Love Gone to the Dogs (2 page)

The sound of feet running upstairs drew her attention. Her exchange with Shane O'Grady awakened the neighbors, and her family as well. She turned her accusatory glare on her dog that sat at her feet wagging his tail while he patiently waited for his breakfast. "I should give you half rations, you Benedict Arnold."

"Mom! Mom, Joey won't come out of the bathroom, and I've got to go bad!"

She walked to the bottom of the stairs and shouted to her ten-year-old son, "Then come down here and use this one."

"Oh, I forgot we have more than one bathroom now." Sam thundered down the steps as if he were leading a herd of stampeding elephants, and disappeared into her bedroom.

The sound of Arnold's tail striking the hardwood floor brought her attention back to him. The dog had moved to sit at her feet in the entrance hallway, making sure she didn't forget he existed, and was hungry. She felt Arnold's big, brown eyes boring into her as though he would blow away if he didn't get his meal quickly.

"Okay, I'll feed you, but you'd better shape up. Wasn't it bad enough that the mailman refused to deliver the mail at our last place? Now you've decided to anger a higher authority," Leah muttered as she walked back into the kitchen. "And you sure didn't waste any time doing it."

She spooned canned dog food into Arnold's red bowl, then backed away as the beagle launched himself at the dish. Timing him, she would have been amazed if the animal had even tasted what he had eaten. He had his meal bolted down in less than two minutes, a new record. Arnold had undoubtedly sensed her less than enthusiastic mood toward him, Leah thought as she began to prepare breakfast for her family.

The rest of the Taylor clan appeared in the kitchen within fifteen minutes, in various stages of dress. Sam had on his tan shorts and a Just Do It Nike T-shirt, which summed up her son's motto in life rather nicely. She tousled his sandy hair, wishing she could give him a hug and a kiss, but he had recently informed her that stuff like that was for babies, not someone of his age.

Her youngest, Joey, came into the room a few minutes behind Sam. Joey held one sneaker, while the other was on his foot His hair was even messier than hers, and his shirt was buttoned wrong. He at least righted his glasses as he scanned the room. She knew her six-year-old could dress himself. The problem, however, was that he didn't care what he looked like. His mind was on greater things, like why birds could fly and he couldn't, or why ice floated and he sank to the bottom of the pool. And, much to her dismay, if he had any say in the way the world worked he intended to change those two things, and soon.

"Where's Gramps?" Leah asked, as she flipped the French toast over on the griddle.

"He's coming. At least I heard him in his room bumping into a chair and then swearing—"

"Sam! Never mind. I don't need you to repeat what your great-grandfather said." Leah looked pointedly at Joey, just in case her eldest son hadn't gotten the hint not to repeat such language in front of his little brother.

"That's okay, Mom. I heard Gramps say son of—"

"Joey! You wouldn't want me to resort to washing your mouth out with soap."

"You wouldn't. Your beliefs about child raising don't condone that kind of treatment"

Leah blinked, trying to adjust to Joey's language. Having a genius for a son was extremely hard. She had a difficult time keeping one step ahead of him, especially when he was already becoming knowledgeable in areas like quantum mechanics that she hadn't even known existed until recently.

Her head began to throb with tension. No one should have to begin her day as she had. She knew she would have to find a way to apologize to Shane O'Grady without him suspecting the truth—that Arnold had done everything he was accused of doing.

Her grandfather took that moment to enter the kitchen, causing her head to pound even more as she glanced back at him shuffling to the coffeepot. She knew where her youngest got his brains. Harold Trenton Smith was an inventor extraordinaire, and the reason they had been practically thrown out of the last town they had lived in—well, not thrown out but asked to leave even if it was couched in polite words like the "grass is greener across the country," and "middle America is so much better to raise children than the West Coast."

"You look like h--Hades, girl." Her grandfather poured coffee into a large mug and shuffled to the oak table in front of the bay window.

"Gee, thanks. That's what I like to hear first thing in the morning." She suddenly remembered the stunned expression on Shane O'Grady's face when his gaze had connected with hers. Any more of this and she would develop a complex.

"Leah, you know I've always called it like it is."

Unfortunately, Leah almost said out loud. She stacked the French toast on a plate and placed it in the middle of the table. She didn't have to tell her sons to come and get it. They were diving into the food almost as quickly as Arnold had.

Luckily they left her one piece, which she speared and plopped onto her plate. She took her time eating, savoring every bite, even though it was only French toast. That was her preferred way of going through life. Someone had once told Leah that she knew how to make the most of small pleasures, and she supposed that was true. But lately she spent most of her time on the run nonetheless, with next to no time to relish or savor anything, much less breathe.

"Are we finally through putting this place together?"

Her grandfather's gruff question brought her back to the reality of her situation. "Have you looked in the living room recently? We still have half the boxes to unpack."

"Why bother? We'll just be moving a year or so down the road."

"And whose fault is that?" Leah hadn't intended her voice to sharpen, but her temper was short after meeting her new neighbor, the town mayor.

"I only blew up one house."

"And the town declared you a public menace."

"I tried to tell them it was an experiment that had gone awry, and that I knew what I had done wrong and could change it the next time."

"That was what frightened them—when you said the next time. You were just lucky you didn't kill yourself, or anyone else."

"I know what I'm doing, girl. I'm seventy-five, and I've been experimenting all my life."

"You must have one powerful guardian angel."

He smiled, a twinkle in his blue gaze. "Yes, I do. You."

Leah rolled her eyes heavenward. "I am not your guardian angel."

"You took me in when the rest of the family wanted to put me in a nursing home. You saved my bony ass, and you darn well kept the wolves at bay."

Closing her eyes, she took several deep breaths. Her grandfather's language had improved over the four years he had been living with them, but it was still a long way from G-rated. Patience, she told herself for the millionth time.

"No one else in the family understands me, except you. Leah, you're a regular saint."

"No, I'm not. Your money allowed Sam, Joey, and me to have a roof over our heads right after my divorce. We helped each other." She took her last sip of coffee. "Don't forget your medicine, which reminds me that we need to find a doctor."

Everyone at the table screwed their faces into a frown. "A doctor. The only good one is a—"

"Gramps! Please, the children," Leah said, rising to take her dishes over to the sink.

She heard him mutter something under his breath, and knew she didn't want to know what he had said. He had had more than his fill of doctors poking and prodding him in the past few years. His diabetes was a curse he had learned to live with, if grudgingly. It certainly hadn't been a good enough reason to put him in a nursing home, as far as Leah was concerned.

Her grandfather placed his plate in the sink. "Well, today I'm working in the garage. I think it will make an excellent lab. It's not even attached to the house, so you have nothing to worry about."

"That's supposed to comfort me?" Leah clenched her teeth and inhaled deeply. "Please be careful. The last time the neighborhood had to be evacuated because of the smell."

"I know what I did wrong in that incident, too. I always learn from my mistakes. Trust me, it won't happen again." He started for the back door, whistling, a spring to his step.

"Mom, do we have to help with the unpacking today?" Joey asked, following his great-grandfather's departure with longing.

"What do you want to do?"

"Gramps needs me. I'm his assistant."

"What's he working on now?" If it sounded remotely dangerous, she wouldn't let her youngest get within ten feet of the garage. Which meant she would probably have to spend most of the day standing guard over the entrance into her grandfather's new lab instead of unpacking.

"Nothing hazardous, I promise. He's working on a machine to move objects from one place to another, sorta like in Star Trek. I've been reading up on it, and I think he's on to something."

"Are there chemicals involved?" she asked, remembering that awful smell that had led to the last town "encouraging" them to move on. People could make it very difficult for a family they didn't want living in their town. And Leah didn't want to be any place she wasn't wanted.

Joey shook his head. "I think Gramps learned his lesson. I turned him on to computers, and he can't get enough of them. Most of his work will be done with computers."

"I wondered about all that equipment delivered yesterday."

"State-of-the-art," Joey assured her as he turned to head for the back door. "He's finally decided to join the twenty first century."

"I'll help you, Mom," Sam said as he cleared the table of all the rest of the dishes.

"I know you've been dying to meet some of the kids on the block. Aren't they playing a baseball game down at the park this morning?"

Sam nodded, his eyes bright with eagerness.

"I can do the rest by myself, honey. You need to make some friends. School will be starting in a few weeks."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." She watched as her eldest raced from the kitchen with all the speed and agility he was known for. Sam was her sports fanatic.

Her two children were so different it had been rumored that Leah had adopted them—and raised them on her own. But their father was out there somewhere, having abandoned them all four years ago for a younger woman. What was so funny about the situation, now that Leah could laugh about it, was that she was only thirty years old herself. But Mary Ann, the bimbo, had been eighteen, and easily manipulated. And of course, the added attraction for Leah's ex-husband was that if he left his family there would be no children to take care of, especially one as smart as Joey. That had been all the encouragement Roger had needed to get out and never look back.

After quickly cleaning the kitchen Leah put Arnold outside in the backyard, where he wouldn't be underfoot or get into trouble. She then made her way toward the living room and the stack of boxes still to be emptied. Looking at the evidence of her mobile existence of the past four years, she longed for a permanent home. She wanted roots, a place she knew would be her very own, year after year.

With a sigh, she started with the box nearest to her, pushing the longing to the deep recesses of her mind where she had learned to store secret wishes. She and Sam already had a bet on how long they would last in Shady Oaks. Between Joey and Gramps, with occasional assistance from Arnold, they had never lived more than a year in any one town.

Maybe her grandfather was right Scanning the boxes, Leah considered storing them in the basement It sure would save her time later when they would have to move. Perhaps they should live in a big city where people didn't care what their neighbors did. She shuddered, thinking about that possibility. Was there a small town that could accept an eccentric old man who lived on the edge of sanity, and a small six-year-old genius who knew more than most adults?

"Mom! Mom! Come quick! I think Gramps' eyebrows and hair are gone.

Chapter Two

"This is just a temporary setback." Leah's grandfather sat on an examination table holding a handkerchief to his head, where most of his thinning hair was singed, if not charred.

"Temporary! A setback! You could have gotten yourself killed." How many times had she said that? Leah paced the small patient room of a clinic not three blocks away from her house.

"Joey and I can fix this."

"No, that won't happen." She halted her pacing and whirled to face her grandfather, her fists resting on her hips. "You told me it was safe. Joey is not going to help you. I've had it."

"Leah, I couldn't help it if that pipe was leaking and I was standing in water when I juiced up the machine."

Leah threw up her arms. "You should have known better. Look at you." She waved her hands. "You never think. You theorize."

Harold Trenton Smith had started to answer his granddaughter when the door opened and a stylish woman in her sixties entered. She wore a white coat, and a stethoscope hung around her neck. Her smile was kind, the look in her dark eyes reassuring.

"Hello. I'm Dr. O'Grady."

"O'Grady?" Leah asked, tensing at the mention of the name.