Currant Creek Valley - By RaeAnne Thayne Page 0,22
in the fall, the bare spots where she hadn’t planted bulbs.
She would have to ask Claire to add Caroline’s yard to the Hope’s Crossing Giving Hope Day, when the town residents gathered together to help their neighbors in multiple ways. The event was still several weeks away, though. Maybe she could grab her mother, Evie and Claire before then and have a work party to handle some of the more pressing needs.
In the meantime, she had deliveries to make. She opened the back hatch of her SUV and pulled out the first dozen of the meals she had fixed. Leo thrust his brown nose between the seats to watch her out of big, curious eyes.
“Do you want to come?”
He actually moved his head as if nodding, though she knew no dog could be that smart. Her mother would probably consider taking a strange dog into someone else’s home rude but she happened to know Caroline loved dogs. Her own beagle-cross mutt had gone to doggie heaven about four years ago, but Alex had vivid memories of Caroline in overalls and floppy straw hat, working in the garden while her dog looked on.
Cancer could be a bitch. In Caroline’s case, the chemotherapy had messed with her brain chemistry and a series of resulting strokes had left her clinging to her remaining independence with both hands.
She rang the doorbell and waited several long moments. Finally, after knocking again, she tried the knob. It turned in her hand and she pushed open the door.
“Caroline? It’s Alex. Are you home?”
A moment later, she heard a shuffle-shuffle-thud and Caroline’s walker came into view.
“I’m here. Hello, my dear.” Caroline’s voice was a little garbled, as if she spoke through a mouthful of the smooth, shiny stones at the bottom of her goldfish pond.
“Sorry. I was...in the laundry room...moving a load from washer to dryer.”
Every time Alex visited, Caroline’s once-strong frame seemed to have dwindled a little more. She only weighed about eighty-five pounds, her wrists so thin a child could probably circle them with thumb and forefinger.
“I told you I was coming this morning. Why didn’t you wait and let me help you?”
Despite the fact that she could only get around with her walker, had little energy and fought steady pain, Caroline hated to be a bother to anyone.
“It’s enough...that you come to visit. I don’t need you to do for me, too.”
Leo chose that moment to move into the room, sniffing at the legs of one of the stately Queen Anne recliners Caroline favored.
The left side of Caroline’s face lifted in a smile while the right remained immobile. “A dog! I didn’t know...you had a dog!”
“I don’t. Not officially, anyway. I found him running loose downtown last night. I’m just keeping him company until we find his owners.”
“You’re a beauty. Yes, you are.” Leo stood with touching docility as Caroline rubbed his head with one gnarled hand.
For just a moment, she had the crazy idea of leaving the dog with her friend, but reality quickly intruded. That would never work. Caroline could barely take care of herself, try as she might. She couldn’t handle the needs of another living creature right now, though Alex was convinced she was getting better every day.
But if she was going to respond with such enthusiasm, Alex could certainly bring the dog around to visit while he was staying with her.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you? What’s your name?” Caroline murmured.
“I’ve been calling him Leo. He doesn’t seem to mind it.”
“Why should he? It’s a good name. I had a beau once...named Leo. He ended up marrying my best friend’s little sister and moving to...Grand Junction.”
She kissed her friend’s papery cheek. “Idiot. He didn’t know what he had.”
“Oh, he knew.” Her half smile was mischievous. “I dumped him...long before then. Broke his heart, too, I did.”
“I’ll bet you did, along with dozens of others.”
“Not that many...but a few.” It might have been the way her mouth could only lift partway, but her expression suddenly seemed pensive and almost sad.
Alex couldn’t allow that. “I’ve brought you a few meals for your freezer,” she said, quick to change the subject. “All of them have instructions, as usual, and they’re in individual portion sizes. All you have to do is thaw them first, either in your refrigerator or the microwave, and then heat and eat.”
“You need...to stop doing that.”
“If I don’t do it, my mom will, and we both know I’m a much better cook.”