Page 6 of Wag More Bark Less

Walter lifted his cap, scrubbing a hand through his thinning hair. My gaze snagged on wrinkled skin and age spots. If Walter served in the Korean War, he had to be ninety. Maybe older. Grandpa was just shy of ninety-five when he passed three years back. The thought made my heart ache. I’d never not miss him. As the youngest grandkid until my sister Violet was born, I’d been his favorite little shadow.

“We’re on our way to Michigan,” I explained. “But we thought we’d take the scenic route. Heard this was the place to be in autumn, so we charted a detour. Plus, Ellie was born here.”

“In Bluebell Springs?”

“Paws of Purpose,” I clarified. “Do you know it?”

“Oh, sure. Ken and Jenny do good work. Ken’s the treasurer for the Legion, you know.”

“You have an American Legion in town?” I asked, surprised.

Admittedly, I hadn’t had a lot of time to research the area on account of blowing up my life and stuffing everything that didn’t fit into the back of my Forester into a shipping container.

“It’s right across the street from The Daily Scoop,” Walter said. Before I could ask if that was the local newspaper office or an ice cream shop, he asked, “That’s where I’m headed now.”

“Monthly meeting?” I guessed.

Walter gave me a look that suggested he had questions, but he just said, “No, not today. Some of us just gather on Thursday nights. You know, to tell old war stories. Walking there keeps me young.”

“I better not keep you, then,” I said, despite the temptation to ask to hear some of those war stories. Ones I suspected might sound a lot like the ones Grandpa used to tell. We had a month, I reminded myself.

I backed out of the kitchen, patting my thigh at Ellie to follow. She considered the command she knew very well for two whole seconds, but ultimately ignored it as she looked to Walter for another treat.

“Okay, one more,” Walter said, caving.

I shot Ellie a look, but she refused to make eye contact with me until she accepted another treat from her new friend. Her stubbornness knew no bounds, especially when treats from strangers she deemed friendly were involved.

“Thank you again for coming to my rescue, Mr. Smalley.”

“Walter, please.” Only when he’d sealed the box and slipped it back into the cupboard did Ellie trot toward me. He reached for the sock, but I shook my head.

“I’m afraid that belongs to you now,” I told him. Ellie’s long, furry tail wagged leisurely in agreement.

“I’ll treasure it,” he promised Ellie.

I backed into the living room, my gaze catching on a handful of framed photographs, some color, some black and white. Many of them family photographs if I were to guess. I was about to ask about the older woman in a fiftieth anniversary photo when I spotted a police SUV through the screen door. One parked in the neighboring driveway of my temporary residence.

“He didn’t,” I grumbled, clenching Ellie’s leash in my hand.

“What’s that?”

“I have to go.”

“Wait.” Walter dug in his jacket pocket as I moved toward the front door and pulled out a wrapped caramel chew. “A treat for you, too.”

“A caramel?” I froze, just staring at the candy in my palm. Grandpa used to carry caramel chews in his pocket, too.

“A little sweet treat never hurt anybody.” He winked at me, and I considered giving the man I’d met less than ten minutes ago a hug.

But before I could tackle the poor man with overly aggressive affection, my gaze snagged on a tall man in uniform rounding the condo as though he’d been searching the backyard for a runaway criminal. “For crying out loud,” I muttered.

“Everything okay?” Walter asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Mr. Smalley—Walter—it was a pleasure meeting you. And I so appreciate you allowing me to use your washroom. You are a true hero. Thank you for the caramel. Hopefully, I’ll see you again soon.” In a mumble under my breath, I added, “If I’m not police-escorted out of town before your meeting ends.”

THREE

LUKE