EYES ON YOU Page 4

  “I’ll have the arugula and kale salad with lite Italian on the side,” Roman said to the server, unwilling to look at Eli or Cheryl as he ordered and refolded his menu.

  Amanda, their server, and someone who had worked at Lenore’s for several years, whispered rather loudly, “It’s better to start a diet on a Sunday.”

  Refusing to relent, Roman grinned at Amanda before he said, “I’ll have a two-day jumpstart then.”

  Eli ordered the fried cod platter with sides of baked beans and French fries. As soon as Amanda gave her customary smile and departed to put in their orders, Cheryl leaned in to say, “You think you’ve gained a little weight, but you’ve just proportionally padded your bones, Bro.”

  Soft chuckles ensued from Eli and Roman. Eli said to Cheryl, “Tell me you’ll say that when I need it.”

  “Actually….”

  Sucking in the small paunch he had going at his mid-section that showed beneath his dress shirt and suit coat, sitting up so straight that he looked off-balanced in his seat, Eli managed to make his five-feet, nine-inch height appear more prominent. With a straight face, he said, “Are you tryin’ to tell me somethin,’ Sugar-Babe?”

  Roman laughed again at the two of them. Cheryl was five-ten in her stocking feet and hadn’t gained a pound in all of her adult life, except when she was pregnant with both their boys. During both pregnancies, she had gained an enormous amount of weight, craving everything imaginable, but had taken the weight off soon after Patrick and then, again, after Danny had been born.

  The couple had been married for over seventeen years and still had what Roman called marital synergy. They had both come up through the ranks of the police department quickly after college, and Cheryl was drop-dead awesome in looks and ability. She could manhandle any lout she encountered, out-shoot her husband, was good friends with the district attorney, and yet she was the typical supportive spouse, content to allow Eli to step ahead of her in rank. The one with the official title of chief was Otis Fairbanks, currently undergoing chemo-therapy and radiation treatments for stomach cancer.

  “Let’s just change the subject,” Eli declared with a humored look. “We’re in agreement about the bone ‘padding,’ Roman.” Eli made air quotes, again chuckling at Cheryl’s tactful description of Roman’s weight gain. After he had broken his ankle in late summer of the previous year, Roman had put twenty-five or more pounds on, since he had been relegated to crutches for several weeks and had eaten more than he was able to burn off.

  “Women are still waiting for a call…a text…I can think of three,” Cheryl extolled.

  To his knowledge, there were only three single women in town who even remotely fit into the perimeter of possibility, but he hadn’t officially dated any of them. He smiled at Cheryl’s ongoing attempt to match him up with someone. Anyone.

  “There are now four,” Eli quickly inserted and was interrupted by the static and loud message coming from his shoulder-held radio. Everyone in the restaurant quieted to listen, but the message was coded, and delivered so fast that no one but he and Cheryl could make it out. “Ten-four. Thirty minutes.”

  Cheryl was looking quizzically at him, while Roman accepted his tea, one of three drinks on a tray that Amanda held. When the server left again, Cheryl asked, “Who’s the fourth?”

  “New lady. I mean woman.” He looked at Roman while squeezing a lemon wedge into his tea. “She looks a whole lot like you, Cheryl. She’s tall, and looks sorta like someone we’ve seen before.”

  Roman said nothing, but he hadn’t forgotten.

  Cheryl’s degree of interest was growing. “Oh, yeah?”

  Eli filled his wife in. “She’s got a son who got in a little trouble at school. Nothin’ serious.” To Roman, he said, “I know you weren’t lookin’ ‘cause you were workin,’ but I always just look.”

  Some wives would have chafed at their husbands, but Cheryl merely smiled at Eli for admitting what most married men, like their single counterparts, routinely did. They looked at other women.

  Their food came and they waited until Amanda had placed everything on the table. “What else can I get you guys?” she asked in a pleasant tone.

  “You remembered the tartar sauce,” Eli remarked to Amanda. “So we’re all good, I think.”

  Roman’s salad was tasty looking and surprisingly big. His eyes, however, went to the hot and delicious-smelling food that was on Eli’s and Cheryl’s plates.

  “She’s tall, like I said, name’s Ms. Leitner and she’s right cunnin,’” Eli remarked while grinning at his wife. Amanda placed one last thing on the table—a small bowl with a large meatball-shaped, beef patty on it. She smiled down at Mona.

  “What’s that?” Roman liked playing dumb, looking first at Amanda and then back to the lunch counter where Lenore was standing. The morsel of beef was always for Mona, but Mona knew that she had to wait until it was time to leave before she received it. He smiled at Amanda and thanked her, before waving a thanks to Lenore.

  “You said a Ms. Leitner,” Cheryl said to her husband with a curious, direct gaze. “So, she’s married?”

  “Uh…did I say that?” Eli asked, before washing down a first big bite of his food with his tea. “‘Jessica’ I think I remember her sayin.’ And nope, I’m thinkin’ she said she was divorced from her former husband—who we were told is deceased.” He glanced again at Roman.

  Roman took a big bite from his salad, chewed and swallowed before saying, “Lives on the island and she’s Ruth’s niece.”

  “Pie Lady Ruth?” Cheryl’s interest exploded.

  Roman grinned, not looking at Cheryl, loving how her curiosity was getting the best of her.

  “Now I didn’t know that,” Eli muttered while dipping a piece of freshly-caught cod into his tartar sauce.

  “I must have missed something,” Roman idly muttered, before taking in another forkful of his salad. Eli stopped chewing, long enough to flash an incredulous look at him.

  Cheryl hadn’t touched her food yet, looking at her brother with a load of disbelief written on her face. Then she grinned and declared, “I’ll call Mom to get all the lowdown.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The Mayer sister-brother duo had one other sibling named Frederick. Freddie, as those in the family called him, lived in Natchitoches, Louisiana, with his wife Gail and their three kids. He had migrated south years before, after taking a job with a natural gas company, and was now the company’s COO in charge of southern district. He, Gail and their three kids lived on a farm and raised Catahoula Leopard hounds.

  Mona had been given to Roman as a puppy at four months old, and had just begun being housebroken when Roman got her. Rather than put her on an airliner and take the risk of her getting sick or something happening to her in the baggage hold, he had rented a vehicle and driven her all the way back to Maine. He had never thought of himself as a dog person, although they’d had two dogs while growing up that were both dear to everyone in the family. And, he hadn’t much wanted a dog, but Freddie and Gail had insisted that he have this particular pup.

  “She’ll be your best friend, Roman, and she’ll never let you down,” Freddie had told him.

  On the way home, he and the puppy had begun to bond in a significant way. Not once had she made a mess in the car during the nearly 1600 mile trip, and she’d sat in the front seat of the vehicle looking reconciled to her fate as a southern dog who was on her way to becoming a Mainer. From time to time, she whined, missing her littermates, and that was when Roman would stop the car at a rest stop and play with her until she tired herself out. The trip back to Maine had taken the better part of a week.

  Catahoula Leopard dogs were originally bred to be hog and cattle herders. Consequently, one of Mona’s natural instincts was to herd any group, even a group of people, and Roman had to be aware of that when he was out with her. She was a large dog, seventy-five pounds, and had unusual coloring that occasionally scared a few people. Her coat was mottled in shades of brown, gray, white
and black. The most distinctive thing about her, besides her cerulean blue eyes, were the leopard markings all over her back, sides and legs.

  After he had gotten her home, he had continued to socialize her whenever possible, taking her to the park to be around kids with their quick movements and high-pitched voices. They brought out her gentle, playful nature, although he noticed her strong herding instinct as well, when kids would spread out to play ball or tag. Mona’s tendency was to “re-gather” them into a small group, and that proved to be comical and downright charming, but it also let Roman know that he was going to have to put forth a lot of effort to redirect, or at least to dampen, some of what nature had instilled. Her “nose herding” could push the very young, and many of the older, less robust humans to the ground.

  It wasn’t until she was about a year old that he began to see how her inquisitive nature had begun to expand into empathy. Although she was always a “clown” with Roman, she began to become more attuned to those who were suffering, doing whatever she could to comfort them. This extraordinary aptitude was first recognized not by Roman, but by Julia Mayer, Roman’s mother.

  Julia thoroughly enjoyed having Mona “take care of her,” as she put it, during the week when Roman left the island for ten or more hours each day. She happened to strain her back one day while lifting something heavy, and had the foresight to lie down, which wasn’t something she ordinarily did during the day. As soon as she was down, Mona went to her bedside and stood there with her head resting on the edge of the bed. She had the saddest eyes, Julia related later that day to Roman, and she wouldn’t move for hours, even when Julia told Mona that she was all right—that she’d gotten a kink that would sort itself out in a bit.

  After that, Roman began to notice how Mona would lie beside him on the couch in the evening, especially on the nights when work-related problems, or his ongoing battle with depression, weighed him down. Mona would rest her head on his thigh and not twitch or move a muscle. Her eyes remained open and she seemed acutely aware that her master was suffering. She refused to sleep when she was “working.” Mona was a natural at comforting those who were physically or emotionally unwell, giving all of herself to the effort.

  *****

  When Roman and Mona returned to the Counseling Services office, early afternoon had turned to gray, with heavy cloud cover signaling that snow was likely. As soon as he turned into the parking lot, he saw a black Range Rover idling near the door, exhaust billowing from its tailpipe. He parked his own fuel hog, a seven-year-old Navigator, next to the Rover.

  After Jessica Leitner shut off the Rover’s engine, mother and son got out. Roman opened the passenger door to let Mona out, anxious to see how the Leitner family would react. He hadn’t had time to process the conversation with his sister and brother-in-law, hoping that the remarks Eli had made about Ms. Leitner would not have the effect of changing—or skewing—how he, as a professional therapist, regarded either her, or her son. The boy, Aden, was surprised to see a large dog and dressed in a blue sweater hop down from the car seat. Mona ran right to him, wagging her tail, and the boy’s sullen look disappeared. He stooped to rub Mona’s dropped ears, instantly occupied with the task, as he asked her name.

  “Mona,” said Roman in a lighthearted way. “She rarely meets a stranger, but if she does, and for whatever reason doesn’t like the person, I’ve learned to value her opinion.” He took a first real look at Jessica Leitner and, almost immediately, had to glance away again. Eli was dead-on right with his assessment of her, although Roman’s moment’s worth of evaluation would have toppled Eli’s.

  Mona knew the rudiments of protocol and went to Ms. Leitner to be greeted. The woman was quite tall, now that Roman was able to see her standing up, and rather than stoop over, she dropped to a knee in the parking lot as she smilingly said, “Aren’t you such a dream in blue?” Tenderly, she caressed the dog’s ears and head before moving on to Mona’s chest, patting it, and triggering something in Roman that he had no business allowing to become a thought. Advancing toward the door to unlock it, he stopped before reaching the first doorstep.

  Was Aden’s mother coming in with them? If not, Roman knew that a meeting here, alone with a minor child, was not going to work.

  Turning around and toward Aden, he asked, “You ever been to Jerry’s High Five?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Let’s get something at Jerry’s before school lets out.” He looked at Ms. Leitner, further explaining, “It’s a diner that’s a couple of blocks from here, up on Broad.”

  The boy shrugged, but his mother appeared relieved. New town, new people of all varieties, and she, as a mother, was aware that child molestation could occur most anywhere.

  “You’ve got money,” she said to Aden, and he nodded. “Three-fifteen then?” she asked Roman. “I need to pick up my daughter from school at three.”

  “Sounds good,” he answered.

  He began walking off, with Mona and Aden quickly catching up, and Aden said, “You don’t leave her outside.”

  “No,” Roman answered, aware that Aden’s mother had gotten back in her vehicle and was starting it up again. “Mona’s welcome inside wherever she goes—she’s a certified companion dog.”

  “Cool,” the kid muttered, walking abreast with Roman. Mona made a quick detour to squat and empty her bladder on a frozen patch of grass, before friskily catching up with the boy and her owner.

  *****

  Jerry’s was a dive on the main drag that catered to kids’ abominable food habits, serving burgers, foot long hotdogs, chicken wings and pizza by the slice. At a few minutes after two o’clock, the lunch crowd was gone and, as Roman indicated, things wouldn’t start hopping again until high schoolers’ final bell rang at 3:20. Malcolm Lundry, who now owned the business, called out a hearty greeting to Roman and Mona as he and Aden took seats in the deserted eating area. The place hadn’t changed in over forty years, still seedy, hopelessly dated in a hip sort of way, but the food and shakes were hard to beat. Mona laid down close to Aden’s chair.

  “She…uh must like me,” Aden said as he watched Mona settle down, unaware that the dog was sensing Aden’s anxiety.

  Roman smiled and said, “She definitely does. So you’ve really not been here yet?”

  Before Aden could answer, Malcolm yelled out, “What’ll it be, guys?”

  In a low voice, Roman said to Aden, “The pizza’s left over from lunch, and so are the chicken wings. The hotdogs and burgers are fresh-cooked.”

  “Hotdog,” Aden quickly said. “Just with mustard.” Then he looked at all of the condiments that were on the table, seeing a squirt bottle of mustard. “And a Coke.”

  “Two dogs,” Roman said to Malcolm. “One with grilled onions, one plain, a diet soda and a regular cola.”

  “You bet. How ‘bout somethin’ for Mona?”

  “Mona’s fasting, Mal.”

  Chuckles from Malcolm Lundry ensued before he said, “That’ll be the day!”

  The boy tried to smile, but didn’t quite get it out and went back to looking down at Mona. He kept his padded jacket on and zipped, even though Roman had removed his. Roman noticed something different about Aden, finally realizing that the boy had shed some hair since that morning. His hair was now shorter, just below his ears, the locks curly and thick like Roman’s own hair, although Roman’s had turned silver, obliterating the dark.

  He kept a complacent look on his face and smiled a bit as he said, “How do you like living in Maine?”

  Aden quickly muttered, “Okay.”

  Under one side of the table, Roman stretched out his long legs, and before he could reply, Malcolm brought the sodas to the table and said, “How’s the ol’ ankle doin,’ Doc?”

  How many times since he’d broken his ankle six months before had Roman been in Jerry’s? He didn’t think he’d been in at all during that time. Yet, one of the many inescapable things about living in a small town was the fact that everybody knew everything
important that there was to know about everybody else’s physical maladies.

  “Fine,” Roman deceptively replied.

  “Glad to hear it,” Malcolm announced. “Dogs’ll be ready when they’re good and hot.” He chuckled at his own comedic endeavor, eliciting a briefer version from Roman.

  When they were alone again, Roman remarked, “Moving from a big city like Seattle to a small town in Maine has to bring on some culture shock.”

  The kid deliberately began shaking one of his legs underneath the table, an indication that he was eager to get the meeting over with. Roman might have seen the briefest of nods, so he segued to another topic.

  “So, you’ve got a sister?”

  “Molly,” the boy said. “She’s nine.”

  “Old enough to be a little pain in the behind—on occasion?”

  The kid actually flashed a brief grin before acknowledging, “Once in a while.”

  “So, I’ll start over and ask, “Tell me some things you don’t like about living here in Maine?”

  Irritated by the question, the boy mumbled something under his breath and looked down at Mona again. She was on alert, further raising her head when Roman said, “I know I’m old, and a big bruiser, and I’m not always the smartest person in the room, but I was listening and I didn’t get what you said.”

  The boy, obviously irritated now, bluntly stated, “I said: it’s cold as shit here.”

  “Day after endless day,” Roman droned in agreement.

  The briefest of movement toward a grin surfaced.

  “Colder than a witch’s tit,” Roman added. Receiving a small glimmer from the boy’s eyes, he began his abbreviated repertoire of colder than jokes. “Colder than a polar bear’s toenails. It’s so cold, that your shadow freezes on the sidewalk…you have to open the refrigerator to heat the house... the Statue of Liberty hides the torch under her dress…people try to get a fever to get warm…squirrels buy Sterno to keep warm…the thing rattling around in your shoe is your toe…”