Chapter Eight
MONDAY QUICKLY became very expensive.
Between Pepa and the septic servicing, the Beatles album was a write-off. That was okay; they’d make it back when they sold the house.
At least Austin had a contact he could unload the record on pretty quickly. They wouldn’t get top dollar, but they wouldn’t have to wait months for the right buyer either.
While the septic guys went in and out to test the drainage or whatever the fuck, Austin and Joe pulled up the floorboards and then the subfloor in the kitchen addition.
“That’s not dry rot,” Austin said, wiping the back of his wrist over his forehead.
“No, that’s just the regular kind,” Joe agreed.
He kicked his work boot into a joist. From Austin’s understanding of construction—and what he could see of the boards that were in better condition—it should’ve been a two-by-ten.
Three or four inches had rotted away. No wonder the kitchen floor was more like a skate park.
Austin nodded. “So can you fix it?”
Joe gave him a look. “You’re the mechanic, aren’t you? The one who said, ‘Oh, we should fix it up’?”
Austin sincerely hoped Joe was fucking with him. “I fix metal things,” he protested. “You want me to weld something, grease it, use a wrench, change a tire, replace an exhaust system, I’m your guy. This?” He gestured to the floor. “This organic-material bullshit? That’s your job.”
For a minute he was sure Joe was going to tell him he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing either.
Then he grinned. “Yeah, man, I’m good with this shit. Let me just get my I Heart Hardwood shirt.”
Austin laughed in relief. “Fuck off, you had me going.”
“I’ll make a shopping list if you wrangle the kids.”
“You don’t want to be the one to introduce them?”
“I don’t want to send you to the hardware store,” Joe corrected.
Okay, that was fair. Austin didn’t mind the hardware store, but he didn’t fuck with the lumber section. “Guess I’m on babysitting duty.”
On cue, the door banged open and the kids—minus Meg—piled in.
“Dude, your yard is gross,” Gavin commented. Then he peeked into the kitchen and said, “Oh shit, your floor is bad too.”
“Are you giving me crap when you’re literally cutting class to meet my dog right now?” Joe asked.
“It’s our dog,” Austin corrected.
Gavin looked at Alex, then at Joe, and then said, “What, co-owning a house wasn’t enough for you guys?”
“Maybe he has game after all,” Alex suggested.
Austin rolled his eyes and dusted off his hands. “Come on. Your father’s got to go deal with his wood situation. I’ll take you to meet Pepa.”
The kids dutifully followed him through the kitchen to the breezeway door, which they’d closed to keep Pepa contained and warm. She didn’t look like she’d moved much, not that Austin blamed her, and the dressing on her back leg was still clean, which was a relief.
But her eyes were open, and now that he was standing in front of the door, he could hear her soft whines.
“Maybe one at a time,” he decided. “She’s not feeling great, and we don’t know what her history is like. She might not like people.”
She liked Joe, but everyone liked Joe. And she seemed to like Austin too, which was a gift Austin wouldn’t take for granted.
“Me first,” Gavin said, shoving forward.
“Will first,” Austin corrected. “He’s the quietest. Let’s ease her into you.”
Will flushed with pleasure. By some miracle, Gavin didn’t argue.
Despite the general lack of insulation—something on the mile-long list of things to address—the breezeway was plenty cozy with the space heater from the trailer set up in a corner and blocked off by a couple of chairs they’d dragged in from the garage so Pepa couldn’t accidentally burn herself.
She raised her head when she saw Austin, and her tail thumped on her bed, but she whined too. Poor thing. Austin had memorized Linda’s instructions by now—no more pain pills until evening.
“Hi, sweet girl,” he said, kneeling next to her and gesturing Will to come closer. “This is Will. I guess he’s your half brother.” He held out his hand for Pepa to sniff; she licked it.
Will copied Austin’s greeting, and Pepa consented to gentle ear pets. “Did she really fight a coyote?”
“She started it,” Austin agreed. “Or, well, maybe the coyote did. Joe ended it with a two-by-four.”
“Seriously?” His blue eyes went wide. Then he lowered his voice and glanced back toward the door, which Austin had closed behind them to keep the heat in, and said conspiratorially, “Sounds hot.”
Jesus, these kids were going to kill him. “I’ll tell him you said that,” Austin threatened, barely holding in a laugh.
The blood ran out of Will’s face. “Oh God, please don’t. Someone will ask if I have daddy issues.”
Austin kind of assumed daddy issues were a prerequisite of being one of Joe’s kids. Then again, if Will didn’t have any, it was probably down to Joe.
Will stroked Pepa’s head again. “She’s sweet. I always wanted a dog.”
“Me too.”
Not just a dog, of course. Parents who loved him, siblings, a partner. But just because you wanted something didn’t mean you’d get it. He’d learned that hard lesson. And you could lose anything you did get. Austin was better off alone.
But Pepa was better off with him. He could take care of her. He couldn’t let her suffer. He didn’t want her to be alone.
Besides, dogs were loyal. Pepa would never leave him.
She licked his hand once again as he stroked her neck. “All right. Let’s give Alex a turn.”
WITH THE addition of Pepa to their family, having a habitable house where they could safely and comfortably sleep and eat was more urgent than ever, and Joe and Austin stepped up their efforts to cross things off the to-do list. First up was patching the stairs, which Joe did the day they brought Pepa home.
The day after her arrival, Austin watched Pepa take her first steps, and her unhappy first fall.
Miscalculating her weight, she overbalanced and landed on her bandaged hip, letting out a pained yelp.
Austin was at her side, petting and soothing, before he thought about it.
As she panted in his arms, he buried his face in her fur and hid his own tears.
Thank God she quickly picked up how to manage a three-legged walk. Austin didn’t think he could take seeing her in such distress again.
On Tuesday, the exterminator came to deal with the mice.
Since neither Joe nor Austin could get their work done in the house, they spent the time at their day jobs.
Nervous about leaving her alone, Austin brought Pepa to the garage and kept her snugly cooped up in his office.
Between changing the oil on a Ford and replacing the carburetor in an old Chevy, Austin popped next door to his neighbor and asked if he was still thinking about renting a place closer to his work.
At home that evening, they got to work implementing the rest of the exterminator’s advice. Joe took the lawnmower and weedwhacker to plant life near the house, and Austin picked up airtight containers for food and garbage.
After dinner they settled in the breezeway with Pepa, who was growing antsy now that she had recovered from anesthesia and the harsher drugs, and argued the merits of accepting the last piece of advice from the exterminator.
“I’m not saying a cat is a bad idea.” Joe jabbed the air with his sandwich. “I’m just saying that now is probably not the best time for more animal adoption.”
“Okay, but isn’t an animal that will help us maintain the house one that’s worth putting the money into?”
“Sure, but a pet isn’t a temporary thing. What are we going to do with it when we sell the house?”
Austin threaded his fingers in Pepa’s ruff and pursed his lips. He didn’t appreciate the reminder that Pepa’s future was undecided. “Oh, so it’s fine for the dog—”
Pepa whined and settled her chin on his thigh. Austin stroked her silky ears. She’d been so unhappy as the painkillers wore off. Maybe Linda could increase her dosage?
Then again, getting the dog addicted to drugs didn’t seem great either.
With a roll of his eyes, Joe stood up. “All right. I’m going back to the subfloor.” There was something pointed about the way he looked at Austin when he said it, like Austin was slacking off by giving Pepa much-needed comfort, but Austin wasn’t taking that bait.
Pepa whined again, and this time she stood up and hopped to the side door. Austin didn’t need to be a dog whisperer to understand what she wanted.
He clipped her new leash onto her collar and took her out for a pee. She wouldn’t need it forever—the property was big—but neither Austin nor Joe trusted her yet not to accidentally hurt herself if she had free rein.
Pepa whined and pulled on the leash; clearly she knew where she wanted to do her business. Seeing no point in arguing, Austin strolled behind her as she led the way to—
The spot where the coyote attacked her.
“Why do you want to go there, baby?” Austin muttered, but he reluctantly let her drag him on.
Pepa snuffled in the grass and—
Was that a meow?
Austin shuffled forward and looked over Pepa’s head.
Well. Looked like Austin was winning that argument after all.
“AUSTIN!” JOE had reached the point in the subfloor installation where he needed another set of hands. Maneuvering a twelve-foot-long two-by-ten into a joist hanger was a two-person operation. “Quit petting the dog and come help me with this!”
When Austin didn’t show up right away, Joe thought back.
Had he heard the breezeway door opening?
He dusted off his hands and walked down the three steps to what he’d come to think of as Pepa’s hospital room.
Sure enough, it was empty, but Austin and Pepa were on their way back to the house, illuminated in the yellowy glow of the motion-activated floodlight.
Austin had taken off his sweatshirt and was cradling it against his chest, half his attention on the bundle, half on Pepa.
It was only polite to get the door. “Hey, can I get some—oh my God, what are those?”