A Million Ways Home Read online

  Her voice was calm and low, but the words gave me a jolt anyway. She raised her eyebrows at me. “I know you’re very worried about your grandma, Poppy. But you need to worry about yourself a little, too. Taking off like you did was very risky.”

  I swallowed. I was plenty worried about myself — worried I’d never get back home and that things would never go back to normal. But I knew that’s not what Marti meant. “I saw a man this morning, Marti. He was sitting in a van at Manito Park, watching me.”

  She tensed. “And? Did you recognize him?”

  I shook my head. “Not really. It just scared me is all. I never saw him again after that.”

  Marti let out a slow breath. “It may have been nothing, but you’ll need to tell TJ. In the meantime, I want you to promise me that you won’t pull any more disappearing acts.”

  “Okay.”

  “No, I’d like to hear you say it.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. Thank you.” She winked at me and checked her watch. “Now how would you like to get your mind on something else for a while and go to the animal shelter with me?”

  I perked up. “The animal shelter?”

  “Remember Lizzie? Her mom, Carol, is the director, and I’m her assistant. I’ve got quite a bit of data entry to catch up on, and you can be a volunteer dog walker if you’re game.”

  Lizzie. I remembered the disappointed look on her face when I’d walked off yesterday. I’d been too focused on other things to give it much thought at the time, but now I felt kind of bad for abandoning her right after she told me her best friend hated her. “Did you know Lizzie doesn’t like dogs?” I asked.

  Marti waved her hand in the air. “She doesn’t like a lot of things, I’m afraid. But she’s really not a bad kid. She’s just made some pretty questionable choices lately.”

  “Hmm,” I said. But I couldn’t help thinking that maybe Lizzie was just impulsive like me. It would give us at least one thing in common. “Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  A few minutes later Marti and I headed across town in her red Subaru. Not her first choice in comfort, she explained, but it handled Washington winters very well.

  I was thinking about Lizzie, wondering if she’d be happy to see me or not, when Marti braked for a red light. A sketch of the suspect stared back at me from the light pole and made me shiver. A block later there was one on the front window of the Mountain West Bank, and then another on the front door of the Spokane Civic Theatre. “Guess Trey wasn’t kidding,” I said.

  Marti glanced over. “About?”

  “About plastering that guy’s face all over.”

  She nodded. “Those sketches are a pretty useful tool. It’s a great way to get the community involved in helping track a suspect down.”

  A few minutes later we coasted to a stop in front of a large, brown brick building. SPOKANE ANIMAL SHELTER was spelled out with big metal letters across the front.

  Marti led me through the double glass doors into a small lobby that smelled of urine and bleach and some type of spearmint room freshener. Off to the right side of the greeting counter, a bunch of cats dozed or played on a carpeted tree-shaped tower.

  We walked through another door into the back area, where large kennels lined both sides of a narrow, concrete walkway. A chorus of barks and howls filled the air. Hairy, hopeful faces peered out of each kennel. Most of the dogs wagged their tails, but some just stood and stared, like they didn’t want to get their hopes up.

  I understood the look in those eyes. I’d been feeling it ever since Grandma Beth’s stroke. “Hi, guys,” I crooned, my voice lost in the racket. “Good dogs.”

  At the end of the row a woman crouched in front of a sleepy-looking Saint Bernard. Lizzie knelt beside her, holding a metal tray with cotton swabs and peroxide, her face hidden behind her black-and-pink hair.

  “Hey,” the woman called when she caught sight of us, “more crazy people willing to brave the labyrinth.”

  Marti laughed. “Hello to you, too, Carol. I brought someone with me — Poppy Parker.”

  Carol smiled warmly at me. “Welcome, Poppy. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’d shake your hand, but I need to wash first. I hear you’ve already met Eliza May.”

  Lizzie didn’t smile, but she gave me a nod that seemed friendly enough.

  Carol pointed to the huge dog at her feet. “And this is Sarge. He just had paw surgery a few hours ago.”

  Sarge turned droopy brown eyes up to me without lifting his great head.

  “Is he okay?” I asked.

  “He’s doing good. Just a little out of it from the anesthetic still. He’ll be up for adoption as soon as he gets his stitches out next week.”

  She closed Sarge’s kennel and motioned us through a swinging door at the end of the hall. We stepped out into an office area and the noise level dropped way down.

  “It’s not always that bad,” Carol said. “They just get excited when someone walks through.”

  “It is too always that bad,” Lizzie said. “I’m gonna finish my movie now.”

  “Oh, no, you’re not,” Carol said. “Not yet. I still have six dogs that need a walk and a bathroom break.”

  Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Mom, jeez!”

  Carol put up a hand. “Don’t even start. Judge’s orders, remember, not mine.” She smiled at me. “But maybe Poppy would be willing to walk some dogs with you.”

  I gave Lizzie a sideways glance. “Uh … yeah, sure.”

  Lizzie brushed past me with a huff, and I wasn’t sure if she was mad at me, or the fact that she couldn’t go back to her movie. I followed her back toward the kennels. She stopped in front of a small black poodle mix and unlatched the door. She scooped up the dog and thrust her into my arms. “Here, hold Lilly.” She moved to the next kennel, pulled a leash from her pocket, and snapped it on the Rottweiler inside. “Come on, Zeus, you big ugly butt.”

  I trailed Lizzie out to a grassy, fenced area behind the shelter. She nudged Zeus through the gate and gestured to me. “Put her in here.”

  I set the little dog inside, and Lizzie clanged the gate shut. Then she walked over to a nearby oak tree and plopped down underneath it.

  “That’s it?” I said. “I thought we were supposed to walk them.”

  Lizzie shrugged. “They can walk themselves. They’ve got plenty of space.”

  Zeus peed on a clump of weeds near the gate and then happily trotted off. But Lilly stared at me with shining black eyes, her stub tail wagging furiously. “I think she wants somebody to play with her,” I said.

  Lizzie dug a cell phone from her pocket and started to text. I glanced uncertainly between her and the enclosure before I opened the gate and slipped inside. “You wanna play?” I asked the little dog. “Come on, I’ll play with you.” I clapped my hands as I walked through the dandelions, and she jumped around me doing twirls and leaps.

  After a while I glanced over at Lizzie. She’d been a lot more talkative at Marti’s. I thought again of how I’d walked off on her that day. “Hear anything from your friends?” I asked.

  She looked over and shrugged. “Not much.”

  “Well, maybe they’re too busy trying to pay off their own debt to society.” I meant it to be funny, but Lizzie didn’t look like she appreciated it much.

  “How long will it take to do your three hundred hours?” I asked.

  She shrugged again. “I dunno. Mom’s keeping track. I think I’ve done a third of it or something.”

  I puffed out a quiet breath. Trying to talk to Lizzie was next to impossible. “So, when are we supposed to trade dogs?” I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

  “Whenever,” she said, but she got up and came over to get Zeus. We took them back to their kennels and got out the next two — Pepper, an Australian shepherd mix, and Smokey, a purebred husky. Lizzie plopped down under the tree again. I went back in with the dogs. I snapped a few pictures of them and then tossed a tennis ball I’d found in Smokey’s ke
nnel. Both dogs tore after it, delighted.

  It wasn’t until we were headed back inside with Pepper and Smokey that I noticed the double kennel at the far end of the building. Inside, a large German shepherd paced back and forth, his muscles taut and his tail hung low. He trotted with a purpose, waiting until the last second to turn, as if he had someplace important to go but no way to get there. “How come that dog’s by himself?”

  Lizzie glanced over. “Oh, that’s death row over there.”

  I felt a jab to my stomach. “What are you talking about?”

  “It means he can’t be adopted, so he’s gonna be put down.”

  “Why can’t he be adopted?”

  “I dunno. You’d have to ask my mom.”

  I handed her Smokey’s leash. “Here, put him back, will you? I wanna get a closer look.”

  “Whatever. Don’t get bit.”

  I slowly approached the lone kennel. As soon as he spotted me, the dog stopped pacing and stood as still as a statue, head high, ears pricked forward. “Hey, boy,” I said softly. “Hey there.”

  He let me get about ten feet from him before letting loose with a low, throaty growl. He had the most intelligent eyes I’d ever seen on a dog, but I forced myself to look away so he wouldn’t feel challenged. “Hey there. You’re a gorgeous guy, aren’t you? Take it easy, boy.”

  I waited almost a minute, then edged closer until the low growl sounded again. “How come you’re all by yourself? What did you do that was so terrible?”

  I could feel him sizing me up, watching every move. I glanced up. “It’s okay, boy. I won’t come any closer if you don’t want me to. Good dog.”

  I was only a couple feet from the kennel when someone shouted my name. I turned, startled, and the dog jumped forward with a bark. Carol stood at the back door to the shelter, her hands on her hips. “Come away from there, Poppy. You can’t trust him.”

  I didn’t want to end our first encounter like this, but Carol was heading my way, and I knew there wasn’t a choice. I walked toward her. “He’s okay,” I said, “he just doesn’t know me.”

  “He’s not okay. He’s unpredictable. That’s why he’s out here instead of with the other dogs.”

  “Unpredictable how?”

  “Well, the man that turned him in said he bit his nine-year-old son. And then he nipped one of the other dogs the first day he was here.”

  “Where did he come from before that?”

  “I don’t know much, unfortunately. But his name is Gunner, and from what I’ve been able to piece together he’s been bounced around to several different homes. Could be why he’s aggressive. He doesn’t know who to trust.”

  “Lizzie said you might put him to sleep.”

  Carol sighed. “I can’t in good conscience adopt him out.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t his fault. Maybe the kid he bit had it coming.”

  Carol gave me a small, sad smile. “Possibly. But it’s not a chance I can take.”

  Gunner watched us, ears pointed forward, listening. It made me sick to stand there and talk about such a thing in front of him. “Do you … do it yourself?” I whispered.

  “What, the euthanasia? No, we have a local vet who takes care of it for us.”

  “But he’s so beautiful. Look at the way he holds himself.”

  Carol looked over at Gunner, and her shoulders slumped. “I know, kiddo. That’s why he’s still here. But I need to quit delaying the inevitable. Anyway, he’s off limits, understand?” She gave me a playful nudge. “If you get hurt, you won’t come back, and I need all the volunteers I can get.”

  “I’ll come any time Marti will bring me.”

  “That won’t present much of a problem. She’s been babbling about you nonstop ever since she found out Trey was bringing you home.”

  “You know Trey?”

  “I do. Marti and I have been friends for years.” She dipped her chin. “Plus I’ve gotten better acquainted with several of our law enforcement officers thanks to some antics Eliza May pulled a few months back.”

  “Yeah, she mentioned that the other day.”

  Carol’s shoulders jumped back. “Are you serious? You got lemon puss to talk! Holy smokes, I’m impressed.”

  I grinned. “She just gave me the bare details.”

  “Hey, that’s more than she’s been giving me lately. Whatever you did, please keep doing it.”

  Two pit bull mixes came bounding out the back door, dragging Lizzie behind, and I went to help her. As soon as we got them to the enclosure she went back to texting beneath the oak. I roamed around with the dogs for a while and then sat down inside the fence. One of the pit bulls came and laid his head in my lap, his tongue lolling back and forth like he was laughing. I took several pictures of him so I could maybe draw him later and then stroked his face while I watched Gunner.

  He’d gone back to pacing, but he stopped about every tenth lap to stare over toward me — almost like he wanted me to come back, like he had something important he needed to say — before it was too late.

  THAT evening while Marti watched TV, I sat beside her on the couch and thumbed through my art pad. It was full of dog sketches. Someday I’d have my own dog again, but in the meantime, drawing them was better than nothing. I found an empty page near the back and started to sketch Gunner. I erased and restarted several times until I’d come as close as I could to capturing his intense chocolate eyes, and the slope of his hips, and the noble way he held his head. Then I drew a lilac bush next to him, like the ones in Manito Park, where Grandma Beth and I liked to sit in the summertime.

  “Am I ever going to be allowed to see?” Marti asked.

  I glanced up, surprised. “What time is it?”

  “Nine o’clock. You worked through an entire episode of Sherlock Holmes.”

  I took a final glance at my sketch. I didn’t like people watching me draw, but I didn’t mind sharing my art once it was as good as I could make it. I turned my art pad to face Marti.

  Her eyes lit up. “My gosh, Poppy. That’s wonderful. I had no idea you could draw like that.”

  My chest felt lighter. “Thanks. But animals are the only things I’m good at. My people look like stick figures.”

  “Somehow I doubt that.” She reached for my art pad and took a closer look. “You have absolutely captured Gunner. I am so impressed. You really like him, don’t you?”

  “You can’t let Carol put him to sleep.”

  Marti fingered the jeweled chain around her neck. “I’m afraid I don’t have any say over that, hon. But I can assure you that Carol’s as big an animal lover as they come. She’d never put down any dog if there was another option.”

  “But he’s not mean, Marti. He almost let me walk right up to him, at least until Carol scared him and ruined everything.”

  Marti clucked her tongue. “And you shouldn’t have walked up to him to begin with.” She handed my sketch pad back to me. “Things would certainly be simpler if he hadn’t bitten that boy.”

  “The kid probably teased him, or scared him, or something. Or else, maybe Gunner’s kind of impulsive like me, and he just didn’t think it through enough.”

  Marti smiled. “Maybe so,” she said. “It’s tough when you don’t know the whole story. But if we adopt out a dog with an aggressive history and someone else gets hurt, it could cause legal problems for the shelter. All the animals could end up suffering. Does that make sense?”

  “I guess,” I said. “But even if he didn’t have a good reason for biting that kid, he shouldn’t have to pay with his life. That’d be kind of like Lizzie getting the death penalty for spray-painting the federal building.”

  Marti’s eyes got really big, and her hand flew to her mouth to cover her grin. “Oh, Poppy,” she said.

  I hadn’t been trying to be funny, but her expression made me giggle anyway. “Well, it’s true,” I said. I closed my art pad and put my pencils away. “How come Trey doesn’t like her working over here?”

  “Oh, well,
as you’ve probably noticed, she has quite an attitude sometimes, and he has zero tolerance for mouthy kids.”

  I grinned. “Lizzie, mouthy? Really?”

  Marti wiggled her eyebrows. “She tries to come across as so tough, but she honestly can be a sweet girl. You know what she’s really good at?”

  I shook my head.

  “Anything to do with hair. She cuts her mom’s hair, and she’s even done mine. And when Carol’s hair used to be longer, Lizzie would do the best French braids for her. And even though she went a little crazy with the pink highlights, they actually look very professional, don’t you think?” Marti put her fingertips against her mouth. “But please don’t tell her I said that. I’d get in big trouble with Carol.”

  I laughed. “Okay.” I looked over at the clock. It was after nine, and Grandma Beth hadn’t called, which meant she probably wasn’t feeling good. The worry of it all made me sleepy.

  Marti must have read my mind, because she reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. “Lizzie’s coming over to work in the morning again, but if your grandma’s feeling up to a visit by the afternoon, I’ll drive you there. Sound good?”

  Her hand was warm, and it sent a ribbon of warmth up my arm and around my heart. I squeezed her hand back. Being here at her house didn’t feel so weird anymore. It was starting to feel pretty good.

  A nurse from the Huckleberry Home called the next morning. She told me Grandma Beth was on a new medicine that thinned her blood and made her sleep most of the time, and that it would probably be best to put off a visit for a day or two. She’d be sure to let me know when there was a change.

  Marti made me a fried-egg sandwich for breakfast and told me not to worry. Then she sent me out to sit in the sun on the back porch and work on homework. I was drawing little doodles in the margin of my math assignment, thinking about everything except math, when Lizzie walked into the backyard.

  “Hey,” she said.

  I sat up. “Oh, hey.”

  She wore washed-out blue jeans and a black sweatshirt with a bright pink peace symbol that matched her highlights. Marti brought her a pair of garden gloves and a shovel and showed her the two flower beds that needed weeding.