Mar ch 4| An Old Hole in Our Lives
Dr. Plunker finds me leaning against a thick oak on the outskirts of town.
“I didn’t bite him.”
“I never thought you did, but I think you know who it was.”
Caution weighs my gaze as it swivels toward him. I say nothing. I don’t like Brute. I’d like to forget he exists.
“Can you tell me how many there are like you?”
I turn away, temple against the tree trunk, shoulders hunched, and eyes unfocused but vaguely pointed in the direction of the oak’s gnarled bark.
“They tried it on coyotes first. They want us to be wild. No, they want us to be ruthless and obedient at the same time.” The cloak catches on the bark with tiny snapping noises as I slide to the ground, arms wrapped around myself. “I think to become human you have to want to understand humans. Who wants to understand humans more than a dog, right?” I trail off, voice so quiet I barely hear myself.
Despite his near deafness sometimes, Dr. Plunker catches every word. “How many dogs, Mar?”
“How many have they tried it on? I have no idea. The subjects all die. All except me and one other.”
“Not an army, then.” He sighs in relief.
I look up. “That’s what they want.” He is a yard away, yet everything blurs. Excess tears burn in my eyes and spill as I blink over them. They multiply. A silly human reaction. It clogs my nose. At least a drooping tail and folded ears don’t impair one’s sight and smell.
“I’m sorry, Mar.” Even through the smeared panorama, he lacks Asher’s youthful agility and Uncle’s finesse. With the resigned movements of the elderly, he plops beside me, shaky knees refusing a gentler landing. His arm slides around my shoulders. “This isn’t why I brought you to town, you know.”
A jittery warmth fills me and impedes the tears a little.
“Do you remember what the room looked like where you first woke up in our house?”
I nod. “Everything was yellow.” A slight hyperbole. The walls remain white, and Mrs. Plunker has since dyed the yellow curtains and bed covers to a deep blue. She knitted a matching throw for the chair. Its wood, the bedside table, and the dresser are brown. Silk bluebonnets replaced silk sunflowers.
“Yellow is the color of hope and remembrance, of waiting for return.”
Doubt lowers my ears and eyes.
The doctor plunges on. “The room used to belong to Matthew Plunker, my son, but a storm took him from us many years ago. Mrs. Plunker knows he cannot return, yet she insists on the abundance of hopeful yellow.”
“But she changed it. The room is blue now.”
With a wan smile, Dr. Plunker nods. “Because we have you, Mar. You fill an old hole in our lives. We’d like to adopt you. Officially. Legally.”
“But I belong to the Azurés. To Asher.”
“As a dog, yes, but not as a boy.”
I frown. I’m still me. I slide away from him—a subtle movement, but not unnoticed.
“I’m not asking you to take this lightly,” Dr. Plunker says. “I’m giving you a choice and asking you to think. You know you cannot go back to Asher.”
I know, but I don’t want to hear anyone say it.
As I rise, he grabs my wrist. “Help me up.”
I do. I shouldn’t run from him. I know the offer means a great deal. I can be happy with them. This is my best chance.
“What would a legal adoption involve?”
“We’ve already drawn up most of the paperwork,” he answers hastily. “We said you’re fourteen, an orphaned relative from the far northern territories. But the judge wants to meet you, Mar.”
“So, that’s why you brought me to town. I can meet the judge today and go home as part of your family?” Though I’m still torn, I can’t keep excitement from creeping into my voice, and the doctor’s smile broadens.
“Yes.” He fishes in his vest pocket and pulls out a black cloth that smells like the bandage cabinet. “However, we’ll tell the judge nothing of the Azurés. We can’t let him have any connection between you and whatever bit that cattleman.”
He hands me the cloth. I don’t know what he intends for me to do with it.
“Your hair covers your ears well enough, and your teeth aren’t noticeable when you’re not smiling or eating, but your eyes are conspicuous: a memorable sapphire mismatched with unsettling black. You’ll have to cover one.”
I retreat, cloth held at arm’s length, hoping he’ll take it back.
Before either of us moves, a swarm of message bugs comes for the doctor. Beetle-like, their buzz makes my ears itch. I retreat further as they swirl around Dr. Plunker. Their bloated bodies blink in a code I have not yet been taught.
“I’m needed elsewhere,” my doctor says. His body language tells me not to follow before his words do. “Wait for me at the saloon in the center of town.”
Continued in chapter 5
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