Cara Lockwood - Practicing Parenthood

Collin headed to the kitchen, where he found a refrigerator empty of everything except a bottle of ketchup and a cabinet that had coffee filters but zero coffee. He hadn’t expected to be staying alone or in this house. He’d imagined being wrapped up in Madison’s arms...or at the very least, sharing a meal with her. He hadn’t brought groceries, and now he realized he’d probably have to go to the small convenience store near the pool for supplies, or simply eat out every meal. He groaned.

Peering up at the line of windows, he looked out on the treetops below and Madison’s backyard. When he opened the sliding glass door, he could see all of Madison’s yard from the porch on, since the first floor of the house was raised a story and a half above the ground. He went out onto the wooden deck barefoot and shirtless, wearing only his sleep shorts. Just then, he saw Madison emerge from a path near the shrubs carrying a watering can. She walked leisurely to a couple of potted plants nearby, where she watered some blooming bright pink flowers.

Collin watched for a second, risking the chance that she might look up and see him. Madison’s dark hair hung loose past her shoulders, her eyes focused on the task. Usually, she wore her hair up in a tight bun in the courtroom. He remembered that on the night they’d shared he’d run his hands through it, and it had been thicker than he’d imagined. He could tell that she wore no makeup and just a pair of gym shorts and a tank top, but the sun hit her glowing skin in a manner that made her seem younger than thirty. He wanted to touch that smooth skin again, almost forgetting what it had felt like. Damn those drinks that fogged my memory, he thought. She moved gently, easily. Was she a little thicker around the middle? He wasn’t sure, although, she did seem softer somehow, her curves curvier. He tried to see where a baby bump might be forming, but saw nothing except a perfect figure. The woman was breathtaking. That was why she was so impossible to reject that night, he thought. He remembered the way she’d reached up on her tiptoes to kiss him, the energy flowing between them, the attraction neither one could resist.

This woman is carrying my baby. The very idea still shook him.

Then a yellow blur dashed across his peripheral vision. He turned, glanced around the low-lying green leafy trees. What was that? He saw another blur of light colored fur. Yellow? Gray? He couldn’t be sure. Too big to be a cat. A dog? It was close to Madison’s backyard—and she didn’t have a fence. What if it was a rabid dog? A dangerous one? Did they have coyotes on this island? Suddenly, he felt fearful. For Madison. For his baby.

“Madison!” Collin shouted, but she kept her back to him. That was when he saw the white earbuds, their wires trailing from her ears. Dammit! He watched, frozen, as the blur he’d seen in the trees broke free and headed at top speed toward Madison’s turned back. Collin was already on the move, skidding down the wooden steps that led to their shared drive, nearly falling over himself as his bare feet hit the rocky path. He didn’t feel the pricks of the tiny shells and pebbles on the soles of his feet as he sprinted over shrubs and through thorny bushes to Madison’s yard. He heard a loud screech and went faster, breaking through the cover of thick branches in time to see a shaggy yellow dog licking Madison’s face. She was flat on her back, and he had a single paw on her chest. He looked tame, but the adrenaline rushing through Collin’s veins told him she’d been knocked to the ground by this...animal, no matter how adorable he seemed.

“Get off her!” Collin roared and rushed forward to push the dog away.

“Collin!” Madison chastised. “It’s fine... He’s just a puppy.”

“That thing? That’s no puppy!”

“He is,” Madison insisted. “Look at the size of his paws. He’s all clumsy... He’s just a big puppy.”

Collin glanced down at the dog’s enormous paws, oversized for its body. Though, now that he was closer, he saw that the dog was smaller than he’d first thought. He was mostly fur. The dog probably weighed only thirty pounds.

“What if he’s rabid?”

“I’m sure he’s not,” Madison said. He saw that she took notice of his shirtless chest, her eyes momentarily on his torso. Was it his imagination or did her eyes linger there a bit longer than they ought to? Well, let her look. He hadn’t had time to throw on a shirt. He’d thought she was being mauled by a rabid dog.

“He knocked you down.” Collin still felt his heart thudding as he reached out and helped her to her feet. “Are you okay? Is...” He couldn’t even get out the word baby. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” Madison said as she shook a leaf out of her hair, then batted his hands away. “He didn’t knock me down. He surprised me, and I slipped.”

“Same difference.” He shifted, the sandy soil filled with shells poking at his bare feet. “You all right?” he asked once more.

“Fine,” she snapped. “I told you. And what are you even doing here? I thought you went home.”

“You thought wrong. I rented the house next door.”

“Why?”

He heard a note of annoyance in her voice. He was worried about her—was that a crime? For a second, she reminded him of his mother: stoic, stubborn, refusing to admit she ever needed help. The woman would work until she collapsed, never complaining.

“Because we need to talk.”

Before Madison could answer, the shaggy yellow dog barked. He looked like some dog experiment gone wrong. His poofy, curly yellow fur hung in his eyes, and his shaggy coat made him look, at a guess, part poodle and part sheepdog. Or maybe part golden retriever. The little guy had big floppy ears and a long fluffy tail that curled up like the feather on a musketeer’s hat. He wore no collar, and bits of leaves and brush were poking out of his thick fur. Collin had never been much of an animal person—living with a single mom in the Bronx meant he’d never had a dog growing up. His mother barely had enough money to buy them food, much less food for a pet. Collin had spent most of his childhood convincing himself he’d never wanted one, anyway. He studied the dog with suspicion.

Madison, however, leaned down and ran her hands through the dog’s furry head, scratching him behind the ears.

“Who’s a good boy?” she said. “You look just like a teddy bear.”

“If a wolf can look like a teddy bear,” Collin grumbled.

She continued to rub the dog and his back foot instantly began bobbing, as if he was trying to scratch an invisible itch.

“Aw, you’re adorable, yes, you are.” Madison’s voice went high and baby-like, and Collin felt a stab of jealousy. Why did she like this strange little stray mutt more than him?

“He probably has fleas,” he said, noticing how much the dog seemed to appreciate being pet nearly anywhere, as Madison continued massaging his back and he kept moving gleefully to divert her attention to a new spot.

Madison ignored Collin’s remark. “You don’t have a collar,” she said. “Who’s your owner, boy?” She waited patiently as if the dog might answer her.

“You know he can’t speak, right?” Collin pointed out, but Madison just frowned.

“You’re thirsty, aren’t you? And hungry. When was the last time you had a drink?” She shook her head. Why was that her problem? Collin wondered. “Wait with him. Don’t let him leave,” Madison ordered, as she ran up the wooden staircase to her front door.

“But...” Collin didn’t like dogs. Or cats. Or anything with fur and teeth. He stared down at the dog, who had a big pink tongue hanging out its mouth as it panted, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. The dog pushed his nose up against his crotch to sniff.