Days later, I paced around the house, Bear at my heels constantly. I couldn’t relax or concentrate no matter what. He could sense my unsettled feelings and was reacting to them, staying close. I had barely slept the past few nights and my nerves and patience were stretched tightly. I was waiting for Frank to call with news of his meeting with Ms. Allen about her car that was in my barn, now that she was finally back. He kept telling me to be patient; Rabbit was being watched, he was investigating. I knew I had to give him time. I knew he probably wouldn’t be calling anytime soon since it was still early, but I was anxious and restless. I had gone through the files again and again, made copious notes and watched the press conferences over and over again. Cecilia had been back and forth bringing me new information to go through and I had also read everything I could find on the James family in general. I didn’t like what I found. Under the structured veneer of a wealthy, successful family, I saw a distinctive pattern of aloofness and control. The thought of my Rabbit in an environment like that made me shudder. The only comfort I could find was in knowing she was being watched and was seemingly okay. Physically, anyway. But that wasn’t enough. Until I knew she was safe, that she was fine, that she was here, I couldn’t relax.
Finally, with growing frustration, I grabbed my coat. “C’mon boy,” I summoned Bear. We’d take a walk outside and maybe clear my head. I stepped outside into the bright morning sun. I could hear the drips of the water as it splashed on the snow from the melting icicles. The past few days had turned warm and the snow was disappearing at an alarming rate. Soon the piles of snow would be gone if the temperatures stayed where they were hovering today. I shook my head at the drastic change in the weather in such a short span of time. I stepped off the porch and started walking. It felt good to stretch my sore leg, and the fresh air was welcome. Bear ran in front of me, diving into the snow, rolling and chuffing, happy to be outside. I frowned to myself; I had been neglecting him for a while. We hadn’t gone for a walk since Rabbit left. I stopped suddenly as the pain hit me, remembering the look I had seen on her face as she struggled to break away from Cecilia to get to me in the barn. It had been ten days ago. Ten of the longest days of my life.
My head was filled with chaotic thoughts.
Was she okay?
Was she scared?
Was I wrong in my assumptions and she was happy to be home?
Was I reading things from the pictures and articles that really didn’t exist?
Did she miss me as much as I missed her?
Had she figured out the card yet?
Bear’s sudden push on my leg brought me out of my thoughts. I patted his head and looked down at him. “You miss her too, don’t you?” I asked as I stroked his head. His answering huff as he shook his large head said it all. “I’ll figure out a way to get her back. I promise.” His trusting eyes looked up at me and then he turned away, walking down the drive. I followed him slowly, letting him lead the way as usual, although I was surprised when he headed down the driveway and not toward the barn as he usually went, but I let him go.
He continued to trot ahead of me, chasing the occasion snowflake, bounding back to me barking, or running around me in circles, wanting to play. I would scoop up some of the melting snow into a ball and throw it, chuckling when he would chase after it and, of course, not find anything and come charging back wanting another one tossed. The memory of Rabbit’s snowball deluge flowed through my head and I smiled, thinking of her that day. How she turned my bad mood into one of laughter with her teasing and playing. How her eyes had looked at me so tenderly while we made love in the snow and how she felt wrapped around me. Again, the pain of loss that accompanied the memory made me pause, and I realized Bear had rounded the corner in front of me. I could hear him in the snow, barking and digging. I hurried forward hoping he hadn’t come across some small woodland creature and was scaring it to death while trying to play with it.
Rounding the bend, I saw him digging and pulling on something in the snow. “Bear, stop!” I commanded. He ceased his digging but continued his barking at whatever was in front of him.
Fuck. Probably a real rabbit or a fox.