Chapter 11 #2
Trim the rot and open up space.
Being home, though, involved people. Too many people. Yes, they were his people, but that didn’t matter as much as he thought it would when he made the decision to retire, filing his paperwork with as little comment as possible.
The Army wasn’t known for pushing paper fast, and during the transition, his guys had gone easy on him. Rafe, his best friend, got it instantly. BD (short for Bulldog) told him he was going soft anyhow, poking his non-existent love handles as a joke.
Tommy had just glared for days on end before dropping the sulk and treating him like normal.
And then there was Curtis. Curtis had been in that alley with him.
Curtis was out, too.
Except he left in a body bag.
The problem with living in rural Maine was that you had to drive long distances to get anywhere, and the mind could turn on you.
“Music,” he muttered aloud, glancing at the dash to select a station before reflex made him slam on the brakes when something flew in front of him.
And it wasn’t a bird.
Moose at a dead run are fast flyers, and this was a bull moose, big and determined, blowing through the three-foot ice-crusted berm like it was a pile of feathers, hooves on asphalt then–bam–back in the snow bank on the other side.
He raced out of sight through the thick woods as if the hip-deep snow were nothing but powder.
Compared to this, Dennis’s daily snow runs were like a kid on coffee-can stilts.
Whatever the moose was after, it was life threatening. Heart pumping out of his chest, Dennis looked over to his right, to where the moose had stopped. A ghastly sound in the woods made his hair stand up on the back of his neck.
“Get out of here,” he muttered to himself. Hitting the moose while driving sixty miles an hour would have been bad, but now–whatever was in the woods wasn’t a threat to him.
And when the moose moved, he instantly understood.
The snarl sounded like a coyote, then the hideous, high-pitched yipping of a pack of them began. That moose was in protection mode.
All Dennis could do was lay on the horn, hard, then resume his journey. Man interfered more than enough with nature.
And Dennis wasn’t stupid.
By the time he reached Mel’s animal sanctuary, his nerves were back in place, heartbeat steady, but he’d had plenty of time to think about what he didn’t know.
Which was enough to keep him busy for the rest of his life.
Outside the main barn, Mel stood holding onto a leash. At the other end was a tiny dog that looked like it lost a genetic fight with a rat.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey yourself. Thanks for coming,”
Dennis planted his hands on his hips and looked at the ratlike dog. It reminded him of a living Muppet.
“Is that why you wanted me to come over?”
“Ornery?” she asked.
“Uh… I guess I can be?”
“Ha. No. That’s his name.” She tugged the leash twice, lightly. “Ornery.”
“What is it? Looks like a rat, a Chihuahua, and a Muppet had a threesome.”
Mel just blinked at him. A lot. Then she looked at Ornery and laughed.
“That’s the perfect description, isn’t it? We have no idea what Ornery’s made of. Someone found him in a ditch near Deke’s, so he’s here healing up.”
“Okay.”
“I need help with Magic.”
“So the rumors are true.”
“Huh?”
“You really are a witch.” He winked. She laughed.
And then her breasts moved.
Dennis knew well not to look at her rack, but it was difficult when a small creature's head popped out from between her–
"Magic!" she exclaimed. Dennis shifted his gaze so that he watched the rack attack via peripheral vision. Two enormous eyes in a tiny little head stared at him. Mel reached down into her cleavage and pulled the little sugar glider out. White medical tape covered the poor thing’s rear right leg.
No bigger than the palm of his hand, the little creature was so fragile. It pulled on tenderness strings around Dennis's heart that he didn't know he possessed.
“I wasn’t kidding when I asked you to be his foster daddy.”
Dennis groaned.
“Someone needs to watch Magic for about a week. He needs to heal up enough so that the other animals don't come after him."
“Just keep him in a cage.”
"A cage?" Mel's tone told him that he had said the wrong thing. "You can't keep him in a cage! He's too social and he's injured. The poor thing needs to be close to a safe mammal."
"And I'm that safe mammal?" he said in a resigned tone because he already knew the answer.
Magic batted at his fingertip as he reached out. The poor guy was accustomed to jumping from tree limbs, its legs attached to webbing that turned it into a little magic carpet. But instead, Mel had to carefully transfer the sugar glider into his hands.
Magic looked up at Dennis with trusting eyes, as if to say, You'd better not screw up. And then he nestled himself right at the thumb crook of Dennis's right hand.
"See, he loves you already," Mel said. “He remembers you. He kept whispering, ‘I want Dennis’ in my ear.”
“If you hear the animals talking to you, Mel, you need to get out more.”
She just snorted.
“You tricked me into coming here. You knew I couldn’t say no to those pitiful little Puss ’n Boots eyes.”
“Yep.”
“Have you no shame?”
“Come on, Dennis. Please? You’re the best person I could think of for this.”
“I’m the only person you could think of for this.”
“You’re strong. Gentle. Caring–”
"I'm already doing it. You don't need to lay it on thick. What do I feed him?"
"I'll text you instructions. I just need you to keep him alive for the next week."
"You want me to carry him around with me everywhere I go?"
She shrugged. "That's what I've been doing."
Politeness prevented him from pointing out that she possessed a body part he lacked that would allow the creature to nestle in somewhere warm.
As if Mel read his mind, she grinned and said, "You might want to start wearing vests and shirts with front pockets, or hoodies with pouches. Magic loves the girls." Mel looked down at her breasts. "You're going to have to find your own version of that."
Suddenly retirement wasn't looking so great.
"Got a question for you, Mel." Magic rested lightly in his hands.
"Sure."
"Does Randy ever take off at a run for no apparent reason in town?"
He didn’t have to mention he meant the moose. Mel got it instantly.
"Randy? No,” she said, thinking it through. "When he got hit by that car, it broke one of his legs. He can walk, but he's not a runner. Why?”
“I just almost hit a moose on my way over here. The thing shot right across the state route and into the woods."
"Huh," was all she said.
"Not many predators out there for moose," he said.
His uncle Ted was the head of the agriculture department for the state of Maine.
If there was anything the Luview children had been taught, it was how to manage themselves in the woods.
When you cut down trees for a living and trim them along the side of the road, you see all kinds of wildlife.
"Can't be a wolf," Mel said. "Haven’t been any in Maine for over a hundred years.”
“Yeah, but you know all the rumors about coywolves.”
“Sure. They caught one up by the Canadian border a few years ago. Genetic testing showed it was eighty-five percent wolf, but other than that, I can't think of too many things that could take out a bull moose. What about a bear?" she asked.
Dennis shook his head.
"Didn't see any. And it sounded like wolves."
"The only other thing I can think of," she mused, "is a wolverine, but that's a long shot, right? And they don’t sound like wolves."
The crook of Dennis's arm started to ache, so he pulled Magic in close to him, looking down at his vest and long-sleeved shirt. Mel could tell he was struggling and said, "Stick him in your pocket."
"He'll be okay in there?" Dennis asked, transferring the creature into his left hand so he could clean out his right pocket. As he was stuffing his truck keys and his phone into his front pants pocket, Mel's phone buzzed. Holding up one finger, she took the call.
Dennis cradled little Magic in his hand. Sure enough, the sugar glider settled inside his vest pocket, leaving Dennis to wonder what his mom and dad were going to think when he came to dinner tonight with a guest at the dining table.
And his niece, Harriet? He was going to be her favorite uncle, instantly.
Hmmm. Maybe there was an upside to this animal foster daddy gig…
“A lemur? Webcam house? And a–an anaconda? How did the poor lemur escape being eaten by the anaconda? And what would a bunch of sex workers in a webcam house want a lemur for–oh, don’t answer that!
” Mel shouted toward the end, leaving Dennis to toe the mud and try to make himself useful.
Could he muck stalls with Magic in his pocket?
Only one way to find out.
By the time Mel’s call was over, she looked extremely pissed, but her eyes widened as she took in the llama section he’d mucked while she was on the phone.
“You’re a doll,” she murmured. Three stalls cleaned up.
“I’d rather muck stalls than handle a call like you just did.”
Her cheeks went pink.
“People think rural life is quiet and sleepy. It’s anything but. Webcam sex worker house near Fryeburg. A lemur and an anaconda.”
“What were they… never mind.” Like Mel, he shut off the questions he had no business–and no stomach–to ask.
“I just care for the little beasties. Not the human ones.”
“Magic stayed put the entire time,” he informed her. “Had to crook my elbow a bit to avoid friction on him, but otherwise fine.”
“I knew you were the right person to ask.”
“What if I had never retired?” he joked.
“I’d probably turn to Skylar.”
“Who?”
“Skylar Lewiston? You know, works at Love You Coffee?”
He shook his head.
“Can’t place the name.”
“You really did leave town, didn’t you?”
“I visited.” Dennis took the question as an invitation to talk, leaning against a post, careful to use his hip so Magic had plenty of room. “But yeah, I left.”
“I heard Greta fawned all over you the other day.”