The idea both offended my sense of feminism and at the same time filled me with a surge of relief. Still, I hesitated.
“Come on now.” Nancy patted my arm again. “You aren’t alone. Got folks around here to help you. Don’t push their good intentions away.”
How much had Ida told her about my life? She walked away without waiting for me to respond, so I hurried along after her. We crossed the yard and up the steps to Ryan’s house.
Or maybe it was Nancy’s house.
“Ryan lives with you?”
She opened the front door to the cheery Queen Anne and gestured me inside. “No. I live with him. But only during my treatments. He insists.”
The foyer contained a bench with coat rack, blue papered walls, and a square iron-and-glass light hanging from the ceiling. Wood floors and wooden trim complete with stained pocket doors complemented the historic design. Ryan had obviously taken care of this place.
“Treatments?”
Nancy led me past a masculine living room with modern furniture to a bright and airy kitchen in the back. Full windows revealed a small but manicured fenced-in yard out back. The kitchen wasn’t as updated as Ida’s, but he’d kept it clean and made it look homey.
“Breast cancer, dear. But I’ll beat it.” Nancy gestured toward a breakfast bar as if she’d told me today’s weather forecast rather than dropping the cancer bomb. Thoughts of Ida tightened my chest. Would Ryan lose Nancy, too?
“The treatments make me tired,” Nancy continued in her matter-of-fact tone. “Ryan likes to dote on me when I have to take them. Insists I stay here with him.” She grinned. “I think he just wants to keep an eye on me.” She winked. “But I don’t mind the attention. He’s a good boy, wanting to take care of his old mom.”
Would any of the men I’d ever dated do something like that? I pushed the thought aside. I wasn’t dating Ryan, nor did I plan to. Even if he vanquished house-demolishing trees and took care of his sick mom like some kind of knight in shining armor.
She plucked an oven mitt from a drawer and pulled delicious-smelling rolls out of the oven. I shoved a stool away from the bar and placed my hands on the gray granite. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Nancy opened a container of icing and smeared it over the hot rolls. “Don’t be, dear. It’s in God’s hands.”
I had to admire her faith. At least her outlook seemed to bring her a measure of peace.
Nancy pulled down two white ceramic mugs and poured coffee from a pot on the counter. “Cream and sugar?”
“Both, please.” I accepted the cup while she pulled a bottle of creamer from the fridge. “So, where do you live when you’re not here?”
“About ten minutes out from town. Not far, but in the middle of the woods.”
I could see why Ryan didn’t want his mother alone in the woods at night. I stirred a spoonful of sugar into my coffee and watched the dark liquid swirl.
“Don’t waste energy worrying,” Nancy said. “They’ll get that tree cut up in no time. Plenty of folks will be glad to haul it away for firewood.”
One problem solved. I watched Nancy bustle around the kitchen. Something about her reminded me of Ida, and my heart clenched. I gripped the hot cup. “But what do I do about the big hole in the side of the house? Talk about a security problem.” Someone had broken into my house in the eighth grade after I’d locked all the doors. A missing wall invited trouble.
Nancy chuckled. “Get a dog.”
Hadn’t I thought the same thing? Must have been some kind of sign. I couldn’t stand the thought of staying alone in a big house with no way to lock out intruders. A dog would alert me if anyone tried to sneak into the hole in the house in the middle of the night. Or through the windows, since I’d have to leave them open or suffocate. “Where do I find one?”
Nancy placed a plate with a steaming roll in front of me and stood on the other side of the counter with her own. “I was kidding. You’ll be fine. Maryville is safe.”
Safe or not, it still made me uncomfortable. And I already had far too many things making me uncomfortable. Not being able to sleep at night wouldn’t help. “I think a dog is a good idea. At least while I’m here. People foster dogs, right? Keep them for a bit until the shelter finds them a permanent home? Could be a win-win.” And maybe having a dog in the house would keep me from feeling so lonely.
I kept that part to myself.
Nancy assessed me with knowing eyes. Had she read my thoughts? “You looking for a puppy?”
I shook my head. “Too much work.” And a puppy wouldn’t protect me from prowlers. “I want something that will bark if anyone tries to come in the house.”
At least it would give me enough warning to call the cops.
“And will that help you stop worrying?” Nancy raised graying eyebrows and blew on her coffee.
“Sure.” I shrugged. “I mean, it can’t hurt, right?”
I had no money for groceries, no way to fix Ida’s house, and no experience owning a dog. But at least I’d be safe.
What was the worst that could happen?
12
Two of a Kind
I’d become the Grinch. In the scene where he places his hands over his ears and complains about all the noise, noise, noise.
After a long call with Mira Ann, in which I’d finally gained a promise she’d look into the insurance claim for me, and nearly a full day of listening to chain saws, I needed to get out of the house. I made it to the animal shelter in Forest Hill an hour before closing. The rows of pens filled with barking dogs made me question the choice. This noise wasn’t any better than the chain saws.
“Take a look.” A robust lady with a green apron and hair pulled into a ponytail tight enough to create an artificial facelift gestured at the row of caged dogs.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Ida didn’t have a fence, and a dog would need to be walked and trained. Plus it would slobber everywhere.
The woman left me alone outside with the discarded canines. I checked the big guy in the first cage. Black fur and beady eyes. He growled at me.
I moved on.
The next cage held a stubby-legged fellow with floppy ears. He barked at me too. I walked to the end of the line, none of the yapping creatures drawing my eye. Hole in the wall or not, this was a stupid idea.
Had I really let loneliness drive me to looking for a pound mutt?
I could sleep with a kitchen knife for protection. I didn’t need a dog. Still, the ache in me longed for something to love unconditionally, something that wouldn’t judge my every move. But who was I kidding? A dog was too much work.
Back inside the animal shelter, I closed the door on the boisterous dogs and shook my head to clear it. The woman who worked there had disappeared.
I made my way down the hallway. A large window in the wall gave me pause, and I looked into a room filled with an entire wall of metal cages filled with cats.
Hmm.
Cats used a litter box. They didn’t need training. Of course, they didn’t guard anything either. But if I were being real, my loneliness had driven me to furry companionship more than the need for a guard dog. My hating to be alone could be a problem.