Love Is for the Birds

5. Teddy

WITH HER STOMACH FULL OF GOOD FOOD, AFTER SEEING ALL her friends buckling down to fix Bird Isle, and now a dog to keep her company, Teddy just might get through this nightmare.

“I hate leaving you here by yourself.” Jack steered onto her property.

“I’ve got a dog.”

“Is that good or bad?” Jack killed the engine.

“I’m going to say good. Let’s see how the night goes.”

“I’ll check on you tomorrow. You like breakfast tacos?”

The mention of breakfast tacos made her stomach rumble, even though she’d gobbled down enough barbecue and enough calories to last for days. “Who doesn’t?”

Jack jumped out of the truck and hustled toward the passenger side like a valet at the Four Seasons. Best to avoid that whole awkward goodbye scene. She flung her door open.

“Whoa!” Jack jumped away. “Can’t a guy open the door for a lady?”

“Sorry about that. I couldn’t afford a tip.”

“Your presence is tip enough for me.” Jack offered his hand to her.

Along with his pressed handkerchief and yes ma’ams , his remark just checked another box on his list of Mr. Perfect moves. Oddly, from him the words sounded totally natural.

“Now where’s that dog chain?” He pulled down the tailgate.

“Very funny. Don’t you worry Pickles. No one’s gonna put you on a chain. He’s joking.”

Jack patted Pickles on the head as he glanced at the area. “Where do you sleep?”

She raised her eyebrows and grinned. “You’re a bit forward for my taste, Jack.”

“I meant . . .” he said, his voice trailed off. “There I go again, open mouth, insert foot.”

“It’s okay. Under the circumstances, I’ll cut you some slack.”

Pickles tugged at the rope and sniffed her way toward the house.

“I think I have a foam pad in the truck,” Jack said.

“You think of everything, don’t you?” She led Pickles into the remains of the living room, and then down the hall to where she slept. “Since you asked, this is what’s left of the bedroom.”

Her bed consisted of Barb’s old futon, a sleeping bag, and a pillow. After her day, the futon looked like a pillow-top king bed.

“Pardon the mess.” She grabbed a pile of panties.

Jack turned away—once again, the gentleman.

She fumbled with the laundry searching for a place to hide her underwear and then stuffed them under a bath towel. “I suppose you can bounce a quarter on your bed.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve been through a lot of hurricanes.” He let out a long sigh. “You sure you’ll be all right here?”

“This is a disaster zone, remember.”

“I like your spirit, Theodora. You’re something.”

Pickles climbed onto the futon and started circling as if to settle in. “Off,” she said, leading Pickles to the floor. “Not on the bed.” She raised her head to Jack. “I’m establishing who’s alpha.”

“Don’t apologize to me. I wouldn’t want her sleeping with me, either. And I certainly wouldn’t want to have her sleeping with you and . . .” He hesitated. “Well, you don’t have a whole lot of room on that futon.”

A flutter rippled in her chest. Did he intend to say, “He wouldn’t want to have her sleeping with you and me?”

“Let me just see if I have a bed for her.” Jack rushed out of the house.

She took a deep breath. “Pickles, what do you think of him?”

At the sound of her name, Pickles wiggled her bony behind and tail. No way had Pickles known her name already, but she obviously liked the sound of Teddy’s voice. A dog would be good company, even a stinky junkyard dog. And, with Pickles here, she knew she would see Jack again.

Jack returned with a rolled-up blanket under his arm. “Will this do?”

He presented Teddy with a green moving van pad. She placed the blanket on the floor next to the futon. “Place,” she said to Pickles, remembering all the lessons she’d learned training her last dog.

To her surprise, Pickles stepped on the blanket. “Down!” She motioned for Pickles to move onto the blanket. Pickles obeyed.

“I continue to be impressed. Pickles is one lucky dog. And she’ll have eggs and bacon for breakfast.”

“You’re going to spoil her.” She shook Jack’s hand. “Thanks. The barbecue tasted delicious.”

“Oh, sorry, I guess you’re tired.” Jack clasped her hand with both of his. “It’s been quite a day.”

His head moved forward slightly, or maybe she imagined the advance, but the earthy, mesquite scent of him hung in the air.

“May I give you a neighborly hug?” he asked. “These days, you gotta check first, you know.”

“I guess,” Teddy said, reaching an arm around him and laughing. “After all, that’s the first good meal I’ve eaten in two weeks.”

Pickles barked.

“If it’s all right with you, Pickles, I am going to hug her back. After all, I technically introduced the two of you.”

Jack pulled her to him and squeezed with both arms. “‘Till tomorrow, then.”

Teddy resisted the temptation to sink into his arms. When Jack released her, Teddy sighed. Her hands fell to her sides.

“I guess I better move along.” He kissed Teddy on the forehead. “I have to say, Theodora, I feel like one lucky dog.”

With that, he turned away. “Jack!” She yelled after him.

He stopped. “Did you need something?”

“Thanks for everything.”

He saluted her. Gooseflesh popped up on her arms. She stroked the skin. “I could use another hug,” she whispered as Jack drove away.

Pickles barked. “What’s that Lassie, you want to go to the beach?”

Pickles tilted her head as if wondering if her name had changed. She led Pickles down the path and sat in the midst of the rubble. She listened to the waves rush against the shore, watched for falling stars, and replayed the night. Jack. That hug. Down-to-earth, funny, and easy to talk to. Geez, she sounded like a contestant on a dating show. Maybe something like The Bachelorette: Hurricane Survivors.

She slapped a hand against her forehead. Daniel. She promised to call. Too late. Well, not really. She wanted to keep reliving that hug from Jack and the kiss on her forehead, not talk to Daniel. “Get out of my head,” she shouted.

Pickles whimpered. She stroked her and said, “I didn’t mean you.” Teddy had no business thinking about Jack.

She checked her phone—four calls from Daniel and a text.

Daniel: Where r u? Been waiting for your call.

Teddy wanted to ignore it, but she knew he would worry.

Teddy: Just got back. Exhausted. I have this stray dog. Talk tomorrow.

Daniel: Stray dog? R u crazy?

Typical Daniel response. If he wanted a dog, Daniel would embark on months of research. He’d have a spreadsheet comparing the traits of different breeds and insist on endless interviews.

Teddy: I’ll call tomorrow. My battery is dying.

No way would Daniel accept her dog explanation. She didn’t feel like arguing about dogs tonight.

And, she couldn’t forget Jack, all hopeful and helpful, while Daniel always steered the conversation toward doom and gloom. Daniel called himself a realist. After all, one could never be too careful. If he were here, he would launch into an unnecessary explanation of all the work that needed to be done, and how much everything would cost, and how much candy she would have to sell to pay the bills. She knew exactly what needed to be done and how much the rebuild would cost. She didn’t need him to tell her.

Why bother comparing Daniel and Jack? She didn’t know. Maybe because for the first time in days light peaked through the dark cloud that had settled over her life. She’d laughed. She’d been on television. She’d gained a dog.

Teddy raised her eyes to the stars and said, “We’ve got this.” She extended her arms to a cool breeze from the Gulf. “Thank you.”

A whiff of Pickles brought her back to reality. “You need a bath first thing in the morning.”

Pickles whined as if she understood her fate.

Teddy pulled a photo of her mother from her overalls pocket. She’d grabbed the picture just before evacuating. Tears filled her eyes. Experiencing the world beside her mother felt like riding a perfect wave that never stopped, though Teddy didn’t notice the magic at the time.

Before her mother died, Teddy drove in from Houston. They went to Dot’s place for an early dinner, sat on the deck with a view of the wharf, and watched the fisherman unload the day’s catch. Her mother pointed to a man and his son, both of them grinning as they weighed their catch, a silvery-blue marlin gleaming in the afternoon light. The man lifted the boy, the blazing sun creating a halo around their heads. His mother snapped photos. Onlookers applauded. The scene happened every day on the island, yet her mother noticed them all with new eyes. After her mother died, Teddy remembered the day often: sparks of silver glinting off the prize marlin, the oohs and aahs of congratulatory strangers—an ordinary, yet extraordinary day at the beach.

Everything stopped when her mother died. Teddy blamed herself. Of course, others disagreed. Another driver and another car killed her mother. But no one knew how much Teddy had pestered her mother to come to Houston that weekend. Teddy wiped the water from her eyes with her fingers, surprised to find any tears left. A gust of wind caught hold of her snapshot. The picture flew from her hand and skittered among the trash piles. Teddy chased after the memento, zigzagging through the debris.

She hurdled over a fallen palm tree and cringed as the print spun just beyond her reach and aimed for the Gulf. Teddy raced toward the photograph. Losing that shot would be just one more thing the storm had snatched from her.

The rusted rail of an outdoor chair finally snagged the photo. Breathless, Teddy pinched a corner of the treasure—her five-year-old self posed with her mother in front of her mother’s new candy store. A sour taste filled Teddy’s mouth. The full moon beamed down on a mess of plywood, window screens, and dry wall. She kicked the pile, wondering if any of her belongings hid underneath. Beneath the dry wall, she noticed the intact edge of a wooden box. What were the odds of finding anything in the ruins of the storm? Her fingers fumbled over the ridges of a wooden box. Sand encrusted the palm leaves carved on the lid. Warmth flooded her. The box contained every cherished memento of her life. She pulled the box to her chest and twirled. A rescue team had rushed her out of the house so quickly, she’d left her treasures behind. Why hadn’t she seen this heap before? With trembling fingers, she tugged on the swollen wooden lid. As she lifted the top, her fingers tingled. All her treasures were safe: a lanyard from Camp Rocky River, a debate team medal, several teeth the Tooth Fairy neglected to take, a key to her grandfather’s house, shells, rocks, and an assortment of earrings without matches.

Below the collectibles, just where she had left the book, lay Sinful Temptations. Teddy stared at the cover. How had this book survived? The pages were swollen and warped. Inside the cover, Teddy read the inscription. Tears blurred the words, but she knew them well. “For my daughter, Teddy. A successful candy store must be full of sinful temptations and delightful surprises.” Then, in parentheses (“Just Like a Man.”) They’d shared the joke through good times and bad.

“What kind of temptations?” Teddy would ask.

Mother always gave the same response, “You’ll find out soon enough.” Then, she’d pop a piece of candy into Teddy’s mouth. Miraculously, she managed to survive childhood without weighing three-hundred pounds.

Only a few months before her death, her mother published her recipes just for Teddy. Mother called the book a bible for candy making. For some reason, the recipes had outlived her mother. Maybe with the recipes and some cash, Teddy could rebuild the shop.