Finding Home (10 page)

“Yeah. She left me for him and now they’re getting married.

In November. And I didn’t expect it to feel like she just ripped my heart out all over again, but that’s exactly what it’s like.”

Trying hard to keep up, Natalie could latch on to only one thing: Sarah Buchanan’s ex was a woman. Annoyed at herself for wanting to grin like an idiot, she tried to focus on what was being said. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it. “That sucks.”

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“Doesn’t it?” The gentle tinkle of ice cubes against glass came over the line and Natalie heard Sarah swallow.

“Are you okay, Ms. Buchanan?” she asked again.

“Call me Sarah. Ms. Buchanan is my mother.”

The smile came unexpectedly. “Okay. If you call me Natalie.”

“Natalie. That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I ask you a favor, Natalie?”

Here it comes
, Natalie thought, and braced herself. She had the mental image of Andrea shouting at her to hang up, to stop talking to the enemy, to yell at Sarah to leave her alone. But something in the tone of Sarah’s voice sounded…defeated, and Natalie couldn’t allow herself to abandon the poor woman, even if she’d wanted to. She prepared for the worst as she replied,

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Could I just…visit him?” Sarah’s voice was so small and heartbroken that Natalie had to remind herself she was talking to a grown woman. She felt tears welling up in her eyes and was at once annoyed by her own empathy and saddened by the pathetic tone of the question. “I won’t try to take him, I promise.

I just want to see him. I need to see him.” Her voice cracked and Natalie swallowed the lump in her own throat. “I feel like my entire life is falling apart, that everything I knew is gone, and if I could just see him, pet him, maybe I can get a grip on…on…oh, God, I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” She snifß ed again and then sighed. “It’s stupid, I know. This was stupid. Forget it.

I’m sorry I called.”

“Wait.” What was it? The sadness in her voice? That she sounded so utterly alone? That of all the people in the world, Sarah had called her? Natalie couldn’t put her Þ nger on any one reason—maybe it was a blend of all of them—but she didn’t want to let Sarah go. Not like this. Not when she was such a mess and the cure was lounging across Natalie’s bed chewing on a hunk of plastic. “Don’t hang up.”

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FINDING HOME

Sarah didn’t respond, but she also didn’t hang up. They remained on the phone in silence, the only sounds being those of their tandem breathing and Natalie’s television.

“Is that
Law & Order
?” Sarah said after a few minutes.

“Yeah.” Natalie grinned. “I’m a junkie.”

“Me, too.”

Wetting her lips, Natalie plunged ahead. “Listen, we go for a walk in the park on Sunday mornings over at Cobbs Hill. Why don’t you meet us there tomorrow and you can hang out with us.

Okay?” Andrea was going to kill her. She knew it already.

There was obvious hesitation as Sarah said, “Will your girlfriend be there?”

“Who?” Natalie was bafß ed.

“Your girlfriend. The scary dark-haired one?”

A ripple of laughter burst forth from Natalie’s chest as she realized not only that Sarah thought Andrea was her girlfriend, but also that she found her scary. Surprising herself, she kept the details under wraps and said simply, “Andrea? No. No, she won’t be there.” Sarah seemed to be weighing her options on the other end of the line. “What do you think? Want to join us?”

“I think I’d love to. What time?”

“We’re usually up and about by six or six thirty. Just come on by the park. We’ll be there.”

“Okay. That sounds great.” Sarah was quiet for several seconds before continuing. When she did, she sounded like she had a better handle on herself. “I’m really sorry I bugged you.”

“You didn’t bug me.”

“Well. Good. Thanks for listening.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Good night, Natalie.”

“Night.”

The click seemed gentle somehow and Natalie held the phone in her hand, replaying the relief in Sarah’s voice, the

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slightly embarrassed tone of her thanks. She knew she’d done the right thing for this woman and that made her feel good. Glancing at Chino, though, she wondered if she’d done the right thing for him. He looked up at her like some wise old man, blinked his blue eyes at her once, as if he knew something she didn’t, then went back to his bone.

Only then did she wonder if she’d done the right thing for herself.

v

Sunday was overcast and gray. The sky was the color of a dull nickel and looked as if it might split open at any second and drench everyone and everything on the ground below. Still, Cobbs Hill Park was surprisingly populated. The summers were far too short-lived in upstate New York and the residents tended to milk every single second from them that they could, threat of rain or not.

Sarah shifted her car into Park and sat quietly in the lot for several long moments, scanning the visitors that had pets, looking for Natalie and Bentley, but at the same time frightened of Þ nding them. Still unsure about whether this was a good idea, still feeling like she was Þ ghting in a battle of emotions inside her own head, she studied her hands on the steering wheel and tried to calm herself. Nervousness warred with anger, which slapped at sadness, all clashing inside her skull as if they had clanging swords and suits of armor. She’d taken a handful of Motrin when she’d opened her eyes, blaming the headache on her mixed feelings, but knowing deep down it had a lot to do with the alcohol she’d consumed the night before.

“God, I’ve got to ease up on that,” she whispered aloud. If anything made her feel out of control, it was too much alcohol, and she wondered, not for the Þ rst time, if her psyche was trying to tell her something. Had Natalie had any idea she’d been well on her way to sloshed during their phone conversation?

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Sarah’s anger simmered slowly as she continued to peruse the grounds. Cobbs Hill wasn’t a small area and she was annoyed with herself for not thinking to ask for a more speciÞ c location.

With an irritated grunt, she got out of the car and began to walk farther into the park, away from the street.

The promise of rain made the air thicker than usual, close and damp, the scent of vegetation as prominent as if it were something solid. Sarah had dressed in a simple pair of black Adidas shorts and a white tank top and still, she broke into a mild sweat almost immediately. Glad she’d thought to pull her hair back into a ponytail and slap a hat on her head—her only defense against the frizz that humidity caused—she wiped at the clamminess beaded along her upper lip as she walked.

“Heads up!” somebody shouted, catching her attention just as a bright orange plastic Frisbee went whizzing past her face. It was followed almost immediately by a running college-age man who apologized while simultaneously giving her a quick once-over and grinning on his way past. His expression was so self-deprecating, so
I know that was really rude, sorry about that, but
hey—not bad
, that she couldn’t help but grin back at him as she kept on walking. She was thirty-eight years old and if somebody who was at least Þ fteen years her junior thought she was attractive enough to check out, who was she to judge?

Not seeing the pair she was seeking, she continued on, following a short trail through some woods, knowing it would spit her out onto another large section of the park. Maybe Natalie walked Bentley around that section. Of course, she was also a little late, so maybe she’d missed them altogether. Still aggravated by the situation, she tromped through the trees. When she reached the edge, she stopped in her tracks, the sight before her keeping her hidden behind the branches so she could watch without detection.

The Þ rst thing that struck her was that Bentley was off leash, and her heart did a quick jump, as it always had when she worried he’d go tearing off and never come back. Sarah knew

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his breed was a herding breed, that they were border dogs that would generally stick around and didn’t need a constant tether, but she’d always been too nervous, too much of a control freak to allow him that freedom. Now as she watched, Natalie threw a red rubber ball across the large Þ eld and Bentley sprinted after it, obviously in his glory.

My God, he’s fast.

He sprang into the air and his jaws snapped shut on the ball while it was in mid-bounce. Sarah couldn’t help but smile at the grace of it. Then he turned on a dime, sending up a shower of grass and dust, and ran back to Natalie like his rear end was on Þ re. She squatted as he reached her. She praised him and showered him with hugs and kisses, his little stub of a tail wiggling a mile a minute, causing his entire butt to shake. In the time he was with her, Sarah was never, ever bad to him. She never treated him in any disparaging way. He was fed and exercised and loved. But she’d never seen him look
this
happy. Never. He was having the time of his life and Sarah wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Unable to move just yet, she continued to watch as Natalie threw the ball again, and Sarah had the sudden thought that Natalie must have played softball at one time. Maybe she still did. She deÞ nitely did not throw like a girl. The realization made her chuckle until she suddenly recalled part of the previous night’s conversation. She distinctly remembered referring to the dark-haired woman who’d belittled her on the street as Natalie’s girlfriend. She also realized that Natalie hadn’t denied it.

What are the chances that my lost dog was found by another
lesbian?

Slim to none should have been the correct answer, but Sarah wasn’t so sure as Natalie threw the ball yet again. They weren’t far away, maybe Þ fteen yards, but the trees kept Sarah obscured fairly well. She took the opportunity to really look at Natalie—her nemesis, as she was beginning to think of her. It was something she’d never been able to do for longer than a few seconds at the coffee shop without being obvious. She wasn’t a big woman,

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nor was she tall. Sarah would almost venture to call her petite, though compared to her own 5’9” frame, lots of women seemed petite. She guessed Natalie to be maybe 5’4”. Today, she wore navy blue workout pants that reached to mid-calf and looked well worn, as though they were made just for her, and Sarah tried in vain not to linger on Natalie’s well-shaped behind as a little jolt of arousal hit her right between her legs. Natalie’s light blue Tshirt was cropped, and a ß ash of belly winked teasingly each time she threw the ball. Sarah swallowed and wet her lips, wondering why all her saliva was suddenly gone. Natalie’s chestnut hair was pulled back off her face, but the lock of bright color waved loosely, refusing to stay tucked behind an ear, despite her constant attempts.
Maybe it’s rebelling
, Sarah thought sarcastically, trying to shake off the pull of physical attraction
.
The entire package was undeniably pleasing, but the pink streak seemed like a last-ditch effort to remain a teenager or something, and it made her roll her eyes.

When Natalie’s backside threatened to steal Sarah’s attention once again, she moved her gaze forcibly back to Bentley. He was absolutely in heaven—it was apparent to anybody who chose to take three seconds and look—and Sarah felt a blanket of depression settle over her. Of course he was in heaven. Why wouldn’t he be?

Everybody else who left Sarah ended up happier than they had been with her. Why should her dog be any different? Pushing a loose rock around with the toe of her sandal, she wondered why on earth she thought coming here was the right thing to do.
This
was a stupid, stupid idea.
But before she could turn and escape back to her empty, lonely townhouse, a familiar voice caught her attention just as solidly as if a hand had gripped her arm.

“Sarah?”

Her eyes closed in resignation and she swore under her breath before looking up and seeing Natalie smiling at her. Damn her. Smiling that smile, the one Sarah looked forward to every morning when she stopped to get coffee.
Used to look forward
to.
Along with the smile, her expression was questioning, only

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this time instead of wondering what she’d like with her coffee, she was probably trying to Þ gure out why Sarah was lurking in the bushes and staring at her.

“What are you doing in there?” Natalie asked, squinting at the trees and conÞ rming Sarah’s suspicions as she walked toward her. “Did you just get here?”

Nodding vigorously, Sarah pushed herself into the open feeling like a child caught peeking at something forbidden. “Yeah.

Yeah, I wasn’t sure where in the park you’d be, so I decided to come this way.”

“Good thinking.” Natalie’s voice faltered ever so slightly and she looked away. It was at that moment that Sarah realized maybe she was nervous, too.
Good. She should be.

Their awkward silence was interrupted by Bentley, who skidded to a halt near Natalie’s feet, ball Þ rmly clamped in his teeth. He looked up to meet Sarah’s gaze and cocked his head to the side, as if trying to Þ gure something out. His stump of a tail continued to wag as Sarah squatted down so he could see her.

“Hey, Bentley,” she said, her voice soft and gentle. “How’re you doing, buddy?” He dropped the ball and sat, his head still tilted and his expression looking as if he was actually smiling.

Sarah wasn’t sure he remembered her. Could he? It had been nearly Þ ve months, after all, and people were always talking about dogs having no concept of time and no long-term memory.

She’d never believed that. Her parents had a dog while she was growing up that could remember when a kernel of popcorn had skittered under the stove. For days on end, he got up each morning to lie across the linoleum with his nose pressed to the bottom of the stove and whine softly. Sarah had Þ nally used a wooden spoon to retrieve the morsel. Only then did the dog actually leave the kitchen and get on with life.