Page 19 of Keeping Amanda
The dog wanted the food. That was clear as day. But it was too scared to come any closer. So Amanda took a chance and gently lobbed an olive in his direction.
It had barely bounced a foot in front of his face when he moved. Snatching it up and backing up again all in one motion.
“There you go,” Amanda said with a small laugh. “Good, right? Here, I’ll eat one, then it’s your turn again.” She ateanother olive, then lobbed another at the dog. Once again, he gobbled it up as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
Then to her amazement, the dog scooted forward on its belly, closer to her.
“That’s right. Come on. I’m not going to hurt you. We can share the rest of this can. Because honestly? Olives taste horrible. But not to you, huh?” She kept up the one-sided conversation, all the time aware that Nash was behind her, watching and listening.
Amanda was a sucker for kids and animals. Especially strays. She supposed she might be considered a stray by some people. She had no family and was kind of wandering aimlessly, trying to figure out what to do with her life. The kids at the school and orphanage were also like strays. Doing their best to survive in this big ol’ unfair world.
“Here, if you don’t like the olives, take my beans. Let the dog have the rest of your breakfast.”
Amanda turned her head to see Nash holding out his half-eaten can of beans. “You should eat that,” she told him. “You need the calories.”
“I’ll be fine. We’ll eat better tonight, once I can hunt. If you don’t like the olives, you shouldn’t eat them, and we can’t let them go to waste. The dog can have them, and you can have the beans. I’m full anyway.”
He was full of shit, but Amanda felt like crying over both his kindness and his lie about being full. She seriously doubted he wasn’t at least a little hungry. She reached out and took the can from him, her fingers brushing against Nash’s in the process. Their gazes met, and time seemed to freeze for a moment. Something intense passed between them, but it was over as soon as it began.
“Look,” Nash whispered, nodding toward something over her shoulder.
Turning her head, Amanda barely stopped a surprised gaspfrom leaving her mouth. The dog had crept forward again while she was talking to Nash, and was now lying right in front of her. Within touching distance.
“Hey, boy. You like those olives, huh? Well, Nash was kind enough to say you could finish them.” Amanda slowly picked up the can of olives and poured a few on the ground in front of the dog. He ate them just as quickly as he had the others, then looked up at her with a hopeful expression on his face.
She chuckled. “All right, give me a second.” She alternated between eating the beans Nash had so unselfishly offered, and tossing the dog an olive. She didn’t think she should give him the entire rest of the can at once, for fear it would upset his tummy.
All too soon, both the beans and the olives were gone.
The dog looked at her with hopeful eyes, and she felt horrible that she had nothing else to give him. “I’m sorry, but that’s all there is. We ate everything.”
To her total shock, the dog wiggled closer and began to lick the juice off her fingers. It would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t so sad. If the dog wasn’t so desperate for calories he was willing to lick the smallest bit of leftover juice from her hand.
Making a split-second decision, Amanda poured some of the water Nash had caught the night before into the olive can, twirling it to mix the water with the remaining olive juice. Then she tilted the can so the dog’s tongue could reach the liquid. “How about some olive-flavored water?” she asked.
Before she finished her sentence, the dog stood and stuck his muzzle into the can, eagerly lapping at the water.
Turning, Amanda smiled at Nash. “He’s drinking,” she whispered ecstatically.
“I see that,” Nash responded with a small grin.
“Good boy,” she told the dog.
After he’d finished the water, he sat back on his haunches and stared at her.
“Well, that’sreallyall we can offer,” she told him sadly. “And we need to be on our way. Good luck, boy. Stay safe out there.”
As if he could understand, the dog bobbed his head, then turned and ran off into the trees.
Amanda stared after him for a long moment before taking a deep breath. “Right. I need to pee, then I guess it’s time for our nature hike to start, huh?”
She’d stood as she was talking, and when she turned, saw that Nash was also standing. And staring at her with a look she couldn’t interpret.
“What?” she asked, running a hand over her head a little self-consciously. She knew she was a mess. Thankfully, she had short hair so it wasn’t as much of a bird’s nest as it might’ve been. But she was still grubby and stinky, and soaking wet—again—from sitting in the light rain.
“You’re not what I expected,” Nash said after a moment. “And before you ask, I’m not surewhatI expected. Maybe more along the lines of someone scared. Weaker. More out of your element.”
Amanda couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I’m terrified, actually. And I’m as out of my element as I can be. But I’ve learned that if I fake it, I can usually convince those around me, mostly my students—and even myself—that I know what I’m doing.”
