I remember it now, how surprised I was to hear such sweet, soulful melodies drifting out from the strings. He had such a rebellious image, like he didn’t give a damn about anything, but the expression on his face that day was so intent and careful as he plucked the melody, stopping and starting over each time he got a chord wrong.
When the dogs rushed back, barking, I jumped out of my skin. He looked up and saw me. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, backing away. “I didn’t mean to watch.”
“That’s OK.” He laughed as the dogs swarmed him curiously, licking at his face and nudging his hands. “Who are these guys?”
I told him about volunteering at the shelter, and we wound up talking until the sun started sinking in the pale autumn sky. We talked about my acting, and his music, about everything and nothing at all. The next day in school, I figured he’d act like nothing had happened, but instead he stopped me in the hallway to talk some more. My friends’ jaws all dropping when he called to me by name. We were unlikely friends, nobody could ever figure us out: the rebellious heartbreaker, and the shy, quiet girl who always had her head in a play. But Finn never seemed to care. All through the winter, I saw him around school. He would even give me a ride sometimes, when he found me waiting at the bus stop in the pouring rain, or lugging a backpack overstuffed with books. We would have stayed that way too, just friendly, if fate hadn’t brought us together again, away from everything. That dark, cold New Year’s Eve when the air hummed with electricity, and everything changed for good.
A distant door slamming brings me back to reality, and I realize I’m standing in the middle of the storage shed with dry feed scattering at my feet. I push aside the past and go check in on the dogs, making sure that the old terrier has a blanket and the nervous poodles can hide in a fort of boxes, out of sight. Edith moved Chester into the main house when he first got sick, and when I finally find him in the office, hiding under the desk, he’s heavy and unmoving.
“Poor boy,” I murmur, crawling under to softly stroke his coat. Chester lifts his head and stares at me with miserable eyes. “What’s got you feeling so poorly, hmmm?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out.”
I startle at the noise, and bang my head on the underside of the desk. “Owww!”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” A male voice comes from behind me. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Edith said to come right back.”
I carefully crawl out and straighten up, rubbing my head. “It’s OK. I think.” I turn to the newcomer, trying not to wince. “How can I help you?”
“I’m the new vet.” The stranger smiles, extending a steady hand to shake. He’s definitely an upgrade on the old one. Tall and broad-shouldered, he can’t be older than thirty, with sandy blond hair and a clean-cut jawline. “Sawyer Green. Are you sure you’re OK?”
I nod. “It was just a bump.”
He frowns. “Well, if you start feeling dizzy or nauseated, let me know.”
“And what, you’ll check my heart-rate?” I ask, nodding to the tiny animal-sized stethoscope in his hand.
Sawyer smiles. “Either that, or try some de-worming.”
“Eww.” I laugh. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Good call.” His eyes go to poor Chester, still slumped there under the desk. “May I…?”
“Please.” I stand aside. Sawyer gets to his knees, and slowly approaches the old dog, holding out his hand for Chester to sniff. “He’s usually running around with the rest of them. I’m wondering if it’s something he ate.”
“Could be.” Sawyer carefully runs his hands over Chester’s body, pausing to press and feel. “But with dogs this age, it’s more likely to be something internal.”
“You mean like cancer?” My voice is stricken. Sawyer looks up at me.
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Can you help me lift him out? Then I can take some blood, run some tests.”
I quickly clear space on the table, and together we gently lift the old dog. Chester’s usually full of life, but he barely even makes a sound. “Don’t worry,” Sawyer catches my expression. “He’d be whimpering if he was in any pain.”
“Still.” I stroke him, “I don’t know what we’d do without him. He’s been here for years.”
“What about you?” Sawyer asks, checking Chester’s temperature, and making a note in a file.
“Me too, I’ve got a kennel out back.”
Sawyer laughs.
“No, I’m just a volunteer,” I say. “I help Edith out around the place.”
“It’s a lot to manage.”
“And getting bigger all the time,” I sigh. “But we just can’t turn anyone away. Every time Edith says we’re full, someone will show up with a box of kittens, or a dog they found out by the highway and, well…”
“Who can say no to that?” Sawyer finishes. He gives me an understanding look. “I’m the same. Somehow the neighborhood cats figured out I’m a soft touch. Now they just show up in my yard mewling for food.”
“So you’re a cat lady.” I grin.
“And proud of it.” Sawyer finishes taking blood, so smooth I barely even noticed, and neither did Chester. Sawyer tucks the vial in his bag, and gives the dog another pat. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”