The Responsible Thing to Do [https://cdn.midjourney.com/4747c1e3-f291-4122-b553-8b5d8f7bf9a8/0_2.webp]
Terry…
The front door to Terry’s office was locked, and the blinds were closed. The office had grown cool. His clinic felt alien without the animal sounds of borders driving the quiet away. The line of kennels lay empty and clean except for one. He would turn on the heat before he left. Terry ran his hand along the top of the desk, and the puppy in his lap butted the underside of his wrist. They were going to be fine without him.
Penny Conte had moved her things into the back room apartment today. She seemed delighted to be spending the next few months keeping his business open as he resolved what was going on with his new family. She’d spent the morning with him, learning the client software they used. Her perfume still lingered in the space. A Shepherd from over at Pine Ridge, her oldest had just headed off to college. She’d jumped at the chance to put her hand back into animal husbandry work.
He smiled down at the squirming puppy in his lap. Her ears were as soft as velvet. They were kenneling the little girl while her family was at the beach. The spoiled little monster was irresistible. She made an ungodly amount of noise any time he put her in her kennel, even with a pile of stuffed animals and cozy blankets to destroy. As he scratched her hip, the little gal’s tongue lolled out of her mouth. They were keeping each other company as they worried about their family members, who were too far away.
The news that Kennedy and David were going to head north instead of coming home had placed him on edge. Jeremiah and he had been trying to hold together the financial side of things for the family. Staying at the farm, while safe for the moment, wasn’t the long-term solution they wanted. Rebuilding the cabin would take time, and more phone calls with his insurance company than he cared to think about.
Nothing was simple with Kennedy. Bringing in Penny would help him keep his practice open while he and his ring brothers worked together to get their crazy, stubborn woman through her pregnancy. Kennedy wasn’t making it easy. David, poor kid, had sounded frayed on the phone. Their woman had come by her stubborn nature honestly. He’d been texting her mother and grandmother all day, begging them to stay in place. The words were wasted time. They weren’t listening. The two women were safe where they were, but they wouldn’t stay put. Not a Bliss, never a Bliss. Sharp teeth worried his finger.
“That girl, still not in her place?” His mother’s voice made him jump, and the puppy squealed at being disturbed, and let fly a series of tiny angry barks.
Terry cursed in bear, low and under his breath. His mother was more cat than bear. She must have come in the side door. Her clothes were clean and her hair was drawn back into a neat braid. An improvement from the last time he had seen her, when she had looked like a forest spirit. He drew the puppy up to his chest, warm and complaining.
“Did I scare you?” She held his office key up, swaying it from its ring. It caught the moonlight that streamed through the skylight.
He scowled at her. She damn well knew she had. She’d meant to, damn her. When she tossed him the key, he snatched up his free hand and caught it.
“I thought I should return that to you, since that Conte woman was going to be around. It wouldn’t be fair to burst in on her unannounced.”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
He arched one brow as the puppy slumped her body across his lap. Pocketing the key, he signed with one hand, “How are you?”
“That’s not a question you ask the grieving. Not if you have any manners. Can’t you tell I’m peachy?” She grimaced, showing her teeth like a wounded animal.
He didn’t know what to say to her about the defiled land, the fire, the loss, or her grandchild. Being quiet and waiting for her to speak had been a survival strategy he had learned young.
She reached out her hands, and he offered her the curious monster of a puppy.
“This animal is not ugly enough to be a proper dog. She might grow into something, though. Look at those feet.” For once the dog was quiet, dangling in the air, held by a woman who was a force of nature. “Any others left of the litter?”
Terry turned his hands over, letting her know he didn’t have that information.
“Your Father loved his hunting dog, Betty. You probably don’t remember her. She looked like this as a puppy, all feet.” Terry hid his surprise when she snuggled the puppy against her chest. “She was a yappy little bitch when she was small, too.” She ruffled the dog’s ears. “Like you, eh? Lots to say.” A small smile touched her lips. “She was his shadow, always with him. I knew things had gone sideways the day she returned to our land without him.”
He remembered. Betty had been barely alive when she limped onto their property. Even though he’d been a kid, he’d tried to save her. Terry had wrapped a towel around the hound dog and held her torn stomach together as his mother had driven frantically into town.
It was the only time he ever saw her panic. That had scared him more than the dog’s injuries. She’d known before anyone that his father was gone for good. He hadn’t understood her crying over the table, as old Doc Perkins had stitched the parts he could, pumping fluids into the dying dog.
The two adults forgot Terry, who watched from where he stood by the wall, learning skills that would become his life’s work. That day, he’d learned you could stitch a soul back into a body. The living could force life back into the dead if the spirit had the will to fight. The injuries had been bad enough to kill any dog, but that stubborn mutt had lived on the desire to see his dad again. He’d decided to become a vet that day, in the shadows of this very room.
To the last of his days, that dog had spent every morning checking his parents’ house for signs of his father. Loyal beyond death. It’s part of why his mother had buried his father’s bones at the cabin. His grandparents had still lived there then. If she had placed his dad in the church yard in town, even dead, he would have dug his way up through the soil. When Terry was small, his mother had been too angry at Old Joe for his father’s body to be taken home to the mountain and his family. They’d blessed and warded the land the best they could.
Giving shelter and succor to one of the Lost had tainted the property where his dad had been placed to rest. There was only chaos where the Lost lingered. Kennedy was why his mother had moved his bones north to rest with his kin in the oak grove. She’d burned them, and sat in prayer until the dirt accepted them and something began to grow. If she showed him where, and the spot was right, he’d plant fiddle heads on his grave. His father had loved them.
The puppy lolled in his mother’s lean arms, enjoying the way she scratched along her ears. “Is it working? The wolves plan? Their shell game?”
Terry nodded, and signed, “It seems to be.” From what he’d been told, the story of the film students whose footage had been stolen and leaked had gained traction. There were various camps that were still divided and pointing fingers. The danger was not gone. Some things could not be returned to the bottle once poured out, but it was disbursing. Just another marketing trick. There were arguments online about whether it was theft, or just a complicated marketing push.
She lifted the puppy and looked at the animal’s face. “I don’t suppose I could steal this one.”
Terry crossed his arms.
“Damn shame. She’ll be wasted in some lazy, town bound family.” Reluctantly, she handed the animal back to him. As soon as Terry placed the puppy on the floor, the puppy released a flood of hot urine. He didn’t scold her. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it happen when his mother released her grip on someone.