“Their loss, Walmart’s gain,” Cal said.
Chuck laughed again, paused, and said, “Listen. If the weather gets bad and you can’t drive to Cleveland on Wednesday, you’re welcome to come to our house for Thanksgiving.”
Cal appreciated the invite, though short of a blizzard, he knew he would be going home.
They ended the phone call. Cal spent the rest of the evening grading papers. Right before bed, he walked Bailey again and locked up for the night. In the morning he would finish the last few papers at school before the students arrived. Not stopping at the coffee shop gave him another thirty to forty minutes every morning. He missed the lattes, but he didn’t need all those extra calories anyway.
The scent of fresh sheets welcomed him to bed. Seeking the right neck support, Cal stuffed the pillow under his head. Bailey jumped on the bed and settled in beside him. “No snoring, buddy,” Cal said, and closed his eyes.
He woke to the sound of his ringtone. The clock registered twelve thirty. The caller ID on his cell read “Heidi.”
Cal sat up and switched on the light.
“Hey, Heidi,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Don’t panic, but I need you,” his sister said.
“Not a good way to start a call. Are the kids okay?”
“They are, but Dad fell again.” Her voice was rushed, and he heard sounds in the background—a car starting, an electronic voice reminding the driver to fasten their seatbelt. “We think he was rolling his garbage can back up to the house,” she said. “The neighbor found him in the driveway and called the squad. They took him to the ER. I’m on my way there now, but it doesn’t sound good.”
“What was he doing outside this late?” Cal threw off the covers and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.
“I don’t know. The nurse who called said Dad was confused. He might have bumped his head, or he fell because he was dizzy or disoriented.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The blankets on the other side of the bed erupted into a plume of shaking dog fur. “Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to bury you.” He pulled back the covers, and Bailey jumped to the floor.
“Are you talking to your dog again?” Heidi asked.
“Yes,” Cal answered.
“Can you leave him home?” Heidi asked. “One less thing to worry about. We might all be pretty busy.”
“I’ll figure something out. Call if anything changes.” Cal made a mental list as he strode to the closet—dress, pack, call Mitch to arrange for a sub, establish pet care. Tomorrow he would call to have his mail held. He had filled the gas tank yesterday.
“Drive safely,” Heidi said.
“Always.”
After slipping on the jeans and T-shirt he had worn earlier in the evening, Cal opened his closet and pulled out his duffle bag. Bailey sat beside the bed scratching his ear. “What am I going to do with you?” Cal asked.
Heidi was right. He couldn’t take Bailey with him. If Cal needed to be at the hospital round-the-clock, he didn’t want to leave Bailey alone at his father’s house. Heidi and her kids would step up if needed, but Cal didn’t want to impose. They all had busy lives.
After stuffing jeans, khakis, underwear, socks, and T-shirts into the duffle bag, he went to his closet and pulled out three button down shirts. He would hang them in his car. Mission accomplished, he sat down on the bed and hit a contact number. Mitch answered the phone, his voice sleepy but surprisingly gracious about being awakened.
“No problem, Cal. Good thing Parker’s on board for trivia. Take all the time you need.”
Cal thanked him and ended the call, noting the cynical thought that Mitch would probably be happy if he didn’t return at all. And then, without thinking twice, he pressed the very number associated with Mitch’s assumed preference that Cal would return never.
“Cal?” Bryony asked.
“Sorry to call late,” he said.
“I was awake,” she said.
“I have to go to Cleveland. My dad fell tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Is he okay?”
The concern in her voice caused a hitch in his throat. She was someone with whom he could have shared his fears about someday losing his father. He ignored the surge of feeling and pressed on. “I don’t know. I’m leaving in a few minutes. Would you mind taking care of Bailey while I’m gone? He’s very little work. A walk in the morning. A walk at night. Food in his bowl. Water. He won’t drag you through the mud again. I’ll make him promise. I’m so sorry to ask last minute, but I think Bailey and I would both be happier if he stayed home.”
“I guess so,” Bryony said. “I’ve never taken care of a dog before.”
“He’s not much trouble. I have a cat now, too. You aren’t allergic, are you?”
“You have a cat?”
“Buggy showed up a few weeks ago.” Cal didn’t say, about the time you and I ended. “She’s a stray, and for some reason Bailey loves her, even though she bugs the heck out of him, hence the name.”
In addition to the addictive detective series, caring for the cat had kept him interested in something other than making a nuisance of himself with Bryony.
“Wow,” Bryony said. “I’m amazed. I don’t see you as a cat person.”
She was right, and Cal wanted to tell her the whole story, but that would never happen. He needed distance from her. A clean break. Because even though he’d declared himself understanding of her need to back off, nothing he thought or felt agreed with that plan. He’d only called Bryony for help because he couldn’t think of anyone else to ask on such short notice, in the middle of the night. “The cat requires minor oversight. I’ll leave a note and put everything you’ll need on the kitchen counter.”
“What if I mix them up, give the dog the cat’s food and vice versa?” Bryony asked.
Cal laughed. “They’ll be waiting at the door with sharp knives when you return.”
