Page 4 of Rescue You

“I know.” Constance leaned against the entryway that separated the living and dining rooms. She looked tired and sad. “I had to attach him myself this morning. He wasn’t nursing like the others.”

“Dr. Winters will be at my place in an hour.” Sunny glanced at the clock over the mantel. “She can check them all over. I’ll get them loaded up soon.”

“You should call Pete, too. These pups will be good candidates for Canine Warriors.”

“You’ve only known them for one night.”

Constance shrugged. She looked just like Daddy when she did that—a lift of the shoulder so slight you almost missed it. Unlike most people’s shrugs, there was no uncertainty in the movement.I’m just telling you how it is. You can believe me or not, but I’m right.“They’re smart and have good dispositions. They’ll train easy. They’re going to be perfect for rehab dogs. Either vets with disabilities or PTSD. Pete’s going to love them.”

“You got that just from touching them, huh?” Sunny wouldn’t believe it if she hadn’t seen Constance do it a million times. She could read a dog, or a person, within a matter of minutes of assessing posture, gait, the way they carried themselves and, of course, how they felt to the touch.

“Chevy’s a fighter,” Constance said. “She’s been through hell and back, but she’ll hang on, no matter what.”

“Chevy?” Leave it to Constance to have already named the mother. She might’ve even named the pups.

Constance crossed the room, stooped down and ran her palm lightly over the dog’s head. The mother didn’t even flinch, which indicated that Constance had already “whispered” her into trust. “Chevy can come back here, if nobody wants her. After the pups are weaned, I mean.” She glanced at Fezzi, who sat nearby. “Fez is in love.”

“Good thing he’s such a gentleman.” Sunny stroked Fezziwig behind the ears. “She’d take him out in a heartbeat.”

“Yeah.” Constance rose up and ran her hands through her messy hair. “C’mon. Let’s get her loaded up.”

By the time the mother and pups were in Sunny’s van, Constance was yawning. Even though the dogs might’ve kept her up last night, the sight made Sunny’s insides sink. She had a momentary vision of her big sister, years back, dressed in running clothes and a pair of one of the several sets of Nike shoes she kept in rotation, her strawberry hair back in a ponytail and a GPS watch on her wrist. She’d streak by the dog rescue on her morning runs, wave to Sunny and the dogs as her feet pounded over the trail that ran behind the house. She ran all those winding, long trails that connected Constance to Sunny, to Pete, and even to Janice Matteri—all of them out here on this rural acreage, separated by miles but connected by dogs, both the good and the bad of it. Then Daddy got sick, and Constance’s routine changed and slowed, her mornings filled with hospital visits and caring for an elderly man sick on chemo and radiation. By the time Daddy died, Constance rarely ran at all anymore. And then, of course, came the day Constance stopped running for good.

“Remember to come try my spin class,” Sunny said. Who knows? Maybe Cici would fall in love with spin like she had the open road, way back in her cross-country days in high school. “Evenings at the shopping center and mornings at Spin City.”

“Maybe.”

“Chicken.”

“That hasn’t worked on me since I was twelve.”

“Bullshit.”

Constance lips parted in retort, then closed as her attention was diverted to the police cruiser that was pulling smoothly up to the house.

Sunny’s heart did a little flip inside her chest. The sight took her back two decades, to the first dog she, Pete and Constance had rescued. They passed by the Potter place almost every day, either playing in the woods or walking home from the bus stop. As the old Potter couple had gotten older and older, their coonhound had gotten more and more neglected. A dog that was once let inside during the cold or heat was now being left out to shiver or sweat, with no water or shelter in sight. Sunny, at the tender age of nine, had declared one day that she was going to save him, if none of the adults had enough balls—ballsbeing a word she’d proudly learned from Daddy. Pete had been game to help and Constance, always the mother, had been the lookout; she could neither bring herself to break the rules nor leave the poor creature to suffer.

The old coonhound, Bert, had followed them home willingly and had lived in secret in the basement for three days until Daddy found him. Sunny had boldly pleaded her case, Constance had apologized, and Daddy had let the hound live out his last months there under the care of both girls, “long as he didn’t have to lie to nobody or clean up any shit.” The only thing that had saved Bert was that when the police cruiser drove up, investigating the missing dog and Mrs. Potter’s insistence that she’d seen the Morrigan girls making off with him, was that Daddy had not been home to lie and Sunny had discovered that she was quite good at it.

Constance eyed the police cruiser today the same way she had back then. She squinted, then leveled Sunny with a cautious gaze.

Sunny raised her hands, palms spread. “Not me. You found Chevy wandering down the road, right?”

“Yes. The pups were on Matteri land, but at the abandoned house. There’s no way Janice could know I was there.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. You sure this isn’t about you? Because it sure looks like you raided Janice Matteri’s puppy mill again. Or got caught rescuing another dog somewhere?”

“I swear,” Sunny said. “Not recently. Plus, Janice has never called the cops before.”

“Looks like she’s stepping up her game.” Constance tore her gaze from the cruiser. “Don’t worry about it. Get those pups home. Dr. Winters will be at your place soon.” Constance tapped her watch.

Cool as ice. Exactly how Daddy had raised her. Sunny often told her big sister she’d have been right at home inside his foxholes in Vietnam.

Sunny hopped to, getting behind the wheel and starting the engine before the policeman could even get out of the cruiser.

Constance sat on a scratchy green couch and leafed through the pictures, passing one beneath the other like a woman might her wedding photos, pausing at some, holding others up to the light. A German shepherd. Maltese. Pomeranian. Greyhound.

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