Hannah's List (8 page)

“
W
hat is that noise?” Macy Roth asked Snowball, who’d planted himself on the closed toilet seat and studied her as she brushed her teeth. It was late and Macy was tired. She had a photo shoot in the morning; she planned to work on her knitting for half an hour or so and then go to sleep.

A car horn blared not far away, followed by the sound of screeching tires.

Macy turned off the water and then it happened again—a driver repeatedly hitting the horn.

Walking barefoot through her living room, the toothbrush clenched between her teeth, Macy decided to investigate. Peeking through the front window, she saw the lights of an oncoming car illuminate a large dog who stood, paralyzed by fear, in the middle of the street. Although Jackson Avenue was in a residential neighborhood,
there was quite a lot of traffic, even at night. If the animal remained where it was, sooner or later it would be hit. Someone had to do something and, despite the noise, she didn’t think anyone else had noticed.

Opening her door, Macy hurried outside, disregarding the fact that all she had on were her cotton pajamas. Her toothbrush was still in her mouth. She grabbed the trembling dog by the scruff of his neck and urged him onto the sidewalk.

Her heart pounded furiously as she led him toward her front steps. He was terrified enough to allow himself to be dragged, offering no resistance at all. Macy drew him into the house and closed the door. He was a large, long-haired brown dog of indeterminate breed—or breeds. Once inside, he stared up at her with a forlorn expression that would’ve softened the hardest of hearts. His pitiful brown eyes seemed to thank her for coming to his rescue. He continued to tremble as she bent to stroke his head.

She removed the toothbrush from her mouth and saw him gaze at it longingly. “Nope, this isn’t very tasty,” she said, tucking it behind her ear. The dog thumped his tail.

“Who are you, fellow?” she asked. Not surprisingly he had no collar and she doubted he’d have a microchip or a tattoo.

The poor dog looked as if he’d been lost for quite a while. He was emaciated, his thick hair matted with mud and grime.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

He sat down on his haunches and stared at her with trusting eyes.

“You might as well come into the kitchen and I’ll see what I can find, but be warned—I only have cat food.” As if he understood every word, he got up and trotted behind her.

Snowball stood guard over his dish; he took one look at the dog, arched his back and hissed.

“Hush,” Macy said. She placed her hand on the dog’s head. “You’ll have to pardon the lack of welcome from Snowball. Don’t take it personally.”

She removed a can of cat food from the small stack on her shelf. “Sorry, this is all I have. I hope you like salmon.” From the looks of this mutt, he’d eat practically anything.

She was right.

He gobbled down the cat food almost as fast as she could spoon it onto the paper plate. The dry food disappeared just as quickly and when he was finished he gazed up at her as if to plead for more.

“Poor boy,” Macy whispered. Lovie and Peace strolled casually into the kitchen to inspect the newcomer. Snowball, on the other hand, viewed him as an interloper and was having nothing to do with him.

Lovie edged close to the dog and began to purr. He’s kind of cute, she seemed to be saying. Can we keep him?

“No, he can’t stay,” Macy informed her. “He’s lost and we need to find his owner, or, failing that, a decent home.”

Peace joined her friend, apparently taking up the dog’s cause.

“Not you, too!” Macy groaned. “Okay, just for tonight, but that’s it.” She regarded the dog a second time. He was
filthy. “However,” she added, “if I let you stay the night, you’re going to have a bath.”

As she took the pet shampoo out from under the sink and opened it, all three cats scattered in different directions. “I wasn’t talking about the three of
you,”
she said with a laugh. Lovie and Peace hated water, although Snowball rather enjoyed playing with it. He frequently stuck his paws or his tongue under the faucet. It was a brave front, Macy suspected, aimed at showing up the two females. But he wasn’t any fonder of baths than they were, no doubt recalling the time he’d escaped into a muddy, rainy night and come home to face the consequences—being doused with this same antiseptic-smelling shampoo.

The dog cocked his head to one side.

“You need a name,” Macy said. She wasn’t sure why animals found their way to her door. It’d started when she was a child. They seemed to sense her love, her appreciation and her joy in their presence. While mice and spiders terrified her family and friends, Macy saw them as utterly fascinating. She couldn’t imagine a home without pets, or herself without a host of animals.

“How about Sammy?” she suggested.

The dog lay down on the cold kitchen floor and rested his chin on his paws.

She patted his head. “Okay, Sammy it is. Now, don’t you worry, we’ll find you a wonderful home.” Seeing that he was such a well-behaved dog, she couldn’t help speculating on what might have happened. Had he wandered off
when someone opened the door? Or perhaps he’d escaped from a farm miles away. Worst of all, he could’ve been abandoned, maybe because his people had moved to some apartment building with a no-animals clause. She’d make an effort to return him if he had an owner—and if that owner was looking—but she suspected the task of relocating him would be up to her.

“We’re going to clean you up and make you good as new,” she murmured. He didn’t seem to mind the cats’ food and she figured he’d have no problem with their shampoo.

She led him down the hallway to the bathroom. Snowball hissed from Macy’s bed as if to declare that this was
his
territory and Sammy had better not trespass.

“Oh, honestly, Snowball, your hiss is worse than your bite. Now, be nice. Sammy’s our guest.” She went into the bathroom, the dog at her heels, and filled the tub with warm water. She read the label on the shampoo bottle. Thankfully it would eliminate any fleas.

It took some doing to convince Sammy that he needed a bath. By the time she’d finished, she was soaked from head to foot and the bathroom looked as though a tornado had struck. Towels lined the floor and mud spatters reached all the way to the ceiling. Brushing Sammy’s hair proved to be an impossible task, so Macy sat on the floor with a pair of scissors and did what she could.

When he was relatively clean and kempt, it was nearly one o’clock. All three cats had gone to sleep and Sammy was obviously worn out. Still, she knew he was appreciative because he turned his head just once and licked her face.

“I’d let you sleep on the bed, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said as she gathered up all the wet towels. “Snowball tends to be the jealous sort. Sorry about that.” Back in the kitchen, she made a comfortable bed out of an old blanket. The dog immediately curled up on it, sighed and closed his eyes.

“Night, Sammy,” she said with a yawn and turned off the light.

Exhausted, Macy fell asleep right away and woke with the alarm. The sun was shining through the bedroom window and onto her face. Her cats had settled, the three of them, on her pillows, surrounding her head.

Snowball jumped down and left the room. Macy assumed he’d gone to investigate whether Sammy was still in the house. A couple of minutes later she heard him voice his opinion of their houseguest and then race back, yowling a long list of complaints.

“He isn’t staying,” she promised. “He’s lost. How would
you
feel if you were lost?”

In response, Snowball turned his back and ignored her completely.

“Fine, if that’s how you’re going to be.”

Macy dressed in white jeans and an olive-green sweater, then ran a brush—not the one she’d used on Sammy—through her tangle of red curls. The makeup people would see to her hair and face later. This assignment, a photo shoot for a yarn company catalog, was scheduled for eleven. Radio was more fun, but the money she made from modeling put food in the cats’ dishes.

She let Sammy into the yard, where he relieved himself against the fence—good thing Harvey wasn’t out yet. A moment later he came back in and she refilled bowls and made a pot of coffee. Taking her cup, she wandered outside, which was part of her morning ritual. Sammy was busy wolfing down his breakfast.

Harvey had come into the backyard by now, a hoe in his hands, weeding his garden. She sat down on the step, savoring the cool spring air.

“Good morning, Harvey,” she greeted him cheerfully.

He ignored her and continued hoeing. After a minute or two he muttered, “Don’t see anything good about it. Seems like every other morning to me.”

“I had company last night,” she told him.

“Anybody I know?”

“Don’t think so. He’s a real sweetheart, though.”

Harvey straightened and leaned against the hoe. He frowned. “You hiding a man inside your little house?”

“Definitely a male.”

“I suppose you took in another stray. How many cats are you feeding, anyway? Your grandmother would be shocked if she knew you’ve turned her home into a cat house.” He grumbled some other remark that she couldn’t quite hear.

“I need a favor.”

“Can’t do it,” he said and returned to weeding his garden. He lowered his hat over his eyes as if to shut her out completely.

“It’s not a cat,” she said as she walked to the fence and
sipped her coffee. Sammy needed a place to stay until she could locate his owner or find a new one, and Harvey needed a friend. As far as she was concerned, it was meant to be. A perfect match.

“I’ll bet it isn’t a man, either,” Harvey said. “Now
that’s
something you could use. I don’t understand what’s wrong with you.”

Admittedly, she had problems with relationships. She’d dated lots of men and even fallen in love a time or two. But eventually the men in her life seemed to grow disenchanted with her. They found her too disorganized, too eccentric, too impulsive. Initially her unconventional nature appealed to them, but then they decided they wanted a more “nine-to-five kind of woman,” as one of them had put it.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

He snorted.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Not.”

“I’m counting on you, Harvey.”

“Don’t care, I’m not doing it. You aren’t getting me involved in one of your schemes, so don’t even ask.”

Sammy poked his head out the back door and padded carefully down the four back steps.

“Harvey, meet Sammy,” she said, gesturing toward the dog.

Harvey glanced in her direction, then rolled his eyes. “It isn’t bad enough that you’re feeding cats. Now you’ve added a dog to your menagerie.”

“He’s a stray. Look at him. Doesn’t he just melt your heart?”

“Are you the one who gave him that ridiculous haircut?”

“I didn’t have a choice, his hair was so matted.”

“You bathed him, too?”

“I had to. He was filthy.”

“Probably infested with fleas.”

“Probably, but I got rid of them last night.”

“So you say.”

“Listen, I have to leave in a few minutes. I’m doing a photo shoot for that yarn company I was telling you about. They need me for hair and makeup at ten.”

“Don’t let me hold you up. Go.” He waved her away.

“I can’t leave Sammy here alone.”

“Why not?”

Macy edged her way along the fence line, following him as he hoed. “Snowball’s taken a dislike to him.”

“At least one of your cats shows some intelligence.”

“Harvey, will you watch him while I’m gone? Please?”

He shook his head emphatically. “Not me.”

“It’ll only be for a couple of hours.”

“Tie him up in your backyard.”

Macy had already considered that option. “How would you like a rope around your neck?” Unfortunately the yard wasn’t fully enclosed.

Harvey didn’t respond.

“Sammy’s lost and frightened.”

“I’d be frightened, too, if I had Snowball giving me the evil eye.”

“Two hours,” she murmured pleadingly. “Three at the most.”

“Ten.”

“Ten what?”

“Hours. I know how you operate, Macy Roth. You have no concept of time. One hour or six—it’s all the same to you. I am not looking after that dog, so you might as well accept it right now.”

Sammy ambled over to the fence and stared up at Harvey.

“Don’t
you
start.” He pointed an accusing finger at the dog, then turned to Macy. “Did you teach him to look at me like I’m his last friend in the world?”

“When would I have had time for that?”

“Go back inside because you’re wasting your breath. I’m no babysitter to a flea-infested mutt.”

She bent down and whispered to Sammy.

“What did you just tell that mangy dog?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, you did,” he insisted. “I saw your lips move.”

“If you must know, I told him not to pay any attention and to just go on over and visit.”

Harvey buried the hoe in the freshly turned dirt. “Why is it you ignore everything I say? I don’t know why I even bother to talk to you.”

“Because you love me.”

“No, I don’t. Now kindly leave an old man alone.”

“Can’t do that. Sorry. I guess I’ll call and cancel my part in the photo shoot.”

Harvey removed his hat and wiped his brow. “That trick isn’t going to work this time, so you can forget it. I don’t care if you lose your job.” He wagged his index finger at her.
“And you aren’t moving in with me if you lose your grandmother’s house, either. I refuse to let you blackmail me.”

“Not to worry, I told Sammy to stay here and keep an eye on you.”

Harvey scowled. “If he’s on your side of the fence, it’s fine. But I don’t want him digging in my garden.”

“I’ll make sure he knows to wait right here and I’ll tell him to look after you, too.”

“You do that, because if he sets one paw on my land, I’m calling the dogcatcher.”

“Harvey, you wouldn’t.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Macy rolled her eyes. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Whatever.”

“Look after him for me, Harvey.”