The Lucky One(29)
Thibault called the number on the sign, and a couple of hours later, he heard the owner drive up. They made the requisite small talk, and it turned out the guy had spent twenty years in the army, the last seven at Fort Bragg. The place had belonged to his father, he’d explained, who’d passed away two months earlier. That was good, Thibault knew; homes were like cars in that if they weren’t used regularly, they began to decay at an accelerating rate. It meant this one was probably still okay. The deposit and rent seemed a bit high to him, but Thibault needed a place quickly. He paid two months’ rent and the deposit in advance. The expression on the guy’s face told him that the last thing he’d expected was to receive that much cash.
Thibault slept at the house Monday night, spreading his sleeping bag on top of the mattress; on Tuesday, he trekked into town to order a new mattress from a place that agreed to deliver it that evening, then picked up supplies as well. When he returned, his backpack was filled with sheets and towels and cleaning supplies. It took another two trips to town to stock the refrigerator and get some plates, glasses, and utensils, along with a fifty-pound bag of food for Zeus. By the end of the day, he wished for the first time since he’d left Colorado that he had a car. But he was settled in, and that was enough. He was ready to go to work.
Since starting at the kennel on Wednesday, he’d spent most of his time with Nana, learning the ins and outs of the place. He hadn’t seen much of Beth, or Elizabeth, as he liked to think of her; in the mornings, she drove off dressed for work and didn’t return until late afternoon. Nana mentioned something about teacher meetings, which made sense, since school would be starting up next week. Aside from an occasional greeting, the only time they’d actually spoken was when she’d pulled him aside on his first day and asked him to look after Nana. He knew what she meant. It was obvious that Nana had suffered a stroke. Their morning training sessions left her breathing harder than seemed warranted, and on her way back to the house, her limp was more pronounced. It made him nervous.
He liked Nana. She had a unique turn of phrase. It amused him, and he wondered how much of it was an act. Eccentric or not, she was intelligent—no doubt about that. He often got the sense she was evaluating him, even in the course of normal conversations. She had opinions about everything, and she wasn’t afraid to share them. Nor did she hesitate to tell him about herself. In the past few days, he’d learned quite a bit about her. She’d told him about her husband and the kennel, the training she’d done in the past, some of the places she’d visited. She also asked about him, and he dutifully answered her questions about his family and upbringing. Strangely, however, she never asked about his military service or if he’d served in Iraq, which struck him as unusual. But he didn’t volunteer the information, because he didn’t really want to talk about it either.
The way Nana studiously avoided the topic—and the four-year hole in his life—suggested that she understood his reticence. And maybe even that his time in Iraq had something to do with the reason he was here.
Smart lady.
Officially, he was supposed to work from eight until five. Unofficially, he showed up at seven and usually worked till seven. He didn’t like to leave knowing there was still more to do. Conveniently, it also gave Elizabeth the chance to see him when she got home from work. Proximity bred familiarity, and familiarity bred comfort. And whenever he saw her, he was reminded that he’d come here because of her.
After that, his reasons for being here were somewhat vague, even to him. Yes, he’d come, but why? What did he want from her? Would he ever tell her the truth? Where was all this leading? On his trek from Colorado, whenever he’d pondered these questions, he’d simply assumed that he’d know the answers if and when he found the woman in the picture. But now that he’d found her, he was no closer to the truth than he’d been when he’d left.
In the meantime, he’d learned some things about her. That she had a son, for instance. That was a bit of a surprise—he’d never considered the possibility. Ben was his name. Seemed like a nice kid, from what little he could tell. Nana mentioned that he played chess and read a lot, but that was about it. Thibault noticed that since he’d started work, Ben had been watching him from behind the curtains or peeking in Thibault’s direction when he spent time with Nana. But Ben kept his distance. He wondered if that was his choice or his mother’s.
Probably his mother’s.
He knew he hadn’t made a good first impression on her. The way he froze when he first saw her didn’t help. He’d known she was attractive, but the faded photo didn’t capture the warmth of her smile or the serious way she studied him, as if searching for hidden flaws.
Lost in thought, he reached the main training area behind the office. The mastiff was panting hard, and Thibault led him toward the kennel. He told Zeus to sit and stay, then put the mastiff back in his cage. He filled the water bowl, along with a few others that seemed low, and retrieved from the office the simple lunch he’d packed earlier. Then he headed for the creek.
He liked to eat there. The brackish water and shady oak with its low-slung branches draped with Spanish moss lent a prehistoric feeling to the place that he and Zeus both enjoyed. Through the trees and at the edge of his vision, he noted a tree house and wood-planked rope bridge that appeared to have been constructed with scraps, something thrown together by someone not completely sure what they were doing. As usual, Zeus stood in the water up to his haunches, cooling off before ducking his head underwater and barking. Crazy dog.