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AN CLUTCHED THE LAUGHINGLabradoodle he was whittling to become a Puppy Palace handle. Pride filled him. He’d caught the model Labradoodle’s grin exactly. The dog’s dad would love it. As for the over-endowed curve on the Labradoodle’s belly, the dog’s mom, who hadn’t seen a living, breathing entity she didn’t want to feed, would love that.
Mary called the carving a work of art, not to mentiononeofthecutestthingsshehadeverseen.Cute, maybe, but art was serious stuff, so this wasn’t art. Thisfelttoogoodinhishandsand—okay,okay,he’d admit it — in his heart to be art.
The landline phone rang. Mary would get it. She usually did when he was working, just like he did when she was working. He turned his attention back to the Puppy Palace.
“Mary?SheriffAngusButtercuphere.Ithoughtyou should know the paramedics have taken your uncle to the hospital. He and Van’s aunt have been in an accident. Wait. No. Mrs. Smythe has a head wound that bled like crazy, but it will be fine with a few stitches. There’s not a scratch on your Uncle Brock.
“The van is a write-off, and it’s some kind of miracle they’re okay. The miracle of Brock’s driving, I’d say. Yeah, I know. I wish everyone would take as many defensive driving courses as he has. I wouldn’t havetogivethenextofkinbadnewsnearlyasoften.
“This isn’t that kind of notification, but I did figure you’d want to know about the hospital. The medics saidhisheartissoundingalittlewonky.Theythought he should get checked. No, Mrs. Smythe is fine all the way around. Just worried sick about Brock. She wouldn’t let us take her home. She’s at the hospital too.
“Is Van there? I’d like to tell him about his aunt myself. Want to make sure he understands she’s okay.
“You’re welcome. All part of the job, ma’am.
“Van? No, no, your aunt isn’t hurt. Just a messy scratch.
“Near as we can figure it, some tourist floored his accelerator to pass Brock going over the bridge. Yeah, across the Bron River, down at the lake.
“They had a puppy with them. No, I don’t know where it came from. Oh, you’re missing one? Bet it’s that little son of a gun Pepe. I think they stopped to play with the dog in the park for a bit, and then went on toward Mary’s place.
“That crazy tourist pulled out to pass Brock and lost control. He was about to smash head on into oncoming traffic. I think he would have bounced off whoever he hit and sideswiped Brock’s van to smash it right into the concrete side of the bridge.
“No, sir, I think your aunt would’ve been crushed.
“Brock must’ve thought so. Near as we can reconstruct the accident, he stomped on his accelerator and rammed the tourist’s car in the perfect spot to throw it into a spin and off onto the shoulder on the opposite side of the road. The dang fool must have missedtheoncomingtrafficbyinches.Brocksteered out of the collision into a spin on his side of the road. He hit the bridge, but on his side of the van.
“He’s a hero, Van. No telling how many lives he saved on top of your aunt’s. That multi-car crack-up would have been one heck of a mess. Thanks to Brock, though, even that idiot tourist got out of it with only a few bumps and bruises.
“A billboard in the park? Say, that’s not a bad idea. It’s been a while since we’ve had a nice, noisy billboard in Hero’s Corner.
“No, sir, I don’t think that’s nearly enough. I think the town should put together a parade and marching band in honor of Brock Samuel.”
“What’s going on with that uncle of yours, Mary?” Van asked when they settled at the kitchen table after returning from another fruitless attempt to get an answer at Brock’s door.
She played with her coffee cup. She and Van had not had to replace one for days now. “The doctors wouldn’t tell me anything, of course. He told them not to. So, I called the hospital and managed to connect with one of the cleaners. I asked for a quote to go into a story I was doing on the Highway Hero. It wasalong-shot,butitworked.Brockwastopofmind and mouth in every break room in the hospital.”
“A cleaner?”
“Nobody pays any attention to them, and they hear everything. Not that there was much to hear. One doctor said he’d heard the guy who looked after Uncle Brock wished he’d been willing to stay longer for observation. He might be suffering from PTSD, or something like that.”
“WhatposttraumaticstresswouldBrockbehaving trouble dealing with?”
“I don’t know, but things like that can make the body do almost anything, including kick up an erratic heartbeat. That’s what they were most worried about.”
“He’s got an erratic heart, all right,” Van rumbled.
“Yeah,Iknow,Van.I’mworriedaboutCyntoo,andI can’thelpbeingabitangrywithBrock.It’shalfkilling her that he won’t see her.”
“I wouldn’t mind half killing him.”
***
“We’re making a mistake.” Mary set her hands on Van’s shoulders to make him hold still while she persuaded him about the mistake — and fixed his “black tie” bow tie. It was always hard to get him into a bow tie, but she figured that wasn’t why he was fidgeting this time.
