her. Beside that was a second glass of wine, and on the other side of the table another lounge chair. I noticed there was a third chair nearby, for Trevor when he arrived.
Mac had pulled the large kitchen rug out onto the deck. The dog and Alyson were both curled up on it, and both appeared to be sleeping, although I remembered Alyson didn’t sleep, so perhaps she was just resting. Either way, she looked completely happy. I wondered when the last time I had been as content was. Probably the last time I sat on this deck and watched the sun set with someone I cared about as much as I cared about Mac.
