Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(20)

“Okay, okay,” Caroline answered. She turned back to the door, and the dog followed. She pushed it open and pointed a finger. “Out.”

The dog lowered his head and started toward the door. He stopped halfway through and looked back at Caroline.

“Go on,” she said, trying to sound firm. Once the dog was outside, she stepped to the counter and ordered an egg sandwich and coffee to go. A moment later she added, “Also, give me a hamburger and a cup of water.”

“The half-pounder or the quarter-pounder?”

“Half-pounder,” she answered. “No pickles.”

The dog was waiting at the door when she left. “Come on, scruffy,” Caroline said, “I bought you lunch.”

Before she ate her food, Caroline unwrapped the hamburger. Afraid a dog that hadn’t eaten in a while would get sick on a big meal, she broke it into bite-size pieces and slowly handfed them to him. When the hamburger was gone, she set the cup of water on the ground. The dog lapped the water then curled up at her feet, not sleeping, but attaching himself to her.

Earlier in the day Caroline had been in a hurry—a hurry to get going, a hurry to move beyond Philadelphia, a hurry to get to Georgia. But now, like the dog, she was content to sit and let the sun warm her back. When she finished her meal she bent to pet the dog. His fur was matted in spots, and he had the smell of day-old rain. She felt for a collar, but there was none. No collar. No tag. “You poor baby,” she murmured and continued to pet him.

The dog nuzzled closer.

After almost two hours, Caroline stood and scuffed the dog’s head one last time. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’ve got to get going.” She dropped the lunch wrappings in the garbage can and started toward her car. The dog followed.

“You can’t come with me,” Caroline said sadly. “I’m sure you’ve got an owner who’s going to be looking for you.”

The dog whined.

“I don’t even have a place of my own,” she explained. “How can I give you a home when I don’t have one?”

The dog sat back on his haunches and raised his front paws.

“Oh, sweetie,” Caroline said, “you’re begging, aren’t you?”

The dog gave a short yap and held the position.

“But I don’t have a home to give you,” she reiterated.

The dog remained in position.

Twice Caroline turned toward her car, and twice she turned back. Each time the dog was still begging. She opened the car door and turned back one last time. The dog was still begging. “Oh, all right.” She laughed. “Come on.”

The dog darted across the lot and jumped into the car.

As Caroline pulled back onto the highway, she glanced at her new friend. “If we’re going to be traveling together, I suppose I should give you a name.” She drove for miles trying out names like Max, Fido, Buster, and even Scruffy. Nothing was right. Like her, the dog was getting a new start and he needed the right name. She was passing through Richmond when it came to her clear as day.

“Clarence!” she exclaimed.

Caroline was a firm believer in Providence. Just when she’d begun to feel low the dog had come along, an angel of some sort, scruffy perhaps, but a sure sign she was headed for a wonderful life.

When she crossed into South Carolina they stopped for the night. After they’d scarfed down another round of hamburgers, Caroline found a K-Mart and spent twenty-six eighty-one on dog supplies. That evening they showered together, and afterward she spent nearly two hours combing the tangles from his fur. That night they slept in the bed together, and, unlike Greg, Clarence pressed his body close against hers.





Caroline





I never had a dog before and never really wanted one, but now that I’ve got Clarence it makes me realize what I’ve been missing. He isn’t the cutest dog that ever lived, but he’s sweet as pie. Last night when he was leaning up against my thigh, I started wondering what kind of person would run off and leave a sweet dog like this. After a long while, I figured it out. Whoever left Clarence there with nothing to eat and no place to go is probably a lot like my daddy.

The truth is you’re better off without people like that, whether you’re a kid or a dog. In life there’s good people and bad people. Mama wasn’t either one, she was just plain unlucky. She used to say, “Caroline, if I hadn’t met your daddy, I could’ve lived my life a happy woman.” She said it in a sort of joking way, but I think it was probably true. Once in a while Mama would forget missing Daddy and she’d be happy as a kid. It didn’t happen all that often, and when it did it didn’t last very long. We’d be joking and having a good time, then she’d spot some little thing that reminded her of Daddy and slide right back inside her misery.

The difference between Clarence and Mama is that he got treated badly then bounced back, but Mama, she never bounced back. The best you could hope for was a hop, skip, and a jump every now and again.

I’ve only known Clarence for a day, but already he’s my best friend. You know why? Because me and that dog are equals. I feel like he’s as glad to be with me as I am with him. It wasn’t that way with Greg.

Given the fondness we’ve got for each other I can’t see myself getting rid of Clarence, so I sure hope Missus Sweetwater doesn’t have a dislike of dogs.