On her way to work, Annie drove Sam and Jimmy to the launching site where Sam had parked his car. He’d decided to leave the canoe at Annie’s house and pick it up at some later date.

She got out and walked with them to Sam’s car. “Come back soon,” she said. “Maggie’s about ready to have her pups. They’re so cute when they’re little.”

“Could I have one?” Jimmy asked.

“No. ‘fraid not. I have to sell them because I need the money and they’re hard to raise. You need a big yard and it’s best if you have a place for them to swim.”

“I’ll bring you out again after they’re born,” Sam said, “and you can play with them.”

“Okaaay.” He drew out the word indicating he’d settle for that, but what he really wanted was a puppy.

Sam unlocked the car and tossed his pack into the back seat. “I’ve had a good time, Annie. Better than I’ve had in a long time.”

“Same here, Sam.”

He looked at her seriously. “Don’t think too much about that photographer. Even if your dog did talk to you, she could have been wrong.”

“You don’t believe they talk to us, do you?”

“I’d like to, but no, I don’t. I think we put our thoughts into their mouths. We hear what we want to hear.”

“Sam,” she laughed, “you just haven’t spent enough time around Newfoundlands. You have to come back. You’ll see.”

“I’ll do that.”

Annie leaned down and hugged Jimmy, then kissed his cheek. “You make him bring you back, okay?”

“I will, Annie.”

Then she turned to Sam and hugged him. “I mean it. Come back.” He returned her hug and was surprised when she kissed him on the cheek.

“I’ll be back. That’s the reason I left my canoe.”

“Drive carefully,” she said. “I’ll call you when the puppies arrive.”


They took their time driving home, stopping at the Basketball Hall of Fame in Springfield so Jimmy could see how high Larry Bird jumped, and at a Burger King for lunch. Seeing Jimmy playing and laughing for two whole days had restored Sam’s hope for the boy. And Sam hadn’t had such a bad time himself.

It was twelve-thirty when they rounded the corner to Sam’s street. The sight of Russ’s red pickup and Teresa’s Honda sitting in the driveway brought a crashing end to Sam’s happiness. He parked on the street and was hurrying toward the house when Russ backed out of the screen door holding the monitor. Passing his dad midpoint to the pickup, he said, “Hi, have a nice trip?” and gently set the computer in the truck’s back seat. Sam and Jimmy watched dumbstruck as Russ headed back to the house. “Hey there, Jimmy,” he said and disappeared through the door. As they were about to enter, Russ came out again lugging the hard drive.

Inside, Teresa was sorting out cables and discs at the dining room table. “Where have you been?” were her first words. “I’ve been worried sick.” She rushed to her son and pulled him into her arms. “You promised, Sam, that you’d have him back home yesterday and all I got was some flip message that you were spending the night God knows where. And you didn’t even leave a phone number so I could call.”

You’re right about that, Sam thought. He stood silently like a pilgrim in a pillory punished for his sins. When she paused to breath, he jumped in. “Hi Teresa, what’s going on?”

The question transformed Teresa from an irate mother to a coy school girl. “I’m going back to Russell,” she smirked. “We’ve made up.” At that moment, Russ came into the room. “The printer’s ready to go,” she said to her husband, “and then those books.” Russ scooped up the printer and left.

“You two must have had quite a picnic yesterday,” Sam said.

“We did. He told me how sorry he was and that he was turning over a new leaf.”

“What about the new truck. How’re you going to pay for that?”

“I see now that he really needs it. I’m sorry as I can be that he’s quitting teaching, but carpentry is what he really loves. He explained that the men he works with all drive nice looking trucks and if he’s going to take carpentry seriously he needs to have the right equipment.”

“But . .”

“And he will be earning a lot more than he could teaching,” she said, anticipating Sam’s unfinished question.

The phone rang and Sam went into his study to answer it. It was Kathleen calling from work.

“I wanted to get you as soon as you got home,” his daughter said. “Teresa packed up all her things this morning and took them to your house. She said Russ was coming by on his lunch hour to pick up the stuff.”

“He’s here now, loading the truck.”

“Whatever you do, Dad, don’t try to talk her out of going back to Russ.”

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s driving us up the wall. Naomi told me yesterday that either Teresa leaves or she leaves. She’s not kidding.”

“I thought they were kindred spirits,” Sam said.

“They were at first, but Teresa has a way of turning kindred spirits into possessions. And there’s this vacuuming and scrubbing all the time as if we don’t know how to take care of a house. We can’t sit in the living room and watch TV in the evening because Jimmy’s there with some goddam kid show. I don’t care if Russ beats the shit out of her, we’ve had it.”

“Don’t worry,” Sam said in a calming voice, “I’m not going to try to talk her out of it. The sooner she leaves here, the better. She's out there right now finishing up.”

“Thank God!”


After Teresa left, Sam had a couple of days of absolute peace. Cynthia and Claude were busy being doctors, Kathleen and Naomi were keeping to themselves and Teresa was back with Russ. Sam got the lawn mowed, and took the clippings to the town’s recycling center. One morning he had breakfast with Art at Flynnie's on the Beach, and told him about his trip to Annie’s. Art didn’t bring up the subject of Sarah and Sam didn’t mention the photographer that Annie Haas’s dogs had discovered.

The second evening he sat at his computer and tried to write. Nothing jelled until he wrote, What if a 70 year old man had a dream to sell his Marblehead home of 30 years and move to Western Mass to buy a piece of land and build a house? He looked at the screen and, for the first time in months, raised his eyebrows approvingly. Then he wrote, What if he meets a beautiful 30 year old woman who’s raising Newfies and they hit it off? He studied the screen for a few seconds, then turned up his nose. Fat chance of that, he thought. Back to the key board. What if the woman’s 55 and they’re just good friends? That’s better, he decided, but there’s got to be more to the story. How about this, Man falls in love with Newfies? He laughed at the thought. Then he wrote, Man 70 discovers he’s not too old to start living. Hmm. Maybe. But what reader would believe a 70 year old man would sell his home and start over where he doesn’t know a soul?

The phone rang. He picked it up.

“Sam, you’ve got to come over here right now.” It was Teresa’s voice. He held the phone away from his ear and stared at it. Should he rip it out of the wall, or talk to his daughter-in-law?

“Hello Teresa. Why have I got to come over right now?”

“It’s Russ. He’s done it again. I may need you to help me move back to Kathleen’s.”

Not on a bet, he thought. “Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll be right over, but you’d better forget moving back to Kathleen’s.”

In the car he gunned the engine so hard the tires squealed. “Why the hell can’t they manage their own lives?” he snarled at the windshield. “They do this on purpose — get in trouble, have fights, go broke, so I’ll have to bail them out. Or feel guilty if I don’t.” His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “And Kathleen’s not much better, falling in love and then fighting with her lover. I wish she’d settle down. All I do is run from one to the other patching up lives. At least Cynthia and Claude live their own lives. But I wish they’d stop bugging me about how I live mine.”

Russ and Teresa lived in a small, rented two story townhouse attached to three other townhouses. The meager yards were common, not separated by fences. The lawns had bare patches where children had dug holes. A tricycle, two water guns, a beach ball, a doll and a broken hockey stick were strewn about.

Sam knocked on Russ’s door, then let himself in. He was met by a lanky puppy, wagging her tail excitedly and leaking piss with each wiggle of her behind.

Jimmy ran from the living room. ‘Patsy! Come here.” He grabbed the puppy’s collar and pulled her back into the living room where the floor was covered with newspapers. With the dog in tow he sat on the sofa beside his father.

Teresa, unwilling even to look at her husband, stared icicles at Sam. “This . .” she said flinging one arm in the dog’s direction, “this is Russell’s idea of how to be a responsible parent.”

“Ohh God!” Russ said, throwing himself against the back of the sofa. “The boy comes home with his grandfather and all he can talk about is this big dog who’s gonna have puppies, but the woman won’t give him one.”

“And she’s right, too,” Teresa interrupted.

“And I say every boy oughta have a puppy. I had Harvey, didn’t I Dad?” Harvey’d been a lab-retriever mix which they’d gotten from the Animal Rescue League. He was six when a car ran over him. Russ, thirteen at the time, cried for two days. So did the rest of the family. The stone marking Harvey’s grave was still in Sam’s backyard, swept clean after each mowing of the lawn.

“So, on your own accord, without consulting me,” she said looking down the length of her nose, “you bought a Siberian Husky.” The dog was beautiful with fine dark brown markings on its face and brown patches against the white fur on its back. Her feet were huge for her body and her legs long. Sam could visualize her in ten months — two feet high and 110 pounds.

“Yeah. So what? Nothing’s too good for my son.”

Jimmy, about to cry, slipped down from the sofa onto the floor beside the dog and hugged her.

“You see, Sam, why I asked you to come over? Will you please talk some sense into him? How can we keep a dog in this place? Who’s going to take care of him during the day? There’s no place for him to run outside. And he’s going to be as big as a police dog. I’ve seen some of them around town.”

Sam slumped in his chair, but said nothing.

“And if that’s not enough,” Teresa continued, “the dog cost eight hundred dollars.”

“Eight hundred dollars?” Sam exclaimed. “For a dog?”

“Sure,” Russ said nonchalantly. “You want a good dog, you gotta pay for it. Anyway, it’s all right. I put it on a credit card.”

“How could you do that?” Teresa frowned. “We’re already at our ten thousand dollar limit.”

“I got a new one in the mail,” he laughed. “I’m a good credit risk.”

And the fight started again, Teresa yelling that they were a month behind in the rent and didn’t have enough money for groceries, and Russ shouting that all she does is complain. As accusations flew between them, Sam looked at Jimmy who had buried his face in the dogs neck.

“The dog’s going back to the pet store,” Teresa demanded, “and you’re going to get your money back.”

“You’d do this to Jimmy?” Russ said. “Can’t you see how much he loves the dog?”

Teresa jumped up and aimed her finger at her husband. “You goddammed son-of-a-bitch. Putting the blame on me. That’s it. I’m finished.” She marched up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door.

Russ went to the base of the stairs and shouted after her, “Go on then, get outta here. And this time, don’t come back.”

“Sit down, Russ,” Sam commanded. His son stared at him for a moment, then reluctantly returned to the sofa. “You and I and Jimmy are going to take the dog back to the pet store right now before it closes, and get your money back.”

“I can’t,” he said. “You can only get eighty percent back if you return a dog.”

“Fine. We’ll get that. Then you’re going to cut up that credit card.” He looked at his son and shook his head. “Russ, you’re thirty-five years old and still acting like a kid. Two years ago I paid off all your debts so you and Teresa could have a fresh start. Now she says you owe ten thousand dollars on your credit card and you just bought a new truck. What did it cost, twenty-five thousand?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Well, you’re stuck with it. I’m not giving you another cent.”

“Keep your money,” Russ snapped. “I don’t want it anyway.”

Ignoring him, Sam turned to Jimmy who had slide around the corner of the sofa and was clutching Patsy to him. “I’m sorry you can’t keep the dog. I know you’d take good care of her, but when you start back to school, she’d be stuck in the house all day long. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Upstairs Sam could hear crying as Teresa slammed closet doors and drawers. He didn’t know what she was planning, but he was determined she wasn’t coming to either his or Kathleen’s houses. He would drive Russ to the pet store, because he knew his son wouldn't go on his own. He owed that much to the poor dog.

Teresa, bumping a suitcase down the stairs, stopped half way to holler at Jimmy. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

“Where’re you going?” Sam asked fretfully.

“Where can I go? You don’t want me and Jimmy at your house, and Kathleen practically kicked us out. But don’t worry about us. We’ll manage. Jimmy, get over here.” The boy, scared and crying, got up, leaned over and kissed the dog’s head, then went to his mother. Every cell in Sam’s body wanted to reach out to the boy, catch his hand and take him and his new puppy home with him, but he resisted. The door banged shut and they were gone.

Sam found the dog’s leash, hooked it to her collar and led her to the door. “Come on Russ.” His son pulled himself up from the sofa and followed his father. “Got that credit card?” Sam asked. Russ nodded. “Come on pooch, you’re going back to the store.”

Chapter Ten