What a Dog Knows

by Susan Wilson

  When Ruby turns around, Bull has managed to drag Dougie over to the lawn chairs and is plating a cheeseburger for him. “Coleslaw is there; Polly brought the potato salad and you shouldn’t skip that.” If Ruby had ever wanted a brother, she would have wanted him to be Bull.

  Dougie takes the plate, spoons on the sides, not being shy about amounts. “This is awfully nice of you.”

  “Don’t want to see good food go to waste.” Bull has his third burger on a new paper plate. “You know what I mean?”

  Around a mouthful of coleslaw Doug agrees. He’s a big guy, fiftyish, gray streaked throughout dark hair, and has the look, in Ruby’s eyes, of a guy who might be a former jock now coaching kids in some fashion. She doesn’t know why that idea pops into her head, but then, she is a psychic after all. Despite the contention between them, Ruby sees in Dougie’s aura a strong decency of character, and that is why she doesn’t drag her feet going back to hand him the envelope of money. She is certain that he will accept it.

  “My mother is a formidable character and she isn’t going to like this.”

  Ruby takes the plate from Dougie, hands it to Polly. Takes his hands in her own and turns them so she can read his palm. They grow hot in her hands, and he blushes. “You are a good son. You take good care of her.” She runs a forefinger along his life line. “And your mother loves you and will listen to you.” She folds his fingers around the envelope.

  Dougie doesn’t say anything for a moment. He slides the envelope into his breast pocket without even counting the money. Then, “Can I have my plate back?”

  * * *

  The man stays until dark, and the picnic begins to feel like a party. I like chasing fireflies, and Boy thinks that I’m deranged. He prefers a siesta after eating. The humans talk well past when I think it’s time to go in and cuddle. Finally the new man gets up and I am quite intrigued as he and Ruby, who challenged each other earlier, walk arm in arm to his car. I follow at a close distance. Their verbal farewell is inflected with the sense that they might see each other again.

  25

  When Ruby finally thinks to listen to her messages, the one from her daughter is indeed a warning that she should be prepared for disappointment. Sabine has been picking up a threatening vibe. It makes Ruby proud to think that her daughter’s skills are so developed, even as Sabine pretends she doesn’t have any. It’s late, really too late to call, so Ruby thumbs a quick text to let Sabine know that, for now, things seem to have worked out. The Hitchhiker is curled up on the end of the unfolded bench seat, her eyes closed but her woolly bear caterpillar eyebrows reveal that she is not asleep by the way they rise and fall with Ruby’s every move.

  The high anxiety that has been pressing down on Ruby for days now has vanished and she feels in danger of floating away. Imagine Bull Harrison handing her $500 as if he was pulling spare change out from between the couch cushions. Ruby smiles thinking of the look on Polly’s face, something between shock and suspicion. After Dougie had driven off, Ruby caught Bull by the arm and pulled him into a hug. He resisted, then gently patted her on the back.

  “Where, Bull? Why?” She knows that she’s being inarticulate, but he’d known what she was asking without asking. Where did he ever get such money and why did he give it to her?

  “I had it. I’m not going to use it.”

  “Well, I’m paying you back.”

  “It’s blood money. Please don’t.”

  “Then you have to explain.”

  “You know that my son Jimmy died.”

  “Yes.”

  “He was a drug dealer.”

  Ruby stays perfectly still, aware that if she so much as makes a consoling comment, Bull will shut up.

  “I found that in the house, a couple bundles. I found it long after he was dead. At first I felt like it was kind of a gift from him. Something to keep me going. But that idea just didn’t stick. I could have turned it in, probably should have. But…” Bull pauses long enough to light a cigarette. “I didn’t.”

  Polly chimed in, “Nobody has missed it. You weren’t taking food out of a kid’s mouth by keeping it.”

  “No, but I coulda donated it. Anonymously, like.”

  “Is there more?” Polly again.

  “I’ve been chipping away at it. But yeah.”

  Ruby patted Bull on the arm. “It was a gift. Jimmy did leave it so that you could find it, use it when you needed to. I believe that.”

  “He was a good kid when he was little. No one remembers that.”

  They sat in silence for a bit longer, each in their own thoughts until Boy got up off the ground, shook himself violently, and suggested to Bull that it was time to turn in. The August humidity had thinned, and muted stars appeared overhead. A nimbus-frosted quarter moon.

  Polly pulled her car keys out of her caftan pocket. “I’m heading out. Thanks, Bull, for a very nice evening. And, Ruby, I couldn’t be happier for you.”

  Ruby wrapped her arms around Polly and the two women held each other for a long moment. It was such a rare event, this affection for another person. As they let go, they simultaneously put out hands to bring Bull into the circle.

  The file folder and its contents has been shoved aside for the past few days, almost forgotten what with the more immediate realities. Ruby pulls it out now, having no particular place to go and no particular reason to drive off. Bull and Boy have headed off to hold up the wall of the Cumberland Farms. Polly is hunting down a missing cat. The Hitchhiker is getting her beauty sleep in the passenger seat, biding her time until Ruby pulls on her Skechers and takes her for a walk. Ruby pops up the folding table, sets the folder on it, pours a second cup of coffee. This time she lays her hands on the unopened file, divining what, if anything, it might tell her psychically. The palms of her hands grow warm, a little damp. She picks them up and there are faint imprints of her hands on the folder, quickly evaporating in the day’s warmth. Ruby is given only minute flashes, impressions, nothing dynamic. A taste of school macaroni and cheese. The scent of glue. Nothing more than any adult gets thinking about elementary school. She does not see the face of her mother. Nor of this stranger named Estelle Williamson.

  Where did her mother go? Like all the rest of the girls at the convent orphanage, Ruby had secretly hoped for a long-lost relative to come claim her, to right the wrong that had been done in leaving her there. What if her mother had gone back to reclaim her, but Ruby had disappeared? Was she still looking for her?

  The questions have become a little foolish, and Ruby grabs the dog’s leash. Not that she won’t stop thinking, now that she’s opened the floodgates, but at least she’ll be getting some exercise in the process.

  The Hitchhiker acts like she had been expecting to be disappointed. Jumping and dancing, all jolliness and frivolity. Ruby doesn’t even have to touch her to know that the dog is hoping that their walk will take them to the lakeside. She just loves it there.

  “Okay, let’s go to the lake.” This time they won’t wander over to the private dock. This time they’ll stay on the correct path and just enjoy the scenery. The dog will paddle about at the water’s edge and Ruby, who has never learned to swim, will try to keep her feet dry.

  The stroll around the lake leads to its logical terminus, the Lakeside Tavern. Ruby’s recent economics prevent her from even entertaining the notion of stopping for a bite. She’s got to rebuild her fractured finances, which means, of course, another Saturday at the Farmers’ Market and Makers Faire. Checking her watch, Ruby picks up the pace, time to retrieve the van and get over to the park. With all the emotional commotion of last night, she’d forgotten that today is Saturday.

  Emily Hippy Chick greets Ruby with a beaming smile that belies her surprise that Ruby has shown up. “Oh, I wasn’t expecting you. Cynthia said you had left town.”

  “Did she now? Wonder why she thinks that.”

  “At any rate, I rented your space to someone else.”

  “It might be good to have a different space toda
y. What’s left?”

  “Nothing.”

  Ruby absolutely knows that Emily has been given firm orders. “It’s a big park, and I have a small tent.”

  Is that a bead of sweat forming at Emily’s temple? The beaming smile begins to quaver. “I think we’re supposed to keep within the boundaries the town has given us.”

  “Boundaries can be flexible. I don’t see any yellow tape. Border walls.”

  “Um.” Emily pulls out a folded diagram of the area. Thin numbered rectangles are described on the paper. She runs a forefinger along the diagram. “Maybe here?” She’s pointing to a block that seems to abut the phalanx of porta-potties.

  “Why not?” Ruby looks at this not as an insult, but as an opportunity. Everyone who needs the comfort facilities will pass her way.

  Ruby hands Emily the day’s fee. This continued animosity from Cynthia Mann has become puzzling in the extreme. After their session at the bridal shower, after the woman broke her teapot and never said boo, after smearing her to Mrs. Cross, how much more hate has this woman got in her? It’s almost like Cynthia took one look at Ruby and hated her on sight, the polar opposite of someone falling in love at first sight. Maybe it’s the same thing, an emotion driven by pheromones and not by logic. Maybe there’s something about Ruby that speaks to a deep turmoil within Cynthia’s psyche. She only wishes that she’d been able to suss it out when the opportunity had presented itself at that shower. If she’d grabbed Cynthia’s hands instead of using the tea leaves, maybe she could have divined what it is that drives this loathing.

  Ruby drives the van across the field and up to her space on the outer edges of the Faire. Fortunately, the blue and white outhouses are freshly delivered and odor free. She manages to set up the tent far enough away that she doesn’t look like she’s selling tickets to use the potties. The Hitchhiker bustles about, knowing what their day will look like, happy to be of assistance. She parks herself beside the sandwich board, ready to leap into action.

  It’s too hot to let her hair down, so Ruby keeps it in its twist, takes the silk scarf and winds it around her head, turban-style. In her hand mirror, she looks authentic and Ruby tries not to allow that this might not be the most flattering style for her. And then wonders at that thought. She prides herself on being a woman without vanity, or at least having a controlled level of vanity. She knows what colors are best for her skin tone, keeps herself trim. But other than that, who is she trying to impress? Enough of that. She dabs on a little more lipstick. Open for business.

  The morning clips along, a nice stream of clients stopping by, and for the first time, Ruby has some repeat customers. Mostly dog people. She needs to make a determination if a rescue pup will accept another rescue pup. Yes, the dog says, as long as I am alpha. Another owner is curious about a new behavior, facing the wall and barking. The dog explains to Ruby that there are mice in that wall. She recommends seeking out a good exterminator. The humans are the common garden variety of should I seek a new job, boyfriend, apartment, vacation. All in all, this awkward spot is turning out to be lucrative. People seem less hesitant to chat with a psychic as they wait for an open porta-potty and Ruby begins to suspect this space offers a comforting discreetness. Although, she could use a little of the scent of lavender emanating from her last neighbor’s herbal booth, instead of the cloying scent of urinal cake.

  There is a lull in the action and Ruby takes advantage of it by taking the dog for a little walk around and using ten dollars of her replenished cash to buy a Caesar salad wrap and an iced tea. The day has gotten progressively hotter and she feels sticky beneath her caftan. She can’t afford to bag it now; she’s got to stick it out till two. Despite what Bull has said, she’s going to pay him back even if it’s in twenty-dollar increments.

  With the wrap gone, and one tiny piece of chicken accidently dropped in front of the patient dog, Ruby collects herself and gets back to business. The dog, feet pumping up and down, starts yipping as if she’s spotted someone she knows, which is basically how she greets everyone, but this time Ruby hears her thoughts.

  “I know him. He’s a nice guy. He let me lick his plate.”

  Ruby looks up to see Dougie Cross coming across the field. “Oh, shit.” All she can think is that his mother, the redoubtable Mrs. Cross, has sent him back to return her money and take her dog. Ruby jumps to her feet. Wishes that she wasn’t dressed as a fortune-teller, but in her ready-for-battle jeans and T-shirt. She unwinds the turban. Stands up, fists clenched. She can grab the dog and jump in her van and be off in a heartbeat. She’s done it before.

  Dougie spots her. Smiles. Would a man about to break her heart smile so broadly?

  The Hitchhiker, oblivious to the danger, runs toward him and he scoops her up.

  “Hi, Ruby! Bull told me I’d find you here.”

  “Good afternoon, Doug. What brings you all the way back to Harmony Farms so soon?” Like he’d never left. The idea that he’d driven all the way to Stockbridge and then turned right around the next day and driven another two hours to give her the bad news is frightening.

  “Oh, I don’t live that far away. I live in the next town over, North Farms.”

  “So you didn’t go to your mother last night?”

  “Oh, no. I called her.” Doug looks a little embarrassed. “Of course I should have said that first. She’s okay with letting you have the dog. I told her that you made a great impression on me and that I think it’s the best thing.”

  The fight or flight instinct quickly settles into relief. The weight of the caftan is suddenly smothering. “Thank you, Doug. It means the world that you were willing to go to bat for me.”

  “I couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t.”

  Ruby sits down, gestures to Doug to do the same. The dog is in his arms, licking his face. Ruby’s curious now. Why didn’t he just call her with the news?

  “Just here for the Farmers’ Market?” That’s such a couple thing to do that Ruby supposes he’s left his spouse/girlfriend/partner at the herbal booth.

  “No.” Doug keeps his eyes on the dog, now wriggling free of his lap. “Um, look, I don’t do this often, so bear with me.”

  “Okay. A reading, then?” The Hitchhiker takes a lap around the table, sits beside Ruby.

  “Actually, no. I mean, not now. Maybe some time.” Doug draws the folding chair up closer to the table. Under his big frame, the chair looks incredibly vulnerable. “Would you ever consider…”

  Ruby doesn’t even have to use her psychic powers on this one. “Going out with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure. But I don’t know how long I’ll be in town.” Ruby phrases this very carefully so that she doesn’t make him regret going to bat for her. “I have an engagement in New Hampshire in a week.” There she will join the Benini Brothers Carnival on their travels for the next couple of months.

  “Then how about tonight?”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  26

  It’s not like Ruby hasn’t had a date before. When Sabine was little, she refused to date, too busy trying to keep one step ahead of child protective services and poverty to pay much attention to anyone else. After Sabine went off to college and effectively never returned to the family bosom, Ruby did enjoy an evening out, a movie, a little making out. She even dated one of Sabine’s neighbors, Arthur Bean, for a little while during her brief period living with Sabine in Moose River Junction, attempting to convert herself into a stay-at-home human. Ruby is pretty sure she doesn’t have a string of broken hearts left behind her. Nor has she allowed herself to have her own heart broken apart. Another reason to keep the wheels on the pavement and the steering wheel in her hands. So she’ll go out with Dougie. They’ll meet at six at the Lakeside, her recommendation. Although there are plenty of other better restaurants in the area, the Lakeside has become something of a habit. The food is good, the view nice. And she’s bound to have an acquaintance wander in, so she can establish a certain amount of stabi
lity in a subtle fashion. If you can say hi to someone across the room, you’ve got a string or two holding you down. Just enough to bolster her case that she is a stable person, worthy of keeping the Hitchhiker, even if she can snip that string with a pair of nail scissors when she’s ready.

  In the meantime, the Makers Faire is over for the day and Ruby is packing up. It’s been an unusually good day; she’s pulled in twice what she did on her last best Saturday. She’s desperate for a shower, so will head to the Dew Drop for the night. It is such a relief to be able to spend a little and not fret that it will cost her what she holds most dear. Another couple of days like this and, fingers crossed, the Westfalia doesn’t act up, she’s out of Harmony Farms.

  Ravi greets Ruby with his usual grace, happy to give her a room. This one is a different room from her usual end of the complex space and lacks a little of the charming crookedness. Her moisturizer stays put where she sets it on the shelf, however the wall art is exactly the same as the other room. It both feels different and feels like home.

  The Hitchhiker sniffs around, looks a little puzzled that, at least scent-wise, this isn’t her familiar digs. Then she jumps on the bed and circles three times. Burrows her nose beneath her hind leg. Sighs. Sleeps.

  First date. Local tavern. Ruby pulls out her best jeans and her white button-down shirt. Another good reason to take a motel room today is that she is sure that there is no iron in Bull Harrison’s possession. Much less an ironing board. The motel room ironing board squeals in protest as Ruby sets it up. She heats the iron, presses both the jeans and the shirt, and then jumps in the shower. She almost feels decadent. Ravi’s selection of bath products is quite nice. He may run a slightly seedy motel, but he doesn’t skimp on the quality of shampoo and soap.