When he’d called Amanda’s house after Cecelia had cried on the porch and she answered, he hung up without identifying himself. The second time, the little girl hung up on him when he asked to speak to Amanda. He picked up the phone to try one more time then thought better of it. If Amanda’s mother was still there, he didn’t want to have to identify himself to her. He had heard enough about her reaction to Amanda’s pregnancy that he didn’t want to stir that pot … for Amanda’s sake. He ate the apple and tossed the core in the waste can along with the pizza slices before heading into his bedroom. He lay down, his thoughts filled with Amanda, his body reacting as if she were lying next to him, as she had every evening during the workshop. He swore to himself, got up, turned on the shower and stayed under the stinging streams until the cold water had him shivering.
The next day, he called Evie again.
“What is it this time?” she asked.
“I need—that is, I was wondering if you could help me figure out how to handle Cece.”
“Did you talk to Amanda?”
“Yes, and I told I loved her and she seemed to accept that, except that I’ve still got to talk to Cece. She has to hear me say it. I don’t think it’s enough that Amanda tells her what I said.”
“Now you’re talking.” She hummed into the phone for a minute. “What does she do—that is, Cecelia—when Amanda’s in class?”
“Mostly, Amanda has a babysitter for her. She won’t leave her alone, if that’s what you mean. Then there’s Skipper. He sleeps on the end of Cecelia’s bed.”
“Skipper?”
“The dog, a little terrier mix. Cute as can be and Cecelia’s best pal. He seemed to like me—before—but for all I know, Cecelia’s probably teaching him to go for my ankles if I dare to show up at their house again.”
“Hmm.”
“Evie, what do I do?”
“Give me a minute, Marc, I’m thinking.” He heard her moving something around.“I suppose you could always write her a letter or maybe a story. The two of you have read stories together. Maybe that will get her attention.” She hummed a bit. “Does she walk the dog?”
“Every day.”
“Does Amanda go with her when she does that?”
“Not always. The last time they went to the dog park, she told me she stayed in the car and worked on an article she’s been writing.”
“Then why don’t you go to the dog park? Maybe if the girl sees you there, she’ll talk to you.”
“But I don’t have a dog.”
“Marcus Dunbar, you graduated summa cum laude from the University of Illinois!Use that brain of yours. If you need a dog to visit the dog park, borrow one.”
He blinked. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you are a man—with a one-track mind.”
Later that week, Marcus walked through the woods to the dog park. Ten animals were occupying the fenced area, their owners scattered along the edges, in clusters of two or three, or singly. Cecelia and Skipper were not among them.
After a half-hour in the sun, Marcus rose and walked past the dog park again. He saw Skipper on the far edge of the enclosure making friends with a large black dog. Cecelia was talking to a young boy standing next to a man who had to be his father. When the dogs moved away from their owners, Marcus spotted Janet sitting on a bench near the water fountains. Skipper saw him and approached, wagging his stump of a tail.
“Hi, Skipper,” he called out, hoping Cecelia would approach him.
Instead, she called the dog, who ran back to her. Cecelia followed Skipper as he raced to the other side of the enclosure.
Marcus rose and moved to another bench closer to the trees, out of the sun. Another man joined him.
“Who do you belong to?” Marcus asked.
“That little Scottie over there by the terrier. My daughter loves that dog. Usually my wife brings them here. I had some free time this afternoon and told her I would do it.”
The Scottie raced over to the man on the bench.
“I guess your dog is telling you he wants to go home.”
“That could be. Annie!”
A girl about six years old trotted after her dog. Her dark braids hung halfway down her back, ribbons trailing at their ends. Behind her walked Cecelia.
When Cecelia saw Marcus, her face darkened into a scowl and she turned away. “Annie, I’ll see you later,” she called over her shoulder. “Skipper! It’s time to go home.”
Three days later, Marcus returned to the dog park. He sat on a bench well away from the trees and watched as the dogs and their owners moved around the enclosure. Their actions reminded him of race horses running free around an oval. Cecelia was there with Skipper. A large doberman was leading several of the dogs in a race from the far end of the park to the upper corner.The sun warmed Marcus’ back and, after several minutes, he closed his eyes.