by Dan Dillard
Chapter 18
I don’t know what time I got back to the Rutledge’s house but the kids were in bed and so were the grandparents. Vicky was on the front porch sipping a cup of coffee and watching the stars. I sat next to her and took her under my arm.
“You smell like booze,” she said.
“Yeah. I guess I do.”
“That’s not sexy, honey.”
It made me laugh. She could always make me laugh.
“No. I guess it isn’t,” I said.
“Did you figure it out, whatever was bothering you?” she asked.
“I did. I really think I did.”
“Was it the curse?”
She really does know me.
“Yeah. Turns out it isn’t a curse after all. Just some very bad timing for all of us.”
“Are you sure?”
I was.
“I do.”
“I’m glad,” she said and hugged me.
We didn’t speak any more that night. It was unnecessary to say anything else. I was glad to have her next to me and she probably thought I’d gone off the deep end a little and she was right. I didn’t tell her about the cancer. That I kept to myself. If I was terminal, I wanted that news to come from the doctor before it came from me. Especially since the inevitable How do you know? could only be answered with, A ghost told me.
Once her coffee was empty, we went inside. I rinsed off in the shower before we lay down in her old high school bed. I remember her telling me she loved me and the smell of her lotion, the softness of her skin and her breath, sweet with toothpaste, as she drew it in and out. She ran her fingers through my hair and then lightly stroked my back. The next time I blinked, it lasted for eight hours.
In the morning, we ate breakfast and hit the road early to get home. I’d taken the entire week off of work, but decided I was going to be fine and so I called to let them know I’d be back a day or two earlier than planned.
As I drove down the old two-lane headed for the interstate, Robin and Sean were in the back, singing and babbling and giggling. Vicky was watching them in the make-up mirror on the back of the passenger-side sun visor. She smiled with the pure contentment of a mother in love with her children.
“We make great kids,” she said.
“Yeah. We do.”
“Maybe we should make some more?”
I laughed and grabbed her thigh, giving it a squeeze.
“Maybe we should practice first?”
She smiled at me with one eyebrow raised and I noticed her eyes were still full of intelligence, love and most importantly, mischief. It was the mischief in which I was most interested. That’s an odd thing to think about just after leaving your brother’s funeral. At least I thought it was.
We drove for several miles before I saw the hand-painted sign on the road side which read:
FREE PUPPIES
I was fairly certain Vicky hadn’t seen it.
I jammed on the brakes and pulled in. She gasped, “Todd, what the hell are you doing?”
The kids laughed in the back. I glanced at them in the rearview and then at Vicky.
“Not sure. Work with me,” I said.
The drive was gravel, but well maintained and it cut through a huge piece of land that had a tiny farm house in its center. I hopped out and walked back toward the house. As I got closer, I saw there was a few dozen acres of vegetables growing behind it. An older man rode a tractor and was busy tearing up some tall grass and weeds on one side of the property. A small terrier sat next to him on the machine. It barked as I approached and the old man looked over to see me. I watched as he shut the tractor off and set the brake. The little dog jumped down and rushed over, sniffing and wagging its tail.
“Morning,” I said.
“Hello there,” he said with a wave, wiping his brow and his hands with a red handkerchief which he produced from the back pocket of his Carhartts.
Vicky stepped out of the car behind me and stood with one arm propped on the open door and the other on the car’s roof. That look said, You wanna tell me what you’re doing, Todd?
I hoped my look told her, Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got some business to attend to, here. Won’t take but a few minutes.
I waved at her and she shrugged and sat back down. I heard the door shut as the man finally reached me with his hand outstretched.
“Hello there. What can I do for you, young man?” he said.
“Puppies,” I said.
He glanced back at the car and twisted his mouth into a smile, or maybe it was a grimace.
“Ah. I take it this is a surprise?”
I nodded. “None as surprised as me.”
He chuckled.
“Come on around back,” he said.
We walked around his small home to a screened-in porch. It was just out of sight of the car, for which I was glad. He opened the door which gave a healthy squeak, and when it did, four tiny canine voices answered. They trotted out and met nose to nose with their father, the scrappy looking terrier from the tractor. All four were the spitting image of the proud little dog, white with brown and black splotches and long curly scruff.
“Where’s their momma?” I asked.
“She’s around. They worry her to death, so I imagine she is off takin’ a break somewhere.”
“Cute. My wife does the same thing sometimes,” I said.
“Don’t we all? Yep. They are fulla cute. Good dog is what you need. How many kids?”
“Two. Little ones,” I answered.
“Hmm,” he said.
He puzzled for a minute and I thought he was going to tell me it was all a bad idea, but he didn’t. He looked down at the pups, scratched his unshorn chin and then cocked his head back in my direction. His weathered face melted into another smile. I raised an eyebrow in anticipation.
“Probably need two then. One’ll keep the other occupied. Less likely to be nippy with the little ones.”
Two dogs.
“Perfect,” I said. “They weaned?”
“Eight weeks, good to go. Had their first set of shots, too. All boys. Take your pick,” he said.
I reached down and gave each one a scratch. One nibbled my hand and then rolled to his back, showing his belly. His siblings joined in the game and before long they were all jumping and licking on me, making the decision tough.
“All right, all right,” I said. “I can’t take all four.”
I closed my eyes and grabbed the first one I could get my hands on and tucked him under one arm. Then I grabbed for another. The little bugger kept busy by chewing on my hand with his tiny needle teeth, but I got him scooped up as well. I opened my eyes, held them up and was met with two tiny, warm tongues to the face. They smelled like puppies. Something I’d always wanted, but never had.
“Every kid should have a dog,” the old man said. “I firmly believe that.”
“I agree,” I said and hugged the two animals to my chest.
I’d never had a dog. Not in my whole life. But I always wanted one.
“Looks like they suit you,” he said. “Let me get you a box to tote ‘em home in.”
He produced one after a little rummaging and I thanked him and shook his hand again before taking the wiggly box back to the car and knocking on my wife’s window. She rolled it down with a quizzical look on her face.
“What have you done, Todd?”
One of the pups yapped and her face turned into a wide grin.
“No more kids,” I said.
I couldn’t stand the thought of dying of cancer and leaving another child behind. It was going to be hard enough to leave the two I had. I had no idea how much time was left, or if Nataliya and Matt were even right given the amazing things medicine could do, but she’d been right with the rest. Not with the when, but the how.
“A puppy?” she asked.
“No.”
She looked confused.
“Two puppies,” I said.
“My God,” she said.<
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From the back seat, I heard Sean shriek, “Puppies!”
I dumped the box on her lap and took my place behind the wheel. We waved at the old man, who was mounting back up on his tractor with his little furry friend in tow. He waved with a grin as I backed out of the drive.
“Only an hour before we’re home. Guess we should stop at the pet store?” I said.
“Yes. Todd, what if they pee on me?”
“They will, don’t worry,” I said.
I pulled out on the two-lane and headed for the interstate.
“You are so staying up with these two,” she said.
“Puppies!” Sean said. “I wanna see!”
She opened the box and made an Aww face. With careful hands, she held one up and it wagged its tail at them both, then she held up the other. It licked her face.
“What to name them, daddy?” Sean said.
I smiled. I already had the names picked out.
“How about Danny and Matt?” I said.
“Yeah. Yeah!” Sean said.
“I think that’s perfect,” Vicky said.
Robin babbled something which also sounded positive, and I drove us home, a family of six.
