The Perfect Disaster Read online

  Candace grabbed her stack of mail and headed out. The bell rang, and Ginny hurried toward her room. The voicemail would have to wait until the break. She needed to get to be ready for the students. And maybe take one more peek at the note from Carter.

  When Carter stepped out of his truck, Ginny’s Jeep was open, a leash trailing out of it to Roscoe, who sat just outside the door.

  He paused on the sidewalk. Roscoe gave him a doleful glance, then turned back to the interior of the back seat.

  Ginny’s voice came from inside. “Hop in, Roscoe. Come!” Her hand appeared, holding a bit of doggy bacon.

  Roscoe leaned forward, trying to snag the bacon without actually stepping closer to the car.

  “Roscoe!” Ginny’s voice was impatient. “Get in this car! How will we ever go anywhere if you keep refusing?”

  Carter stifled his laugh. Roscoe turned to him again, his eyes pleading to help him out.

  “You’re on your own,” Carter said.

  “Oh! Ouch!” Ginny’s head smacked the door frame. “You’re here!”

  “I thought I’d walk with you to the park. Trying to get him to go in the car?”

  Ginny emerged from the Jeep. Her pale blue jacket made her gray eyes shift to the color of an open sky. He felt sucker-punched.

  “Every time he gets close to the car, he freezes up,” she said, rubbing her head. “He must associate getting in with leaving someplace he loves.”

  “I’d balk, too.”

  Ginny stepped down and untangled her legs from the tether between her waist and Roscoe. She walked away from the car. Only when she closed the door did Roscoe leave his spot on the sidewalk, sniffing around to see if he could still get the bacon treat.

  “I thought we were meeting on the hill,” Ginny said.

  “It’s going to start getting dark earlier, so I might as well walk the lady both ways.”

  Ginny adjusted her backpack and fell into step beside him. Roscoe gave up on the treat and took the lead. Carter wrapped his arm around the leash between her waist and Roscoe, to give them some leverage if he took off.

  They had gotten used to this arrangement last week, the closeness required due to the tether, and the step length necessary to match their strides. The knowledge was comfortable, like they had figured out some important part of each other. Roscoe quickly forgot his car lesson and dashed back and forth, sniffing and marking everything in their path.

  “He’s extra jumpy today, isn’t he?” Carter asked.

  “He is. Maybe it’s because I’ve been pushing him lately. Trying to lure him into the car. Working on sit and stay.”

  “Could be. He also might sense the change in the seasons.”

  “He’s a Chicago dog, so he may not know what to make of this extended warm spell,” she said.

  “Could be a storm coming. I checked the weather earlier, but it seemed like it wasn’t going to happen until late at night.”

  “The sky doesn’t look particularly ominous,” she said.

  “Maybe he just doesn’t like Tuesdays,” Carter said. “But I do.” His body buzzed with an electric charge from admitting this to her. He’d been compelled to contact her when they parted on somber terms after their talk about the football team.

  At first, when she didn’t respond to his voice mails, he’d thought she didn’t want to be seen with him again. But when her voice mail continued to have the generic district message, he’d realized she didn’t know how to check it.

  So he sent the note. Sometimes old-fashioned was good, even if the contents had most certainly been read by half of Applebottom. He could picture Sadie dropping it into the inner-district mail bag, scanning the contents and then relaying them to Betty and Delilah. He should have tracked down an envelope, but the message was simple enough.

  Her eyes cut over at him, and his neck flushed hot.

  Then abruptly she called out, “Roscoe! Way to ruin a moment!”

  The dog was romantically urinating on a post.

  They reached the walking path to the park. Roscoe dashed forward, and an entire flock of birds rose at once from the trees to settle farther away.

  Roscoe leaped and barked, and Carter cinched a tighter hold on the leash. “Steady, boy.”

  “Roscoe!” Ginny called. “Sit!”

  Roscoe stopped and turned to them with a question in the tilt of his head.

  “Look that!” Carter exclaimed. “He knows we’re talking to him!”

  Ginny fumbled with her backpack. “Good boy, Roscoe!” She jerked out a packet of treats and opened them, but in her excitement she fumbled and dropped several on the ground.

  Roscoe hustled back to gobble them up.

  “You deserve them, Roscoe,” Carter said, stroking his head.

  Ginny glanced up at him, beaming. “He’s getting it! Did you see how he stopped in his tracks? That should lead us into getting him to obey commands.”

  “We can definitely build on that.” The enthusiasm in her voice made him smile. Ginny was good at living in the moment, forgetting her old disasters and reveling in the new. He should probably take a page from her playbook.

  They walked on until they reached the spot where they had cut to the clearing last time. Roscoe knew the way and led them through the trees.

  “My goal is to one day bring him here and take off his leash,” Carter said.

  “That’s a crazy goal,” Ginny said. “All I can picture is Roscoe tearing through the trees with us chasing after him.”

  “He’s already doing better.”

  “Around you,” she said.

  They stood at the far ends of the tether, taking turns calling Roscoe’s name. When he started actually moving between them, they added the word come after his name.

  “This is going really well,” Carter called out.

  “A crazy improvement over last week!”

  They tried sit, but Roscoe was too exuberant to actually sit at any point in the park.

  “I think there are just too many distractions out here for him to settle in,” Carter said.

  Ginny agreed. “I’ll keep working on him in my backyard. It’s less exciting there.”

  A crack of thunder surprised them all. Ginny let out a little yelp, and Roscoe cowered to the ground.

  “We better get back,” Carter said.

  Ginny tugged on Roscoe’s leash and called his name, but he refused to move.

  Carter bent down to place a hand on his back. “He’s shaking like a leaf.”

  “I’ve never had him during a storm. I don’t know what he’s like.”

  Another peal of thunder cracked. Roscoe whined and turned to Carter, burying his head against Carter’s belly.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Carter said. “We’re not going to let that big bad thunder get you.”

  Ginny moved toward the path out of the clearing and called out, “Roscoe.” She held a treat.

  Roscoe wouldn’t budge.

  “This might get interesting,” she said.

  Carter continued to stroke the dog. “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.” He stood up. Roscoe lifted his head, and Carter thought he might follow, but then lightning flashed and another roll of thunder rocked the clearing.

  This time Roscoe jumped up and dashed for the trees.

  Carter wasn’t prepared to hold the tether, but Ginny started running the same direction to avoid to a sharp jerk on the harness around her waist.

  Thankfully, Roscoe did not tear through the forest. As soon as he made it inside its protection, he stopped, frantically digging beneath a fallen log as if he could hide under it.

  “Roscoe! Stop!” Ginny called. Dirt flew through the air, hitting her in the face, making it hard to approach him.

  Carter circled the flying dirt to the other side of the log.

  “Roscoe,” he said softly, leaning in, “you’re okay. It’s okay.”

  Roscoe paid him no mind. He continued digging as fast as his paws would go. The dirt beneath the log was damp and soon he
flung mud in every direction. Ginny stood behind him, her hands to her face. The tether was too short for her to back away from the flying clods of dirt.

  “Come over to this side,” Carter said.

  She hopped over the log, settling in next to him. Roscoe frantically continued to dig.

  “What do we do?” she asked.

  “Pray that the thunder stops so he’ll calm down?”

  Roscoe dug as if his life depended on it. Carter had no idea how to make him stop.

  “I’ve seen this behavior in children, many times,” Ginny said. “The urge to hide when they’re afraid led me to keep a pile of blankets in a corner so they could cover up until they were in control again.”

  “It works?”

  “Sure. In some of the homes I serviced before, scary people coming in and out would create this behavior. Maybe Roscoe’s been through something.”

  “What would you do if Roscoe was one of your kids?” he asked.

  “Cover him. That way he’d feel sheltered.”

  “Then let’s do it,” Carter said. “You still have that picnic blanket?”

  “I do.” Ginny turned her backpack around and grabbed the roll. She snapped it out so that it floated over Roscoe, eventually settling down on his frantic body.

  His digging slowed down as the blanket covered him.

  “Roscoe,” she said softly. “Roscoe, Roscoe, Roscoe.” She sang his name as if it were a lullaby.

  Carter watched in amazement as Roscoe stopped digging. He dropped to his belly, panting from the effort, only his nose sticking out from the blanket.

  “You did it,” Carter whispered, struck with awe. “You tamed the beast.”

  Ginny kept crooning to Roscoe as they carefully climbed over the log to his side. Carter hoped the thunder wouldn’t return, not at this critical moment.

  A soft pattering of raindrops hit the canopy of leaves above them. He glanced over at Ginny in concern.

  “Hopefully the rain will stay easy,” she said quietly.

  They were somewhat protected. Only the occasional fall of water from a heavy leaf caused a gentle cascade through the trees. They knelt on either side of Roscoe, petting his head.

  After a little while, Ginny slowly peeled the blanket back, calling his name softly in a singsong voice.

  When the blanket was off and rolled back up, they managed to lift Roscoe to standing. The three of them walked slowly and carefully through the damp woods, listening to the rain.

  “When we reach the edge of the trees,” Ginny asked, “Should we just walk home?”

  Carter pulled out his phone to check the weather. “This is a pretty small cloudburst according to the radar,” he said. “I say we sit here and wait it out.”

  And they did, finding another fallen log at the treeline looking over the park. The rain fell softly on the lake as the muted gray-tinged sunset hit the water beyond the cloudburst.

  The world was foggy and damp and smelled earthy and full of life. Roscoe sat between them, his nose in the air, sniffing at the fresh smells. All the animals in the woods were tucked away, so there was nothing to excite him.

  Neither of them spoke. They simply took in the glorious park, the end of summer, and the way the three of them had worked together so perfectly to avert disaster.

  Chapter 8

  The week passed more quickly than Ginny expected. She and Carter met for another Tuesday and found a bit of success when Roscoe finally connected the word sit with putting his bottom down on the ground.

  She was sure the other parkgoers in Applebottom that day got a good laugh at watching the football coach and the occupational therapist run all over the hill, stopping to shout, “Roscoe, sit!” every few feet, then giggle like maniacs when the dog did what most dogs could already do.

  They hadn’t made any progress on stay yet, but Ginny had hope. Progress was progress. For now, they limited their adventures to the park or quiet neighborhoods far from anyone who had seen his rampage through Town Square a few weeks ago.

  Every other football game was a home game, so on the Friday after their success, Ginny headed back to the bleachers. This time, Carly showed up with her baby and husband. And Natalie, one of the fourth-grade teachers Ginny worked with, also sat near them in the faculty and student section of the stadium.

  Ginny took care not to stare at Carter as much as she might have if she were alone. The women seemed pretty intuitive, and Ginny wasn’t prepared to out anything that was happening—or maybe not happening—between her and Carter so early on.

  They cheered whenever the Eagles had the ball, and winced every time the other team scored, which was a lot. Ginny remembered Carter’s goal of scoring fourteen points in a season and realized it really was a challenge. Everyone stood up when the Eagles kicker got a chance at a field goal.

  He missed.

  Carly’s baby got fussy after halftime, so they took off. Ginny remained with Natalie, determined to sit out the game even though a cold front had blown in and the air cooled rapidly.

  “I wonder if our football team should just be disbanded,” Natalie said. “I’ve been teaching here six years, and I don’t think we’ve ever won a game.”

  Ginny’s heart clenched at the thought of Carter being sent away. “Didn’t one of the students get a football scholarship last year?” she asked. A boy named Caden who used to play for the Eagles had spoken at the pep rally.

  “Sure,” Natalie said. “But right now, we’re an embarrassment.”

  “I found some banners about all the years in a row that we won championship titles.”

  Natalie tilted her head. “Where did you find those?”

  “In a closet I’m using at the high school.” Ginny didn’t have to admit that she found them with the current football coach.

  A pair of little old ladies passed in front of them on the bleachers, spotted Ginny, and put their heads together to whisper.

  What was that about?

  She leaned in to Natalie so her voice wouldn’t carry. “Who are they?”

  “Oh, that’s Gertrude and Maude. They own a pie shop on Town Square. Amazing pies. You should totally go in there.”

  “Do you think they’re talking about me?”

  “No doubt. Gertrude and Maude are all up in everybody’s business in Applebottom.”

  “Should I worry about this?”

  Natalie laughed. “I wouldn’t. They’re harmless.”

  “Which one is which?”

  “Maude is the friendly one,” Natalie said. “Gertrude looks like she’s just bit a lemon.”

  Ginny bit back a smile. Gertrude, with her helmet of white hair and sour expression, did indeed seem to be permanently displeased.

  She tried to force her attention back on the game, then realized she was staring at Carter, and certainly those women would notice. They climbed a couple steps to be level with Ginny and Natalie, then made their way down the row.

  They were coming to sit next to them!

  Ginny took a deep breath, trying to be calm. Probably they were just coming to inquire about how Roscoe’s training was going. Maybe they were doing some sort of risk assessment about her ability to take the dog anywhere near their pie shop.

  “Miss Ginny,” Gertrude said. “Look at you, all full of pointless Eagle spirit.”

  Ginny tugged self-consciously at her sweatshirt. “Hello.”

  Maude leaned forward, her tight black curls and grandmotherly air making her much easier to smile at. “Don’t mind Gertie,” Maude said. “She wouldn’t know Eagle spirit if it bit her in the tush.” She extended a hand. “I’m Maude.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Ginny said. She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

  Maude elbowed her friend. “Well, introduce yourself, Gertie. You got the poor girl all nervous.”

  Nope. They knew.

  “A little fear will do her good,” Gertrude said. “This generation has no respect for their elders.”

  Maude elbowed her aga
in, and Gertrude sighed. “The name’s Gertrude, not Gertie. I put salt on that woman’s pie for calling me that on the regular. We’re friends with Delilah.”

  Great. So they knew about Roscoe’s disaster.

  Maude peered around Gertrude. “Did you get the book she sent?”

  “I did,” Ginny said. “Carter’s been helping me train Roscoe. It takes both of us sometimes to get him in line.”

  Maude bumped Gertrude on the arm. “I knew he’d be the perfect thing,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you he would be the perfect thing?”

  Gertrude pinched her lips. She looked perturbed that Maude would take credit. “I believe it was Topher who suggested the football coach. Not you.”

  Maude shrugged. “Well, it’s working.” She leaned forward again. “I do hope you’ll come to our pie shop soon. I’d love to sit and chat a spell.”

  “We might as well talk now,” Gertrude said, gesturing at the field. “It’s not like this team is going to score any points.”

  But, as if the world wanted to prove her wrong, a roar rose up from the Eagle side of the stands. The quarterback decided not to throw the ball and tucked it under his arm to take off running.

  “First down, Eagles!” The announcer shouted over the loudspeaker. He sounded surprised.

  “I don’t think they’re doing too bad,” Ginny said. “But I would be delighted to come by your shop. I can leave Roscoe at home.”

  Maude beamed, her dark cheeks turning rosy in the stadium light. Ginny definitely liked her over Gertrude.

  “That will be just perfect.”

  “That would be necessary,” Gertrude added. “We can’t have your dog eating an entire day’s profits.”

  “Gertrude is not a dog lover,” Maude said. “But she has other good qualities.”

  “I bet you can’t name two,” Gertrude said.

  “You make good pies,” Maude said.

  Gertrude folded her hands in her lap. “Well, I’ll give you that.”

  Since nobody offered up a second good quality for Gertrude, Ginny tried to watch the game. The quarterback attempted a couple more throws, but nobody was open to receive them. On fourth down, he decided to keep it again, and got another first down on his own.