The Dog That Saved Stewart Coolidge (11 page)

The interview with Lisa lasted nearly three minutes, which was, by TV standards, a long interview.

“You're funny, too,” Stewart said, and Lisa squeezed his hand in response.

Then the scene shifted to Bill Hoskins' car lot—for just a brief shot of him by his new sign that had already been wind torn and patched with gray duct tape. A brief shot of Mr. Grback, the editor of the
Gazette
, followed, in which he scowled until Lisa's name came up and then he said it was all “charming.”

Then came an outside shot of the market, which was interrupted by Ms. Orlando touting an exclusive of the “canine thievery as it happened!”

Stewart's video of Hubert taking the bone, smiling, and taking off down the aisle was shown three times while Ms. Orlando talked about it.

Hubert looked up when Lisa pointed at the TV with her free hand.

“That's you, Hubert. You're on TV.”

Hubert stared but did not make the connection between the flat, flickering, two-dimensional image on the screen and himself.

Mr. Arden had a twelve-second snippet, in which he said, “All dogs that steal should be locked up and the key thrown away.”

And the segment ended with Heather in front of the market, wrapping the story up, ending with a chuckle and a wide, toothy smile.

“I saw you in the background, Stewart. The camera panned around. I think I saw your back.”

“Might have been me,” Stewart replied. “Maybe.”

The station's news anchors came back on.

“Delightful story, Heather,” one said.

The other added, “You'll have to keep us posted on the investigation—and if they track the dog down.”

Then they went to a commercial.

Lisa exhaled, loudly, squeezed Stewart's hand one more time, then stood up, obviously excited and simply needing to move because of that excitement.

“That was great, wasn't it?”

Stewart stood as well, and Lisa more or less launched herself at him, giving him a happy hug of congratulations.

And then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her. Later on, when he replayed the scene in his mind, he couldn't remember exactly how they wound up kissing each other. It was not for long, though not a short peck, either. Then they broke apart, both of them more embarrassed than not, Lisa looking up at him, sheepish, and Stewart looking down, disoriented, happy, but disoriented, and Hubert bouncing around their legs as if this was the perfect end to whatever that was on the glowing box they both had watched.

Within minutes of the totally unexpected kiss Lisa excused herself, saying that her mother was going to call and she just had to talk with her about today's events.

Stewart said he understood, of course, and stood at the top of the stairs until she got inside her apartment. She looked back, for a glance, smiled, and then slipped inside and out of view.

Stewart touched his lips, gently, as if making sure what happened had actually happened.

No girl has ever initiated a kiss before. Not that I'm experienced with this sort of thing. She did, didn't she? And it was unusual. Wasn't it? Or have I just been living under a rock for the past ten years? Do girls do that now?

Hubert noisily lapped up another drink and then circled the rug a few times and lay down.

“We'll have to go outside tonight, won't we?”

At this Hubert bounded up and ran to the door, looking back at his human.

“I don't have a leash and you don't have a collar—so you have to promise to stay near me, okay?”

Hubert appeared to nod and began his let-me-out-for-a-walk dance.

Stewart grabbed his cell phone. Not that he expected a call, but one never knew.

“We have to be real quiet going down the steps. Okay, Hubert?”

Hubert appeared to nod again, and slowly, and carefully, made his way down the steps, making sure each paw hit the center of the ragged and worn carpet runner.

When they were outside, Stewart said, “Let's go this way, away from town. It's darker this way and there's less traffic. But then there's never much traffic around this town after dark.”

The two of them walked, Hubert keeping pace, veering off every so often to examine some scent or another, never becoming more distant than ten feet or so.

As they walked, Stewart's phone warbled. He recognized the number. Hubert turned his head as Stewart said “Hello,” obviously not understanding the function of a cell phone.

“Hi, Dad. How are you?”

“Crappy. Like always. Nothing changes. Always the same.”

And just how do I respond to that? Do I say “That's nice”?

“Saw that story about the dog on the news. That's the store where you work, isn't it?”

“It is.”

“They talk to you? That Heather What's-her-name reporter? The one that always wears pink?”

Maybe that's why Lisa was wearing a pink scarf.

“No. Just the store manager. And the girl who wrote the story for the newspaper.”

“Figures. No one I know ever catches a break.”

“It's okay, Dad. I thought it was a cute story.”

It doesn't matter what I call it. Whatever I say it was, he'll say the opposite.

“Cute story? It was stupid. And they should just put a cop outside to shoot the dog the next time he comes. Watching it was a waste of my time.”

What do I say now?

“Well, I just wanted to see if that was your store. You still bagging groceries?”

“I am. But I keep looking for other jobs.”

“Well, good luck. This economy is in a cesspool, if you ask me. Should have bought gold when I wanted to and not listened to your mother. I'd be on Easy Street right now. Her fault that I still have to get up every morning for this stupid job.”

“I know. Hard to time the markets, I guess.”

“You guess right on that, Stewie. Well, I gotta go. Just wanted to see if that was where you work. You take care, okay. You come up this way, we'll get coffee or something. Or hoist a cold one. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Stewart stopped walking, ended the call, slipped the phone back into his pocket, and took a deep breath. Then another.

Maybe a few more will get my blood pressure back to normal.

Hubert came over to him after scratching around at the base of a large oak tree and looked up. The moonlight caught Hubert full on and there was a most plaintive expression on his face, like he was attempting to commiserate with Stewart, or offer some emotional comfort.

“It gets tricky, Hubert. Very tricky.”

Hubert appeared to nod.

“Thanks for understanding, though.”

And Hubert yelped, just a little, just softly, and as empathetic as a dog yelp can be.

“Wasn't it great, Mom?” Lisa gushed as she talked with her mother while walking around her apartment. She was too wound up to sit still.

And that kiss…what was that all about?

“She seems really down to earth. I know she wears a lot of makeup, but they have to when they're on TV, I guess. And she gave me her card and said to e-mail my résumé to her and that she would send it around to people that she knows. This could really be a huge break for me. And it's all because of Stewart.”

”Who?” her mother asked.

“You know, Stewart. He lives upstairs. You met him when you helped me move in. Tall, dark hair, intense eyes. He's just a nice guy, you know. Normal.”

“Lisa, you're not rushing into anything again, are you? Remember what happened last time. You need to be careful. I love that you want to trust, but there are a lot of people, young men especially, who will take advantage of that.”

Lisa glanced out the window overlooking the street as her mother talked and saw Stewart looking about furtively. Then Hubert came into view. Lisa smiled.

“Yes, Mother. I will be careful. I know what happened last time. You told me like a thousand times already. Okay? That I was too much in a hurry. Okay. I got it. But this is different. Stewart goes to church. He has a Verse-a-Day calendar on his counter.”

“You were in his apartment?”

She took a deep breath.

“Not like that. I was only up there for a minute. I had to ask him a couple of questions. He works at that store so he saw everything.”

“A minute this time. But that's how these things start. And if he lives just upstairs, things could get out of hand far more quickly than you want them to.”

Lisa leaned against the kitchen counter. “I know. But we're just friends. It won't be like before. And I am over twenty-one, you know.”

“I know. I just don't want to see you hurt. You're still my little girl, no matter how old you are.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes, Mom. But what happened the last time will not happen again. I've told you that like a thousand times. I learned my lesson. I don't want to get hurt, and I don't want to hurt you again, Mom. And I promised I won't. I'll be careful. I won't let this get complicated. But he seems like a nice guy. We might even go to church together this Sunday.”

“That's…nice. But—okay, I won't start up again. Just, please be careful.”

She looked out the window again and Stewart and Hubert had slipped out of view. “I will, Mom. And thanks for getting so excited over this story. It means a lot to me. It could be the start of a career—who knows?”

“It's worth getting excited about. I love you, sweetheart. And I'm so proud of you!”

The street remained deserted.

“I love you, too. Thanks.”

They had walked five blocks, away from downtown, and the last street lamp they passed was now a block distant. While Stewart was not unnaturally afraid of the dark, he wasn't all that fond of it, either. As if sensing his discomfort, Hubert walked next to him, almost at heel, back toward the more well-lit sections of the residential area of Wellsboro.

“Good dog, Hubert,” Stewart said, and Hubert responded by rubbing his head along the side of Stewart's leg.

Then his phone warbled again.

Twice in one night?

“Hello, Grams,” he said, doing his best to keep his tone neutral and his breathing calm, as if he were sitting in his apartment doing a crossword puzzle. She would not understand the truth of this evening—that a girl had kissed him, that he was out for a walk near midnight, and that he had a dog living in his apartment.

None of that would make sense to her.

“I saw the story on that horrid dog on TV, Stewart. Well, on the computer. In the community room. They have computers. I told you that I couldn't afford one of those gizmos, didn't I? I had to go walk there, in the dark, to see it. They show the news on the computer. News from anywhere, I think.”

“How did you know it was on TV?”

“Edna called me. You know her. Edna from the Cut 'n' Curl. She said her husband saw the TV van or something in town. She called me because she knows you work at the grocery store. Her grandson is a teacher, did you know that? Over in Scranton. Why don't you look at getting a teaching position?”

“I don't think so, Grams.”

“So you're content with bagging groceries, is that it?”

“No, Grams. I'm looking. You know that.”

“Don't get snippy, Stewart. I'm just trying to help.”

Stewart remained silent.

“That blonde girl the reporter interviewed—is that the one you mentioned? The little twig of a girl?”

“She's not a twig, and yes, that is the one I mentioned.”

He heard his grandmother sniff dismissively. “I thought she wore too much makeup. And that blouse…it was very tight, if you ask me. She doesn't look like a girl you should be interested in, Stewart.”

Keep calm. Keep calm. It does no good to argue.

“I'm not ‘interested' in her,” Stewart lied. “She's a friend. She lives downstairs.”

“How convenient for the two of you.”