Finding Home (5 page)

The dog continued to inch, his eyes leaving Natalie’s only brieß y for quick checks around to make sure it wasn’t about to be pounced on from another direction. When it got close enough to touch the tips of her Þ ngers with its nose, it stopped.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, wanting desperately to stand up and ease the prickling caused by the lack of circulation to her feet, but wanting more for the dog to trust her enough to relax.

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GEORGIA BEERS

“It’s okay. Are you hungry? I bet Mrs. Valenti’s got something inside for you. Want to ask? Hmm?”

The dog cocked his head at her and she was sure she could see it debating whether or not she could be trusted. Before she could say anything else, a warm, pink tongue licked her Þ ngertips tentatively.

“Yeah, you taste that? Cinnamon and ß our and stuff? You want some more? I bet I can Þ nd you a roll or something. You look like you haven’t eaten in a while. I might even have some chicken up in my apartment. What do you say? Hungry?”

Still wary, the dog suddenly seemed more exhausted than anything else as it crept slightly closer to her, close enough to allow her to dig her Þ ngers into the thick fur around its neck and scratch it. Natalie wondered how long it had been a stray.

It looked like a purebred to her and she found it hard to believe it wasn’t simply lost. But there was no collar or identifying tags under her Þ ngers, and the condition of the dog’s coat and build told her it had been a while since it had been inside. The idea of somebody abandoning a helpless animal and leaving it to fend for itself made her blood boil.

A quick bend of her neck and glance underneath the animal told her it was a male. “Okay, handsome,” she said to him soothingly as she continued to stroke his fur. “You’re all right.

I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

The dog seemed to be relaxing by the second, she was relieved to notice, and he inched closer to her until he curled his body between her bent knees so she could scratch more of him.

She laughed at this.

“Oh, sure. Pegged me as a sucker already, did you? You’re a pretty smart guy.”

The sound of the bakery door made him stiffen and Natalie quickly soothed him with her voice as she turned to see Mrs.

Valenti standing in the doorway, hands on her hips.

“Natalie, is cold. You catch your death,” she said.

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FINDING HOME

“I know. I know. But…” Natalie stood so that Mrs. Valenti could see the dog.

“Ohhh…
turchino
,” she said, her voice almost reverent as she stared.

“
Turchino
?” Natalie frowned and looked down at the dog, who glanced up at her with the unmistakable question on his face of whether or not he could trust the older woman. “They’re not turquoise, they’re blue.” She took a step toward the building and gently called for him to follow, which he did, with trepidation.

“It’s okay, buddy. She’s a nice lady.”

“You say blue. I say
turchino
,” Mrs. Valenti said, using her apron to wipe her hands.

“Well, maybe you need new glasses,” Natalie teased her.

She and the dog stopped at the door.

“He too skinny.”

“He was rooting around the Dumpster.”

“He looks hungry.”

“I thought so, too.”

“Come.” She gestured for them to follow her inside. “I have idea.”

v

Half an hour later, the dog was stretched out on the ß oor in the break room, gnawing happily on the beef bone Mrs. Valenti had used to ß avor her vegetable beef soup the day before. Natalie watched him as she sipped a cup of coffee, reaching down occasionally to stroke his head. He had relaxed considerably.

“It’s a good thing you use this kitchen to make your own stuff here for home,” she said to Mrs. Valenti. “I don’t know if he would have been all that fond of a cannoli. I think he’s happy now.”

“He need bath.”

Wrinkling her nose in agreement, Natalie nodded. “Yeah,

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GEORGIA BEERS

that Dumpster smell sort of clings, doesn’t it? I’ll take him up to my place when he’s done and see if I can clean him up a bit. We shouldn’t have him in the kitchen anyway.” It would be just their luck to have a surprise inspection happen when a Þ lthy stray dog was lounging on the ß oor in the back room of the shop.

“What you going to do about him?”

“I don’t know.” Resting her chin on her folded hands, she watched him chew, marveled at the way he used his white paws to hold the bone still so he could get to the good parts. “He’s got no collar, no tags. He’s obviously been on his own for quite a while. Makes me think some jerk gave up on him or got tired of taking care of him or something.”

Mrs. Valenti grunted in concurrence as she swept the ß oor around the table. “He good dog.”

“He is, isn’t he?”

Since they’d come inside, the dog hadn’t barked, hadn’t messed or lifted his leg, hadn’t jumped up on anything or anyone.

He’d slurped down an entire bowl of water and when Natalie showed him the beef bone, he sat handsome and straight, waiting patiently for her to hand it over. He was as well behaved as he could possibly be, despite the fact that he glanced toward the door at regular intervals, as if expecting somebody to arrive looking for him.

Natalie felt a strange sort of kinship to the animal, not that she’d mention such a thing out loud because she knew it sounded hokey. But there was something about him. His icy blue eyes were kind and he hadn’t exhibited even an inkling of an aggressive cell in his body. If anything, he projected hesitancy and loneliness, and despite all her pronouncements of how happy she was, Natalie could relate to both.

“We’re kindred spirits, aren’t we, buddy?” she whispered to him. He looked up at her and smacked his lips, making her grin.

v

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FINDING HOME

“Oh, my God, I think I’m in love.” Andrea sat lounging on Natalie’s futon in the small living area of the apartment above Valenti’s. The dog was lying along her leg, his head resting on her torso in a pose that was both relaxed and protective. Andrea stroked her hand along his soft and silky fur.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Natalie squinted at the monitor of her laptop, editing text on the ß yer she was making. The ginger-peach candle that glowed softly next to her on the marred desk Þ lled the room with a warm, cozy fragrance.

“I think you should just keep him.”

“Much as I’d like to, I can’t do that.” Natalie grimaced because keeping the dog, which she had affectionately begun calling Chino in honor of Mrs. Valenti’s color perceptions, was exactly what she wanted to do. He was sweet and lovable and she instantly enjoyed having him around. She suddenly felt needed.

Guilt hung over her like a cloud because she had yet to call any of the local animal shelters to see if he’d been reported missing, even though she knew she should. But when she felt the guilt was about to get the better of her, she thought about when she found Chino a few days earlier and how skinny and hungry and dirty he’d been, how frightened and hesitant he’d been to have anything to do with a human being. He was obviously neglected, had been on his own for a while, and with no collar or tags, it wasn’t likely that his owner was all that concerned about recovering him. Still, she felt she had to do
something
.

“What happened here?” Andrea ran gentle Þ ngertips over Chino’s back leg where a strip of gauze had been wrapped lovingly around it.

“When I got him in the tub, I noticed that. It’s a cut or a bite of some kind. I wonder if he got into a Þ ght or something.”

“Did you call a vet?”

“Not yet. It wasn’t that deep, just needed cleaning.” She grimaced. “And vets are expensive.”

“Mmm.” Continuing her petting, Andrea remarked, “I can’t get over how soft he is.”

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GEORGIA BEERS

“Isn’t he? Once I bathed him and brushed all the snarls out of his coat, he just glowed.” She watched as Andrea stroked him and Chino burrowed closer to her. “He likes you.”

“Of course he does.”

Grinning at the unspoken “duh” in Andrea’s tone, she continued to work as Andrea hummed softly along with the Diana Krall CD emanating from the small stereo on the bookshelf.

Finally Þ nishing with an exaggerated ß ourish, Natalie announced,

“There. Done. What do you think?”

“Can’t see it.” Andrea grunted and pretended to crane her neck, but made no real move to get up and look.

“You’re such a lazy ass.” Natalie sighed and carried the laptop over to the futon where she knelt down next to it.

“I’m not lazy. Look at this.” Andrea gestured to Chino, who had stretched his back legs out behind him and was sleeping comfortably against her. “Would you move if you were me?”

“No, probably not.” Natalie stroked the dog’s back as she held the laptop for Andrea to see.

The ß yer was simple but complete. The phrase “dog found”

was printed at the top in big, black capital letters across the top.

Beneath it was a vague description of Chino, along with the general vicinity where Natalie had discovered him. She purposely left off such pertinent information as his eye color and small size.

“Where the hell is his picture?” Andrea asked. “Did I lug my digital camera over here for nothing?”

“Yep. Sorry about that. I decided not to include a picture. If his owner wants to claim him, they should be able to describe him to me well enough to prove to me that he’s theirs, you know?”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“It does.” Natalie stood back up and popped her memory stick into the USB port to copy the ß yer over to it. “Can you print ten or Þ fteen of these off for me tomorrow? Then I’ll post them around the area, and wait and see what happens.”

“I hope it doesn’t work,” Andrea said, bending awkwardly so she could place a kiss on Chino’s furry head. His eyes opened

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FINDING HOME

just enough to take a quick glance around the room, then closed again as he sighed with great contentment. “I hope nobody claims him and you get to keep him.”

Me, too, Andrea. Me, too.
Natalie was too worried about what kind of person that made her to say it out loud.

• 45 •

• 46 •

FINDING HOME

CHAPTER FIVE

How could this have happened?

Sarah sat blinking in disbelief at her family, trying unsuccessfully to absorb and process what they’d told her.

How is it even possible?

Her mother was crying. She had been for a while. Her father looked worried and had his arm protectively around her mother’s shoulders. Ricky looked sheepish. More than that, he looked guilty. As well he should. Sarah turned to glare at him and felt the tiniest sliver of satisfaction when he ß inched, as if her gaze was physically sharp.

“You just…lost him? You
lost
him?”

Ricky swallowed. “I think so.”

“You
think
so?”

“I came back here and he was just…gone.” Her brother’s eyes shifted, darted around the room, looked anywhere but at her deadly stare.

“He was just gone.” Sarah almost curled her upper lip in a snarl.

“I don’t know how he got out.”

“No idea?”

“No.”

“Uh-huh. And did you bother to look for him?”

Her father cut in, obviously seeing the violent path the conversation might possibly be taking. “We all did. Believe me,

• 47 •

GEORGIA BEERS

honey, we all did.” Her mother stiß ed a small sob and her father tightened his hold on her. “We’ve searched high and low for weeks. We’ve called all the animal shelters half a dozen times.

We’ve driven around and around every single night. We just…”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “We haven’t found a sign of him.

He’s just gone. We’re so sorry, baby.”

“I can’t believe this.” Sarah’s anger left her in a whoosh as she absorbed the news that her dog had run away—or been stolen—over a month ago and not only was he nowhere to be found, but nobody had bothered to tell her. Her eyes Þ lled with tears. “I wish you would have called me.”

“So you could do what?” Her father’s voice was gentle, but factual, and she knew he was right. What could she have done?

Her job didn’t allow her the time to ß y home for anything less than a family emergency, and her missing dog would not have been considered such by the higher-ups at her company. So she would have been Þ lled with worry, which would have taken her focus off her job and kept her from thinking of anything else. No, her father had been right not to call her. Had she been here, she wouldn’t have done anything any differently than her family did and she most likely would have gotten the same results.

“I can’t believe this,” she said again, feeling suddenly deß ated and completely, utterly helpless.

“Honey,” her mother said, her voice cracking, “I am so, so sorry. I know you trusted us and we let you down and I don’t know how we can ever apologize enough for that.” The tremendous burden of guilt that sat on her looked so heavy, it would be obvious from across the street, and Sarah felt bad for being so angry. She knew her mother well and was certain this had been eating her alive since it happened and would continue to do so for a long time to come. She also knew her parents would never do anything to purposely hurt her, nor would Ricky, despite his lack of maturity or responsibility. It was evident that this had been some kind of ß uke accident and her family had done

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FINDING HOME

everything in their power to repair it. Their efforts simply hadn’t been enough.

Those facts didn’t keep her heart from aching, though.

“I’ve got to get home. Unpack. Do laundry.” She rubbed at her forehead. “I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah.” Her mother’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I know, Mom. I know.”

Once back in her townhouse, Sarah felt like every ounce of energy had drained out of her and she ß opped onto her leather couch, staring off into space. She really needed to get up and open a few windows to air the place out, but she just couldn’t manage to summon the energy. Instead, she just sat.