Part 6
Tom shouldered the door open and went straight to the stove. The room smelled of cooled iron and yesterday’s ashes. He lowered the pup onto the blanket before tending the coals, and the youngster turned twice, slowly, before lying down where the warmth would reach him.
The dry wood caught. Tom stood watching it a moment longer than necessary, unable to decide which wet thing to take off first. He set the gun in its place, put the pack by the door, and worked himself out of the torn coat. His fingers left damp marks on the lining. Under the wool, the pup’s sides moved in a regular rhythm.
The boxes stood in the middle of the floor. His books were in the nearest one, beneath the gun-cleaning kit. He opened it with his pocketknife and carried the books back to their shelf a few at a time. He had to rest his hand on the table between trips. When he reached for the binoculars, he remembered leaving them there during the night and hung them on their old nail.
Ellen’s shawl was still on top of the last box. The strip of tape he’d been holding when the scratching began had folded back onto itself. He cut it away, lifted out the shawl, and draped it over her chair with the end almost touching the floor.
He took Daniel’s photograph from its wooden case. There was a fingerprint on the glass; he rubbed it off with his sleeve and set the picture where he could see it from the stove. Then he pushed the empty carton aside with his foot. The pup raised his head at the sound and put it down again.
The van was meant to call before leaving town. Tom found the caseworker’s number on the sheet beside his phone and left a message asking her to cancel the ride. He thanked her and said he’d speak to her later about the arrangements. He didn’t offer an explanation to the recording. He wanted to give it to Daniel himself.
Only after that did he lie down. He left his dry socks on and pulled a blanket over his legs, meaning to rest until the kettle cooled. When he opened his eyes again, sunlight lay across the floor and the clock had moved well into the same morning. For a few seconds he couldn’t understand why his shoulders hurt so badly. Then he heard a small scrape beside the stove.
The youngster was sitting up. Tom eased himself off the bed and warmed another little portion of meat with water. He set it down before filling his own cup. The pup ate more steadily now, though he kept one sore foot drawn back whenever he could. There would be no long walk for either of them today.
Tom put fresh water within reach and unfolded a dry section of blanket. He would have to talk to the wildlife office, find out what proper care would require. A promise made in the dark hadn’t taught him everything he needed to know. But the phone was there, and for once the calls he needed to make didn’t feel like evidence that he had failed.
After breakfast he put the remaining things away and swept around the stove. The pup watched the broom, then reached after the bristles with one paw. Tom moved it gently across a clean patch of floor, and the youngster made a small, lopsided pounce. He sat down immediately afterward, surprised or tired; Tom couldn’t tell which. The laugh that came out of him startled them both.
He propped the broom beside the table and picked up the phone. Daniel’s number was still in the favorites, where Ellen had put it years ago. His thumb hovered above it. There had always been a reason to wait until a better time, and he knew he could find another one if he stood there long enough.
He made the call.
Street noise answered first, then Daniel’s voice. “Dad? Did the driver get there? I was going to call you.”
“I told them not to come.”
A car horn sounded at the other end. Daniel said something away from the phone, and the background grew quieter. “What happened? Are you all right?”
Tom looked at the coat with its torn lining, hanging beside the door. “I’m tired. I’ve had a long night. But I’m staying here.”
“You said you couldn’t manage it anymore.” Daniel paused. “We went through all this last week.”
“I know what I said.”
The familiar silence opened between them. Tom would usually fill it with an assurance about his health and ask about work. Instead he watched the pup nose beneath the edge of the blanket and made himself leave the line open.
“Dad, I don’t want you stuck up there alone.”
“There’s somebody here now. A young animal. He needs looking after.”
“What animal?”
“It’ll take a while to tell you.” Tom sat down. The pup lifted his head toward the sound of his voice. “I’d like you to come home, Dan. I’d like to show you.”
He heard his son’s breath over the phone. Then Daniel asked, “You’re asking me to visit?”
“Yes.” Tom gripped the edge of the table. “If you can.”
Daniel was quiet long enough for Tom to fear he’d asked at the wrong time. When he spoke again, the hurry had gone out of his voice. He had vacation days coming, he said. He’d been thinking about going overseas. Maybe he ought to come to Montana instead; it had been a long time since he’d seen snow that hadn’t already turned gray beside a curb.
“We’ll talk about getting you some help while I’m there,” he added.
Tom nearly said he didn’t need any. He looked down at his swollen knuckles and let the answer change. “We can do that.”
They spoke for a few more minutes. When the call ended, Tom kept the phone in his hand until the screen went dark. The pup came to his chair and rested his front feet against Tom’s knee. He steadied him, careful of the sore paws.
“You’ll have somebody else to bother soon.”
The youngster turned at the broom beside the table. Tom set the phone down and reached for the handle. This time, when the bristles moved across the floor, the pup followed them.