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yowled in her sleep, dream-running from that randy mongrel up the road. |
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Joe flicked the switch. The cellar was strangely quiet. No clicking of her nails as she crossed the floor. No red-and-white spaniel smiling up at him. Not even a whimper as the light roused her from sleep. What if she had already delivered and was down there quietly nursing her pups? Anna would be furious if he discovered them without her. She was ritualistic about important events. Also, Sophie was technically Anna's dog, her constant companion before the bypass that sent Joe into retirement. |
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He would have gone back up for her except for the strange hush from below. Perhaps he was still a little charged from that howl, but it was so quiet down there. As if the cellar were holding its breath. |
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Another thing, the air had a damp acrid qualitythe way it did before they had the ditches dug. If there was water on the floor from the rain, he'd give those construction guys hell. Six months ago he had shelled out $1,800 to have four drainage ditches dug out back to stop storm flooding. Because they were at the bottom of a hill, the cellar flooded after a major downpour, filling the place with an awful smell. If there was water on the floor, he would raise his own stink. |
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He clutched his nitros and started down. If Sophie had delivered, he'd tell Anna how he just woke up himself. She'd never know he peeked. |
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Halfway down, Joe Samborsky heard a queer animal sound that sent a shard of ice through his heart. |
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"I'm coming, girl," he said. "It's all right." |
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Joe rounded the bottom stair toward the furnace where Sophie's basket sat with the bright red goosedown pillow, the one Anna bought when Sophie had conceived, the one from the Orvis cataloguea hugh cushiony mitt that could accommodate a Saint Bernard, Joe had said. Anna fussed that if Sophie had a large litter, she'd need a big bed. Joe mumbled something about spoiling the old girl, but he wrote a check for $92.48. Two weeks later Sophie got her bright red corduroy, handstitched genuine goosedown nursing nest. |
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It was the odor that hit him first. Butchershop smells. |
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Sophie lay on her side a few feet from the workbench. Sophie's time had come, all right, but she never made it to her basket. |
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In that instant before realization, it looked as if she had dragged the |
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