Dana's Valley (22 page)

Marcy leaned closer so she could be heard above the din and shouted words that echoed through the large room. “Sarah and I are going to watch videos. Are you ready to come?”

“In a minute. You guys go ahead. I'm going to get a drink first.”

I wandered out to the drinking fountain and tried to cool down a little. In a moment I was aware that someone had approached from behind. It was Graham Dawson, the pastor's son, younger brother of Travis. I couldn't believe how tall he'd grown. I guess I hadn't really noticed him for a while.

Now I turned toward him a little. “Hi.” I supposed he had just come to get a drink himself.

“Hi, Erin,” he answered. “How'd the game go?”

“Okay.” He hadn't moved toward the fountain yet, so I decided it was awkward not to continue the conversation. “Were you watching the video?”

“For a little while. But I've already seen it.” I nodded, mute.

He still hadn't gone for his drink. “How about you? Are you going in to watch it?”

“I think so. But I've seen it too. I was just going to be with Marcy and Sarah.”

“Ah.” He seemed to be undecided about how to continue. Then he stepped a little closer and asked, “Have you seen the church web page? Dad's been working on it for a while, and I've helped—some.”

I shook my head.

“I can show it to you.”

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with Graham. But I decided I'd go see his web page and then catch up with Marcy. It wasn't as if I'd be missing anything.

Graham led the way into his dad's office and flipped on the computer. He maneuvered the mouse and clicked repeatedly until the web page flashed up on the screen. And I had to admit it was neat. Parts of it moved or flashed, and there was a cute church-mouse character at the top of each screen like a little tour guide. It surprised me that I was interested.

“How'd you do that?”

He began to explain, and then showed me how easy it was to reset the colors, even letting me try. Before long our little tour-guide mouse was green and then red. We began talking and laughing about other things too. I discovered that Graham had a great sense of humor. And I lost track of the time.

“I wondered where you were.” Marcy was in the doorway. “You never showed up,” she scolded. Sarah peeked over her shoulder and smiled.

They made me feel a little embarrassed, so I hopped up. Graham shut down the computer and then followed me out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

“See ya,” he smiled down at me.

“See ya. Thanks,” I answered and walked off down the hallway with the two girls.

Marcy nudged me. “Hmm. You and Graham in a room by yourselves. That wasn't what I was expecting.”

I frowned at her and whispered hoarsely, “Be quiet. He'll hear you.”

“Hmm,” Marcy repeated, and fortunately let the matter drop.

Brett continued to take Corey with him on private excursions. Mom was still concerned, but she seemed to think it was better not to interfere. Corey was seven now, and Mom was counting on him to tell her anything she needed to know. And she was also relying on Brett's judgment where Corey was concerned. I had serious doubts about the arrangement, but I didn't vocalize them. Corey did often speak of seeing Travis. I think that made us feel a little better. We were all aware that besides his part-time job and school, Brett had few responsibilities. This left him many hours that we couldn't account for.

We went to Uncle Patrick's house for Christmas, and Grandma and Mr. Paulsen joined us. It was good to see her so happy. She talked openly about their home together and how much she liked her new community. Even Auntie Lynn seemed to appreciate the fact that Grandma had found happiness again.

Among her other comments, Grandma mentioned that they had begun attending church, and I noticed Dad suddenly grow interested in the conversation. But then Mr. Paulsen laughed and said it couldn't hurt to cover all the bases, and Dad's expression fell. I knew we'd all continue to pray for both of them.

My grades had improved a great deal. I was back to the level I had been accustomed to before Dana's illness began. And I was enjoying my classes too. In addition, the basketball season had started again. My family sat in the center of the stands for some of my games, shouting and cheering us on. Now and then Brett was there beside Corey. It was so good to have everyone together and happy.

One February morning I came down for breakfast and sniffed deeply. Mom had made bacon and eggs—on a Saturday, no less. We usually had to fend for ourselves on what she referred to as her “morning off.” I joined her in the kitchen, said good-morning, and took the stack of plates that needed to be set around the table. I could hear her humming to herself. Then I caught an odd whimpering sound. Mom hummed a little louder.

“What was that?”

“What was what, honey?”

“That sound. It sounded like … crying.”

Her reaction seemed far too subdued. “I don't know what you mean.”

It came again. From the garage. All at once an explanation began to bubble out of Mom. “Oh, Erin. Don't tell. Please don't tell. Dad and I want it to be a surprise. We got her for Corey. I just thought it was time.”

I moved past her and opened the door to peek into the garage. My eyes fell on a whirling, squirming mass of black fur that scurried across the floor. Before I could stop myself I had jumped back in surprise.

Mom laughed at me, and then laughed again with pleasure. “What do you think?”

I couldn't believe my eyes. They had gotten him his dog. “Does Dana know?”

“Sure. She helped me pick it out this week. We could hardly keep from telling you, but we wanted you to be surprised too. It seemed more fun that way.”

They had surprised me, all right. I was shocked. “Is it going to live in here? With us, in the house?”

“Oh, she'll be in and out for a little, while she's young. Once she's bigger we'll keep her outdoors.”

“It's a
she?
” I stooped down to run a hand over the wriggling puppy. “She is sweet.”

Then we heard Corey approaching. I closed the door quickly and resumed setting the table. As usual Corey chattered away as he entered the kitchen. There was little chance he'd hear a whimper from the garage—just so long as the little thing didn't decide to bark.

We didn't have to wait long. Dad arrived at the table, and then Dana. Mom placed the plate of bacon in front of us and then announced, “We have a little surprise.”

Corey speared a slice of meat and dropped it onto his plate. When no one else moved, he looked up from under his mass of red-blond hair and dropped his fork back down beside his plate. “Oops. Sorry. I should wait.”

Dad spoke. “I think you need to take a look in the garage.”

“I thought I did put my bike away, Daddy. I really thought I did. I don't know
how
it got out.” He was walking obediently to the door, still trying to defend himself. Then he heard a noise. “What's that?” He shot a look back at us and reached for the doorknob. We had already begun to follow him.

“What—?” The puppy made a dash for him before he'd even had a chance for a good look. “A puppy! You got me a dog!” Two little bodies wriggled in a mass of movement. The rest of us stood and watched in awe.

From then on, the little black furry body was at Corey's side every opportunity. Corey named her Max after a dog in a story he'd read. We tried to tell him that it wasn't quite appropriate, that it made her sound like a boy. But Corey just responded by saying, “Some girls are called Max when their name is really Maxine. Katie Brewer has an Auntie Max.” Who could argue with those facts?

The only trouble with Max was the yipping she did when she wanted to be let in. And she
always
wanted in. I could never prove it, but I had a theory that Mom kept the pup inside while she worked at the kitchen table. She now had a part-time job transcribing some kind of medical files. Max seemed so surprised when she was relegated to the garage after supper. And she seemed especially fond of Mom—next to Corey, of course.

Max grew more quickly than we could believe. In a week or two, she'd almost doubled in size. Even Mom was surprised. Then she seemed to double again during the following month. When Corey walked her on the leash, she already pulled him along behind.

He worked with her every day in the driveway, the big melting mounds of snow on each side making it messy to work anywhere else. He taught her to sit and stay and come. We were impressed. She picked up on his commands quickly and seemed eager to please him. But once they struck out together on a walk, she had little patience for being made to move quietly beside him. She sniffed and loped and darted back and forth. Corey tugged back on the leash, but it did little to slow her down. I supposed he'd have to do some more growing of his own before he could adequately control her.

That was when Brett stepped in. How it was he felt qualified to train a dog, I wasn't entirely certain. But at least he had the necessary strength. He took the leash from Corey and looped it several times around his hand so that it was much shorter. Then, in a deep voice, he commanded Max to “heel.”

She wiggled a bit, trying to scoot away from him, but was given no choice. Brett began walking forward. Max fell in beside submissively, until she lunged away at a squirrel darting along the branches of a tree. Brett jerked the leash up, hard enough to bring her to a stop, and then commanded her again. “Heel.” Max cast a curious look upward at him but fell back in step alongside.

“You did it, Brett. You made her walk with you.” Corey trotted along beside them and cheered.

“Oh, she hasn't learned yet. She needs a lot more practice. But I think she's smart. She'll catch on. You're just not quite big enough to make her obey. It's all right, though. She'll catch on.”

Corey's face was beaming with admiration. “You did it, though. You made her.”

It was spring break, and Travis had been over often. In fact, he'd called Brett immediately when break started, asking when they could get together. Now Travis had stopped by on a Saturday afternoon to help Brett with his car. From the kitchen, where I was completing homework I'd been procrastinating on, I could hear a third male voice. It couldn't be Dad—he was out shopping with Mom and Dana—so I went to check it out and found Graham with the other two. It made me blush a little.

“Hi, Erin.” He had already noticed me in the doorway.

“Hi.”

Brett and Travis moved off toward Brett's car, some of Dad's tools in their hands, but Graham made no move to follow. Instead, he stood in the entryway and attempted to explain his presence. “I came with Travis. They're going to work on Brett's car.”

“I know.”

He waited a little awkwardly for a moment. I couldn't think of anything to say either.

“How's your dog?” He suddenly asked, no doubt glad to have thought of a coherent question.

“She's good. Want to see her?”

He seemed relieved. “Sure.” So we headed out into the garage, where Max was penned, and let her out to run behind the house.

Graham didn't look as if he was planning to join Brett and Travis. We played with the dog for a while, chatting about church and our youth group calendar. Then he followed me back into the house. I wasn't sure what to do. I had homework spread out all across the kitchen table, and I needed to get back to work.

With a motion toward the opened books, I informed him, “I'm finishing an algebra assignment.” I tried to say it casually, but I hoped he'd catch on.

“Oh yeah? I like math. What're you doing?”

I showed him my textbook and the page I was working to complete. Instead of heading out, he pulled up a chair and offered to help with the assignment. The truth was, I could really use the help. Graham had a quick mind for math—and computers and science. I enjoyed English and history classes much more. Math required extra effort—especially when it came to story problems. The kind that started, “If a train is heading west at eighty miles an hour, and another train is heading east …” made my head spin.