Dust to Dust Read Free Page B

Melanie, it was like having a big family, but she hated being a third wheel, and it did sometimes feel that way when she was back home.
    California had become her place. She was used to standing on her own here, at least on a day-to-day basis.
    Tonight was supposed to have been just a nice evening out. Maggie had a houseful of children and a boutique that was thriving. Melanie’s life was much easier in one sense—no children—but she was extremely proud to be considered one of the finest trainers in the country now, and she traveled extensively to train show dogs, working dogs and just plain pet dogs. She had an affinity for all animals, not just dogs, and she had always seemed to have a special gift for working with them, from hamsters to horses. Training the unruly German shepherds of an A-list movie star had firstbrought her out here, and she had been determined to carve out a life for herself.
    So far, it had been a fine life. And now and then she got really lucky and her friends came out to see her.
    She had found her niche. She had a great job. She loved the animals she worked with, and they loved her.
    In her own mind, at least, she didn’t do half so well with most human beings. She was lucky to have very good friends despite that, though she wasn’t quite certain she considered all of them to be human beings. Maggie, however, was definitely very human.
    Maggie’s home had always been New Orleans, but at least four times a year she took a much-needed break and traveled out to L.A. to spend a few days with Melanie. Her husband, Sean, was a great guy, a police lieutenant working the French Quarter, and though he was very busy himself, he was also a great father. His day job was very important to the Alliance, but he enjoyed getting quality time to bond with his brood when Maggie headed west.
    Sometimes a few of Melanie’s other friends joined them when they got together, but tonight it was just the two of them, and Melanie was glad of that.
    If she hadn’t already felt completely unnerved by the drawings, her friend’s reaction would have alerted her that something weird was going on. Maggie was taking the drawings very seriously; Melanie could tell by the way her face had drawn taut and her eyes had darkened.
    And Maggie always knew these things.
    Maggie was a beautiful woman, with deep auburn hair and green eyes; she was down-to-earth and one ofthe most socially conscious people Melanie had ever met. She adored her own four children and especially loved five-year-olds. They were perfect people then, she had told Melanie once. Old enough to go potty, dress themselves and eat fairly neatly, but too young to have learned hatred or prejudice, and still willing to believe in the word of the adults around them.
    â€œWhat about six-year-olds?” Melanie had asked her once.
    â€œBy that age they start questioning everything you say,” Maggie had warned her.
    Dogs to Melanie were like five-year-olds to Maggie. They offered up unconditional love. Many were incredibly bright. Most wanted to learn.
    Bad dogs, she believed, were like most bad children: created by those around them. But then, that was a personal opinion.
    And she was very aware that she was thinking about dogs and children because she was so upset that she had suddenly become an artist.
    â€œHow curious,” Maggie said suddenly.
    â€œWell, yes, we’ve established that,” Mel said.
    Maggie flashed her a smile before growing somber once again. “Think about it. You drew a waterfall. Water. The wind. Blowing wind—or air. Fire. And what seems to be an earthquake. Earth, wind, fire and water.”
    â€œRemember Earth, Wind and Fire? Great group,” Melanie said.
    Maggie flashed her a concerned frown.
    â€œMel…” she began, then paused.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhat the hell is that?” Maggie asked suddenly.
    â€œWhat?” Melanie asked.
    â€œCan’t you feel it?”