GARRETT HART
Garrett followed his usual walking path. Rustling leaves and twittering birds filled the air. The sweet smell of pines and hot earth wafted on a light breeze.
But he barely registered the late afternoon beauty of the woods. Instead he concentrated on looking for Natalie's son. Every few feet, Garrett cupped his hands in front of his mouth and yelled for Mike, but got no response.
He circled back around and zigzagged a different way. Just as he stopped to shout for Mike again, he heard a twig snap to his right. He followed the noise and caught a glimpse of a yellow and blue striped shirt.
Garrett hurried forward, but Mike didn't go much farther. He watched as the boy sat next to a tree and looked up at the sky.
"Hi, Mike," he said, striding forward and sitting down.
"What do you want?"
"Your mom's worried about you. She wanted me to find you."
"So?"
Garrett ignored the boy's belligerent tone. "Didn't you hear me calling for you?"
Mike looked at him, his lips pinched and his eyes wary. "Maybe."
"Either you did or you didn't," Garrett said.
"I did, okay? I just don't feel like going back yet."
"Fine. We'll stay here for a while."
Mike tossed him a look of surprise.
"I walk in these woods a lot," Garrett said. "It's really beautiful at night. Sometimes, I'll just sit next to a tree and look at the stars."
Garrett heard Mike's shirt rub against the bark as the boy shifted. He looked at the sky, visible despite the tall, leafy trees. "I look for shooting stars. I saw one once when I was a kid. It was magnificent."
"I saw a shooting star once, too," Mike said. "But it was no big deal."
"Did you make a wish?"
Mike gave him a yeah-right-I'm-a-cool-guy look, and said, "Did you?"
"Yes."
"Did it come true?"
Garrett hesitated. That night long ago he'd wished with all the hope in his thirteen-year-old heart that he would find the courage to stand up to his old man. He did.
"Yes, Mike. It took a while, but my wish came true."
Silence descended. Garrett glanced at Mike, who was tossing pebbles into the grass.
He wondered what he should say. He didn't think Mike would go for a consoling pat or hug.
Then he saw the tear streaks on Mike's face—and Garrett knew with an insight that frightened him that Natalie's son was lonely and scared. A reflection of the boy Garrett had once been.
"Why did you run away from your mother?"
"Because I didn't want to stay here. I don't want you to boss me around."
"I have no intention of bossing you or your sisters around."
Mike looked at him suspiciously. "Isn't that what you brought us here for? Discipline?"
"Yes, but discipline isn't bossing someone around. Do you know what discipline means in Latin?"
The boy shook his head.
"It means 'to teach.' That's what I plan to do."
"Don't we have to do everything you say?" Mike asked.
"What do you think I'm going to ask you to do?"
"I don't know."
Garrett picked a blade of grass and stroked his chin with it. "Then what are you afraid of?"
"I'm not afraid of you." Mike's voice was defiant. "I just think this whole thing is dumb. Besides, Mom says you aren't going to win. And when we win the money, I'm going to get a new lens for my telescope."
Garrett digested that information. So Natalie didn't think he was going to win? And she had promised her son a new telescope lens?
Annoyance pricked him. She had no confidence in his skills. She probably thought he was just a stupid vet who didn't have the first clue about children.
And she's close to right, the voice of reason interrupted, but he tamped the thought down. He knew about behavior and discipline, dog or child, it was basically the same.
And he would prove it. But first, he had to think about Mike. Then he would think about Natalie.
"Maybe some time you could bring your telescope out and show me the constellations."
"Really? This is a great place—" Mike stopped. "We probably won't see you again after this bet's over."
Garrett looked Mike in the eye. "You and your family are welcome to come out here any time. Whether you bring your telescope or not—I'd appreciate your company."
"Do you mean it? What if Mom makes you mad?"
"That has nothing to do with it," Garrett said and proffered his hand. He meant what he said. Somehow Natalie's children were nudging their way into his life, and for a reason he didn't want to examine too deeply, he wanted to keep in touch.
Mike looked at him for a few seconds and then he grinned. He grasped Garrett's hand and shook it.
"I'm sorry I was, uh, you know."
"It's okay," he said. He stood up. "And we're going to be stuck with the bread heels if we don't hurry back."
After Mike stood and brushed off his jeans, Garrett turned in the direction of the house.
They'd only taken a few steps when a terrified yowl cut through the trees. Garrett looked at Mike, who shrugged. He listened for a minute and then started walking again. Another whimper-yowl-bark stopped them in their tracks.
"It's Rigby," Garrett said. "It sounds like he's in trouble."
"We'd better find him."
They turned around and followed the occasional yowls and barks that emitted from what seemed like thin air. Finally, the pitiful whimpers sounded louder and they stopped to look around.
Garrett told Mike to go around to the left and then he took the right. He didn't see signs of Rigby or any dog for that matter. He met Mike under a tall oak. "Did you find anything?" he asked.
Mike pointed up. Garrett's gaze followed the boy's extended finger to the broad, flat limb that hung about a foot above Garrett's head.
There was Rigby, sitting pretty-as-you-please, among the leaves.