The Lucky One (12 page)

Since starting at the kennel on Wednesday, he’d spent most of his time with Nana, learning the ins and outs of the place. He hadn’t seen much of Beth, or Elizabeth, as he liked to think of her; in the mornings, she drove off dressed for work and didn’t return until late afternoon. Nana mentioned something about teacher meetings, which made sense, since school would be starting up next week. Aside from an occasional greeting, the only time they’d actually spoken was when she’d pulled him aside on his first day and asked him to look after Nana. He knew what she meant. It was obvious that Nana had suffered a stroke. Their morning training sessions left her breathing harder than seemed warranted, and on her way back to the house, her limp was more pronounced. It made him nervous.

He liked Nana. She had a unique turn of phrase. It amused him, and he wondered how much of it was an act. Eccentric or not, she was intelligent—no doubt about that. He often got the sense she was evaluating him, even in the course of normal conversations. She had opinions about everything, and she wasn’t afraid to share them. Nor did she hesitate to tell him about herself. In the past few days, he’d learned quite a bit about her. She’d told him about her husband and the kennel, the training she’d done in the past, some of the places she’d visited. She also asked about him, and he dutifully answered her questions about his family and upbringing. Strangely, however, she never asked about his military service or if he’d served in Iraq, which struck him as unusual. But he didn’t volunteer the information, because he didn’t really want to talk about it either.

The way Nana studiously avoided the topic—and the four-year hole in his life—suggested that she understood his reticence. And maybe even that his time in Iraq had something to do with the reason he was here.

Smart lady.

Officially, he was supposed to work from eight until five. Unofficially, he showed up at seven and usually worked till seven. He didn’t like to leave knowing there was still more to do. Conveniently, it also gave Elizabeth the chance to see him when she got home from work. Proximity bred familiarity, and familiarity bred comfort. And whenever he saw her, he was reminded that he’d come here because of her.

After that, his reasons for being here were somewhat vague, even to him. Yes, he’d come, but why? What did he want from her? Would he ever tell her the truth? Where was all this leading? On his trek from Colorado, whenever he’d pondered these questions, he’d simply assumed that he’d know the answers if and when he found the woman in the picture. But now that he’d found her, he was no closer to the truth than he’d been when he’d left.

In the meantime, he’d learned some things about her. That she had a son, for instance. That was a bit of a surprise—he’d never considered the possibility. Ben was his name. Seemed like a nice kid, from what little he could tell. Nana mentioned that he played chess and read a lot, but that was about it. Thibault noticed that since he’d started work, Ben had been watching him from behind the curtains or peeking in Thibault’s direction when he spent time with Nana. But Ben kept his distance. He wondered if that was his choice or his mother’s.

Probably his mother’s.

He knew he hadn’t made a good first impression on her. The way he froze when he first saw her didn’t help. He’d known she was attractive, but the faded photo didn’t capture the warmth of her smile or the serious way she studied him, as if searching for hidden flaws.

Lost in thought, he reached the main training area behind the office. The mastiff was panting hard, and Thibault led him toward the kennel. He told Zeus to sit and stay, then put the mastiff back in his cage. He filled the water bowl, along with a few others that seemed low, and retrieved from the office the simple lunch he’d packed earlier. Then he headed for the creek.

He liked to eat there. The brackish water and shady oak with its low-slung branches draped with Spanish moss lent a prehistoric feeling to the place that he and Zeus both enjoyed. Through the trees and at the edge of his vision, he noted a tree house and wood-planked rope bridge that appeared to have been constructed with scraps, something thrown together by someone not completely sure what they were doing. As usual, Zeus stood in the water up to his haunches, cooling off before ducking his head underwater and barking. Crazy dog.

“What’s he doing?” a voice asked.

Thibault turned and saw Ben standing at the edge of the clearing. “No idea.” He shrugged. “Barking at fish, I guess.”

He pushed up his glasses. “Does he do that a lot?”

“Every time he’s out here.”

“It’s strange,” the boy remarked.

“I know.”

Zeus took note of Ben’s presence, making sure no threat was evident, then stuck his head under the water and barked again. Ben stayed at the edge of the clearing. Unsure what to say next, Thibault took another bite of his sandwich.

“I saw you come out here yesterday,” Ben said.

“Yeah?”

“I followed you.”

“I guess you did.”

“My tree house is over there,” he said. He pointed. “It’s my secret hideout.”

“It’s a good thing to have,” Thibault said. He motioned to the branch beside him. “You want to sit down?”

“I can’t get too close.”

“No?”

“My mom says you’re a stranger.”

“It’s a good idea to listen to your mom.”

Ben seemed satisfied with Thibault’s response but uncertain about what to do next. He turned from Thibault to Zeus, debating, before deciding to take a seat on a toppled tree near where he’d been standing, preserving the distance between them.

“Are you going to work here?” he asked.

“I am working here.”

“No. I mean are you going to quit?”

“I don’t plan to.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because the last two guys quit. They didn’t like cleaning up the poop.”

“Not everyone does.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not really.”

“I don’t like the way it smells.” Ben made a face.

“Most people don’t. I just try to ignore it.”

Ben pushed his glasses up on his nose again. “Where’d you get the name Zeus?”

Thibault couldn’t hide a smile. He’d forgotten how curious kids could be. “That was his name when I got him.”

“Why didn’t you change it to something you wanted?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t think about it, I guess.”

“We had a German shepherd. His name was Oliver.”

“Yeah?”

“He died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ben assured him. “He was old.”

Thibault finished his sandwich, stuffed the plastic wrap back in the bag, and opened the bag of nuts he’d packed. He noticed Ben staring at him and gestured toward the bag.

“You want some almonds?”

Ben shook his head. “I’m not supposed to accept food from strangers.”

“Okay. How old are you?”

“Ten. How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“You look older.”

“So do you.”

Ben smiled at that. “My name’s Ben.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben. I’m Logan Thibault.”

“Did you really walk here from Colorado?”

Thibault squinted at him. “Who told you that?”

“I heard Mom talking to Nana. They said that most normal people would have drove.”

“They’re right.”

“Did your legs get tired?”

“At first they did. But after a while, I got used to all the walking. So did Zeus. Actually, I think he liked the walk. There was always something new to see, and he got to chase a zillion squirrels.”

Ben shuffled his feet back and forth, his expression serious. “Can Zeus fetch?”

“Like a champ. But only for a few throws. He gets bored after that. Why? Do you want to throw a stick for him?”

“Can I?”

Thibault cupped his mouth and called for Zeus to come; the dog came bounding out of the water, paused a few feet away, and shook the water from his coat. He focused on Thibault.

“Get a stick.”

Zeus immediately put his nose to the ground, sifting through myriad fallen branches. In the end, he chose a small stick and trotted toward Thibault.

Thibault shook his head. “Bigger,” he said, and Zeus stared at him with what resembled disappointment before turning away. He dropped the stick and resumed searching. “He gets excited when he plays, and if the stick is too small, he’ll snap it in half,” Thibault explained. “He does it every time.”

Ben nodded, looking solemn.

Zeus returned with a larger stick and brought it to Thibault. Thibault broke off a few of the remaining twigs, making it a bit smoother, then gave it back to Zeus.

“Take it to Ben.”

Zeus didn’t understand the command and tilted his head, ears pricked. Thibault pointed toward Ben. “Ben,” he said. “Stick.”

Zeus trotted toward Ben, stick in his mouth, then dropped it at Ben’s feet. He sniffed Ben, took a step closer, and allowed Ben to pet him.

“He knows my name?”

“Now he does.”

“Forever?”

“Probably. Now that he’s smelled you.”

“How could he learn it so fast?”

“He just does. He’s used to learning things quickly.”

Zeus sidled closer and licked Ben’s face, then retreated, his gaze flickering from Ben to the stick and back again.

Thibault pointed to the stick. “He wants you to throw it. That’s his way of asking.”

Ben grabbed the stick and seemed to debate his next move. “Can I throw it in the water?”

“He’d love that.”

Ben heaved it into the slow-moving creek. Zeus bounded into the water and began to paddle. He retrieved the stick, stopped a few feet from Ben to shake off, then got close and dropped the stick again.

“I trained him to shake off before he gets too close. I don’t like getting wet,” Thibault said.

“That’s cool.”

Thibault smiled as Ben threw the stick again.

“What else can he do?” Ben asked over his shoulder.

“Lots of things. Like . . . he’s great at playing hide-and-go-seek. If you hide, he’ll find you.”

“Can we do that sometime?”

“Anytime you want.”

“Awesome. Is he an attack dog, too?”

“Yes. But mostly he’s friendly.”

Finishing the rest of his lunch, Thibault watched as Ben continued to throw the stick. On the last throw, while Zeus retrieved it, he didn’t trot toward Ben. Instead, he walked off to the side and lay down. Holding one paw over the stick, he began to gnaw.

“That means he’s done,” Thibault said. “You’ve got a good arm, by the way. Do you play baseball?”

“Last year. But I don’t know if I’ll play this year. I want to learn how to play the violin.”

“I played the violin as a kid,” Thibault remarked.

“Really?” Ben’s face registered surprise.

“Piano, too. Eight years.”

Off to the side, Zeus raised his head from the stick, becoming alert. A moment later, Thibault heard the sound of someone coming up the path as Elizabeth’s voice floated through the trees.

“Ben?”

“Over here, Mom!” Ben shouted.

Thibault raised his palm toward Zeus. “It’s okay.”

“There you are,” she said, stepping into view. “What are you doing out here?”

Her friendly expression froze as soon as she spotted Thibault, and he could plainly read the question in her eyes:
Why is my son in the woods with a man I barely know?
Thibault felt no need to defend himself. He’d done nothing wrong. Instead, he nodded a greeting.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she said, her tone cautious. By that time, Ben was already running toward her.

“You should see what his dog can do, Mom! He’s supersmart. Even smarter than Oliver was.”

“That’s great.” She put an arm around him. “You ready to come inside? I have lunch on the table.”

“He knows me and everything. . . .”

“Who?”

“The dog. Zeus. He knows my name.”

She turned her gaze to Thibault. “Does he?”

Thibault nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well . . . good.”

“Guess what? He played the violin.”

“Zeus?”

“No, Mom. Mr. Thibault did. As a kid. He played the violin.”

“Really?” She seemed startled by that.

Thibault nodded. “My mom was kind of a music fanatic. She wanted me to master Shostakovich, but I wasn’t that gifted. I could play a decent Mendelssohn, though.”

Her smile was forced. “I see.”

Despite her apparent discomfort, Thibault laughed.

“What?” she asked, obviously remembering their earlier encounter as well.

“Nothing.”

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing,” she said. “It’s just that you should have told me where you were going.”

“I come out here all the time.”

“I know,” she said, “but next time, let me know, okay?”

So I can keep an eye on you,
she didn’t say.
So I know you’re safe.
Again, Thibault understood the message, even if Ben didn’t.

“I should probably head back to the office,” he said, rising from the branch. He collected the remains of his lunch. “I want to check the mastiff’s water. He was hot, and I’m sure he finished his bowl. See you later, Ben. You too.” He turned. “Zeus! Let’s go.”

Zeus sprang from his spot and went to Thibault’s side; a moment later, they stood at the head of the footpath.

“Bye, Mr. Thibault,” Ben called.

Thibault turned around, walking backward. “Nice talking to you, Ben. And by the way, it’s not Mr. Thibault. Just Thibault.”

With that, he turned back around, feeling the weight of Elizabeth’s gaze on him until he vanished from sight.

9

Clayton

T
hat evening, Keith Clayton lay on the bed smoking a cigarette, kind of glad that Nikki was in the shower. He liked the way she looked after a shower, with her hair wet and wild. The image kept him from dwelling on the fact that he would rather she grab her things and go on home.

It was the fourth time in the last five days that she’d spent the night. She was a cashier at the Quick Stop where he bought his Doritos, and for the last month or so, he’d been wondering whether or not to ask her out. Her teeth weren’t so great and her skin was kind of pockmarked, but her body was killer, which was more than enough, considering he needed a bit of stress reduction.