Thirty minutes later, it’s time for me to leave, but before I do, I saunter outside to Yorktown’s main entrance. Cosgrove said on the Bulldog Tour that it used to be an elevator for the airplanes when she was in service, so I’d like to get a closer look.
Regardless, I pause when I see Temple and Natalie—and Teddy—talking on the pier, their backs turned to me. A zephyr of summer air blows the grass in the marsh, and waves form on the Cooper River’s surface.
I study the river’s clear but murky water and wait until Temple and Natalie finish talking. This is the lowest I’ve seen the tide since starting here. I can even see the Yorktown’s hull resting on it—incredible. It’s low tide, but this ship’s not budging. She doesn’t even look stuck in forty feet of mud. It’s remarkable how such a little thing fascinates me. I wonder if I can convince Temple to let me volunteer here twice a week instead of once to have more opportunities to re-witness this phenomenon.
Speaking of Temple, it looks like he and Natalie are finished talking. They turn and notice me standing on the elevator.
Natalie waves, and Teddy attempts to break free from her. Oh, right. We still have to take him to the vet.
Temple remains behind, but Natalie and Teddy hike to the large staircase leading to the main entrance. Natalie carries Teddy from the bottom stairs to the top and me.
She sets him down, and Teddy hobbles to me, occasionally slipping on the elevator’s wood. He whimpers when he approaches and rubs against me like he has a little feline in him.
I’m just about to pet him when Natalie approaches and throws her arms around me. Well, this is unexpected. What did Temple tell her?
“I’m so proud of you, Daddy.” Natalie releases me and grasps my hand. “Temple said you gave Tallulah that picture to help our investigation. He said you made great progress today.”
To be fair, Natalie, I only did it to be a better father, but then I found myself on another Bulldog Tour, finding Ted’s name and grieving alongside Temple when he told me his daughter’s story.
Natalie wraps her arm around me and leads me inside to the regular elevator.
“Aw,” a few people say at seeing Teddy, who sticks close to me the entire journey.
A few Volunteers even ask, “Is he your dog, Bill?” while Natalie and I wait for the elevator.
“He is,” I reply, but I don’t know how long I’ll have Teddy.
The jitterbugs from earlier return, and I shake slightly the rest of the way to the parking lot and Natalie’s car. Of all the days we visit the vet, this has to be the one on which I progress at Patriots Point, and I am a little proud of myself.
I comfort Ted and whisper, “Don’t worry, Teddy, we’re in this together.”
Natalie shoots me a side look with this sentence.
***
I never thought a hospital would feel more like a threat than a haven. Teddy’s just been taken in for his checkup, and Natalie and I sit in the waiting room. A few cats mew from their carriers, and a few dogs growl at them. Teddy hasn’t growled around Sophie since we got him. Likewise, she’s begun warming up to him, so there’s no reason why we can’t keep him.
I practice my pitch internally and glance at Natalie, who’s reading one of her new books. She checks her phone occasionally, and I watch while she grows happier by the second. If only I knew what she and Tallulah were investigating.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
I sigh and finally ask, “Natalie, what are you and Tallulah investigating?”
She hesitates and replies, “I can’t tell you, Daddy, not until the right time.”
“May I ask if you, Tallulah, and Temple are working together?” I include. “Please?”
Natalie playfully pinches my nose. “Just be patient a little longer, Daddy. We’ll tell you eventually. Right now, let’s focus on Teddy.”
I guess this is my cue.
I remove my hat and hold it to my chest, crossing my ankles. “Natalie, I’ve been watching Teddy these past few weeks. I’ve never seen such a well-behaved dog.” This isn’t awkward at all. “He listens to every one of my commands. He knows we won’t hurt him; we only want to save him from more reckless drivers.”
Natalie rolls her eyes, but I don’t know if it’s a good roll. “You don’t have to try so hard, Daddy,” she interrupts before I begin my following sentence. “We’re going to keep him—at least until he fully recovers.”
I nearly jump out of my skin. “We are? I mean, you decided to?”
“For now,” Natalie answers. “As for the future—that depends on you and me.”
“I’ll do anything to keep him, Natalie,” I blurt. “You know I will.”
She giggles. “Yes, I do, but you remember our deal. Keep healing at Patriots Point, Daddy; I’ll try to get more comfortable around Teddy in the meantime.”
“Thank you, Natalie,” I say, embracing her. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you,” she returns, rubbing my back, “even though we have disagreements.”
“All daughters and fathers have disagreements,” I remark, “but as long as we work through them, we’re fine.” I believe I just surprised myself, Natalie, too.
“When did you learn this, Daddy?” she inquires.
“I think today,” I admit.
The door in the back of the vet opens, and out steps the veterinarian from before, along with his technician and Teddy.
Wearing a light blue cast around his leg, Teddy stumbles to me. I notice that the vet and technician have already signed his cast.
“Teddy,” I say, pulling him close.
“His leg’s doing much better,” the vet explains. “We believe it’ll be fully healed in another month.”
A month. One more month with Teddy and one more month to prove to Natalie that we should adopt him full-time. Now, I merely need to figure out where to start.
Natalie and I drive home quietly through the busy roads of Charleston, South Carolina. They’re not as traffic-filled as New York, but they’re up there. We return home at 3:30 PM, thanks to a train stopping on North Rhett Avenue, the avenue we live off.
Natalie and I climb out of the car and help Teddy inside.
Sophie greets us and purrs against Natalie.
She feeds her and then heads out to work on her garden.
Meanwhile, I change into more comfy clothes in my room and remove a box from under the bed. Grunting, I slap it down on the bedspread and open the flaps, propping my cane on my dresser. I rummage through the box and see Teddy enter my room out of the corner of my eye.
He hops onto my bed, and I say, “Teddy!”
Teddy lies down and shoots me his puppy eyes. I can’t say no to them and that cast on his leg.
“Okay, fine,” I say, sitting on my bedspread beside him, “but we must ensure Natalie doesn’t see you. We’re trying to convince her to adopt you full-time, remember?” I bop Teddy’s nose and drag the box close to me. “And I think I know where to start.”
I search for a few minutes and ask myself, “Where is it? Where is it?” Finally, I hit a frame at the box’s bottom. “There it is.”
Teddy studies me questionably while I remove the frame. It holds a New York Times newspaper article from 1967. The title reads: Violent Shootout in New York City Alleyway Leaves Two Dead, Child Missing.
The second I read this article in the diner that day, I hurried outside to the Big Apple and searched the alleyways. I eventually found a traumatized little girl cornered by a feral dog. I scared it away by making a loud sound and left that alleyway with my daughter. I framed the article to never forget my “Miracle after Ted”.
And now I hear that Temple’s daughter died on the USS Yorktown. I have it so well compared to others, but I can only mourn Ted. I really am just a selfish, grumpy old man who has never shown enough love to that little girl he saved when her parents were murdered.
“I need to help her,” I tell Teddy. “Return the favor. She’s sacrificed so much for me over the years.”
Teddy whines and slides to me, setting his chin on my thigh. What a beautiful animal. He knows what I’m thinking and feeling and changes his demeanor depending on my emotions.
“‘You need to let go of that Navy Myth to remain emotionless,’” I repeat, remembering Temple’s words from today. “‘You lost someone you loved. It’s okay to express that.’”
And what did I think? Not when you’re ninety-one years old.
“Oh, Teddy,” I whimper, hugging him, “I’ve messed up so much over the years and don’t know how to fix it.”
We’ll get through this as one, Bill, reads Teddy’s eyes. I promise.
End of Act II: Tame the Bulldog
Current Word Count: 31,483