She turned. The man had followed her out into the street. She pivoted without a word and started up the street toward home.
“C’mon, slow down. Where are you going?”
“None of your business.”
“I just want to talk.”
She stopped and turned so suddenly that the man almost bumped into her from behind. She put one finger in his face and growled, “I’m only going to say this once: Go back to the bar. Stop following me. You’ve had your warning—I won’t tell you again.”
She started up the hill again. Behind her, she heard laughing.
“What are you gonna do, cast a spell on me? Man, you’re just as weird as everybody says!” He walked behind her as he spoke, following her up the street toward the edge of the woods.
“If you didn’t want company, what were you doing in a bar?
What happened, did you chicken out? Are you running home to your dogs now? What’s the matter, are men a little scarier than you thought?” She walked as quickly as she could, but he was taller than her and his stride was longer—she could tell by the sound of his voice that he was getting closer. She measured the distance to the edge of the woods; she wondered if she could get there before he caught up with her; she wondered if he would follow her into the woods—and what might happen if he did. She felt something dark and cold crawling up her insides and she did her best to shove it back down and just keep walking . . .
Until she felt his hand touch her shoulder.
She spun around and knocked his hand away, then raised one arm high into the air and snapped her fingers with a sound like the crack of a whip. The woods behind her seemed to suddenly come to life, and six dogs of various shapes and sizes came crashing out of the underbrush. Their leader, 250 pounds of sinew and black fur, galloped toward them like an enraged bear.
Alena calmly faced the man. “Men aren’t scary,” she said. “Now, dogs—
they
can be scary.” Her arms and hands began to move in a series of mysterious signals that each animal seemed to understand. The dogs divided and flowed around her legs like rushing water, scrambling toward their target, each one intent on its own assigned mission.
The black monster was the first to reach the man, leaping and sailing through the air like an equestrian jumper. The man stood paralyzed with his mouth gaping open, unable to comprehend that an animal so large could propel itself so effortlessly into the air. In midflight the dog rotated its head ninety degrees to the left and opened its massive maw, taking the man by the throat as if it were nothing more than a rawhide chew. The black dog’s enormous momentum knocked the man clean off his feet and sent him crashing to the ground, where the dog stood panting and pinning the man’s throat to the pavement like a croquet wicket. Two of the other dogs performed the same task with each of the man’s hands, while two more attended to his feet; the final dog took up position between the man’s legs, staring intently at a vulnerable and suddenly accessible target. The man lay there, stunned and helpless, blinking up into the dripping darkness, spread-eagled like a starfish on a beach.
Everything was quiet except for the gentle sound of falling rain.
Alena walked over and looked down at him. “Comfy?” she asked.
He stared up at her. “Tell them to let go.”
“You think I can talk to animals? I thought you didn’t believe that nonsense.”
“Please.”
“Oh, so now it’s
please
.”
The man tried to twist his neck free, but when he did the black dog bore down and sank its teeth deeper into his flesh.
“Uh-uh,” Alena said. “You don’t want to do that. He won’t let go unless I tell him to. If you struggle he’ll take it as a challenge, and believe me—you won’t win. If you try to get away, he’ll clamp down on your carotids until your brain starts to fry—not that it would affect yours very much. The dogs that are holding your hands and your feet, they’ll do the same thing. And the one that’s staring at your crotch right now—you don’t want to know what
he’ll
do. So why don’t you just lie still, okay?”
She patted each of the dogs, then squatted beside the man’s head and looked down into his eyes. “You probably think my dogs are dangerous, but they’re not—they’re just obedient. Now, you—
you’re
dangerous. You know, in the whole animal kingdom there’s nothing more dangerous than a man with a wounded ego. You started out acting all nice to me tonight, but then you got your feelings hurt because I wasn’t buying any— then you got mean. Then you started following me, and who knows what shenanigans you might have tried if I didn’t have six sets of sharp canines ready to help me out. You made me feel something tonight that no woman should ever have to feel— and I didn’t like it. So I thought maybe you should see how it feels. Got it?”
He managed a nod.
She looked at him for a moment. “It’s
Dorian
, right? No wonder you’ve got problems—what were your folks thinking? I want to ask you something, Dorian, and I’d like an intelligent answer—not just more of your macho crap. Think you can manage that?”
“I guess so.”
“Why do men have a hard time making a commitment?”
“Huh?”
“You’re married, aren’t you? But you were hitting on me in that bar. Why? Is it just so you can tell yourself you landed some bimbo? Not that I’m a bimbo, mind you.”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough, Dorian. I want an answer.”
“Well . . . it’s fun.”
“You can do better than that. Dig a little deeper.”
Dorian paused. “I guess if I can pick you up, that means I’ve still got it.”
“Got what?”
“You know . . . what it takes.”
Alena slowly shook her head, and rain dripped from the tips of her hair onto his face. “You’re pathetic, you know that? You’re married—why not go home to your wife? Let
her
tell you you’ve ‘got what it takes.’”
“I guess I like to hear it from somebody else sometimes.”
Alena looked at him. “I’m getting married on Saturday,” she said. “First time.”
“Congratulations.”
“Shut up. My fiancé was supposed to call me tonight, only he didn’t call—last night either. He promised he’d call me, but he didn’t. Why not?”
“How should I know?”
“You’re a man, aren’t you?”
“Maybe he was busy.”
“‘Sorry, hon, I can’t talk right now—just thought I’d call so you don’t worry.’ How long does that take?”
“I’m sure he had a reason. Can I go now?”
“You haven’t answered my question yet.”
“What question?”
“Why can’t men commit?”
“Look, I was only kidding around tonight. I’ve never cheated on my wife.”
“Right.”
“Never. I swear.”
“Then what’s the point, Dorian? Why the big come-on if you’re not really interested?”
“I guess I just like to know I could if I wanted to. Otherwise, I’m . . . trapped.”
Alena stood up. She snapped her fingers and made a kind of smoothing gesture with both hands; the dogs released their grips and took sitting positions. “Get out of here,” she said. “Tell your wife hello for me—and tell her I feel sorry for her.”
A
lena, stop and think about this.”
“Give it up, Gunner. I’ve made up my mind and I’m going.”
Gunner watched as Alena tossed a canvas duffel bag into the floor well on the passenger side of her pickup. She slammed the door shut with a hollow metallic
clank
, then walked around to the back of the truck and dropped the rusting tailgate. Across the gravel driveway, Alena’s dogs lined up along the kennel fence and watched as their master charged back and forth between the double-wide trailer and the truck. The smaller breeds shoved their snouts through the chain links, sniffing at the air to try to sense some explanation for the unusual level of tension and activity.
“You don’t even know where you’re going,” Gunner said.
Alena disappeared into the trailer again. “Pine Summit,” she called from somewhere inside. “Isn’t that where Nick said he was headed?”
“Alena—get back out here and talk to me.”
Alena planted herself in the trailer doorway, locked both arms across her chest, and braced herself against his words.
Gunner gave her a scornful look. “Are you planning to listen to me or not?”
“No, I’m planning to let you flap your jaws until you wear yourself out—then I’m planning to leave anyway.”
“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?”
“You’re the one who raised me.”
“Don’t blame your shortcomings on me. You were stubborn when I met you.”
“Then don’t expect me to change now.” She shot him a defiant look before disappearing into the trailer again; she returned a few moments later carrying a large plastic tub with a snap-on lid. On top of the tub were three folded white towels in tightly sealed plastic bags.
“Are you planning on camping?”
“Dog food,” she said. “I have to store the stuff in the trailer— it draws the raccoons in and they make the dogs go bonkers.”
“You’re taking the dogs?”
“Just three—that’s all I’ll need.”
“To do what?”
“To find Nick. Haven’t you been listening?”
“Alena, you’re just upset because Nick didn’t call again.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Sure I would—but I wouldn’t let my emotions do my thinking for me.”
“Neither would I.”
“You don’t even know where Nick is. Yes, he said he was going to Pine Summit, but that was the day before yesterday. Where is he now? He could be on his way back here right now for all you know—you could pass him on the highway and never even know it. Have you thought about that?”
“He’s not coming back,” she said.
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
She used her thigh to help hoist the heavy tub onto the tailgate and shoved it back onto the truck bed—then turned and looked at Gunner. “Last night I was at a bar down in Endor,” she said. “A guy tried to pick me up.”
“A bar? What in the world were you doing in a—”
“Stop being a pastor for a minute and just listen, okay? The guy was married, but he was hitting on me anyway. I asked him why, and you know what he told me? He said he does it just so he knows he can—otherwise, he feels
trapped
.”
Gunner blinked in confusion. “What does this have to do with you and Nick?”
“Is that why Nick doesn’t call me? Is that why he took off for Pennsylvania right before the wedding? Does Nick feel
trapped
—because he’s marrying me?”
Gunner sat down on the edge of the tailgate. “Alena, listen to me. There’s a big difference between your fiancé and a married man trying to pick up women in some bar.”
“They’re both men.”
“And that’s where the similarity ends.”
“I can see it in his eyes, Gunner. Every time the subject of marriage comes up, Nick’s start to glaze over.”
“Are we talking about marriage or a wedding?”
“What’s the difference?”
Gunner shook his head. “Let me tell you something, sweetheart—something no woman likes to hear.
Men don’t want to get married
—we just want to
be
married. The stupid invitations, the silly flowers, the rented shoes that never fit—we don’t care about any of it. It’s just the price we have to pay to get
you
.”
Alena looked at him doubtfully.
“You don’t believe me? In the whole time you’ve been planning this wedding, has Nick ever volunteered a single preference? Has he ever once said to you, ‘I really want
this
kind of cake,’ or ‘I just have to have
that
kind of music’?”
She barely managed a shrug.
“That’s because he doesn’t care.”