garbage. I’m just reaching the top of the driveway when he’s leaving.
“See you around!” he shouts out his window.
I turn around to watch him go. It’s a huge relief to see the trash leaving with him. Now I have a fresh slate to start with.
As I imagine that blank slate, I’m suddenly inspired to paint something. It’s a sensation I haven’t had in a long time, so I turn around and rush up the front steps. I need to get a canvas framed up so I can start right away.
A loud, long honking truck horn and then the sounds of shouting make me stop and turn around. I can barely make out Ben’s voice from the porch.
“Son of a bitch! Watch where you’re going! You almost made me wreck my truck, asshole!”
Asshole? Who’s on my driveway now?
I stand on my tiptoes, trying to see who my visitor might be.
Chapter Ten
AT FIRST I SEE NOTHING, but then a very small brown speck appears in the snow. I go down the few steps to the ground and stare at my visitor. He carefully picks his way over the globs of mushy snow and jumps when the drifts are too high for walking.
“Jaws, what are you doing out here?” My heart feels so light it’s as though it’s going to float away. He followed me home! Now I don’t have to worry about him freezing to death. Hallelujah . A glance up at the sky brings another wave of relief. Now I won’t have to be alone during the storm, too.
He stops twenty feet away and sits.
“What are you stopping for? Come on, Jaws, come inside.” I take a step towards him.
He growls.
A sigh of exasperation flies from my lips. “Wha… Jaws? What the heck are you doing? You can’t follow me home and then growl at me.”
He growls again.
“Fine. You want to stay out here and growl? Stay out here and growl. I have firewood to move.” Forget painting. The muse has abandoned me once again, and I need to have a fire going before the cabin turns into a deep-freezer.
I start with the pieces nearest the stairs, getting two at a time into my arms. A path of slushy muck soon forms between the pile and the stairs.
At first I have this idea that I’m going to stack everything perfectly, a pyramid of wood just a few paces away from the front door. But as the sun disappears behind clouds and the snow starts to fall again, I abandon that idea and work on getting the wood under the shelter of the roof overhang any way I can.
After an hour, I’m only half done, all of it accomplished under the watchful eye of Jaws, the growling, punk dog. I talk to him the entire time.
“You know, this would go a lot faster if you’d help.”
His head moves back and forth as I work.
“I could probably rig up a little cart and a harness. What do you say?”
At least he doesn’t growl at me now when I look at him. Gee, it only took him forty-five minutes to warm up to me. Little jerk. I fed him a whole can of food; you’d think I’d earned some sort of trust with that. I guess not.
“I suppose you’re expecting another can of food. I don’t know why, though. You haven’t lifted a paw to help since you got here.”
I have to stop to wipe my hair out of my face. The snow has turned it into a sopping mess. “What do you think?” I ask my friend Jaws. “Can we save the rest of this for tomorrow maybe?” His expression looks like a yes to me, so I turn around and head for the porch, two logs in my arms.
“Okay, so back into the house I go. I have to build a fire. Are you coming?” I look at him over my shoulder, but he just stands there.
“I’m going inside, Jaws. If you don’t come in, you’ll freeze out here. The temperature’s already dropping in case you hadn’t noticed.”
I drop the logs on the pile that’s spread out over half the porch and open the front door. “Come on in, little guy. I have tons of food in here. You’ll eat like a king, I promise.”
He stares at me, but doesn’t make a move.
“Is your butt frozen to the ground or what?” I’m only half kidding. When I can’t
S. J. Kincaid
William H. Lovejoy
John Meaney
Shannon A. Thompson
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Hideyuki Kikuchi
Jennifer Bernard
Gustavo Florentin
Jessica Fletcher
Michael Ridpath