Maybe one day it would for him too.
He passed the bank, the little post office, and headed towards where they’d turn and go over the humpback bridge. It was as they got closer that there was enough light from the nearby streetlamps to see a figure on the bridge lift something that looked like a stick in the air as if she was going to throw it.
That was it. While Branston was obedient, he was still a dog, after all, and at the sight of a potential stick, off he went.
Nate swore. He broke into a run. ‘Branston!’
He rounded the corner and while Branston emitted a low growl, a woman bent over in front of him, her thick, chunky knit cardigan almost down to her knees flapping around her and getting in her way as she engaged with his dog in what could only be described as a tug of war over what was definitely a stick.
Nate held back before commenting. The battle was a bit of fun to watch. ‘He’ll win, you know,’ he said eventually.
The woman turned and as she did, must have lessened her grip, because Branston triumphantly ran towards Nate, stick in his mouth.
Nate bent down to stroke Branston as he obediently came to his master’s side. To him, this would’ve been nothing more than a game, but when Nate looked up, the woman seemed upset. ‘Are you all right?’ She said nothing. ‘It’s only a game,’ he tried to joke.
She didn’t say anything, but her eyes filled with more tears. Shit. He wasn’t great with women, he’d been told by one he didn’t have an emotional bone in his body. He wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but he knew how easy it was to say the wrong thing when emotions were involved. He walked closer, took a clean tissue from his pocket and handed it to her.
Her voice wobbled when she thanked him and added, ‘Don’t mind me, I just got a bit emotional standing here. It brings back memories, that’s all. And I know it’s only a game…’
Branston trotted up to her as if he understood and Nate muttered, ‘I’ll be damned,’ when the dog dropped the stick at her feet.
That got a laugh as she crouched down and put her face close to Branston’s, her hands fussing his cheeks, not worrying that she didn’t know the dog. ‘What’s his name?’ She looked up at Nate. She had glossy, mahogany-coloured hair in a slightly off-centre parting and rich, dark-brown eyes almost the same colour.
He was momentarily lost for words. ‘Branston,’ he managed. She’d obviously been oblivious to Nate calling him moments ago.
She focused her attentions back on the dog. ‘Well, hello, Branston. I’d be happy to throw a stick for you, but I think the green is a much better place to be playing than here near the road.’
‘What were you doing, anyway? It’s kind of a bit dark to be throwing sticks.’
She stood up tall again, stick in hand, Branston looking up at her then down at the stick as though waiting for action. ‘I can see well enough with the streetlamps. And I was playing Poohsticks. Not really the best time, but I just felt like it. It was hard to resist when there was a stick in my path.’ When she smiled, it sent all kinds of sensations fizzing through his body.
‘Wait a minute, did you say poo sticks?’ He pulled a face. He hoped Branston didn’t have any of the remnants around his mouth. ‘That’s kind of disgusting.’
She began to laugh. ‘Pooh with an H, as in Winnie the Pooh.’
He shook his head. ‘Still don’t get it.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ He liked the way she didn’t know him and yet talked to him as though she did.
‘You’ve never heard of it?’
‘Can’t say I have. Tell me more.’ He wanted to keep her talking, this woman he’d met quite unexpectedly.
‘You can play Poohsticks from any bridge over running water, so this location is perfect. Each player has to drop a stick on the upstream side of the bridge and whoever’s stick first appears on the downstream side wins the game.’
‘Neat.’
She frowned. ‘Are you making fun of me?’
‘Not at all, promise. So can I play?’
‘Now?’
‘Why not?’
She looked around. ‘Well, it’s a bit dark to find another stick but how about you give it a go with this one we have?’
