For Love Of A Dog. Janice Carter

      “We’re just about to go down for dinner, Kai. Let me call you back.”

      “But I told Tony I’d let him know about the seed drill rental. He’s got a list of people, and the sooner I get on that list, the sooner I can organize the planting. After I get the fields turned over, of course.”

      Margaret heard the frustration in her daughter’s voice but distance muted it, minimizing the problem. Compared to Harry’s ongoing recovery, the farm was trivial. What did it matter whether the fields got turned over or even planted? Harry had been talking retirement for the past three years right up to David’s death, when everything in their lives—even the farm—had come to a standstill.

      “You decide then, dear, if you really want to go ahead with this.”

      “Well, I’ve already posted some flyers in town for help. I guess I just wanted confirmation from you that Dad would be okay with it. What would he want?”

      Margaret closed her eyes, fending off the urge to scream. “Who can say, Kai? Your father barely speaks.” Much less acknowledges my presence, Margaret wanted to add. When he wasn’t going through his exercise regimen, Harry seemed content to sit and stare into space. Most of the time Margaret felt a part of the general landscape of the hospital, no more meaningful than one of the generic framed prints scattered on the walls. She sometimes wondered why she bothered visiting every day, but quickly dismissed thoughts that only served to heighten her own frustration. Besides, she felt that were she to return to the farm, Harry might never rally.

      “But—”

      “Look, Kai. You’ve helped with enough spring plantings to know what to do. If you choose to go through with it this year, follow the usual routine. Heavens, go see Bryant next door if you need any advice.”

      “Dad would disown me!”

      “Right now he’s not doing much of anything, so I think you’re safe.”

      There was a moment of silence. Margaret pictured Kai counting to ten.

      “All right. I’ll see how things go. If I can make it happen, I will. For Dad. I think he’d be pleased. And I’m not going to contact Bryant unless I’m desperate.”

      “Whatever you think is best, dear. I’ll give you a call at the end of the week. Oh, and by the way, have you managed to get rid of that dog yet?”

      Another pause. “Um, not yet. But I’m working on it.”

      She knew her daughter well enough to guess what that cryptic answer meant, but pushed on. “You saw how upset your father was. Just seeing another dog around the farm brings it all back.”

      “Well, it’s interesting that Thomas hasn’t had the same reaction. And he was there that day, too.”

      “Your father blames himself. It’s different.”

      “But that’s the point, Mom. He doesn’t need to. It was an accident. A crazy, freak accident that no one could have prevented, and there’s no point in having this argument all over again.”

      The pitch in Kai’s voice told Margaret to drop it. “Do what you can. Please.” She disconnected before Kai could respond. Then, dabbing at her eyes with the paper towel, she summoned a bit of a smile and walked back into Harry’s room.

      “Ready to go for dinner, honey? I think it’s shepherd’s pie tonight.”

      She looked down at her husband and the grimace on his face. Well, she thought, some of those facial muscles are coming back, anyway.

      * * *

      IT HAD BEEN a good morning. Thomas had boarded the school bus without the usual long face or foot-dragging. They’d established a routine now that obviously pleased him. Kai and Amigo accompanied him to the county road and waited for the bus, which always signaled its arrival with three horn beeps. As the bus door opened, Thomas bent to pat Amigo before ascending, paused at the top of the steps to wave goodbye to Kai, then proceeded to his seat. She had recently noticed that he’d begun to sit beside someone. This was a good sign, she decided, and an obvious improvement over his slouching shuffle to the back of the bus to sit by himself.

      Before the accident, Kai had gathered, Thomas had had two playmates visit the farm several times, and he’d been to both of their homes. But after Thomas stopped talking, the boys no longer wanted to come. According to Margaret, though, Thomas had improved from the totally withdrawn child he’d been in the first weeks following his father’s death. That was due, in large part, to seeing the psychologist.

      But Kai had expected to see more progress on her return to the farm. The Thomas she’d known on her sporadic visits home just wasn’t there anymore. Like her father. She felt herself tearing up and took a deep breath. Losing it now would do no one any good. She whistled for Amigo, who was snuffling through the tall weeds in the roadside ditch.

      Walking back to the house, Amigo trailing behind, Kai reflected on how much the place had changed since she’d left home at eighteen to go to college.

      The first few years the changes had been gradual. After David’s marriage to Annie, his high school girlfriend, and his decision to stay on the farm, Harry had a bungalow built for them on the property. It was understood that David and Annie would take over the soybean operation once Harry retired. Then he and Margaret would switch with the younger couple, moving into the smaller house and letting David take over the farmhouse. At least that had been the plan until Annie’s cancer diagnosis, when Thomas was five. That was the moment, Kai figured, when everyone realized life followed its own course. In the months after Annie’s death, no one had imagined that more tragedy was in store for them.

      She stood at the end of the gravel lane, surveying what was left of the Westfield family farm. Fifty acres, where once there had been two hundred. When Annie started her cancer treatments, Harry and Margaret began selling off parcels of land to help with medical costs. Most of the acreage went to Bryant Lewis, who had been pestering Harry for years to sell. But the sale had widened the gap in their childhood friendship, and David’s accident had ruled out any chance of a reconciliation.

      Amigo bounded past her, knowing where she was headed. By the time she reached the chicken pen, he was waiting patiently.

      “You can look as innocent as you want, my friend, but there’s no way you’re getting anywhere near those hens.” Growing up on a farm left one with few illusions about the animal world. Kai knew even a family pet—not to mention a dog like Amigo, with his mixed pedigree and life as a stray in Afghanistan—could not be trusted in a henhouse. She shooed him aside while deftly slipping through the door into the pen. The proximity of the dog had sent the hens flapping to the rear, which gave her a chance to get into the coop.

      She took the eggs into the house, leaving Amigo sitting by the pen. When she’d first brought him home, she’d kept him on a leash for several days. She’d known nothing about his personality and didn’t want to risk his running off, especially onto Bryant Lewis’s property. But he’d eventually figured out the range of his new territory and kept to their lot. Perhaps some instinct told him the land beyond the wire fence was off-limits, and Kai hoped he’d never stray there.

      Midafternoon there were still no responses to the ad she’d posted on the town’s website. It had been a week since she’d told her mother she was going to start the planting, and so far she’d had no replies to her ad. Perhaps a few more hard copies tacked up in obvious locations around town would help.

      Noticing the forlorn expression on Amigo’s face as she headed for the pickup changed her mind about leashing him to the clothesline pole. She whistled once and he trotted toward her, tongue already lolling in anticipation of open-window breezes.

      * * *

      DRIVING SOUTH FROM an overnight motel stay in Toledo, Luca wondered why he’d never been to Ohio. Never had a reason to, likely, but the countryside beyond the city limits was lovely. Expanses of farmland gradually took over from suburban sprawl. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen great tracts of arable land.