My Sunshine (24 page)

“What the hell are you trying to do, kill yourself?” he cried.

“Oh, Isaiah, isn't he
sweet?
”

Laura was nose-to-nose with the puppy. Before Isaiah could reply that the dog was the homeliest critter he'd ever clapped eyes on, she was making kiss-kiss noises.

“Are you
out
of your mind?” he cried again.

She gave him a wide-eyed, incredulous look. “He was about to get run over. I had to save him.”

The drivers of the cars backed up in both directions, bumper to bumper, were starting to blow their horns. Isaiah grasped Laura's arm. “We've got to get back in the Hummer. We're blocking traffic.”

Laura tightened her arms around the puppy. A second look at the mutt confirmed Isaiah's first impression: It was the ugliest puppy he'd ever seen.
Oversize
didn't say it by half. The thing had paws the size of flapjacks, and its block-shaped head promised to be massive in adulthood. Worse than the puppy's incredible size, though, was its coloring. It looked as if it were part dalmatian, with rottweiler ears tossed in for good measure, and the loose skin of a shar-pei to make
homely
downright ugly. The poor thing was white with black splotches and spots, only the splotches and spots had run together, creating an overall blue effect.

“Come on.” Isaiah led Laura toward the Hummer. Once there, he said, “The cars have stopped now. You can turn him loose.”

Her eyes went as round as quarters. “I can't do
that!
”

Isaiah was starting to get a very bad feeling. He met her imploring gaze over the hood of the vehicle. “Why?” he asked cautiously.

“Well,
because!
”

He hated it when women said that.
Because.
What the hell did that mean? In Isaiah's experience, it usually led to trouble. His mother used this tactic. So did his sister, Bethany, and all of his sisters-in-law. When they had no rational explanation for a decision, they always said, “Well,
because,
” the overall implication being that no male of the species could possibly understand the intricacies of their reasoning because all men were somewhat mentally impaired.

“Laura,” he said in a reasoning tone, “he probably belongs to someone.”

“No, sir. He has no collar.”

Oh, boy.
Through the drifting snowflakes he gave the dog a long look, ignoring the fact that people were now beginning to lay on their horns. Both the animal's eyes looked as if they'd been blacked. And its ears were oddly asymmetrical, one partially black and cocked forward over its right shiner, the other gray and hanging straight.

“The absence of a collar means nothing with a puppy,” he tried. “Some people don't put a collar on a dog until they're older.”

“His ribs are poking out. I'm not leaving him. He was nearly killed!” She looked at Isaiah as if he'd suddenly been transformed into a monster—a
heartless puppy murderer. “How can you ask me to do that?”

Oh, boy.
Isaiah glanced at the cars. Those in the opposite lane were now starting to move, and the street was narrow. He would have to shut the Hummer door for them to get by. He sighed, accepting that this discussion would have to be resumed later.

“Get in the car then,” he commanded. “We're blocking traffic.”

“With the puppy?”

“Yes,” he replied resignedly, “with the puppy.”

Once all three of them were safely inside the Hummer, Isaiah drove slowly up the street. Laura crooned to the puppy, saying, “Poor hapless baby.” The windshield wipers went
swish-whack, swish-whack,
pushing snow into mounds at either side of the glass.

“You can't keep him, honey.”

“Of course I can't. But I can find a home for him.” She made more kiss-kiss noises and brushed her cheek over the top of the puppy's head. “Isn't he darling?”

Isaiah had just been thinking that no one in his right mind would adopt the poor thing. He was the last person on earth to hold a dog's bloodlines against it, but this pup had a really bad case of the uglies. Laura held him as she might a baby, on his back in the crook of her arm, putting his nether regions in full view. Definitely a male. And he was going to be a
huge
animal. Normally Isaiah could look at a mongrel and make an educated guess as to its origins, but this pup was a boiling pot with blotched fur. Part mastiff, possibly? Those ears
were definitely rottweiler, though, and the loose, wrinkly skin around the head and shoulders still screamed shar-pei. Some fool hadn't kept the gate locked. Maybe several damned fools. A generous dose of dalmatian blood had surely been tossed into the mix.

“Well,” he said cheerfully, “we'll just drop him off at the Humane Society before we go for lunch. How's that for an idea?”

“No!” she cried. “What if no one adopts him?”

So, Isaiah thought sagely, he wasn't the only one who thought the pup's looks were lacking. “A cutie like that? He'll get sprung from jail in a couple of days.”

Laura thrust out her chin. “He isn't going to the pound.”

“Pound? Sweetheart, the term is archaic.” Isaiah fleetingly wondered when he had gone from calling her Laura to calling her sweetheart. Even worse, it felt really
right.
“Nowadays strays are in high cotton until they're adopted. They have bedding, just like at the clinic, and all the volunteers who absolutely
love
animals take care of them. The Humane Society even has a Web site. They have pictures and write-ups about each animal. They also advertise on the radio. He has the best chance of finding a good home there. They screen applicants very carefully.”

“I think we should call him Hapless,” she said. “Isn't that a cute name? It was almost the first thing I said, that he was a poor hapless baby.”

Inwardly, Isaiah groaned. He'd known that drawn-out
because
would lead to trouble. “Sweet—”
He caught himself and backtracked. “Laura,” he said with exaggerated patience, “let's really
think,
okay?” When he glanced over at her, the sharp gleam of intelligence in her eyes had been replaced by bewildered confusion. She clearly wasn't in the mood to be rational. “Where will you keep him until you can find him a home?”

She just kept looking at him. At
him.
Isaiah returned his gaze to the road, saw that the light had turned red, and slammed on the brakes so hard that the puppy almost catapulted from Laura's arms into the dash. “Jesus Christ.”

“
That
is uncalled for,” she said heatedly. “Just because you're miffed is no excuse to take the Lord's name in vain.”

“I'm sorry.” When had she turned into his mother? “It's just . . .” It was just what? That he'd almost killed all of them, including the self-satisfied-looking Hapless, by running a red light? “I can't keep a dog, if that's what you're thinking.”

“He's not a dog.”

True. He was a spotted version of Attila the Hun. “If not a dog, what is he?”

“A tiny puppy.”

Tiny
was not a word to describe that dog. Isaiah glanced askance at one of the paws dangling over Laura's arm. “Well, puppy, dog, whatever, I can't keep him. Get it straight out of your head.”

 

Forty minutes later Isaiah was making a bed for Hapless in the metal shop behind his house. As he plumped up an old pillow on a pile of towels and blankets, he found himself understanding his
father for the first time in his life. More than once he'd watched his dad wage verbal war with his mother and always come out the loser. Given the fact that his mom wasn't much bigger than a minute and Harv Coulter was a rugged, well-muscled man who stood over six feet tall, Isaiah had never understood the dynamics that took place between his parents during an argument. How could a big man who'd never taken shit off anybody always end up the loser in a disagreement with his wife?

Now Isaiah had an inkling. He couldn't recall volunteering to keep Hapless at his place, but somehow Laura had maneuvered him into it anyway. It was something about her eyes. She'd looked at him in a certain way, which in retrospect Isaiah could describe only as pathetic, and the first thing he knew, he'd been saying,
Well, okay, but only for a couple of days.
Now here he was, creating a dog bed for a puppy who had missed his calling to the stage.

“Oh, sweetie, you'll like it here,” Laura was saying in that slow, soft way of hers. “You'll see. Isaiah is a vet. He'll take very good care of you.”

Hapless made a mournful sound, half whimper and half growl. When Isaiah glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Laura had crouched down to pet the puppy, which was now draped over her bent knee.

“Don't carry on so.” Laura looked up. “I'm afraid he'll get cold out here.”

There was absolutely no way that Isaiah meant to put a pooping, peeing puppy in his house. “Nah. He'll be fine. Dogs are amazingly resilient.”

“He isn't a dog. He's just a baby.”

He was also a con artist, Isaiah thought, but that was beside the point. Laura had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker, and Isaiah couldn't quite bring himself to tell her no. What was that all about? He'd never had a problem telling a woman no. It was a simple word, no, and it could be expressed in several creative ways, by simply saying, “No,” or by saying, “No way, babe.” In pressing situations, he'd even been known to tell a woman, “No damned way.” But somehow, with Laura, not even the short, straight-to-the-point version had found its way to his lips.

“Do you have a heating pad?”

Christ.
Next thing Isaiah knew, the damned mutt would be sharing his bed. “No. A heating pad's not necessary. He was wandering the streets, Laura. This shop is warm enough. It'll seem like a palace to him.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she whispered, her tone aching with sympathy. “I wish I could take you home with me.”

“He'll be fine, Laura. He's got plenty of food.” Isaiah pointed to the sack of Science Diet puppy kibble that they'd picked up at the clinic. “That stuff isn't cheap, you know. It's the canine version of T-bone steak. And he's got water and chew bones. Not to mention a nice bed. He'll be absolutely fine out here for a couple of days.” Just as a precaution, Isaiah tacked on, “He'll only be here long enough for you to find someone to adopt him. Right?”

Laura nodded and kissed the top of the puppy's head. “You'll be fine, Hapless. Yes, you will.”

Hapless groaned and whimpered, stretching his neck as far as possible to lick Laura's face. Isaiah straightened and put his hands on his hips—a typical stance for a Coulter male when he felt outflanked. He'd seen his father and all his married brothers assume the same posture when they tried to reason with their wives.

“I don't know about you, but I'm famished. Let's leave Hapless to eat his lunch while we go have ours.”

Groan, whimper, groan.
Isaiah could have sworn the mottled, overgrown puppy had a Mensa IQ, and he was quickly becoming convinced that this particular canine had played the part of Romeo Montague in a former life.

“Come on, honey. I've agreed to put him up for a few days. He's got great accommodations here. What else do you want?”

She gave him a look that made him wish he hadn't asked. “I'd just feel better if he were in the house, where it's warmer. He's so little and helpless. What kind of person dumps a tiny puppy on a busy downtown street?”

Isaiah raked a hand through his hair. “I don't know why people dump animals, period, let alone a young puppy,” he finally replied.

The admission forced Isaiah to take a mental step back and try to analyze his unreasoning reaction to this puppy. He was a vet. He spent every hour of every day devoting himself to the welfare of all kinds of animals. Why, then, did this young dog,
who'd never done anything to deserve this kind of abuse, make him feel so resentful?

Normally Isaiah loved all animals on sight, but he'd taken an instant dislike to Hapless, undoubtedly because Laura had so foolishly put herself in danger to rescue him. Every time Isaiah remembered how she'd dashed out into traffic, causing countless drivers to slam on their brakes to avoid hitting her, he did a slow burn. Even worse, each time he recalled how the automobiles had fishtailed on the ice, his balls shriveled to the size of peanuts.

Okay,
he thought,
this isn't about the dog.
Only, if it wasn't about the dog, what the hell was it about? Laura, he guessed. And admitting that, even to himself, was going to take him places he was reluctant to go. It seemed a lot safer, all around, to blame the entire incident on the dog. It was a lot less complicated, at least.

“He'll be fine out here for a little while,” he offered. “I have the day off. After we have lunch I'll come home and check on him.”

Laura sighed. Then, after she'd gazed deeply into the puppy's eyes, her expression went all soft and luminous. “He is
so
darling. Don't you think?”

Isaiah stepped around to give the puppy an assessing look. He was sort of cute, he guessed. Sometimes babies and puppies could be so ugly they were oddly appealing.