Finders Keepers Page 2

  “Hey,” I said, standing up. He wasn’t sitting on my driver’s seat. He’d perched himself in the passenger seat, just sitting up like he’d been waiting for me to give him a lift. “You right there?”

  His pink tongue lolled out of his dirty face. He obviously wasn’t dangerous, and he sure didn’t look like he was going anywhere. I sat in my seat and closed the door and looked at my new passenger.

  “You look like an Ewok.”

  I’m certain he smiled.

  And then I noticed his collar had a name tag. I reached out slowly, gauging his response, but he licked my finger so I assumed we were good. I lifted his name tag and had to rub the mud away so I could read it.

  Wicket.

  His name was Wicket.

  It took me a second, but I got it. Wicket was indeed an Ewok from Star Wars. The cute little curious one that meets Princess Leia. “Well, Wicket, I bet someone misses you.”

  He grinned at me some more.

  I turned the name tag over and found a mobile phone number. Thank God. I took out my phone and dialled.

  Chapter Two

  Dane Hughes

  * * *

  Normally I’d be stoked with a week in Surfers Paradise, especially when it was an all-expenses-paid work stint. Sure, the days were kind of boring with hours of meetings, think-tanks, role-plays, and any other initiative-based classes that Australia’s largest telco company thought its staff should endure. But the nights were usually dinner and drinks and it was good to hang out on a personal level with other store managers from across Queensland. I only saw these people a few times a year and I loved catching up with them.

  And this trip started out just fine, but after a phone call from my distressed mother, all I wanted to do was go home.

  I had left my dog with my parents while I was away, and two days ago, I got a phone call from my mum in tears.

  Wicket was missing.

  “I only left the door unlocked for a second while I went to the mailbox,” she cried.

  I’d told her a thousand times—she knew from being at my place—that Wicket could jump up, swipe the handle of any screen door, and wait for it to swing open, then be gone like the wind.

  And gone, he was.

  Mum and Dad lived in Caloundra, twenty kilometres from where I lived in Maroochydore. I’d dropped Wicket off at their place on my way to the Gold Coast, with his food and bed and leash and favourite toys. Dad just had his knee operated on so he couldn’t drive, and Mum didn’t have a licence. But Mum had called every vet in town and the council pound every few hours. She’d walked the entire suburb, calling his name. Caloundra wasn’t exactly a huge city, but it was big enough, and Wicket wasn’t familiar with it at all. And to a small dog, it may as well have been an endless maze of one distracting smell after another.

  I couldn’t leave the course. It was compulsory training, and nothing short of a family emergency was a plausible enough reason to leave. Believe me, I asked.

  Taking phone calls mid-course wasn’t acceptable either. Guest speakers didn’t exactly feel appreciated when mobile phones rang, interrupting their well-rehearsed spiels. It was respectful to switch phones to silent. I could appreciate that.

  But I needed updates. And when my phone vibrated in my pocket, I was dying to check it. There was just no way I could. Then, over the next hour, it buzzed again and again. When we were excused for lunch, I already had my phone out and was walking toward the door before anyone had even stood up. I had two missed calls, two voicemails, and four texts, all from an unknown number. And one text from my mother. I read hers first.

  Still no luck

  I frowned, and with a heavy sigh, I read the other text messages. One was from Li, my right-hand woman at work. I’d left her in charge and had no doubt in her ability to run a smooth shop. Her message was just to let me know all was well but if I could give her a quick call when I could. The next message was from my brother.

  Mum told me about Wicket. Dad’s pissed he can’t drive the streets looking for him too. Let me know what you need me to do.

  A pang of hopelessness squeezed my heart. I was touched that my younger brother wanted to help, but he was at uni in Brisbane. What could he possibly do from there? And I loved that my whole family was so concerned, but I was heartsick that I was hundreds of kilometres away doing nothing while Wicket was lost.

  I tried not to think about what he was going through. If he was hurt, hungry, scared. Had he been hit by a car? I’d heard horror stories of dogs being stolen for dog-fighting. Oh God, Wicket wouldn’t stand a chance…

  Please, dear God, no.

  I checked the last text.

  Hi. I left some voicemails… I think I found your dog.

  I blinked and reread the text.

  They left a message. I fumbled for the voicemail and paced until the recording started to play. Then I stopped in my tracks.

  Um, hi. Hello. My name is Griffin. Um, could you please return my call? Thanks.

  The message ended abruptly, which was strange. It was a guy’s voice and he never mentioned a dog. Yet his text did…

  Then another. Oh, um, me again. Uh, Griffin. I forgot to mention, if you could call me back at this number. It’s about a dog.

  I hit redial, and whoever answered, did so with a laugh. “Hello?”

  It was the same voice on the voicemails. “Yes, Griffin, is it? I’m returning your call about a dog.”

  He wasn’t laughing now. “Yes. I found a dog. Can you tell me about him?”

  What the…? “What? If you found him, then you know what he looks like.”

  “Yes, but do you?”

  Okay, this was officially weird, and after being so damn worried, this random guy was giving me cryptic shit? Almost like he was… “Oh my God. Are you holding him ransom?”

  “What? No! I just need to make sure you’re his… I mean, this dog’s actual owner before I let you take him and use him as bait for dog fights.”

  I squinted my eyes shut and replayed his words over in my head. Was he accusing me of animal cruelty? Or was he protecting Wicket and making sure I wasn’t some sicko like on that episode of—

  “Because I watched that episode of 60 Minutes,” he went on to say. “So you’ll have to describe him… I mean, the dog, before I decide if you’re legit or not.”

  I found myself smiling, though I didn’t know why. “Yes, it’s a he. My number’s on his tag, so I’m not sure why you don’t think I’m legit, but I’ll play along. His name is Wicket. His collar is blue. His favourite food is chicken strips but he’ll beg for toast even though he knows he’s not allowed to have it. He’s a white fluffy thing, looks like an Ewok.”

  Griffin breathed out a soft laugh. “Hence the name. I figured it had to be a Star Wars reference. He looked too much like him for it to be a coincidence.”

  Oh my God, it was really him. Wicket was found. “Is he okay? Where did you find him?”

  “He was at the car park of the National Park. I went there to hike up Mount Coolum, and I have to say, how irresponsible it is to just leave him there without water”

  “Mount Coolum?” I barked. “Where the hell is he?”

  “I live at Coolum. I found him at the car park at Mount Coolum National Park.” Then he was quiet for a second. “Where do you live?”

  “I live in Maroochydore, but I’d dropped him off at my parents’ house in Caloundra.”

  “Caloundra?”

  “Yes! How the hell did he get from Caloundra to Coolum?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he hitched a ride with someone by mistake. He certainly had no problems getting in my car. I had the door open, and he jumped in and sat up in the passenger side like he’d booked an Uber.”

  “Oh man.” I sighed and squeezed my thumb and forefinger into the bridge of my nose. “He likes cars.”

  “I actually found him yesterday. I hiked yesterday, and I sat at the picnic tables because it was so stinkin’ hot. He was there then. I gave him a drink of
water, thinking his owners were walking along one of the trails. But then I went back today. I didn’t know they close the trail after rain because I’m just new here—well, I’d read it but I just forgot—but Wicket was still there, hiding under one of the tables. He was soaked and muddy. If I hadn’t seen him the day before, I wouldn’t have thought it was the same dog.”

  “Oh my God, is he okay?”

  “He is now. I gave him a bath and food. He slept like a log.”

  “You did all that?”

  “Of course I did.” He sounded indignant. I didn’t mean to question his compassion. “And I didn’t know he was actually white. Even yesterday before the rain and mud, he was kinda brown. I’d say he’s had quite the adventure.”

  I frowned, my heart heavy knowing Wicket had been through an ordeal. “Where is he now?”

  “With me. We’re at the beach. He’s having a lovely time chasing soldier crabs.”

  He took him to the beach?

  “I was going to take him to the dog park, but I wasn’t sure if his vaccinations were up to date…”

  “Oh, um…” He’d thrown me for a loop. “Yes, they are. He goes to the vet every six months. Look, he can open screen doors if they’re not locked, and that’s how he escaped from Mum and Dad’s place. Mum doesn’t have a licence and Dad can’t drive right now. Everyone’s been worried sick. My mum keeps crying because she feels responsible. She knows he’s like my baby, and I’m stuck on the Gold Coast. I feel so helpless…”

  I didn’t know why I felt the need to explain all this, but I needed him to know I wasn’t a bad person.

  His tone was softer now. “Well, he’s fine now. You can stop worrying.”

  I scrubbed my hand over my face. “Thank you. And it is a relief to know he’s safe.” But now logistics were my biggest issue. “I’m just not sure how I’m going to collect him. I can call one of the local vets to see if they can board him until I get home, I guess. Or maybe a boarding kennel…”

  “How long are you away for?” he asked.

  “I’m stuck at a work course for another four days.”

  “I can keep him for four days,” Griffin suggested.

  “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s not your responsibility. And you’ve already done enough, more than I can ever thank you for.”

  “It’s been no problem. I’ve actually enjoyed it. It’s a good excuse to get outside, and my landlady doesn’t mind at all. In fact, she thinks he’s cute.” There was a muffled sound as if he was talking to somebody else, or maybe to Wicket. The wind had picked up and I couldn’t make out what he said.

  “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

  There was the sound of panting, like he was running, then laughter, and the sound of the wind stopped dead. I imagined he found shelter wherever he was. The truth was I have no clue where he was, and for that matter, where Wicket was.

  “Sorry,” Griffin replied breathily. “Had to chase him a bit. He’s fast.”

  “Yeah, he is.” I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful… How do I know he’s okay?”

  “I can send you a photo,” he replied simply.

  “Oh, um… sure. That’d be great, thanks.”

  “I meant what I said before. I can look after him, it’s really no problem. I do start my new job the day after tomorrow, but the yard at my place is secure. Plus, my landlady will keep an eye on him during the day.”

  “You live with your landlady?”

  He snorted. “No, she converted her house into two. I live upstairs. And I’ll be home by dinner time, so I can walk him and give him dinner.”

  I smiled at that. “It sounds like he’s got you wound around his little finger.”

  He laughed and it was a lovely sound, like happiness and sunshine, and it made my heart warm. “I think he knows it too,” Griffin said. “You know, he really does actually smile? I never thought that was something dogs could do, but he does. Like he understands every word I’m saying to him and he just smiles along.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. “Oh yeah, he totally does.”

  I don’t know how it happened, but I found myself wondering about this Griffin guy. His voice was warm and smooth and he was obviously kind and compassionate… Maybe he was just a good Samaritan and our paths would never cross again after I got Wicket back, but I was intrigued, that was for sure.

  “Okay, look,” I said. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble…”

  “No trouble at all,” he replied. Then he spoke away from the phone, but I heard him just fine. “Did you hear that, Wicket? Daddy says you can stay a bit longer.” Then his voice was back on the phone. “He’s smiling.”

  I chuckled, and for some strange reason, I blushed. “I’m sure he is.”

  “Okay, well, I’ll send you a photo so you know he’s fine.” A pause. “Uh, what’s your name?”

  “Oh, Dane. Dane Hughes.”

  “Well, Dane, Dane Hughes,” he replied. I rolled my eyes at his cheesiness but hadn’t stopped smiling yet. “I’m Griffin Burke.”

  “Thank you, Griffin Burke, for being so kind to Wicket.”

  “You’re welcome. And I’m not saying I wouldn’t have rescued him if his name wasn’t Wicket, but I’m a Star Wars fan so it was a no-brainer. Well, that, and the fact he wouldn’t get out of my car.”

  I snorted. “Sorry if he made a mess. Hey, if you wanna send me a PayPal address or something, I can send you some money for his food. I don’t expect you to have to pay for anything.”

  “It’s fine. Really, it’s no trouble. Like I said, it’s been a great excuse for me to get out and explore the coast. I’ve only been here a few days.”

  There was so much I wanted to ask him, but someone from the course I was attending signalled me that people were heading back inside for the afternoon session. Shit. I hadn’t even had any lunch.

  “Well, if you’re sure. We can work all that out later anyway,” I said. “I gotta go. My course is about to start.”

  “Well, have fun. We’re off to spend the afternoon at Noosa. I’m sure there’s a café up there that sells doggie cookies.”

  I barked out a laugh. “There is.” God, what did I say now? “Well, um, stay in touch.”

  “Will do.”

  The line went silent and I quickly sent my mum a text. Wicket’s been found. He’s in Coolum! Will explain later tonight.

  An hour later as the guest speaker droned on, my stomach rumbled and my attention waned, my thoughts kept going back to Griffin. I carefully snuck out my phone and saw I had three messages, my mum saying, Thank God!

  Then there were two photos. One was of Wicket, all white and clean and fluffy, sitting on the sandy grass, his bright eyes looking straight up at the camera. And yes, he was smiling. I could also see half of two bare feet in the grass. Griffin’s feet, obviously, given that he’d taken and sent the photo.

  The grass looked soft and the bare feet reminded me that he was out at the beach and I was stuck in a classroom hearing about optic cabling and broadband restrictions. And that Griffin had nice toes.

  The second photo was also of Wicket, this time he was sitting on what looked like an outdoor café chair. God help me. He was actually sitting on the chair at the table. There was a milkshake of some kind on the table in front of the photographer, Griffin, and a plate with a bone-shaped cookie in front of Wicket.

  Wicket was grinning.

  I laughed in the middle of the guest speaker’s talk, then pretended to cover it with a cough. Though I’m sure my smile gave me away. I waited until people stopped looking at me, then thumbed a reply.

  He looks so happy, thank you.

  Griffin replied. You’re welcome.

  I’ve been so worried about him. Thank you for taking him home.

  My pleasure. He’s an absolute joy.

  I was going to reply that Wicket was a hole-digging, Steve McQueen escape artist but
didn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, I replied, Feel free to keep me updated on the Griffin and Wicket adventures.

  LOL I will.

  “Mr Hughes,” the guest speaker said. I looked up, horrified at being busted. “Somewhere else you’d rather be?”

  Actually, yes. At Noosa having milkshakes with some pretty cool stranger who picked up my lost dog, who, right this second, is giving him a bone-shaped cookie and taking him on adventures up and down the Sunshine Coast.

  I didn’t say that, of course. I opted for a more professional response. “Ah, no sir. Sorry for the interruption.”

  Chapter Three

  Griffin

  Wicket fell asleep in the car on the drive home. I took my time winding down David Low Way, taking in the spectacular view of the Pacific Ocean, and my mind kept going over the conversation I’d had with Dane.

  He certainly didn’t intend to cause harm to Wicket. In fact, he sounded relieved that Wicket was found, safe and well. More than relieved, he even sounded a little choked up. Then we kind of got chatting and I realised that Dane was a nice guy who’d lost his dog.

  His voice was easy to listen to, and his laughter warm and throaty; a pleasant sound that I could imagine hearing up close and personal, lips pressed to my ear. I tried not to let my thoughts go down that path. I knew nothing of him, only that he worked in a job that meant he had week-long conferences and his mum babysat his dog. And he had one helluva cute dog.

  I pulled up into the garage and Wicket shook himself awake. I waited for him to do his business on the grass, then took him upstairs where he proceeded to plop himself on the couch and go straight back to sleep.

  I stood there and watched him, thinking, lucky bastard, and wishing I could join him. Then I realised there was no reason why I couldn’t join him. So I did. I edged in beside him and lay down. I shoved a cushion under my head and considered closing my eyes for just a minute.

  I woke up an hour later when Wicket stretched out against me. Sometime in the last hour, he’d snuggled in beside me, though now he was awake but quite content to just lie there. I smiled at him and rustled the fur between his ears. His tail thumped on the sofa. “Hey, little guy,” I said.