by Anne Hope
“So, bud,” Martin said after a short pause, “are you still a fiend for video games?”
Noah’s belligerent expression vanished, replaced by excitement. “What do you think?”
Martin laughed. “Then I’m sure you’re gonna love what I’ve got in my car for you.”
The boy rocketed to his feet. “DSI?”
As if the kid needed another handheld device he could hide under his sheets.
“Not exactly. Come take a look.” Noah needed no further incentive to follow his uncle outside.
When they returned a few minutes later, Noah had his hands wrapped around a brand new video game. “Look.” He showed Zach the game. “Uncle Martin got me G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra for PlayStation 3!”
Great. Now the kid would spend the next five hours glued to the television set. “Are you old enough to play that game?” he asked, since he was the only responsible adult in the room.
“You’re never too young for G.I. Joe.” Martin gave Noah a playful punch on the arm. Noah beamed.
Zach shook his head and swallowed a grunt. This was going to be a very long afternoon.
In line with his thoughts, the clock chimed the hour. The pendulum swung on well-oiled hinges as the small hand fell to rest upon the one. Kristen’s dance class had ended two hours ago. The python tightened its hold on him, baring hungry fangs.
What the hell was keeping Becca?
There was a surefire way to brighten a girl’s mood when she was feeling down, and Rebecca knew exactly what that was—shopping. Coolidge Corner, located at the intersection of Harvard and Beacon, was home to many small independent boutiques and retail chain stores. So instead of heading home after the fiasco at The Movement and Dance Studio, she decided to take Kristen for a little stroll down Harvard Street. They stopped at a coffee shop and fortified themselves with some delicious beverages—cold coffee for Rebecca, juice for Kristen—then the marathon was on.
They visited store after store, as zealous in their quest as any crusader, attacking the racks with unmasked gusto. Rebecca purchased the most adorable outfit for Kristen, an embroidered jean skirt with a matching blouse and a pair of colorful tights. She’d never realized what an incredible selection stores boasted for girls. She usually avoided the children’s section with a passion that bordered on obsession. The mere sight of these doll-like outfits, with their frilly socks and miniature hats, displayed on mannequins or hangers, sent a shrill ache resonating through her. Whenever she happened to cross one of these displays, she quickly averted her gaze, hoping to spare herself the pain.
Today, however, she welcomed the quiet throb in her chest that told her she still had the capacity to feel. It wasn’t nearly as sharp as it had once been, just a mild flutter of longing overshadowed by excitement. After she finished shopping for Kristen, she selected a one-piece jumpsuit for Will and a pair of shorts and a T-shirt for Noah. With the packages safely secured in her arms and Kristen’s small hand buried in hers, she walked into the blinding bright day, feeling surprisingly invigorated. In some small way she’d faced one of her demons today and won. She’d looked directly into its slime-green eyes and successfully stared it into submission.
“Aunt Becca,” Kristen whispered timidly, “can we do this every Saturday instead of going to dance class?”
Rebecca laughed. “You betcha, kiddo.” She glanced at her watch. It was just shy of one in the afternoon. “How about we stop for lunch?” she suggested. “You must be starving. I know I am.”
Kristen nodded emphatically. “Can I have a chocolate milkshake?”
“Sure, but only if you have some food to go with it.”
They stopped at the Coolidge Corner Clubhouse, a sports bar with a diverse menu and a laid-back ambience. Colorful sports photos, cartoons and posters of all sizes decorated the walls. Twenty strategically placed LCD screens displayed a Celtics game. A group of college jocks huddled in a distant corner, cheering their idols on. Every so often a whoop of pleasure rent the air, sometimes closely followed by cries of indignation and disgruntled boos.
They sat at a small wooden table, Kristen curiously watching one of the screens as Rebecca perused the menu. Practically every dish was named after a famous figure. She ended up ordering the Wade Bogg, a salad topped with teriyaki chicken. Kristen decided to play it safe and chose the grilled-cheese sandwich with a side order of fries, and a chocolate milkshake, of course.
They ate in companionable silence, a temporary escape from the dark reality that had befallen them. For a few short hours they allowed pure fun to add balm to their internal bruises, to dull the pain and soothe their spirits.
It was nearly two when they started their long trek back to the car. Along the way Rebecca noticed Kristen was no longer following her and glanced back. The girl stood staring through the window of a pet shop. From the other side of the glass, a beagle saluted her with a lolling tongue and an overactive tail. Kristen was mesmerized.
“Can we go in and see it?” she begged, adopting a puppy-dog look that would have made any canine proud.
Rebecca hesitated. On some instinctive level she knew this meant trouble. Still, she didn’t have the heart to disappoint the child. “Only for a few minutes,” she said. Zach was probably starting to worry, and she couldn’t even call to appease him because she’d forgotten to charge her cell phone last night.
Once inside, the beagle pulled every trick in the book. Rebecca wondered if the animal had been trained to lure and seduce or if it came naturally to the breed. He sprinkled wet kisses over Kristen’s hand, hopped, rolled and drooled with absolute joy. Pleading brown eyes sparkled with devotion as he wagged his tail like a windshield wiper on overdrive.
“Would you like to hold him?” the saleslady asked.
Rebecca began to shake her head, but Kristen flashed the most radiant smile. “Can I?”
Despite her better judgment, Rebecca reluctantly nodded.
As soon as the saleslady placed the puppy in Kristen’s arms, any hope of walking out of this store empty-handed turned to cinders and floated away on the nonexistent wind. The beagle slapped Kristen’s face with a long wet tongue while it quaked, thrilled by the embrace. Kristen giggled and beamed with the kind of happiness that had died along with her parents. Rebecca’s resolve crumbled.
“If you’re interested,” the sly, underhanded, totally manipulative saleslady told her, “I can tell you about the sale we’re having this week.”
“Sure,” she heard herself say. “I’d love to hear all about it.”
Martin prattled on for a good hour before he realized he had better things to do than hang out at suburb central. He ruffled Noah’s hair, flashed Will another phony grin, then pranced out the door.
Zach, happy to be left alone with his anxiety, decided to try Becca’s cell phone one more time…and got her voice mail again. He cursed. Where the hell had the woman gone?
He dialed The Movement and Dance Studio—Lindsay had penned the number in the address book next to the kitchen phone—and promptly got an earful from Ms. Orloff. Apparently, Becca had disrupted her class by dragging Kristen off halfway through the lesson. Ms. Orloff’s knickers were in an awful twist. Never before had something like this happened at her dance studio. She’d been thoroughly embarrassed in front of all her clients, feared the reputation of her school had suffered irreparable damage.
He tried his best to appease her, but there was no consoling the woman. She ended the call by emphatically stating that she never wanted to see Kristen back there again, and she was perfectly willing to reimburse them their fees to ensure that she didn’t.
Zach hung up the phone and filled his lungs with a badly needed dose of oxygen. Becca would always be Becca. She was impulsive, more emotional than rational and loyal to a fault. Although her approach often lacked finesse, her heart was always in the right place. So if Becca had pulled Kristen out of class, he was willing to bet a kidney she’d had a darn good reason to do it.
Still, he was
no closer to answering the question that had harassed him for hours. If the girls had left The Movement and Dance Studio early, why weren’t they home yet?
Something crashed in the living room, punctuated by Noah’s outraged cry. Zach rushed to see what all the fuss was about and found Will surrounded by broken glass. It looked like he’d dropped a picture frame.
Noah kneeled beside his brother, cradling the photograph like some precious artifact. “He broke it,” he spat. Beneath thick layers of anger, pain trembled. “It’s ruined now.”
Zach swept Will into his arms before the toddler could cut himself. The picture was a family snapshot. From the looks of it, his sister had been pregnant with Will when it was taken. ”We’ll just get a new frame,” he told his eldest nephew.
“Won’t make a difference. The photo’s scratched.” The boy looked like he was trying very hard not to cry.
Zach placed a comforting hand on the nape of Noah’s neck. “How about I go through your dad’s computer and put an album together? I can send the files out and have a stack of photos printed. Would you like that?”
Noah shrugged noncommittally, but Zach caught a flicker of interest in his shuttered eyes. Behind all that bravado, all that forced maturity, the heart of a child still beat. And it was every bit as broken as the frame on the floor.
“I’ve got to clean this mess up before someone gets hurt.” Zach stood and went to place Will in his playpen.
When he returned, he found Noah sweeping up the glass. He stood frozen, watched.
Well, I’ll be damned.
A smile yanked at Zach’s mouth. For the first time in weeks he felt hopeful.
Then a key jingled in the lock and a slobbering beast tumbled in, vaulting across the couch, claiming every corner of the house as its own. The animal sampled a taste of Noah, then sniffed Zach’s leg, all the while watching him with a dumb expression that said “I’m all yours”. Becca and Kristen followed at its heels, Kristen chattering up a storm. He hadn’t heard such a stream of words spill from her lips in weeks.
Noah forgot his distress over the photograph and hopped to attention, joining his sister in her excitement. Together they chased the beagle, laughing wholeheartedly, as if they’d suddenly remembered how to be children again.
Becca studied him with apologetic eyes as she deposited an armful of bags on the floor. “I couldn’t say no,” she voiced thinly.
Zach rammed his fingers through his hair. “What are we supposed to do with a dog?”
“Feed it, walk it, occasionally clean up its poop.”
He stifled a moan. “Great. Sounds like another kid.”
“Except for one big difference. This one won’t talk back.” Her eyes twinkled. She looked different, almost happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her happy. Her smile was potent, addictive. One look and he was hooked again.
A crazy kind of joy filled the house. Zach couldn’t believe something as simple as a puppy could bring about such a turnaround. The beagle curled around his legs and licked his feet, as if begging him to let it stay. Zach’s reservations slowly dissolved and vanished.
What the hell. If that was what it took to hear the kids laugh and see Becca smile, then he’d gladly clean up the poop. He was already neck deep in it anyway.
“I guess we better give him a name,” he muttered.
“Bolt!” Kristen piped up. “He’s a super dog!”
“No he’s not. He just thinks he is. He’s an actor.”
Zach and Becca exchanged confused glances. “Is that a show?” she asked.
“A movie,” Noah clarified.
Kristen scrambled through the living room, enthusiasm punctuating her every word. “He’s super strong and super fast and has a super bark…”
“No he doesn’t,” Noah insisted. “He just thinks he does!”
“So you don’t like the name Bolt, Noah?” Becca probed.
“Sure I do. It’s a great name. But he’s not a super dog.”
Kristen stopped running and balled her hands on her hips. “Is too.”
“Is not.”
“Is too.”
Zach rolled his eyes. Here we go again.
“Let’s stay focused.” Becca squatted next to the dog and scratched it behind the ears. The dog’s eyes went dreamy. Zach could relate. “What do you think, puppy? How do you like the name Bolt?”
An excited bark rent the air. Becca laughed. “It’s settled then. We’ve got a dog named Bolt.”
The kids cheered. From his playpen in the corner of the living room, Will released an indignant yowl, insisting he be let in on the fun. Zach freed him from his prison, and the toddler instantly began to chase the beagle. The animal ran for dear life. Not that Zach could blame him. Will had no notion of his strength and would happily tug on Bolt’s ears or tail given half the chance. He prayed to God the creature was as affable as he looked. The last thing they needed was a dog with a super bite.
The day had overflowed with unbridled excitement sprinkled with a hefty dose of chaos. Children and dog had bonded over a series of leaps and bounds, followed by several hours of Fetch. Finally exhausted, the little ones had gone to bed, leaving Rebecca with an over-stimulated puppy to settle down. With the help of an old blanket and a laundry basket, she fashioned a comfortable bed for him in a cozy corner of the basement.
Bolt would have none of it. He much preferred the couch or one of the mattresses instead. Every time she brought him downstairs he dashed right back up again. She tried locking him in, but he just whimpered until she succumbed to his pleas and released him. She finally gave up—praying to God he was housebroken, fully expecting that he wasn’t—and left him curled at the foot of her bed, while she went in search of Zach.
The stars were dull tonight, set against a backdrop of smoky gray. A thin slice of moon scarred the dark underbelly of the sky, casting elongated shadows on the walls. Rebecca softly padded down the stairs, careful not to wake the children. She’d quickly come to appreciate these precious hours between dusk and midnight. An unnatural hush hovered over the house, a lulling mist, almost loud in its stillness.
She found Zach in the den, which Liam had converted into a home office. He sat at the desk, his face illuminated only by the flicker of the computer screen and the pale, silver sheen of moon and stars. For a moment she absorbed the sight of him. Admired the way the fluorescent light caressed him, the way it softened the creases around his mouth and dulled the worry lines permanently etched between his brows. In that instant before he realized she was there, the years fell away. He looked exactly like the boy she’d fallen in love with a lifetime ago.
Then he turned to gaze at her, and the illusion of innocence faded into the night as surely as did any remnants of the dying sun. Before her sat a man hardened by life, no stranger to loss or pain, yet somehow graced with the strength to rise above it.
“I thought you’d gone to bed,” he said.
“It’s barely nine o’clock.”
His glance darted back to the screen. “Is it? It feels later.”
“Probably because you’re exhausted.” She fought the urge to bridge the distance between them and massage his shoulders as she would have done so effortlessly in the past. She no longer had the right to touch him, and that only heightened her desire to do so.
“What are you up to?” she asked instead.
“I told Noah I’d put a photo album together. Have some prints made. I’ve already sent some shots off to Wal-Mart. Now I’m downloading the files onto Noah’s iPod. I figure he’ll like having access to them whenever he’s missing his parents, which I’m guessing is pretty much all the time.”
A warm, languid feeling unfurled silky wings beneath her breastbone. “That’s a great idea. I’m sure it will please him.”
“He’s hurting, Becca.” His eyes fastened onto hers, deep and dark and troubled. “He’s hurting but he refuses to let it show. And it’s killing him.”
“Why does he keep it all i
nside?” If anyone could answer that question, it would be Zach.
He shook his head. “I wish I knew. Something’s eating him up—I can tell. But he doesn’t trust me enough yet to tell me what it is.”
“Give it time.” She walked toward him, buried her hands in her pant pockets to keep from sliding her palms over his wide shoulders and down the length of his sinewy arms. “He just lost his parents.”
“I know.” He bent his head forward and rubbed his eyelids to wipe the stress away. “Damn it, I know. I just feel so useless.”
“You can’t fix everything, Zach.” Losing the battle, she brought her fingers to his temple. Spiky threads of black twined with silver to scrape her fingertips. Something sparked in his gaze, dark and hot and gripping. It shocked her, branded her flesh with the force of an electrical charge, and she withdrew her hand.
“Some things just have to run their course,” she added in an effort to distract herself. “There’s no magic cure for grief. Every heart heals at its own pace.”
She took a step away from him, but he clasped her hand. The heat of those long, strong fingers wrapped around hers seeped into her system, a startling surge that flooded her chest.
“Has yours healed, Becca?”
She tried to pry her hand from his, but he refused to release her. She had no choice but to look into his beautiful face as her traitorous heart continued to tap-dance against her ribcage. Pretense fell away. All that remained was honesty. “I don’t know. I didn’t believe it ever would. But today I did something I never thought I’d have the courage to do. I shopped for the kids.
“I walked into the children’s section, looked at all those adorable little outfits, and you know what? I didn’t fall apart. So who knows? Maybe it will. Maybe it already has.”
He wanted to believe her. She could tell by the flicker of interest in his eyes, by the glimmer of hope that struggled to break through.