Susan Mallery - Evening Stars

Just past the men’s room, she saw something move by the trash can on her left. She paused and watched. She saw the movement again. Her stomach clenched when she realized a small dog was huddled by the can.

The animal looked to be maybe twenty or thirty pounds, with matted gray-and-brown fur and big eyes. She could see it was shaking and, as she approached, the dog cowered.

She glanced around, but there were no other cars. The animal looked terrified, torn between running and wanting to be rescued.

“I know the feeling,” she murmured in a low voice as she slowly approached. “It’s okay, little dog. I won’t hurt you.” She crouched down and held out the back of her hand. The animal flinched but didn’t move. She gently touched its shoulder.

The animal shuddered, then seemed to collapse on itself. Averil shifted closer and patted its side. She could feel bones everywhere.

“Oh, honey, you’re starving,” she said, realizing some jackass had simply abandoned the animal. There was no collar, and with the dog sticking close to the rest area, it should have been easy for an owner to find.

She continued to pet the animal, trying to gain its trust. After a few minutes, she stood. “Okay,” she said, patting her leg. “You want to come with me?”

The dog rose and stared at her. It continued to tremble.

“I think we’re close to Medford. I’ll take you to a vet and have you checked out. If you have a chip, we can find your owner. If not, at least you’ll be warm and fed.”

The dog stared at her.

“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m a good person. I’m confused and emotionally stunted, but I won’t hurt you.”

The dog seemed to accept that and walked along with her.

It turned out the animal was too weak to jump into the backseat, so Averil lifted her. She was shocked at how little the dog weighed. She poured water into her hand and the animal drank greedily. She had part of a scone from the Starbucks where she’d stopped earlier, and the dog gulped that down.

When Averil slid behind the wheel, she started the engine and turned up the heat. It only took her a couple of minutes to use her phone to find a vet in Medford. She called and got directions, then drove back onto the highway.

* * *

“She’s about three years old,” the vet—an old guy with a kind expression—told Averil. “I would guess she’s been on her own for a month. She has a few bruises and she’s malnourished. I doubt she’s had a decent meal in that time.”

The technician looked up from the computer. “There aren’t any reports of missing dogs in the area,” she said with a shrug. “Without a chip, there’s no way to find her owners.”

“She was dumped,” the vet said. “Unfortunately, it happens.” He left the room.

Averil stroked the dog huddled on the examination table. The animal had been examined and bathed. She’d also been given a small meal.

“There’s a no-kill shelter in town,” the technician said. “She’s pretty cute and it shouldn’t be long until she’s adopted. You did a good thing, bringing her here. She’ll be fine.”

Averil stared into the dog’s brown eyes. She was white with brown spots after all. Part King Charles Spaniel, the vet had said. Part who-knows-what. She’d endured the exam and the bath without protest and seemed resigned to whatever fate had to offer. Averil knew the most sensible solution was to leave her at the shelter.

She fingered the dog’s soft fur. “I’ll take her,” she said. “Can I do that?”

“Sure.” The other woman smiled. “She seems like a sweetie. Do you know what you’re going to name her?”

“Penny.” Averil touched the dog’s head. “Hey, Penny. Want to come live with me?”

Brown eyes regarded her solemnly.

“You’ll need some food,” the tech said. “We have a brand that’s good for sensitive stomachs. That will help her ease into having regular meals. Feed her about half a cup, four times a day for the first few days. Then you can go to a cup twice a day. Maybe mix in a little canned food. If you want to change brands, do it over time or she could get sick.”

The woman wrote down a few instructions. “Once you get where you’re going, she’ll need to be vaccinated. She’s already been spayed. I think there’s an old collar and leash in the lost and found box. Let me go grab them.”

She left the room. Averil continued to pet Penny. “It’s okay. You’re going to live with me now. I’m pretty sure I can handle a dog.”

Penny stared at her, her expression still fearful, but at least she’d stopped shaking. Soft brown eyes seemed to ask if that was the best Averil could offer.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I need to make a commitment. I will take care of you. I promise.”

The tech returned with a leash and cloth collar, along with a couple of old towels. Averil thanked her, paid the bill and walked to her car. Penny had accepted the collar and leash without complaint and now walked beside her. When they reached the car, Averil opened the back door.

Penny looked from her to the seat.

“Come on, Penny. Can you jump?”

Penny did as requested.

Averil laughed. “Good girl,” she said. “You’re smart, you know that? All right. Let’s make you a bed.”

She folded the towels into squares and placed them on the seat. Then she unfastened the leash. She patted the soft fabric.

“Come on, Penny. This is for you.”

Penny placed one paw on the towel.

“Good girl. Yes, you get comfy for the rest of the drive, okay?”

Penny turned twice on the towels, then laid down with a sigh. Averil stroked her a couple more times before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side. By the time she pulled onto the freeway, the dog was asleep.

* * *

The afternoon had started to wane by the time Averil made her way over the bridge leading to Blackberry Island. Penny had slept for most of the drive north. They’d stopped at a couple of rest stops so they could both use the bathroom, and Averil had given the dog light meals. It turned out that Penny was also a big fan of burgers, so they’d shared lunch at a McDonald’s just south of Portland.

Now they were nearly done with their drive.

Averil was both relieved and oddly tense as she took in the familiar sights on the island where she’d grown up. As a kid she’d ridden her bike over nearly every foot of road here and had explored vineyards and coasts. She’d swum in the ocean, eaten at most of the restaurants and stands and knew at least one kid from all the local families.

Blackberry Island had always been home. It was the place that made the most sense to her. It was where she always knew who she was.

She supposed that was part of the problem. In Mischief Bay she had many roles. She was a reporter, a writer, a wife. In Mischief Bay, she was a grown-up. Here she was Nina’s little sister. Bonnie’s youngest. There weren’t expectations.

In her head she knew that running back home wasn’t exactly a testament to her maturity, but she could live with that. The truth was, somewhere along the way, she’d gotten lost, and now she didn’t know what she wanted.

About a mile from the house, she pulled off the main road and parked by the beach. She collected Penny’s leash and walked around to the passenger-side back door. Penny sat up, waiting for her. Her long tail thumped steadily.

“So you like me now, do you?” Averil asked with a grin. “It was the burger, wasn’t it?”

She clipped on the leash, then stepped back. Penny jumped to the ground and started to sniff.

“There’s a doggie area over there,” Averil said as she pointed to the square of gravel just off the beach.

Penny used the facilities, then the two of them went for a walk along the rocky sand. The air was warm, the sun bright in the sky. Due west was the Strait of Juan de Fuca. That body of water separated Washington’s northwest peninsula from Vancouver Island. Somewhere in the middle of the strait was the line between the United States and Canada. About sixty miles due west was open ocean.