Underdog (4 page)
Well, that made me wonder. It's probably possible that there are people in the world who don't like lasagna or who don't like chocolate. But both? I doubt it. Jenny didn't look thin enough to be anorexic, and though I'd invited her over to cheer her up over Ziggy's death, she didn't seem terribly depressed.
I've never been one for finesse when bluntness will work just as well. It's a family trait.
“Not hungry?” I asked.
“Hmm?” Jenny looked up. She finally had a piece of cake in her mouth and was chewing slowly. She seemed to be enjoying it.
“You've hardly eaten a thing. I know I'm not the greatest cook. . .”
“No, the food's wonderful. You must have really worked hard. I'm sorry I haven't done it more justice. It's just that I haven't been feeling all that well lately. I guess I caught some sort of bug, but it's been hanging on for a while and I can't seem to shake it.”
“Like the flu?”
“Something like that. It comes and goes, headaches, nausea, cramps.”
I'd heard all those symptoms before. Lately everyone on Fairfield County seemed to be coming down with them. “You should have a Lyme test. Even if you haven't seen a tick or a rash. You'd be amazed how many of the people I work with have come down with Lyme Disease this year. Especially working with dogs like you do, there's probably a pretty good chance you've been exposed.”
“I know. I've been thinking the same thing. I'm going to get it checked out. Just as soon as I have some spare time.”
“Spare time? What's that?”
We laughed together, and I was pleased to see her finish the rest of her cake. Later, she even let me wrap up an extra large piece to take home. I knew that Rick was waiting for her, so we made it an early evening. Davey fell asleep on the couch in front of the TV around eight-thirty and she and I took him up and tucked him in. Jenny left a few minutes later.
The book she'd brought was still sitting on the table in the front hall. “Thanks again,” I said, picking it up.
“No problem.” Jenny lingered on the step. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Sure, you too. I'll see you at class on Thursday, right?”
“Not this week, I'll be away. But don't worry, Angie will be filling in for me and I'm sure she'll do fine. Thanks for dinner. It was great.”
“Anytime,” I said, and meant it. Next time I'd know better than to ask her for a Friday night though; and to make sure there weren't any ruffled feathers, I'd invite Rick along, and maybe even Angie, too.
Davey and I spent most of the next week going to school and raking leaves. The yard isn't that big and the job wouldn't have taken so long except that every time I got a decent-sized pile together, Davey and Faith dove in. They were so cute together that I had to go into the house and get the camera. Now I'd have to be sure that Aunt Peg never saw the pictures of her show puppy with leaves intertwined through that all important coat of hair.
Wednesday afternoon, we finally bagged the last of what was on the ground. While Davey was taking a bath, I brushed through Faith's coat with a pin brush, then took down her top-knot which is the hair on the top of her head. If a Poodle is going to be shown, that hair is never cut. Eventually it will grow nearly a foot long. To keep it out of the dog's face, the hair is gathered into a series of small ponytails which are held in place with tiny colored rubber bands. I cut loose the old bands, brushed through the hair, then reset it with new ones. I was just finishing when the phone rang.
It was Aunt Peg. “This is so awful,” she said.
“What is?”
“I was just talking to Rick Maguire.”
As I waited for her to continue, I slipped Faith a piece of cheese as a reward for being good, then hopped her down off the portable grooming table I'd set up in the kitchen.
“What?” I asked again when a moment passed and she still hadn't said a word.
“I just can't believe it.” Peg's voice was oddly flat. “Rick was so upset I could barely understand what he was saying. Melanie, Jenny Maguire is dead.”
Four
She couldn't be dead, I thought. I just saw her. She was much too young, much too vibrant, to be dead.
“Melanie, are you there?”
“I'm here.” All at once I felt drained. I leaned back against the counter and let it support my weight.
Years earlier, when I'd heard the news about my parents' deaths, how their car had run off a lonely stretch of road and plunged over an embankment, I'd wanted to scream out loud as if noise alone could negate the awful truth. But this time grief had a different effect on me. I could barely summon the energy to make a sound.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I'm not sure. Rick was hardly coherent. He said Jenny collapsed last night right after dinner. He and Angie thought she'd fainted. They lifted her up on the couch, then Rick realized she wasn't breathing. They called for an ambulance but by the time they got her to the hospital, it was too late.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling pain as the air left my body. There was a constriction in my chest I couldn't seem to breathe around. “She told me last week that she hadn't been feeling well. I thought maybe she had Lyme Disease.”
Aunt Peg snorted softly. “People sometimes die from Lyme Disease, but not suddenly like that. It had to have been something else. What did she say was the matter with her?”
I thought back, trying to remember. “Something like the flu, except it wouldn't go away. She wasn't eating much, that's how it came up, and she said she'd been having cramps.”
“They'll do an autopsy. They'll have to. People can't just up and die for no reason. That girl was a child.”
Not quite, but I knew what she meant. “Rick must be devastated. The two of them seemed so close.”
“They were always together,” said Aunt Peg. “Even at the shows where things get hectic and the handlers with big strings have to be everywhere at once, you almost never saw one of them without the other.”
“I wonder what he'll do now.”
“Carry on, I'd imagine. What choice does he have?”
Davey called from the bathtub, and I went to dry him off and bundle him into his pajamas. He was warm and clean and filled with excitement about the field trip his class was taking the next day to the fire station. I hugged him close and let him chatter on.
He didn't notice how quiet I was, so I didn't have to explain. And that was good. I couldn't break the news to Davey just then. I couldn't even understand it myself.
The next morning when I had a break, I stopped by the office and called Rick and Jenny's kennel. A kennel girl picked up, and I was able to find out that a wake would be held on Friday evening in Ridgefield. I called Aunt Peg and gave her the news and we made arrangements to go together.
That's when it began to sink in that Jenny was really gone. I wished I'd had the chance to get to know her better. Even so, her death left me feeling all hollow inside. She'd been so young. She should have had so many things still ahead of her. How could she have already run out of time?
On my way to my next class, I stopped by Davey's kindergarten classroom. There was a glass panel in the door and I was able to look in without disturbing anyone. Davey was at the block station, constructing a skyscraper and laughing with two of his friends.
I went back to work feeling a little better.
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My only sibling is a brother named Frank, who lives in Cos Cob. He's four years younger than me and there are times when the age difference seems enormous. Most little girls grow out of the idea that their brother is one of the most annoying people they've ever met, but I never have. Frank can be irresponsible, opportunistic, and thoroughly charming; often all at the same time.
One thing I will say for Frank though, is that he loves his nephew dearly. Over the years, he has stepped in to provide Davey with a stable male influence in his life, and for that I will always be grateful. He also spoils Davey shamelessly. I'm less appreciative of that, but I figure it comes with the territory. Frank has always been a bit of a hedonist.
One Saturday a month, he comes and collects Davey for what the two of them have come to call “boys' day out.” Their adventures have included everything from roller blading in Binney Park to a trip to the Maritime Center in Norwalk. So far he's always brought Davey back in one piece and since they both seem to enjoy having secrets that I'm not privy to, I try not to ask too many questions.
Frank had called early in the week, hinting around about tickets to a Yale football game for that Saturday. Needless to say, I was not invited. After talking to Aunt Peg, I checked with Frank. His love life must not be much more exciting than mine because he said he'd be happy to have Davey sleep over on Friday night. All that remained after that was to call the funeral home and get directions.
Most of the towns in lower Fairfield County serve as bedroom communities for New York City commuters and they look it. There's an urban sophistication to the downtown areas which owes much to the rapid growth of the eighties and the advent of the ubiquitous chain store. A dozen miles north, the town of Ridgefield has resisted such changes. With its quaint shops and clapboard buildings, it still maintains much of the character and flavor of a small New England village.
The Falconi Brothers Funeral Home was a white brick, two-story edifice on the outskirts of town. It was early evening when we arrived but the sun had already set. Aunt Peg was driving, which meant that I spent much of the trip holding my breath. Her station wagon is new this year, but already it's showing signs of strain. Going sixty miles an hour on curving back country roads will do that to a car.
We were met at the door to the funeral home by a somber-looking man in a black suit, one of the Falconi brothers, no doubt. He directed us to the proper room whose door was the only one leading off from the wide center hall that was open.
The room was large and already crowded, but the first thing I saw when I entered was the casket. It was closed, for which I was grateful. I've never had any desire to look at dead people and I've never figured out why anyone would. I wanted to remember Jenny as she'd been, not lying pale and still in a satin-lined box.
Rick was standing near the front of the room. Angie was at his side. They were talking to two men who looked familiar in a vague sort of way.
“Sean Summers and his partner, Doug Henry,” Aunt Peg whispered. “They handle terriers. You've probably seen them in the group ring.”
Now that she mentioned it I realized that nearly all the faces in the assembled group were those I had seen at dog shows. Some were exhibitors; others handlers. A few were judges.
“I heard that the funeral tomorrow is private,” Aunt Peg continued in a low tone. “It's just as well. The rest of the weekend nearly everybody here will be at work.”
“There's certainly a crowd tonight.”
“There would be. Rick and Jenny are popular, but Roger and Lavinia Peterson lived in the area back when they were handling. Lots of old friends would come to pay their respects.”
I looked around the room, scanning some of the older faces. “Speaking of Jenny's parents, which ones are they?”
“I don't see them. They live down in Louisiana now. Maybe they're on their way.”
Jenny had died Tuesday night, I thought. How long did it take to get on a plane and fly up?
Slowly we worked our way to the front of the room. Of course we had to pay our condolences, but I was dreading the moment we'd get there. I'm terrible in situations like this; I never know what to say. One look at Aunt Peg and I knew she wasn't going to be much help. When we reached Rick and Angie, she was staring off in another direction entirely.
Rick held out his hand and I took it in both of mine. There were shadows beneath his eyes and his Adam's apple bobbed prominently in his throat, but he seemed to be holding up pretty well. It was Angie, beside him, who looked like she was on the verge of breaking down. Her make-up was smeared as if she'd been crying and she held a wad of crumpled tissue in one hand.
“Thank you for coming,” said Rick, and Angie nodded silently.
I wanted to kick Aunt Peg to get her attention. What could she possibly have been looking at? “I was so sorry to hear about Jenny. She was a really wonderful person.”
Angie sagged against Rick's side and he reached out as I'd seen him do so often with Jenny and placed a comforting arm over her shoulder. I'd been holding my emotions in check pretty well, but that simple gesture was enough to bring me to the verge of tears.
“Angel?” he whispered. “Are you all right?”
Her lower lip trembled. Wordlessly, she shook her head.
“Do you want to sit down?” I asked. There were chairs all around, although none up here near the casket.
Ignoring my question, Angie looked up at Rick. “I want to get out of here,” she said. Her voice was low and choked with emotion.
“I know this is hard, Angel, but we can't leaveâ”
“I won't stay here. You can't make me.”
She sounded like a child and I realized I'd always thought of her that way. She was only a few years younger than her sister but while Jenny had always seemed mature for her age, Angie had retained the youthful demeanor of a teenager. Right now there was enough of the lost waif about her to bring out my maternal instincts.
“Come with me to the ladies' room,” I said. “You can splash some water on your face and sit down for a few minutes. It'll make you feel better.”
The vague look Angie gave me made me wonder whether she even knew who I was, but obediently she disengaged herself from Rick and prepared to follow me from the room. Rick gave me a grateful glance and turned to the next person waiting for his attentionâAunt Peg, who'd finally managed to get her mind back on the business at hand.
People parted for us as we made our way out. Angie walked slowly like an invalid. I took her hand in mine and she didn't protest. Her fingers were cool and limp.
One of the doors in the hall was marked “Rest Rooms” and I guided Angie there. There was a small sitting area as well as a bathroom. She sank down on an ornate brocade love seat and covered her face with her hands. Over by the counter I found a stack of paper cups and poured her some cold water. She drank only a sip, then put the cup aside.
The couch was hard and scratchy when I sat down beside her. Clearly it hadn't been designed for lingering. Though the room was warm, she felt cold, and I found myself rubbing her back.
“It isn't fair,” Angie sniffled.
There was a full box of tissues on the counter. I got up and brought it over. “No, it isn't.”
“I don't want to be here. I don't want to think about her lying there in that box. I knew she was unhappy but. . .”
I stopped where I stood. “But what?”
“I don't know. . .” Angie shook her head forlornly and her ponytail swung from side to side. “I just never thought she'd go this far.”
My legs felt heavy, like lead. I sank down on the couch. “Angie, what are you talking about?”
She looked up as though the question surprised her. Instead of answering, she took a tissue from the box and blew her nose loudly. When it became clear she wasn't going to answer my first question, I tried something a little easier.
“What was Jenny unhappy about?”
The girl's slender shoulders rose and fell. “Just stuff, you know. . .”
No, I didn't know, and stuff could mean anything. Or nothing at all. “You mean like what happened to Ziggy?”
“Yeah, that too. My sister really loved that dog.”
“Angie,” I said softly. “How did Jenny die?”
She turned to look in my direction, but rather than focusing her eyes seemed to stare right through me. “She just stood up and fell over. And then she was dead.”
“Butâ”
Abruptly Angie stood. “I've got to get back, or Rick will come looking for me. He looks after everybody, you know?”
She tossed the wad of tissue in the wastebasket and walked out. The door had swung shut behind her before I even thought to move. What
had
Jenny died of? Aunt Peg had mentioned she'd thought there'd be an autopsy, but I'd forgotten to follow up. Obviously a cause of death had been established, otherwise they couldn't bury the body. But what was it?
had
Jenny died of? Aunt Peg had mentioned she'd thought there'd be an autopsy, but I'd forgotten to follow up. Obviously a cause of death had been established, otherwise they couldn't bury the body. But what was it?
I found Aunt Peg back in the room where I'd left her. Angie had returned and was once again standing at Rick's side. She looked somewhat better although still not strong enough for the task at hand. Aunt Peg was over to one side, talking to Crawford Langley, a long-time Poodle handler who lived in Bedford.
Crawford was one of the first people I'd met in Poodles after Aunt Peg. According to what she'd told me he'd been the top Poodle handler on the East Coast for many years. He'd had the best clients, the best dogs, the best buzz. In his fifties now, he was gradually being nudged aside by a new generation of up and comers, but fighting every inch of the way to maintain his advantage.
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