Читать книгу Tiger Lilly - Sharon Vander Meer - Страница 8

Lilly went over every inch of her home. She didn’t find a single thing out of place. If it weren’t for the open suitcases with the clothing neatly folded inside she would never have known anyone was around but her. Of course they weren’t actually around and there was no indication of where they’d gone. The whining barks from the backyard were also a clear reminder she was not alone.

When she’d driven into the garage she half expected to see everything in turmoil. The only evidence anything had happened was the box of broken toys. She picked out a Barbie head and a Transformer body part that could have been anything. Why had she kept these remnants of Elizabeth and Michael’s past? They showed no interest in their childhood whatsoever. She dropped the pieces into the box and dusted her hands.

She dreaded going inside, sure the dog had wreaked irreparable damage, but everything was neat and tidy. She was house-proud, no doubt about that. Harve and she had worked hard to make it a nice place to raise a family and entertain church folks. The only areas always in a jumble were the kids’ rooms. She didn’t remember a time when Michael’s room was actually clean. Elizabeth’s had been full of sports equipment, cheerleading pompoms, and books. Shelves and shelves of books, all of which she took with her when she moved out.

Lilly cringed as a burst of barks erupted from the backyard. Wherever Annie was with her children, she wished they’d taken the dog with them. He was raising Billy heck, no mistake about that.

She leaned against the food prep island that divided the family room from the kitchen and looked toward the sliding glass patio doors. The vertical blinds were closed so she couldn’t see the dog but his almighty racket left no doubt he was just outside the door and he wasn’t happy.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since the previous evening and she was starved. With stubborn determination she ignored the barking dog and opened the fridge. The meatloaf called to her. A meatloaf sandwich, that’s the ticket. She put the meatloaf and condiments she would need on the counter. After spreading one slice of whole wheat bread with mustard and another slice with ketchup, she added lettuce, a nice slice of meatloaf and finished assembling the sandwich. She placed her lunch on the service island along with a glass of skim milk, and went to get her journal from her bedroom.

The ro-woof, ro-woof, from the backyard increased in volume. She pushed her glasses up on her head and began to write.

Peace and quiet, is that too much to ask? I guess having the house to myself for so long makes me resent having it invaded, and that dog is driving me nuts!

She took a bite of sandwich and groaned with pleasure. It was every bit as good as she thought it would be.

The patio door rattled as the dog jumped against it.

“QUIET DOWN!” she shouted and was momentarily surprised at the sudden silence, which didn’t last. When it started up again it was worse than before and the giant animal intensified its onslaught against the glass door.

Lilly’s belly clinched and she set the sandwich back on the plate. What if he came through the door? Would he attack her? She’d never been a fan of animals. Elizabeth had had a kitten once. All she remembered about that experience was the cat hair, shredded drapes, cat puke, and filthy litter boxes Elizabeth never remembered to clean. Michael tended to go for the more exotic creatures: baby alligators, snakes, rats.

“SHUT UP, DOG!”

This time the dog didn’t even pause.

“RO-WOOF, RO-WOOF, RO-WOOF!”

The shrill ringing of the phone kicked her already pounding heart into a gallop. Maybe it was Annie calling. Had to be Annie. Nobody ever called her.

She snapped up the receiver. “Yes? Hello? Annie, is that you?”

“This is Phyllis Arrington. You must do something about that animal.”

“What?”

“Really, if you’re going to have a dog, I don’t mind that, but that incessant barking is unacceptable.”

“Yes, I find it unacceptable as well. Just give me a minute and I’ll find a gun and shoot it!” Of course she didn’t say that, what she said was, “I’m sorry. The dog belongs to my niece and she’s not here right now. I’ll get him quieted down.”

“You’d better or I’ll report it to the police.”

“I understand. I’ll take care of it.”

Lilly hung up. Yes, that dog is an aggravation, but how many Saturdays has your husband woken me from a sound sleep with his lawn mowing at six in the morning? How many times have I had to listen to your drunken friends raising Billy heck at your outdoor summer parties to which I have never been invited? Not that I would go.

The patio door shuddered.

Lilly hurried over and pulled open the vertical blinds. The movement brought the dog’s activity to a halt. He settled back on his haunches, tongue lolling. What was its name? Cork? Clark? For this one she didn’t have a cheat sheet.

“Why can’t you be that way all the time?” she asked. The dog was no doubt some mix of every large breed known to man. He had a sort of Lassie face, with white markings around the eyes that made him look constantly surprised. Sitting down like that he seemed less threatening and far friendlier.

A snuffling whimper, barely heard through the glass, was the dog’s response to her query.

“Hungry?” Lilly asked. The dog regarded her quizzically. What in the world was she supposed to do? She walked back to the service island and retrieved the plate holding her sandwich, keeping her eye on the dog. As soon as she picked up the plate he stood and licked his chops.

And then she raised her eyes to look beyond the animal. The yard was a wreck. In a stupor she walked toward the door unwilling to believe what she saw. All Harve’s hard work! The container garden grouped around the patio overturned, dirt scattered everywhere. The flowerbeds gouged with holes. The remains of a lounge cushion spitting foam from a yawning tear.

Dumbfounded, she managed to unlock the door and release the security latch with one hand while she held onto the plate with the other. When she stepped out she tipped the plate and let the sandwich slide off. The dog all but swallowed it whole and sat back expectantly.

Lilly removed her glasses from the top of her head and put them on. It was worse than she thought. She wasn’t angry, just wrung out. How many hours had Harve put into this yard? She’d worked to keep it up; it was an act of love on her part. She’d never been much of gardener, but he’d enjoyed it so. Now it was a mess. Recently planted bulbs lay amid the freshly dog-dug rich soil. A sob escaped past the knot in her throat and tears streamed down her cheeks.

A warm tongue licked her hand. She looked down at Krank. Yes, that was the creature’s name, Krank. He looked back at her sorrowfully, or at least that’s how it seemed to her.

“Dadburned dog,” she said without heat. “Dadburned stupid dog.”