Adopting Jenny

 

by Liz Botts

Published by Astraea Press

www.astraeapress.com

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

 

ADOPTING JENNY

Copyright © 2012 LIZ BOTTS

ISBN 978-1-62135-083-5

Cover Art Designed by For the Muse Designs

To my grandparents, Barb and Sam Jones, who taught me to love animals.

 

Equations swam on the textbook page in front of me, mocking me in my confusion. Math made my brain hurt. The phone began to ring as Dad strode in the back door, fresh from a day of concrete finishing. I could smell him before he even hit the porch, something like sweat mixed with tar. Soap suds dripped down Mom's arms as she did some pre-dinner dishes. A tiny bubble drifted up out of the sink. I watched as it spiraled lazily toward the ceiling. The phone was still ringing.

Mom sighed. “The lord love a duck! Joanie, would you please get that? It's going to ring off the hook.”

I blinked at her but dropped my pencil. The phone trilled a fourth time. Dad dropped his heavy work boots in the mud room and walked across the kitchen. From the firm line of his jaw, I knew how irritated he was that I hadn't moved my butt faster.

“Hello?” Despite the way his body was set, tension oozing out of his pores, Dad's voice drifted across the phone lines as mellow as could be. “Uh huh, she's here, but she's busy at the moment. Can I take a message?”

My heartbeat picked up. Could someone be calling me? Jimmy Michaels had said he might call me. So far he hadn't, but… could this be it? I stared hard at Dad, trying to get some sort of reading out of him. A split second later, I got my answer as his eyes cut to Mom, still standing at the sink. My shoulders slumped in defeat. I picked at the edge of my paper as I listened to the rest of Dad's side of the conversation.

“Is that right?” he said. Mom had turned to look at him now. He motioned for her to take the receiver, so she carefully dried her hands on a towel she kept hanging near the sink.

“This is Barb,” she said. As she started to “uh-huh” along with whoever was on the other end, I lost interest.

Four more math problems stared up at me from the page. If I just finished them, I'd be done with my homework for the whole weekend. Two whole days without Ms. Peck or pre-algebra. I tapped my pencil in an off-beat rhythm as I tried to reason out one of them.

Dad stilled my pencil with his large, calloused hand. “Your mother is on the phone,” he said.

I bit my lip to keep from pointing out that a pencil doesn't make that much noise, especially the eraser. Dad didn't look like he was in the mood for my observations. Instead, he moved off through the kitchen, presumably to change out of his work clothes. The cuffs of his work pants were torn again and spattered with dried concrete. That'd be tough to scrub out. I was sure glad that I wasn't on laundry duty this weekend. I'd take scrubbing the bathroom over scrubbing Dad's work clothes any day.

“We'll take them,” Mom said, her voice raising an octave in excitement. “Sam! Sam!”

Mom hung up the phone with a resounding
thunk.
She skittered out of the room in a flurry of activity. I set my pencil down and eyed the doorway. Curiosity gnawed at me. Careful to avoid the creaky floorboard, I crept toward the living room. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, I could hear the murmur of my parents' discussion. Mom's tone rose and fell in a cadence that told me she was excited about something. Dad's voice provided a calming baritone. Disappointed that I couldn't actually hear their conversation, I slunk back to the kitchen. My math homework glared at me from the table. With a shudder, I headed for the refrigerator to get a glass of milk.

As I sipped my milk, I leaned against the sink and gazed out the window at the lengthening shadows on the back lawn. I was just rinsing my glass when my parents came back into the kitchen. Mom's eyes were shining with enthusiasm, the corners of her eyes crinkling. The back door banged open, and my older sister, Kaye, tromped in followed closely by our dog, Pepper. The dog wiggled and wagged as she danced around Mom and Dad. Kaye dropped her ballet bag by Dad's boots.

“Do I have time to change before we eat?” she asked, running a hand along her sweaty neck.

Mom nodded. “Penny isn't home yet.”

Kaye hustled toward the stairs before anyone could say anything else. I huffed out an annoyed breath at my sister. How could she not have noticed that something was up? Something exciting was brewing, and I knew better than to ask. Mom and Dad wouldn't tell me until they were ready, so I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to focus on my math.

“Joanie, can you set the table?” Dad startled me so much that I dropped my pencil.

Glad to get away from my homework, I nodded. Pepper nuzzled my leg as I got up from the table. I patted her head, gave her a scratch behind the ears, and gazed into her lovely chocolate eyes. Honestly, Pepper was a really ugly dog, but she was so sweet no one could resist her. She understood where I was coming from.

Penny got home just as I set the last fork into place. She flopped down at the table, her cheeks red, breath coming in great puffs, like she had just run all the way home. I eyed her as she smoothed her hair. When Mom set a glass of milk in front of her, Penny gulped it down in one long swig. Where had she been? Penny was growing up, as Mom liked to remind me, and I didn't always understand the highs and lows of her moods. She made me nervous to become a teenager myself.

“Something's going on,” I said to her in a low voice when Mom went back into the kitchen.

With a slight quirk of her eyebrow, Penny asked, “Like what?”

I shrugged and snagged a roll from the basket Mom had placed on the table. “Something thrilling, from the way everyone is acting.”

Before we could discuss the matter further, Mom and Dad came into the dining room. Dad yelled for Kaye, who yelled back that she had to finish fixing her hair. Mom and Dad exchanged a look. We'd all seen that look before, and I felt the tiniest bit guilty that I was happy one of my sisters would be getting a lecture. When Kaye flounced down the stairs, still preening, my guilt melted away, only to be replaced by glee.

We waited while Dad served himself, then I dove in. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes with a side of green beans might not be a glamorous meal, but it sure hit the spot tonight. I was so focused on my food that I nearly forgot about the exciting news that Mom had. She sat across the table from Dad, worrying the edge of her napkin. The corners of her mouth tugged upward like she was trying to contain a smile.

Dad's gaze flickered to Kaye and his jaw clenched slightly, but then his eyes met Mom's and his expression changed. Just like it did every time he looked at her. “Oh, go ahead, Barb, tell them the news.”

Mom smiled. “The animal rescue called…”

“Not again,” Kaye muttered.

Dad shot her his
look
. Then Mom continued, “They found a mother dog who is lactating, but they couldn't find her puppies anywhere.”

Kaye rolled her eyes. “Not interested.”

“It's kind of sad,” Penny said softly, her eyes never leaving her plate. “What do you suppose happened to them? The puppies, I mean.”

Silence descended on the table. Finally Mom said, “I don't know, honey. They want us to foster her, though. Isn't that wonderful?”

Penny nodded then took another bite of food.

Kaye tapped her fork against the edge of her plate. “Sorry, not exciting and not sad. Can we move on?”

“Kaye.” Dad's warning chastised her enough that she sat back in her chair, but she crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him defiantly.

“Is that it?” I asked. “I mean, it's great to have another dog, but…”

The secret smile returned. I could barely breathe as I tried to decipher what information she was holding back. Some dark hair had escaped from her ponytail and curled around her face making her appear younger than she was. “The animal rescue also found a litter of puppies. Five, I think she said. They need a mother. So…the rescue wants to know if we'll help them get acquainted.”

“Puppies?” I could barely keep my voice from shaking. A wave of adrenaline washed over me. Dad had never wanted us to have puppies in the house before. Too much work. Too much mess. Too much noise. And now there would be five.
F
ive!

“When are we getting them?” Penny asked. She had finally looked up from her plate, and I could see my own exhilaration mirrored on her face. For a moment, she resembled the sister I remembered, not the moody girl she had become.

Mom opened her mouth to answer when, suddenly, a tiny, persistent wailing filled the air. Setting her napkin gently on the table, Mom got up. I slumped back in my seat, annoyance flickering through me. Couldn't Lee wait until Mom had at least told us when the puppies would be arriving? Babies have an awful sense of timing.

A moment later, Mom returned to the table bouncing baby Lee on her shoulder. My little brother burped and snuggled into the crook of Mom's arm as she took a spoonful of her mashed potatoes. Penny and I exchanged an impatient glance. I knew better than to ask outright. Mom was busy, and Dad hated when we pestered her. So there was nothing to do but wait.

I tried to eat, but the thought of five squirmy little puppies running through the house made my stomach flutter with excitement. Food didn't seem appealing at the moment. I tapped the tines of my fork against my plate, trying to be quiet, but failing when Dad reached over and stilled my hand.

“Let's finish, girls,” he said. “You can wash up while we get a place ready for this dog.”

My eyes widened, and I turned my gaze toward Mom. She caught me staring and nodded with a smile. “They are bringing them over tonight.”

Kaye frowned. “What about Pepper? Remember what happened when we got Charlie?”

“Yeah, well, Pepper needs another dog around,” Penny argued. “Ever since Duke…” Her voice cracked.

We all knew she missed Duke the most, but she'd deny it vehemently if anyone brought it up. Instead, Mom reached across the table with her free hand and squeezed Penny's hand.

“Don't worry about Pepper and Charlie,” she said. “These dogs won't be here long. We're fostering them, not adopting the lot.”

“And for tonight, Pepper can sleep up in your room,” Dad announced.

Kaye's eyes narrowed briefly. I wondered if she was looking for the trick in this plan. The moment passed then she merely shrugged and went back to her food. Dinner passed with agonizing slowness. If I leaned back just a bit in my chair, I could glimpse the kitchen clock and, I swear, the minute hand ticked backward at least three times.

When everyone had finished, I was the first to rush my plate to the sink. As I waited for the basin to fill with warm water, I added a bit of soap. Penny followed close at my heels.

“You wash, I'll dry,” she said, setting down her glass.

I nodded, a sudden tenseness consuming me. Speaking required too much of my brain power. I wanted to focus all my mental energy on enjoying the dogs. Fostering meant they might only be here for a few weeks, but that was long enough to get to love them. Dad wouldn't let us get another dog.

By the time we had the dishes done, the tenseness had turned into a knot in my stomach. I went out to the front porch to wait. The typical sounds of a Friday night filled the neighborhood: the boys across the street playing basketball in the driveway, a lawnmower grumbling down the block, closely followed by Old Mr. Henson's mild curses as the thing sputtered over a stick. A yellow car lumbered by, slowing down briefly in front of our house. My heart sped up. Could this be them?

Just as quickly, the car moved away, and my mood deflated. They had just paused to avoid a squirrel. I watched the furry little thing scamper up a tree in our front yard. Pepper barked in the back yard. Down the street, another dog answered her call. Where were they? I hugged myself. Even though it was late May, the evening breeze was chilly as the sun dipped low.

Summer vacation started in a few weeks. I tried to distract myself with all the plans I had: lots of bike riding and time at the pool. Summer would be more fun with all those puppies. I could picture the long, hot days spent walking multiple dogs down to the park a few blocks over. Our old dog, Duke, hated that park. Every time we went there, he'd start growling the minute we entered the park's perimeter. Then he'd start an all-out vicious bark as we neared the center, where a large statue stood. The man wore a large, plumed hat and held a sword out in front of him. I guess Duke thought the statue was real or something, and that he was protecting us. I wondered how the puppies would react.

The screen door opened behind me, and Mom settled on the top step. We sat in silence for awhile, watching and waiting. When a white van turned onto our street, Mom stood up. I had to restrain myself not to run out into the street. Excitement coursed through me. I followed her down the steps, dancing a little on the way.

A young woman with a long, blonde ponytail stepped out of the van. She smiled at us and reached out to shake Mom's hand.

“I'm Sue,” she said. “Jenny's in the back here. Todd will be bringing the puppies by in about an hour. We wanted to give Jenny some time to get settled before she has to become a foster mama to five little scamps.”

Mom nodded, stepping closer as Sue slid the van door open. The yellow lab that stared up at us had a sweet face but sad eyes. Sue reached in and snapped on a leash. With a gentle tug, Jenny lumbered to her feet and hefted herself out of the car. She wasn't exactly rotund, but her belly was round. As she turned circles on the grass, sniffing, stretching, and getting her bearings, I noticed her teats swollen with milk. I couldn't help but gape. She looked just like the cow we'd milked on our class field trip last year.

With a prod to my back, Mom nudged me forward. She took the leash from Sue and let Jenny sniff around for awhile. Once Jenny had relieved herself, Sue said goodbye. When we turned toward the house, Penny, Kaye, and Dad stood on the front porch. Penny looked just as jazzed as I felt, while Kaye seemed to be appraising the whole situation for its appropriate emotional response. Dad's mouth was set in a sort of grimace.