presidency? Can cows sing?”
Nora laughed, too, and very prettily. “Can ducks tap-dance?”
In a fit of silliness that was a reaction to the difficulty of dealing
intellectually and emotionally with the whole idea of a dog as smart as
Einstein, Travis said, “I once saw a duck tap-dancing.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. In Vegas.”
Laughing, she said, “What hotel was he performing at?”
“Caesar’s Palace. He could sing, too.”
“The duck?”
“Yeah. Ask me his name.”
“What was his name?”
“Sammy Davis Duck, Jr.,” Travis said, and they laughed again. “He was such a big
star they didn’t even have to put his entire name on the marquee for people to
know who was performing there.”
“They just put ‘Sammy,’ huh?”
“No. Just ‘Jr.’
Einstein returned from the window and stood watching them, his head cocked,
trying to figure out why they were acting so peculiar.
The puzzled expression on the retriever’s face struck both Travis and Nora as
the most comical thing they had ever seen. They leaned on each other, held each
other, and laughed like fools.
With a snort of derision, the retriever went back to the window.
As they gradually regained control of themselves and as their laughter subsided,
Travis became aware that he was holding Nora, that her head was on his shoulder,
that the physical contact between them was greater than any they had allowed
themselves before. Her hair smelled clean, fresh. He could feel the body heat
pouring off her. Suddenly, he wanted her desperately, and he knew he was going
to kiss her when she raised her head from his shoulder. A moment later she
looked up, and he did what he knew he’d do—he kissed her—and she kissed him. For
a second or two, she did not seem to realize what was happening, what it meant;
briefly, it was without significance, sweet and utterly innocent, not a kiss of
passion but of friendship and great affection. Then the kiss changed, and her
mouth softened. She began to breathe faster, and her hand tightened on his arm,
and she tried to pull him closer. A low murmur of need escaped her—and the sound
of her own voice brought her to her senses. Abruptly, she stiffened with
complete awareness of him as a man, and her beautiful eyes were wide with
wonder—and fear—at what had almost happened. Travis instantly drew back because
he knew instinctively that the time was not right, not yet perfect. When at last
they did make love, it must be exactly right, without hesitation or distraction,
because for the rest of their lives they would always remember their first time,
and the memory Should be all bright and joyous, worth taking out and examining a
thousand times as they grew old together. Although it was not quite time to put
their
future into words and confirm it with vows, Travis had no doubt that he and Nora
Devon would be spending their lives with each other, and he realized that,
subconsciously, he’d been aware of this inevitability for at least the past few
days.
After a moment of awkwardness, as they drew apart and tried to decide whether to
comment on the sudden change in their relationship, Nora finally said, “He’s
still at the window.”
Einstein pressed his nose to the glass, staring out at the night.
“Could he be telling the truth?” Nora wondered. “Could there have been something
else that escaped from the lab, something that bizarre?”
“If they had a dog as smart as him, I guess they might have had other things
even more peculiar. And there was something in the woods that day.”
“But there’s no danger of it finding him, surely. Not after you brought him this
far north.”
“No danger,” Travis agreed. “I don’t think Einstein understands how far we came
from where I found him. Whatever was in the woods couldn’t track him down now.
But I’ll bet the people from that lab have mounted one hell of a search. It’s
them I’m worried about. And so is Einstein, which is why he usually plays at
being a dumb dog in public and reveals his intelligence only in private to me
and now you. He doesn’t want to go back.”