Whiskey and Country

On the southern side was a large den with wrap-around floor-to-ceiling windows hosting a piano and a small bar.

The place wasn’t just farmhouse chic, it was inviting and could only be described as a home. A true home. Not a place you only passed by. But a place you grew old in.

Once I sanded and repainted the cabinets and hardwood floors, changed the countertops, and applied a fresh coat of paint on the walls, this place would sell in no time.

I climbed the staircase which was in the same condition as the floors. Upstairs, the house required a bit more care and love. The master bedroom wallpaper was démodé and peeling in the corners. The bathroom begged for a complete makeover. Outdated, awful green color fixtures, leaking pipes, chipped paint. Even the tiled floor had to be removed, leveled, and redone. The broken window I saw earlier belonged to one of the bedrooms. The entire second floor screamed for a fresh coat of paint and some drywall patching. Nothing I couldn’t deal with.

This new project excited me. If I was being honest, even more than my new job. The joy of this newfound freedom seeped its magic in me. And I loved the feel of it.

Was it wrong to feel so happy? When someone I knew and loved had just died? What was I doing here? Caught in a six-month contract. Why did I agree to that? My breath got caught in my lungs, and suddenly the earth seemed to be spinning too fast around its axis. I was stuck to this place. What if I wanted to leave this town? Continue my journey elsewhere? Discover new places? Being hooked to one place felt wrong.

My thoughts bumped into the bones of my skull, my worries clamping around my heart.

The sound of a tinkling bell startled me and put a stop to my panicked state. I turned around and came face to face with an old bloodhound. He stared at me for a long second before moving closer, butting my hand, asking to be petted.

I squatted before him, a new wave of calm invading my senses. “Hey buddy. What’s your name?” I rubbed him behind the ears with one hand and reached for the tag with the other. Buddy. “Oh, I guessed it right then. You live here?”

Buddy made some sort of yapping sound and waggled his tail.

“You like that, don’t ya? You thirsty?”

Rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, I found a stainless-steel bowl, filled it with fresh water, and placed it on the floor. After the dog gulped half the bowl, I moved toward the door.

“Come on. Let’s get my stuff from the truck.”

The dog watched over me for the next hour as I carried boxes inside and stacked them in the corner of one of the bedrooms on the second floor.

I went back to my truck to pick up the last few things when a woman’s voice with a southern drawl sounded behind me.

“Hey there, are you the new tenant?” I wiped the sweat on my forehead with the hem of my T-shirt and turned around.

“Yep. That would be me.” In her late thirties, with brown hair and hazel eyes, dressed in a long navy dress with buttons on the front, she offered me a huge smile.

“I’m Greta. The neighbor.”

I held out a hand. “Nick. Nice to meet you.”

“Seems like this old fellow has adopted you.”

I nodded, patting his head. “Buddy and I are now best friends.”

My own words settled inside me. Appeasing the panic that had risen earlier. Best friends. Had Derek sent this dog to watch over me? Because he knew I would need someone to rely on in a town I knew nothing about. And no one.

I refrained from smiling. Because even if it made no sense, I now believed Buddy appearing on my doorstep was bound to happen. That it wasn’t just a coincidence.

“Then you must be a nice guy because Buddy isn’t the most social dog. He’s half-blind, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he was half-deaf too. Let’s say his hearing has seen better days.”

Buddy sat next to me, his back firm and chin high. Yeah, no coincidence.

I grinned. “He looks like a youngster to me. I’m sure you’ve mistaken him for another dog.”

The woman chuckled and pushed her hair behind her shoulder.

“When did you get here?”

“An hour ago. I just finished unloading my truck, thanks to Buddy here.”

She smiled again. “Well, I’m sure you could use a home-cooked meal after that. How about you meet us for dinner later?” Why were all the people here so welcoming? No way a neighbor would have invited a stranger to dinner back in Chicago. Our doors had three locks, and we kept mostly to ourselves. All the time.

“You sure?”

Greta bobbed her head. “Come knocking at six. Brett, my husband, and Chaz, my son, will be ecstatic to have some male company over.” She beckoned Buddy to follow her, but he kept his stance next to me, eyeing me sideways to make sure I wasn’t throwing him out. She sighed, a small grin stretching her lips. “Well, just bring the dog with you when you come over.”

“I will.”

Greta crossed a line of trees. From where I stood, I could see hints of a white house on the other side. I leaned forward to talk to my new friend. “We gotta make ourselves presentable, Buddy.”

I finished settling myself in. The house was fully furnished, so I only had my clothes to hang in the closet, my toiletry to put in the bathroom, and my tools in the garage. Everything else was already there.

With a bottle of beer in hand, I sat on an Adirondack chair on the back deck, the late afternoon sun warming my skin. The view of the mountains from here was spectacular. It seemed like the world had no end. As if I could see miles ahead.

At this exact moment, I didn’t miss the city. The noises. The smog. The parking hassles. And the concrete buildings.

Green Mountain was peaceful.

Buddy curled under the chair, his snores the only sound breaking the silence.

“You know,” I told him, “before you, I had a best friend. His name was Derek. He passed away not so long ago. I’m here because of him. If he’s watching us from somewhere up there, from his cloud, and now I’m pretty sure he is”—I raised my beer over my head—“I think he’d like to hang out with us. He loved animals but never got a chance to have one of his own. I would have got him a dog if he ever went into remission.” Unshed tears constricted my throat. Swallowing hard, I had to force myself to breathe. “It never happened. One day he was there and the next, gone. You would have liked him. A lot. I’m glad we found each other. Let me tell you a secret. I think he put us on each other’s road. Anyway, I could use the company. If you agree to become my friend.”

A growl left the dog’s mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Funny, because I have no idea how this friendship is supposed to go. You’re not a big talker, huh? Guess I’ll do all the talking then. Perhaps you could come to visit every day or so. Get to know each other better. Except for Uncle Mike—and truthfully, I don’t know him either—I know nobody in this town.”

My phone vibrated.

“It was nice talking to you, Buddy. At least you’re a great listener,” I said, picking it up. Tuck. He never called me as often as he did since Derek died. We usually messaged each other more. “Hey man. How is it going?” I asked, pushing the speaker button, with the device on the armrest and my legs stretched before me.

“Good. I was about to ask you the same thing. Did you make it to Green Mountain?”

“Yep. Met Uncle Mike. Somehow, he remembered me. All set. Even got a new friend.”

“Already?”

A lopsided smile peeked out. “Yeah, his name is Buddy.”

“Buddy? What kind of name is that?”

“Someone with four legs and shiny fur.”

“You already replaced me. Man, that was fast.”