CHAPTER 1
James Dunning pulled onto 84 and headed west. Beside him, Zoe stared into the night, made a little whimper, then curled her body into a tight ball and snuggled against his thigh. In a moment, she was asleep.
James ran his hand along her back, feeling her rough coat and the dog warmth just beneath it. Honestly, he was close to tears. But he’d volunteered to do this. He’d had to be the one to do it, and he knew that. Susan could never have handled it. She’d be crying so hard right now she’d drive off the road.
There was no choice, that was the worst thing. There was just nothing else they could do. The Record had cut his job and kicked him out, just like that, after more than 20 years. Kicked him out and by now, kicked out more people than he could recall.
Susan’s hours at the college had been cut, too, and this came as a complete shock, because more people were going to school, and from what James could see, about 90 percent of them were completely nuts, completely in need of counseling, and since Sue worked part-time and got no benefits, it seemed to him that she would be the one who would get more hours, not fewer.
But that’s not how it turned out.
Susan had worked only about a third of the hours she’d counted on working. James had simply not been able to get a job. Hell, all he knew was how to write and edit, and who needed those skills these days? Who cared about those skills? Who even knew they existed, or that there was a difference between a good sentence and a bad one, or that “eager”meant one thing and “anxious” meant something else?
James had been looking for work. He’d applied at Shop-Rite and McDonald’s and Wal-Mart. He’d applied at Gander Mountain and Panera Bread and Home Depot and Lowe’s. He’d applied to tourism groups across the region, every marketing firm around, and every government job he could conceivably accomplish. He’d applied to every newspaper in the area, all the papers in the City, and every magazine within 100 miles of their home in New Windsor.
He’d gotten nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. The papers and magazines weren’t hiring. The chains saw him as overqualified and destined to be unhappy with the salary they could pay him. And the others, the marketing groups and tourism people and county governments, they just didn’t respond. For weeks, he chased them down by phone and in person, trying to find someone, anyone who would interview him - if he could just get an interview, he was sure he could get a job - but finally, broken and exhausted, feeling like a stalker, he stopped.
And now, he and Susan had gone through nearly all their savings. They could keep up with the car payments, and they’d nearly paid off the credit cards, but they couldn’t keep the house and live in it, too. Their only hope was to move in with Susan’s mother, and she was happy to have them (happy, really, to have her daughter and granddaughter living under her roof, James thought, and willing to take him in trade).
If they lived with her, they could rent their house, and in a year or two, they could move back in and resume their lives. Most of their furniture was in storage already. The rest was in their new home in Goshen. Susan and Amelia were there, too. The renters were scheduled to move in tomorrow, and so, there was just this one thing between them and safety.
This one warm, soft, mostly blind little thing.
Zoe.
Carrie Jacobson may be reached at carriebjacobson@gmail.com. Also check out
carriejacobson.blogspot.com and artforshelteranimals.blogspot.com
carriejacobson.blogspot.com and artforshelteranimals.blogspot.com
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