Kendall and Kyleah

Chapter 1

Ocean Park, Washington

Molly, you stupid dog! You’re going to make me late for school."

Twelve-year-old Kendall Ralston fought to keep the leashes of three dogs from tangling as they pulled him in different directions. Molly, a caramel-brown, hyperactive, long-haired Chihuahua-dachshund mix, barked at everything and everyone. Sport, a timid Shetland sheep dog stepped too close and Molly snapped at him. When Kendall jerked her leash and scolded, she lay down, rolled onto her back and whimpered—while Sport and Lester, a young black Labrador retriever, darted ahead, jerking Kendall’s right arm when they hit the end of their leashes. Molly jumped to her feet and barked wildly at a cat on the other side of the street.

Kendall had met Molly and cared for her while her owners ate at a pancake breakfast the year before, so when they called, he’d accepted her into his dog-walking service without question.

He liked the money he made taking dogs to the beach twice each day. The number had grown from two, counting his own dog, Storm, to seven, in a short time. With the new one he was picking up in the next block, he’d have eight.

Kendall untangled Molly’s leash from Lester’s, picked her up, and carried her to the address of his newest charge, a blue heeler named Taz. He had already walked Storm, his own poodle-terrier mix, and Duke, the grocery-store owner’s beagle, Pixie, a cocker spaniel, and Rosy, a Jack Russell terrier. When school let out for the summer, he’d take just two at a time. That would take longer, but it would be easier and more fun.

By carrying Molly, Kendall managed the other three quite well. First they sniffed each other and squabbled a little to see who was boss. Taz won.

When they arrived at the beach—the world’s longest, according to the sign in Long Beach, Washington—he put Molly down. With two leashes in each hand, he trotted north, parallel to the mild waves. Molly barked at a jogger. Taz growled and pounced on her, rolling her in the sand.

Kendall jerked Taz’s leash, but not in time to keep him from biting into Molly’s neck. Stop it you stupid dog. Let go! Terrified that Molly was about to be killed, Kendall kicked the heeler. Taz yelped, jumped out of reach, and circled Kendall. As the leash wrapped around his legs, Kendall fell hard. Taz lunged at Molly, pinning her down. Scrambling to his feet, Kendall dropped the leashes and reached for Taz’s collar. Taz bit. Ow! Jumping back, Kendall looked for something to put between the two dogs. There was nothing.

Get! he yelled, desperately waving his arms at Taz. Get out of here! Molly’s yelps were terrifying. He kicked Taz again, hard. Taz yelped and dashed up the beach and out of sight.

Molly lay still, letting the waves lap her belly. Kendall knelt to examine her. Please don’t be dead. Oh, Molly, I’m so sorry.

Her sides moved rapidly in and out. Her amber eyes opened. Blood darkened her caramel-brown coat from her neck to her shoulder. Kendall wrapped her in his coat and carried her. As he neared her home, he saw her owners walking to their car.

Wait! Kendall yelled. The man stopped and walked toward him.

I’m sorry. She’s hurt. Another dog attacked her. I couldn’t get him off in time. Can you take her to a vet? Please. She’s still alive.

He watched horror turn to anger on the woman’s pretty face. The man cursed and took Molly from him. I’ll deal with you later, he warned Kendall. Get in the car, honey. I’ll drive.

Kendall watched until their car, with Molly still wrapped in his coat, zoomed away. He wanted to hide, but he had to find the other three dogs.

He found the sheltie first. A jogger knelt in front of him, petting and talking to him.

I’ll take him, Kendall said. He got away.

Are you all right? the woman asked.

Kendall looked at his dirty jeans and bloody shirt. Uh, I fell. That’s when Sport got away.

Sport, huh, the woman asked as she looked at the tags on his collar. Okay. I guess he’s your dog. I just wanted to be sure.

Kendall started to explain, but the jogger was up and running. He followed, calling for Lester. When he got no response, he decided to take Sport home. As he passed the house where Lester’s owners, the Torringtons, lived, he saw the big black lab on the step. Before he could get to him, the door opened and Lester ran in. Judy Torrington stepped out.

Looks like you had some trouble, she said.

Yes. I’m sorry I let Lester get away.

Well, he’s safe at home, now. She smiled and closed the door.

Kendall delivered Sport to his home and turned back toward the beach to search for Taz. Tears filled his eyes, and a painful lump of fear filled his throat. I shouldn’t have tried to take four dogs out at once.

A car stopped beside him. Hey, where’s my dog? demanded Mr. Stone, the man who owned Taz.

He got in a fight. I, uh…he, uh…he got away.

We’ll drive around, said Mrs. Stone from the passenger seat. But we can’t search long. We can’t be late to work.

Kendall ran toward the beach, yelling, Taz! When he stopped to ask a lady if she had seen a stray dog, a car horn blared behind him.

Found him. Come talk to us this evening! Mr. Stone yelled out his car window.

Kendall watched him drive away with Taz looking out the back-seat window. The car turned the corner on Pacific Drive. The school bus went by behind it. He trudged home.

A note, propped against his cereal bowl told him that Lani, his foster mother, had received a call shortly after he left to walk his dogs. It was a house fire not far from where they lived. Lani was a volunteer firefighter, besides being manager of the Sunset View Resort, where they lived in Ocean Park, Washington.

Kendall undressed and dropped his sand-covered, salt-water-soaked clothes on the floor. He looked at his arm where Taz had bit him. There was a red mark, but the skin wasn’t broken. He showered, called Storm, and fell back into his unmade bed in just his underwear. No way to get to school now, and he didn’t feel like facing anyone, anyway. With Storm snuggled against him, he picked up a book, hoping to erase the memory of poor, bleeding Molly. But his mind wouldn’t stop thinking of all the ways he might have avoided the tragedy.

Kendall had started his dog walking service shortly after turning twelve in April. Before that, he’d worked for the grocery store owner at his home, cleaning up after his dog in the fenced backyard once a week. It wasn’t long before the man asked him to walk his beagle, Duke, every day. Kendall took him with Storm on their morning walks to the beach. Storm and Duke became great friends. Kendall liked the job—and the money. He deposited every bit of it in a savings account, sure that it would come in handy someday, but with no idea of what he was saving for.

Soon, people started asking him to walk their dogs. He had never said no. Oh, how he wished he’d said no to Taz. With an arm around Storm, he finally fell asleep.

~~~~~~~

Kendall woke from a bad dream. Lani sat on the edge of his bed, stroking his face. What happened? Are you okay?

Kendall explained the dog fight in detail, making no excuses. I was so stupid. Why did I think I could handle four dogs at once?

I should have advised against it when Mr. Stone called last night.

It’s not your fault. I said yes because I felt important when he said he’d heard good things about my services. Well, now everyone will hear how bad I am. Nobody will want me near their dogs.

You’re too hard on yourself. We all make mistakes, learn from them, and go on. Let’s eat lunch. Then I’ll take you to school.

Kendall nodded. Was it a bad fire?

Not too bad. We were able to save most of the house. Sorry I wasn’t here when you got back from the beach. I could have driven you to school.

It’s okay. I think they were just going to watch a movie today. We finished all of our tests.

Kendall’s sixth-grade teacher made everything so interesting that learning was fun. For the first time since second grade, when he lived with his grandparents, he actually liked going to school. He had barely started third grade when a drunk driver struck down his grandparents, Pop and Meemie. From then on it had just been Kendall and Dad, moving from town to town so often that if he went to school at all, he was so far behind his classmates that he couldn’t catch up before they moved again. Reading was the only subject that came easily for him. Until now, he’d been an outsider at school. This year, he felt competent in all subjects.

It’s just a little after twelve. Get dressed. You may be in time to see your movie.

He dressed quickly and looked for his dirty clothes. He always carried his wallet in his jeans pocket. It contained his most important treasure.

Lani, where are my wet clothes. I left my wallet in my pocket.

Oh! I put them in the washer before I woke you. I forgot to check your pockets. I’m so sorry.

The well worn, faded picture of his twin sister, Kyleah, was in that wallet. Dad had snapped it just before his fourth birthday. By looking at it every day, he kept his memory of Kyleah fresh. He’d shared everything with her until that fateful day when his parents pulled them apart and his father hauled him to Pop and Meemie. He hadn’t seen his mother and Kyleah for over eight years.

To make it worse, his dad refused to talk about them. Kendall still didn’t know if they were alive or dead. His mother had faded from his memory long ago, but he still longed to find his sister.

When Dad drove them to the Long Beach Peninsula in western Washington, Kendall had hated it—until he met Lani. Like an angel, she had encouraged him and shown him love, respect, and understanding unlike any he’d ever known.

Life was brighter and the future more promising since Lani became his foster mother after Dad was sent to prison.

Maybe losing Kyleah’s picture was a sign that he should forget the past because he was never going to see her again, anyway, but Lani was here to stay. And yet, as he thought about how happy he was with his life, a tickle of fear ran up his spine. It was scary to care about someone so much. So far he’d lost everyone he’d ever loved.

Chapter 2

Cowley County, Kansas

Kyleah pressed her forehead into Jewel’s flank and squeezed her back teats, squirting long streams of milk into the metal bucket between her knees. Her thoughts were a million miles away—well, thousands at least. She missed her friend Benjamin and their talks, when they milked the cows each evening. She even missed his teasing.

She would like to see him tackle Sophie, the first calf heifer locked in Maude’s stanchion. As Kyleah milked Maude, Sophie bumped against her back whenever she sidestepped—which she insisted on doing, now that her grain was gone. Nervous, Kyleah thought. She’d tried to get Sophie into a stanchion a bit farther away—there were four in the old barn—but Sophie insisted on standing next to Maude sandwiching Kyleah between them. If only Benjamin were over there milking her. I wonder what he’s doing. I wonder if he thinks about me.

Ouch! Dang you, Jewel! Kyleah yelled as the cow’s right hind foot, with a quick, sharp blow, knocked her off the stool and onto her back. Warm milk soaked through her jacket and jeans. Sophie jumped forward, trouncing into the middle of the Kyleah’s stomach. Umph! Kyleah groaned. The heifer jerked back hard, yanking her head from the stanchion and backing over Kyleah.

A dirty front hoof glanced off the side of Kyleah’s face at the same time Jewel joined the dance and pinched the flesh of Kyleah’s lower leg to the floor. Rolling over, Kyleah managed to get her breath and pull herself to her feet. She opened Sophie’s stanchion and poured more grain in the feeder. Limping toward the closed door where the frightened Sophie stood trembling, she herded the heifer back toward the stanchion. Her soft, soothing tone belied her words. Okay, you stupid, rotten bovine, back to your grain. You aren’t going to get out of being milked that easy. Move on now. Benjamin, if I could reach you, I’d wring your neck for leaving me with these ungrateful, ungracious, smelly cows.

At last, Sophie was locked in her stanchion again. Kyleah, energized by anger, put kickers on both cows, rinsed out the bucket and finished her job.

For heaven’s sake, what happened to you? asked Aunt Jude, setting a steaming casserole on the table.

Kyleah set a bucket full of milk on the counter next to the sink and got out the strainer. Jewel kicked and I landed under Sophie. Almost a whole bucket of milk got spilled, so I only got one tonight.

Here, I’ll take care of that, Aunt Jude said, You go change and shower. Are you all right?

Kyleah mumbled that she was fine and limped to the bathroom. As warm water ran over her aching body, she realized just how much she’d grown to love Jude Holcomb since she’d come here six years ago. I was so scared to let myself love anyone, she remembered, laughing at herself. I really believed that if I loved them, they’d disappear—and that hurt too much to bear.

She sighed remembering the day she’d first arrived at this home. She was just a skinny little six-year-old, crying over the news that she’d never go back to her school or see her favorite teacher or her best friend. She remembered the exact moment that she made up her mind to keep her distance and not let anyone get close to her or to let herself care about anyone—ever again. It was when Mrs. Fowler, who’d been a total stranger at the time, told her, You will love it here, Kyleah. There are other children to play with, and the Holcombs are very nice people.

Kyleah had immediately stopped crying. Mrs. Fowler probably thought her words had consoled Kyleah. How could she have seen that a wall had come down inside her mind? A wall she could hide behind. A wall fortified with the unspoken words, Oh no I won’t! I’ll hate it, and they’ll hate me just like everyone else—and I won’t care!

Kyleah turned off the water and grabbed a towel, suddenly feeling very sorry for the little girl she once was. No wonder she’d felt that way. Life had taught her that love hurts. A subtle fear that it would happen again rose in her chest as she remembered the hard lessons of the past.

The first lesson came when she was four and her father left, taking her twin brother with him. She’d never seen them again, and she didn’t know if they were alive or dead. A year later, Mom left her by quietly dying and leaving it to strangers to ship her by airplane from Montana to Kansas. She was met by grandparents she didn’t know. They were distant, strict, and cold. They sent her to kindergarten, something her mother had neglected to do. At school, she made friends and fell in love with a kind teacher—only to be forced to leave the school, and never see her friends and teacher again when her grandparents decided to get rid of her.

That’s how Kyleah thought of it. They just didn’t want her, so they moved to a retirement home, sending Kyleah to this farm in the country, a place filled with strangers—kids moving through the foster-care system, kids she would never see again when