Authors: Nicholas Edwards
Dog Whisperer (9 page)
Mrs. Griswold might have been tall once, but as long as
Emily had known her, she had been hunched over a cane. She was probably in her early sixties, but it was hard to be sure. Her hair was closer to white than grey and was almost always piled up messily underneath a floppy, beige fishing hat, complete with homemade lures. Mrs. Griswold was the kind of person who
always
wore a sweater, no matter how warm it was, and wasâeven by crusty New Englander standardsâconsidered “peculiar.” As far as Emily was concerned, she was just
mean
âand really weird, too.
Emily had known her, she had been hunched over a cane. She was probably in her early sixties, but it was hard to be sure. Her hair was closer to white than grey and was almost always piled up messily underneath a floppy, beige fishing hat, complete with homemade lures. Mrs. Griswold was the kind of person who
always
wore a sweater, no matter how warm it was, and wasâeven by crusty New Englander standardsâconsidered “peculiar.” As far as Emily was concerned, she was just
mean
âand really weird, too.
“What's all this?” Mrs. Griswold demanded. “Why are you sitting there staring at my house?”
“I-I'm sorry,” Emily said quickly, as the woman came barreling down her front walk towards them, making remarkably good time on her cane. “My dog got a little bit tired. We're just, umâwe're about to leave.”
Zack got up and waved his tail charmingly.
Mrs. Griswold narrowed her eyesâsurprisingly clear blue eyesâat him. “Since when do you people have a dog?”
“Um, sinceâ” Emily felt so nervous that she couldn't remember. “I'm not sure. Just, you know, recently.”
Mrs. Griswold scowled at both of them. “Well, I had better not hear that animal barking. I don't like to be disturbed.”
Emily was much too polite to say “yeah, no kidding,” but she
did
think it. “No, ma'am. He won't.”
did
think it. “No, ma'am. He won't.”
They looked at each other uncomfortably, but also not without some mutual hostility.
“Go on with you now,” Mrs. Griswold said crossly. “I can't hear myself think, with you out here watching like this.”
Emily, for one, did not need to be told twice. “Come on, boy,” she said, and led him down the road towards her house.
Zack followed her amiably enough, but she saw him look back a couple of times, obviously curious.
It was a big relief to see Bobby heading in their direction, dragging the red metal wagon along behind him. Since he was so much heavier now, because of eating regular meals, it was kind of a
production to get Zack up
into
it. It was great that he wasn't as thin and bony as he had been even a couple of days earlier, but, it
did
make him more difficult to lift.
production to get Zack up
into
it. It was great that he wasn't as thin and bony as he had been even a couple of days earlier, but, it
did
make him more difficult to lift.
“Why didn't you guys wait for me?” Bobby asked, looking disappointed. “I came back like, as fast as I could.”
“Mrs. Griswold came out,” Emily said, and couldn't hold back a shiver.
Bobby's eyes widened. “Wow, did she throw anything at you?”
Emily shook her head. “I think she maybe wanted to, but she just told us she didn't want us in front of her house, so we left.”
“Did she scream and shake her fist?” Bobby asked.
Emily shook her head. “Not really. She was justâcross.”
“Did she have her gun?” he asked.
Since she figured he was kidding, Emily nodded. “Yeah. It was
huge
. Like in the movies.”
huge
. Like in the movies.”
Bobby's eyes widened even more.
“I'm kidding,” she said.
He blushed, but nodded. “Yup. Knew you were.”
Maybe.
Once he was finally in the wagon, Zack seemed
to like his new perch very much, lounging there quite regally. His cast was casually propped up on the side of the wagon, and he had stopped panting. His tail was dangling over the edge, and she picked it up, tucking it inside the wagon so that it wouldn't get caught in the wheels.
to like his new perch very much, lounging there quite regally. His cast was casually propped up on the side of the wagon, and he had stopped panting. His tail was dangling over the edge, and she picked it up, tucking it inside the wagon so that it wouldn't get caught in the wheels.
“He looks pretty happy,” Bobby said. “Maybe we should take him for a little ride.”
Emily nodded, since Zack seemed positively delighted to be sitting in the wagon, and no longer tired at all. “Sure, why not? We haven't been able to explore much, and he's probably curious about what's around here.”
So they pulled him almost all the way up to the access road, before turning around to go back. Her mother called her cell phone at one point, to ask why they weren't home yet, and when Emily explained, her mother laughed and said that they should go ahead and give him the grand tour.
Zack really seemed to enjoy trundling alongâeven though the ride must be pretty bumpy. He looked around attentively at everything they passed, almost as though he was taking mental notes about the entire neighborhood.
Then again, there wasn't
that
much to show him. This part of the peninsula was narrow, so they could
see the water on both sides of the road. Except for a huge ultra-modern mansion that had been built by summer people who visited maybe two weekends a year, the houses were mostly on the small side, and surrounded by pine trees. The dirt road itself was very sunny, and dry enough to be dusty, but most of the houses were in the shade. The lots were pretty far apart, and the area was wooded enough so that each home seemed quite private.
that
much to show him. This part of the peninsula was narrow, so they could
see the water on both sides of the road. Except for a huge ultra-modern mansion that had been built by summer people who visited maybe two weekends a year, the houses were mostly on the small side, and surrounded by pine trees. The dirt road itself was very sunny, and dry enough to be dusty, but most of the houses were in the shade. The lots were pretty far apart, and the area was wooded enough so that each home seemed quite private.
Most of the houses had docks, and at least half of them had sailboats or motorboats anchored nearby. Dr. Henrik, who had taught geology at the college before he retired, waved at them from his
really
impressive English flower garden, and they waved back.
really
impressive English flower garden, and they waved back.
“Fine dog you have there, Emily!” he called. “Your father told me all about it, down at the store.”
“Thank you!” Emily called back. “His name's Zachary.”
Dr. Henrik nodded approvingly. “Excellent choice. Very dignified. I'll be sure to tell everyone when I go down to get the evening edition.”
Obviously, there was more than one store in town, but everyone in this part of Bailey's Cove always bought their milk and newspapers and other necessities at Cyril's Mini-Mart. Cyril had run the
little store for years, and
looked
like he was about a hundred and twenty, although he ran around like he was onlyâeighty or so. The rumor around town was that he never actually slept, because the store
always
seemed to be open, even during the middle of hurricanes and blizzards. Cyril liked everyone, except tourists, Mrs. Griswoldâand Bobby.
little store for years, and
looked
like he was about a hundred and twenty, although he ran around like he was onlyâeighty or so. The rumor around town was that he never actually slept, because the store
always
seemed to be open, even during the middle of hurricanes and blizzards. Cyril liked everyone, except tourists, Mrs. Griswoldâand Bobby.
“Want to go down and say hi to Cyril?” Emily asked.
“Ha,” Bobby said, and made a face.
When he was about six years old, Bobby had tried to shoplift a Snickers bar from the front counter, and Cyril had never forgiven him. For that matter, Cyril always referred to Bobby's father as “that lousy roughneck punk,” because when he was about the same age,
he
had stolenâand promptly eatenâa piece of red licorice from the penny candy section. Because of that, Cyril described Bobby's entire family as being “bad to the bone.”
he
had stolenâand promptly eatenâa piece of red licorice from the penny candy section. Because of that, Cyril described Bobby's entire family as being “bad to the bone.”
But Cyril loved hockey more than anything, and Emily had learned that the best way to get along with him was to say, “How are those Black Bears doing, sir?” every time she saw him. Asking about the Portland Pirates or Boston Bruins worked pretty well, too. He didn't care much about the Bowdoin Polar Bears, but since she was a faculty child,
he was polite about that and pretended to find them interesting, too.
he was polite about that and pretended to find them interesting, too.
A couple of cars were coming down the road, and they moved the wagon safely off to the side, waiting for them to go by. One of them was being driven by Kurt, who sometimes hauled traps for Bobby's father, and he beeped the horn once at them as he passed. The other car was going very slowly, and ended up stopping about a hundred feet away.
Some people who were obviously touristsâit was always easy to tell, from the souvenir t-shirts they were inclined to wear, to the delighted “isn't New England
adorable
” expressions they often had on their facesâgot out. A man in a brand-new, very stiff, perfectly clean Red Sox cap stayed behind the wheel, while two women in impractical shoes and a man with a fancy camera that would have made Emily's father
drool
walked over.
adorable
” expressions they often had on their facesâgot out. A man in a brand-new, very stiff, perfectly clean Red Sox cap stayed behind the wheel, while two women in impractical shoes and a man with a fancy camera that would have made Emily's father
drool
walked over.
“Look at that,” one of the women said to the other. “That is
so
Maine.”
so
Maine.”
Bobby raised his eyebrows at Emily, who shrugged a “yeah, whatever, just humor them” at him.
“Can I take your picture?” the man with the camera asked.
Emily and Bobby posed politely, and even Zack's
posture seemed to improve at once. The man walked back and forth to select the best angle and then snapped off a rapid series of photos. Emily managed not to cringe at the careless way he was swinging the camera and super-fancy lens around, not even
supporting
it properly, or wearing the strap around his neck. Had her father witnessed the scene, he might have fainted dead away.
posture seemed to improve at once. The man walked back and forth to select the best angle and then snapped off a rapid series of photos. Emily managed not to cringe at the careless way he was swinging the camera and super-fancy lens around, not even
supporting
it properly, or wearing the strap around his neck. Had her father witnessed the scene, he might have fainted dead away.
It went without saying that everyone in Maineânot just Cyrilâcomplained year-round about tourists, even though Emily's mother sometimes pointed out at town council meetings and other gatherings that they
did
contribute a lot to the state's economy. Most locals would say something like, “Well, Joanne, you're not a native; you just don't understand.” Her parents had lived in Maine for almost twenty years now, but a lot of people still thought of them as being newcomers. Since her father had a little bit of a New York accent, he was
always
described by people as being “from away.”
did
contribute a lot to the state's economy. Most locals would say something like, “Well, Joanne, you're not a native; you just don't understand.” Her parents had lived in Maine for almost twenty years now, but a lot of people still thought of them as being newcomers. Since her father had a little bit of a New York accent, he was
always
described by people as being “from away.”
“Such a beautiful day,” one of the women said. She was wearing a big straw hat with flowers and a striped ribbon on it, while the other woman had settled for oversized yellow sunglasses.
“A-yuh,” Bobby said, with such a perfect accent that Emily had to bite her lip not to crack up.
Tourists were pretty sure that people in Maine always said “A-yuh” instead of “Yes.”
Tourists were pretty sure that people in Maine always said “A-yuh” instead of “Yes.”
“We're trying to find Crowley's Sea Shack,” the woman in the hat said. “We asked the man at the general store, but he didn't seem to know where it was.”
That meant that Cyril must be in an unusually good mood. When he was cranky, he liked to send tourists miles
away
from things. Anyway, Crowley's was a famous local restaurant, which specialized in lobster and fried clams served on paper plates.
away
from things. Anyway, Crowley's was a famous local restaurant, which specialized in lobster and fried clams served on paper plates.
“Cawn't git there from he-ah,” Bobby said.
This time, Emily had to fight even harder not to laugh, since he'd just used about four different accentsâBoston, Southern, Maine, and a dash of Harvardâin a single sentence.
“Hmmm.” The woman in the sunglasses frowned. “I'll go ask my husband to check the GPS.”
“There's some folks, near the end a this he-ah road, sell the best lobsters Down East,” Bobby said, just as helpful as can be. “Think they go by the name of Percival, and I reckon they might be able to steer you right.”
Emily grinned, since he was talking about his parents. Bobby's father sold most of his haul commercially, but he and Mrs. Percival also ran a small
lobster pound of their own for locals, to make extra money.
lobster pound of their own for locals, to make extra money.
“Thank you,” the other woman said, and then smiled at Emily. “Are you enjoying your time out of the city? It's so peaceful up here.”
Bobby looked baffled, but it wasn't the first time people had jumped to incorrect conclusions about herâand it wouldn't be the last.
Unfortunately.
And it never got any less upsetting, even when the person was well-meaning. Maybe even
especially
when the person was well-meaning.
especially
when the person was well-meaning.
It wasn't going to help to lose her temper, so Emily just nodded. “I know. The Fresh Air Fund has been
so good
to me.”
so good
to me.”
Now, Bobby looked even more confused.
But the woman was nodding, too. “Yes, it's a wonderful program.” Then, she reached out to pat Zack, who stiffened and leaned away from her. The woman hesitated, then withdrew her hand. “What a cute dog. How did he get injured?”
“Gang warfare” was probably the answer she wanted to hear. “He got caught in the cross-fire,” Emily said, very politely. “It was awful.”
“Yes, it must have been,” the woman said, her
expression full of sympathy. “What a blessing that he's okay.”
expression full of sympathy. “What a blessing that he's okay.”
“Rachel, Gordon thinks he knows the directions now,” the other woman called over.
“Okay, good.” The woman in the hat smiled at them. “Enjoy the rest of your summer!”
Once the tourists were gone, Emily folded her arms tightly and took a couple of deep breaths.
Zack made an anxious little sound, and she unfolded her arms long enough to pat him on the head. He wagged his tail, in a relieved sort of way, but still seemed to be uneasy.
“What was
that
all about?” Bobby asked.
that
all about?” Bobby asked.
For a really smart kid, a fair amount of stuff went right over Bobby's head. Or maybe he just had a different kind of radar entirely. She wasn't sure if she'd been born with it, or learned it by experienceâor both, but she definitely had radar. Plenty of it. “I'm black,” Emily said.
Bobby shrugged. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
“So, if I'm in Maine,” Emily said, “that must mean that some nice country family took me in for the summer. You know, to get me out of my deprived, inner-city neighborhood.”
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