The roach continued its attack hiss, this in itself a demonstration of its ignorance. His own screeching served to drown out all other sounds. He would never detect the swoop of wings bearing down upon him.
As he drew closer to Gabe, Blatta was tackled by the entire squadron. A satisfied smile momentarily crossed Flynn’s face. It was good to fight again. Shame there was just the one roach, though. Not much of a challenge.
The tornado of wings fell upon the roach, disabling him immediately. Massive arms stretched out as the entire group spun, each grasping onto Blatta’s armor in the places they knew well to be vulnerable.
And then it began. Bit by bit, piece by piece, they stripped off sections of Blatta’s armor. He screamed in agony as they wrenched it off, taking chunks of his flesh with it. And when they were done, there was nothing left of the creature but his puny, unadorned self. With no armor and no means of flight, they pushed his naked, wormlike body out into the blackness of space, where he would remain until his people found him. Only safely back on his home world would he be able to restore his armor.
Their mission complete, the men of the Order circled a few more times to see that all was clear before heading home. Grace and Gabe were nearing Earth now and out of danger.
Flynn looked back one last time to see the roach floating off the in distance and Gabe nearly out of sight below. He felt a twinge of pity for both scarred souls as he turned to head home with his squad.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The two spheres of light containing the souls of Grace and Gabriel continued to descend to their destination. They reached Earth and entered the womb of a female German Shepherd mix, Fiona. She was one of several animals belonging to Clare and Francis Chiara. None had been purchased. All were rescued.
They had a trio of mixed breed sibling Chihuahuas named Pepper, Mint and Mocha. The couple referred to the three as their Coco-Chis. In fact, the little dogs were unaccustomed to being referred to by their individual names to the point where they would not have responded to them if summoned.
Their human parents would call them as a group for everyday events. “Dinnertime, Coco-Chis. How bout a treat, Coco-Chis? Oh, how we love our little Coco-Chis.”
And in the rare event that one little dog was ever scolded by name, the punishment was benign at best, for none of them knew who their parents were talking about.
Clare was rarely called by her name, either. Since early in their marriage, Francis had referred to his wife as Mama. When they were told early on that Clare was unable to bear children, Francis had embraced his wife and kissed her gently on the cheek. “You will always be Mama to me.”
Clare allowed herself to indulge in a period of mourning for what would never be. But it did not last long. After all, mothers came into the lives of those needing them in a variety of ways, only one of which was biological.
When Francis brought their first child home, there was an instant family bond. He’d spotted the injured dog on the roadside as he was coming home from work. They named him Parker, as he was found on Parker Street along Francis’ commute from the University, where he worked as an English Professor.
Clare was a writer, spending her days at home. She rarely sat at her desk, however. Her laptop was like an electronic appendage, always with her. She carried it from room to room, outside, to the park, everywhere, anywhere. Because she worked from home, the animals in her care received a level of attention equal to that of any hard working stay-at-home mom.
Parker was not alone for long. Over the years, they’d become parents to eighty-seven animals. Each came with its own unique set of circumstances. Some came to them by chance. In other cases, the couple sought them out.
Whenever Clare felt she was ready to take on an additional child, she and Francis would visit their local shelter. Their favorites were not the animals near the front of their pens, those giddy for a visit and eager for a home. Their favorites were the dogs that sat in the corners, their backs to visitors. These were the dogs who’d given up. They were the broken ones.
Once chosen by Clare and Francis, every single one of those lonely dogs was destined for a magnificent transformation. They would be happy again. They would know love again.
Among the beautiful souls that had come into their lives were, to name a few: Charlie, Lance, Suze, Melvin, Turkey, Sheldon, and on and on.
What brave souls these humans were. Not for the commitment of the hard work. Not for the time it took. Not for the rewards, but because for each glorious hello, each happy transformation, there was also a final farewell. Only the bravest human soul is up for eighty-seven heartbreaks in a lifetime.
Some dogs were with them for a decade or more. Some only had days or months. But each was given the best of care for the balance of precious time that remained.
These days, Clare and Francis’ quests to adopt had slowed. They realized that their own aging was beginning to limit the number of animals for which they could provide what they knew was deserved by each.
In their home now was Fiona, the pregnant Shepherd, the Coco-Chis, Ace, the Jack Russell, and Stella, Jean and Cooper, their cats.
Even as they were taking in fewer and fewer animals, the couple would, from time to time, receive a plea for help from someone who knew well where to go when an animal was in need.
In the case of Fiona, she was to be surrendered to animal control by her previous owners, who had neither the foresight nor inclination to have had her spade.
“Mama,” Francis had turned to Clare after receiving the phone call, “shall we do this one more time?”
“Yes, let’s do it one last time.”
And so, Clare and Francis became parents again at the ages of seventy-one and seventy-two respectively. They agreed that one pup would remain with Fiona after weaning. They could not raise another litter, but it would have been cruel to take all her babies from her. One would stay. The others would go to good homes.
They had little time to bond with Fiona before the arrival of her pups. She’d only been with them for two weeks. She was still learning her place in the household.
Clare would speak to her softly and for long stretches of time. The soothing vocalizations helped to relax the anxious mother-to-be. Day by day, Fiona turned to Clare for comfort. By the time Fiona began to nest, Clare had earned Fiona’s confidence.
Clare took Fiona’s temperature on a daily basis. When it fell to ninety-nine degrees, she knew that labor would begin in the next eight to twelve hours.
Clare knew from experience that mother dogs were most comfortable birthing their pups in dark, protected spaces.
“Francis,” she said, the morning she was certain the birth was imminent, “we won’t be getting much sleep tonight.”
Fiona was most comfortable in the couple’s bedroom, where Francis had constructed a sturdy box, generous in diameter and eight inches deep. They placed it at the foot of their bed, the location that Fiona had settled on as her most frequent napping spot.
Clare was well aware of the intense nesting instincts of mother dogs. That being the case, she purposely left small, clean towels and blanket scraps around the house, so that Fiona would find and use them to build her nest. She had done a lovely job. The whelping box would be a comfortable resting place for mother and babies.
Sure enough, the puppies arrived in the wee hours, when the house was quiet, the windows dark. Ace and the Coco-Chis scratched at the bedroom door from time to time, understanding that something big was happening. They wanted to be a part of it. But not tonight.
From time to time, Francis would speak to the closed door. “Go to bed, Coco-Chis. You too, Ace.” And for a while, the scratching would stop.
Fiona gave birth to eight pups before the sun came up. Although it was not uncommon for a stillbirth to be among those delivered, all the pups were alive. And Fiona had plenty of milk to go around.
After a few days, the other members of the family were finally allowed to come into the room. Fiona was gentle n
atured, and having felt no threat from her new brothers and sisters, she allowed them to sniff to their heart’s delight. In fact, the Coco-Chis would often take turns watching over the pups while Fiona was away eating or spending time in the yard.
It wasn’t long before Clare noticed something different about one of the male pups. They’d named him Torch. He was almost all black with streaks of copper along his body that looked like flames.
At two weeks old, the puppies were becoming a little more mobile now. Clare had been observing Torch specifically. She noticed that he would actually avoid a vacant teat unless it was next to one specific littermate. She was the smallest in the litter, with a beautiful coloring of copper and cream. They called her Grace.
Clare was fascinated by their interactions. If Torch woke from a nap and Grace was not near him, he would not rest until he found her. For a pup so young, crawling from one end of that box to another took determination.
Getting close to Grace was exhausting. Sometimes she would make it easier for him. Sometimes she would seek him out. Other times she would wiggle and stretch her limbs, wanting to explore the space around her. Often she would reach for the top of the whelping box, wanting out. Whenever she was not near him, Torch would squeak, voicing his discontent.
Clare and Francis had provided around the clock care to the young pups, taking turns going to the store and running errands. As the puppies reached three weeks, they realized it was time for a date night. Their next door neighbor, Nancy came to sit with the dogs while they were gone. Nancy was close in age to Clare and Francis. She’d never remarried. She still lived in the house Luke grew up in. He visited several times a week to check on her and help her around the house.
Nancy was around regularly. Visitors were a novelty, and each time she came, there was excitement in the air. This time she’d brought treats for all the older dogs. Knotted bones for everyone. As she handed them out, the dogs sat expectantly, tails wagging. Each took his or hers and promptly went off with it. First licks at a bone were special occasions. Fiona took her treat to the kitchen, where she sprawled out with it on the cool tile.
Nancy had not seen the pups since the third day of their arrival. She made her way to the bedroom to check on them. With their mother away enjoying her bone, the pups were snuggled together for warmth.
As she sat next to the box on the floor, the little light colored one was beginning to stir. Grace rolled over on her back to untangle herself, stretching her chubby limbs. She opened her eyes and was startled at first, as she spotted Nancy off to the side. She rolled over onto her feet and sniffed the air. She liked the smell of this human. She wanted to get closer.
Nancy was pleased. You were never too old to love the feel of a puppy in your arms. Grace waddled toward her. Nancy scooped her up as soon as she was close enough. She cradled Grace, rolling her on her back, so she could rub her tummy.
The puppy was enjoying the interaction, but didn’t want to stay in that position. She kept trying to flip over, her legs flailing. She wanted to smell this human so badly. Nancy instinctively pulled the squirming pup closer, afraid that she would fall. Grace was finally able to sit upright in her arms.
She nuzzled in under Nancy’s chin, sniffing deeply. The familiar smells of her mother, siblings and other members of the household were all she knew. This was a different essence. But she liked it. It summoned up little squeals from deep in her belly.
The vocalizations had Torch opening his groggy eyes. Once again, she was away from him. He sniffed around to confirm her absence. Then he set about looking for her. Nancy didn’t notice him as he approached. She was fully absorbed in the happy circumstance of Grace’s affections. She found herself fully laughing from time to time, as wet kisses came one upon the next.
“You sweet baby doll. What did I do to deserve all this sugar?”
And then next to her from inside the box came Torch yelping with as much vigor as a toddling puppy could muster, as if to say, “Leave my Grace alone!”
This was all too much adorableness. Nancy’s head rolled back in laughter. Little Grace had a defender. Ace was watching, his bone in his mouth and his snout resting on the edge of the box. He seemed to be sympathizing with Torch’ cause, even as he did not understand it. Though he refused to let go of his bone, little whines came from his throat as if to say, “Don’t worry, Torch, Uncle Ace is here.”
It wasn’t immediately obvious what all the fuss was about, but as the tiny barks continued, Nancy made the connection between Torch, the boy pup and Grace, the girl in her arms. As an experiment, she placed Grace back in the box right next to him. The result seemed nothing less than the instant relief of his angst. At once, he was satisfied. Grace was close to him and in no one’s arms. Torch slumped into the soft bedding, seemingly exhausted from the effort. Grace settled in next to him, her head resting on his rump.
Nancy was anxious to recount the extraordinary event when her friends returned from dinner. And she did just that, as she and Clare enjoyed a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. She was a little disappointed that the story did not have the dramatic impact she was hoping for. It had apparently become a rather common occurrence that little Torch fretted when Grace was not nearby and that he was fiercely protective of his much smaller sis.
“Who can explain such connections?” Clare wondered aloud.
Nancy sipped at her coffee and pondered just that question.
Though they were not ready to leave their mother, several of the puppies were spoken for. Francis had become an expert at finding suitable homes. Clare had purposely held back from offering Torch and Grace. It was clear that they should not be separated. And yet, she knew their brood was larger than it should be. With Fiona, Grace and Torch, there would be three large dogs in the family.
“It would be a shame for Torch and Grace to go to different homes,” Clare was talking again.
“Yes, it would. But you’ve got your hands full here.”
“So true. We do.”
As Clare poured herself another coffee, an idea was bubbling up in her brain. Like any mother, she was always setting about planning the lives of her children.
“It’s probably difficult to find someone willing to take two dogs at once.”
“It certainly is,” Clare replied. “Sometimes you have to settle for the next best thing.”
“What would that be in this case?”
“In this case, it might be that brother and sister could be next door neighbors.”
It took another sip of coffee before Nancy realized what Clare was suggesting.
“You mean you want me to take one of them?”
“Why not? You shouldn’t be alone so much.”
Nancy didn’t comment on that. She didn’t feel lonely. Luke was around a lot. And Nancy was a homebody. She enjoyed her routine and her hobbies. No, she wasn’t lonely.
But there was something about her interaction with little Grace that brought a certain kind of joy. Perhaps it was the simple act of growing older that gave one a greater sense of the preciousness of new life. Maybe it was just the feeling of being particularly liked by the darling little dog. She’d never had a daughter. Maybe it wasn’t too late to see what that felt like to have a girl in the house. There was a moment’s pause as she thought it over.
“Well, if I were to take her, I would have to change her name.”
“Of course. Of course. Whatever you like.”
“It’s a sweet name. It isn’t that I don’t care for it.”
“Oh my goodness,” Clare went to retrieve a box of tissues as Nancy’s eyes filled.
She handed it to her and retook her seat.
“What is it?”
And as she pulled out a tissue and moved it to her eyes, Nancy told Clare the story of her son, Luke and his Grace and of the long and difficult journey of his life.
In all these years, she had never really discussed it in great detail. Luke deserved his privacy. And it was no one’s business, anyway. She was
not one for spilling the personal details of her life or her family’s life. But at her age, at this time, in this home, she felt finally able to release the words to a gentle ear. Clare listened intently, offering Nancy more tissues from time to time.
There was a marked therapeutic result to finally putting words to all the emotions stacked one upon the next throughout the years. As she spoke, Nancy reached less and less for the tissues. As she laid the sentences together, it was as though she were releasing the very weight of anxiety and worry that she’d been storing within herself since the day of Grace’s death.
Even as she poured out her deep disappointment that her son seemed forever trapped in time by the events of his youth, she felt lighter inside. Even as she acknowledged his failure to realize the full potential of his life, she felt a release.
The words continued to flow, and she realized that for all this time, she’d been carrying a heavy weight herself. She had allowed the circumstances of Luke’s life to convince her that a mother does not move on if their child does not move on. Because Luke was stuck, she stayed stuck with him.
It was never the right thing to do. It was no help to him, either. It was her job to provide a better example. She’d lost so many years, beginning that very first dark day. Perhaps there was still time to live a little.
“I would love to take her.” A thousand wrinkles could not disguise the youthful anticipation of having her very own puppy. The excitement bubbled up into a gorgeous smile. Clare was utterly delighted.
“Lovely! What will you call her?”
“Sugar.”
* * * * *
Since Nancy lived next door, Sugar was able to stay with her mother and Torch for longer than the rest of their siblings. The others were relocated to their forever homes one by one, until Sugar and Torch had their mother Fiona all to themselves. Torch was less anxious now that there were no other pups. He could find Sugar readily, despite the barrage of scents that sifted through his nostrils at all moments of the day.