Escape (42 page)

The grandfather oak still wore a few dried brown leaves, each clinging with a last tenacious thread. The boulder arch looked granite-cold, and beyond, in the play of sun on snow, lay a mirror forest of shadows.

Without the rich spread of birch or beech, the landscape was open and bleak, but I found it no less appealing. Here was another side of forest life, with chickadees sifting through hemlocks not for bugs, now, but for cones. And the brook—there it was, leading me in with the soft trickle of water around and between jagged shards of ice.

Breathless, I brushed off a rock and sat on my side of the stream. My hands cupped the baby through my pockets, though it warmed me in this frozen world, rather than the other way around. I studied the opposite bank, but the snow was undisturbed.

I had seen the coyotes in September and October, but by November, they were elsewhere, and though I continued to hope, I was a realist. With the forest pruned and lots of open space, they would have heard me well in advance—if not the crunch of my boots, then my breath, which came quicker under the weight of the baby.

With less to block its path, sound was augmented, which was why I jumped when my phone rang. I hadn’t felt it vibrate—there was too much padding between it and me—and the ensuing ring echoed.

“Hey,” I said, clicking in to James’s number.

“Hey, yourself” came his deep voice with an element of excitement that I was hearing more often. “Where are you?”

“Up by the stream.”

“In the
woods
? Geez, Em. Is that safe?”

“Coyotes are gone, bears are in hibernation, and fisher cats are nocturnal.”

“I mean, hiking alone.”

“That’s why I have my phone.” Oh yes, phones had their uses. “If I’m in trouble, someone can be here in minutes.”

“Try ten. I’m on my way.”

Starting down myself, I met him in five, though I stopped well before he saw me. Still a distance away, he was distracted, alternately walking and trotting, talking softly to someone—no, to
something
at the end of a leash. Its fur was thick and black, its face and chest white as the snow. Its eyes, which I already knew to be blue like his, swung worriedly from James to me and back.

Pressing my hands in my pockets, I stayed where I was. When James saw me, he lit up, though his voice remained low and calm. “Is this amazing? I can’t let him off-leash, because he might get spooked and run, but look at how far he’s come. He knows me. He remembers me.”

“He should,” I remarked, amused. “You’re there with him every time we come back.” When he looked ready to deny it, I said, “I’m doing my own thing, and where else would you be? There are only so many places to go.”

“He needs a friend.” Clearly, James was it. The dog was sitting by his side, looking up at him now, waiting for direction.

“So,” I began cautiously, “is this a … trial run?”

James didn’t speak.

Not a trial run, then. The real thing. Oh my.

“You don’t look surprised,” he said.

How could I be? “Like I didn’t see you studying the cargo area of the SUV we were looking at last week? Like I haven’t walked past your shoulder and seen Aussie info on your computer screen?”

“And you’re thinking the timing is bad,” he said, “but it may not be, Em. I’ve found a dog trainer who will work with us on the abuse issues, and I’ve talked with a dog walker in our neighborhood who will take us on. Yeah, we’ll be moving, but we already know we want a house with a yard and neighbors with kids, and neighbors with kids have dogs, which means parks and dog walkers wherever it is.”

“How will he be with the baby?”

“
Fine
. That’s the best part. One of the handlers at the Refuge has been walking around in the pen wearing his newborn in a carrier on his chest, and this dog is totally gentle.” As steadily as the dog’s eyes were on James, his were on me. “We can do this, Em. I know we can.”

Testing, I walked slowly down the hill toward them. The dog was watching me now, though it had inched close enough to James so that its flank brushed his leg. I stopped an arm’s length away and hunkered down.

“Hey, there,” I said softly, and held out a hand. It took him a minute, but he sniffed it. “
Good
dog,” I cooed. Though he didn’t look entirely comfortable, he let me scratch his head. I looked up at James. “This dog needs a name.”

“Pal.”

“That’s hokey.”

James wasn’t put off. “It’s short. It’s easy to say. And it’s spot-on, because he will be my pal. We’ll be running together.” Yes, he was running again, another priority higher now than work. His eyes were filled with hope and as blue as the sky. “Don’t you see? This dog won’t let us forget to make time for things like that. We need him, he’s our safeguard. Other than a microchip for ID, there is nothing high-tech about him. If we own a dog like this, there is no way we’ll go robotic again.”

“But we’re having a
baby
,” I tried in a last-ditch shot at reason.

James didn’t blink. “Kids need dogs. Dogs teach them responsibility.” He hunkered down by this one’s side, as I continued to scratch its ruff. I would have sworn the dog was smiling at having us both nearby, just as I knew that if a strange person were to suddenly thunder
up the hill, he would freak out. But James was right. He had come a long way. We could give him a good home. A stable home. A
kind
home.

“Please,” James said softly.

Resting on my heels, I wrapped my arms around my knees and studied my husband. He had given so much, had come so far himself in the last few months. I wasn’t sure I could deny him this, especially not when part of me wanted it, too. Wanted it? Was
desperate
for it, now that the possibility was immediate and real. Hadn’t I made this a priority that day when I buried my kitten?

Getting a dog right now, particularly one with special needs, might not be wise, but wise wasn’t always best. Heart had to come into play, and looking at this dog, that was where I felt the tug. My kitten hadn’t made it to my home, but this dog could. He needed us. We needed him. Bringing a living, breathing creature into our family would be personal and rich. That had to count for something. Right?

The baby answered with an emphatic kick. My sign.

And so the dream grew to include Pal.

Acknowledgments
 

The concept for
Escape
came to me within hours of finishing the writing of
Not My Daughter
. That one had been a long haul, with lots of wonderful personal interruptions, like the wedding of my son, but I had been under tremendous work stress and was exhausted. All I wanted at that moment was to get away from my computer, turn off my BlackBerry, and … and escape from anything that required deep thought.

That was in June 2009. And I did chill out for much of the summer while I considered one story idea after another for my next book. But I kept coming back to the theme of our busy, tech-dominated lives and the fantasy of escape. In September, I posted a note on my Facebook page, asking readers where they would go if they were to pick up one day and just disappear—and the response was overwhelming, both in the number of notes and their enthusiasm. Apparently, I was not the only one fantasizing about running away.

That did it. How could I not write a book about this?

So I herewith acknowledge my readers, who were the single most important influence in the writing of this book. I didn’t use outside people for research with
Escape
, as I’ve done with other of my books. This one came straight from the heart.

BARBARA DELINSKY is the author of more than nineteen best-selling novels with over thirty million copies in print. She has been published in twenty-five languages worldwide and lives with her family in New England.