Tires squealed on pavement and thunder growled close at hand. Black clouds darkened the end of the street.

A little silver car and a battered pickup truck. Tears streaming down her face. His eyes made bleary with alcohol and broken promises. Green light, red light…feet heavy on the gas…bitter words like ashes on the wind…

Shadows rolled over the houses and wind clattered the leaves. The temperature plummeted as lightning forked the sky.

Oh God, what have I done?

A dog barked and a screen door slammed. John shivered as the sounds splintered the eerie calm of the approaching storm.

Kate…

John turned and limped slowly back to the house. He reached the steps as the first raindrops spattered the ground. Windows rattled and shingles rumbled as the tempo increased. Gusting wind lifted the heavy droplets and flung them hard against the side of the house.

John walked back out from under the arch. Rain instantly soaked his hair and ran in rivulets beneath his collar and down his back. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. The water pooled on his clamped eyelids and in the palms of his outstretched hands.

Why?

The wind chased a cloud of sodden leaves and grit through the arch. Water weighted his coat and puddled in his shoes. Driving blasts snapped his pant legs and chilled his skin. John’s fingers clenched and fell to his sides, quivering. The rain ceased abruptly and the air sighed to stillness. He dropped his head and opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture.

Why show me what I cannot change?

A shaft of sunlight splashed across the wet pavement. John raised a hand against the glare and looked out across the north lawn. Limbs and heavy pine boughs stood in stark relief against the boiling black of the retreating storm cloud. Branches studded with buds glowed with the sudden kiss of light, freshened, energized—reborn.

“Kate, I’m so sorry,” John whispered. He turned, stumbling slightly, and made his way back to the steps. Why now? He sat down hard, folded his arms across his knees and rested his head in the crook. Why ever?

Click, click, click and the odor of damp fur tainted the air. Wet warmth touched his fingers and cool enamel slid over the tips.

John sighed raggedly and looked up.

Mystic’s cool, gray eyes studied his face. Her gaze did not waver as she eased down into a crouch.

Words formed and died in the back of John’s dry mouth. He swallowed hard and reached out to rest a hand in the thick fur behind her ears.

***”The woman sat at her kitchen table. Sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains and touched her wan face. Her fingers nervously twined a dishtowel into a sodden ball as she stared hard at the phone sitting on the placemat. The ring made her jump and bite her lip. Once, twice, and she snatched it up with a sharp gasp. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Williams, we have a kidney for Randy. He’s going into surgery right now.”….

A man in a crisp white lab coat and gray scrubs walked into the waiting room and knelt before a set of chairs. The occupants, an old woman and a young one, stared expectantly. “The skin grafts look really good, Mrs. Bourgeois,” the man said to the elder. He turned and offered a reassuring smile to the younger, who was crying silently. “The burns were severe but the donor was young and healthy. A perfect match. With the right medication and a little luck, your husband will survive.”…

“Mary, look at the geese!”

The middle-aged woman clutched her husband’s hand and stared upwards. Neat, gray Vs threaded the sky and the air was alive with the harsh calls of Canadian and Snow fowl. “I’ve never seen them before,” she breathed. “I can see them now!” She briefly closed her eyes and touched the sensitive lids. “Oh God what a precious gift.”…***

John dug his fingers into the damp fur. Precious gifts. A harsh sob choked free. Kate, do you know what you did? Mystic lifted her long nose and touched John’s cheek. Her narrow tongue licked at the salty tears and one paw rested on his thigh. What could you have done if I had not driven you away?

Life for many or life for one? What choice is that?

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, I want nothing.”…”I just want her to know.”

John slammed the door of his jeep and shoved the keys in his pocket. He had lied to Jason. More than anything he wanted to take it all back. He wanted blissful oblivion instead of the harsh realities of Jason’s life and Kate’s death. The decision was never his to make. The arrogant ignorance inherent in all men had fostered otherwise. Fate brought the stinging slap of lives lost and gained—but little else.

He walked around the corner of the house and into the garden. The landscaper had been by two days before. He had begun uncovering the beds and clearing the winter debris caught in the hedges. It was too early to plant, too cold even for the tentative shoots of crocuses to liven the black earth. John eyes skimmed over the bare branches of the lilac bushes and the empty trellis. He blew a shaky sigh and followed the path to the bench that was nestled beneath the thick boughs of an aging pine.

What is the point of all of this?

John propped his cane against the arm of the bench and sat down. The peeling wood creaked as he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Am I just too dense to see or is this some cosmic joke that everyone else enjoys but I fail to comprehend?

The dry snap of twigs and the soft rustle of rotted leaves announced her arrival. John did not bother to open his eyes. His fingers stretched out to touch the soft fur made warm by the pale sunlight.

***”Jason, are you okay?” Erin asked.

Jason glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes seeking and finding the loan figure still standing beneath the tree. “Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“How’s John…Johnny?” she amended hastily.

Jason smiled and looked back to his wife. “He knew.”

“What?”

He closed the distance between them and touched her shoulder. “He saw the accident.”

Erin shivered. “Oh God.”

“Yeah.”

She looked past him. “Should we call someone? Stay a little longer?”

Jason squeezed her shoulder and shook his head. “No.” His voice dipped to a whisper as he pulled her close. “This is something he’s going to have to get through on his own. We’ve done as much as anyone can.”***

John sighed bitterly and sat forward. He watched through lowered lashes as the dog slid beneath his outstretched hand and came to sit in front of him. “I’m not that strong,” he murmured, wincing at the strain in his voice. “Where did everyone get the idea that I can handle this?”

Mystic tilted her head. Sunlight glinted off the peppered muzzle and caught a spark in her upturned eye.

“Bruce, Walt, Gene, hell even Sarah think I’m some sort of superman. Why?”

She blinked at John’s angry hiss and lowered her nose to nuzzle his limp fingers.

***”You have a beautiful baby girl!” the doctor exclaimed.

Jason bent and kissed Erin’s damp cheek. “You did it, babe!”

“We did it,” she corrected breathlessly.

“Group effort,” the doctor agreed. “Jason, would you like to cut the cord?”

He exchanged an eager smile with Erin and moved to the foot of the bed.

“Do you have a name?”

“Yes,” Erin said. “Kate.”***

John stroked the soft fur between the dog’s ears. He had learned not to question the origin of Mystic’s visions. The range and variety were too improbable for even his warped brain to process. “So I should be grateful for small miracles?” A happy life where once there was nothing? Or was it just another sham? Thin, pitted and frail, awash in false hope? John shook his head at the cynical musing. “ Now what?”

Mystic nudged his hand. Her eyes slitted with pleasure as he scratched around her pointed ears and beneath her bristly chin.

“What if I can’t?” John licked his lips and stared out across the patchy garden. His hand stilled and the dog leaned against his leg. “What if I’m not meant for this at all?”

He looked down, startled anew by Mystic’s cool scrutiny. “I should just accept it?” The dog’s tail thumped heavily on the ground and a wan smile lifted John’s lips. I never asked for this, I never wanted it. How do I accept it? Where the hell do I go from here? John dug his hand into the thick ruff and leaned back against the bench. A day without rain, just one, is that so much to ask?

*THE*END*