the mama dog or the other pups have turned on him.”
As if on cue, the chocolate-colored dog began to whine from the next kennel.
“Should we put him back with his mama?” Carlo asked.
“I don’t know. Let me text the people who normally take care of them,” Fern said. “And meanwhile, I’ll get the others fed.”
“I’ll stay and watch over him,” Mercedes offered.
“Okay, that will be great. I think Carlo will stay with you and help. Right?” Fern gave him a stern, meaningful stare.
“Um...okay.” Man, this diminutive, shy librarian had a spine of steel. There was no disagreeing with her.
This time, Fern didn’t linger with each dog, but moved rapidly from kennel to kennel, letting dogs out into the runs if they’d go, pouring food from large canisters. Carlo marveled at how hard she was capable of working, and he handled the dogs two or three kennels to either side of the problem dogs, trying to lighten her load while also keeping an eye on Mercedes, making sure she wasn’t seeing something upsetting.
When Mercedes cried out, he was glad he’d stuck close. He rushed back over in time to see one of the other puppies jump on top of the spotted pup and nip at it. “He’s hurting the little puppy,” Mercedes cried. “Stop him!”
Carlo didn’t know if it was normal puppy play or something more aggressive, but he could see that the little guy wasn’t in any shape to play rough. “Step back, and I’ll pull him out,” he told Mercedes, and then he went in and picked up the puppy.
“Oh, no, oh, no, is he okay?”
“I don’t know.” He needed to keep Mercedes calm as well as help the pup. Which meant keeping her busy. “Can you find a towel we can wrap him in?”
Fern was all the way down at the other end of the kennel, so Carlo got Mercedes to help him wrap the puppy in the towel she’d found. “We’ll be really careful,” he said, watching Mercedes. His daughter. Wow.
“Mama Fern said kids can only touch a dog with two fingers, so you better hold him,” Mercedes told Carlo gravely.
So he sat cross-legged on the floor and held the dog, and Mercedes petted the pup with two fingers, and somehow she ended up sitting in his lap, leaning her head against his chest and chattering every thought that came into her four-year-old brain.
Just keep breathing, Carlo told himself.
No matter what happened, he’d have these moments with his daughter to cherish forever. He could enjoy the fruity smell of her hair and the pink of her cheeks and the confiding, sweet tone of her voice. He could look at her dark eyes and realize that those came from Kath, but her strong chin probably came from his side of the family. He got a sudden memory of his sister, Angelica, when she was small, and realized that Mercedes had her flat cheekbones and cute nose.
Fern came up behind them, a heavy bag of dog food in her arms, breathing hard. “Oh, man,” she said, “you took him out. Is he okay?”
“I think he’s going to be.” Carlo looked up and tried to communicate with his eyes that he had no idea, but was putting a positive spin on things for Mercedes’s sake. He felt like a cad for just sitting here while she worked, but on the other hand, he could clearly see that Mercedes needed nurturing. So maybe this was how you managed it with two parents—you dumped gender stereotypes and played whichever role needed playing at the time.
Fern was studying her phone. “They said to take him out if he’s being bullied, that sometimes the rest of the litter turns on a puppy.”
The sad mama dog came up to the front of the cage and sniffed and whined her agitation.
“Do you think she knows it’s hers?” Angelica asked.
“Sure looks that way. What else did your friends say?”
“Oh, they’re not my friends, they’re just people who help out here. I don’t...” She trailed off, waved a hand, leaving Carlo curious about what she’d been about to say. “Anyway, they said maybe we should take the mama and the pup up to the house, and see if she could still feed him some. Apparently, they just moved him over a day or two ago. She might still have her milk.”
“We can have them at the house?” Mercedes jumped out of Carlo’s lap and threw her arms around Fern. “I always wanted a puppy! What’s his name, Mama Fern?”
“I don’t think he has one yet.” Fern stroked Mercedes’s hair and there was such happiness and tenderness in her face that Carlo had to look away. “We’ll think of something to call him, at least for now.”
“His name is Spots,” Mercedes announced. “’Cause he has spots!”
“Makes sense to me.” Carlo got to his feet, bringing the pup with him. “If you carry the little one and I carry the mama...”
“Can you? She’s huge.”
He gave her a look and then opened the cage. “I can, unless she wants to walk. I don’t know how her health is.”
“And you hafta carry me,” Mercedes reminded him.
“That’s right.” He patted her messy hair as warmth spread through his chest.
So they made their way back to the house in stages. Carlo carried the big dog while Mercedes and Fern worked in the kennel and watched the puppy. Then he went back to carry Mercedes while Fern brought the puppy and a bag of supplies.
By the time they got settled in the house again, he was sweating and dizzy, but he kept it together and brought in a bunch of wood and built a fire. Made sure the mama and puppy were settled, along with Fern and Mercedes. And then he collapsed onto the sofa.
He must have dozed off or even passed out, because Fern touched him and he jerked and then relaxed. Something in her touch was soothing.
“You made yourself sick again, didn’t you?” she scolded. “I heated up more soup. Sit up and eat it.”
Carlo couldn’t let her do this. Couldn’t let himself accept the caretaking, especially when he knew that his only shot at Mercedes was being superman here. If he couldn’t be superman, if he had to be weak, then he needed to hide it away. Along with his strange desire to reach up and touch Fern’s cheek. “I’ll just sleep it off in the den,” he growled, and slunk away from the vulnerability and the weakness and the worry.
* * *
Fern watched him go, and the sense of rejection was enormous. Just like her to mess things up with Carlo. Of course he didn’t want to spend time around her. She’d come on too strong with the nurturing, but what was she supposed to do? She was more used to being around kids and animals than adults. Kids and animals loved being taken care of.
A big manly man like Carlo was different, she supposed, and it was just her own awkwardness that had made her think she could take care of him, or that he’d want her to.
“Mama? What are we gonna do now?”
The plaintive voice pulled Fern out of her funk. It didn’t matter what some strange man thought of her. She squatted down beside Mercedes, who was sitting cross-legged petting the little puppy. “You’re doing just the right thing. I’m proud of you for being so gentle. You just keep doing that while I text the caretakers and find out what to do next.”
Although Fern could see now that Brownie’s ribs showed, her demeanor was much happier. She wasn’t whining anymore, just licking her puppy as if to make up for the time apart.
Minutes later Fern’s phone buzzed and she read the instructions, still sitting with her arm around Mercedes. “Okay, they say we’re supposed to get the mama dog something to eat. Even if she’s nursing, we should put some soft food nearby so she can eat whenever she needs to and get her milk back up.”
“What’s the puppy doing?”