Dog Whisperer (17 page)

That was so ridiculous that Emily laughed.

Cyril laughed, too. “I can probably do better than that, can't I?”

Without a doubt. Emily tried to think of a better compromise. “What if you take away the line completely,” she said, “as long as he stops in front of the door every time he comes inside, and does five push-ups?” Since Cyril was a proud veteran, she figured that might appeal to him.

Cyril mulled that over. “All right. Make it ten push-ups,
every single time
, and we have a deal.”

Could Bobby do ten push-ups? Probably. If not, she would just let him know that he should start practicing. “Sounds good to me,” she said.

*   *   *

Her father showed up at the store around five thirty, and thanked Cyril several times.

“My pleasure,” Cyril said. “Emily and Zack are good company. They're welcome here anytime at all.”

“Thank you,” Emily said shyly. “It was very nice of you to let us spend the afternoon with you.”

“Happy to do it,” Cyril said, and then winked at her. “Even if you
are
friends with a snaggle-toothed punk.”

She would have to email Bobby as soon as she got home, and let him know that he had better start working on his push-ups.

“Did you have a good time?” her father asked, as they got into the car.

She had, but she was determined not to admit it. “It was okay,” she said. “Even though I am
completely
old enough to stay home by myself.”

Her father smiled. “Yes, I think I remember you mentioning that at least once before.”

Or even a few thousand times.

“You know, one of these days, we'll actually break down, and start letting you come home alone after school,” he said, checking both ways before turning out onto the road. “What will you complain bitterly about then?”

That was a good question. “I don't know,” Emily said. “I guess I'll think of something. Do you have any ideas?”

Her father shrugged. “How much time to spend on your homework, curfews, dating, whether you can borrow the car
again
, or maybe how much we embarrass you in public?”

Emily nodded. “Those are all pretty good. I'll have to be sure and pick one of those.”

“Good. Something to look forward to!” her father said cheerfully.

Yes, she could hardly wait herself.

New and interesting family arguments.

Yay!

 

17

Before they sat down to dinner that night, her mother fixed an extra plate, and covered it carefully with foil.

“What's that?” Emily asked.

Her mother shrugged. “I can't help worrying about Mrs. Griswold. She's so stubborn, that she may not be eating properly. So, let me just run this down there, before we eat.”

“Want me to take it?” Emily asked.

Her mother hesitated, then nodded. “Sure. Why not? But, don't be gone too long, okay?”

So, Emily snapped on Zachary's leash, while her mother packed the hot plate and a package of homemade brownies into a small picnic basket.

“Can you manage that without any trouble?” her mother asked.

Emily hefted the basket experimentally. “Sure. No problem.”

So, she and Zack walked down to Mrs. Griswold's house, and Emily knocked on the door. It took a long time, but finally, Mrs. Griswold opened it, balancing on her walker. She looked frail, and tired—and
lonely
.

“Yes?” she asked, sounding just as annoyed as she always did. “What do you want, Emily?”

Emily held out the basket. “My mother made way too much, and she thought you might like some supper?”

“Oh.” Mrs. Griswold looked surprised, and maybe slightly embarrassed. “Yes. I see. Well, that was very thoughtful of her. I'm perfectly fine, though.”

Emily bit her lip, not sure what she was supposed to do. “Does that mean you want me to take it back home?”

Mrs. Griswold hesitated. “No, I—thank you. Perhaps, you could just set it on the table?”

Emily felt shy about going into the house, but Zack had already bounced inside and jumped up onto the couch.

“No, Zack!” Emily said quickly. “Down, boy!”

He wagged his tail and looked at her with his bright brown eyes, staying right where he was.

Mrs. Griswold's mouth twitched to one side, as though she had thought about smiling. “I see that his obedience training has been very successful.”

Not at the moment, that was for sure. “
Down
, Zack,” Emily said more firmly.

She knew he wanted to stay right where he was, but he climbed down, managing to knock over two books, a stack of magazines, and the television remote on the way. Emily quickly bent down and picked everything up.

“Don't bother yourself, child,” Mrs. Griswold said. “It's not a big deal.”

Emily arranged everything back on the coffee table, including the picnic basket from her mother. “He's very clumsy sometimes,” Emily said. “I don't think he knows how big he is.” In fact, sometimes, she suspected that he thought he was only about the size of a cat!

“No harm,” Mrs. Griswold said, making her way painfully towards the couch, on her walker. “Would you mind letting yourself out? And please, thank your mother for her kindness.”

It made Emily sad to think of Mrs. Griswold spending the evening all by herself, and she stood there for a minute, not wanting to leave quite yet.

“Well, what is it?” Mrs. Griswold asked impatiently. “I simply can't abide dithering. Just spit it out.”

Could she?
Should
she?

Zack nudged her hand, comfortingly, and she patted him on the head, trying to get her nerve up.

It had been years; there was no reason that she had to bring the subject up
today
. In fact, there was really no reason that she
ever
had to mention it. Because it really wasn't any of her business, and she hadn't exactly asked to encounter a ghost, or anything like that.

“It wasn't your fault,” Emily said.

Mrs. Griswold shrugged that off. “I'll heal. It was my own choice not to evacuate to the shelter.”

If Mrs. Griswold thought she was only talking about the hurricane, that gave her a graceful way out. She could nod, and agree—and
leave
.

But, Zack was leaning heavily against her legs, as though he was trying to push her forward. And it was hard to ignore a large furry conscience.

Emily swallowed. “The accident,” she said. “It wasn't your fault.”

Mrs. Griswold's expression darkened. “That's not something I discuss. Ever. And you're a child; what do
you
know about it?”

A lot more than Mrs. Griswold thought she did.

“That's why they call them
accidents
,” Emily said. “If not, they would call them ‘on purposes' or something. I'm supposed to—” No, wait, that part was a secret, and she wasn't supposed to tell Mrs. Griswold about it. “I mean, it was a bad accident. A
terrible
accident. But, no one blames you. They really don't.”

Mrs. Griswold laughed harshly. “Of course people blame me.
I
blame me.” She hoisted herself up onto her walker. “Now, I would like you to leave immediately, please. I don't need anyone—especially a youngster who wasn't even there—telling me how I'm supposed to feel.”

Fine. Emily would be
glad
to leave—and never, ever come back.

“Am I your volunteer project or something?” Mrs. Griswold demanded. “Are you going to get public service credits for being nice to the old lady down the street?”

Wow, she really was mean! “Don't worry,” Emily said quietly. “I'm leaving now. I'm not going to bother you again.”

Zack still seemed to want to stay, but she gave his leash a quick tug, and he reluctantly followed her towards the front door.

Then—for no clear reason—something weird popped into her head, and she found herself saying it aloud.

“My little buttercup has the sweetest smile,” she said.

Mrs. Griswold's head snapped around. “What?!”

Emily had no idea—and was kind of freaked out by having said something that made absolutely no sense. But, she had an intense urge to do it again. “Dear little buttercup, won't you stay awhile,” she said, and blinked.

Zack wagged his tail and did something with his front paws that almost looked like
dancing
.

Mrs. Griswold had gone completely pale, and she looked as though she was trembling. “What made you say that?”

Since she had no idea, Emily just shrugged defensively.

“You need to go now,” Mrs. Griswold said, her voice shaking.

Emily nodded, feeling a little dazed, and confused—and scared.

“Now!” Mrs. Griswold yelled. “Get out of here!”

Emily nodded—and
ran
!

*   *   *

It was a huge relief to get outside in the fresh air—and
away
from Mrs. Griswold. Emily stopped at the edge of the porch to catch her breath, her heart pounding so loudly that she couldn't hear anything else.

Okay, she had said something unexpected. Something that didn't make sense. Something that hadn't come out of her mind—
or
Zack's. It wasn't the end of the world, though. She would just go home, and tell her parents she didn't feel well—because, right now, she
didn't
. They would bundle her off to bed, bring her supper on a tray, and everything would be okay again.

She was feeling dizzy, so she took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. Zack was standing very close to her, and she leaned on him as she made her way down the steps.

There was a black-and-white Border collie she had never seen before playing gaily in the front yard, and Emily stared at it for a second.

Zack yanked the leash out of her hand and ran over to greet the dog. The two dogs wagged their tails, and then began galloping around wildly in one of those “only dogs know the rules” games.

As Emily walked closer, she saw that the Border collie looked sort of—
shimmery
. That might not be a word, but the dog had what looked like a slight golden glow.

Which gave her the sinking sensation that this might be yet another
ghost
.

Great.

Just great.

Not that Zack seemed to mind at all, as he raced back and forth, and jumped, and dodged, and rolled on the ground, playing happily.

“They look like they're having fun,” a voice next to her said—and Emily jumped about a foot. Maybe even
two
feet.

Okay. It was only Mr. Griswold. But, still. Emily took another deep breath, and wiped her sleeve across her face, since it felt as though she was perspiring. “Is that dog Marigold?” she asked.

Mr. Griswold nodded proudly. “Yes, that's my girl. Isn't she a beauty?”

No question—she was a really neat-looking dog. “Why is she here?” Emily asked. More to the point, why could Emily
see
her?

Mr. Griswold shrugged. “I think she visits a lot. I can't say for certain, though.”

Okay. “Why is she all like, glow-y?” Emily asked.

Mr. Griswold shrugged again. “There are many answers I do not have.”

Right. Well, what else was new? “I don't want to be rude, sir,” Emily said, “but am I
always
going to see a bunch of ghosts now? Because I would kind of rather not have it be a regular thing, you know?”

Mr. Griswold smiled at her. “You and your Zachary have a special gift. You're going to be able to help people in so many different ways.”

It was nice to be able to help, but that certainly wasn't what she wanted to hear. “So, I
am
going to see ghosts all the time?” she said.

“I think not,” he answered. “You will help in various ways, at various times. You will have many choices.”

Well, she hadn't exactly helped Mrs. Griswold, had she? In fact, as far as she could tell, all she had managed to do was scare the daylights out of her. “It doesn't always work,” she said. “Even when I try.”

“My Abby wasn't ready to talk about it?” he said.

That
was an understatement.

“She can be stubborn,” he said. “It's just her way.”

Another understatement. Emily looked at him nervously. “I said some weird stuff about buttercups. It didn't make any sense at all. Did you make me do that?”

He shook his head. “I was thinking of things Abigail would associate only with me—and you must have sensed that.”

She would
way
rather not be able to read a ghost's mind. In fact, all of this was so confusing, that she decided to sit down on the grass for a minute. But, it didn't help that Zack was joyfully chasing a
ghost
dog back and forth right in front of her.

Mr. Griswold sat down next to her, although he seemed to hover slightly above the actual ground. “As you learn and experience more,” he said, “it will be easier for you to control your gifts. You will be able to be open to things you want to sense, but block the ones which trouble you.”

Good
. The sooner, the better. “Why didn't you just come inside and talk to her directly?” Emily asked. “Wouldn't that have been easier?”

Mr. Griswold looked horrified. “We must not cause pain, because of the task. My beloved would not be ready for me to appear like that.”

Ghosts had a lot of rules. “Does she have to invite you in?” Emily asked. “Like, you know, vampires?”

Mr. Griswold looked confused. “I do not understand that.”

Well, he was probably pretty far behind on his pop culture, what with being dead and all. And—vampires weren't real.

As far as she knew.