Say That Again

by Sasson, Gemini

She went into the kitchen, leaving Heck and Hunter to exchange a glance.

  “What was that about?” Maura placed a pie slice where her mother had been sitting, then sat down with hers and began shoveling.

  Shaking his head, Hunter gave Heck an apologetic look. “Sorry, I thought ―”

  Jenn returned, carrying a small stack of school books. She set them down next to Heck. “Now, she’s a bit behind, but not too far. And this will only be until late May, so if you could work with her through Christmas, she should be all caught up. How long you have to spend on her assignments each day depends on how quickly she works, if at all. Short stints are best, but if she’s focused, go with —”

  She stopped, suddenly aware that both Hunter and Heck were staring at her.

  “What? You thought I was going to say ‘no’?” She rolled her eyes at them, shook it off, then said as she left the room again, “Be back in a second. I have to grab the curriculum notes, so I can explain them to you. I hope this isn’t too much all at once?”

  “Not at all,” Heck replied after her.

  Hannah watched her mother dart up the stairs, then looked at Heck. He winked at her, ever so slightly, and she grinned back at him.

  chapter 24: Echo

  A series of plinks and hums, blending, quickening, going up and down in pitch, drifted from the small device on Heck’s counter. I tilted my head, trying to figure out what exactly was making the noise. It was like the TV, but without pictures or words. I folded back and settled on my belly, studying the little square machine intensely.

  Finally, it dawned on me that the sounds were a means of communication I was familiar with. Lifting my snout, I let out a plaintive howl.

  A-woo-woo-wooooo!

  “He likes it.” Hannah patted me on the head, then claimed her chair next to the window.

  We were having lunch at Heck’s kitchen table. Like every lunch, Heck played music from a little black device on the counter. It was very different from what Maura, Jenn, or Hunter listened to. There were no words to it, but something about it was much more dramatic.

  “This is by Vivaldi.” Heck turned the volume up. “It’s called “Autumn”. There are actually sonnets that go with it, but they’re much more moving in Italian than English.”

  “What’s Italian?”

  “Just a different way of speaking. People in other parts of the world have different names for everything than we do. It’s said there are sixty-nine hundred languages in the world today, but that’s a matter of conjecture that linguists argue extensively. Does one count dialects separately? What about dead languages? And are older versions of the same language, such as Olde English, different from modern versions? If you and I went back to the Middle Ages, chances are we’d have a hard time understanding them. One could debate ...” His voice trailed off as he noticed Hannah staring at the plate of lunch meat he was holding. “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

  She nodded, her eyes still on the plate.

  Setting the plate down, he spread the remaining sandwich fixings on the table. Every day, he put out different cheeses and meats, leafs of lettuce, sliced tomatoes, and a variety of condiments. Some days he had turkey and Swiss with Dijon mustard. Others he had roast beef and cheddar with mayonnaise. He never ate the same sandwich two days in a row.

  And just like she did every day, Hannah put a slice of Colby cheese onto her white bread, then topped it with a piece of ham so thin you could almost see through it. Never two slices, never whole wheat bread, never Swiss or Cheddar cheese. For a full minute that day, though, she eyed the tomato slices before sliding one onto her sandwich. It wasn’t like Hannah to be spontaneous. Change was something she seldom embraced. This was monumental.

  A slice of cheese dangled from her hand under the table. I snarfed it down. It was no secret that she fed me at mealtimes. Heck saw her do it every time and never said a word.

  Heck touched a finger to his earlobe. “If you listen to the music, Hannah, you can hear the leaves falling.”

  She shut her eyes. Her hands drifted into the air, fingers outspread as if she were reaching for something just beyond her grasp.

  “I see them,” she whispered.

  Heck smiled. He didn’t smile often, or for very long, but sometimes things that Hannah did made him smile.

  When they were done eating, Hannah asked if they could paint now.

  “Soon, Hannah. But I promised your mother that we would read out loud today. Did you bring any books with you?”

  She nodded and ran into the living room and fetched her book.

  “Hmm, Shel Silverstein’s Falling Up. A fine book. Delightful poems. But didn’t we read it yesterday, and the day before that? I should think you’d have it memorized by now. Would you like to read one of my books, Hannah? I have so many of them, just sitting in boxes, unloved, ignored.”

  She looked unconvinced.

  “Why don’t you at least go check the boxes in the spare bedroom while I clean up? If you don’t find anything you like — and there are hundreds of books to choose from, everything from cookbooks, to travel guides, to the classics, to mysteries — then we’ll read from your book again. Agreed?”

  Her head bobbed in a ‘yes’. I trotted after her down the hallway. The door was already cracked, so she nudged it open fully.

  A room full of boxes confronted her. A few, nearest to the door, had been opened, revealing books of various sizes. Hannah pulled out an assortment, some with pictures inside, some just words. Then one by one, she began to sort them into piles by relative size, biggest books on the bottom. She had five different piles going when she stopped and began rearranging them by the colors on the outside.

  Frankly, if any of those other boxes contained books, I was afraid this would go on forever. I found a cozy corner next to the register and curled up, preparing for a long nap.

  Heck appeared in the doorway. “Just one, Hannah. Don’t worry about sorting them. I’ll do that later. I need to put the trash out right now, but I’ll check on you again in five minutes. Bring one book out to the living room then. We can always read the rest some other day.”

  He left and Hannah slid one book aside and put the rest away. Despite what Heck had said, she checked some other boxes. From one, she lifted out an old camera case. From another, several women’s blouses. From a third, a pair of women’s boots. Then, from yet another, she pulled out a pearl necklace.

  My eyelids were getting heavy. I yawned, but Hannah took no notice. I thought she might lose track of time and go through the whole lot, when she took out a framed picture.

  As she stared at it, it was as if the world around her faded away. Something in it held her captive.

  “Hannah?” Heck called from elsewhere in the house. “It’s time.”

  The picture pressed to her chest, Hannah went to the living room, me ambling sleepily behind. She stopped at the entrance to the room, a question framing behind her eyes.

  Heck was rearranging pillows on the couch, his back to her. “I thought I’d show you more about how to do watercolors this afternoon, since I know you like them so much. They’re more difficult to —” He stopped talking when he turned around and saw the picture she held.

  “Who’s this?” She turned the picture around so he could see. It was a black and white photograph of a woman, young, fair-haired, pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way. “Is this your mommy?”

  He breathed a laugh. “No, although I can see where you’d say that. It’s an old picture.” His gaze took on a far-off, somber look, as if recalling days gone by. “It’s my wife. Was ... Is ...”

  Her steps slow, her expression curious, yet compassionate, Hannah approached him. “Did she die?”

  Sinking onto the couch, he shook his head. “No, but she’s not really here. I mean ... she doesn’t remember anything. Not even me.” He took the picture from Hannah as she sat beside him. His fingertips grazed the woman’s hair, then paused on her lips as he sighed wistfully. “That happens when you get o
ld, sometimes. Only it happened to her earlier than most.”

  Hannah scooted closer, leaving a gap of only a few inches between them as she peered at the picture with him. “How did it happen?”

  His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Not an accident or a tumor or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. She just started forgetting one day. Things like where she left her glasses, what time she was supposed to be at an appointment ... I didn’t think anything of it at first. She was always very busy, teaching and helping out in the community, and when you’re busy like that, it’s a lot to remember. One day she couldn’t remember where she parked her car. She called the police, saying it had been stolen. It had been in the garage all along. Then she left a pot on the burner and went on an errand. When I got home, the kitchen was filled with smoke. At that point, I realized I had to be with her every minute. One night ... one night I woke up, found her in the kitchen, and she looked at me and grabbed a skillet, ready to hit me, because she thought I had broken into the house ...” Frown lines carved deep into the crevices around his mouth. “She didn’t know who I was — and I knew it was time.”

  “For what?”

  “To let go, I suppose. I couldn’t take care of her any longer by myself. We lived in a very busy neighborhood. She could’ve walked out the door and gotten lost or wandered into traffic and gotten hit. Even worse was the possibility that if she found the car keys, she might cause an accident and hurt someone else. So I made the decision to place her in an assisted living facility. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” With each sentence, his shoulders sank lower, as if the weight of it all was bearing down on him. “She grew up in Faderville when she was little, about your age, so that’s why I chose to come here with her. Her sister, Maria, still lives in the area. I was hoping that being here would spark memories, but it hasn’t.”

  A few moments elapsed in silence — Heck sorting through a quagmire of emotions and Hannah struggling to comprehend it all. Finally, Heck straightened his spine and exhaled loudly. “Do you know that place called Fox Hollow, this side of town?”

  She shrugged.

  “It’s where mostly old people live, people who need a lot of help getting around, or a nurse to look after them. That’s where she is.”

  Hannah’s eyes lit with understanding. “My Aunt Cammie works there!”

  “So you’ve been there?”

  “Once. To see Aunt Bernie.”

  I tilted my head at her. The name sounded familiar, although I couldn’t quite place it.

  “It’s very sad there,” Hannah added.

  “It is. I visit Sophia twice a week still, even though she doesn’t know who I am, or that I was there just a few days before.”

  “I’m sorry she doesn’t remember.”

  “Me, too. But I try to use those times to talk about things we used to do together. It makes me realize how lucky I was to have met her. Not many people would put up with me.”

  “I like you, Heck.”

  “I like you, too, Hannah.”

  Something told me that what was developing between them was stronger than ‘like’ and more like love. But humans can be shy about expressing that emotion. Dogs never are. If we love you, there will be no doubt about it.

  “Sophia’s a pretty name,” Hannah said.

  “I think so, too.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. We met in high school when her family moved to Louisville, but I was two years older and we’d only gone on a few dates when I was drafted. Me, in the army. Can you imagine that? Anyway, we wrote to each other for a while, when I was fighting in the war, but one day her letters started coming back to me unopened. Turns out her family had moved several more times. Still, she never married and neither did I. I suppose we never gave up hope of finding each other again. And then, almost twenty years later, we met again through mutual friends. Three months after that we were married.”

  “Did you have any kids?”

  “No, we didn’t.” Heck squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “But Sophia was always good with children. You would have liked her.”

  Tucking a leg beneath her and twisting sideways so she could face him, Hannah gave Heck a quizzical look. “Would have?”

  “The way she used to be.” He studied his fingernails briefly before getting up from the couch. “I was just thinking, before you walked into the room, that maybe we should just go paint something. When I’m feeling melancholy, it helps to lift my spirits.” He held out his hand.

  Hannah stared at it as if he’d just offered her a handful of rusty tacks. Except for me, Hannah didn’t like to make physical contact with others, not even with her parents.

  “What if Mommy asks what I read today?”

  Grinning, he tipped his head. “I have just the thing.” He went to the back bedroom and came out a minute later with a travel guide full of pictures of a place with a castle and roller coasters and palm trees. “This is a book about a magical place called Disney World. Have you ever been there, Hannah?”

  “Nope.”

  “Every child should go there once in their lives. After we do some painting and clean up, we’ll read about it. Maybe combine it with a geography lesson on the state of Florida, as well as some history about Walt Disney himself. And you know what? You may keep it. It even has a map, so you can find your way around. Maybe you can convince your parents to take you there. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Hannah placed her hand in his and he pulled her to her feet.

  —o00o—

  That afternoon Hannah painted a picture of Sophia. From memory. But it wasn’t black and white. It was alive with streaks and patches of pinks, yellows, blues, and greens, and Sophia was standing in a field of flowers, just like the one in Heck’s painting.

  Heck’s eyes misted over as he stood behind her, watching her add the finishing touches. “She’s wearing pearls,” he said quietly.

  “Do you like it?” Hannah asked.

  “It’s the most beautiful painting I’ve ever seen.” He turned away, his breath a quavering sigh. He pulled his shoulders up high. “Why don’t we go back inside, Hannah? I need to start sorting through those boxes. Most were Sophia’s belongings. Someone else could probably make good use of them. After all, what am I going to do with fifteen skirts, half a dozen high heels, and several strings of pearls?” He flashed a joking smile, although his eyes were still sad. “Don’t answer that, by the way.”

  They cleaned up the paints hastily, but before Heck could delve into sorting through his boxes — the same boxes that had been sitting around since the first time Hannah and I stayed with him when Lise’s sheep got out — Hunter arrived to take Hannah home for the day.

  While much of the past year, by all accounts, had been rough for Hannah, there were some highlights to it. For one, she and Heck were forming an unusual but very strong bond.

  Then there was me. You might think I would feel like a third wheel, but that was never the case. I did miss my days with Hunter, but there were many times he had to either leave me in the truck while out on calls or behind a baby gate at the clinic, a place I never much cared for anyway. I had never warmed to all the noise and commotion there, not to mention the continuous string of strangers and nervous animals mewling and barking and squeaking.

  On days I spent with Hannah, I was always right beside her. And that was where I would always choose to be.

  But sometimes, even when life is exactly as we want it to be, it doesn’t stay that way. In a heartbeat, it can all go away.

  chapter 25: Echo

  A favorite part of my day was feeding the horses with Jenn after she got off work. Today, however, we were doing our chores a little early while Hannah took a nap in her bedroom. Instead of Hunter picking Hannah up around four, Jenn had picked her up a little after one, explaining to Heck that she had the afternoon off.

  If Hannah was confused by the change in routine, she didn’t mention it, but we dogs are very aware o
f such things. If you forget to wake up at dawn on the weekends to let us out, we will snort in your ear until you do. Being the dog I am, though, I forgot about the disruption in our usual schedule the moment we stepped into the barn and a hundred wonderful smells — horses, manure, hay, and dirt — filled my nose.

  Somewhere, I caught a whiff of field mouse among the straw bales. I had my nose buried in between two stacks of it when Hunter walked in. Jenn was bundled up in her coat and wearing mud boots, scooping feed into the horses’ buckets.

  “Hey,” he said. “What’s up with the cryptic text message?”

  I bounded over to him, my hind end wiggling, but he ignored me, which only made me try harder. When I jumped on the front of his coat, he pushed me off. I skulked away, wondering if I’d done something wrong. It wasn’t like him to dismiss me without a proper greeting.

  Although my beginnings had consisted of people who disappointed and betrayed me, lately my life was full of nothing but good and honest people: Hunter and Jenn, Hannah and Maura, Brad and Lise. Even Heck. None had ever raised a hand against me, or yelled at me, or forgotten to feed me. Not even Jenn, who at first had seemed reluctant to have me in the house and constantly with Hannah. And so I never let the chance pass to let them know how much I appreciated them. I licked their hands at every opportunity, didn’t cause trouble, never chewed on anything that had their scent, and watched over them as if their lives depended on it. But sometimes, apparently, they forgot that. Like now.

  Jenn finished filling Cinnamon’s bucket, then put the scoop back in the feed sack before turning around. She leaned against a support post, her face a mixture of concern and confusion. “I learned something today that has me rethinking things.”

  “Like what?” Hunter asked. Normally at this point, he’d pull her into a hug and give her a long, noisy smooch, but something about her stance must have warned him off. “Did Maura get into trouble at school again? She’s been pretty good since —”

  “It’s not Maura.” Jenn went out the barn door and headed toward the house, Hunter close behind.