One Mountain Away (18 page)

Charlotte put off answering the question. “You’re sure you’re up to this? It’s going to get steep for the second part of the trip, and it might be tough to turn around.”

“I never get carsick.”

“Not even when you’re pregnant?”

“I’ve never been pregnant before.”

“I rest my case.”

“If I get sick, you can laugh all the way home.”

“Only if you don’t get sick in my car.”

“It’s warm, so I’ll hang my head out the window.”

Charlotte laughed, and the laughter felt good. That was another reason she’d brought Harmony. The girl made her feel young and silly herself.

They were quickly in the country, since metropolitan Asheville was small by city standards. They passed mobile homes on hillsides, and businesses in ramshackle buildings fronted by haphazardly parked pickup trucks. Expensive newer homes dotted the landscape, as well, along with a few refurbished Victorians from another century, and everywhere land had been plowed for gardens. The road dipped, turned and switched back, but Charlotte knew that the real climb lay ahead.

“We’re almost at the first stop, I think,” she said, after she checked her odometer. “We’re supposed to look for a barn—”

“That’ll be easy. I mean, who has a barn in North Carolina?”

Charlotte tossed her a smile. “It’s on the left, with diagonal slats, which are unusual. There’s a pond to the left of that, and the road’s got new gravel. Typical North Carolina directions. We turn and follow the gravel about a mile and a half before we turn off on a dirt road. The farmhouse is about a hundred yards beyond the turnoff.”

“Is this something you’re doing for your job? Don’t you sell real estate?”

“Not exactly.”

“I’ve noticed brochures in your den. Falconview Development, and I saw your photograph on the front.”

“We do sell real estate, but more often we develop it.” Since a glance showed Harmony was interested, Charlotte continued. “We buy land either for our own projects or those of investors, and we do the necessary work so we can improve it for other uses. Siting, permits, architectural renderings, for example.”

“What kind of projects?”

“Shopping centers. Office complexes. Housing communities. Institutions like schools or banks. Sometimes we do the construction, but sometimes we just do the groundwork, make improvements and sell the property for others to build on.”

“The economy’s in the toilet. People are still developing land around here?”

“Not so you’d notice.” Charlotte realized she didn’t even feel frustrated when she thought about all the housing communities that had never been finished, all the ground that hadn’t been broken. A serious illness changed everything. She no longer cared whether she was making money hand over fist. Now, more than anything, she felt sorry for all the people who hadn’t been as lucky with their own investments as she had, and she wished she could help.

She glanced at her companion again. “We’re hanging by our fingernails, but we’ll hang on until things improve. We had the foresight to get out of some deals and sell property that would have dragged us so low we could never have recovered. Some people thought we were crazy, because we took large losses, but they aren’t shaking their heads anymore.”

“I can’t imagine how you learn something like that.”

Charlotte was grateful to spot the barn in question, because talking about Falconview made her uncomfortable. She had changed from a hands-on executive to an absent one, turning over most of the jobs she normally did and the decisions she usually made to others. She showed up most mornings, but only for brief periods, and she avoided probing questions and explanations. She knew her disinterest in the company she had founded was the talk of the office. She also knew it might well breed a power play she was no longer strong enough to thwart.

She slowed to make the first turn and turned the conversation to something more important. “Right now, I want to tell you what we’re doing here.”

She waited until they were on the gravel road, glad she’d taken her Jeep Cherokee instead of the lower-slung Audi. Stones pinged against the undercarriage, and she had to drive slower. There had been a time in her life when a gravel road like this one would have seemed the ultimate luxury.

“There’s a woman who lives down this road, a dog breeder named Marilla Reynolds,” Charlotte said. “She specializes in service dogs.”

“Armed services? Like attack dogs?”

“Friendlier than that. Most of her puppies go to agencies that train them to be helpers. I’ve been reading. Dogs can assist the blind or the hearing impaired, even people with mobility issues. Anybody who needs the help a trained dog can provide.” She paused. “Even people with seizure disorders.”

“How’s that work?”

Since the gravel was thundering louder under the Cherokee, Charlotte slowed even more. She didn’t want to shout. “A variety of ways. First, the dogs stay with somebody having a seizure. They can even lie beside them to cushion them so they don’t get hurt. They can alert others so they can come to help. At night they can pull pillows and covers off the bed to reduce the chance a child having a seizure might smother.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

It
was
amazing. “I forgot to tell you. The road we turn on has weeping willows on each side of it and a sign that says Capable Canines.”

“I’ll watch.”

“The other thing only some of the dogs can do? They can actually sense a seizure coming on. It’s uncanny, but real. Those dogs can warn their owners and let them know what’s ahead, so they can lie down or get to a safe place. Dog owners noticed it first, on their own, and started telling their doctors. Researchers have done studies, and they’ve proved it happens.”

“Is it possible a dog alerting its owner to a seizure could cause one?” Harmony asked. “You know, like if somebody says you stepped in poison ivy you start itching, even if it’s a false alarm?”

Charlotte never doubted how bright Harmony was, but she enjoyed the daily proof. “That’s a good question. Researchers actually learned that seizures diminish in numbers with a seizure response dog. Having a dog companion helps with relaxation. Plus the dogs are ice breakers and encourage socialization. Anyway, the owner becomes more comfortable and secure, and that helps.”

“So the dogs put a wagging tail on a serious problem.”

Charlotte smiled. “I love the way you express yourself.”

Harmony looked startled. “Davis said something like that last time we were together, only it’s not true. He’s happiest when I don’t express myself at all.”

Charlotte knew better than to interfere, but she couldn’t help her next remark. “A lifetime of that could be tough.”

“I lived one already. Take my word for it.”

Charlotte saw the willows and sign up ahead, and slowed even more to turn. Harmony changed the subject before Charlotte could add anything else.

“You didn’t tell me why you’re interested in these dogs.”

“Someone I’m close to…” Charlotte realized how far from the truth that was, ironically so. She sighed—audibly, she was afraid. “Someone I’m
not
close to, but wish I were, has seizures. The dogs are very expensive, thousands and thousands of dollars by the time they’re trained. And they’re hard to get. The thing is, there’s no real way of knowing if a dog will actually be able to sense a seizure. Trainers can hope, but it’s a unique skill, maybe inborn. They can train for everything else, but they can’t guarantee that.”

“Are you going to buy a dog today? For your friend?”

“It’s my granddaughter.”

“I didn’t know you had a granddaughter. Those must be her paintings in the kitchen.”

“No, those are her mother’s.” A house loomed before them as they followed the driveway into a steep curve. It was an old North Carolina farmhouse, the real thing, not a copy, painted a dark blue-green with white trim. Hydrangeas bloomed against a lattice-trimmed porch, and a swing set adorned a side yard in front of a two-story garage.

Charlotte had expected to hear dogs barking when she turned off her engine, but except for the angry cawing of a crow, the property was eerily quiet.

“Her name is Maddie,” Charlotte said. “Her mother’s very angry at me, and we haven’t spoken since Maddie was born. I’ve never met my granddaughter, even though she lives in Asheville, too.”

“Oh…”

Charlotte thought how much one syllable could say. “It’s hard to understand. I don’t really understand it all myself, except that the fault’s mine.”

“Is the dog… Is this a way back into her life?”

Charlotte opened her door. “I think her mother might see it as a bribe. But it’s…” She tried to express exactly what it was. “It’s just a gift. No strings attached. If I can make it happen.”

“How could she not be happy, or at least happier, with you afterward?”

They were both outside now, walking up the path toward the house. Charlotte tried to explain. “I suspect from things you’ve said that you have a problem with your mother?”

Harmony grunted. “No, my mother and I have the same problem. My father.”

“What if you needed something, and your father magically produced it for you. Would you suddenly trust him? Or would you assume there were complications or pitfalls you couldn’t see?”

“I’m afraid that’s easy.”

“You see my problem.”

“I see the part of it you want me to.”

Charlotte gave her a quick, one-armed hug. “Thank you for coming today. This is easier with you here.”

“I’m glad.”

On the porch, Charlotte rapped on a screen door adorned with decorative fan and spindle woodwork from another era. As they waited, she wondered if anybody was home. At the least she had expected a canine chorus, but the house was suspiciously silent.

“How’d you find out about this place?” Harmony asked.

“My minister told me. That’s who called during breakfast. We talked about Maddie recently, so she knows the story. She was doing a wedding last night, and somebody in the wedding party fosters puppies from this kennel. She thought I might want to check out what they do, maybe get on the list for a dog, if that’s how it works.”

“Fosters puppies?”

“These people are the breeders. Some helping dogs come from shelters, but this breeder is trying to perfect a line of goldendoodle puppies from parents that have been particularly good at detecting seizures.”

“What’s a goldendoodle? You’re not kidding?”

“It’s a cross between a poodle and a golden retriever. Once the pups are weaned, they pass them to families to be fostered. The families do basic obedience training, get them used to differing environments and make notes about their progress or lack of it. Once a dog’s matured and been evaluated and accepted, it goes into professional training, then training with its new owner, and finally, it goes to its new home.”

“Your minister told you all that?”

“I did a little internet research before we left this morning.”

“Enough to find out if they’re still operating?”

Charlotte was trying not to feel disappointed. “There were directions on their website, but when I tried the phone number, their answering machine clicked off before I could leave a message. I thought at the least I could leave a note if they weren’t here.”

“You might want to get out your pen.” Harmony went to the edge of the porch and looked beyond the house. “We could try the barn. Maybe that’s where they keep the puppies? Maybe they’re out there now.”

“Let’s do that before we give up. I just hope none of the dogs are loose. They might feel territorial.”

“Dogs usually like me. I’m not sure why, but I seem to attract them.”

Charlotte followed her down the steps and along a worn dirt path toward a small unpainted barn. She could see sunlight streaming through the open center, but nothing else.

“Did you have a dog as a child?” she asked.

“Dogs are messy. Mess was forbidden in our house. And noise. And confusion.”

Charlotte felt a stab of anger at a family she didn’t even know. “That’s a hard way to grow up.”

“If everything was exactly the way he liked it, my father was actually pleasant. He would bring my mother flowers, tell her how happy he was that she made his life so easy. Once he bought me a gold necklace because he said nobody had ever had a better daughter. That night he slapped my mother so hard she hit her head on the kitchen counter and had to have six stitches. I don’t remember what she did to make him angry, but the blood made him angrier. He accused her of landing against the counter on purpose. While they were at the hospital, I flushed the necklace down the toilet.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” Charlotte said, which was true.

“She never reports the abuse. Maybe if he was hateful all the time she would get the courage to leave like I did. But the kindness, the flowers, the compliments? The uncertainty keeps her rooted to the spot. Now every time I call, her voice seems farther away. I think she’ll fade away one day and nobody will notice.”

“I’m so sorry, Harmony, but I’m glad you left.”

“Sometimes I think I should have stayed to protect her. But she helped me pack and bought my bus ticket.” Harmony hesitated. “I dumped that on you, I’m sorry. I don’t know why.”

“I hope you aren’t really sorry, and I hope you know you can’t protect her until she’s ready for help. She wanted you to have a better life.”

“I’ve always thought she named me Harmony because that was the only way she was ever going to have any in our house. She used to have a great sense of humor. It helped.”

Charlotte noted the use of the past tense. “It’s a lovely name. You do it justice.”

“You’re so nice to me.”

They had reached the barn, and since it was the standard gabled crib barn, stalls on each side with a wide roofed opening between, they could easily walk right in. They found it empty, although it still smelled like horses.

Harmony pointed out the back door. “That’s where the kennel is.”

They kept walking until they were outside again, where they started toward the kennel, a long, one-story building with a chain link fence bordering a grassy slope. Everything Charlotte had seen so far was neat and well kept. No peeling paint here, no trash or sprawling weeds, but something was amiss. The place felt more like a graveyard than a working farm.