Back then Rob was an infant. “You can depend on me, little one,” I’d whispered into his tiny pink ear. Rocking him with tight arms and kissing his salty eyes, I realized I was the only one I could depend on too. Phil and God had both deserted me.
A blast of air shook my bedroom window. I opened my eyes and sat up. It was way past time to let poor Charlie in. I tugged on some sweats and trotted downstairs. When I pushed open the door a crack and called his name, he didn’t come.
“Charlie,” I said again, shoving the door further. “Charlie, come here this minute.”
Then I noticed the opened gate. I usually latched it carefully. Had the storm forced it open?
Stepping into my walking shoes, I reached for my hooded jacket, grabbed Charlie’s leash, and headed out to the street. The wind was driving the rain down in heavy sheets. I looked in both directions but didn’t see him. A car swished by, its windshield wipers working feverishly. In the gutter newly formed rivers gathered leaves.
I made the choice to turn left, toward the lake, at first trying to avoid the bigger puddles, then ignoring them. Visions of my dog disappearing under a car tire kept me running. I tried to remember if he was wearing his collar. Sometimes it slipped off. Not that anyone would bother with a wet dog.
I heard a volley of thunder in the distance. “Charlie, come!”
As I sloshed through the side streets, scanning every yard and alley, the wind knifed through my pants. My thoughts vacillated between the dog’s disappearance and Rob. Were both my fault? I’d willfully screwed up my own life by getting pregnant and marrying the wrong man. Before I met Phil, my future had showed such promise, like a rose that never bloomed. My parents had advised me to wait until I graduated from college, to get myself firmly anchored before committing to marriage. I couldn’t tell them the real reason I wanted to get married so quickly.
After a futile hour of searching, my voice was hoarse, my legs stiff, and my feet floated in my shoes. Then a pleasing thought hit me. Charlie had probably circled the block and ducked down the alley to sniff garbage cans, and was now moping by the front door.
Making my way home, I turned the last corner. He wasn’t there.
I spied Henry’s pickup pulling away from the curb in front of my house. He must have spotted me in his rearview mirror, because I saw the brake lights flash on. I jogged over to the truck as he cranked down his window.
“My dog ran away,” I said, almost squawking.
“Get in, I’ll help you look for him.”
I climbed onto the wide bench seat, and we headed down the street. “How long has he been gone?” he asked.
“Over an hour, maybe two.” Shivering, I realized I was drenched. I pulled back my jacket hood and tried to peel off the strands of wet hair plastered to the sides of my face. I must have looked like a bag lady, but it didn’t matter.
“We’d better hunt along Highway 99,” he said, taking us in that direction. Moments later we were traveling at forty miles an hour on the six-lane road. In spite of the standing water on the highway, cars were moving only slightly slower than they did on sunny days.
“Charlie would never make it across here alive,” I said. Seeing piles of wet debris stopped my heart several times, and I thanked God under my breath each time I realized it was only a wad of crumpled newspaper or cardboard.
After half a mile we got off the highway and zigzagged through the side streets. Finally Henry patted my knee. “We’d better get you home and into some dry clothes.”
I kept my eyes turned to the street. “Charlie had an ID tag attached to his collar,” I said. “Someone might have called. One of us should have stayed home to answer the phone.”
The rain eased to a drizzle, as if the sky had run out of moisture. Leaves from the corner oak tree lay in wet mounds around the storm drain. An old gentleman in a trench coat stood kicking them away.
Henry’s truck stopped at my front door. I dashed inside to check the answering machine. No one had called.
I could hear Henry coming up the front steps. “I’m in the kitchen,” I said, tugging off my jacket and hanging it on the doorknob.
As he entered the room, he asked, “Anything?”
“No.” I was sapped of all energy and hope. “You must think I’m a hysterical female.” I wiped under my eyes. “Until recently, my life was normal—positively dull. But over the past few weeks, things have started flying apart.” I gave a little laugh as I pictured a meteor catapulting through space and colliding with a planet. “Maybe I’m going crazy.”
“Why don’t you take a hot shower and put on some warm clothes. I’ll wait by the phone.”
I returned to find that he’d made toast and a pot of tea. I sat down, feeling like a guest in my own kitchen. He poured me a cup of tea, and I took a sip, the hot liquid soothing my throat. I didn’t need to ask if anyone had called.
I talked to fill the silence. I told Henry about my life as a single parent, first portraying myself as a capable young woman, then becoming more honest. I shared things I’d never told anyone, not even my parents or my girlfriends. Like what a tough time Rob had in school, a fact I never wanted anyone to know for fear they would think I was
