Say No More

by Sasson, Gemini

  Lise busied herself packing Bernadette’s things away in her overnight bag. The nurse finally came in, pushing a wheelchair.

  “Hospital policy, I’m afraid,” the nurse said.

  Wrapping her arms around me, Lise gently lowered me to the floor. “I’m sure she won’t mind.”

  The nurse bent down, ran her hand over my spine. “Is this the dog?”

  “It is.”

  “She’s an angel. Lucky for you she was there when you needed her. She’s yours, I take it?”

  The bathroom door popped open and the nurse stood up to help Bernadette to the wheelchair.

  Bernadette ran her fingers over the chrome spokes as she settled in for the ride. “My, my, my. Sure would love to have one of these fancy chariots to wheel myself around in, maybe even a motorized one, but I don’t think it’d fit through the doors in my little cracker box house.” The nurse flipped the foot rests down for her, then spread a blanket across her lap. “Can you hoof it out of here, honey? Everyone’s been absolutely lovely, but I’m aching to get back to familiar surroundings.” Then aside to Lise, “Plus, the menu leaves a little to be desired. If you don’t mind me making a call, I’ll spring for a deluxe from Romeo’s Pizzeria.”

  “Sounds great.” Lise snapped my leash on and gathered up the last of Bernadette’s things. “I’ll loan you my cell when we get to the car. I’m pretty sure Hunter has dialed that number half a dozen times since we rolled into town.”

  We fell into step beside the nurse as she wheeled Bernadette down the corridor. Bernadette craned her neck to gaze into every doorway, waving and shouting to the other patients, “I’m going home. Get well! Come visit me at the library.” If she’d meant to slip out unnoticed, she was doing a poor job of it.

  When we got to the outer lobby, Lise and I fetched the car. I took my place in the back seat, my nose prints generously displayed on the window behind the front passenger seat. Once Bernadette was in the car and the call made to the pizza place, Lise glanced at Bernadette several times before speaking.

  “Thanks, for everything. For going to get Halo after the vet up north called you. For taking care of her. For calling me ... I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “Sweetheart.” Bernadette laid a hand on her forearm. “There are some things in life you don’t keep score over. This is one of them. There’s plenty of folks, like me, who are nice just because, well, because we understand that everyone needs a little help now and then.”

  Lise turned the key and pulled the shifter into ‘drive’. We rolled slowly through the parking lot, easing over each speed bump. “Yeah, um ... I’ve been thinking. Provided the paperwork all clears with the bank for the farm — and by the way, I still don’t think it’s enough — then I was —”

  “It’s more than enough. I’ve already talked to my cousin Garrett’s son. He’s a contractor. He said there’d even be enough left over for a few computers and reading program software for the children with the money that’s been set aside for the library. They’re going to name the new wing ‘The Cecil Penewit Center’.” Turning her head aside, she pretended to look down the street as the car came to the parking lot exit.

  “Good, I felt like I was taking advantage of the situation.”

  Bernadette sniffed. I couldn’t tell whether it was her allergies or because she was getting emotional. “Well, you’re not. But what were you going to say?”

  The turn signal clicked a dozen times before Lise pulled out into the nearly empty street. “I have enough extra money to add on to the house. I was thinking a couple of bigger bedrooms and an office, maybe. I start my job as head of the new physical therapy place downtown next week and what with my hours and all, it occurred to me that —”

  “I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m not getting any younger.”

  “I was wondering if you’d move in with us once the addition is complete? I know you have grandkids of your own, but I need someone to look after Hunter and Cammie until I can get off work every day.”

  Slowly, Bernadette turned her head back. She looked very serious, maybe even a little sad. “My grandkids are all either grown or live far away.” Then, a smile spread across her face. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than watch your two young ones grow up.”

  Lise breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, because I was afraid you’d say no. Life has been so crazy lately. I never know what’s going to happen next.”

  “I felt like that when I was your age. And then I kind of figured that things usually turn out just like they’re supposed to. You gotta believe” — she turned her eyes heavenward — “that someone’s looking out for you. Takes a lot of weight off your shoulders.”

  “Sure felt like that yesterday, didn’t it?”

  “Mm-hmm, sure did. But yesterday, it was Halo looking out for us.”

  “Cam was right about her. He said she was ‘the one’, that she was very special.”

  “I’d say he knew what he was talking about then.”

  Lise gazed at me in the rearview mirror. Her eyes crinkled. “You know, if she could talk, I’m sure she’d have a lot to tell us.”

  You don’t know the half of it.

  chapter 31

  I hadn’t seen Cam or Cecil’s ghosts for years now. I’d like to think they were still here, watching over us all, but that they’d just run out of important things to say. Things we needed to hear.

  Lise still flipped through the old photo album on days when she was alone in the house, which wasn’t often, given how full the place was. She’d always pause on that picture of young Cam in his fancy cowboy hat, showing his prize steer, and say how much Hunter looked like him. Her wedding picture with Cam and another with the two of them and Hunter as a four-year old hung in the hallway at the very end, near the children’s rooms. There was also one of Brad and his first wife — she’d died of pneumonia a few years before he met Lise. When the addition was done and she was debating which pictures to put up, Brad had insisted she include some of Cam. He and Lise were engaged by then, but he told her it was important to remember the people we once loved. Not to lament that they were gone, but to carry forward with all the wonderful ways their love affected us.

  I couldn’t have said it better myself.

  Brad and Lise had their own child now. Emily was a precocious second-grader at Faderville Elementary. Like her big brother Hunter, she loved learning about animals. There was barely room on her bed for her to sleep, what with all the stuffed animals piled around her. How she emulated her big brother, followed him around during chores before he left for college. Every other day, she asked either Lise or Bernadette when he was coming home.

  He was home now. Summer break. He spent most days riding around in a pickup truck with old Doc Samuels, doing farm calls, because he was going to be a veterinarian when he finished school, maybe even take over Doc Samuels’ practice someday.

  Today, though, Hunter had taken off from work. He was lying on the kitchen floor, squeezing my paw lightly every time I winced. His touch helped. At least until the next knife of pain stabbed deep in my belly, twisting my insides, turning them inside out. Every time that happened, my vision went all blurry. Shapes blended, went dark. Sounds came to me muffled, as if I were listening underwater.

  We’d just celebrated my fifteenth birthday a few days ago. They took my picture. Sang to me. Then Bernadette served me a plate of bacon bits and scrambled eggs. Swallowing was difficult. I gagged halfway through, unable to keep them down.

  It had gotten harder and harder to hang on. Not so much like I was being pushed toward death, but more like I was being pulled toward some other place. A better place. Although I found it hard to believe there was anything better than the life I’d lived. That may seem an odd thing to say, considering all I’d been through. But it was Ned Hanson’s cruelty that made me appreciate Cecil’s kindness even more. And Tucker Kratz’s selfishness only served to highlight Bernadette’s caring nature and the love of Lise and her fam
ily.

  If only Ned and Tucker understood how powerful love like that was ...

  Hunter ran his hand down my foreleg. Spoke to me. The words sounded tinny, faraway. Something about sheep and playing ball, maybe.

  He’d grown so tall, so strong. He was still quiet. Not in a shy way, but thoughtful, soft-spoken, contemplative. Animals were so easily calmed by his presence. He only had to glance at them, extend his hand and murmur a few words, and they were won over.

  Lise still fretted about him, though. And for good reason. Twice since they’d come back to Faderville to live, he’d collapsed and been taken to the hospital. Last year, his heart had stopped completely. They revived him at the hospital and when he came home following his surgery, there was something different about him. Something very ... tranquil.

  You’d think dying like that would have made him afraid that it would happen again, but if anything he seemed less so.

  “I’ve seen it, Halo,” he had told me. “The Other Side.” His eyes lit up, as if he were dreaming of visiting a faraway galaxy. At the time, we were sitting alone together on a hill overlooking the small flock of sheep that Lise kept. He plucked a yellow-faced dandelion from beside him and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger. “Dad was there. Grandpa Ray, too.”

  Lying back in the grass, he squinted into the sunlight. “They told me to go back.”

  And that was all he ever said about it.

  —o00o—

  The family was gathered in Hunter’s bedroom, watching over me. I’d slept here ever since the new addition was completed, even when Hunter was away at school. In fact, I’d been allowed in any room I wanted to go in, but when it was time to go to sleep, I always chose this one. Because my place was beside Hunter. And when he wasn’t here, I was waiting for him.

  Brad stood just outside the doorway, rubbing Lise’s shoulders. Cammie and Emily sat on the edge of the bed, holding each other tight, tears streaming down their cheeks. Tinker, no longer a kitten, was curled up in Emily’s lap, looking unconcerned and all-important, as cats always do.

  Behind them, Bernadette gripped the handles of her walker. “Poor girl. She must be in so much pain. I can’t imagine ... Well, I can, in a way.”

  “Honey.” Lise came to Hunter, knelt beside him. “The meds don’t seem to be working anymore. Do you want me to call Doc Samuels?”

  For a while, he acted like he didn’t hear her. He just kept on stroking my paw, his eyes on my face. Finally, “I don’t think you need to.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at Brad. He shook his head, then motioned her out of the room.

  “Come on, girls.” Lise rose, held her arms out. “Let’s leave them alone.”

  Bernadette hobbled out of the room behind them. Just as they got to the door, Cammie turned around and rushed back to me.

  As she scooched down to kiss me, a single tear dripped onto my nose and slid down my muzzle. Her whispered breath tickled my whiskers. “Say ‘hi’ to my daddy when you see him. Tell him I love him, even though I never got to meet him.”

  I will. Soon.

  She disappeared as a thickening fog swirled around her.

  My breathing grew fainter. The whiteness of the fog grew brighter. Like sunlight glinting off snow.

  I could barely keep my eyes open. I saw Hunter’s arms reach out, curve around me. By the way the room moved around us, I knew he was lifting me up, even though I couldn’t feel it.

  I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore.

  But I felt the warmth flowing from his chest and arms through my body, like a tide washing over me, filling me.

  The pictures in the hallway bounced past. The back door swung open. High, cottony clouds streaked across a glass-blue sky, dotted with a flock of grackles, their iridescent blues and greens flashing in the midday sun.

  He laid me in the shade of a catalpa tree. From high up in the branches, I heard the faint chatter of squirrels. I had stopped stalking them years ago, although they had never stopped mocking me. I no longer cared. That was the glory of growing old. Small things that used to drive you crazy just didn’t matter anymore.

  Only love mattered.

  Hunter sat beside me, pulled me gently to him, and lifted my head into his lap, so I could see the hills, green as the greenest green that ever was, one last time before I closed my eyes again.

  And there on the hills, the sheep were all scattered about. Eating, as always.

  epilogue

  I see him!

  My heart is ten sizes too big for my chest. It thumps so loudly that for a few moments I can’t even hear him call my name.

  Squatting down halfway across the bridge, Hunter throws his arms wide. He looks older than I remember. Maybe in his thirties, possibly early forties. His shoulders are broader and his chin and cheeks are covered with light scruff, like he’s been too busy to shave for a couple of days.

  I run to him. Great, bounding strides, the tall grass whipping across my forelegs as I leap high. My body is light as air. Gems of light sparkle in the dawn sun’s corona, throwing spears of gold across the sky. Bands of fiery orange and pink streak above the horizon.

  I near the banks of the river. The water, deep and wide, is so clear I can see all the way to the bottom. At the edge, I glimpse my reflection. Gone are the traces of gray around my muzzle, the cloudiness in my eyes. Ripples distort my image and I look up. He’s still there. This is real.

  Shaking his head, Hunter smiles faintly.

  Curious, I remain where I am. “What is it?”

  “There are dogs here?”

  “In heaven? Of course there are. Did you ever doubt it?”

  “I guess I just never thought about it. But I’m glad.” Rising, he shoves his hands in his pockets, the same way he always did. A white mist curls around his legs, making it look as though he’s standing on a cloud above me. “I saw you in a dream once, Halo. You were right beside me. I reached down, touched your head. Felt your fur beneath my fingers. Like you were really there.”

  “I was there. I knew you were sad, so I had to let you know I was okay.” I move onto the bridge, take one step, and then another. My toenails click on the planks as I climb the arch of the structure, bands of yellow and red and violet stretching onward beneath me.

  “Halo,” a deep voice calls from behind me, “come here.”

  “Dad?” Hunter says.

  I stop, look back.

  Cam waves at his son. But he doesn’t approach him. He’s wearing worn jeans and a white T-shirt beneath an untucked blue plaid shirt, like he’s ready to go to work on the farm. Bit lies next to him, her body stretched out to warm in the morning sun.

  “It’s not your time,” Cam says to Hunter.

  “I just needed to know —”

  More firmly, “You have to go back.”

  “Why?” The joy fades from Hunter’s face. “You tell me that every time. Why can’t I be here, with you?”

  “Because you still have work to do. They’re relying on you.”

  “Who is? What work? I don’t understand.” Creases of frustration form on Hunter’s forehead. He clenches his fists at his sides.

  “You will. You just have to trust me.”

  “But ... I’m not afraid to die.” Hunter’s voice grows quieter, less insistent. “I’ve been ready my whole life.”

  “I know you are.” On the hill behind Cam, the leaves of the great oak rustle in the lightest of breezes. “But maybe heaven’s not ready for you.”

  A spark of reluctant understanding flickers in Hunter’s pupils. There’s no arguing the point, he knows. More than once, I’d flirted with death, too, only to find out that it wasn’t yet my time.

  Hunter starts back over the bridge, away from me. The joy that had seized me a minute ago dampens.

  I take a few more steps. “Hunter?”

  He looks at me. “Yes?”

  “When someone dies, they never stop loving you. Tell everyone that. Tell them we’re waiting at the bridge, that we’l
l see each other again.”

  Several moments pass as he looks down at his feet. Then he raises his eyes. “It’s so hard to wait.”

  If only I could make him understand that a year there is only a day here.

  His eyes glisten with tears. He fights to hold them back. “It hurts not to have you with me anymore.”

  I understand all too well. When Cam died, my life turned upside down. When Bit was poisoned, I wanted to die, too. And when Cecil departed, a dull ache filled my chest. But always, always there had been someone else to love, to comfort, to discover new joys with. Sometimes, it just took awhile to figure out who.

  “The hurt is trying to tell you something,” I say.

  “Tell me what?”

  “That you still have love to share.”

  He glances toward the great oak, then out at the slowly flowing river. “Will the hurt go away then? I mean, if I find somebody ... another dog, even?”

  “Mostly. But the love ... the love only grows bigger each time you spread it around. And when you come here for good — when it’s time — you get to experience all that love all over again.”

  He says nothing at first. I wonder if he doesn’t believe me. Then he nods. “I suppose that’s worth waiting for then, huh?”

  “It is.” I smile at him. And yes, dogs do smile.

  “Goodbye, Halo.” He waves at me. “But not forever, right?”

  “The only ‘forever’ is in this place. And here ... there are no goodbyes.”

  author’s note

  Halo is many dogs — a compilation of all those I have ever raised or trustingly sent off to new homes. She is the shy dog who we thought had run away, only to discover her a day later, shivering and tucked in a hole she had burrowed beneath our sidewalk, afraid to come out for fear of being reprimanded for her excavations. She is the brave and protective dog who came to my rescue when another dog bit me in a rage and wouldn’t let go, the same one who wouldn’t leave my bedside for two days as I recovered from my stitching up. She is the busy, thinking dog who was returned to us after being left alone in a room by herself at a young age for hours and who alleviated her boredom by ripping out drywall and starting on the electrical wires. She is the dog who was abandoned in an outdoor kennel as winter approached and visited by concerned neighbors only once a day when the owner suddenly moved to another town to care for her elderly mother without making long term plans for the animals she had collected over the years.