Fresh Tracks (12 page)

against her chest.

"I never thought the next time I spooned in bed, it would be with a dog," she said with amusement, burying her nose in the now-clean and soft fur at the top of his head.

She'd waited until late afternoon yesterday to be sure his system was sufficiently warm

and healthy before subjecting him to the much-needed bath. He surprised her by not

struggling or creating problems.

He just stood in the water, ears back flat against his head to express his disapproval, and

let her shampoo his wiry hair. Now, he smelled like peaches.

Laura didn't know a lot about dogs and there was a large part of her that was afraid to get

too attached to this one. It was the reason she hadn't given him any sort of name yet

other than "little guy" or "hey, buddy." He had to belong to somebody. Wouldn't his owner be missing him by now? At the same time, she hoped nobody ever came looking. She'd never

felt such unconditional love before and she was certain it was something she could get used

to pretty damn quickly. The thought of him inhabiting her half of the duplex with her was

not unpleasant.

"Be careful with the terriers," Jo had warned her, handing her one of the extra leashes and collars she'd found in the basement. "They're great dogs, but they tend to run." At Laura's questioning expression, Jo had elaborated. "They're bred to hunt

vermin...squirrels, chipmunks, moles, rabbits. They use their noses and their ears and when

they put that nose to the ground, they don't pay much attention to anything else. My uncle

raised Westies. They were damn adorable and loving, but they couldn't be trusted off the

leash. They'd be gone like little white shots."

Laura inhaled his cleanliness one last time before speaking to her newfound friend. "We

should probably get up, huh, buddy? Do you have to pee? I do."

"So.. .why kindergarten?"

Molly took the time to honestly think about the question. She and Darby had been strolling

for nearly an hour, arm in arm, walking over their own tracks, and there had yet to be a lull in the conversation. Molly was surprised to admit that she was thoroughly enjoying herself

and couldn't remember the last time she felt so relaxed.

"It's the perfect age for molding," she said matter-of-factly. "For the most part, my students are too young to have been jaded by the world yet. If they've got decent parents,

then the kids are usually still respectful of authority and of each other. They don't

discriminate against each other because of race or money or gender. I get them before the

real world does and I hope in the short span of time they're with me, I can teach them

something to help them grow into good people."

Darby looked at her in amazement. "Wow."

"What?"

"That's..." Darby shrugged and shook her head, at a loss. "I'm just so impressed."

"By what?"

Darby bumped Molly playfully with her shoulder. "By you, dorkball. That was the perfect

explanation. That's what every education student should say when asked why they want to

be a teacher. You know? You didn't say 'so I can have summers off,' or something similarly

superficial. You said something meaningful. I admire that. I admire you."

Molly blushed, feeling inexplicably proud at the words Darby bestowed upon her. "Well, you couldn't pay me enough to teach fourth or fifth grade. That's when brats happen."

"Do you want to have kids of your own?"

Molly shook her head. "I don't think so. It's crossed my mind, especially as I get older and the clock starts to tick a bit louder. But teaching is exhausting and I don't think I'd have

the energy to deal with kids all day and then come home to my own. Maybe I'm simply not

cut out for motherhood."

"I don't believe that. I think you'd be a great mother."

Molly squeezed Darby's arm. "Thanks. What about you? Do you want kids?"

Darby released a deep breath, watching the vapor dissipate in the chilly morning air. "I think I might. I'm not sure yet." She glanced at Molly with a twinkle in her eyes. "I do know that I don't want to do the carrying. No way do I want to be pregnant."

Molly laughed. "Really? If I wanted kids, I think I would do the carrying."

"Seriously? Gaining all that weight, having to pee all the time, not being able to sleep, constant backaches, weird midnight cravings? Why would you want to suffer through all of

that?"

Molly shrugged. "Nine months goes by fast. I just think it would be amazing to have a little life growing inside me, that's all."

"Pregnant women are beautiful, I'll give you that."

When Molly looked up, the house was in view and she had a hard time believing they'd just

kept walking. Three shrill barks broke the air as they cleared the woods into the open yard.

She waved at Laura, who stood out in front of the house with the little terrier on a leash.

He

yipped again, his tail moving down each time, as if he were built like a water pump and

pushing his tail toward the ground caused the bark to come out his mouth.

"Morning," Laura said with a smile as they approached. She rubbed her hands over her upper arms, wishing she'd been smart enough to grab a jacket on the way out the door. The

long-sleeve T-shirt wasn't doing much to keep her warm. "Out for an early walk?"

"Nothing wakes you up like twenty-degree weather," Darby responded. Glancing at the dog, she asked, "Taking his sweet time, is he?"

"Apparently, the way it works is that he has to sniff every snowflake first. Who knew? I assume we'll get around to peeing in an hour or two."

Molly squatted near the dog and received a heartfelt lick for her efforts, the terrier's tail wagging happily back and forth. Giggling, she patted his head, then took off her own coat

and set it over Laura's shoulders. "You're going to catch pneumonia standing out here like that."

Everybody looked up as Molly and Darby entered the cabin. The atmosphere buzzed with

the goings-on of morning, the complete opposite of the hushed quiet when they'd left just

an hour earlier. A fresh pot of coffee was brewing on the counter and Amy stood at the

stove flipping pancakes. The fire was crackling with warmth.

Sophie, clad in plaid flannel pants and a red sweatshirt, sat on the floor in front of the

television shooting at zombies before they had a chance to eat her, leaning to her left and

then her right as she pushed / the fire button as fast as she could. Muttered swear words

could be heard every so often from her end of the room. Grinning, Darby ripped off her

coat and boots so she could scoot over next to her opponent. In doing so, she missed the

expression Kristin tossed her way from the dining-room table, a combination of suspicion,

hurt, and anger. Molly, however, caught it.

Pasting a smile on her face, she shed her own boots and joined Jo and Kristin at the dining

room table. Kristin fiddled with her coffee mug, studying its contents.

"How was the walk?" Jo asked.

"Brisk. Invigorating. It's so gorgeous here."

Amy leaned over the table and set down a plate with a large stack of pancakes on it.

"That's why we love it." Turning her head to be heard ,

by those in the living room, she announced, "Breakfast is served. Come and get it."

"See any deer?" Jo asked.

"No, but we saw several birds and a rabbit. Lots of deer tracks, though."

Darby appeared and began tossing pancakes onto a plate. "Aunt Amy, your salt licks are

getting low."

Amy nodded from her post at the stove. "I think I might make a quick trip into town today.

I'll pick up a couple more while I'm there."

"Can I go with you?" Molly asked.

'"A quick trip into town?' What is this, Little House on the Prairie?" Sophie asked from where she stil sat on the floor, a teasing tone in her voice. "Can I tag along? Are we taking the wagon and horses?"

"I think we could probably squeeze you in," Amy said, teasing back by infusing her voice with a slightly Southern accent. "I hear the general store has this newfangled thing called

'sliced bread.'"

Sophie laughed and tried the same accent. "But...should I be worried about how all the

white folks will look upon a single black woman? Especially one as devastatingly attractive

as myself?"

"It's a chance we'll have to take," Amy responded.

"Of course," Sophie continued, "in this day and age, I should probably be more worried about being a lesbian. I wonder if our illustrious president would be happier if I just wore a sign that says 'Second-Class Citizen' and be done with it."

Snorts of agreement traveled the room.

"Don't you worry your pretty little heads about going into town," Darby said, jumping in.

"I'll protect you."

"Oh, no, you won't," Jo countered. "You're staying here with me. We've got a couple things that need to be done outside and I could use your help."

Anyone who bothered to look in from the outside at that moment would most likely have

laughed at the polar opposite expressions on the faces of Darby and Kristin. Darby looked

crushed, like a small child who was just told Christmas had been cancelled and Santa wasn't

coming. Kristin was smugly satisfied, like she'd just been informed that all her wishes

would come true, but she couldn't tell anybody. Those

were the expressions Laura saw when she came through the front door with the terrier,

and she did laugh.

"Okay, what did I miss?" she asked, unclipping the terrier's leash. He promptly wandered over near the television and sat down next to Sophie, who pretended not to notice him.

"We were just planning the day," Jo informed her. "Amy, Molly, and Sophie are taking a trip into town. Want to go?"

Laura pondered for a second, casting a glance in Sophie's direction, thankfully only seeing

the back of her head. "I think I'll stay here. I'm really enjoying my book. Plus, I should probably make some phone calls about him." She gestured with her eyes toward the

terrier, who set his chin gently on Sophie's thigh.

"Okay, okay," Sophie muttered, massaging the dog's head. "Fine. I'll pet you. I'm about to get kil ed anyway. I think you jinxed me."

Laura smiled in spite of herself and headed to the table. Sophie wandered in a few minutes

later, the dog following on her heels.

"Game over?" Darby asked smugly.

Amy watched with smiling eyes as six of the loves of her life ate, chatted, and joked.

Despite her loyalty to Molly, her heart went out to Kristin as she noticed Molly offering

very little of herself to her partner but laughing and teasing with Darby. She glanced at

Sophie and Laura, who stood next to one another, not engaging each other in any sort of

conversation at all. Their shoulders were actually touching, and it struck her immediately

what a stunning couple they made, blonde and brunette, blue eyes and brown, pale skin and

dark. She took it all in for several moments before standing behind Jo, who sat at the head

of the table.

Laying a hand on her wife's shoulder, Amy held up her juice glass and said, "I'd like to offer a toast." When the table quieted and everyone had a mug or glass in hand, she

continued. "To friends, without which we'd all be nowhere and lonely."

Glasses were clinked together. Sophie peered at her own. "Hey, shouldn't this be a

mimosa? The holidays aren't officially over yet, are they?"

Jo and Amy grinned at each other, and Amy said, "I think we can spare one of the New

Year's Eve bottles of champagne for this morning, don't you?"

SOPHIE

T

he ride "into town" wasn't nearly as long or desolate as it had sounded. In about twenty minutes, Sophie pulled her Jeep into the small town of Westover. "Tiny village" was a more accurate description, as it basically consisted of one street that ran down the middle of

town, past the post office, the hardware store, the bank, the gas station, and the grocery

store.

"Wow," Molly said from the backseat. "What a booming metropolis."

Amy chuckled. "It works for us when we forget to bring something from home. The people

are nice and everything's cheap." She opened the passenger side door and slid to the

ground, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "Coming?"

Sophie and Molly followed her into Hindman's, taking in the three lanes of cash registers

and the total of nine aisles of groceries. A rotund man in a green apron waved in Amy's

direction.

"Morning, Ms. Forrester."

"Hi there, Fred. How's life treating you?" Amy responded, a friendly sparkle in her blue eyes as she picked a blue plastic handbasket from the stack near the door.

"Can't complain."

"That's good to hear. Tell Connie I said hello."

"Will do."

Sophie and Molly exchanged glances. "My God, we are in Walnut Grove," Sophie whispered, causing Molly to clamp a hand over her own mouth to keep her laughter from bursting

forth.

"Come on, you two," Amy said with a good-natured rolling of her eyes at the teasing of her friends.

Sophie followed Molly as they headed toward the produce, taking in her surroundings and

especially the women in the area—the young blonde behind register three was particularly

attractive, her friendly smile inviting and her long neck decidedly lickable. It was

something Sophie had recently noticed about herself: she seemed to be constantly

checking out the women. Not leering. She was too polite to be that obvious. But she looked.

More than that, she liked to look. And more than that, she fantasized. A lot.

Sometimes, she surprised herself with the quickness of her imagination. She could look at a

woman across a bookstore, for example, and no sooner did she register the fact that said