Chasing Rainbows A Novel

TEN


“RLANGZANR ZG ZR QZUUZBFCG GL IJLE EPL ZR IJLBIZJK – LBBLOGFJZGW LO GNAHGTGZLJ.”

-FJIJLEJ

I’d left a message on Diane’s cell phone when we reached my house, and Ashley now sat at my kitchen table, jumping at the slightest noise as if her mother were going to send a team of truancy enforcers through the door at any moment.

Poindexter’s chin sat planted firmly on Ashley’s knee and, if I wasn’t mistaken, the dog was smiling. He’d probably begun to think the world had ended and he and I were the only two creatures left alive. The look of relief in his eyes had been unmistakable when Ashley walked through the door.

She spooned in a mouthful of peas, then eyed her bowl as if she might lick it. “Do you have any more?”

Peas? Not in this lifetime.

“I’ll look.” But I knew better. If the kid wanted nacho chips, popcorn, or chocolate in any shape, size, or form, she’d be in business. But peas?

I stared into my pantry, past the zillion boxes of doggie treats. It was immediately apparent who ate better in this house. Back in the far corner of the middle shelf, I saw something shiny. Something round. The top of a can. Soup, I guessed, but I guessed wrong.

I lifted the can out of the pantry and screwed up my face in surprise. Peas? In my house? Maybe Ryan had put them there. Or maybe they’d been there since the previous owners had moved out.

I checked the can for any sign of rust or dents or bulges or whatever else you were supposed to check for. I also checked for an expiration date, but couldn’t find one.

Ashley swallowed, her eyes fixated on the can in my hand as if she were a vampire and I held the longest, most tender neck in town.

“I’m not sure about this.” I shook my head. “Your parents are angry enough over my driving you to the party. If I gave you botulism, they might really be pissed.”

Ashley didn’t say a word, her eyes never leaving the can.

The kid was starting to freak me out.

Thankfully, the phone rang. I snatched up the receiver, tossed the can into the pantry and flattened my back against the door to prevent any attempt on Ashley’s part to open the obviously lethal can of peas.

“I see you’re really becoming a great influence on my daughter.” I hadn’t heard this note of disgust in Diane’s voice since I’d cut off her bangs in high school. And I mean cut off. To the scalp.

“You’re just lucky I was there,” I answered, frowning into space. “If she’d beaned the clerk with the peas--no pun intended--you’d be looking at assault charges on top of truancy.”

Ashley’s eyes widened at my words, like she’d seriously considered clocking Geoff.

But all Diane said was “peas” in vacant tone of voice. “She loves her damned peas.”

I shrugged, not that she could see me. “So the kid has a fetish. So what? It’s not like you haven’t conducted a commando raid on every purse department in town.”

Diane’s gasp filtered through the phone line, and Ashley pulled herself up straighter in her chair, smiling. I winked at her. So what if the move wasn’t part of the support-parental-authority handbook. It felt right. Hell, it felt good.

“When will you be bringing my daughter home?” Diane asked. “Or was there another party you two planned to hit on the way back?”

I smirked, wanting very badly to say a few choice words to my friend, but drawing the line at saying them in front of her daughter.

“In about a half-hour.” I leveled my gaze at Ashley. “We’ve got a few things to talk about first.”

I expected Diane to tell me a half-hour was too long. I expected her to tell me she needed to see her firstborn immediately. But, that’s not what she said at all.

“Listen, Macy’s is having a one-day sale, so if you get to the house before me, use your key.”

I blinked. Not that I was the poster child for rational thinking, but my old friend had her priorities completely out of whack.

“Got it.” I hung up the phone and sat down across from Ashley.

“The peas?” Her eyebrows shot up hopefully.

“We’ll stop at 7-11 on the way to your house and get some more. Fair enough?”

She nodded. “Was she mad?”

I nodded back. “A bit. We’ll meet her at home. She has to stop at the mall for something.”

Ashley sighed and my heart hurt for her. She was old enough to realize her mother was more than a little distracted by her pregnancy.

“It’s normal for women to get a little weird when they’re pregnant.” I reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “She’ll snap out of the purse thing, honey. You’ll see.”

“It’s not that.” Ashley’s voice dropped low, flat.

“What then?”

“She’s moved on to outfits that ‘accentuate’ her belly.”

My stomach caught for a variety of reasons, and I tried to ignore them all.

I shifted my grip to hold her hand, and she amazed me by not pulling away. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged, but the sadness around her eyes was undeniable.

“Ash?”

“She’s so busy showing off the baby, she doesn’t know I’m alive.” The words spilled out of her as if she’d held them bottled up for weeks.

“That’s not true. She loves you like you can’t believe. We all love you.”

Poindexter moved to the corner of the kitchen and let out a loud, window-rattling sigh.

“Just look how you’ve captivated the dog.”

I spotted the slightest lift at the corner of Ashley’s mouth.

“I saw that.” I pointed.

“What?” She narrowed her gaze, her features falling serious.

“The smile.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t smile.”

I shrugged. “Wouldn’t kill you if you did.”

Her gaze darted from me to the tabletop to the pantry.

“Forget it.”

She blew out a frustrated breath.

“Listen.” I gave her hand a squeeze. “I know things are kind of crazy right now with your mom being pregnant.” And insane, but I didn’t say that. “You’re at a tough age.” I smiled. “Just remember. If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. Talking is good. Expressing yourself is good. Keeping everything inside is not. Got it?”

She nodded, looking as if she had her doubts but she’d humor me by agreeing.

“But--” I shifted my tone to serious, very adult “--don’t lie to me again, and don’t cut school again. Hear me?”

Ashley looked as if I’d slapped her hand instead of holding it.

“If anything had happened to you, no one would have known where you were, and we all love you too much for that, okay?”

Her throat worked and tears glistened in her eyes. “Aunt Bernie?”

“What, honey?”

“Do you think I could have a hug? I’ve kind of had a rough week.”

A smile spread wide across my face as I pushed out of my chair and she did the same. I wrapped my arms around the little girl who was becoming a young woman before my eyes, and I held on tight.

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“You’re the best,” she whispered against my shoulder, and my heart caught.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” I answered as I planted a kiss against her downy soft hair. “Ready to go?”

She nodded, but pulled away suddenly and pinned me with an intent gaze. “Are you going to send that letter to the editor?”

I uttered a slight laugh. “I’m no writer, Ash. It was just something to do.”

“Can I read it?”

Could she? I didn’t see why not. “Sure.” I nodded. “Let me get it.”

She sank back onto her chair, and I retrieved the notebook from my bag. Ashley devoured the words on the page, never looking up until she’d finished.

“Wow, Aunt Bernie.”

“Wow, what?” I hoped she hadn’t picked up on how many octaves my voice jumped in my anxiety over whether or not she liked what I’d written.

“You have to send it.”

“You liked it?”

Ashley smiled the loveliest smile I’d ever seen. “Call the paper and get their email address.” She brightened even more.

I realized then that the smile on Ashley’s face meant far more to me than the fact she’d liked the article.

“I’ll make you a deal.” I slid the notebook away from her and met her gaze. “I’ll send this in if you promise to come to me or call me, any time of day or night, if you need anything. Anything at all. Fair enough?”

“Fair enough.”

With that, we set out toward Diane’s house. I only hoped negotiating a truce with my purse-crazed, hormone-driven friend would be as painless as talking to Ashley had been.

Somehow, I had my doubts.

o0o

I pranced through the door of Diane and David’s rink on Wednesday afternoon as if I owned the joint--and hadn’t skipped work for almost a week. Part of me hoped David would ignore my absence and say nothing about what had happened Friday night.

That part of me was an idiot.

I should have known he’d be angry with me based on the icy reception I’d received from his wife the day before.

Diane had ushered Ashley into the house while she planted her arm across the threshold to keep me out. I’d driven the whole way back to my house wondering when it had been that she and I started stuffing our feelings.

In the old days, we’d have thrown all of the hurt and anger out in the open. But last night had been different. Last night we’d merely given each other polite nods, held our thoughts and feelings inside, then turned our backs on each other.

But I couldn’t blame Diane. I was equally to blame. After all, I’d kept my mouth shut when she’d called on Friday night, and I hadn’t done a thing last night to force the issue.

I’d put just as many bricks in the wall building between us as she had.

“So, I understand you’re working your corruption skills on my daughter now.” David’s sharp tone shattered my thoughts before I could stew any further.

I squinted at him, narrowing my eyes to tiny little slits. “I was trying to help.”

“Good one.” He let out an annoying laugh and shook his head. “Ashley’s got sneak skills you didn’t perfect until college.”

I resented that comment. “I was never sneaky.”

David smiled--a look rarely spotted on his face, and one to be noted while it lasted. “Right.”

“Well, Ashley’s not sneaky. She’s just upset right now. That’s all.”

David shrugged. “Women.”

His typical scowl returned to his face, and I fought the urge to slap it off. Truth be told, I’d wanted to slap it off for as long as I could remember.

I clasped my hands together to avoid any possible assault charges.

“Is that all you have to say about it?” I gave a quick lift and drop of my shoulders. “‘Women?’”

“She’ll get over it,” he answered. “Whatever it is.”

Maybe men really were from Mars.

He tipped his chin in my direction. “What brings you around?”

Was this a trick question? “Work.”

David made a loud snapping noise with his mouth. “You don’t work here anymore.”

I sagged as if he’d let the air out of me. “What do you mean?”

“You. Don’t. Work. Here. Anymore.” He spoke emphatically and distinctly.

“I understand the words. I don’t understand why.”

He shook his head and smiled again. He was enjoying this, the rat. “You don’t show up for three days, you’re fired. You haven’t been here since Halloween. Company rules.”

“What if I was sick?”

“Too sick to dial the phone?”

He had a point. “You’re not even paying me. Can’t you make an exception? Really, I don’t think it’s too much to ask. I’m ready to do my job. I need this job, David.”

His eyes began to glaze over. My babbling was working its usual charm.

“I don’t tolerate slackers.” He scowled anew.

So much for babbling.

I rolled my eyes at him. I knew that drove him nuts.

His scowl intensified.

“I’m in the midst of a major life upheaval, you know.”

He laughed. The man’s mood swings were making my head hurt. “I’m forty-two years old, my wife’s pregnant and my teenager’s cutting school to buy peas. I’ll see your life upheaval and raise you twenty.”

Well what did you know? The man actually had noticed his family’s issues. There might be hope for him yet.

“I could make some fries.” I used my best you-can’t-live-without-me-and-I-cost-you-nothing voice, but David was visibly unimpressed.

“No.”

“Drive the Zamboni?” I choked a bit on that last word, but if that’s what it would take to smooth out my little pity-party absence, I’d do it.

“No.”

I needed this job. Heaven help me, I wanted this job. Without the ice rink in my daily schedule, I had nothing but an obedience-challenged dog and my dreams of reinvention to fill my time.

I shrugged. “I give. What’ll it take to get back into your good graces?”

“Go clean the bathrooms.”

I jumped back a step. “You have got to be kidding me. Don’t you pay someone to do that?”

His scowl morphed back into a smile--an evil smile.

“All right,” I mumbled. “But I’m lodging a complaint with Diane.”

“If you toss in a purse or some maternity clothes, you might have a chance with that.”

Surprised, I blinked at him. “You know about the shopping?”

“I’m not stupid.”

Not stupid, I thought as I walked toward the restrooms. Who knew?

David called to me just before I turned the corner. “Supplies are in the closet. Don’t forget to glove up.”

o0o

When I got home that night, it was still unseasonably warm for early November. I’d left the screen door in my kitchen cracked open for fresh air, but it had been pushed off its track.

My heart seized up in my chest. My dog had made a run for it. He’d no doubt taken off in search of a non-wallowing, well-adjusted human.

I raced out into the yard and whistled. I should say I tried to whistle, because that trick had never been my forte.

Poindexter was nowhere to be found. Even worse, the back gate stood wide open to the athletic fields behind my house. I began to run, aimlessly at first, then methodically from yard to yard, checking every inch of ground fringing the edge of the field.

Cold tears stung my cheeks, but I slapped them away. I was tired of crying. Poindexter was obviously very tired of my crying.

I had to pull myself together, and I had to find my dog.

Sure, he had issues. He chased airplanes, he avoided confrontation like the plague, and now, apparently, he’d developed escape tendencies, but I needed him.

He might be an obedience school dropout, but he was my obedience school dropout.

I dropped to my knees, not caring that they sank into what I hoped was mud. I threw back my head and I yelled. Yelled like I’d never yelled before.

In public.

In my family, we didn’t yell. Plain and simple.

But I let my voice fly, bellowing in the middle of the huge field, while the windows of my neighbors’ houses looked on. Not caring who saw me, who heard me, or what they might think.

Then I closed my eyes and prayed with all of my heart.

I stayed like that for what felt like forever until I heard a sound, faintly at first, then clear and close.

Footsteps. The jangle of dog tags.

“Lose something, Number Thirty-Two?”

My new neighbor’s voice jolted my system like a shot of electricity. I opened my eyes, twisted in his direction, and spotted Poindexter barreling straight toward me, all happy innocence and doggie glee.

I opened my arms and choked on tears of joy, having switched instantly from desperation to euphoric blubbering.

“Wh...what happened?” I wrapped my arms around Poindexter’s neck and held him to me so tightly it was a wonder the dog could breathe.

I looked up at Number Thirty-Six and the kindness in his eyes sucked every ounce of air from my lungs. He shook his head. “Mrs. Cooke knocked on my door. Said your dog was loose in the field, barking up at the sky. She was afraid something might happen to him.”

Disbelief did a slow tumble through my system. “Mrs. Cooke?”

My new neighbor nodded and extended his hand. I dropped my focus to his fingers, remembering our first encounter. I loosened my grip on Poindexter and dragged my sleeve across my face, shuddering momentarily when I realized I must look like a very bad Halloween leftover.

“Come on,” Number Thirty-Six said. “I won’t bite.”

Promises. Promises.

I slipped my fingers into his and scrambled to my feet, doing my best to ignore the warm brush of his skin against mine. Poindexter jumped up on me, sending me staggering to one side.

“Sit,” Number Thirty-Six said in a deep, authoritative voice.

I fought the urge to plant my butt in the mud, but Poindexter did exactly what he was told. I stared at him, stunned.

“How did you do that?” I pointed to the dog, sitting on command.

My neighbor shrugged. “He’s a great dog. When did you teach him the commands? As a pup?”

I narrowed my gaze, staring at Poindexter. “Commands?” Maybe this wasn’t my dog at all. Maybe this was a pod dog that had been grown in some basement down the block.

“Sure.” Number Thirty-Six nodded enthusiastically. “He sits. He shakes. He plays dead, and he loves to roll over.”

Roll over?

I shot a frown at Poindexter and I could have sworn the dog shrugged. Was he actually so smart he’d wanted to get thrown out of obedience school after obedience school after obedience school?

“Amazing,” I muttered.

“Yes, he is.”

He grinned, and I realized I was still holding his hand. I jerked my hand away as if his touch had scorched my palm. “Thanks for taking him in.”

“No problem.”

We walked together, side by side, back across the field. Poindexter trotted happily along as if he were the most well-trained dog in New Jersey.

“You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” Number Thirty-Six said, the skin around his eyes crinkling with sincerity.

I shook my head, sudden nerves sliding through me. “I only drink tea,” I fibbed.

“Sure you do.”

He smiled a really great crooked smile then tipped his head toward the back of his house.

“I’m only two doors away if you ever want some lessons.”

“Lessons?” My voice squeaked like a chipmunk on speed.

For a moment, my mind raced with the possibilities. Just what sort of lessons did Number Thirty-Six feel qualified to teach?

“For the dog.” He laughed a little as he turned and walked away.

Poindexter began to follow him and I cleared my throat. When the dog looked back at me, I shot him my most threatening glare. He turned sharply and headed for our house, racing ahead of me even as I called to him to heel.

A jumbo jet appeared over the top of the trees and the chase was on. Poindexter raced beneath the belly of the plane, barking up at the sky.

I watched Number Thirty-Six head back toward his house then snapped myself back to reality.

Lessons. For the dog.

Imagine that.

o0o

“Sometimes it is difficult to know who is knocking – opportunity or temptation.”

-Unknown