Pulling into the garage just as the bright green numbers of the digital clock on the dashboard changed to twelve o’clock midnight, Mimi breathed a sigh of relief when the large aluminum door hit the concrete, leaving the outside world behind. Closing her eyes and letting her head fall back, the young psychiatrist enjoyed the peace and quiet that can only come from being completely, blessedly alone.
Her dreams, or dream to be more exact, the same one she’d been having every night since making a wish in the fountain, gently flowed through her mind as she hummed the tune of the song that had been playing when she’d danced with her very own Prince Charming. Once again, she felt the cool breeze as he led her onto the terrace, bathed in the fragrant aroma of fresh flowers, and became mesmerized by her escort’s handsome features highlighted by the glow of the full moon above.
Adrift in her dream world, content to float on the clouds of hallowed escape comes from completely giving one’s self over to a fantasy, Mimi’s eyes flew open and she jumped forward in her seat, bumping the horn on the steering wheel and hitting her head on the visor above.
“Ow!” She yelled, rubbing her aching head. “What the hell?”
The echo of the car horn still bouncing off the block walls of the garage combined with the snarls and barks of the next-door neighbor’s dog gave Mimi the perfectly dreadful lead-in to a good old-fashioned migraine.
“The Murphys must’ve forgotten to let Corky in,” she mused, opening the door and climbing out of her car. Heading for the side exit, Mimi stepped outside, opened the gate connecting her yard to her neighbor’s, and called, “Come here, Corky. Come to Mimi, you silly boy.” Making the kissy noise, she added, “Quiet, Corky,” like Carla Murphy had instructed and walked toward the still growling dog.
She could feel a combination of anger and excitement racing through the pup as she knelt, patted her knee, and once again called him to her. “Come on, Corkster. Come see Mimi.”
Turning his head side-to-side, looking at Mimi and wagging his tail then back at the thick hedges at the side of his yard to growl, Corky reminded her of a spectator at a tennis match, his head bobbing back and forth to keep up with all the action. After a few seconds more, the Boxer/Chow mix the Murphy’s rescued from the ASPCA nearly ten years ago, finally gave in and came running to her. Licking her hand and rolling on his back to have his tummy rubbed, Mimi swore the goofy dog was smiling.
“You’re such a silly boy,” she cooed. “What were you barking at? Huh, Corky? What do you think is out there?” Petting under his chin, she added, “You’re gonna have the whole neighborhood awake. Well, everyone except your mommy and daddy,” she chuckled. “They probably have their hearing aids turned off.”
Standing up, Mimi pulled the cell phone from her coat pocket, pressed a button on the screen, and turned on the flashlight. Shining the beam along the tall greenery, she searched for what had upset the pup, with the hopes it wasn’t anything more than a racoon looking to raid the garbage cans.
Giving up after her third pass, she turned back to Corky and sighed. “Well, I can’t find anything, Mr. Barky Pants.” Patting her thigh, she called, “Come on, I’ll let you in. It’s way past your bedtime.”
Approaching the Murphy’s back door, taking the keys from her pocket, Mimi’s fingers had just touched the cool metal as the sound of dried leaves cracking under a heavy foot stole the breath from her lungs. Standing as still as a statue while Corky snarled and sped toward the sound, Mimi counted to three before slowly turning around.
Once again shining the light of her phone into the darkness, Mimi leaned forward, squinting in an attempt to discern what was real and what was shadow. Scanning the landscape, her eyes landed on Corky, his tawny-colored fur a beacon against the dark green of the grass and the elongated images cast by moonbeams shining through the shrubs. Pawing at the ground, the dog flung clumps of dirt and grass between his hind legs before throwing back his head and howling like the coyotes Mimi had heard in the desert.
Timidly sliding her foot off the first step and then the other, Mimi carefully placed one foot in front of the other, calling out in the sternest voice she could muster, “Who’s there? Show yourself!”
Her shout caused Corky to once again bay at the moon, as if he, too, was telling the intruder to reveal himself. Creeping forward, her arm outstretched with her phone acting as a shield of light, Mimi opened her mouth to issue another warning but instead screamed at the top of her lungs when a voice shouted, “Who’s out there? I’ve got a shotgun and I know how to use it.”
Tripping over her own feet, the soles of her shoes slippery from the dew on the grass, Mimi found herself falling forward as she did a rapidly spinning about-face. Falling face first toward a pile of soil for the Murphy’s garden, visions of a broken nose and two black eyes flying through her mind, Mimi could only close her eyes and hold her breath.
Momentarily blinded by the huge lights flooding the yard with a blinding, white glare, and adding a whole new level of discomfort to her present catastrophe, Mimi toppled to the ground, her arms flailing, her phone flying, and a shriek of, “Don’t shoot, Mr. Murphy!” flying from her mouth.
Throwing her hands out a split second before she hit the dirt, Mimi narrowly missed having a mouthful of top soil as she groaned, “It’s me, Mimi.”
“Mimi?” The elderly gentleman’s gravelly voice broke through the dog’s barking. “What are you doing out there at this hour?” Right before ordering, “Quiet, Corky. Hush it up.”
With the canine’s bark still echoing in her ears, Mimi rolled onto her back as the screen door behind her opened then immediately slammed shut. Wheezing, still trying to catch her breath, she coughed, “C-Corky was-s out.” Stopping to take a gulp of fresh air, she added, “I…I w-was t-trying to p-put him in.”
Rapidly blinking her eyes, trying to focus around the black dots dancing before her, Mimi pushed up to a sitting position just as Ralph Murphy appeared at her side, shot gun in hand, and asked, “You okay, girlie?” Reaching with his free hand, he nodded. “Come on, let me help ya’ up.”
Gladly taking his outstretched fingers, Mimi held tight as the retired Army Colonel pulled her to her feet and looking to his dog commanded, “Come, Corky.” Then looking at her asked, “You sure you’re all right?”
Wiping the dirt and grass from her long beige trench coat, Mimi blew out a breath and explained, “Yes, sir. I’m fine.” She looked to the side and spotted her phone. Walking toward the device, she went on, “I’d just gotten home and Corky started barking. I figured he’d unlocked his doggy door again, so I came to put him back in the house.”
Bending down, she picked up her phone, wiped the screen on her pants leg, turned and continued as she walked back toward Mr. Murphy and his furry friend. “I was just about to unlock the back door when I heard something that sounded like a footstep just over there.” She pointed to the far corner of the yard. “The Corkster heard it, too, because he took off like a flash, snarling and howling.”
She knelt and scratched under the dog’s chin. “And well,” she chuckled, “you know the rest.”
Glancing over his shoulder before giving Mimi a single nod, Mr. Murphy stated, in his usual matter-of-fact way, “Thank you, Mimi. I’ll be sure Corky’s door is locked tight and set the alarm.” Pointing toward her home, he added, “You need to get in out of the cool air, young lady. I’ll watch until you’re inside.” He patted the butt on the gun hanging over his forearm. “Thank you, again.”
“You are very welcome,” Mimi smiled, giving Corky another pet before standing up and heading toward her house.
Walking through the side door of the garage, she turned and waved. “Thank you, Mr. Murphy. Take care. Tell Carla I said hello.”
“I sure will. See you soon,” he answered as Mimi shut and locked the door.
Walking around the hood of her car, the young woman got her briefcase from the backseat and shuffled into the house. Dropping everything on the kitchen table and eagerly shedding her coat, which landed haphazardly on the back of the closest chair, Mimi crossed the room, turned on the tap, grabbed a glass from the cupboard, and filled it nearly to the rim.
Drinking it down in one gulp, she stared out the window, glass still in her grip as she reviewed the events of the evening. Turning to put her cup in the dishwasher, Mimi stopped dead when a hand came over her mouth, yanking her back against a brick wall of muscle and heat.
Holding her breath, afraid to breathe, the hair at the back of her neck stood on end and goose bumps covered her body as soft, warm lips touched her ear and a low rumbled whisper commanded, “Do not scream. I will not hurt you.”
Then just like all the leading women in every old movie she’d ever watched with her mom and Lillie, Mimi fainted.
Not, my finest hour…