garden that ran along the back fence and began digging at the muddy earth. Apparently the garden had been watered not long before her arrival; the dirt she was digging was mud. Great, she thought, but continued to dig.
Much to her relief it didn’t take long. While the wooden fence ran up the sides of the yard, they hadn’t bothered with it across the back. Paul’s wall offered all the privacy needed there and its retaining wall was only buried a few feet in the ground. With her increased speed and strength, she had a three-foot-wide and three-foot-deep hole dug pretty fast, even with just her hands to work with.
Once Jeanne Louise had dug what she considered to be far enough down, she lay down in the garden to work her arm inside the hole and started digging under the wall itself, scooping out the dirt quickly and impatiently. She had broken the surface on the other side before it occurred to her that she should have called for Boomer to be sure he was still in the backyard. With the next swipe of her hand, though, she heard an excited yip from the other side of the wall and felt one paw swipe at the back of her hand trying to catch it in passing. Boomer was in the backyard.
Jeanne Louise picked up speed then, afraid that Boomer’s interest might draw the attention of someone in the house. It only took another moment before she’d dug out a space big enough for the animal to climb down through, which he did at once, wiggling eagerly under the wall and waddling up in the garden to leap at her face, tail wagging and tongue swiping at her cheeks.
“Good dog,” Jeanne Louise breathed and stood quickly to hurry back across the yard, her ears straining for any sound from Paul’s yard to warn her that someone had noticed something was amiss. When she hadn’t heard anything by the time she reached the gate again, Jeanne Louise was sure her actions had gone unnoticed. Clasping the wiggling dog to her chest, she hopped the fence as she had on the approach, then jogged to the car and slid in.
Paul pulled away at once, his attention between the road, her, and the fence she’d just hopped, as if he half expected to see someone come running after them.
“I think we’re good,” she said, patting Boomer to try to get him to settle in her lap. The dog was desperately torn between trying to lick her face and trying to crawl into Paul’s lap, but she held onto the cute little creature and just kept stroking him. “I don’t think anyone noticed or followed.”
Paul relaxed a little, his attention now only shifting from the road to her and occasionally the rearview mirror. He then cleared his throat, and asked, “Umm . . . Just how exactly did you get him?”
“I tunneled under your wall. I thought it was safer than hopping it and possibly being seen,” she admitted.
“Ah,” Paul murmured, and she glanced at him sharply, noting that his lips were twitching.
“Ah?” Jeanne Louise asked suspiciously. The man was trying not to laugh. “Ah what?”
He glanced to her, then away and cleared his throat, “That explains why you and Boomer look like you’ve been mud-wrestling.”
Jeanne Louise glanced down at herself and the dog and sighed. Boomer’s fur was matted with mud from wiggling under the wall. She was also mud-covered. Her hands and arms were the worst; they were coated with quickly drying mud, and the rest of her wasn’t much better. Her white silk blouse was wet and muddy, probably ruined, and her dress pants were caked as well. She’d been first kneeling and then lying in the muddy garden after all.
“You can’t be comfortable like that,” Paul said quietly. “We’ll have to stop and get you a change of clothes. Maybe we could rent a hotel room long enough for you to shower.”
“A change of clothes will do,” Jeanne Louise said quietly. “We shouldn’t risk a motel until we’re farther away from Toronto. In fact, I don’t think you should stop for clothes here either. I can stand it for
Much to her relief it didn’t take long. While the wooden fence ran up the sides of the yard, they hadn’t bothered with it across the back. Paul’s wall offered all the privacy needed there and its retaining wall was only buried a few feet in the ground. With her increased speed and strength, she had a three-foot-wide and three-foot-deep hole dug pretty fast, even with just her hands to work with.
Once Jeanne Louise had dug what she considered to be far enough down, she lay down in the garden to work her arm inside the hole and started digging under the wall itself, scooping out the dirt quickly and impatiently. She had broken the surface on the other side before it occurred to her that she should have called for Boomer to be sure he was still in the backyard. With the next swipe of her hand, though, she heard an excited yip from the other side of the wall and felt one paw swipe at the back of her hand trying to catch it in passing. Boomer was in the backyard.
Jeanne Louise picked up speed then, afraid that Boomer’s interest might draw the attention of someone in the house. It only took another moment before she’d dug out a space big enough for the animal to climb down through, which he did at once, wiggling eagerly under the wall and waddling up in the garden to leap at her face, tail wagging and tongue swiping at her cheeks.
“Good dog,” Jeanne Louise breathed and stood quickly to hurry back across the yard, her ears straining for any sound from Paul’s yard to warn her that someone had noticed something was amiss. When she hadn’t heard anything by the time she reached the gate again, Jeanne Louise was sure her actions had gone unnoticed. Clasping the wiggling dog to her chest, she hopped the fence as she had on the approach, then jogged to the car and slid in.
Paul pulled away at once, his attention between the road, her, and the fence she’d just hopped, as if he half expected to see someone come running after them.
“I think we’re good,” she said, patting Boomer to try to get him to settle in her lap. The dog was desperately torn between trying to lick her face and trying to crawl into Paul’s lap, but she held onto the cute little creature and just kept stroking him. “I don’t think anyone noticed or followed.”
Paul relaxed a little, his attention now only shifting from the road to her and occasionally the rearview mirror. He then cleared his throat, and asked, “Umm . . . Just how exactly did you get him?”
“I tunneled under your wall. I thought it was safer than hopping it and possibly being seen,” she admitted.
“Ah,” Paul murmured, and she glanced at him sharply, noting that his lips were twitching.
“Ah?” Jeanne Louise asked suspiciously. The man was trying not to laugh. “Ah what?”
He glanced to her, then away and cleared his throat, “That explains why you and Boomer look like you’ve been mud-wrestling.”
Jeanne Louise glanced down at herself and the dog and sighed. Boomer’s fur was matted with mud from wiggling under the wall. She was also mud-covered. Her hands and arms were the worst; they were coated with quickly drying mud, and the rest of her wasn’t much better. Her white silk blouse was wet and muddy, probably ruined, and her dress pants were caked as well. She’d been first kneeling and then lying in the muddy garden after all.
“You can’t be comfortable like that,” Paul said quietly. “We’ll have to stop and get you a change of clothes. Maybe we could rent a hotel room long enough for you to shower.”
“A change of clothes will do,” Jeanne Louise said quietly. “We shouldn’t risk a motel until we’re farther away from Toronto. In fact, I don’t think you should stop for clothes here either. I can stand it for
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