CHAPTER 19 - Molly

CHAPTER 19MollyISTAYED UP HALF THE NIGHT WATCHING THE CAMERA FEEDS. I DIDN’T see anything interesting, but I couldn’t seem to look away. The man didn’t come back, from what I saw, so that was a relief. Hopefully, whatever he was looking for, he found or realized it wasn’t there.I pull up in front of the animal shelter on the outskirts of Graybridge. When Jay and I met, he had a chocolate lab named Winston. After we’d been dating for six months, I went with Jay to have Winston put down. He was thirteen, suffering from cancer. We cried like babies all the way home. Jay and I had been making a regular monthly donation to the shelter and talking about getting another dog, something else we’ll never do together.I never had a dog of my own. When I was growing up, my mother said we couldn’t have one because she was allergic, but I eventually figured out that wasn’t true. She just didn’t want the trouble of caring for an animal. Everything was well ordered in our house. Everything in its place. You couldn’t have a puppy running amok.That’s one reason I liked Sundays so much when I was little. We always went out to visit my Grandpa Wright. He was a widower who lived on a little farm in the middle of nowhere. He had two fat beagles named Sparky and Thumper, and I loved those dogs. My parents never wanted to stay long, and my mother always put me straight in the bathtub when we got home.I take a deep breath and head inside the shelter. The woman at the desk is middle-aged, wears faded jeans and a sweatshirt decorated with black pawprints. Her hair is pulled back in a graying ponytail, and she wears no makeup on her moon-like face.“I’d like to adopt a dog,” I say.“Okay.” She points to a clipboard full of papers. “Fill out the forms, please.” She hands me a pen with a big plastic flower taped to it. “What type of dog are you interested in?”“Not a puppy.” I’m too worn out to train one at this point. “One that’s a couple years old maybe. Already housebroken.”“Okay.” She stands and puts her hand on her ample hip.“A bigger dog too. One that has an intimidating bark would be great.”“We don’t adopt out guard dogs,” she says, narrowing her eyes.I look up from the forms. “Oh, no. I’m looking for a pet. He or she will get lots of love. Live in the house. I’m a good pet owner.”“Uh huh.” She walks around the desk and looks over my shoulder as I flip to the next page. “You can finish those in a minute. Why don’t you come on back? See if any of them is a good match.” She props open the door with her hip. Barks and yips stream out.I take a step back. “No. Why don’t you pick one and bring it out here?”She gives me another scowl. “Why?”I bite my lips. Will I sound like a lunatic? I can’t go back there without falling to pieces. “I trust your judgment. It makes me sad, that’s all.”She huffs out a breath as though I’m a troublesome customer in an upscale boutique. “Well, we are pretty full right now. So you want a big dog?”“Not like a hundred pounds or anything. Like a lab size, I guess.”“No problem with a mixed breed?”“No, of course not.”“A couple years old, not a puppy?”“Yes. Girl or boy, either is fine.”She doesn’t say anything else, just turns and walks through the door, letting it close behind her.A few minutes later, she comes back with a black dog on a leash. “This is Sadie. She’s got shepherd and lab in her, among other things.”I reach my hand down and let her sniff, then pet her head, which she keeps low. But then she licks my arm when I stop. “She’s perfect.”“She’s been here a couple months.”“What’s her story?”The woman snorts. “People surrendered her when they moved. Said they couldn’t take her to their new apartment.”“Why didn’t they find an apartment that accepted dogs? A lot of them do.”“Typical excuse when people get tired of taking care of a pet.”Sadie looks at me and wags her tail, and I’m smitten. “I won’t do that. My husband and I believe that pets are family forever.”That seems to change the woman’s tune. She’s smiling now. “Okay, Mrs. Bradley. Looks like Sadie here is happy. Finish up that paperwork, and if everything checks out, you and your husband have a new family member.”I don’t have the heart to tell her Jay is dead. It will be just me and Sadie.“Thanks. That would be great.”* * *On the way home, Sadie and I stop at the pet store, where I buy a cart full of stuff she’ll need: food, toys, a plush dog bed, stainless steel bowls. When we get home, she is tentative about coming in the house, and I have to coax her. I curse her former owners. She’s definitely unsure, as if waiting for someone to yell at her. But she walks well on the leash, and I finally get her in the house, where she sticks close by my side. I put her stuff away, drag a thirty-pound bag of dry food into the laundry room, then wash and fill one of her bowls with water.The landline rings, and I pick up the receiver, Sadie’s food dish in my other hand.“Mrs. Bradley?” I pause. I don’t recognize the voice.“Yes?”“Hi, it’s George Barton from Mountclair Dry Goods?”“Oh, yes.”“That window Jay ordered has come in. You’ll let him know then?”I swallow. “Yes, of course. Thank you, Mr. Barton.” I hang up before the conversation can continue. Why didn’t I tell him about Jay? I’m going to have to start letting people who don’t live here know. Mountclair is the little town at the foot of the mountain where our New Hampshire house is located. It’s where we pick up supplies. Where we cheerfully browse the racks of canned goods and snacks, glass-fronted coolers full of beer and soft drinks. Kerosene and camping gear fill one corner of the store, everything you might need for a weekend in the mountains. I’d worked Saturday the week before Jay’s birthday, so he ran up to the house alone. He told me he’d boarded up the window and ordered a new one from George. I sit on a kitchen chair. One more thing to worry about. Sadie walks to my side, her claws clicking on the wood floor, and lays her head in my lap.