Finding Atticus

By Laurie Gifford Adams

Thirteen year old Jamie Reston is still recovering from the death of her father when another loss threatens her. Atticus, a champion show Golden Retriever, saved her from the darkest days after her fathers death when he helped her find happiness again. But now, because he is the most valuable dog she owns, Atticus owner is forced to sell him in order to save her kennel from bankruptcy.

For Jamie, the unthinkable is for Atticus to be snatched from her life. Desperate to not lose him, Jamie does the unthinkable. During the night, she sneaks Atticus from his kennel and hides him in a shack deep in the woods so he will miss the flight to take him to his new owner.

To Jamies surprise, the whole town gets involved in the search for Atticus, including a boy shes had a crush on all year. Her simple plan spirals out of control and becomes a complicated mess. Before she has a chance to decide how to handle the situation, Atticus life is threatened.

Now Jamie fears she may not only lose him, but that Atticus will die because of her foolish decision to take matters into her own hands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Apr 24, 2009
• ISBN: 9781440137808

Laurie Gifford Adams

Laurie Gifford Adams is a Professional Writing Tutor at Finger Lakes Community College. She has been writing stories since she was first able to put a pencil to paper. She was raised on a dairy farm near Keuka Lake in New York. She resides in the beautiful Finger Lakes of New York with her husband, a dog and a horse.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Sunday

Good News, Bad News

Jamie Reston perched on the fifth row of the metal bleachers, her fingers, arms and legs crossed like a human pretzel. She would have crossed her eyes, too, just for the extra ounce of good luck, but then she wouldn’t have been able to watch Atticus trot around the show ring.

The Golden Retriever stood as still as a statue in the conformation ring, his ears alert to his owner and handler, Charlotte Taylor, at his side. The female judge and a steward huddled at the side of the oval ring. Their matching brown jackets blended to make them look like one large person with two heads. Around the exterior of the ring, spectators murmured as they waited for the results of the judging for the final class. Some were dog owners, others handlers, but the majority were just dog lovers. Jamie fell into the latter two categories and wished she were older than thirteen so she could be in the ring with Atticus.

Waiting for the judge’s decision, she was sure her heart would launch out of her chest. Atticus had to win the Best of Breed class. That way he’d earn the points for this show and then be a contender for the Best of Breed class in the regional specialty show in Norristown in July. If he won there, any puppies he sired would bring in enough money to help pay the outstanding debts, and Charlotte would be able to keep CharTay Kennels open.

The judge, a well-known breeder of Golden Retrievers, stepped away from the steward and circled the line of ten dogs one more time. The crowd hushed. The knots Jamie tied in her body matched the knots in her stomach. But she wouldn’t uncross anything for fear it would jinx Atticus’ chances.

The woman watched the dogs gait around the ring one more time. Then her finger bobbed toward the finalists as they went around, passing over those who were out of the competition. When a dog was eliminated, the owner gave its leash a light tug and led it out of the ring. Some handlers were clearly disappointed but others revealed no emotion.

Jamie held her breath as the judge neared Atticus and Charlotte. Goose bumps erupted on her warm skin. How could Charlotte look so calm, as if it didn’t matter if Atticus won or lost? Jamie was sure if she weren’t sitting that her own knees would have buckled by now.

The air in her lungs was like fire in her chest. Charlotte had promised Jamie she could handle Atticus in a show later in the summer after she’d had more practice. With her nerves tingling just watching, she couldn’t imagine standing so straight and still under that kind of pressure. What would happen if she were showing and the judge passed over her and Atticus? Would she burst into tears? Melt into a puddle in the middle of the ring? Beg to be reconsidered? Not only would those reactions be unacceptable in the ring, they would be more humiliating than being eliminated. But she hated losing. She was a straight A student in school because of her competitive nature.

Just when she thought the fire in her lungs would sear through her chest, the judge pointed toward Atticus as the fourth finalist. Jamie wanted to shout with joy, but just being a finalist wasn’t enough. Atticus had to win. She kept her fingers crossed and clapped with the rest of the crowd.

A middle-aged woman sitting on the bleachers next to Jamie leaned over and spoke in a hushed tone. You’re still all crossed up. I guess your dog made the cut?

Yes. The word came out on a whoosh of air.

Which one?

Jamie pointed. The one handled by the tall woman with the long braid. That’s Atticus. Wanting to sound professional, she quickly added, That’s his call name, of course. His registered name is CharTay’s Sweet Justice Finch.

The woman smiled. "Ah, as in Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird?"

Nodding, Jamie glanced back toward the ring, afraid she’d miss something. Yes, it’s my godmother’s favorite novel. That’s her out there. She’s Atticus’ owner and handler. Until later in the summer when I take over, Jamie wanted to add.

The judge put the dogs in a preliminary preferential order for awarding ribbons. Jamie’s heart sank as the woman placed Atticus second in line.

Stack your dogs, the judge ordered.

The handlers moved to the front of their animals and commanded them to stand in their conformation form. The judge stepped from dog to dog, carefully smoothing her hand over their bodies to determine which dog best met the standards of a Golden Retriever. After scrutinizing each one, she indicated to the handlers to take their dogs around the ring once more.

Jamie’s knees knocked together, and the knuckles on her crossed fingers grew even whiter. This was Atticus’ last chance to move into first place. She whispered, "Come on, boy. You have to do it. Please."

She closed her eyes for just a moment and prayed. Atticus had to win. That’s what Charlotte had told her on the way to the competition. Someone groaned loudly near her. Her eyes flew open in time to see the judge’s first pick begin to pace. His paws came high off the ground almost as if he were dancing. Then, as he rounded the corner of the ring, the dog’s back end swayed to one side. With that one mistake, the judge pointed to Atticus and moved him into the first place slot.

Jamie’s pulse pounded in her ears as her heart hammered. The steward approached the judge and handed her the long, purple and gold rosette ribbon to be awarded to the winner of Best of Breed.

The judge fingered the ribbon while the dogs and handlers continued to circle. For dramatic effect, I’m sure, Jamie thought. Everyone knew the judge could still change her mind. Just relieve me of this agony. Her hands shook as she shoved them under her chin. CharTay kennels had to be saved, and this was their chance. What would happen to all the dogs she’d come to love if the kennel closed? Every muscle in her body tensed. That couldn’t happen. Finally, just when Jamie thought she would burst from the pressure, the judged approached Charlotte and Atticus and extended the Best of Breed ribbon.

The breath Jamie had been holding blasted out. It was followed by a whoop so unladylike that an elderly woman in front of her tossed her plastic cup of pink lemonade in the air. The ice and liquid flew onto the neck of a woman sitting in front of her. That woman yelped and leaped from her seat, flailing her hands as the ice cubes slipped inside the back of her shirt.

Jamie gasped and yanked crumpled, unused napkins from her pocket. Dividing her attention between the ring and the drenched lady two rows down, she leaned past the woman who spilled the drink and dabbed at the other lady’s soaked clothing. Sorry! I’m so sorry. The woman who spilled the drink pulled the scarf from her neck and helped.

When Charlotte and Atticus began the victory walk around the ring, Jamie dropped the napkins. She shoved her index fingers into her mouth, formed a V with them and created a shrill whistle that caused the people around her to clap their hands over their ears and cringe. It was a whistle she’d learned from her father when she was eleven. It was one of the many things he’d taught her before he died.

Atticus’ ears shot up in their classic bent over style, and his head swiveled in her direction. The bright lights above glinted off his chocolate brown eyes, making him appear even more alert. Charlotte immediately corrected him with a light tug on the leash. He snapped back into professional form, only his ears twitching with the continued whistle.

Bleary-eyed, Jamie was barely aware of the judge determining the Best of the Opposite Sex winner between the two female dogs. The spectators applauded politely while Jamie continued her piercing whistle. She wanted to be sure Atticus knew she was there. Charlotte was his owner and handler in the show ring, but outside the ring Jamie and Atticus were inseparable. They’d been that way since Jamie started working at CharTay Kennels for her eighth grade service project a year before. While many of her classmates struggled to choose a project by the October first deadline, Jamie’s decision was made before she left seventh grade. This special Golden Retriever was her life.

As Charlotte and Atticus exited the ring, Jamie jumped from the fourth tier of the bleachers. She landed just inches from Atticus’ paws, dropped to her knees and flung her arms around his neck. He, in return, nuzzled her hair.

I knew you’d do it, Atty! She framed his muzzle with her hands and cupped his ears between her fingers. You’re my boy. She ruffled his ears, as proud as if he were her dog. She’d had a puppy once, until the family discovered her younger sister, Haley, was very allergic to anything with fur. Now, Atticus, and the other dogs at the kennel, filled her need to be around animals. She enjoyed all of them, but none had a lock on her heart like Atticus. Sometimes she thought they could read each others’ minds. She planted a kiss on Atticus’ ear then stood.

A smile lit Charlotte’s face. Way to go, kid. She slapped Jamie’s palm in a high five. I never could have gotten him ready by myself. You’re partly responsible for this win.

Happiness bubbled inside Jamie like the warm fizz of a soda pop. Atticus knew he had to win if there’s any chance of saving CharTay Kennels. He must have heard you tell me that, Charlotte.

Charlotte’s smile drooped. Considering that the money tree I planted isn’t producing anything but regular old leaves, I guess Atticus’ future puppies are my only hope. A tight laugh followed her weak joke, and Jamie realized Charlotte was more worried about CharTay Kennel’s future than she’d let on. He’s a real show stealer, Charlotte added. Let’s get him ready for his mug shots.

When Jamie turned to lead the way to the grooming area, she collided with something as solid as a wall. A broad-chested man blocked her way. The logo on his dark blue polo shirt was level with her eyes. The shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders, causing the muscles underneath to make him look even bigger.

Excuse me. She glanced up. The man’s gaze was fixed on Charlotte. Jamie felt invisible. She glanced back at Charlotte, whose eyes looked dark and menacing. Without acknowledging the man, Charlotte snapped Atticus’ leash and pivoted away.

The stranger brushed past Jamie like she was nothing more than an irritating fly. Charlotte, I need to talk with you.

Charlotte continued her march through the crowd. The man caught up to her and grasped her coat sleeve at the elbow. Charlotte’s shoulders squared and lifted before she whirled around. Her lips were pulled into a tight, angry line and her eyes narrowed. Jamie rarely saw her godmother angry, but it was clear there was a storm brewing now.

What do you want? Charlotte hissed. Even the voice didn’t match the Charlotte Jamie knew.

The conversations of people in the crowd buzzed like bees, but Jamie still heard the man’s response.

You know exactly what I want. His deep voice sent a shiver down Jamie’s spine.

Atticus’ tail drooped so low it was tucked between his legs. His attention darted between his beloved owner and the intimidating man.

We have nothing to talk about, Mike. If you’ll recall, I wasn’t interested in your offer or the terms.

I have a new offer, he countered.

Charlotte arched a thin eyebrow. Why? Because Atticus won again? I’m not interested. She looked past the man to Jamie. Come on, Jamie. We need to get Atticus ready for the photographer.

Before Jamie could take a step, the man growled, I’m prepared to double, maybe even triple, my original offer.

Charlotte gasped.

Don’t make the same mistake twice, he added.

There was an awkward silence while Charlotte glared. What was this guy talking about? And why did he have this effect on her godmother? Jamie wondered. Finally, without shifting her attention from the man, Charlotte held the leash out toward Jamie.

Please take Atticus and start grooming him. I’ll be right there.

Jamie looked uncertainly at Charlotte and then the stranger. But –

Go ahead, Charlotte said more sharply.

Jamie obeyed and took the leash from Charlotte’s outstretched hand.

Will you be okay? she whispered as she stepped past Charlotte.

Charlotte nodded. Wait for me at the grooming area. I’m sure this won’t take long.

Despite her desire to stay, Jamie led Atticus through the crowd and away from Charlotte. She glanced back and saw the pair moving to a more isolated area. An uncomfortable sensation rolled like a wave in her stomach. Something was very wrong.

Charlotte, her mom’s best friend, was the happiest, most easy-going person Jamie had ever met. This change in demeanor, especially when Charlotte should be walking on air because of the win, didn’t feel right. But Jamie was just a kid. What did she really understand about the grown up world?

By the time she and Atticus made their way through the crowd and into the back area where the grooming tables and crates were, Jamie’s hands were shaking. She hadn’t shaken like this since the day her father died last fall. Like that day, she had no control over what was happening, and it frightened her.

Used to the routine, Atticus leaped onto the grooming table. Jamie opened the equipment trunk and pulled out an over-sized metal comb and a pin brush with spiky, needle-like bristles. She closed the trunk lid and stepped next to Atticus to begin grooming. After each stroke, she looked up, hoping to see Charlotte.

Atticus, too, seemed uneasy. Instead of standing quietly, as he usually did, his head swung back and forth and dipped down and up as he tried to see around the pedestrians blocking his view. Several of the spectators who had seen Atticus win stopped to admire him. Jamie welcomed the distraction and tamped down the nausea that threatened to slither up her throat like a poisonous snake.

He’s very handsome, one man commented.

A little girl, who looked about five, squeezed past the adults’ legs and reached up toward Atticus’ nose.

Her mother snatched her tiny hand then picked her up. Don’t touch him. He might bite.

Oh, no, Atticus is used to people, Jamie reassured her. I take him to Shady Nook every Tuesday to visit with the residents at the assisted living center and nursing home. He’s a trained therapy dog. Jamie placed her hand on Atticus’ head just above his eyebrows and looked at the little girl. He loves to be stroked with one finger right here. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have wanted someone to pet him because it would tousle his fur, but nothing about this moment seemed normal.

She can stand on this trunk to reach, Jamie offered.

The girl’s mother hesitated for a moment then set her daughter down. The child tentatively reached out and ran her finger down Atticus’ silky gold head and across his muzzle. Atticus pressed his nose against the child’s wrist to encourage her to pet him more. The little girl giggled and stepped closer. Her mother snapped a photo and murmured something about the perfect shot for the Christmas card.

Just then Charlotte worked her way through the crowd. Jamie looked up and saw her swipe the back of her hand across her eyes. Was she crying?

Well, I’m sorry to break up this party, she said, but we have a date with the photographer. Although it was obvious Charlotte was trying to be cheerful, her voice was raspy, cementing Jamie’s assessment. A tingle crawled up her spine.

The people who had stopped to visit left. Jamie ran the comb over Atticus’ fur to smooth the area the little girl had messed up then dropped it back into the box.

She studied Charlotte. Is everything okay?

Charlotte shrugged. Depends on your perspective. For a moment she hesitated, her gaze resting on Atticus. There was no mistaking the pain in her expression. There’s good news and there’s bad news.

The bad news could wait. Jamie always preferred to go for the positive first.

So, what’s the good news?

Charlotte shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her maroon show jacket. The good news is I have a way to save CharTay Kennels.

Jamie’s heart flipped with excitement and she whooped, thrusting her fist in the air. Alright! So it won’t matter if Atticus wins next month?

Charlotte scrunched up her nose and pinched the skin at the bridge between her thumb and forefinger. Nope.

Jamie couldn’t imagine anything being bad if Charlotte could save the kennel. So, what’s the bad news?

Tears glistened in Charlotte’s eyes. I’ve decided to sell Atticus.

CHAPTER TWO

Tuesday

The Decision

Jamie couldn’t concentrate on the French sentences Madame Pelletier wrote on the white board. She loved French, but it was Charlotte’s statement, in plain English, that rolled around in her brain like a pebble caught in the tide. And it grated against a raw spot on her nerves the same way.

I’ve decided to sell Atticus.

It didn’t matter that Charlotte insisted it was the hardest decision she’d ever made. To Jamie, it happened in an instant. Charlotte and Atticus walked out of the show ring. A strange man approached them. Then, boom, less than ten minutes later the crushing announcement was dropped like a bomb.

And D-day was Saturday. In four days, Atticus would be gone, sold to some guy from Illinois who had a reputation of keeping his dogs locked in crates. She’d never see him again.

How could Charlotte do it? Sure, she’d explained it was ‘a business decision’, but how could love be business? Charlotte loved Atticus as much as Jamie did, didn’t she? Well, Jamie conceded, maybe almost as much. But this was like selling a family member.

"Aimee."

Jamie’s head snapped toward the front when she heard Madame Pelletier speak her French name.

"Oui, Madame?" Had she been asked a question? Had she said something out loud?

"Comment dites-vous ‘I like strawberries on my ice cream’ en français?’"

The heat in her cheeks fired up like a furnace. How do I say I like strawberries on my ice cream in French? Jamie mumbled under her breath as she shifted her thoughts back to class. Um, j’aime mes fraises sur la crème glacée.

Bien, Aimee. Madame Pelletier smiled as if to say,