Page 63 of Married With Lies

“Hmm,” she says.

“Cale likes the rain,” I tell Peggy. “We’ll be back soon.”

Grabbing a large umbrella along with Cale’s thick arm, I tug him to the front door before Peggy has the chance to object.

The scene outside looks like a disaster movie. Rain slants sideways, the corners of the sky flare with constant streaks of lightning and the wind threatens to carry me off Wizard of Oz-style. Cale assumes custody of the umbrella and holds me close to his broad chest while positioning the umbrella to deflect most of the stinging rain.

In spite of the weather, this is a comfortable place to be; so close to him that I can smell his mango shower gel. Or is that my mango shower gel? No matter. He’s warm and he’s strong and the hammering of my heart can’t just be explained by my fear of the thunder crashing overhead.

Maybe Cale feels it when I flinch at the noise. His arm tightens around me more securely as we splash through puddles on our way to the barn.

It’s a relief to see that the barn door remains closed. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe that the horses would stampede out of here or something. But no, the barn is warm and cozy and none of the horses within seem unduly upset by the noise of the storm. I make my way to them in the darkness and even cantankerous old Wylie remains calmly in his stall and nuzzles my hand.

Cale uses the powerful flashlight to sweep the area. He’s looking around the barn with more interest than he had the first time I dragged him through here on a complete tour of Bright Hearts. I know he doesn’t have much curiosity about the ranch and yet I wanted to prove that I was making the most of the opportunity he gave me. I’m not wasting his money. Every penny is put to good use.

“You have room for more horses,” he says, keeping the flashlight pointed down so it doesn’t shine directly into my eyes.

“Yes, and we will take in more. I didn’t know much about horses and needed to make sure we had all the resources in place first. Our volunteers are fabulous but I’ve also hired a part time animal care technician to help out.”

The next clap of thunder sounds as if it’s right over the barn. I don’t even realize how loud my gasp is until Cale says, “You really do hate thunderstorms, don’t you?”

“Since I was five.” I shudder and start for the barn door, feeling my way by keeping one hand stretched out to touch the individual stalls.

Cale beats me to the door and already has the umbrella popped. I’m surprised when he automatically curls his arm around me around for the march to the next building where we find the cats a little bewildered but otherwise safe and sound.

We visit The Doghouse last. A song of mournful howling combined with a chorus of barking greets our arrival.

The power is still out and the rain is still pelting down in buckets. I’m starting to feel some anxiety over flooding. What should be done when there’s flooding? I think I remember something about sandbags. I have none of those.

Oh well. Can’t be helped now.

And I’ve got my hands full, going from one kennel to the next and trying to offer comfort to dozens of anxious dogs. Some are more frightened than others. They aren’t used to being in complete darkness. There are nightlights plugged in for when the main switches are turned off at night but obviously those are of no use at the moment. In addition to the darkness, the fierce wind makes the building joints creak, the rain is practically as loud as Niagara Falls and the intermittent bangs of thunder sound as if the sky is breaking apart.

Cale trails me as I move down the row of kennels. Now and then he reaches in to offer a reassuring pat to an eager resident. The only light comes from the beam of his flashlight. I’ve set my own flashlight down in order to tend to the dogs.

Some are terrified and remain huddled on the soft flannel beds sewn by Peggy. Others think this must be playtime and shove wet noses through the metal bars.

As for Cale, he’s been very useful in escorting me through the deluge. I’m sure this isn’t his idea of a great time.

“You don’t have to stay out here,” I say. “I’m not going back to the house until the storm is over but there’s no reason for you to lose anymore sleep.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“It’s almost one a.m.”

“Can’t adjust to your farmer’s hours. I’m a night owl.”

“Then this visit must be exceedingly boring for you.” Kneeling down, I whistle to coax a cattle dog named Ginger to the front of the run. “Hey Cale, do you mind shining the light in here?”

The beam of light captures poor Ginger shaking in terror in the far corner of the kennel run. I whistle for her again just as more thunder rumbles. Ginger shakes so hard she looks like she’s vibrating.

Slowly, I slide the kennel latch open. “I’m here, sweetheart. It’s all right.”

Her nose twitches. She crawls a few inches in my direction. After some more gentle words she inches forward on her belly. Just when my fingertips are about to touch her fur she leaps forward into my lap. She’s not tiny and if not for Cale moving with whirlwind speed I would have fallen to my back.

“Hail to the reflexes,” I say while trying to adjust to weight of the petrified dog.

Cale reaches for one of the fleece blankets piled on a nearby shelf. He unfolds it and covers Ginger. She feels secure enough to settle down a tiny bit. I’m able to shift to a cross legged pose and adjust her position so that she’s lying across my lap with her head on my knee.

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