California Schemin' - Kate George [83]
“I wouldn’t put it quite like that. I just prefer the quiet life. You are the antithesis of that. Trouble follows you around like a dog.”
“Speaking of dogs, what about Beans? What are you going to do with him?”
“Keep him. He can still come and stay with you when I’m away.”
“You’re dumping me and asking me to continue to take care of your dog? Why am I not surprised?”
I sat with my feet propped on the bench across from me, taking it all in and recapping in my mind. It was the same every time. I don’t want to be with you anymore, but I still want you to do me favors. Yep, that was the usual story.
“I can’t make you want to be with me, but don’t ask me to take care of your dog. He’s your responsibility. If you didn’t want to take care of him, you shouldn’t have adopted him.”
“I took him because I knew you wanted him. I did it for you. Anyway, he’s old enough now that Tank won’t eat him. He can be your dog.”
“I don’t want another dog.” I almost added I couldn’t afford another dog, but that would be ridiculous. It couldn’t cost more than a five spot a month to keep that dog happy. Anyway, this wasn’t a fight about the dog.
“You always want another dog. I understood when you were afraid Tank was going to eat him, but now? I think we’ve established that Beans has mastered Tank.”
“Will you leave the dog out of it already? This is not about the dog. It’s about you dumping me for the quiet life. Last I knew I was the one person you’d been waiting for your whole life. I’m having a hard time believing that you are letting that go because of a couple of freak incidents.”
“But I am, MacGowan. I can’t stand living with a pain in my stomach all the time. I can’t do my best work if I’m always trying to keep track of where you are. You know why I didn’t tell anyone I was going to California? I just wanted a few days’ peace. No news of your latest body. No fires, no floods. Just peace. Not a battle to the death in the back of a moving Jeep.”
I nodded and got up. What could I say to that? A battle to the death in the back of a moving Jeep. I went back to work.
Spring was finally threatening to arrive in Vermont. Snow persisted in the shadows and hollows, and my road was a mud hole; but the sun, when it appeared, was warm, and there was the smell of spring on the wind. There had been a media blitz when Senator Wallace disappeared, but after that died down, there hadn’t been any news or sightings of him. The excitement in South Royalton was Steve and Shirl’s upcoming wedding.
Bets were being swapped at the local bar. A third of the community’s members were willing to put good money on the wedding being a non-starter. If Steve was smart, he wouldn’t show. There was a lot of good-natured bickering over their chances of staying married, and Meg had asked me to do an article on the failure rate of peace officers’ marriages.
I was doing internet research. It was kind of depressing. The sound of the dogs barking interrupted my train of thought.
“Shut up! I’m working in here!” I shouted. I figured they could hear me even though the door was closed. The barking didn’t stop. If anything, it got louder and more frantic. Not good. I got up to see what animal they had cornered. It wouldn’t be the first time I had to call the dogs into the house so a poor raccoon they had treed could escape.
I knew the moment I opened the door that it wasn’t a raccoon. The odor smacked me in the face and made my eyes run. Great. I opened the kennels I kept on the porch for occasions like this and called the dogs. Ranger and Hank bounded up the stairs, tails going a mile a minute, their goofy faces all pleased with themselves. They reeked. My eyes stung, and I had to stifle a desire to puke.
“Annie! Diesel! Get you butts up here! Now!”
Diesel came first trotting sideways, torn between obeying his mom and the marvelous toy he’d been playing with. Annie came last, head down, tail between her legs. She knew she’d been bad. I about died when they got