A Dog's Way Home (11 page)

T
hree weeks after finding Tam on the banks of the New River, Ivy couldn't imagine life without him. She talked to him constantly, read sections of the newspaper aloud to him. She knew she could be mistaken, but it did seem to her he took a keen interest in the sports section. They sat together before the fire, her with her knitting, him with some new toy she tried to interest him in.

Ivy was just finishing reading the last of the sports page to Tam when the phone rang.

It was her daughter, Caroline.

“Yes, honey, I know I haven't called in a while. I've been busy.” She nodded, then looked at Tam and rolled her eyes.

“I know you worry, honey, and I appreciate that, but I'm fine. Really.”

“Come up there this weekend? Well, I don't think I can. Not right now.” Tam could hear what sounded like the chattering of an angry squirrel. He whined, his eyes searching Ivy's face.

Ivy stroked Tam's ears, then said, “It's just I have a sick friend I'm taking care of. He can't do much for himself right now. He's been down for a while and—”

“Now, Caroline, I may be old, but I'm still perfectly capable of helping a friend in need.” Straightening her shoulders, Ivy said in a firm voice, “I will call you in a few days, honey. And then I'll get up there when I can.”

“Honestly,”
Ivy said, hanging up the phone and snapping open the paper. “Now where were we?”

 

A week passed. On an unusually warm day, Tam lay on the front porch, eyes closed, sun soothing his aching shoulder. One ear twitched at rustling in the dry grass of the pasture. In his dream, the coyote arced over the tall grass, ready to pounce. Tam barked his excitement for the hunt.

Ivy heard the muffled
woof
s coming from the sleeping sheltie. She watched his feet twitch, his tail thump. She smiled. “No telling what adventures you're reliving in your dreams,” she said. Gently, she shook him awake.

Tam opened his eyes. For a moment he was confused
by the hard wood beneath his body, the gentle hand on his side, the kind eyes. Where was the coyote and the deep woods and the taste of hot blood?

“Come on, boy,” Ivy said, standing up. “It's time we went to town.” Catching the word
come
, he stood and followed the old woman to the car. A raven called to them from the branches of a dogwood tree as they pulled out of the drive, the sun glinting on its notched tail.

Tam watched the fields and trees race by the car with great interest. It had been a long time since he'd ridden inside a car, but he remembered that it almost always led somewhere exciting.

Ivy turned on the car radio, searching for a station. Tam tilted his head to one side when the sound of a fiddle and banjo leaped from the radio. Ivy smiled and stroked Tam's back. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a definite preference for bluegrass music.”

Their first stop was the Galax post office. She patted Tam's head. “I got to run in and mail off my order for more yarn, boy. You guard the car.” Tam's eyes never left the front door of the post office. He relaxed when she slid back in the front seat beside him. “Now to the bank,” she said.

At the drive-up window, something stirred in Tam's memory as he watched the teller behind the glass. He licked his lips and pressed his nose to the window.

“When did you get you a dog, Mrs. Calhoun?” the girl asked as she counted out the dollar bills.

“He and I sort of found each other out in the woods a while back,” Ivy said.

The girl shook her head. “I'd be careful if I was you, Mrs. Calhoun, taking in stray dogs. My daddy says there's coyotes up in the mountains, closer than you might think.”

Ivy sniffed. “He's a Shetland sheepdog, Tiffany. Not a coyote.”

The metal tray slid toward the car window and opened. Ivy took the cash and a dog biscuit from the tray. She handed Tam the biscuit. “Thanks, Tiffany,” Ivy called as they pulled away.

Ivy watched Tam lick the last of the biscuit crumbs from the car seat. “Next stop is for you, boy,” she said. “It's time to let you do some shopping.” Pulling into the parking lot in front of a store called Everything Dog, Ivy muttered, “
Honestly
, coyotes.

“Well, first thing I guess,” Ivy said, “is to get him a collar. What color do you think would look best on this handsome boy?” she said, looking down at Tam, nestled in her arms.

Prissy Spinks peered at him doubtfully over her glasses. “He's an odd-looking little fellow, isn't he? Kind of puny….”

Hugging Tam closer to her, Ivy said, “He's a Shetland
sheepdog, Prissy. They are very smart and loyal.” Tam wagged his tail and sneezed in agreement.

Brightening, Prissy Spinks pulled a green-and-black-plaid collar from the rack. “Since Shetland sheepdogs are from Scotland, I think a plaid collar would suit him, don't you?”

Next came a bright red leash, food and water bowls, more toys, rawhide chewies, and a fake sheepskin bed. Surveying the pile on the checkout counter, Ivy said, “What else? I feel like I'm forgetting something important….”

“What about an identification tag for his collar, Mrs. Calhoun?”

“Of
course
,” Ivy said, shaking her head. “How could I forget that?”

“I'll just put the form you need to fill out right here in the bag with your receipt. You fill that on out and bring it in. I'll mail it for you myself.”

“How long does it take to get the tag?” Ivy asked as Prissy Spinks loaded the packages in the trunk of her car.

“Only a couple of weeks, is all.”

That night, as Ivy filled out the form, a cold wind raced across the roof of the cabin, blowing down the chimney. “Okay, we'll have them put the address and the phone number. But we need to put your name on the tag too. What's your name? I need to call you something other than ‘boy.'”

Ivy watched Tam limp over to the front door then look back over his shoulder at her. Licking the end of her pencil, she said, “Sam. I think we'll name you Sam. You're a good secret keeper, just like that brother of mine was.”

Tam cocked his head to one side.

“Do you like that name,
Sam
?”

Something pulled deep in Tam's heart.

I
sat next to Miss Bettis on the concrete steps, watching the kids standing around on the playground, not doing anything. They were all so busy texting and calling and listening to their own private music, nobody said word one to anyone else. And, of course, the Queen stood away from everybody in her black clothes, looking bored. it was downright ridiculous. Here it was, warm and sunny (for late January) and best of all, dry, and they all stood around like a bunch of antisocial sheep.

“I've had about all of this I can take.” I handed Miss Bettis the map of the trip from Harmony Gap to nashville I'd been working on and marched out to the playground.
I picked up a perfectly good ball. “Hey, everybody!” I hollered in my loudest voice.

Hardly anybody glanced my way. I tried again. No one batted an eye.

“Here, Abby,” Miss Bettis called, holding out her special emergency whistle on a string.

I put that shiny whistle to my lips and blew with all my might. That got everybody's attention.

“Who wants to play dodgeball?” I asked, holding up the ball.

They all looked at me like I was speaking in some kind of foreign tongue.

I tossed the ball back and forth, from one hand to another. “Come on, y'all. Let's play. It'll be fun. That's what recess is for.”

“I remember playing that in elementary school,” Bree said, rolling her eyes and flipping her hair. “We're too old to play dodgeball.”

Someone said, “Wasn't there a movie called
Dodgeball
?”

And another person said, “Yeah, it was pretty funny.”

Then someone else said, “What'll I do with my cell phone?”

Miss Bettis spoke up. “Everyone bring your cell phones and iPods over to me. I'll take good care of them while you play.” She winked at me.

Finally, I had enough kids to make two teams. At first,
they wanted to play boys against girls, but since most of the girls were in those skirts and boots, I decided to divide up the teams myself.

I drew a long line in the sand with the toe of my sneaker, and explained the rules. “Okay, each team takes a turn trying to hit someone on the other team with the ball. If a person gets hit, they have to go sit with Miss Bettis. The team getting the ball thrown at them can dodge the ball, but they can't cross this line. The first team to get all the players out, wins.”

“And no hitting someone in the head with the ball,” Miss Bettis called from the sidelines.

I threw out the first ball, and right away conked Billy Ray Purdee in the shoulder. “You got to
move
to avoid the ball, Billy Ray,” I said. Billy Ray was kind of fat, so I decided to give him another chance. Pretty soon, everybody was getting into the spirit of things. The kids ran and laughed and yelled. It sounded like a real playground for the first time. Even Madison and some of the other girls had fun playing, once they stopped worrying so much about their hair.

When the bell rang, ending recess, everybody was kind of sad. Guys who'd never even said boo to each other slapped each other's backs and said, “Great shot,” or “You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.” Courtney said, “Can we play again tomorrow, Abby?”

“Sure thing,” I said. “I know all kinds of other games too.”

Miss Bettis handed me back my map as we filed inside. “Good job, Abby,” she said. And I don't think she was talking about my map.

The next day at recess, a whole bunch of kids wanted to play. They all gave Miss Bettis their cell phones and stuff as soon as we got outside. By the end of the week, I'd gotten them to play kickball, too. Even Bree.

 

I waited out front for Mama's car after school on Friday. A whole gaggle of girls waited with me.

“Abby,
please
come with us to see the new movie at the mall tomorrow,” Courtney said. “It's supposed to be so cool.”

“Yeah,” Bree said. “I love the theme song from the movie they play all the time on WKDF.”

I'd hardly ever gone to a big theater in a shopping mall. Olivia and I went to the Reel Time Theater in Harmony Gap. I was kind of curious. “I'll ask Mama,” I said.

Just then, I heard a car horn blow. Mama waved from a line of cars. And right behind her truck was a shiny black limousine.

“Gotta go,” I said.

“Call me tonight,” Madison said.

I trotted out to Mama's truck. I was so busy looking to
see who would be picked up in a limo, I about ran smack into Cheyenne Rivers.

“Watch it, hillbilly,” she growled.

“S-sorry,” I stammered.

Then, just as it occurred to me she had called me the word I hated most, and I was about to tell her what a rude snot she was, she jerked open the back door of the limo and slid in.

Of course.

I hopped into Mama's truck and slammed the door.

Mama glanced in the rearview mirror. “Who was that?”

“That's that snotty ol' Cheyenne Rivers,” I grumbled.

Mama shot me a look. “Watch your mouth, Abby.”

“She about ran me over getting to her car, Mama, and then she called me ‘hillbilly.'” Of all people, Mama knew how much I hated being called that.

Mama eased out into traffic. “One person being rude doesn't give you permission to be rude too.”

I sighed. Mama would never understand.

Later that night, the phone rang. It was Madison. “Did you ask your mom about the movie?”

I'd totally forgotten. “I'll call you back in just a minute,” I said.

Mama and Daddy sat at the kitchen table, going over bills. This never put them in the best mood.

“Mama,” I said, “could I go to a movie tomorrow afternoon?”

“Who with?” Mama asked, not looking up.

“Just some girls from school,” I said. “They want to see that new movie
Tennessee Home
.”

“Sure, you can go,” Mama said. She smiled at Daddy. “That'll give me and your dad some time to ourselves.”

Daddy looked up from the mess of bills and smiled. “A few of the songs in that movie were recorded at our studio.”

“Really?” I said. Boy, wait until I told Bree, Madison, and Courtney about that. They'd never think I wasn't cool again.

“Nothing but country bubblegum, if you ask me,” Daddy said, laughing. “But some of the guys were real nice.”

“But you might as well go too, Holly,” Daddy said, rubbing the back of his neck, not looking at Mama. “I got to be at the studio most of the day tomorrow. Again.”

I swear I saw tears in Mama's eyes. “But why?” she asked. “I thought you were done with the demo.”

Daddy sighed. “Mr. Katz doesn't like most of our songs. He wants us to record a bunch of new ones, ones
he's
picked out.”

Big ol' storm clouds gathered above Mama's eyes. It didn't take a weatherman to know thunder and lightning
were on their way. I grabbed the phone, went back to my bedroom, and closed the door.

After I called Madison, I thought about emailing Olivia. But that meant going through the kitchen to get to Mama's office where the computer was, and I could still hear Mama and Daddy arguing.

So, instead, I picked up my guitar and strummed the opening chords of “The Wayfaring Stranger.” I leaned my back against my pillows and sang: