My phone picked that moment to buzz. Loudly.

  Confusion wrinkled his brow. His gaze shifted to my purse, and his lips twitched in amusement.

  My cheeks burned again. I slowly opened my purse. “What do you know? It was there all along.” I tried to laugh lightly.

  We faced each other down the dim, narrow hallway.

  “That’s fortunate.” He closed the distance between us slowly and deliberately. “May I give you my number?”

  The narrow hallway suddenly felt cozy. The low light reminded me of the back of the auditorium during those long rehearsals. I cleared my throat. “Yes. I’d like that.” I retrieved the phone and punched in his number, then slipped the phone back in my purse. “I should go.”

  “Can I walk you to your car?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

  “The least I can do is see you out.” He gestured for me to precede him down the hallway.

  We both meant to look away, I think—but we looked up at the same time and our eyes met as I squeezed past. As I walked ahead of him down the hall, I quietly exhaled the breath I’d been holding.

  He followed me to the door. “Thank you for coming. I hope we can see each other again soon.”

  “Me too. It was good to see you.” I hesitated, then settled on giving him a friendly goodbye hug.

  By mutual agreement, it may have lasted one or two seconds longer than strictly necessary.

  My emotions swirled like the humid night air by the time I reached my car. I slid into the driver’s seat. My fingers flew over the phone as I composed a text to Rose. Rose, I need your help with a dog. I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t want to scare her away but I also don’t want to have my life wrecked by random tornadoes wherever I go.

  I rested my head on the backrest and closed my eyes, probably not the wisest move while sitting in a dark parking lot, but I didn’t care.

  The phone buzzed. Would this be that new white dog?

  The one and only, I wrote.

  I’m in, she replied.

  12

  I drove to Rose’s cabin the next morning, early enough that the sky retained its crystal clarity before the afternoon haze took over. Rose lived about fifteen minutes outside Sparkle Beach city limits, near Black Bear Ridge—a sprawling state forest of tall sand pines and dense palmetto-filled underbrush. The unmarked turnoff led to a dirt road that wound through stands of skinny oak trees.

  I took the steps to the front door of the cabin, knocked, and stood waiting under the deep shade of the slanted roof. The knock set a dog barking, the noise echoing from within the house.

  The door opened. Rose stood in the entrance wearing a black tank top emblazoned with a moon phase graphic, and black capri-length yoga pants with white letters running down the side seams. It took a second glance to realize they were Ouija board letters. “Come in!” she said.

  I wiped my feet on the mat to knock off sand and stepped inside. A doggy scent predominated, cut by the smoky aroma of a recently blown-out candle.

  Rose gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat. I’ll get us some drinks.”

  I sat.

  A large dog—something like a pit bull, with a Kodiak bear in its ancestry—trotted self-importantly around the room, then flopped by the empty fireplace and laid its large head on its paws.

  I looked around for a caramel-colored Chihuahua. “Where’s Peanut?”

  “Back home,” Rose called from the kitchen.

  “What’s this guy’s name?”

  “Who?”

  “The dog built like a mountain. Dog Mountain.” I eyed the massive animal, who snorted and rolled onto his flank.

  Rose reappeared with chilled cans of seltzer. She handed one to me, then took a seat by the cold fireplace, next to the dog. “This is Braveheart. He’s getting a little training before he goes up for adoption.”

  “He’s a foster?”

  Rose nodded, then cracked open her can and took a long drink. “So where’s your dog?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You don’t know?”

  “I think I insulted her.” I watched the condensation drip from my can of seltzer. “She found me in the art gallery last night—”

  “How did that go? You never said.”

  “I was so flustered I never got around to it. The dog showed up in the middle of the gallery, and the wind started blowing, like before, so I tried to tell her to stop—but she ran away.”

  “And Raphael?”

  “He caught me running after Zephyr. I don’t know what he thought, but he must have overlooked my apparent nuttiness, because he gave me his number. He wants to go to dinner sometime.”

  “Was he like what you remembered from high school?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s like I know him, but he’s also a stranger.”

  “Kind of like this magic dog of yours.” Rose rubbed Braveheart’s back. “Dogs aren’t that different from people, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dogs make choices based on what they want, and what they’re afraid of. Figure out what they want, or what they’re afraid of, and you’ll understand why they do what they do. Then you’ll know how to get them to do what you want.”

  “That’s… unnerving, in a way.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be negative or controlling. Not if you think of it as aligning yourself with their needs. For example, take Braveheart.”

  The dog’s paw twitched as Rose scratched his basketball-sized head.

  “Braveheart came from a home where the owner decided to buy a new dog. A small dog.” Her lips pursed in judgment. “He called me in a panic because Braveheart nearly took a chunk out of the new dog, despite never having shown aggression before.”

  I groped for a nearby pillow and placed it over my lap like a shield.

  “I had to explain to him that all dogs nip, under the right—or wrong—circumstances. And that dogs can automatically view smaller animals as prey, unless they’re raised together. He’d set up a power imbalance by buying a new dog. Picture this: the small dog nips at Braveheart. No harm done, right?”

  I nodded slowly.

  “But if Braveheart did the same thing, the smaller dog wouldn’t stand a chance. Not because the behavior is abnormal, but because the owner foolishly created a no-win situation.”

  “How do you fix it?”

  “You can’t. You look at the situation through Braveheart’s point of view. Braveheart’s a normal dog who wants to do normal dog things. There’s no correcting that.”

  “The owner got rid of him?”

  “It was the safest choice, to protect the smaller dog. Braveheart’s a good boy—but he needs to be in a home without smaller animals running around.”

  “Wow.” I removed the pillow, feeling sheepish.

  “Or take Peanut. Peanut was afraid of other dogs. And people. So much so that she’d get nervous and start barking like crazy if she got close to anyone. I had to teach her how to not be afraid.”

  My ears pricked up. “How’d you do that?”

  “Remember when I said dogs are like people? At the end of the day, they just want to be loved. Every time Peanut encountered a dog and didn’t freak out, I praised her and gave her plenty of affection.”

  “I’ll have to remember that the next time I’m in a relationship and I want to encourage a certain behavior. Like doing the dishes.”

  Rose chuckled. “Dogs and people, people and dogs. The difference is like this.” She held her thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. “But dogs are obviously superior.”

  “Obviously. I should put myself in Zephyr’s paws, then?”

  “Exactly. What does she want? What is she afraid of?”

  I thought about it. “She seems… to want to show up for me.”

  “When?”

  Good question. I ticked the answers off, one by one, on my fingers. “When I got fired. When I broke up with Dan. When I went downtown. When I went to the new house. When I got interviewed—no, wait, that was the crow, not Zephyr. When I went to the art gallery to see Raphael.”

  “Sounds like times when you were nervous. Or excited.”

  “Or both.”

  We drank from our cans.

  Braveheart snored gently.

  “Maybe she wants to protect you,” said Rose. “And maybe she’s afraid of failure.”

  “How do I help her?”

  “She has to learn to trust you. You have to show her affection and love until her fear subsides.”

  “I can do that—if I could get her to show up on command.”

  “She’ll show up on command a lot better once she learns to trust you.”

  I sighed. “Do you see the problem?”

  Rose considered. “I don’t usually use treats for dog training, but maybe it would help in this case.”

  I laughed. “Treats? For a magical dog? What would that even be?”

  “Does she seem to get pleasure out of anything?”

  Memories of Zephyr flitted through my mind. “She seems… playful?”

  Rose got up. “Let’s work with that. What would a magical, windy dog like to play with?”

  I racked my brain for things to do with moving air. “A fan. A hairdryer. Feathers? A kite?”

  “Pinwheels?”

  We both cracked up.

  “Oh my gosh, Rose. This is so crazy.”

  “Hang on—I’ve got bubbles for when my nieces come to visit.” Rose ran down the hall, her bare feet loud on the raised floor of the cabin. She returned with two clear plastic bottles of bubbles, complete with matching wands in the lids. “Here.” She handed one to me and joined me on the couch.

  “Now what?” I gestured with the bottle. “I blow bubbles and say ‘Here, Zephyr’?”

  “Got any better ideas?”

  I shot her a look and unscrewed the cap. I withdrew the wand with care to avoid spilling bubble liquid on the couch. My first attempt at blowing bubbles failed—the liquid sputtered sideways and formed no bubbles.

  “Try blowing slow and steady.”

  “If you’re so good at it, you do it.”

  “Fine.” Rose unscrewed the cap on her bottle. She pursed her lips and blew a perfect stream of rainbow-colored bubbles on the first try.

  “Showoff.” I tried again. I produced one large bubble, which popped with a tiny splash. I stood so I could support my breath from my diaphragm, like my high school chorus teacher taught me.

  Finally, a stream of bubbles floated across the living room and popped on the stones of the fireplace.

  “Here, Zephyr. Come out and play, baby.” I blew more bubbles. “Come play, girl.”

  The next set of bubbles zigged and zagged wildly, as if under the influence of a chaotic air current.

  I met Rose’s gaze with a meaningful look.

  She lifted her bubble wand and blew more bubbles in concert with my efforts.

  Braveheart snuffled, stretched, and stood. His tail wagged as if he expected a friend.

  The bubbles shot in all directions as the breeze in the room increased.

  A white and silver blur shot out of the fireplace, bringing a flurry of ash with it.

  “Zephyr!” I didn’t know whether to put the bubbles down or keep on blowing.

  Braveheart blundered around the room, chasing the uncatchable Zephyr.

  Zephyr skidded to a halt in front of me, followed closely by Braveheart, who seemed to have instantly fallen in love.

  I blew another round of bubbles. “Who’s a good girl? Zephyr’s a good girl!”

  Rose spoke up from the couch. “Can Braveheart see your dog?”

  “He definitely can.” I kept making bubbles, to Zephyr’s obvious delight—she nipped at them happily. “I’m going to try something.” I opened my wings and extended them until the tips reached past the ends of the couch.

  “Did you notice that they’re dripping glitter now?”

  I glanced at my wings. Sure enough, tiny silver sparkles lazily floated down from the bottom edges. When I vibrated my wings to create a breeze, sparkles cascaded like salt from a shaker before wafting away.

  The breeze sent the bubbles zipping in all directions. Zephyr barked and ran in a circle, chasing them with glee. After the bubbles popped, she trotted to me and licked my hand.

  I knelt and set down the bubbles. “Here, girl.” I sank my fingers into her thick fur, feeling the subtle tickle of its constant airstream. “Good girl.”

  “See if you can get her to lower the wind,” Rose said.

  “Lower it?” I wasn’t sure how to do that. I focused on stilling my wings, nullifying the current of air rather than encouraging it. I patted Zephyr’s head rhythmically. “Hush, hush,” I said, like she was a baby to be soothed.

  She blinked at me and the light movement of air in the room stopped.

  “Good Zephyr!” I praised her lavishly with words and caresses.

  Rose got off the couch and crept closer. “Now try to get her to raise it again.”

  I retrieved the bottle and stood. “Bubbles!” A steady breath sent a dozen into the air. I vibrated my wings and sent the bubbles flying.

  Zephyr leaped and the wind increased.

  “Yay, Zephyr! Go Zephyr!” I added more bubbles and watched them zing around the room. Then I ceased the movement of my wings and dropped to the floor. “Hush, hush,” I cajoled the dog.

  She instantly sat and the wind died.

  I smoothed my hands over her velvet ears, a warm feeling blossoming in my heart. “I knew we could be a team.”

  13

  The phone rang the next evening while I was desperately trying to find any new job listings within a one hundred mile radius. I bounded up from my chair, accidentally sending my can of soda flying sideways toward the desktop computer.

  The can tipped and spilled. The contents crept across the table.

  “No, no, no, no, no!” If I ran for paper towels, the soda would reach the computer before I made it back. If I touched the liquid after it had reached the computer, I could electrocute myself. “Damn it!” I did the only thing I could think of.

  I whipped off my shirt and dropped it on the encroaching lake of soda, carefully corralling the trickles that tried to escape. “I liked that shirt,” I said—then realized the phone was still ringing.

  “Double damn it!” Shirtless, I grabbed the phone from the coffee table and picked up, silently thanking the gods of technology that video calling had not become the norm. “Hello?”

  “Luella? It’s London. How are you?”

  Half-naked, flustered, and recently fired, but I didn’t say that to my former intern. “Dandy. What’s up?”

  “I talked to my aunt.”

  “And?”

  “It was very interesting.”

  It wasn’t possible to physically reach through the phone and shake her, so I bit my lip and waited for her to continue.

  “How about we meet up and I’ll tell you all about it?”

  She was trying to be helpful, bless her—but she couldn’t help craving a live audience for it. “Fine. How about Shelly’s Place? You know where that is?”

  “Is that the mermaid bar with the old rock music?”

  Old rock music! “Classic rock music, yes. That’s the one.”

  “Nine?”

  “Sure. See you at nine at Shelly’s Place.”

  She hung up without a word.

  “Weird.” Maybe Suntan Queen was about to lay off more people. Maybe Queenie had revealed her secret identity as a lizard woman from Mars.

  Maybe London just wanted to know where I hid the good pens.

  I retrieved a new shirt from my bedroom. I had an idea for blowing off a little steam before the meeting—there was enough time to enjoy the sunset before I had to head over to Shelly’s. “Zephyr! Here, girl.” My head poked through the collar. “Who wants to go to the beach?” My arms came through the sleeves.

  By the time I had the shirt pulled down, I could feel a noticeable breeze. The ceiling fan was off, and the air conditioning wasn’t currently blowing. I spread my arms and felt my wings kick into action, increasing the movement in the air. “Zephyr,” I called, my voice playful and teasing.

  She burst through the bedroom window, her passage rippling the blinds as if the window were open to the evening air.

  “Zephyr!” I knelt and caressed her. “Who’s the bestest magical dog?” I ruffled her furry head. “You are!”

  Zephyr leaped and chased her tail a few times.

  I let my wings relax. “You want to ride in the car? Last one’s a rotten egg!” I grabbed my purse, locked the door, and ran down the stairs, my footsteps light and quick with Zephyr at my heels.

  She beat me to the sidewalk by running through my legs. Literally. Then she jumped through the car window on the passenger side.

  I slid into the driver’s seat and regarded her as she sat in the passenger seat. “Cheater. No fair when you can run through someone.”

  Zephyr cocked her head, and her tongue lolled.

  “Don’t play innocent with me, princess.” I shot her a skeptical look and put the car into motion. It would be one of the last times I would have to travel this route. Soon I’d be fully ensconced in my new digs—as soon as I managed to get a moving truck and haul the rest of my stuff over there. It might have to wait for a lull in job searches, magical creatures, and high school crushes, but I’d get it done.

  I never knew unemployment could be so busy.

  While I mulled these thoughts, I didn’t notice Zephyr getting antsy—until she drew back like a spring and launched herself through the windshield. She blew through the air, ran a loop-de-loop around a green light, and zipped ahead of the stop-and-go traffic keeping me at a crawl.

  “Really? Is that fair?” I threw one hand up in mock annoyance, but a grin broke out on my face. “Goofy dog.”

 

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