Page 60 of River
“Not abstract. I like to see a story in the pictures. Here, let me show you an example of his work.” I leaned back to fish my phone out of my pocket and searched for the artist. “What do you think?”
“Huh.” River sat up and scrolled through his catalog. She stopped at a picture of what looked to be trolls and fairytale figures in a forest. “I love the softness of his strokes and the innocence of the trolls. They’re so childlike.”
“I think it’s the sense of old folklore and imagination that speaks to me.” I shrugged. “I don’t know anything about art, but his pictures always make me feel better.”
“And isn’t that one of the greatest gifts of art: to make us feel?”
“Cheers,” I raised my glass to her.
“Cheers.”
We smiled at each other before drinking.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you drink alcohol,” I noted.
River returned to eating the rest of her food. “I enjoy wine and champagne now and then, but you’re right. I try not to drink too often. Back when I first moved to London, I used to drink and party way too much. Every day there was a party, and the people I hang with are generous. There were always bottles on the table and coke for those who wanted it.”
“You did coke?” I lowered my brow.
“Relax, officer.” River smiled. “I never touched it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s simple. My mother is in the mental hospital, and my biggest fear is to end up like her. The first time I went to see her, there was a girl around eighteen or nineteen who sat rocking in a chair, looking around with crazy eyes. They said she had experimented with drugs, and it screwed up her brain chemistry. The girl had severe anxiety and paranoia, and at one point, she screamed at us like we’d come to kill her. It affected me deeply to see the fear in her eyes.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen people like that. It’s sad.”
“Every time someone offered me drugs over the years, that girl popped up in my mind. So no, I’ve never touched drugs, but I drank plenty, and that’s why a few years ago, I made a decision to be mindful about it. I eat better now and only drink alcohol on rare occasions.”
“In that case, I’m honored to share this bottle with you.” I clinked her plastic glass with mine and drank.
We shared a moment of silence, and then River asked, “Do you miss your job as a cop?”
I thought about it while waves rolled up on the beach only to pull away again. The movement provided a lovely soundtrack to our evening, and from the street behind us, muted music sounded from the bars and restaurants. Stretching my feet out, I answered, “It’s been six months, and if I’m honest, I don’t miss it half as much as I thought I would. I miss my dog and the training we did together, but there were parts of the job as an officer that I never liked. If I could, I’d work as a dog trainer or an animal communicator.”
“What’s that?”
“Someone who can speak to animals.”
To my relief, River didn’t laugh.
“How does that work?”
“I guess the best word to describe it would be telepathy. I’m reading a book by Fleur Linden right now. She’s one of the leading animal communicators, and I’m in awe of her abilities.”
“That sounds like a remarkable profession: to talk to animals.”
“Right?” I nodded. “About two years ago, we had a guest trainer from Holland who had trained with Fleur Linden, and it was incredible to watch how he could get our dogs to do things we’d struggled with. That’s when I knew I wanted to learn the sort of animal voodoo Linden teaches. The problem is that if I follow my dream of becoming a dog trainer, then I’ll need to leave the police force. And if I leave, I’ll have to give up Nala. I love that dog.”
“Couldn’t you just take her with you?”
“Maybe, but she loves doing what she’s trained for, and she’s good at it. It takes time to train a skilled canine officer. The right thing to do would be to let her continue with someone else. Right now, she’s working with my colleague Camilla, and Nala seems happy.”
River took my hand and gave me a sympathetic smile. Then her chin lifted up, and she tilted her head. “Oh, I love this song.”
From the streets, a pop song flowed to us. The sun was setting and casting a gorgeous orange glow on the beach.
“Would you like to dance?” I asked and stood up, offering her my hand.
