Nick of Time (A Bug Man Novel) (10 page)

She watched the young family standing in her meadow as the dogs mingled around their feet. The little girl seemed afraid of them; she ducked behind her mother’s legs every time one of the pups came near. The boy was a few years older and he was grinning from ear to ear; he jumped from dog to dog like a flea, patting and stroking and scratching each one behind the ears. The mother and father just stood there, watching and smiling—and probably wondering how they would ever choose.

“Where do you get them all?” the woman asked.

“Shelters,” Alena replied. “Over in Front Royal and Winchester—sometimes down in Culpeper and Harrisonburg.”

“We saw your sign on the road—‘Free Dogs.’ When you got them from the shelters, did the dogs have any . . . you know . . . problems?”

“Yeah, they had a big problem,” Alena said. “It’s called ‘death by lethal injection.’ ” Alena felt suddenly irritated—like she was being accused of trying to stick these people with damaged goods. And she wasn’t even selling these dogs—she was giving them away! But she knew it was more than the woman’s simple question that had triggered her anger. She was mad because her gate was open, and she never left her gate open. She was mad because their car was parked on her land—they had driven right in and pulled off the gravel onto her grass. She was mad because they were standing in
her
meadow, looking at
her
dogs, expecting to take one of them away from
her
.

But what bothered her most of all was that it was her own idea.

Well—not completely. It was Gunner’s idea first—he was the one who had encouraged her to try to open up to people more. It was just the kind of thing a nosy pastor would suggest. Gunner reminded her that she was getting married soon, and that her husband was a college professor with responsibilities and social obligations, and that she couldn’t just hole up on a mountaintop anymore. Marriage would mean moving to Raleigh and becoming part of Nick’s world; marriage would mean a whole new life for her, Gunner said, a life full of not just dogs but people. But Alena had lived alone on this mountain since her father disappeared when she was only ten years old. She had surrounded herself with dogs like these ever since— faithful, beautiful creatures that she seemed to somehow understand and connect with on an almost supernatural level.

And after her father’s disappearance, when the people of the town of Endor began to spread rumors about her—when they began to call her
witch
and tell imaginary stories about unspeakable things she did with animals at night—well, she let them go right ahead. She never defended herself, not even once. Why bother? That kind of ignorance can’t be cured—why should she lower herself to their level?

So she closed her gate and locked it and that was that. And no one came through that gate anymore except for Gunner and dear sweet Rose, the only decent people in all of Endor—the only people who cared if she lived or died—the only people who had cared enough to bring her food and clothing and to talk with her and hold her. Behind this gate Alena had continued her father’s work—rescuing dogs doomed to perish, healing them, restoring their broken spirits, discovering the unique gift that each of them possessed from birth, and honing that gift until the dog could perform with uncanny ability.

For years these dogs had been her only “social connections,” and she had no idea how to begin to “open up to people” now—the very thought made her queasy. And that’s when she came up with the idea. For years she had rescued dogs from animal shelters and sold them to the Canine Enforcement Training Center in Front Royal, and to Puppies Behind Bars, and to a dozen other training facilities and nonprofits; why not give some of her rescued dogs to families looking for pets?

So she put up a sign and she opened her gate—and right now she regretted doing it. But she knew in her heart that Gunner was right—the dear man didn’t know how to give bad advice. Alena was getting married on Saturday, and that would mean a whole new life with Nick. And she wanted that life, even though she was afraid of it, and if this was how you got started on it, well—she was willing to give it a try.

“Sorry,” Alena said, fumbling for words. “My dogs don’t have any problems. They’ve got all their shots; no health problems, no heartworm, no fleas or ticks—I check them over myself every week.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” the woman said. “I just meant—”

“It’s okay. Some people think that mixed breeds are messed up somehow—you know, because they’re not
pure
. Fact is, it’s the purebreds that have most of the problems: joint problems, skin problems, eye problems—you know, the genetic stuff. Purebreds tend to have the temperament problems too— aggressiveness or hyperactivity. My dogs have a little bit of everything mixed in, so the genes sort of balance each other out. You might have to flex on looks a little, but if you’re just looking for a good, healthy animal, a mixed breed is the way to go. The way I look at it, we’re all mutts when it comes right down to it. The worst idea anybody ever came up with was that somebody’s blood was purer than somebody else’s.”

They were interrupted by the sound of crunching gravel. Alena glanced up just in time to see Gunner’s Ford Ranger pull off the gravel drive and park beside the family’s silver SUV. Gunner stepped out and waved as he started toward them.

“Did you come up to see how my rehab is going?” Alena called out.

“No, I’ve got a message for you—from Nick.”

Alena felt her heart do a sudden jump.

Gunner nodded a greeting to the family. “Morning, folks. Shopping for a dog today?”

“Yeah,” the man said. “The problem is, they all look great.

How do we ever settle on one?”

“Ask her,” Gunner said. “This woman knows more about dogs than anybody you’ll ever meet. If Alena tells you it’s a good one, you can depend on it.”

“They’re all good,” Alena said impatiently. “Just pick one. What did Nick say?”

“Take care of your customers first,” Gunner said. “I’m in no hurry.”

You’re in no hurry
. Alena gave him a piercing look. She knew what Gunner was doing—he wanted to watch and see how she was “opening up with people.”

“That’s a cute little one there,” the woman said, pointing to a cocker-poodle mix with oddly drooping ears.

“Terrific,” Alena said. “He’s all yours.”

“He? Oh—we were looking for a female.”

Shoot—this could take all day
. She walked around behind the little boy and looked over the pack of dogs. She spotted one—a female—a sleek brown beagle-pointer blend of medium size and build. She waited until the dog’s eyes met hers and then she snapped her fingers once; the dog came to immediate attention. She beckoned with her index finger and the dog approached; then she made a kind of peace sign and wiggled both fingers, as if she were making little quotation marks in the air. The dog rose up on its hind legs and placed one paw on each of the boy’s shoulders.

“Wow!” the boy said in amazement.

“Well, would you look at that!” his mother said.

“That’s amazing,” her husband replied. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I have,” Gunner said.

Alena shot him a look that could burn through wood.

“Is it a female?” the woman asked.

“Let me check,” Alena said. When she bent down to take a look she heard Gunner let out a snort; Gunner knew Alena could spot a female from across a field just by its build and gait. “You’re in luck,” she said. “This one’s a female.”

“We’ll take her,” the father announced triumphantly—and within minutes their SUV was rolling out the gate with a tailwagging addition to the family.

“You oughta be ashamed,” Gunner said with a grin.

“Manipulating those poor people like that.”

“That’s called ‘salesmanship,’ ” Alena replied. “Sometimes you have to help people make up their minds.”

“Uh-huh. And what happens when they get home and find out the dog doesn’t really have a psychic connection with their boy?”

“Maybe she will,” Alena said, “if the kid knows how to treat her. Now what did Nick say? And how come he called you instead of me? I went down to Endor last night like he told me to. I waited for over an hour—”

“Slow down,” Gunner said. “Give a man a chance. Nick called me this morning from Philadelphia; he called me because he knew he couldn’t reach you. He asked me to tell you he was sorry and to tell you that he wanted to call you last night but couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because he was in jail.”

Alena let out an exasperated gasp. “See, I knew this would happen. How did he end up in jail?”

“Apparently some friend of his was murdered.”

“Well, of course! Wherever Nick goes people seem to drop like flies—it’s like he’s the angel of death or something. So what happened?”

“Nick said he went to the friend’s house to try to investigate and there was some confusion with the police. They thought Nick shouldn’t be there, so—they arrested him.”

“
Confusion with the police
,” Alena said. “Is that how he described it? ’Cause that man has a very long history of
confusion with the police
—it’s the story of his life. Where is he now? Is he on his way home?”

“Not exactly,” Gunner said. “He said to tell you that he’s headed for a little town called Pine Summit.”

“Pine Summit—where’s that?”

“It’s somewhere in the Poconos.”

Now Alena did a slow and dramatic double take, complete with dropping jaw and eyes bulging in disbelief. “The Poconos.
Our
Poconos? The Poconos where we’re supposed to be spending our honeymoon just a few days from now? Isn’t he forgetting something—like
me
?”

“Now, Alena—”

“I knew this would happen—I knew it the minute he told me he wanted to leave. I knew Nick would run and keep on running until he was just as far away from me as he could get.”

“Alena, wait.”

“You know how I knew? Because Nick is a working dog, that’s why. He’s a tracker, he’s a pointer, he’s a retriever. He’s not a house dog—it’s just not in his blood.”

“Now stop that. You’re overreacting.”

“I know a working dog when I see one, Gunner—I train them, remember? I can spot the temperament a mile away, and I should have spotted it in Nick. What was I thinking? The guy was born to run, and he’s not about to stop for me.”

“
Stop
.” Gunner took her by the shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. “Look—you know that I love you like a daughter.”

Alena rolled her emerald eyes. “Here it comes. Every time you remind me you love me, it means you’re about to kick me in the pants.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

“Just get on with it.”

Gunner looked at her sternly. “I know you, kiddo—I’ve known you since you were a little girl. And I think I know Nick pretty well too—well, as much as anybody does. You know what your problem is? You talk about Nick like he’s one of your dogs—somebody you can train to do what you want; somebody who won’t disappoint you once he learns to obey; somebody you won’t have to explain things to because he’ll know what you want just by snapping your fingers. But Nick’s not one of your dogs, Alena—he’s a lot more complicated than that. You can’t just train him, and he won’t always obey you, and I can absolutely guarantee that a man will disappoint you from time to time—if you don’t believe me, just ask Rose.”

“I know,” she said. “Rose tells me what a big disappointment you are.”

“I’m serious. Maybe a working dog only lives to work, but a human being is different. Nick can do two things at once—he can love to work and he can love you at the same time.”

“Well, I’m only seeing half of it.”

“Did he ask you to marry him?”

She kicked at the dirt. “I guess so.”

“Then what are you whining about?”

She winced. “You think I’m whining?”

“The man forgets to call and you think he doesn’t love you; he has an errand to do and you think he’s never coming back. What would you call it?”

Alena felt her frustration gradually giving way to embarrassment and shame. “Well, what am I supposed to do while he’s gone? I’m going crazy just sitting around here.”

“You’re supposed to get back to work and trust your man. If you don’t trust him, it’s going to be a long marriage.”