Page 16 of Gravity of Love
Why hadn’t he thought about that? Of course Tristan would have asked for his mom’s ring. A deep groan of anger and frustration ripped from deep inside of him as he scrubbed his hands over his face.
It was so loud he barely heard a high-pitched whining sound. It was severe and insistent. For a split second he thought it was the microwave again. Obviously, he instantly dismissed that idea. He would have had to cook something for it to go off. That thought had just crossed his mind when it stopped. But then it started just a few seconds later. He quickly realized that it was coming from outside in the back. He ignored it, thinking maybeit was a cat, or a coyote, or some other critter on the prowl. There was a lot of wildlife in the Sierra.
As he stood and flipped off the kitchen light on his way to his room to go to bed, the whine increased in volume and pitch, making it impossible to ignore. If he tried to call it a night, he would just lie in bed awake, staring at the ceiling, worrying that there was an animal suffering.
Despite the fact that he’d rather get impacted wisdom teeth removed without any laughing gas, he went to investigate. In four strides he crossed the main living space connected to the kitchen and pulled open one of the panels of his glass accordion folding doors that spanned the entire wall of his great room. He stepped onto the deck, and a shiver ran through him at the sudden drop of temperature. The mountain air hit him like a slap in the face with its pine-scented chill, making him wish he'd grabbed a jacket. He glanced up at the night sky, where countless stars glittered across the endless inky black sky above shadowed trees.
Of course, the second his foot touched the wood planks, the whine stopped. He pulled out his phone and tapped on the flashlight icon. Tilting the phone up, he scanned the deck with the beam of light. Once, twice—it was only on the third sweep that he saw the glint of eyes. In the farthest corner, half-hidden behind a planter box, was a tiny bundle of fur cowering with huge, brown eyes.
As Liam approached, it shrank even smaller. When he got closer, he saw it was a dog with long, floppy ears tucking its tail between its legs so tight to its body it nearly touched its chin. The puppy was maybe a spaniel, retriever, doodle, or setter. It was difficult to say. It had a glossy chestnut coat with a white spot on its chest and white front paws.
“Hey,” he spoke in a low, soft tone he used with skittish patients. “What’s goin’ on?”
The dog tucked its chin even lower, as if it was trying to fold into itself to disappear. Liam crouched down, thinking maybe if he was at its level, it would be less scared. When he did, he saw the way its ribs heaved under the thin layer of fur as its entire body trembled. He recognized hunger when he saw it, and fear.
Liam backed away slowly, not making any sudden movements, went inside, and returned with his unfinished dinner. He set the food down and then sat down beside the tray with his back to the pup so it wouldn’t feel threatened. His plan worked. Within thirty seconds, the smell lured the dog closer, stepping with cautious hesitancy.
When it finally reached the food, it inhaled the chicken in a matter of seconds, then the sweet potato grits were next, licking the tray clean with frantic, desperate energy. Once those were finished off, Liam picked up the carrot and held the bite out to the pup.
Liam waited, barely breathing, fingers pinched around the vegetable disc as the dog debated whether or not to trust him. Soulful brown eyes flicked from the carrot to Liam and then back again. He watched as the dog’s body stayed rooted in place, a good foot away from him, but its neck stretched and it gently retrieved the offered food with its front baby teeth, then quickly pulled its head back to safety to eat it. Next, Liam picked up a green bean, and it was the exact same routine: eyes flicking, neck stretch, gentle grab, immediate retreat, eat. By the time Liam was picking up the final carrot, the dog had moved so it was not only standing beside Liam but also had one paw on Liam’s leg, as if to say, “Hey, I’d still like more food, don’t forget I’m here.”
Once the tray was empty, he held it and allowed the pup to lick it clean before he stood to go back inside. Without so much as a command, or invitation for that matter, the dog followed him, head held high, tail wagging, paws click-clacking over the hardwood like it always belonged there. Liam noticed that it hada hitch in its back step. He wasn’t sure if it was hurt or maybe just stiff. The dog didn’t seem to be in pain, but he wasn’t exactly a dog expert.
Figuring if it was that hungry, it was probably also thirsty, he filled a bowl of water and set it down. The dog lapped at it greedily, water sloshing over the edge onto the tile floor.
When it was finished, it sat down on its haunches and looked up at him with those enormous eyes as if to say, “Okay, what next?”
“What am I going to do with you?” Liam asked as he crouched down and let the dog smell the back of his hand.
The dog sniffed his knuckles, then ducked under his fingers and pressed its head up against his palm, nuzzling into him, stretching its neck up, not giving Liam any choice but to pet it.
He almost laughed. There was something about this dog, some familiar mischief and defiance bottled inside its little body, as though the universe had sent him a living, breathing reminder of the best, bossiest thing he'd ever known.
Frankie.
I’m losing my mind, he thought. That had to be it. First, the scent. Then feeling her presence. Then her in dog form.
He shook his head. “I don’t even know if you’re a girl.”
As if on cue, the dog rolled over on its back to get its belly rubbed and revealed that, in fact, she was a girl.
This was getting ridiculous. He was just tired. He’d been up for nearly forty hours. He stood and looked down at her and announced, “Bedtime.”
Liam briefly considered the implications of bringing a stray animal into his bedroom, thought about fleas, ticks, and whatever else she might be carrying, then shrugged. It wasn't like he was sharing the bed with anyone else these days.
Without any encouragement, she followed beside him as he walked to his room. She stayed in the shotgun position as hewent through his nighttime routine. She followed him into the en-suite bathroom and sat on the mat as he stripped out of his clothes and tossed them into the basket, flossed, and brushed his teeth.
She didn’t take her eyes off Liam as he made her a makeshift bed of a pillow, throw blanket, and towel in the corner of the room. “You sleep here.”
Clearly unconvinced, she eyed the blanket bed and then stared up at him. He picked her up, and it was the first time he realized just how tiny she was. He could fit her entire body in his hand, literally. As he set her down in the middle of the fluffy blanket, her ribs were cradled in his palm… she was just skin and skeleton, she had no meat on her at all.
“Stay,” he commanded before going to his bed, sliding under the cool sheets, and shutting off the lights.
For a moment, all was silent. Then, from the corner, came the unmistakable sound of a dog whining—high, nasal, and persistent.
“Go to sleep,” he instructed firmly.
The whining stopped for a second, then returned, louder this time. He pulled the pillow over his ears, determined to outlast her. But the noise got louder and louder. It wasn’t until he felt his blanket pulling that he realized she was pawing at the side of the bed, whimpering with the conviction of a creature who knew exactly how to break down human resistance.
