Around the Bend (27 page)

“Okay, a duel it is.” I spun around, waited until Harvey had backed his little body up against my heels. “Five paces,” I said.

I marked off five steps, slow and easy, hoping like heck that Harvey was doing the same behind me. “Draw!” I said, in my best Clint Eastwood, before spinning around and aiming at Harvey.

He’d spun around and had his head tilted so the gun in his mouth was aimed in my direction. I waited for the popping sound, another technical detail added by Vinny’s helper, but heard instead only two long, drawn out syllables of disaster.

“Cee-Cee!”

The poodle had broken free from her owner and was racing through the room, careening off the spectators, the obstacles. I glanced over at Vinny’s helper, hoping the guy would tackle the overzealous poodle, but he was busy fumbling with the CD player, unaware of the pandemonium heading toward us. Just as he depressed the player’s button, Harvey spun toward Cee-Cee, cocked his head. The boom of a gunshot exploded from the sound system.

Cee-Cee, startled by the sound, skidded to a stop.

“Down!” I said to Cee-Cee, low and even, affecting as much alpha male as one widowed woman could muster.

The poodle wavered, then slid her front paws forward and lowered her white puffball frame to the ground. Harvey trotted over, and then, in typical Harvey drama, put one paw
on Cee-Cee’s back, as if he’d just nabbed himself a hell of a big white bear.

Applause boomed from the crowd as Cee-Cee’s red-faced owner marched over, attached a rhinestone-studded leash to her matching pink collar, then dragged her recalcitrant pooch offstage.

We’d done it. I looked down at the dog, stunned the routine had all come together and even better, been capped off by Cee-Cee’s wayward entry. Pride swelled in my heart, for the dog, for me and even, yes, for Dave. I had no doubt my husband was watching and laughing.

For the first time since I’d stood before that casket, my grief began to ease, opening a window into a new existence.

“Take a bow, Harvey,” I said, waving toward the crowd. Keeping his hindquarters up, Harvey put his front paws on the floor, then touched his nose to the carpet. Then he rose, pressed his body next to mine and did the same thing.

Something hitched in my throat. Harvey was a true star, all the wonder dog he’d been made out to be—

And yet, he didn’t mind sharing the limelight, with me, the one person who hadn’t wanted him around.

He’d captured the hearts of every single person in the room. And now, finally, he had mine, too. I’d never expected to like, much less love, the dog.

I flicked off the portable microphone attached to my pants, then leaned down and ruffled Harvey’s head. “You did a good job, boy. And thank you for giving Cee-Cee exactly what she deserved. You and me, boy, we make a good team.” I blew on my finger like it was a gun. At my feet, Harvey let out a woof of agreement.

The applause for Harvey’s performance and first-place finish, as well as winner of Best Dog Overall, thundered through the room, echoing off the convention center’s walls. A Miniature Pinscher in the corner began to tremble, the noise clearly too much for his pixie-size ears.

Harvey looked up from his position beside my shoes, his brown eyes wide and intent on my face, expectant. I bent over, gave him a quick stroke on the head, then stood again, holding his trophy and blue ribbon tight. “Good boy. Good job.”

Harvey kept staring, his tail still, his body rigid. I repeated my praise. Still, that tiny face remained fixed on mine, waiting for something. What, I had no idea.

I praised him again, the soaring feeling of completing something I’d never thought I could do still rising within me.

“Hey, Harvey! Good job!” Matt came up and joined me as Harvey and I exited the ballroom, making room for the other award winners to take the stage for Best in Show, Best Costume and Best Attitude.

Cee-Cee’s owner stood to the side, glaring at me. Clearly she blamed Cee-Cee’s traumatic ordeal in the ring on Harvey. The poodle had been so shaken up by the bogus shooting, she’d thrown up on her owner’s feet.

I couldn’t say I blamed the dog.

“Vinny watched on the closed-captioned TV in the other room,” Susan said, coming up to join us. She was still trailed by the infatuated Jerry, though Susan hadn’t done much more than glance in the poor guy’s direction. “He said Harvey did his best performance ever and to tell you congrats. After the crowd dies down, I think Vinny will stop breathing into a paper bag and come out and tell you himself.”

“It was phenomenal,” Matt agreed, a bemused smile on his face. “I had no idea you were such an actress.”

I felt my face flush at his praise. “Oh, no, I’m—”

“It’s a compliment, Penny. Don’t bounce it back like we’re volleying for serve.” He bent down, ruffled Harvey’s head, then stood again. “You both were amazing.”

Still, I fidgeted. When was the last time I’d been complimented on anything besides the accuracy of my numbers? The odd feeling of pride that had blossomed on the stage now bloomed in my chest.

“Dave would have loved this,” I said softly, tenderness curling around my memories of my husband. Dave would have been the first out with the “attaboys” and the call for a celebration. I looked at the glistening trophy, a golden dog sitting atop an A-frame obstacle, and for the first time since my life had been turned inside out, I wished my husband were still here.

My focus went to Harvey. He still stood at my feet, ignoring
all the praise and pats on the head. He simply watched me, silent and unreadable. I reached into my pocket, found a lone dog treat and held out my palm for him to take it.

He ignored the treat and instead turned away, his attention going over his shoulder, sweeping the ballroom. His ears perked up for a second, then drooped. He let out a sigh and hung his head.

“I think he’s sad,” Susan said.

“He’s a dog, he doesn’t get sad.” And yet, I wondered if maybe he was. In the past two days, I’d grown closer to that dog than I’d ever thought possible. Melancholy seemed to be hanging on his little shoulders. Maybe it was post-show letdown or some such thing.

The winners were announced a final time as the show wrapped up. Someone in the audience shouted a “Yeah, Harvey!” The dog’s ears stood at attention again and he pranced in a circle, scanning the audience. But after a moment, his head sank again onto his chest. He dropped down and crumpled onto the floor.

“Do you think he’s looking for Dave?” Susan asked.

“He’s probably confused,” I said, though what I knew about dogs would fit in a matchbook. “Every time he’s performed here, Dave has been here to greet him at the end of the show. Maybe he’s expecting Dave to show up.”

I knew how he felt. Every step of this journey, I’d kept feeling Dave would be just around the corner, laughing at the prank he’d pulled. I’d see him walk into the room, his familiar smile and confident stride hitting me like it used to years ago, when I’d fallen so hard for him I’d committed the second biggest spontaneous act of my life—

Eloping.

Harvey, I knew, missed Dave. Harvey hadn’t been at the funeral or the wake. He’d never seen Dave again after being dropped at Susan’s house. He had no idea what had happened.

Oh, damn. How did you tell a dog that his owner was dead?

“Let me get him out of this mess,” I said to Matt and Susan. “I’ll meet you guys out front. Maybe he needs to go out or something.” I wove my way through the crowd, trying to reach the exit of the convention hall.

“Excuse me! What are you doing with Dave Reynolds’s dog?”

I spun around at the sound of a woman’s voice behind me. Tall and thin, her long brown, straight hair was a near match for that of the Irish setter at her feet. Before I could answer her, she was striding up to me. “Where’s Dave? He never misses one of Harvey’s shows.”

“He passed away,” I said, the words getting a little easier each time I said them, but still feeling like barbed wire as they left my throat.

She put a hand over her chest. “Oh, my! I thought I heard LouAnn Rawlins say that, but I didn’t believe her. That woman is nothing but a gossip. Still, what a shock. He was such a great guy. We all loved him and Harvey. He’s been a fixture here for years.” The woman arched a brow. “But why are you working with the dog? Are you one of Vinny’s helpers?”

“No. I’m Dave’s widow.” Or rather, the president of the Dave Reynolds Widow Club, but I kept that to myself.

“Oh, dear, I’m so sorry.” The hand to the chest again. “What an awful tragedy. He was so young. What happened?”

“Heart attack.” The woman launched into another round of sympathetic sounds. I slipped on my polite face, the one I’d learned to perfect when teachers had asked me how things
were at home or I made up some story for the guidance counselor about why our mother hadn’t attended the meeting about Georgia’s shaky grades.

“Were you a friend of Dave’s?” I asked her.

“Oh, everyone was. He was one of the nicest guys I ever met.”

I gave Harvey a little pat, but he didn’t respond with more than a flicker of his tail. “Yes, Dave was quite charming,” I replied, still polite.

“Well, at least you put one rumor to rest. People have been wondering about you.”

“Rumor?”

The woman waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, some people have been speculating that Dave finally sold Harvey.”

I looked down at the dog, who was still just sitting beside me, silent and as enthusiastic as a sock. “Sell him? Why would Dave do that?”

The woman shrugged, watching as her dog tried to initiate the canine waltz of sniffing. Harvey ignored him. “It was just something he kicked around once, a couple months ago at one of the other shows. He seemed real determined to do it. Even asked a couple of us if we were interested in taking on the Harvey franchise. But none of us thought he was serious. Dave loved that dog.”

“Was he having troubles with Harvey?”

“Oh, no. Those two got along like butter and toast. I got the feeling there was something…” Her voice trailed off and an uncomfortable stiffness filled her features.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Dave died so suddenly that I was left with a lot of unanswered questions. If there’s something you can tell me to fill in the blanks, I’d appreciate it.”

The woman took my arm and drew me over to one of the long seats that lined the exterior walls of the hotel. Her dog lay at her feet and let out a yawn. Harvey kept looking behind him, watching the people come out of the room.

“I got the feeling,” the woman said, “and I could be totally wrong about this, but it seemed Dave wanted to change his life somehow. Like he wasn’t happy with what was going on. It was the first time I ever saw him stressed. He said he was buying a new house and I don’t know, maybe that meant some kind of change that he wanted to be ready for?” A weak grin crossed the woman’s face, as if she’d just realized she might have told me too much. “Or maybe he was afraid Harvey would chew up the woodwork.”

We had bought the house December fifteenth. I’d meant to get the Christmas decorations up that weekend, something I’d skipped doing for far too many years because I’d been too busy. Then a client called me on Saturday morning, needing help to clean up an end-of-the-year accounting mess. When I finally came home from work that weekend night, Dave had been there, a complete surprise, because he’d left the day before for what was supposed to be a three-day trip.

The tree was decorated, Bing Crosby was crooning “White Christmas” on the stereo, a fire was lit in the fireplace, candles were burning around the room, even my favorite cinnamon potpourri was simmering in a pan on the stove. He’d done it all, creating the one thing he knew would melt my heart because I’d never had one as a child—a traditional, homey Christmas.

He’d told me over a glass of wine by the fireplace, one of the coziest moments we’d had in months, that he was going to cut back on his travel because he really wanted us to make
a stab at having a family. Softened by the tender gesture of the Christmas tree and the melody of “Silent Night” in the background, I’d finally agreed.

“Was this around the middle of December?” I asked the woman.

She thought a bit. “Yeah. December seventeenth, actually. I remember because of Her Highland Warrior here.” She gestured toward the dog with an embarrassed grin. “What can I say? I’m a romance novel fan. Anyway, my dog took his first ribbon in agility. Harvey, of course, was the favorite for first place in overall talent, but Dave had left before the competition on Sunday morning. We figured it was all a phase and he’d be back. We all expected to see him here.” The woman looked over at me, at the ring on my finger and my grip on the dog’s leash, then laid a hand over mine. “I really am sorry. Did you guys have any children?”

I shook my head. “No.”

But it had been in the plans. I’d finally relented, thinking that maybe that was what I needed to do to keep my husband home at night, that if I had a baby, with Dave at my side, I’d get over my resistance to being a parent.

I’d also thought a baby might restore the spark that seemed to have gone out between us, maybe even restore the zing that had deserted me, compounded by a husband who had grown more distant each year, physically and emotionally. But I’d had the feeling, even as we bought the house and made plans for a fence and a nursery, that something was slipping out of my fingers and if I didn’t grab it back, it would be gone forever. When I had agreed to the idea of a baby, that feeling of loss had passed temporarily and for a while, things between us had been almost like old times.

Almost.

Working with Harvey in the ring had given me a reprieve from my self-blame. Maybe, with Dave, it had been less about a baby and more about me finding my true self.

Either way, I wasn’t going to go back to being exactly the way I had been before. For once, that thought didn’t terrify me.

“Anyway,” the woman said, “we’re all glad to see Harvey staying in Dave’s family. He’s such a part of the dog community.” She bent down and patted the dog, who showed about as much response as a fence post. “We love ya, Harv.”

With a final sympathetic touch to my shoulder, the woman rose, wished me well, then went off, with Her Highland Warrior trotting along at her side, clearly not affected by his romance novel nomenclature.

I rose and crossed to the windows, just as the show ended and people streamed out of the hall’s doors.

Had Dave been about to give it all up, for me? Or did he have other plans in mind? And when I’d delayed the promise I’d made him, again and again, had that been what drove him back into Susan’s arms?

Or was I trying to create shapes out of clouds that were thin and wispy? Trying to frame a picture of a marriage that was still too blurry around the edges to discern any details?

“What do you think, Harvey?” I asked, bending down to the dog. “You have any opinions on what the heck Dave was thinking?”

Poor Harvey’s face was as droopy as a limp piece of celery. Maybe he already knew Dave had died. Maybe he’d understood my conversation with the woman.

I unclipped his leash, thinking if I held him, this heavy
sadness would lighten. But the second the silver clip slipped out of the circular connection, Harvey bolted, his nails scrabbling against the carpet for purchase, propelling him forward, a tiny furry rocket. He sniffed the air, a canine pinball pinging off the walls, down the hall, back again, searching.

“Harvey!” I cried, taking off after him. The new high heels I’d bought for the show slid against the carpet, catching my step.

The thick crowd of chattering contestants and their pets separated me from the terrier, whose wily body slipped easily under and between the canine and human legs. He was out of sight before I could make my way to the outside perimeter of the people mass. I pushed by a man in a dark suit, still calling Harvey’s name, then stopped short.

In the far corner of the room, a door to the outside had been left open. Maybe to release some of the heat in the convention hall. Or maybe left propped open by a security guard sneaking a smoke break. Bright sunshine streamed in across the crimson carpet, blazing a golden path to freedom.

“Harvey!” The word fell on deaf dog ears.

Harvey was gone.