Atticus

by S. Bennett

  “Is that your dog?” he demands of Hazel.

  She stares at him as she grabs my leash, face as red as the begonias she planted around Oley’s front porch this spring. “I am so sorry. He got away from me. He’s never done anything like this.”

  If dogs could snort, I would so snort. I do bad stuff like this all the time.

  Hazel continues to stammer apologies to the coffee man without once bothering to look at the man whose smell led me here. I give a loud bark to get her attention, and she turns to glare at me.

  “Let’s go,” she says sharply, giving a tug on my leash. She is really, really mad.

  I bark again… defiant as ever.

  And then the man sitting at the table speaks. “Hazel?”

  She turns her head slowly, and then a huge smile breaks out on her face. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen her smile like that because Oley has made her so sad lately.

  “Jack?” she exclaims. “Oh my God. Small world.”

  Yes! Jack! That’s his name. From when I played with his dog Scout some time back.

  “Will you please get that damn dog out of here?” the coffee man says in a voice that makes me want to growl at him and take a little nip.

  “Do you drink coffee?” Jack asks Hazel as he stands from the table.

  She’s flustered because the coffee guy is a jerk, and she backs away while pulling me along. “Um… yeah, I do.”

  “What kind?” Jack asks.

  “The dog,” the guy snarls again, and I would really love to poop in his shoes.

  “Come on, Jud,” Jack cajoles. “She’s leaving, but I want to buy her a cup of coffee.”

  Jack then turns to Hazel. “Tell me what kind and we’ll sit at one of the tables outside.”

  Hazel tilts her head to the side, perplexed at this chain of events. She only hesitates a moment. “Regular coffee with some cream and sugar.”

  “Got it,” Jack says with a grin.

  We head toward the door, weaving our way back through tables as people smile and laugh at me. I high step it the entire time.

  Hazel chooses a table outside furthest from the door. When she takes a seat, I sit down right beside her.

  “Did you know he was in there?” Hazel asks me, her voice filled with wonder as her hand scratches at the back of my neck. My lips are all pulled back in full doggie smile as I pant and puff out my chest with pride over what I’ve done.

  “Of course you knew he was in there,” Hazel breathes out softly. “You’re a wonder dog.”

  Yes. I. Am.

  CHAPTER 49

  Hazel

  I didn’t think it possible, but Atticus continues to surprise me. Of course he knew Jack was in there. He ran right up to him.

  I’m beyond astounded he could smell him, or that he would even remember his smell. I seem to remember a really amazing cologne he’d been wearing, but I didn’t smell it just now.

  I’d thought about Jack a few times here and there following our meeting, but it’s been a long time since he’s crossed my mind. Mostly because it’s filled with a lot of other stuff surrounding Oley’s diagnosis, but also because there was no need to dwell on someone I’d never see again.

  “Here you go,” I hear Jack say, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glance up and just damn… he’s even more attractive than I remember.

  Jack sets the coffee before me, rubs Atticus’ head as he passes, and takes the chair opposite of me. He leans back casually and props an ankle on top of his knee. Resting his cup on his jean-covered thigh, he just stares at me with an amused smile.

  I stare back because he’s so pretty and why bother with words?

  We just look at each other until it becomes awkward. I finally snort, and then we both start laughing.

  “I can’t believe I’m running into you like this,” he finally says still chuckling.

  “Well, in fairness… Atticus did the running,” I point out.

  “Did he know I was in that shop?”

  “I kind of think he did,” I tell him, wondering if that makes my dog sound weird. Speaking of dogs… “And how’s Scout?”

  Jack’s expression turns soft. “He’s good. He’s actually with my ex-wife this week. We split custody.”

  My jaw drops open. I’ve never heard of such a thing, and whoa… he was married?

  “Oh,” I mutter, not quite knowing what the proper response is to that. I decide to indulge curiosity instead. “Do you have kids? You know… I mean, human kids?”

  “Nope.” His eyes get a little wistful. “But God knows, Scout is just like a kid. I’m sure you know what I mean by that.”

  “Sure do,” I say with a laugh. Atticus is my child.

  “So what are you doing here?” he asks, waving a hand at our general surroundings. “I just sort of assumed you lived in Wilmington. Never thought I’d run into you here.”

  “I live here,” I answer with a nod before picking up my coffee. I take the lid off to blow on the top. It smells wonderful. “And you?”

  “Yup,” he says with a grin. “Born and raised.”

  “Totally a small world,” I say before risking a sip of the hot beverage. It’s divine and Jack doctored it up with the perfect amount of cream and sugar for me.

  “What are you up to today?” Jack asks me.

  I throw my thumb over my shoulder. “Heading to the hardware store.”

  “It’s not open right now,” he says.

  “Well, crap.” I crane my neck over my shoulder at the business. It’s two doors down from the coffee shop and dark inside. “The website said it opened at nine.”

  Jack shrugs. “That’s what you get with a small business owner.”

  “I guess,” I reply as I turn back to face him. “Oh, well… hopefully they’ll open soon.”

  “They’ll open whenever you want them to open,” Jack tells me with a mischievous grin.

  I cock an eyebrow at him. “What’s the inside joke?”

  “I own the place,” he says with a laugh. “It’s a family business, and I took over for my dad when he retired a few years ago. I was just having my usual morning coffee before heading in.”

  “Oh, Lord,” I say as I start to stand from my chair. “I’m keeping you.”

  “You’re not,” he assures me, but he stands as well. “But let’s head over, and I can help you with whatever your hardware needs are.”

  Coffee in one hand, dog leash in the other, I head with Jack over to his store. It’s called Main Street Hardware, although we aren’t on Main Street. I ask him about it.

  “It used to be on Main Street, which is a few blocks over,” he says, pointing in that direction. “We moved over here when they started refurbishing the area.”

  “To expand?” I ask.

  “To downsize, actually,” he says as we reach the front door. The whole front of the store is glass, and there’s a pretty green awning over the exterior. “It’s hard to compete with Home Depot and Lowe’s these days. But they were offering great leasing deals on the retail space here, so I decided to make the move.”

  Jack pushes the door open, and motions for me and Atticus to precede him in. As I brush past, I don’t smell the cologne he’d been wearing before, but I can smell a fresh, woodsy sort of scent I assume is his soap or shampoo. It’s delicious.

  Atticus and I mill around while Jack turns on the lights and boots up a computer at the checkout counter. It’s a cute little store with only a handful of aisles. Each product is beautifully displayed, and there are only a few of each item. He doesn’t have the big-ticket items like doors, cabinets, lighting, and lumber that the bigger stores do. But he sells paint, along with small hardware like hinges and hand tools and such. One wall is devoted to gardening supplies.

  “So what do you need today?” Jack asks as he comes up behind me.

  I dig down into my pocket to pull out the list that Oley had written out. It’s for the chicken coop he and Bernard will be starting soon. He’s using some old reclaimed lum
ber he had stored in the barn.

  Jack peruses the list, silently reading out the words. He looks up to me and says, “I’ve got most of this, but I’ll have to order roofing shingles and possibly the flashing, although I might have some in the back.”

  “Sweet,” I say, rocking onto the balls of my feet and nodding.

  “What are you building?” he asks as he grabs a handheld basket and heads down an aisle.

  “A chicken coop,” I answer as Atticus and I follow along.

  “You’re a handy girl,” he says with a laugh.

  “Oh, I’m not the one building it. My friend Oley is.”

  “That wouldn’t be Oley Peele by any chance, would it?” Jack asks as he turns to look at me.

  My jaw drops. “Yeah. How did you know?”

  Jack laughs, turning to start pulling boxes of various sized nails off the shelf. “Well, Oley’s not a very common name. He and my dad know each other well. He would treat our family’s animals, and Oley always did his hardware shopping with us.”

  So that’s why Oley recommended this place. He didn’t tell me I had to come here, but he suggested it. I hadn’t been down to this area of town since they started opening new businesses. It used to be loaded with bars and hookers, but now it’s all cleaned up and with pretty storefronts.

  “So how is he doing these days?” Jack asks amiably while he loads up the basket.

  I swallow hard, take a deep breath, then say, “Not well. He’s got cancer.”

  Jack’s head snaps my way, his gaze sorrowful. “What’s his prognosis?”

  I shrug. “A few months. Maybe longer. This chicken coop has been on a project list for a long time. Years, he says. And he’s bound and determined to build it before he dies.”

  The last words come out a little choked up, and Atticus pushes his head into my hand for a good dose of puppy serenity.

  Jack takes me by the elbow, and I don’t question it as he leads me up to the checkout register. He lets me go and walks around the counter, grabbing a stool that sits there. He brings it back around, tapping his finger on the padded seat.

  I sit down, holding Atticus’ leash loosely in my hand. He drops to the cool cement floor and puts his head on his paws, staring up at me from under his eyebrows.

  Jack jumps up on the counter, sitting adjacent to my stool. “Start from the beginning.”

  I blink at him in confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “Start from the beginning,” he repeats. “Tell me everything.”

  What exactly is the beginning? When did Oley become so dear to me that I know his death is going to crush me hard?

  “A few weeks ago, I took him to the doctor.”

  He shakes his head. “No… start at the very beginning.”

  My gaze drops to Atticus for a moment before coming back to Jack with a smile. He wants to know it all.

  “Okay,” I tell him in fond remembrance. “Once upon a time, there was this puppy in a ditch, wrapped in barbed wire, freezing and starving…”

  ♦

  I pull into Oley’s driveway, giving a short glance in my rearview mirror. Jack’s white truck pulls in behind me.

  I’d spent far too long at the hardware store, talking to Jack, but Oley would never begrudge me that. I started at the beginning as he’d asked, ending up a blubbering mess by the time I told him about Oley deciding not to fight the cancer.

  When I’d finished and my tears were dried, Jack simply said, “Let’s get the rest of your supplies and head out to Oley’s.”

  This came about because I’d lamented the fact Oley and Bernard were going to build this coop together, and neither of them knew what the hell they were doing. They were going to follow some plans I’d found on the internet, but Oley’s expertise was in refurbishing old cars and I don’t think Bernard had ever wielded a hammer in his life.

  I pull in beside the Impala, and Jack parks behind me. After I unclip Atticus from his leash, he jumps out of my Jeep and takes off around the back of the house. I’d left Oley and Bernard there mulling over the plans and sorting out the stacks of wood they had on hand. I didn’t think much in the way of actual building was going to be accomplished, and I’m glad Jack is here to lend an expert eye.

  “This is a beautiful piece of property,” Jack comments as he looks around.

  “I know,” I reply wistfully. I’ve come to think of this as simply “home” to me. I point out to the right. “There’s a pet cemetery out there. And he leases out some pastures, so there are cows around back.”

  “Why does he want a chicken coop?” Jack asks.

  I shrug. “I think they had chickens when he was a boy. I guess a nod to his childhood or something. Plus… yum. Fresh eggs.”

  Jack tips back his head and laughs. “There’s that.”

  God, he’s got a great laugh.

  A wonderful smile.

  And his arms… they’re really nice, too.

  I grin on the inside, having no regrets or guilt over being appreciative of how handsome Jack is. I’m living in a dire world right now with Oley’s diagnosis, but I know better than to turn my nose up at something good.

  And by good, I mean Jack is going to be a good friend. I can tell. He was clearly put in my path, and his readiness to jump in to help a woman who is a virtual stranger, and a man who’s nothing more than an acquaintance, speaks volumes for the type of man he is.

  CHAPTER 50

  Atticus

  I don’t even know what to do with myself. So many people in Oley’s house.

  So much potential for people to sneak food to me or scratch behind my ears.

  Where to start?

  I pad into the living room to assess the situation. Most everyone’s stopped eating, but Carl still has a slice of pizza in his hand.

  Carl is Jack’s dad. He came out to visit not long after Jack started helping with the chicken coop last month. Since then, he and Jack have joined the Friday night pizza and baseball crowd. I have to cross in front of the TV to get to him, and Oley calls out to me, “Come on, Atticus. You make a better wall than a window.”

  He rolls slightly in his recliner, trying to see around me. His beloved Braves are playing.

  Oley smells worse. The scent of rot overpowers the dustiness and that’s not good. He spends a lot of time these days in his recliner.

  I move out of his way to sit beside Carl. He spares me a glance and a pat to the head. I stare hungrily at the pizza in his hand, but he doesn’t get the hint.

  I lean my head toward the hand holding the gooey goodness, and my nose twitches over how good it smells. Carl’s eyes are glued to the TV, the pizza just hangs there limply. I part my mouth and lean in just a bit further—

  “Dad, you better watch, Atticus,” Jack says from the couch with a laugh. He’s in the middle between Trey and Bernard. “He’s going to get your pizza and quite possibly your hand by the look in his eye.”

  Busted.

  Carl pulls the slice toward his body while giving me a disapproving look. I tilt my head, soften my eyes, and give a tiny chuff of hope.

  Carl grins and relents. He breaks off some of the crust, then tosses it at me. Because I suck at catching things, it bounces off my snout and falls to the floor. I pounce on it before anyone can think to stake claim.

  It’s too yummy to even chew so I swallow it whole, sending another pleading look at Carl.

  “No more,” he says sternly.

  That sounds pretty adamant, so I decide to hunt elsewhere.

  I cross—quickly this time—back in front of the TV and head toward Trey. He sees me, already shaking his head. “Don’t have anything for you, buddy.”

  When I cock my head at Jack and Bernard, they both smirk at me. I’ve struck out there, too.

  Oh, well… to the kitchen. Normally, Benji’s good about tossing me scraps, but he’s with Alicia tonight. Ever since Oley got struck with the rot inside of him, Liz and Trey joined the Friday night festivities. I think Hazel’s intent is to surround Oley w
ith as much love and camaraderie as possible before he goes, and it’s a brilliant plan. I can feel the happiness roll off Oley when people show up to see him.

  Hazel and Liz are in the kitchen, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen counter while sipping beers. Their heads are in close, and they’re talking quietly.

  My ears perk and I shamelessly eavesdrop, because I have superior canine hearing.

  “Seriously, Hazel,” Liz says with a tsking sort of sound. “Is he ever going to make a move?”

  “I don’t know,” Hazel replies softly. “At this point, I’m beginning to think he just wants to be friends.”

  Aha.

  They’re talking about Jack.

  He and Hazel have been hanging out some this past month since they reconnected. He’s even brought Scout over a few times. We run all over the farm, chase the ducks in the pond, and bark at the cows together. He’s a lot of fun.

  But I’m not sure what more Hazel wants. He’s a friend to her. The way Bernard is. Or Charmin.

  I’m not sure I understand the tone of her voice, which is slightly wistful with a little bit of frustration laced in.

  “I don’t get it,” Liz murmurs. “You guys go out to dinner and movies. He comes out to hang out on the farm. You drop by to see him at the hardware store. But he hasn’t even tried to kiss you once. Do you think he’s gay?”

  “He was married before,” Hazel points out.

  “Means nothing,” Liz counters. I don’t know what gay is, but I hope it’s not something bad. I don’t want anything to cause Hazel more sadness. Her plate is full enough with that already.

  I understand Oley is dying. Technically, I don’t really understand the exact consequences of such an event, but his body is failing. I can smell it. I can also see it.

  I think it means he’ll be gone one day, and then he’ll be no more. That makes me terribly sad, too.

  Hazel has been a trooper, though. She manages to keep the clinic going with Marsha, running back and forth to the house during day to make him lunch or check on him. I stay with Oley while Hazel works, and I don’t even mind not being with her at the clinic. I think my job right now is to be vigilant and protective of Oley.