Consumed

Abruptly, her eyes stung and she had to blink quick and look away. She was not going to cry in front of him—

The palms that cradled her face and turned her back to him were callused yet gentle.

“Let me go,” she said hoarsely.

But he wasn’t holding her. Not really. She could have broken away at any second, and he would have dropped his hands.

“Anne . . .” His voice cracked. “Oh, God, Anne . . .”

Chapter 16

The following morning, at eight a.m., Anne called Dr. Delgado at the vet clinic. As she waited for the receptionist answer, she drummed her fingers on her kitchen countertop. Took a sip of her coffee. Tucked in the back of her blouse—

“Metro Vet, how may I help you?”

“Oh, yes, hi.” She cleared her throat. “This is Anne Ashburn calling about the—”

“The rescue you brought in? The gray pit?”

“Ah, yes. I’d like to—”

“We just gave him over to the New Brunie pound. So you don’t have to worry about any more charges to your card—”

“Wait, what? You gave him to the city shelter? I thought you were going to try to adopt him out?”

“We really couldn’t keep him here. His injuries were not life-threatening, and we really are not in a position to—”

“Hold on, stop.” Anne reminded herself that yelling was not going to help. “Who can I call there? I mean, who can I phone to—never mind. Thanks, bye.”

As she hung up, she couldn’t breathe, and went for her keys. But then she stopped herself. The rehab social workers had warned her not to make any big life-altering plans in the first twelve months following her injuries—and with her working all day at a new job, how was she going to take care of a—

“Screw that,” she said out loud. “That’s my damn dog.”

Traffic was horrible as she tried to get across town, and no matter how many red lights she ran or bypasses she took, it was clear she was in trouble for time if she wanted to make it to work by nine.

When she pulled into the city shelter’s parking lot, she was one of only three cars, and as soon as she got out, she heard the muffled barking.

She jogged to the front door, only to find it locked.

Knocking. Lot of knocking.

Eventually, a tired-looking middle-aged woman with a travel mug appeared on the other side of the glass door. “We’re not open ’til nine—”

“My dog is here,” Anne said loudly. “I need to get him now. I have to go to work.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you in. It’s policy and—”

“Debbie?”

The woman leaned in. “Anne . . . ?”

The door got opened in a flash and a strong pair of arms shot around her. “Oh, my God, I haven’t seen you forever.”

Anne closed her eyes and tried to keep her voice level. “I know, right?”

Debbie Fazio pushed her back. “How are you. And I mean that really. Not socially.”

“I’m okay. How’s Sal?”

“He’s good. He’s Sal, you know the drill. Working overtime at the 508.”

Sal Fazio was a veteran firefighter, a good man, and almost at retirement. He and Debbie had three kids, and Anne had been seeing the family at department functions for years.

“So you got a dog?” Debbie said. “After you . . .”

As the woman tripped over words and avoided looking at the prosthesis, Anne wanted to hug her again and tell her it was all right to feel awkward. Instead, she nodded. “Yes, I got a dog. I mean, I found him on the streets yesterday and the vets couldn’t keep him and I’ve decided to— I’m babbling. I just, can I have him?”

“So he didn’t have an owner?”

“He was feral.”

“What vet did he come from?” Debbie motioned for her to come in. Then she relocked the front door and indicated for Anne to follow her. “Oh—wait, we have a delivery coming in. It’s being processed.”

They went behind the registration desk and entered a concrete kennel area that stretched out behind the administration section of the facility. Anne looked at the first couple of dogs, and then found that she had to focus on the bald floor or she got teary. It helped that everything was clean, and the animals perky, but all she could think about was how they had come to be here. And what would happen if they didn’t get chosen.

“Hey, Bobby, where did those three dogs come in this morning?”

Anne glanced up at a young guy dressed in a green janitor’s uniform. He had dreadlocks and a calm smile. “I brought ’em in and they’re in B down at the end.”

“Great. Thanks.” Debbie hung a left and opened the door to another kennel run. “We have four different buildings.”

“I don’t— I gotta be honest, I don’t know how you do this job.”

“We save so many. I love to see the families come in with the kids. It’s not always easy, but we do good work—we ease suffering, stop cruelty, and give joy every day. You have to focus on the happy if you’re going to keep going, you know?”

“Ah, yes . . . yes, I do.”

Debbie started down another run. “Okay, here we are. Down here.”

At the far end of the sixty or so kennels, Debbie stopped. “One of these three?”

The first two dogs were the wrong size, so she turned to the last and—

The gray mix was all the way back in the kennel again, his tail tucked in tight, his head hanging low, his eyes unfocused. But then he looked up and seemed surprised.

Anne went over and lowered herself onto her knees. Curling her fingers through the chain links, she checked his carefully sutured wounds and measured the swelling of that ear. “Hi.”

That tail wagged, just at the tip. And then the animal shuffled over slowly and sniffed at her fingers. Licked at her.

“Looks like he knows who his mom is,” Debbie said.

• • •

“Okay.” Anne glanced across at her passenger seat. “Here’s the plan, Soot.”

As the light ahead turned red, she hit the brakes. “We’re going to go up the back stairs and I need you to keep a low profile. You can hang out behind my desk in my office and I’ll take you out on the regular. Debbie told me the guy who picked you up said you are not a biter, and I’m going to ask you to keep that up.”

Looking in the rearview, she thanked Sal’s wife in her head again for all the things that filled the back seat. The woman had lent her a collapsible crate that was big enough for Soot to be comfortable in, and provided a stack of old but clean towels, as well as a bowl for water. There was also a halter and leash, and Soot was sporting a plain red nylon collar with his brand-new license and rabies-vaccine tags on it.

“So what do you think? We good?”

Soot’s caramel eyes looked around, checking out the passing cars and the shops as they went along. He was calm, and she told herself he somehow knew that he was safe with her. Whether that was true, she had no idea.

When she pulled into the parking lot of the Fire and Safety building, she went around back. She was ten minutes late already, but she was going to add to that insult. Soot was patient as she put his halter on, and he let her lift him out of the seat and down onto the pavement.

He wasn’t necessarily big, but he was dense even though he was thin.

“Okay, let’s go potty.” What the hell was she doing? “Come on, let’s go onto the grass.”

Soot didn’t move, which made sense. Because he didn’t friggin’ speak English. What he did do, however, was follow her when she walked onto the mowed strip of faded lawn. He didn’t seem to like the halter and he shook his head a lot, as if either his ear was bothering him or he hated the leash.

But he did squat and pee.

Anne felt triumph like she had won the Nobel Peace Prize.

Sneaking him into the building and up to her office with the towels, the crate and the bowl was a thing, though. They used the rear stairs—slowly, because Soot was tentative about it all—and then she was trying to rush him down the carpeted hall of her floor, passing enough open doors to make her feel like she was on a Broadway stage. But they made it.