If Caleb had recognized Taylor, and this got back to him, it would be game over. Forget the fact that she had results from a public DNA database;thiswas all the proof anyone would need.
Suddenly, Taylor wasn’t hungry at all anymore.
5
The sun was beginningto set, filling the living room with a golden hue, as a cool breeze drifted in through the back screen door. Caleb leaned back into the couch, feeling the weight of his day melt away as he stared at his 85” TV, but only saw the mystery woman’s face playing on a constant loop in his mind’s eye. He knew that his borderline obsession with her was unhealthy, and he tried to push thoughts of her aside, but they kept sneaking back in like an itch he couldn't quite scratch. Minnie, his sixty-pound, eight-month-old St. Bernard, lay sprawled across his lap, jowls fluttering each time she exhaled in a gentle snore as he stroked her head.
Caleb kept replaying what he could have done differently so that he would not have let today’s opportunity slip through his fingers. He spent the first half an hour at the post-church potluck asking around to see if anyone knew who his mystery woman was. He’d even asked Betsy Sanders if she knew who his mystery woman was, but she didn’t even remember what part of the service he was referring to. And yes, at this point, he had adopted the possessive pronoun when referring to the mystery woman. She was no longer some mystery woman, or the mysterywoman, or a woman; she washismystery woman. Not to anyone else, just when he was thinking of her.
Unfortunately, the adaptation of his personalization did not bring him any closer to solving the mystery of her identity. His fishing expedition had been skunked. Everyone he spoke to had no idea who he was talking about. It boggled Caleb’s mind how this woman, this beautiful, magnetic, angelic being who changed the atmosphere of every room she entered, could possibly go unnoticed. Every time he saw her, he was unable to speak, to breathe, to think…and other people didn’t even notice she existed?
Was this a Bruce WillisSixth Sensesituation? Or Colby Smulders inSafe Haven? Was she actually a ghost?
Caleb was mulling over that ridiculous thought as the credits began to roll on Minnie’s favorite movie,St. Elmo’s Fire. It may sound silly to claim that a dog had a favorite movie, but Minnie Mouse absolutely did. Not only did she have a favorite movie, she also had a favorite actor. Rob Lowe. She was madly in love with Rob Lowe. She preferredThe OutsidersandSt. Elmo’s FireRob Lowe. ButThe West WingandParks and RecreationRob Lowe were close runners-up. Caleb stumbled upon her affinity for the ’80s heartthrob accidentally while she was recuperating after he found her nearly frozen to death on the side of the road.
Minnie was a rescue dog. St. Bernards were synonymous with rescue dogs; they were known forbeingsearch and rescue dogs notneedingto be rescued. But in Minnie’s case, that was exactly what happened. Eight months earlier, Caleb was on his morning run, and for some reason, he took a route he never had before or since. He turned down a dirt path he’d never even noticed, which was strange in and of itself because growing up in Hope Falls, the surrounding forest was his backyard. The path took him through a heavily wooded area, and he nearly ran right past her. But something caught his eye; it was bright red. Helooked down and saw what he thought was a Minnie Mouse doll. But on closer inspection, it was a puppy wrapped in a red and white polka dot blanket. Minnie was barely breathing when he found her. He picked her up, and her body was limp. He told her to hang on and promised her that if she did, he would take care of her. Caleb had always been naturally athletic. When he was a kid, he had asthma, and he ran to try and make his lungs stronger. He can’t say if it worked or if he just grew out of it, but by the time he got to high school, it had improved, and he ran track. He still held records that hadn’t been beaten to this day, but his legs never moved as fast as they did that morning to get Minnie to the vet.
Caleb wasn’t ruling out divine intervention because Doc Gilbert said that if he’d been even fifteen minutes later, Minnie wouldn’t have made it. It turned out she was from an unethical breeder, a puppy mill, who sold St. Bernards for profit. Minnie was the runt of the litter, and she was born with epilepsy and an enlarged heart, so they just discarded her on the side of the road. Doc said that given the condition she was in and her state of dehydration, she had to have been out in the elements for at least a few days, so it was a miracle she hadn’t been eaten by a larger predator.
After spending two nights at the vet, Caleb was allowed to take Minnie home. She had a seizure that first night, and it terrified him so much he wouldn’t let her out of his sight for about a month. He wouldn’t even be in a separate room. He bought luxury, orthopedic, oversized dog beds that he could fit on with her. He slept beside her, took her in the bathroom with him, brought her to church with him, to the hospital with him when one of the church members got into a car accident, to the grocery store, on errands…everywhere.
During that first week, when she was recovering, they watched a lot of television, and one of the shows was the HuludocumentaryBratsabout the Brat Pack. From the moment Rob Lowe came on screen, Minnie was captivated. She would stare up at the television like he was Elvis, and she was a teen in the mid-50s. Caleb thought he was imagining it at first, but he tested his theory, and sure enough, it didn’t matter which show, movie, podcast, documentary, or interview; if she could hear or see Rob Lowe, she was twitterpated. AndSt. Elmo’s Firewas her favorite, which clearly meant she had a thing for bad boys.
Caleb’s phone buzzed, and he grabbed it off the end table. When he looked at the screen, he wanted to hit his head against the wall. It was Kimberly, Claudia Benson’s niece. Instead of going through Judy, she’d stepped up her game and gotten his personal phone number.
Kimberly:Figured I’d cut out the middleman, skip the I’ll-have-your-people-talk-to-my-people, and go right to the source. I make a mean chicken parmesan, and I was wondering if you’re free one night this week.
As much as Caleb appreciated a woman who didn’t play games and was direct, it did put him in an uncomfortable position. He didn’t want anyone to bust out the world’s tiniest violin for him. There were much worse problems in the world than having a slew of attractive women pursuing him. He knew that the misguided matchmakers had the best intentions, even if to him the aunts, sisters, grandmothers, friends, college roommates, co-workers, and cousins behaved more like a Brothers Grimm version of Cupid hunting him in the woods with their poisoned arrows pointed in his direction.
Caleb didn’t want to be rude, but he wasn’t interested in dating Kimberly. Or Darcy. Or Brenda. Or any of the other women he’d been set up with or who had asked him out. He knew that it was counterintuitive to stop dating when what he wanted most in life was to be married and have a family. And just this morning, after he’d thought the woman on the bridgewas his mystery woman, he thought he needed to get back out there, but that was before she came and sat in his back pew. That had to be a sign.
Not wanting to lead Kimberly on, he texted her back, thanking her for the invitation but letting her know he was taking a break from dating. When he set the phone down, he scratched Minnie behind the ears, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're the only girl I need."
Minnie’s jowls flapped as she exhaled a snore. He reached for the remote to put on ESPN when his phone lit up and he saw Judy calling him, most likely to warn him she’d passed along his personal cell to Kimberly.
“I know. It’s okay,” he answered, immediately letting her off the hook for giving out his number.
“Oh, good.” She sighed audibly with relief. “So, you’re on your way?”
On my way?Wait. Maybe he didn’t know.
“On my way?” he repeated.
“What did you think I was calling you about?” She lowered her voice, which told him she must be somewhere in public, and she didn’t want people to overhear her.
“Giving Claudia Benson’s niece my phone number. Why are you calling me?”
“You’re late.”
“Late?”
“Arthur’s ninetieth?—”
“Birthday,” he said at the same time she did.
“—birthday.”
How could he have forgotten Arthur Santino’s birthday party?
