Paradox Love: Paradox Love Book 1 (11 page)

“Well, it isn’t
unfair
, either.  And let me explain why.  Having a sweet dog like Lucy in your life is going to be one of the best things that ever happened to you.  I promise.  I really promise.  And you know I don’t promise anything unless I’m sure.”

Nathan looked up for the first time since the whole thing started.  That part was true.  Dad didn’t make a lot of promises, but when he did, you could believe him.  Still, he wasn’t ready to give in just yet.

“I don’t want her.  I don’t want her here.”

“Well, I understand that’s how you feel right now.  But that will change.  It
will
change.”

Sandra returned, happy to see that Nathan was finally talking.  His face was a mess of hot, splotchy, redness. 

“I’m ready go to bed now.”

“Okay, baby.” Sandra took his hand.  “You want a book tonight?”

“Yes, please.”

She looked to Luke and gestured with her eyes toward Molly’s room.  He responded with a half nod, but didn’t get up until she and Nathan were in his bedroom.

It wasn’t that late, but somehow it felt as though this afternoon’s practice happened days ago and that his trip to pick up Lucy could not have possibly occurred today.  He was more exhausted than if he’d practiced for two hours in full gear himself.

He pushed Molly’s door open slowly.  The room was dim.  She was curled up in her bed, sleeping soundly.  She’d fallen asleep with a party hat attached to her head.  He gently pulled the string from below her chin and placed the hat on her bedside table.

Lucy was nowhere to be seen.  His eyes shot back and forth across the room, but he made no sudden moves.  He didn’t want to wake Molly.  He looked under her desk, under a mound of stuff animals.  He called to Lucy in a whispering voice.  No response. 

He looked to the closet and saw that it was open slightly on one side.  He moved forward and pulled it open the rest of the way.  And there she was, backed up as far as she could go into the corner, wedged between a box full of books and the closet wall.  She looked at him with one eye only, as one side of her face was covered by its own pink party hat.  He bent to pull it off before rubbing the top of her head.

He tried to coax her out, but she would not budge.  Her eyes told him why.  They said everything.  Good or bad, right or wrong, her nights with Kyle had been spent just like this.  Bunched up in a space too small, too dark and devoid of contact.  And yet, it was what she knew.  It was where she felt secure at this moment.  It broke his heart to leave her there, but it was the right thing.  For now. 

He could not have known how torn she was.  The smell of him was drawing at her to leave that little space and once again feel the security of his closeness.  At the same time, the events of the day had taken their toll.  And like her previous master, she was falling back on old habits of retreating into a dark space and shutting down.  She watched him step away from the closet and go to the bedroom door before pressing her paws into the carpeted floor and scooting herself back as far as the walls would allow.

* * * * *

A spear of sunlight cut through the tiny slit between Molly’s bedroom curtains.  The warm ray found its way through the open closet door and settled upon Lucy’s closed eyelids.  She blinked in response, having never before had the pleasure of being awoken by the morning sun.  She’d slept through the entire night without waking.  Another first.  She emerged from the closet with a yawn, stretching her limbs. 

The room was full of interesting scents she’d never had the pleasure of discovering.  The smells in Kyle’s home had been markedly caustic, dominated by the odor of bleach, ammonia and air freshener.  This was more organic, more pleasing to the snout.  She loved this place already. 

She made her way toward the bed where Molly was still sleeping soundly.  She wasn’t sure how best to get the child’s attention.  Her belly was asking for its quarter cup, her bladder needing for a path to the yard.  She sat there silently at first, head up and on alert for the slightest indication of movement. 

After a moment, she took a more direct approach.  She whined softly from a place deep her throat.  No response.  She moved closer to the bed and tentatively stood, her paws resting against the mattress.  She was not tall enough to peek over it.  More whining.  The child’s face was not far from her own.  She could hear its gentle breathing.  She whined a little louder. 

Then finally came a stirring from above as Molly wriggled and stretched on the bed.  All at once, memories from the previous night flooded her little head.  For a second, she wondered if it had been a dream.  She shot up and scanned the room, hoping to confirm that it was real. 

She leaned to look out over her bed to the floor below and was elated to see the sweet face looking up at hers.

“Lucy!”

Lucy responded with a chirping bark.  It was the first sound Molly had heard from her.

“Awe Lucy!  Keeping talking, girl!”

More barks in response.  Molly giggled, unable to contain her amusement.  And in that instant, the generally subdued beagle pup discovered her inner vocal beagle.  The energy generated by the child’s infectious laughter got Lucy’s heart pounding.  She could not help but wish to communicate with an equal intensity.  With no forethought, but only her instincts to guide her, she tilted her head back, her nose toward the ceiling and let out a howl to accompany the laughter.  The gesture set Molly off anew, her laughter exploding yet again, with Lucy’s howls now coming one after another.

There was no way for the rest of the family to adequately translate the boisterous sounds.  They had never lived with a dog in their home.  And until they learned the meaning of such a raucous, their only reaction could be alarm. 

All at once, Luke and Sandra burst through the bedroom door.  Before them a human pup on her bed, positioned on all fours and howling, her little neck arched to the ceiling.  On the floor before her, the beagle pup doing the same, its tiny mouth stretched into a conical shape in order to produce the best beagle howl possible.  Without understanding it, these two young girls were declaring in the most instinctual way possible, “We are family.”

* * * * *

Luke was true to his word.  Being the parent most often at home, he’d taught the kids the ins and outs of pet care.  Little Molly had the maternal instincts of a person much her senior.  She wanted every part of feeding, brushing, bath time and play time.  And aside from Luke, Molly was Lucy’s favorite. 

Nathan was a different story altogether.  He wasn’t afraid of Lucy, yet he stubbornly clung to the powerful shock associated with the night of her arrival.  No matter what anybody said, they couldn’t make him like dogs.  He didn’t like them.  He never would.  His own transference into this life had come with its necessary veil of forgetfulness.  As such, he could not have known that his former life had also been punctuated by a dysfunctional relationship with a member of the canine species.

And for a child so young, Nathan had the true misfortune of wrestling with more than one internal conflict.  He was too serious for a child his age, made even more so by the circumstances of his young life. 

He had a daddy, his
real
dad.  But daddy lived in another state.  He’d left the family, “in the blink of an eye.”  That’s how Nathan explained it, whenever there was a reason to.  He’d heard the phrase before, and it seemed fitting to describe the abrupt loss of his father.  Nathan had gone to sleep one night, just a regular, ordinary night.  And in the morning daddy was gone, in the blink of an eye. 

Before he knew it, there was a new man in their lives.  It seemed that daddy had left and came right back as someone else, as Luke.  They were different people.  He knew that.  But sometimes it was just tricky, keeping it all straight.  Sandra suggested that they call Luke dad, reserving “daddy,” for their biological father.  She thought it would be less confusing that way.  It wasn’t.

As Molly’s attachment to Lucy grew, Nathan’s reaction was equal and opposite.  His internal resistance was stubborn and strengthened in proportion to every giggle from Molly and every wag of Lucy’s tail. A once understandable fear of dogs was now becoming an irrational collection of thought processes, one compounded upon the next. 

Since Lucy’s arrival, he’d had numerous instances to give up and give in to the infectious joy Lucy brought to the rest of the family.  Even as he occasionally caught himself smiling at some silly Lucy-induced event, those odd and darkening thoughts were quick to overcome that tiny joy and replace it with something else.

His observations were quite accurate when it came to the “pecking order,” according to Lucy.  It was obvious to him that Luke was her favorite.  Lucy was a friendly dog, but when she had a choice, she stuck to Luke.  When he was not around, Molly would do.  If there was no Molly, Sandra was the last resort. 

And if none of them were around, Lucy wasn’t around either.  If Luke was gone and Sandra was helping Molly with her bath, Lucy would vanish.  It didn’t take her long to understand that hanging out in Nathan’s company alone was not a safe place to be.  When there was no one watching, Nathan was free to be completely honest about his feelings.  And that honesty came in the form of kicks, pinches and other physical contact.

Lucy found her sanctuary from the torments bundled up tight in Molly’s closet, where she’d spent her first night in the home. She was fortunate only that Nathan did not go out of his way to find her.  Lucy was keenly observant to the family’s daily patterns.  And if for some reason she found herself vulnerable to Nathan’s cruelties, she hightailed it to just that spot.  On occasion, Luke would find her there, his assumption only that it was a place of comfort for her, a psychological remnant of her former life with Kyle.

Although there were hours of happy bounding, barking and chasing about the house, Luke was aware of an abiding sadness behind Lucy’s eyes.  And in moments of reflection, there were flashes of guilt.  He knew how attached she was to him, how she sensed his moods. In observing her sadness, he wondered whether she was merely reflecting back the sadness she sensed in him.  He thought about it enough to do a little research, discovering that yes, a dog will often instinctually adopt the disposition of its master.

His keen observations were at least partially correct.  Lucy was a product of her experiences to this point.  She most certainly would have become a different version of herself, had her life begun in better place.  She’d been born into a metal crate with her mother and litter mates.  The pups were separated from their mother as soon as weaning could take place.  Then when the pups had demonstrated a reasonable aptitude for housetraining, they were put up for sale.  So Lucy moved from a crate surrounded by family to another crate, a solitary confinement crate with Kyle.

And it was that extended confinement that stifled the canine GPS she’d brought back with her.  Had Luke not come to her directly in this life, she likely never would have sought him out.  That instinct had been muted by the power of her experiences. 

She knew she loved him.  She found her most contented moments simply existing in his presence.  But the tenacity that was Grace, the part that wanted to be back here on Earth more than anything, was stifled to the point of near silence.  Lucy knew only knew that she loved Luke as her savior and her comfort. 

The sadness in her eyes, that was a mixture of all these things.  The heartbreaking intensity of a sad beginning in this life, of feeling alone.  And now there were new things to be sad about.  This human, this man, she loved him.  And yet from him also, there was a sense of sadness.  It was not the same as Kyle, but in some ways, it brought her back to that lonely feeling.  And on top of that was abuse suffered at the hands of the boy child. 

Yes, Lucy’s eyes were an expression of sadness, but Luke could never have understood the complexities of that emotion.  Those eyes were speaking to him all the time, trying to explain.  But the translation was lost, muddled, muted. 

Lucy came to accept the mixture of sadness and joy found in Luke’s company.  The sadness was most certainly not as powerful as the peace his presence brought her.  And she would be content to take the good with the bad.  She was used to the sadness.  She could live with it. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A house with children is a busy place.  And there were times that the chaotically happy energy was palpable, contagious.  There were times that Lucy seemed to discard the cloak of this lifetime’s costume and escape for reprieves of freedom.  Sometimes playtime got her heart racing such that she could not contain herself, and she sprinted in the yard with the abandon of a fireman’s hose escaping the grip of strong hands. 

Sometimes she howled from a place so deep inside that it were as though she were releasing her very soul to the sky.  Sometimes the sadness within was shut away for just long enough that she could experience the true joy of being a dog, a dog who belonged to someone.

A dog’s life is a speeding train.  Even when at rest, their hearts are in a constant race, plowing ahead of us.  They live their lives in fast forward mode, while humans, with their slower rhythms, take our sweet time.  And all the more bittersweet it is, the life of a dog.  Too excited for every simple event in life to hold back, they zoom ahead toward the next joy. 

Sometimes they slow enough to spend quiet moments with ones they love.  And those are magic moments – moments when a human being might enjoy the illusion of a dog’s life slowing down to match our pace.  Moments spent snuggling, stroking, whispering.  They do their best in those times to slow down for us before they go racing ahead again. 

It was just a tiny speck in a storm of dust, just an inkling that might be noticed for the briefest time before being lost again.  But that grain of sand in a desert of memories seemed to counsel Lucy that time was speeding by, that every quiet moment spent ignoring her racing heart to match Luke’s pace was precious. 

She would lay next to him on the couch, having quickly learned that it was an effective way of keeping him put.  Luke hated to move when she was so relaxed, her head in his lap.  There were times that he should have been doing something else, should have long since risen, but often he would ignore the call and exist with her there a little longer.  He sensed her need for comfort and he wanted to give that to her.  He had no understanding that those needs stemmed not only from the experiences of her young life, but from dangers within his very home.

Nathan bore witness to the growing bond between Luke and Lucy, which fed a storm of growing resentment for the both of them.  He began to refuse backyard playtime invitations from Luke, instead retreating to his room.  He would spy through the window as Luke, Molly and Lucy played without him. 

Luke would sometimes see his little hands holding open the blinds watching them.  He’d gesture for Nathan to come and join them, but those hands would instantly retreat, as Nathan backed away from the window.  Luke would leave Molly and Lucy to come inside to talk to him.  But there was no breaking down that wall.

More than once, Luke urged Sandra to seek professional help for Nathan.  While Molly had adjusted readily to the divorce and subsequent introduction of Luke as a stepfather, it was clear that Nathan was slower coming along.  These withdrawals from normal interactions with the family had Luke concerned for his mental wellbeing.

Sandra was resistant.  No one in her family had ever seen a therapist, and to her mind, there was a stigma attached to the need for that kind of help.  Her pride had her afraid that Nathan might be branded some kind of troubled kid.  She also worried that taking him for counseling services now might set him up to be dependent going forward. 

Having himself benefited from the help of professional counselors, Luke’s perspective was a stark contrast.  He recognized that the best time to address such behaviors was at their genesis.  The alternative was merely to hope Nathan would “Grow out of it,” as Sandra suggested.

He initiated one such discussion in the kitchen one evening after dinner.  The children otherwise occupied, Luke brought it up again, as he loaded the dishwasher and Sandra went about wiping the counters. 

He watched her spine straighten as he said the words.  “I really wish you would consider having him see somebody.  I’ve got experience with this.  I’m sure I could find someone good for him.”

He couldn’t help himself.  He absolutely knew where it would lead, but he simply could not help himself.  He wasn’t baiting her.  He didn’t want to fight.  The truth was, he loved Nathan.  He’d come into this family and he loved them.  All of them.  It was clear that Nathan was being set up for greater problems down the road and it was equally evident that Sandra’s stubborn denial was clearing the way for just such a future.  He thought if he made it clear he wasn’t backing down, that Sandra would eventually see his persistence as a sincere concern.

She spun to face him, her grip tightening around the wet rag in her hand.

“Why do you insist on projecting your issues onto Nathan?  I mean, clearly that’s what this is.”

Now that one he was not expecting.  It caught him completely off guard, most especially because it was categorically untrue, and obviously a dig at him.  It was an indirect way of saying that real men didn’t seek that kind of help, that Luke’s past was full of weak moments and that because he’d once needed help, he was somehow less of a man.

He swallowed before responding.  He didn’t want to escalate the discussion.  “I’m not projecting anything.  I want him to thrive.  And if he gets the right help now, he’ll have that chance.” 

He should have left it at that.  She stopped for a moment and he knew she was contemplating what he’d said.  But he didn’t force himself to pause a second time and the words trickled out before he could contain them. 

“It’s like you take it as a personal failure to admit that your son needs a little help.”

That was a fatal error.  Sandra tossed the rag across the room and it landed with a splash into the sink next to him.  The comment hit too close to home. 

“There’s nothing some shrink can do for Nathan that I can’t do for him myself!  There’s no magic words they’re gonna say to him that will be any better than mine.  I know
my
son.”

That was another typical dig, referring to the children specifically as hers, as though the time, love and commitment he’d shown them qualified him as something akin to a babysitter and not a parent.

She was now stomping off to their bedroom and he was close behind.  What ensued next was just another version of what had occurred on so many previous occasions.  There were just different words.  Different sentences strung together for the same purpose. 

He hated that there was yelling in his house.  He hated his role in making it a regular occurrence.  And once their arguments reached that crescendo, there was just no way of diffusing it.  He knew what it did to a kid, because he’d lived it. 

He closed the door behind them and tried to take it down a notch.  The natural inclination was to lower his voice as they continued, hoping that she would follow.  But that infuriated her.  From her perspective, he’d picked a fight just for the sake of it.  And now he expected her to whisper.  Wasn’t going to happen.

Her anger had her flinging words that had little to do with the situation at hand and more to do with her own frustrations.  She was the mother of two young children and already into her second marriage.  She’d fallen hard and fast for Luke.  After ignoring every bit of wisdom from friends and family, she’d married him just six months after her divorce. 

She already knew marriage number two was another crash and burn.  She felt stupid.  There was no other way to say it.  The sting of that realization felt like brutal retribution for her foolish decision to marry him. 

These fights were building to something.  She knew it and he knew it.  And given the inevitable nature of that realization, she afforded Luke little if any weight in decisions regarding the children. 

In this moment, she was grateful that he could not read her mind, because she had this flash of a thought cross it just then.  It was awful and ironic and she was ashamed to think it.  But it was there. 
Why bother getting Nathan into counseling now?  Might as well wait until after this divorce and deal with the whole mess at once
.

Luke couldn’t yell back at her.  All he could picture was the two children glued to their beds, each holding a pillow around their heads to block out the noise.  That’s what he’d done so many times as a child.  Instead he would say some last words about how he didn’t want to yell.  He just wanted to clear the air.  Didn’t matter how he said it or what the words were.  It was always the same.  One more angry line from her and it was time for retreat. 

He’d grab his keys and head for the door.  Sometimes more yelling came from behind as he left.  Sometimes it was a slamming door.  Once in a while something spoken softly but with a potent sting nonetheless. 

This time it was, “Yeah.  You do that.  Run away.  It’s what you do.”

He opened the bedroom door to see Lucy scrunched up in the farthest corner of the hallway.  The kids’ doors were both closed.  He knew that she would have been with Molly otherwise.  Lucy didn’t like the yelling either.  And when he gestured her to follow, she was up and after him instantly. 

When he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, she knew it was time for a ride.  She stayed close on his heels, whining in anticipation.  He opened the door to the SUV and she jumped in without coaxing, taking a seat on the passenger side. 

The night was cool, but he left the windows down, so that she could stand with her front paws at the window’s ledge, her head outside the vehicle.  The wind in her face, she could fully enjoy scents and smells sucked into her nostrils and expelled again in rapid succession.  There was no better way to ride.

She knew the route.  They’d taken it enough times.  Luke pulled into the parking lot and Lucy’s heart raced at the anticipation of what was to come.  He opened the door and she bounded out.  He was unconcerned as she sped off ahead of him.  She knew the way.  He smiled at her excitement. 

She seemed to understand that this field was a place of reprieve for him.  More than that, it was the one place where she could sense true happiness in him.  She was as excited to feel that contentment within him as she was the opportunity to let loose herself.

The lights were off, but the night was clear.  A bright moon and a sky full of stars were enough to see by.  Lucy was already off and running, scanning the field ahead of her.  The tennis ball would be coming any second now. 

Off to the left, it zoomed over her head before bouncing and rolling along.  She raced ahead to snatch it up and speed back toward him.  Dropping it at his feet, she arched back her head and barked as if to say, “Again!  Again!”

As Luke’s arm rose to send the ball flying, she was already racing back the other way, waiting for it.  Over and over they went like this.  And Luke would always know when it was time for a break.  Although Lucy’s heart wanted to run that field forever, he could see her slowing down.  It was then that he would take the ball that last time and settle someplace in the grass comfortably on his back, his eyes scanning the sky. 

This seemed to be their pattern.  They’d play hard and with abandon, forgetting everything and everyone else.  For that briefest time, it was all about these tiny flashes of joy in and amongst the longer hours of loneliness. 

In quiet moments such as this, Luke would let in contemplative thoughts that he’d never shared with anyone.  Was she out there anywhere?  Was Grace there somewhere?  Had she forgotten him?  Had she found some kind of peace and moved on?  Or was she waiting for him? 

Of all the moments of grief and regret, the greatest was the raw powerlessness of it.  There was never an answer.  No signs, no reassurance.  Just the quiet night and the electricity of a million stars.  Lucy scooted closer to him and rested her chin on his chest just then, her expressive beagle eyes finding his.  He stroked her head and smiled at the sweet face.  “Good girl, Lucy.  Good girl.”

* * * * *

The days whizzed by.  With football season in full throttle, Luke was gone more now.  Sandra was always beginning or ending some new project at work, which had her leaving early and arriving home late.  Their frenzied schedules provided a natural buffer between them and served to postpone the inevitable.  In the meantime, life went on.

The children spent longer times with sitters.  Molly, being the younger and more friendly of the two, was the beneficiary of the greater proportion of attention. 

It was just one more thing for Nathan to add to his growing list of complaints.  But he learned to capitalize, understanding that without the constancy of prying eyes, he was free to torment Lucy with increased frequency.  And because he’d never been caught, the brazen nature of these acts was growing. 

Lucy tried to keep from his company, but it was less and less avoidable.  More than once, Molly had come running from another room after hearing her let out a pained wail.  Nathan would behave as though completely perplexed and offering no explanation. 

“Dogs are stupid.  They bark for no reason,” he shrugged. 

Molly would call Lucy away with her and Nathan would smile at their backs.  He was winning.

As acting is not one of a dog’s many notable talents, it grew obvious by the day that Lucy was afraid of Nathan.  She might lose her bladder when he came into the room.  She might be found frantically scratching Molly’s closed bedroom door in an effort to escape.  Still, no one would have dared contemplate the disturbing truth.