Deep Shade

By Deborah LeDrew

Mikaela O’Hara appears to be the desire of every man and the envy of every woman. But within her lies a deep, dark secret which haunts every breath of her. When her aunt dies mysteriously, she realizes that things are not as they seemed to be. When her father sends her flowers to her hospital bed, her nightmares escalate and begin reveal a truth that she is not prepared to accept. Every aspect of her existence is challenged, from her faith to her own identity. But within her cloud of darkness, she finds a light that proves that love, trust, and loyalty do exist. As fragile as she seems, her own strength is pronounced to her. When she can accept that who she is, is far more important than what she is, the seeds of hope begin to sprout through the ashes of despair.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496939159

Deborah LeDrew

Deborah LeDrew is an author and philanthropist. She has a charity organization called Footsteps to Freedom in which she assists the war victims in South Sudan and the orphans of Uganda. She lives in Canada with her family.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Mikaela sat on a stool behind the cash register at her pet shop. She leaned back against the wall, scanning the store. She had spent the past two hours cleaning every cage, from the hamsters to the birds to the three-foot iguana to the mixed-breed puppies in the playpen beside her. The store looked clean with its white walls and floors—almost too clean for a store filled with animals. The air had the soft scent of lemons. She leaned down and lifted the furry chin of her two-hundred-pound Newfoundland dog. Well, Sailor, she said, smiling, all we need now are some customers. He looked at her lovingly with his enormous face, his eyes and lips drooping down as far as his skin’s elasticity would allow. He licked her hand with his wet, warm tongue. Then he returned his chin to her feet, where he would remain loyal and content beyond any human capacity, until she moved again.

Mikaela looked out the window that was the whole front wall of her store. Although it was nine o’clock in the morning, there was no sun to be found. The skies were dark and gray, and cold rain was pouring. It felt more like mid-November than early September. Crashing thunder followed by brief flashes of light startled the tiny puppies in the playpen. They jumped from their sleep, crying loudly, scurrying in every direction, looking for a place to hide.

She looked at the little puppies and smiled. What’s the matter, puppies? It’s okay. Nothing’s going to hurt you. As the thunder ceased, the rain continued, pacifying the puppies. Five of the six returned to their snug huddle in the corner of the playpen. They appeared to be a multi-colored ball of fluff, indistinguishable from one another—except one. The sixth puppy sat in the center of the playpen whining softly and gazing at Mikaela, pleading to hear her soft, sweet voice again.

Mikaela slid her feet from under Sailor’s chin and walked over to the relentless puppy. You’re such a silly little puppy. Do you know that? She lifted him up and held him in the air, tipping him from side to side. Yes you are, yes you are, yes you are, she said in her soothing voice. The puppy wagged his tail frantically, and she nuzzled him in against her large breasts.

The bell on the door rang. She turned to see a tall man fully dressed in a suit and tie and shiny black shoes. It seemed strange to her that, with all the rain, the man’s suit was without a raindrop. His eyes were a gray-blue, and they smiled as he walked toward her. His hair was dark blonde and slicked back. The scent of his cologne was overwhelming. Mikaela took a step backward.

What I wouldn’t do to be that puppy right now, he said with a straight face. His eyelids fell dreamily as he stared at her breasts.

She turned around and placed the puppy in the heap of fur in the playpen. Clenching her teeth, she was prepared to turn around and say, Go back to the farm where you can roll around and be the pig that you are. But no, that would not be very business-like of her. And she wanted his money in her till. She wanted him to leave and tell all of his friends about the good value, courtesy, and cleanliness of Pet Palace. Then his friends and his friends’ friends would come in and make purchases. Her till would become so full she would not be able to close it. Then she could pay the rent for the store and the rent for her place, and all would be fine.

She felt his eyes thoroughly checking her out from behind. As she turned around, he appeared pleased to return his invasive eyes to the front of her. How may I help you today, sir? She smiled.

I’m here to buy some dog food—whatever you’ve got. One forty-pound bag.

What kind of dog is it?

It’s for my brother’s dogs. He’s got a dogsled team. They’re like huskies—or something. They’re strong, fast dogs, but they’re bitchy as hell. They won’t let me anywhere near them. My brother was in here a couple of days ago. Tall, skinny guy. Those dogs eat—let me tell ya! He was looking at her from head to toe, undressing her with his eyes as he spoke.

She walked over to a stack of forty-pound bags of high-energy dog food. She lifted a bag, brought it over to the till, and laid it on the counter. Walking behind the counter, she said, Will that be all?

He passed her the money, and she went to hand him his change, but he held his hand up. No, keep it. He picked up the bag and tossed it over his left shoulder. Placing his left hand on top of the bag to hold it, he reached into his pants pocket with his right hand.

She felt her arms begin to shake. She folded them tightly under her breasts, attempting to conceal her fear.

He leaned forward over the counter as if to tell her something he wanted no one else to hear. But there were no other people in the store. His right hand remained in his pants pocket.

Sailor had made his way back to Mikaela’s feet. The only indication that there was life within that massive heap of wavy, black fur was the occasional snore emerging from his huge nostrils. He was a dog that would save Mikaela’s life despite his own, not only Mikaela’s but her offender’s too. Anyone in need, whether he be dying, drowning, or bleeding to death, could count on Sailor to rescue him. But not a moment before.

This time when he spoke to her, he looked directly into her ice-blue eyes. Her eyes, elegantly embraced by her long, black eyelashes, welled with tears of terror. She gazed back into his stone-cold eyes that had no more depth than the cavity that contained them. She knew not to blink. She knew she must not release the tears that would roll down her cheeks, crying out, I’m helpless, I’m horrified, I’m at your mercy. She could remember her mother’s words as if she were right there whispering in her ear. Mikaela, I cannot tell you to never be afraid. Sometimes fear creeps through the cracks of the heaviest suits of armor. But never allow your enemy to see your fear. If he sees your fear, you’ll lose your power to him. You’ll be at the mercy of his evil.

Mikaela had seen enough evil in her twenty-eight years to last a lifetime and then some. She would not blink. She would not blink. She would not blink.

I have seen many, many women in my life, the overly dressed, overly groomed, overly scented man said. But never, ever have I seen a woman as astonishingly beautiful and attractive as you.

Thank you, sir, she said politely, without a break in her voice. Have a nice day.

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and placed a white business card face down on the counter.

If you ever want to make some real money—money in a day that would take you a month or two to make here—call me. You are definitely denying your calling, ignoring God’s given gifts, wasting your days away sucking fish shit out of aquariums.

He ran his fingers through his seemingly wet but probably gelled hair. With that, he turned and walked out the door.

Mikaela stood frozen and then slid her feet out from under Sailor’s chin and walked over to the door. She placed a sign on the door that read, Back in Five Minutes. She locked the door and quickly walked into the back room to the toilet. She vomited, over and over and over. She couldn’t stop until there was nothing left in her. Her long, silky, blonde hair hung in the toilet water along with everything that had emerged from the pit of her stomach and the depths of her soul. Now, she allowed her tears to be released, and they flowed continuously like a dripping faucet. The five minutes turned into thirty minutes. She had to compose herself. She had a business to run. She cleaned her hair and her face in the sink, refusing to look at her reflection in the mirror. She took a small paper cup from its holder, filled it with tap water, and quickly drank it. She went back into the store, unlocked the front door, and removed the sign.

Mikaela opened the door and poked her head out to get a breath of fresh air. She looked up and down the walkway to see if any customers had been waiting. There was no sign of waiting customers. And there was no sign of a stranger carrying a large bag of dog food. She looked for a car that might belong to him. She assumed he must’ve parked his car in front of the store since he wasn’t wet when he came in, but she didn’t recall seeing a car there. Perhaps, she thought, she hadn’t even looked out the window while he was there.

The rain felt soothing on her hot cheeks, but it burned her bloodshot eyes. She closed the door and walked over to the counter. The white business card remained face down where the man had placed it.

Mikaela flipped the card over. It had two full-bodied silhouettes of naked women, printed in black. The card read: Puss in Boots Nightclub. Owner: Brian Downey. Live Entertainment 7 Days/Week. It included his business and fax numbers.

She crouched down and patted Sailor on the head. He did come from a farm, she said to Sailor. Then she crumpled the business card, threw it in the garbage, and gathered the equipment she needed to vacuum the aquariums. She had already done it once that day. However, Mikaela took pride in her work, so she did it again.

Just as she finished, she heard the bell of the door ring once again. She turned to see a little man of only about five feet tall. His hair, cut in a boyish fashion, looked as though he had groomed it by spitting into his hand and then running his palm through his hair. His teeth awkwardly protruded from his mouth as he smiled. He wore a silver medallion, hanging by a red-white-and-blue ribbon around his neck. It faced backward, keeping its purpose a secret and a mystery. His striped shirt was three times his size and bunched out the front of the open zipper of his blue jeans.

Mikaela knew it had to be noon, since Larry visited her every single day at exactly twelve o’clock. He was slow in his thinking yet quick-witted. He was simple yet happy and had a child-like zest for each new day. With him, he would always bring an empty pill bottle to be filled with enough birdseed to feed his pet budgie for one day. He would also bring a fat meatball for Sailor, wrapped in foil and stuck in his pocket. But best of all, without compromise, Larry always brought his high spirits. Mikaela came to depend upon Larry to arrive and brighten up her day. It meant more to her than the sale of a pill bottle full of birdseed, or any amount of birdseed for that matter. To her, Larry was not a substandard contribution to society’s overpopulation. Larry was Mikaela’s one true friend.

Sailor arose from his perpetual rest to greet Larry with his wagging tail.

You know, Larry, you’re the only person Sailor bothers to get up for, Mikaela said, smiling.

I know, he said, nodding and chuckling. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the large meatball wrapped in foil. Here ya go, big boy. He passed Sailor the treat and patted him on the head. Sailor took the meatball gently and returned to his place of rest behind the counter.

Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Larry sang.

It’s not your birthday today, is it? Mikaela asked.

The Big Five O, he grinned proudly. Other than the slight gray hair above his ears, he didn’t look a day over fourteen.

Happy birthday! she said, and she went over and gave him a tight hug.

Yup. And I was thinkin’, since it’s my birthday, and Hazel, my budgie, is gettin’ a little lonely, I’m gonna buy myself a friend for Hazel. Everyone needs a friend, ya know—like I got you Mick, and you got me.

Well, being that it’s your fiftieth birthday, I’ll let you have your pick of a budgie out of that cage. Mikaela pointed to a cage on the far wall.

Gee, Mick, I can’t take one from ya. You got a business ta run. You got bills like anyone else. I’m just happy that buyin’ a pet from you, I know it’s gonna be healthy, not somethin’ that’s gonna die on ya in a couple a days—ya know?

Listen, I can give a friend a gift on his birthday. It’s not every day a person turns fifty. Now come on. Mikaela grabbed his arm, pulling him to the back of the store. Pick one, she said.

Well, I kinda like that gray one, Larry said, pointing.

Mikaela reached into the cage, quickly scooping up the little gray budgie in her hand. She pulled the bird out, put it in a box, closed it up, and walked to the counter. Larry followed her, skipping with excitement as he walked. He took the pill bottle from his pocket, filled it at the bulk bin, and returned to the counter. He slammed the pill bottle down on the counter as if he were making a large purchase. I guess I’ll be buying more a this now. And don’t even try ta give me this seed. I insist on buyin’ it.

That’ll be ten cents, Larry. Mikaela held out her hand, trimmed with her neatly filed fingernails.

Larry placed a quarter in the palm of Mikaela’s hand. Keep the change, Mick, he said.

What are you going to name this little bird? she asked.

Well, I named Hazel after a nut, so I’m gonna keep the theme and name this guy after a nut too. I’m gonna call him Manson—ya know, after Charles Manson. Then there’ll be three nuts in the house. He threw his head back and laughed loudly, enjoying his own humor. Mikaela laughed along with him. Then she covered the box with a towel and wished him a great birthday.

Thanks, Mick. You’re a once-in-a-lifetime friend! Larry said as he walked out of the store and into the rain, with his new pet in hand.

The afternoon slipped by casually with little business. People came in, despite the continuous rain, but mostly just to look.

Just as Mikaela glanced at her watch to check the time of day, the phone rang. Good afternoon, Pet Palace, Mikaela said in her friendly voice.

Guess who? the voice on the other end responded.

Aaron! How are you! There was no mistaking the voice of her only sibling. It had been two weeks since she’d heard from him. For the average brother and sister, this would have been quite fine. But, being twins, they had become virtually inseparable. Since their earliest memories of childhood, they did everything together. They were united in their thinking, their morals, their values, and their interpretations of the world. Their mother always told them they were friends in the heavens even before conception. Hence, they chose one conception, one womb, one birth, so they could be together as two souls connected, brother and sister and friends forever.

Mikaela, can you meet me for dinner? I need to talk to you, Aaron said.

Are you okay? Did something happen? Aaron met his sister for dinner quite often, but never had he needed to talk to her about something he couldn’t just say over the phone. Naturally, she thought the worst. Something had happened to their mother.

Don’t worry. I just need to tell you something. Besides, I haven’t seen you in a while. I just want to touch base, see how you’re doing, Aaron responded.

Can you meet me next door at Chopsticks? I don’t close until nine tonight, and I’m hoping things will pick up, so I don’t want to stray too far from here.

I’ll meet you there in about an hour. How does that sound?

That sounds great. I’ll be looking forward to seeing you then.

Mikaela remained in the store for the next fifty-five minutes before placing a sign on the door and locking up. Mikaela entered Chopsticks and sat in her usual seat. She came in often for a bowl of steamed rice or a tea or just a fortune cookie. A Chinese couple in their late thirties ran the restaurant. They spent as many long hours in their restaurant as Mikaela did in her store. And although they spoke only a little more English than Mikaela spoke Chinese, they enjoyed each other’s company.

Mr. Chan was a thin, tiny man with black hair and a wide smile. He made his own fortune cookies, placing silly fortunes on the small pieces of paper inside. He’d wait, in anticipation, for his customers to finish their meals so he could offer them their choice of a fortune cookie from the wicker basket he kept them in. Then he would stand back with his arms folded and a grin on his face as he observed the reactions of his customers. There were those who enjoyed the humor of his fortune cookies more than his cuisine. Customers would come in and quickly consume their chosen dish. Then they would spend the rest of their visit laughing and comparing the punch lines of their fortune cookies.

Mr. Chan created the humorous words of wisdom. Then his sixteen-year-old daughter, Katie, translated them to English for him.

Mikaela sat, waiting for Aaron to arrive. She wondered what he needed to tell her and thought of all the possibilities. He had told her not to worry. Maybe the news was really good. Maybe it was bad but not tragic. Possibly, her father had been hit by a bus. She shook her head, feeling guilty that warm feelings within her emanated from her ill will.

Boo! Mr. Chan exclaimed, standing over her, smiling.

Mikaela jumped.

A penny for thoughts, Mr. Chan said. Despite his broken English, he could recite every cliché and expression in the English language.

Save your penny today, Mr. Chan. My thoughts are about as gloomy as the rain outside.

After every rain finished, rainbow always appear, Mr. Chan responded.

You should save that one for a fortune cookie. Mikaela smiled.

No. Too serious. Mr. Chan laughed.

The restaurant door opened, and in walked Mikaela’s brother. He stood exactly six feet tall, like their father. Other than height, Aaron inherited no resemblance of their curly, blonde, Irish father. Unlike Mikaela, Aaron bore the image of their mother. He stood proud as the strength of his soul radiated through every cell of his copper-colored skin. His silky hair rested softly upon his broad shoulders, cut in long, feathery layers. His hair was so black that the light’s reflection caused a blue tinge to appear. His cheekbones sat high upon his enchanting face. His large, soft, chocolate-brown eyes reflected his honesty and integrity. Despite Aaron’s running shoes and blue jeans, he was the vision of a classic Native American. He appeared as though he should be wearing the headdress and animal hides of their ancestors. And, other than the name of his father, which he would carry to the stone at his grave, Aaron O’Hara did not appear to have one drop of white blood running through his veins.

Mr. Chan walked over to him, placing his tiny hands around Aaron’s left elbow, and pulled him over to where Mikaela was sitting. Aaron sat at the table across from his sister. Before he had a chance to say hello, Mr. Chan slapped his hands together in a clap and said, The O’Hara twins! as if he were introducing them in a three-ring circus. Can I take order already? Mr. Chan asked.

I’ll have my regular, please, Mr. Chan, Mikaela said.

Before Aaron could pick up his menu, Mr. Chan looked to him to take his order. No hurry. You need more time? Mr. Chan asked.

Oh, no, um, I’ll have Mikaela’s regular also, thank you.

Two Mikaela Special coming right up. Mr. Chan nodded, turned, and walked toward the kitchen. He was wearing black, pleated dress pants and an oversized black T-shirt. As he walked away, Aaron and Mikaela observed the white lettering on the back of Mr. Chan’s shirt. They both laughed.

Made in China, Mikaela read.

He’s quite the character, Aaron remarked, shaking his head in amusement.

Aaron turned back to Mikaela. So, how’s business? How are you? How’s Sailor? Are you still running? Aaron fired a shoal of questions.

I’m doing fine, and Sailor’s doing just great. He couldn’t be better. Business, on the other hand, could be a lot better. I’ve had almost no business, or at best very little business since the beginning of June. Just between us, I don’t really know what I’m going to do. I’m hoping things just slowed down because it was summer. Although, the past two summers, I did really well. I don’t know. As far as the running goes, I run probably more than I ever have before. Sometimes I leave the Jeep at home, and Sailor and I run to work. It clears my mind. It seems to be the only thing that clears my mind.

Sailor runs? Aaron smiled in disbelief.

You’d be surprised. He can really move when he wants to. And how are things going for you?

Things are going well. Aaron nodded. Right now, I’ve got everything running well with the Native Housing and the Native Center. I’m keeping on my toes between the two of them.

Mr. Chan arrived at their table with two bowls of steamed brown rice and two bowls of stir-fried mushrooms. I be right back with herbal tea, he said.

Mr. Chan hurried off to get the tea. Mikaela pulled her bowl of brown rice closer to her. Aaron just looked down at the food in front of him. This is your regular, Mikaela? Aaron asked in disgust.

Mr. Chan came with the two herbal teas and placed them in front of Aaron and Mikaela. He looked at Aaron, slightly insulted, and said, I just let you know, there no pussy in this place. He was clearly pretending to be unaware of the underground language of slang.

I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, Aaron said, embarrassed that Mr. Chan had heard his whisper.

Forgiven. Mr. Chan smiled. Anyway, Mr. Chan think fast-food burgers come from old pony. He patted Aaron’s shoulder and walked away.

Mikaela began eating, thoroughly enjoying her dinner. Aaron sat rolling his mushrooms with his fork. I guess I better just cut to the chase, he said.

Yes, Aaron. You’ve obviously got bad news. You know I’m not made of glass. So, just tell me.

Dad’s sister. Aunt Aileen. She was found dead. Her purse was found beside the Grand River. Her skull was found in the river. This is how I found out. Aaron reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a newspaper clipping. He handed it to Mikaela.

Mikaela pushed her bowl of rice aside and took a quick sip of her herbal tea. She looked at the newspaper clipping and then up at Aaron, with one tear flowing down her cheek. What happened to her? Have you spoken with Dad? Does Mom know? When’s her funeral? Mikaela was overcome with disbelief and confusion.

The article says the police are ruling out foul play. They think she took her own life. Mom knows, but I haven’t spoken with Dad. I don’t know about a funeral. Mom really cared for Aileen, but Mom’s afraid of how Dad may react if she gets in the middle of all of this. Aunt Aileen is Dad’s sister. He’ll be making all of the arrangements.

Aunt Aileen was really good to me when I was young. I haven’t seen her since last Christmas. I just can’t believe she’s gone. And to take her own life? I can’t see her doing that, Mikaela said in a distressed tone.

Aaron patted Mikaela’s hand. Listen, Mikaela, we’ll both miss Aunt Aileen. It’s a very sad thing. But please don’t let yourself become consumed with it. I’m sure Dad will be able to answer all of our questions. Just say a prayer for her and let it go. What’s done is done. We can’t change anything now.

Mikaela nodded in agreement as she squeezed her brother’s hand.

Now, what are we going to do to get your business hopping again? Aaron asked.

I was thinking of having a fundraiser for charity. A barbecue. I could raise money for the animal shelter and draw people to my store at the same time.

That’s a wonderful idea. It’s the best idea I’ve heard all day. Call the radio station to advertise. I’ll call Mom, and we’ll both help. We’ll do it this Saturday.

Mikaela questioned the intensity of Aaron’s enthusiasm. Perhaps, she thought, it was his way of pulling her from the sinking sands with a horse-drawn chariot.

When eggs were smashed against the windows of their souls, Aaron would envision omelets. He could smell them, taste them. He would add the melted butter, herbs, ham, and cheese. He would add some toast and juice and coffee. He would then light the candles on the table of life and serve his creation on a silver platter.

Mikaela, on the other hand, would sit and watch the eggs slide down the windows like a smoker’s hacked-up mucus sliding down the bathroom sink. She’d see the smear of gigantic snails, the menstruation of lonely, miserable chickens. And the hopelessness of the unborn chicks. Chicks that would struggle to chip away at their fragile walls of safety, only to have their tiny wings hacked off, smothered in honey and garlic and sold on a meaningless Wednesday night at a bar full of rowdy, drunken, flag-waving, backstabbing human beings for a mere thirty cents each.

Mikaela was usually able to view life sunny-side up, like her brother. But among the bright and happy times in her life were many roads of darkness. Some she had filed away in the distant corridors of her memory. Other memories, she had nowhere to put. These memories just floated around in a mental abyss, lost to her conscious mind. Occasionally, these memories would singe her soul like a cattle prod, leaving her feeling scrambled, poached, fried within. On the outside, she was a good egg, smooth, fresh, and flawless. But deep within her, she was hardboiled. She was so hardboiled that the yolk of her soul had turned green.

If you’re planning to help me, Aaron, why don’t you raise some money for the Native Center? You could put the money toward a number of things. We could make Native tacos. They’re always a hit.

Yeah, Mikaela, we’ll do that! Mom will really enjoy that as well. Maybe she could sell some of her beadwork, too.

Well, we can’t really have a flea market. Mikaela knew her mother wouldn’t sit in front of her pet store selling her beadwork.

I guess I’m just getting carried away.

Mikaela smiled at Aaron. Feeding off his passion, she felt, in the pit of her stomach, the little butterflies of hope. She glanced at her wristwatch. I guess I should get back to the store.

I’ll get the bill this time, Aaron insisted.

The bill, the bill, the bill, Mr. Chan sang as he eagerly approached their table. He placed the bill face down on the table in front of Aaron.

Mr. Chan looked down at the cold rice, cold mushrooms, and cold tea left on the table. Food not good today, Mikaela? he asked sadly.

It’s the best, Mr. Chan, as always. She smiled, grasping his wrist. We just got a little carried away in conversation.

Oh. Long time no see. Mr. Chan nodded. He placed his hands behind his ears and pretended to magically pull a fortune cookie from each ear. He handed a cookie to each of them.

Crack open, Mr. Chan said, fidgeting like a child needing to urinate.

They broke open their cookies and pulled out the little white papers inside. Mikaela read hers aloud.

Talk with food in mouth. Kills two bird—one stone.

They all laughed.

Mine is the same, Aaron said.

Did you just make these fortunes up? Mikaela asked Mr. Chan.

Yes, he admitted.

Well, next time we’ll have to take your advice. Mikaela smiled. Aaron nodded in agreement.

You go ahead and get back to the store, Mikaela. I’ve got this. I’ll see you on Saturday, Aaron said.

Mikaela thanked Aaron and leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. She then left Chopsticks and walked a few steps in the rain to get back to Pet Palace.

Sailor was asleep inside the store, against the glass door. After unlocking the door, Mikaela pushed it open with her hip, sliding the two-hundred-pound mass of fur across the floor. Sailor rolled onto his side, looking up at Mikaela. He pounded his thick tail on the floor in a pulsating wag.

Hey, buddy! Mikaela said, rubbing his long, floppy ears. I hardly need to lock the door with your body pressed against it.

She pulled an envelope from the mail slot. Sailor followed her behind the counter and rested his head on her feet as she sat on her stool. She opened the long, white envelope to find a bright orange, rectangular paper inside. Notice of Termination, the paper read, in large, bold print.

Mikaela leaned forward on the counter, pressing her face into her hand. I have twenty-one days to pay the hydro for this place. I have less than two weeks to pay both rents. She glanced out the window to see the darkness of night prematurely creeping in. The merciless rain continued to pound fiercely against the large window. She could see the mirror-image reflection of her neon-lighted Pet Palace sign in the wet puddles below the window. She remembered the pride and excitement she felt just over two years ago when the sign was erected. She recalled the energy and sacrifice, hope, and enthusiasm she had invested in order to make everything come together. She had put all of herself—body, mind, and soul—into her dream to enable it to become a reality. She looked out at her forest-green Cherokee she’d paid cash for on the first anniversary of the opening of Pet Palace. It wasn’t a new Jeep, but it was hers. And she took pride in the subtle rewards of her hard work and dedication.

Mikaela stared at the blinding orange reminder she held in her hands. She shook her head, wondering how she was going to honor all of her financial commitments. She had thought about selling her Jeep, but over the past few months, she had collected enough required repairs to outweigh the value of her vehicle.

It was already past closing time. Not one customer had even gazed in the window since she returned from her dinner. Feeling emotionally exhausted and defeated, she did nothing more than turn off the lights and lock the door.

The brief walk to her Jeep left her drenched. She opened the passenger door to allow Sailor’s body to leap up and consume the entire passenger seat.

The visions of her sinking business and her floating aunt, combined with the stench of stale air and wet dog, left Mikaela feeling nauseated. She was consumed in a hypnotic state as she drove home. Her eyes followed the windshield wipers, moving back and forth in front of her. The overcast skies blended with her downcast state of mind, leaving her feeling as competent as a drunk.

By the grace of God, Mikaela arrived in her parking spot in front of her condo. Sailor followed her into her unit, down the hall, and into her bedroom. Without turning on the light, Mikaela placed her keys on her dresser and undressed. She sat on her bed naked, patting her pillows for her flannel nightshirt. She found her nightshirt and slipped it over her head. She sat up in her bed with her arms around her knees. I’m not going to lose my business, she thought to herself. There’s just no way it’s going to happen. I’ll do whatever it takes. She slipped under her sheets and pulled them tightly up under her chin.

Leaving her day behind her, she closed her eyes and surrendered her body, mind, and soul to the mystic world of sleep.

Chapter 2

The following Saturday morning, the bright sunlight shone through Mikaela’s bedroom window. In the stream of light, millions of tiny dust particles floated about in a little dance, mimicking the star-filled sky of nights before. Sailor consumed most of the floor space at the foot of Mikaela’s bed. He would remain there contentedly as long as Mikaela chose to occupy the mattress beneath her and the blankets surrounding her. But today was not the day to pull the blankets over her head and ignore all signs of life beyond the pane of her window. Today, she was counting on the life beyond her window. She was thriving on it.

Mikaela awoke to the refreshing aroma of brewing coffee in the kitchen. She had set her coffee maker for six thirty in the morning. Her coffee maker took on the double duty of awakening her from her sleep and then awakening her from her trance. Mikaela enjoyed her morning coffee like an orgasm. She consumed cup after cup, enjoying every sip until the pot was empty. It was like a purposeless secret she shared with herself since, after seven in the morning, she drank only black, herbal tea.

Mikaela slipped out of bed and pulled a pair of black spandex shorts on under her flannel nightshirt. She slid her feet into her big, furry gorilla slippers and headed for the coffee. Sailor followed her into the kitchen, and she poured herself a large coffee with milk in her huge, white cappuccino-style mug. She walked into her living room and opened her curtains. She then surrendered herself into the corner of her large, old, black sofa.

She had a little walkway made of patio stones from the parking lot to her front door. All of the units in her complex encircled the parking lot. The view from her front window was not a scenic one, especially since the community dumpster stood immediately at the end of her walkway. But she enjoyed looking out, thinking about her day and savoring her coffee.

When she finished her coffee, she checked her watch. It was already seven o’clock. She had planned to run to work this morning and needed an hour to get there. She put her cup in the kitchen sink, let Sailor out into the little fenced-in yard, and made her way into her bathroom to get a shower and get ready for work.

After her shower, she blow-dried her long, blonde hair and put it in a ponytail. She wore her spandex shorts and a white T-shirt for the run. She made her bed and packed shoes and a change of clothes for work in a backpack. She let Sailor in the back door and locked it. Then Sailor followed Mikaela out the front door and waited as she locked that door too. They began their long run to work. Mikaela ran fast, excited about the fundraiser and the chance that today might be a new beginning for her at Pet Palace.

The main road from Mikaela’s condo to Pet Palace was adorned with huge maple trees. The trees had been planted in perfect rows about twelve feet apart, about one hundred years ago. Now, their thick trunks were the base of tall branches and leaves that connected like an umbrella covering the entire street. With autumn in its earliest stages, some leaves were already a bright yellow like the sun shining upon them and a vivid orange like the pumpkins of October. With the leaves blocking the sun, the air was a little cool. But Mikaela’s body heat was as accelerated as her heart rate. The cool air quickly dried the warm sweat that was absorbing into her T-shirt. Mikaela took deep breaths of the fresh, crisp air as she thought about everything and then nothing, and then everything again. As fast as she ran, she envisioned the road continuing on eternally. She felt she could run forever and never tire. There would be nothing ahead of her that was not behind her. There would be nothing behind her that could creep up beside her and kick her feet out from under her.

As Mikaela’s feet swiftly pushed the pavement behind her, her mind slipped into a trance. Despite her state of mind, her body kept moving forward at an even pace, like a car in cruise control. She was oblivious to the cars moving past her in both directions. And she was unaware of the dark, dense clouds rolling in above the blanket of leaves overhead. It was not supposed to rain today, or even tomorrow for that matter.

As Mikaela ran, she thought mostly about Pet Palace. She remembered how she had dreamed of owning her own pet store ever since she was a little girl. She reminisced about the hours of her childhood spent swinging on an old tire swing held by a dense rope that had been draped