Storm Watcher Page 8

  The tightness in his chest eased a bit. Luke stood. Fishing all the new puppy supplies from the garbage can, he placed them into another bag and finished cleaning up the Palace.

  At the thought of going into the house and facing Dad, Luke’s heart squeezed in panic. Instead, he grabbed the bag and left. He had no destination in mind, but he ended up at the top of Willajean’s driveway just as the sky darkened. Not surprising. The dogs never judged him, never got mad at him, never ignored him. Being with them gave Luke a few hours without guilt and grief – something he lacked at home.

  But would he be welcome anymore? He owed Willajean an apology for lying to her. The image of Alayna’s smirking face almost stopped him, but he continued to the kennel. Peeking in to visit the dogs turned out to be a bad idea. They barked as soon as they heard him, and in a matter of minutes, Willajean arrived to check out the noise.

  Blunt and straight to the point as always, she said, “I talked to your father.”

  “I know.” Luke kicked a pebble on the ground. “I’m very sorry about the papillon. But you can still sell the pup. Right?”

  “I meant your father just called looking for you.”

  “Really?” Surprised Dad cared enough about him to call, Luke glanced at Willajean. Unless Dad wanted to yell at him or ground him or send him to foster care. Or maybe all three. His head spun. Nothing was easy peasy anymore.

  She nodded. “He said you might show up here.”

  This is the only place I could go. Before Mom died, his best friend Ethan had invited him to the pool like he’d done every summer since they were in third grade. But Ethan hadn’t talked to him since April.

  Willajean watched him for a moment. “That pup’s still yours. You worked hard for her.”

  “I can’t bring her home.”

  She considered. “What do you have in the bag?”

  “Oh, this.” His face flushed with heat. Willajean probably thought he was running away from home. “Just some dog stuff. I couldn’t...” Luke swallowed the rest. It was his birthday present after all, and he couldn’t bear to see it thrown away.

  Willajean sorted through the bag. Then she carried it over to the empty crate next to Lance’s. Without asking Luke, she put the new dog bed, chew toy, and water bowl into the crate. She hung the leash and collar on the wall.

  “There.” Willajean stepped back. “Now your puppy has a home. She can stay as long as you need.”

  Luke gawked. Why wasn’t Willajean mad? Was this a trick? His emotions flip-flopped between amazement, excitement, and disbelief. “But… I can’t… It’s too much… My dad…”

  “You’re still taking care of her – food, walks, clean up, training – the works. Besides, Lance is lonely out here.”

  “Ah…” He pressed his lips together. Don’t overthink things. “Thanks.”

  Willajean smiled. “Anytime. It’s getting late, I’ll give you a ride home.”

  He followed her to her Jeep. Once inside, he rested his head back. Exhaustion swept through him. What an awful day. When she pulled up in front of his house, he panicked. “Do I have to tell my dad about the puppy?”

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “That I shouldn’t lie to my dad.”

  “Always good advice.”

  “But what if he tells me I can’t keep her?”

  “Technically, you’re not keeping her, I am. But if he doesn’t approve, he might not let you come over anymore.”

  That thought horrified him. “Then what should I do?”

  “It’s your decision.”

  Oh great. Luke slid from the car. She gave him a half-wave and drove away. He stood there on the sidewalk, watching the red tail lights fade in the distance. Maybe he should have invited her inside so Dad didn’t kill him. All his muscles ached as if he’d been shoved into a giant washing machine. That about summed up his day. He was in no hurry to go inside.

  He had to face Dad eventually and had to decide what to tell him.

  Too bad, he had no clue.

  CHAPTER 10

  Ignorance is Bliss

  As Luke turned the knob of the front door, he braced for Dad’s anger before slipping inside the house. Sitting in the recliner, Dad was reading the paper. The Phillies baseball game was on TV. Sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, Jacob and Scott tossed a soccer ball back and forth.

  “They’ll never make the playoffs,” Scott said. “They’re down ten games.”

  “They’re a clutch team,” Jacob countered. “It’s only July twenty-seventh. Plenty of time for the Phils to catch up.”

  Luke closed the door. The lock clicked loudly. His brothers ignored him.

  Without looking up from the newspaper, Dad said, “Your dinner’s in the fridge.”

  Relieved that Dad didn’t yell at him, Luke dashed into the kitchen. Heating up the leftover pizza, Luke mulled over his conversation with Willajean. He really didn’t need to say anything to Dad about the papillon. If Dad asked, then he’d tell him, if not… Why cause more problems? Luke wouldn’t be lying.

  By the time he finished and cleaned up, Dad had gone to bed. Luke blew out the breath he’d been holding. To avoid becoming a target for his brothers, he headed straight upstairs to his room.

  Although it was only nine o’clock, Luke collapsed on top of his bed. He hoped he wouldn’t have another fight with Dad or his brothers. But deep down, he suspected there’d be plenty more arguments. After all, they hated him. At least Willajean let him keep the papillon. The best part of the day.

  “Willajean?” Luke gripped the phone with a sweat-slicked hand. “I can’t come today. Big storm headed this way. Hurricane Boyd’s supposed to take a swipe at us.”

  “The wind sensor is measuring wind gusts of forty miles per hour,” Willajean said in amazement. “No rain yet, but I can drive you home if it does.”

  “No. It’s too dangerous.” Luke hung up the phone. Shaking, he ran into the living room to wait for the next storm update on the Weather Channel.

  An insurance commercial played on the TV, quoting that more than a thousand people die each year because of the weather. Rainstorms, windstorms, snowstorms, and extreme weather like hurricanes, tornados, bitter cold, and heat waves all caused deaths. The dire statistics increased his fear.

  On a nice day, learning about these storms fascinated Luke, but with a hurricane closing in, any mention of fatalities just terrified him.

  It had been a beautiful summer. Until now. Luke clutched a large pillow to his pounding chest. June and July had been dry and storm free, but not August. Only ten days into the month, and the second hurricane of the season barreled toward them.

  Luke hoped Willajean’s tower wouldn’t blow over in the storm. After the fight with Dad, Luke had figured out how to calibrate the instruments on his own. Dad was still giving him the cold shoulder.

  Bitterness coated the back of Luke’s throat. You’re not supposed to ignore your own son. Mom would have just yelled at him, but when she calmed down, she’d hug him and apologize for losing her temper. Not Dad. He held grudges for months.

  A cool graphic on the Weather Channel showed the lightning strikes within the outer rain bands of the hurricane.

  Luke thought of Mom. What were the odds? Something like a million to one. Although, to be fair, the lightning had struck her van, blowing out the tires. If only she’d missed the tree...

  Digging his fingers into the pillow, Luke forced his thoughts away from the accident. Was there a device that could predict where lightning would strike? If not, someone should invent a portable lightning detector for cars and for people who worked outside.

  Lightning was basically electricity. How hard could it be? The detector would need to measure the static electricity in the air. Forgetting about the imp
ending hurricane for a moment, Luke puzzled over the problem.

  Dad came into the living room and glanced at the TV. Finally, he asked, “Do you want me to ask Grandmom to come over today?”

  Luke shook his head. He wouldn’t risk Grandmom driving in the rain. As it was, he had to clamp his mouth shut when Dad and his brothers left for work. Previous pleas that they stay safe at home hadn’t worked. Jacob and Scott had mocked him about his fear of storms since he could remember.

  No one understood. Except Mom.

  “It’s my fault,” she’d say. “I thought if you learned about what causes the thunder and lightning, you wouldn’t be afraid. But it made you more scared. Now I know what they mean by ignorance is bliss.”

  The wind whistled outside. Luke checked all the windows, making sure they were secure. In the kitchen, he peered out at their fenced-in backyard. The trees creaked ominously. The Puppy Palace was under a huge oak that dropped branches during storms. With winds gusting up to seventy miles per hour, a big limb could break off and crash onto the Palace, hurting the dogs. Or killing them!

  Luke clutched the counter’s edge. He had to bring the dogs inside, but that meant going outside. Dirt and leaves blew past. The neighbor’s laundry flapped. The bushes rattled. Letting go of the counter, Luke moved toward the back door. He grabbed the handle. Paused.

  His heart jolted with every gust. He gauged the distance from the house to the Palace. Too far. Leaning his forehead against the door, he closed his eyes as he worked up his nerve.

  I can do this. I have to do this. The dogs were part of his family. If they were hurt… No. Not on my watch.

  In one quick motion, he straightened, yanked the door open, and bolted toward the Palace before he could change his mind. Happy to see him, the dogs circled Luke’s legs and almost tripped him as they sought his attention. Sweeping his arms out, he herded them into the house. After he locked the door, he sagged against it. He’d done it.

  The bloodhounds followed him into the living room – the safest spot in the house except for the basement. But Luke wouldn’t go down there unless there was a tornado warning. He needed to keep an eye on the windows and the storm.

  Ranger jumped onto Dad’s recliner and settled down for a nap, but Hounddog and Moondoggie didn’t come inside the house very often. Excited, they sniffed every inch of the carpet and explored all the rooms before plopping on the couch with Luke. After much jockeying for the best position, they draped themselves over him like a living blanket. They snored as he watched Boyd creep closer with each new radar update.

  After making landfall in Delaware, Boyd lost some steam and was downgraded from a category one hurricane to a tropical storm. The outer rain bands of the still-potent storm reached central Pennsylvania by noon. Wind and rain battered the house as a shrill keening filled the air.

  Thunder rumbled, vibrating deep in Luke’s chest. His heart beat its own frantic storm rhythm as Boyd advanced. Despite the heat and his sweat-soaked T-shirt, Luke stayed under his dog comforter too frightened to move.

  First the cable went out. Luke stared at the snowy static, willing it to come back on. Then the electricity flickered and died. Heavy rain thrummed on the roof. Tree branches twisted like acrobats in the wind.

  On the edge of panic, Luke puffed for breath. The storm could destroy his house, and there was nothing Luke could do.

  And yet, the dogs slept peacefully. Not a care in the world.

  Ignorance really was bliss.

  His brothers arrived home at six o’clock. By then, the rain had slowed to a drizzle. They’d been smart to wait until the storm had passed. But not smart enough to keep from dripping water on the carpet.

  “Hersheypark closed,” Jacob said. “You should see the puddles.”

  “Have you heard from Dad?” Luke asked. The house phone was dead, but the twins had their cells.

  “Yep. He’s busy with emergency calls. We won’t see him for a few days.”

  “Why are the dogs inside?” Scott asked as Hound-dog circled his legs.

  “Take a look in the back yard.” Luke hooked a thumb toward the kitchen.

  Curious, they went to investigate. He waited for their reactions.

  “Oh crap, Dad’s gonna be pissed,” Jacob said.

  “Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks,” Scott added. “Hey, Luke, come on. We’d better clean it up.” He whistled for the dogs.

  The three bloodhounds rushed into the kitchen, their toenails clicking on the floor. Luke hesitated, gnawing on his bottom lip. The winds had died down. Moving slowly, he joined his brothers outside. Leaves, branches, trash, and shingles covered the lawn. The dogs sniffed at the debris. The air smelled of moist earth and cut grass.

  How many people had Boyd killed? Sorrow for their families pulsed in Luke’s chest. At least they could blame the storm. Not that it would make them feel any better.

  A big branch from the oak tree had crashed to the ground next to the Puppy Palace. Part of it had clipped the Palace’s roof, damaging the front half of the shed. Luke helped his brothers move the heavy limb. The wet bark scrapped his palms and forearms.

  “It’s not a total loss,” Scott said. “I’ll get some plastic to cover the roof. Jake, why don’t you find something heavy to weigh it down with. Luke, how about picking up all the broken pieces?”

  They worked together. Although Luke nervously glanced at the sky from time to time, his brothers didn’t tease him. Sweat stained his T-shirt, but Luke enjoyed helping Jacob and Scott. When they finished, the twins stepped back to examine their work.

  “It’ll do for now,” Jacob said.

  “Once the beds dry out, the dogs can sleep in here again.” Scott looked at Luke. “Good call bringing the dogs inside.”

  Jacob agreed. “They could have been hurt.”

  Surprised at the compliment and afraid his voice would squeak, Luke nodded.

  “Hey, boys,” their next-door neighbor called. “Could you help me? My umbrella blew into a tree.”

  “Sure thing, Mrs. Read,” Scott said. “Come on, guys.”

  The three of them spent the rest of the evening assisting their neighbors. Despite the hard and often times muddy work, Luke had a blast.

  “Today’s the day,” Willajean announced as she strode into the training yard. Five white puppies trotted after her.

  The papillon pups were eight weeks old and ready to go to their new homes. Alayna’s absence made the day extra special for Luke. Because school started next week, she’d gone shopping for school clothes.

  Luke had visited the pups almost every day since they’d been born, watching and analyzing the litter. He’d like to keep them all. Each dog wore a different-colored collar. But Luke didn’t need the colors to identify them. These pups were as familiar to him as the weather patterns. Each puppy had a unique personality. A distinct bark. Different markings.

  The pups had been coming to the yard this past week to see what they would do. No serious training, just fun and games and treats scattered around for them to find.

  The pup with the red collar headed right to Luke. Her pure white coat was unmarked along her body, but her butterfly ears and face were solid black. Grinning, Luke knelt in the grass.

  “Who’s a pretty girl?” He scratched behind her ears just the way she liked it.

  She peered at him with quick inquisitive eyes. Unable to resist, he picked her up, and she licked his cheek. She’d been the first pup to climb out of the whelping box, driving Willajean crazy with her escapes.

  When Luke put her down, she darted quick as a whippet out to the field where the corn was as tall as Willajean. Reappearing, the dog skimmed the ground with her nose, heading straight for a treat.

  “She’s got the best sniffer of the pack, but she’s a handful. Willful, determined, and out
right stubborn. She’ll either cause an ulcer or be the best tracker I’ve seen in awhile.” Willajean rubbed her fingers on her temple.

  “Do you want to keep her?” Luke asked. Although he had first pick of the litter, he didn’t want to upset Willajean. She planned to keep one of the pups.

  “No way. I’m not that crazy.” She grinned.

  Relief filled him. “Then I’ll take her.”

  “I thought so. Do you have a name yet?”

  All the clichéd names had been rolling around his mind for the past month. Marshmallow. Sugar. White Chocolate. Angel. Nothing seemed to fit. Luke studied the puppy. Suddenly, she shot forward, beating one of her brothers to a hidden treat, then bolted past another. She was quick.

  “Lightning.” The name popped out of his mouth.

  “Perfect. After all, she was born at Storm Watcher Kennel.” Willajean’s smile turned thoughtful. “I was running out of butterfly species names. Do you mind if I copy you?”

  “I don’t mind,” Luke said, flattered. He mentally applied cool storm names to different dogs. Thunder. Blizzard. Cyclone.

  Soon, Megan joined Willajean and Luke in the training yard, Lance by her side. Megan had convinced her mother to let her have him.

  “You picked Red Collar, didn’t you?” Megan asked.

  “Yep. That obvious?”

  “Oh yeah. What’s her name?”

  “Lightning.”

  “Cool! But she’s going to be trouble.”

  “He chose the best,” Willajean said. “I’m keeping Black Collar. Luke, can you name him for me?”

  “Okay.” Wow, she really trusts me.