4th of July

Chapter 78

I AWOKE TO THE jarring sound of the bedside phone. I grabbed it on the second ring, noticing that Joe was gone and that there was a note on the chair where his clothes had been.

“Joe?”

“It’s Yuki, Lindsay. Did I wake you?”

“No, I’m up,” I lied.

We talked for five minutes at Yuki’s trademark warp speed, and after we hung up, there was no falling back to sleep. I read Joe’s sweet good-bye note, then I pulled on some sweats, put a leash on Martha, and together we jogged to the beach.

A cleansing breeze whipped in off the bay as Martha and I headed north. We hadn’t gotten very far when I heard someone calling my name. A small figure up ahead came running toward me.

“Lindseee, Lindseee!”

“Allison! Hey, girl.”

The dark-eyed little girl hugged me hard around the waist, then dropped to the sand to embrace Martha.

“Ali, you’re not here alone?”

“We’re having an outing,” she said, pointing to a clump of people and umbrellas a ways up the beach. As we got closer, I heard kids singing “Yolee-yolee-yolee,” the theme song from Survivor, and I saw Carolee coming toward me.

We exchanged hugs, and then Carolee introduced me to “her” kids.

“What kind of mutt is that?” an eleven- or twelve-year-old with a sandy mop of Rasta hair asked me.

“She’s no mutt. Sweet Martha is a border collie.”

“She doesn’t look like Lassie,” said a little girl with strawberry curls and a healing black eye.

“Nope. Border collies are a different breed. They come from England and Scotland, and they have a very serious job,” I said. “They herd sheep and cattle.”

I had their attention now, and Martha looked up at me as if she knew that I was talking about her.

“Border collies have to learn commands from their owners, of course, but they’re very smart dogs who not only love to work, they feel that the animals in the herd are theirs—and that they are responsible for them.”

“Do the commands! Show how she does it, Lindsay,” Ali begged me. I grinned at her.

“Who wants to be a sheep?” I asked.

A lot of the kids snickered, but four of them, including Ali, volunteered. I told the “sheep” to scatter and run down the beach and then I unleashed Martha.

“Martha. Walk up,” I called to her, and she ran toward the little group of five. They squealed and tried to evade her, but they couldn’t outdo Martha. She was fast and agile, and with her head down, eyes focused on them, she barked at their heels, and the kids kept together and streamed forward in pretty tight formation.

“Come-bye,” I shouted, and Martha herded the kids clockwise toward the bay. “Away,” I called out, and Martha looped them back around toward the cliff, the children giggling gleefully.

“That’ll do,” I called out, and my little black-and-white doggy kept the kids in a clump by running circles around their legs, shepherding them, breathless and giddy, back to the blankets.

“Stand, Martha,” I said. “Good job. Excellent, sweetie.”

Martha barked in self-congratulation beside me. The kids clapped and whistled, and Carolee handed out cups of orange juice and toasted us. When the attention had gone off me and Martha, I huddled with Carolee and told her about my conversation with Yuki.

“I need a favor,” I said.

“Anything,” said Carolee Brown. And then she felt compelled to say, “Lindsay, you would be a great mom.”