“Do you think Daddy will know that we moved? Do you think he’ll know where to leave the feathers?”
When Steven passed away and we moved to stay with Mama, there were white bird feathers scattered around the front yard. When Emma asked about them, Mama said they were small signs from the angels, letting us know they were always close by, watching over us.
Emma had loved the idea, and whenever she would find a feather, she would look up to the sky, smile, and whisper, “I love you too, Daddy.” Then she would take a picture with the feather to add to her collection of ‘Daddy and Me’ photos.
“I’m sure he’ll know where to find us, sweetie.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, he’ll know where to find us.”
The trees were greener than I remembered, and the little shops in downtown Meadows Creek were decked out with reds, whites, and blues for the festivities. It was so familiar yet foreign all at once. Mrs. Fredrick’s American flag flapped in the wind as she fixed the patriotically dyed roses in her flowerpot. Pride bloomed from her entire existence as she stepped back to admire her home.
We got stuck behind the one traffic light in town for ten minutes. The wait made no sense at all, but it did give me time to take in everything that reminded me of Steven. Of us. Once the light switched over, I placed my foot on the gas pedal, wanting nothing more than to get home and ignore the shadows of the past. As the car took off down the street, from the corner of my eye I saw a dog dashing toward me. My foot moved quickly to the brake, but my old, beat-up car hiccupped and hesitated to stop. By the time it finally did, I heard the loud yelp.
My heart leaped into my throat and stayed there, blocking the ability for me to inhale my next breath. I slammed the car into park. Emma asked what was happening, but I didn’t have time to reply. I swung my door open, reaching the poor dog right as a man raced up to me. His wide-eyed stare locked with mine, almost forcing me to train in on the intensity of his stormy grayish-blue eyes. Most blue eyes came with a warm, welcoming feeling attached to them, but not his. His were intense, just as his stance was. Icy and private. Around the rims of his irises were profound blues, but silver and black strands of coloring were woven in and out, which added to the shrouded look in his stare. His eyes matched the shadows of the sky right before a thunderstorm was about to pass through.
Those eyes were so familiar to me. Did I know him? I could’ve sworn I’d seen his stare somewhere before. He looked both terrified and livid as he moved his eyes to what I was assuming was his dog, which was lying still. Around the stranger’s neck were huge headphones that were attached to something resting in his back pocket.
He was decked out in workout clothes. His long-sleeved white shirt hugged his muscular arms, his black shorts showed his built legs, and sweat was brewing along his forehead. I assumed he’d been taking his dog for a run when he lost hold of his leash, but the man wasn’t wearing any shoes.
Why wasn’t he wearing shoes?
That didn’t matter. Was his dog okay?
I should’ve been paying closer attention.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see…” I started to say, but the man grunted harshly at my words, almost as if they offended him.
“What the hell?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” he shouted, his voice making me jump a bit. He lifted his dog into his arms, cradling the pet as if it were his own child. As he stood, I stood. As he searched around, I searched around.
“Let me drive you to the vet,” I said, my body shaking from seeing the dog trembling in the stranger’s arms. I knew I should’ve been annoyed with the tone he’d taken with me, but when someone was in panic mode, you couldn’t really blame them for their behavior. He didn’t speak back, but I watched the hesitation in his eyes. His face was framed with a very thick, dark, untamed beard. His mouth was hidden somewhere in the wildness resting against his face, so all I had to rely on was the story he told with his eyes. “Please,” I begged. “It’s too far to walk.”
He nodded once and only once. When he opened the passenger seat, he and his pet sat inside, closing the door behind them.
Hopping into the car, I started driving.
“What’s going on?” Emma asked.
“We are just going to take the pup to get checked out, honey. Everything’s fine.” I really hoped I wasn’t lying to her.
It was a twenty-minute drive to the closest 24-hour animal hospital, and the car ride didn’t exactly go the way I’d thought it would.
“Take a left on Cobbler Street,” he ordered.
“Harper Avenue will be faster,” I disagreed.
He grunted, his annoyance shining through. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, take Cobbler!”
I took a breath. “I know how to drive.”
“Do you? Because I think your driving is the reason we’re sitting here.”