Sit! Stay! Speak! (3 page)

T
WO DAYS LATER
, A
DDIE SAT IN THE WAITING ROOM OF THE
Dixon Veterinary Clinic. This was the day she was picking up the dog she'd found—the dog she thought would surely die.

“Addie!”

Addie looked up. Wanda waved her over to the reception desk.

“Addie, honey, how are you?” Wanda flipped her rust-colored hair behind one shoulder. “I'm sorry I had to skedaddle the other night. My four-year-old was driving the babysitter crazy.”

“Oh, that's okay.”

“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” Wanda leaned over the desk excitedly. “Do you want to go to the county fair with me and Bryar?”

Addie furrowed her brow and replied, “Who's Bryar?”

“Oh, Lord. I'm sorry. That's my son!”

Addie searched for an excuse not to go. It didn't seem like a good idea to make friends when she wouldn't even be in town
more than a few months. Friends meant connections and connections meant growing roots, which was certainly
not
Addie's first plan. “I really have a lot of work to do at the house, and I shouldn't leave a puppy alone, should I?”

“Well, it ain't gonna take a week,” Wanda replied. “Besides, it'll be fun. Old Man Alcee makes the best funnel cakes this side of the Mississippi.”

A funnel cake did sound pretty good. “Sure,” Addie said finally. “But just for an hour or two.”

“Great!” Wanda clapped her hands together. “I'll take you on back to get your pup. He's perked up some since you last saw him.”

Addie followed Wanda into a sea of barking dogs. At the end of the hallway, Wanda pushed through a set of doors, and they were surrounded by kennels.

“This is where we board dogs that are staying with us,” Wanda yelled over the noise. “Your little guy is back here somewhere.”

Addie was anxious. She hoped she was doing the right thing by taking this dog home.
Of course,
she thought,
what are my options? Let him die?

Toward the back of the room, Wanda opened up a kennel and reached inside. “Come on, buddy.”

Addie held out her hands. Wanda handed him to her, and in that instant, Addie was in love. He shivered underneath her arms, and Addie nuzzled him and whispered, “It's okay now. It's all okay now.”

When Addie got home with the dog, she carried him inside and placed him gingerly down on the dog bed she'd bought the day before. He was still shaking, and Addie was desperate to make him comfortable.

“Please don't shake like that. I won't hurt you.”

She sat back. He was just a puppy, but Addie knew that by the size of his paws, she probably shouldn't be able to see each of his ribs beneath the skin. He needed to gain weight. There were several places on his body that had been stitched up, and the damaged ear had been repaired, leaving half of it. Every inch of his body seemed to be covered with a scratch or a stitch. Despite his pitiful appearance, his black-and-white coloring was beautiful. He had a little black circle around one eye on his otherwise white face and muzzle. She wanted to pet him but was afraid she'd hurt him—so much of him was broken open and raw.

She stroked the top of his head, staring at his mangled ear. It looked like it had been torn off. Several places on his skin had bite wounds and tear marks. It didn't make any sense to her. Why had someone shot him? Why had someone dumped him? More importantly, why had Dr. Dixon not seemed surprised to see a dog in such terrible shape?

Addie realized it wasn't just the pain of the stitches that was causing him to shake. It wasn't just the new house, the new bed, the new surroundings. He was terrified of her. He was terrified of what she might do to him. She thought about everything she'd heard about pit bulls over the years—the locking jaws, their genetic predisposition to be vicious, and how many communities had banned them. After she'd left the wounded puppy at the clinic, she'd rushed home and done some research on pit bulls, and she now knew enough to know that the first two, at least, weren't true at all. Looking at him, at his sweet face, she couldn't imagine that he would hurt anyone.

It was then that she noticed he was no longer shaking. He had fallen asleep beneath her touch. “I think I'll call you Felix,” she whispered. “That name means ‘lucky' and that is for sure what
you are.” Addie was ecstatic to have found Felix. She could always take him back to Chicago with her when she was done selling her aunt's house, but she was happy that she wouldn't be totally alone while she was here. Even with the bite marks and half an ear missing, he was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

She thought about what “back to Chicago” really meant. Most of her friends were married with children and living in the suburbs, something she and Jonah swore they'd never do after they got married—leave the city. Yet here she was, miles away from everything and everyone she loved. Jonah wasn't with her. She was alone.

Addie glanced down at Felix. Well, maybe she wasn't entirely alone. Maybe this dog was kindred. He looked an awful lot on the outside like she felt on the inside. She had a feeling that Felix wasn't the only dog to have been dumped bleeding and struggling for his life. There was something fishy going on in the town of Eunice, and Adelaide Andrews was determined to get to the bottom of it, but first she had to get ready to meet Wanda since she'd agreed to go to the fair with her and her son. There had been no use trying to get out of it—she'd figured out quickly that Wanda was not a woman to be argued with when she made her mind up about something.

She checked the time on her cell phone and stood awkwardly in front of the bathroom mirror. Just like almost everything else in the house, the mirror was a throwback to another time—another life. She remembered standing in front of this mirror every day the summer she was twelve, wishing she was back home in Chicago with her mother. But now Chicago meant old memories; it meant Jonah. She shook the memories from her head and began to focus on tonight. And tonight, she looked okay, she guessed.
Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her thick, blunt bangs fell across her forehead, resting just above her eyes. She liked her hair this way—it pretty much always looked the same, but that meant there was less of a chance she could mess it up. She was wearing a blue-and-white gingham sundress with her favorite pair of white Chuck Taylors. Addie loved the way the sundress pushed up her boobs, which were her favorite feature. She was five foot five and a curvy size eight, but she had the breasts of a larger woman. Most of the time she kept them at least partially hidden beneath a cardigan, but it was too hot for all of that tonight. Besides, it wasn't as if she had an actual date, so she didn't know why it mattered so much to her what she looked like, but she was satisfied with her appearance nonetheless.

Addie looked down from the mirror when she heard her phone ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, hon. It's Wanda. Bryar and I are here. Come on out.”

Addie padded into the living room where Felix was asleep. She hadn't realized that a puppy could sleep so much, although a call to Dr. Dixon eased her concern. He'd told her that it was probably the first time Felix had a warm bed and food to eat. From the looks of him, he'd spent all of his short life outside, fighting for just about anything he could get to eat. He hadn't really moved since she'd brought him home. She'd taken to carrying him outside because he wouldn't walk around while she was watching him. His eyes were still so wide and frightened. Addie hoped he'd be okay for a few hours while she was gone. She put down a few old newspapers just in case he couldn't wait until she got home. She wasn't sure what to expect from him just yet. She just hoped the couch was safe. She'd heard horror stories about dogs tearing
up furniture and flooring, doors, and even windows. Adding to her list of fixes around her house wasn't her idea of a good time. She slipped out the front door, locking it behind her. She waved to Wanda and hurried out to the car.

“Hey!” Wanda shifted her huge Bonneville into drive.

Addie reached for the seat belt, and replied, “Hey! Thanks for picking me up. I know this is a small town, but I probably never would have found the fairgrounds.”

“Addie, this is Bryar.” Wanda gestured to the freckled redhead sitting in a booster seat in the back.

The little boy waved at Addie. “Hi. I'm four.”

“Hi, Bryar,” Addie replied. “I'm twenty-seven.”

“My mom is older than you” was his response.

“Not by much, kiddo.” Wanda snorted. “I'm just thirty.”

“You don't look thirty,” Addie said. “Of course, I don't know what a thirty-year-old is supposed to look like.”

“Me either,” Wanda replied. “I don't know how they're supposed to act, either. I live with a four-year-old. Other than the clinic, this is the first adult interaction I've had in months! Oh, the joys of single parenting.”

“Are you and his dad D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D?” Addie spelled out the word, not wanting to trigger a reaction from the backseat. When Wanda didn't answer right away, she added, “I'm sorry. That's totally none of my business.”

“Oh, no, no.” Wanda waved her off. “It's fine. We were never married. His daddy is actually in P-R-I-S-O-N.”

Addie sat back in her seat. “Oh . . . I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. He's an S-O-B.” Wanda winked. “As long as he stays where he is, everything is gravy, baby!”

From the backseat, Bryar dissolved into a fit of giggles, repeating, “It's gravy, baby!” over and over.

Addie and Wanda both began to laugh and Addie felt herself relax for the first time in weeks. Maybe she could go out with Wanda from time to time. A little friendship wasn't going to hurt anything, was it?

B
Y THE TIME
W
ANDA PULLED INTO THE GRASSY LOT AT THE
fairgrounds, it was almost full. A man wearing a bright orange vest directed them to the nearest spot.

“Is this the parking lot?” Addie asked. “The grass?”

“Yep,” Wanda replied. “All the spots on the dirt are already taken. I hate parking in this grass. It ain't been mowed in weeks. Watch out for chiggers.”

“Chiggers?”

“Yeah, you know, chiggers.”

“I don't know what a chigger is.”

Wanda laughed over her shoulder at Addie. “I keep forgetting you're a Yankee.”

“I'm from Chicago. That's the Midwest.” Addie followed Wanda and Bryar into the throng of people, trying to forget she'd ever heard the word
chigger.
Ahead of them, the fair stretched out in a hazy display of cotton candy and dirt. Looking down at her shoes, she realized that white had not been the right choice.

“What do you want to ride first?” Wanda asked her son, looking down at him as they approached the ticket booth. “Anything but the Ferris wheel.”

“Mama! That's my favorite!”

“No, sir,” Wanda replied. “You puke every time.”

Addie scanned the crowd looking for a food cart. The more she thought about eating a funnel cake, the more her mouth watered. There was a white cart to the right of where she was standing. “While you two duke it out, I'm going to go get a funnel cake.”

As Addie walked toward the cart, she noticed two men standing off to the side. They were arguing feverishly. One of the men, tall and broad, was waving his hands in the air as he spoke. He was bald, and the russet-colored skin on the top of his head was glistening with sweat.

The other man, the smaller of the two, cowered as the bigger man loomed over him. He had skin the consistency of glue, the liquid kind school children used, and it was about the same color. The closer Addie got to the food cart, the more she noticed the pockmarks covering the second man's face.

Addie strained to hear what they were saying.

“You owe me money,” the first man growled. “You need to pay me my money.”

The second man rubbed his hands on his filthy jeans and replied, “C'mon, man. You know I don't have it. I need more time.”

“I don't got the time you need.” The first man's voice was low and controlled. “You know better than to come to me making bets your ass can't cash.”

The second man dug his shoe into the dirt.

The first man watched him, wrapping his hands around a package
of cigarettes and then dropping the crumpled package to the ground. He put the last cigarette to his lips and let out a long sigh, and his face relaxed. Then he put one of his massive hands onto the second man's shoulder. “How about you do me a favor instead, huh?”

The second man slumped under the weight of the hand. “What do you want me to do?”

“We'll talk about that later.” The first man pushed the second man forward, and they began to walk.

They neared Addie, and they were coming at her fast. The little man knocked right into her as he tried to keep up with the bigger man. “I'm sorry, missus,” the little man said. He glanced in her direction but wouldn't look her in the eye.

“Watch where yer going!” the big man boomed. He caught Addie's eye. He kept her gaze but said nothing else. His dark eyes bored into her.

They were gone before Addie could respond. She waved to Wanda in the distance and yelled, “I thought you said Bryar couldn't ride the Ferris wheel.” She hurried up to her friend, eager to shake the two men and their odd conversation from her memory.

“His friend Timmy wants to ride it, too.” Wanda popped a piece of funnel cake into her mouth. “Maybe this will be my lucky year. Let's walk around for a little while. Bryar's going to be with Timmy and his mom for a while.”

Addie followed Wanda as she began to head toward the outline of the fairground, where all the booths were set up. “How can it be so hot at five o'clock at night?” she mused, accepting a fan from one of the political candidates that had set up shop. “It feels like my back is sliding down onto my legs.”

“Oh, honey, don't use that.” Wanda plucked the fan from Addie's hands. “You don't want people to think you'd vote for him.”

“I'm trying not to die of heatstroke.”

“Walter Lee put his mama in a home last summer and moved his twenty-year-old child bride into his mama's house,” Wanda drawled. “He said it was because his mama has Alzheimer's, but everybody knows it was because she didn't like his new wife.”

“Was all of that on the back of the fan or something?”

“You'll thank me later.”

All around Addie the fair buzzed. Nobody seemed to be bothered by the heat or the dust or the smell of fried everything. Women pushed baby strollers through the clumpy grass and over power cords. Children with faces covered in sweat and cotton candy ran past the slow-moving adults. Somehow, despite the noise, the cicadas could still be heard chirping their early evening prelude.

Suddenly Addie noticed that Jasper Floyd was standing three booths away. His head was bent low, talking to the man sitting in front of a sign that read
FLOYD FARMS
.

Did he ever change clothes? Or shave? Addie was sure he was wearing the same thing he had been wearing both times she'd seen him before tonight—his uniform of mud-caked boots, jeans, and a white T-shirt. His face had not seen a razor in days. This time he was wearing a green cap as well. It also read
FLOYD FARMS
.

Jasper looked up and caught her staring at him. He gave her a slow smile before returning to his conversation. Although his eyes stayed on her for a bit longer before he gave his full attention back to the man in front of him.

“Well, look who's smiling at you, Adelaide.” Wanda gave Addie a playful jab in the ribs.

“Why wouldn't he smile? Isn't that polite?”

“I've known him since elementary school, and he's never smiled at me,” Wanda replied. “Jasper Floyd is the most serious man I've ever met.”

Addie looked down at the empty paper plate she was carrying. “He caught me staring at him. I'm pretty sure he was obligated to smile at me.”

“He was a lawyer, you know,” Wanda continued. “Had his own practice in Memphis.”

“Then what's he doing here?”

“Well”—Wanda's green eyes danced with excitement—“his daddy got real sick last year and can't run the farm all by himself anymore. And there was no way Jack Floyd was gonna sell that farm to anybody. No way. So Jasper came home to help take care of business. Been here ever since.”

“No wonder he never smiles.”

“Well, he's smiling at you.” Wanda linked her arm through Addie's. “Let's go talk to him. Who knows? Maybe you can even make him laugh.

“Hey, Jasper,” Wanda called out. “How's it going?”

“Same as always, Wanda.” Jasper shifted on his feet, folding his arms across his chest. “How are you two tonight?”

“We're great,” Wanda replied before Addie could open her mouth. “I haven't seen your mom too much around town lately. How's she doing?”

Jasper stiffened. “Mom doesn't get out much anymore. She spends most of her time taking care of Dad.”

Addie watched him. He was curious to her—he didn't talk like any farmer she knew. Which she admitted weren't too many. He had perfect posture and perfect teeth, and Addie wondered what
else was perfect and lurking underneath his purposely rumpled exterior.

“Addie?”

Jasper and Wanda were staring at her. “Huh? What?”

“Jasper asked you if you'd gotten your showerhead put in,” Wanda said.

“Oh!” Addie's face flushed. “No. Not yet.”

“Mommy!” Bryar ran up to Wanda and tugged at her purse strap. “Guess what?”

Wanda reached down and lifted him up onto her hip, and replied, “What, honey?”

“I rided the Ferris wheel three times and didn't get sick! Three times!”

“That's great, baby!”

“Mommy?”

Wanda placed him back on his feet. “What?”

“Uh-oh.”

Addie jumped back as a tidal wave of vomit flew out of Bryar's mouth and on the ground in front of them and all over Wanda's shoes.

“Oh, Bryar! Yuck!”

“Sorry.” Spit dangled from Bryar's bottom lip.

“It's okay, baby. It's okay. I think we probably better go home.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Wanda turned to Addie and said, “I'm sorry. I don't think the B-Man needs to be riding anything else tonight.”

“Oh, that's okay,” Addie replied. “I think I've seen just about all I need to see, anyway.”

“Come on, baby,” Wanda whispered to Bryar. She picked him up.

“Are you sure you have time to take me home?” Addie asked, following after them.

“I can take you home, Adelaide,” Jasper said. “I'm headed out anyway. I need to get home before it gets dark.”

“Thanks, Jasper,” Wanda called over her shoulder. “You're a lifesaver.” She headed off toward the grassy parking lot, Bryar's head lolling on one of her shoulders.

“Wanda didn't even wait for you to change your mind,” Addie said.

Jasper gave Addie a crooked smile. “I've found that Wanda very rarely waits for anything.”

“So,” Addie said. “You and Wanda went to school together?”

Jasper nodded. “We did. She was a couple of years behind me.”

“So you're . . .” Addie trailed off.

“Thirty-four,” Jasper finished.

“Oh,” Addie replied. She was starting to feel the conversation going nowhere. “I'll be twenty-eight in July.”

They continued to walk in silence until Jasper stopped in front of a hulking John Deere tractor. “Here we are. Climb on up.”

Addie glanced around the parking lot. Maybe Jasper was talking to someone else. “You want me to do what?”

“The tractor. Climb on up.”

“On the tractor?”

Jasper took hold of the side and pulled himself up. “Come on. There's plenty of room inside.”

“You drove a tractor to the fair?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Are you going to climb up here or not? I don't have all night.”

Addie grabbed Jasper's outstretched hand. “I don't think I'm dressed for this.”

“There's no law that says you have to be wearing overalls,” Jasper replied. His tone was gruff, but he was smiling down at her.

“I don't think I've ever ridden in a tractor before.”

“Well, then, Miss Addie, you've not lived.”

Addie situated herself inside the cab of the tractor next to Jasper. The engine started with a lurch and Addie grabbed onto the bottom of the seat. “Is this the way you get around town? I can't imagine this is economical.”

“Most days you'll find me driving a 1970 Ford Bronco Sport.”

“Fancy.”

“It's my baby,” Jasper replied. “All original. My dad gave it to me when I was fifteen.”

“I got a 1989 LeBaron when I got my license,” Addie said.

“At least you got to drive it,” Jasper continued. “I wasn't allowed to take the thing off the farm until I left for college.”

“Well, then why did your dad even give it to you?”

Jasper's grip on the tractor wheel tightened. “That's just my dad.”

They bounced along, quiet twilight hanging between them. Jasper didn't look over at Addie for what felt like hours. She thought that she probably could have walked home faster than the tractor was moving. Cars passed them on both sides, and occasionally Jasper pulled over to let a stream of vehicles pass.

“I picked up Felix from Dr. Dixon today.” Addie broke the silence. “He's doing much better.”

“You named him Felix, eh?” Jasper asked. “That's not a bad name. I'm glad he's better. He looked pretty rough the other night.”

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What kind of a person shoots a dog and throws him in the trash?”

Jasper stopped at the top of Addie's street. The tractor gave an exhausted sigh as he cut the engine. “I don't think I can get down your street. You may have to walk from here.”

“That's okay,” Addie replied. “But you didn't answer my question.”

“The kind of person with no regard for the life of another living being.”

“I can't understand it.”

“I'm glad you can't understand it.
You
should be glad you can't understand it.” Jasper jumped down and walked around to help Addie out of the cab. “I can walk you the rest of the way.”

“That's all right. I'm not far from here.”

“I've been to your house before,” Jasper said. “Your aunt Tilda made the best fried pies in the state.”

“I wish I'd also inherited her skills in the kitchen,” Addie said. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

Addie bent down to scratch at her leg. It felt like something was biting at her ankles. “Hey, Jasper,” she called after him.

“Yeah?”

“What's a chigger?”