by Elise Faber
“No. Perfect,” Kel said firmly. “Where’s the dog?”
“At puppy daycare.”
“Good.” She nodded. “Contain the little monster. Okay, show it to me.”
“Show you what?”
“The spread.”
I bit my lip and turned the camera around, moving the phone to give her a glimpse of the entire kitchen table filled with food. Including another blueberry pie that was perfect this time. Turned out I’d forgotten lemon juice last time around and it wasn’t until after midnight when I’d spotted the yellow fruit perched next to the bowl, that I’d realized.
Kelly gasped. “Holy hell, Melissa. That’s incredible.”
I shrugged. “It’s nothing—”
“You’re crazy, now stop. Tammy will love you—” The doorbell rang.
“Oh God,” I hissed. “She’s here.”
“Then let her in,” Kel said. “I love you. You’re awesome.” I was just hanging up when she blurted, “Bring the leftovers later!”
Snorting, I hit the red button, pocketed my phone, and rushed to the front door.
12
Tammy MacAlister was a perky redhead with bright blue eyes. Her smile was warm.
“Come on in,” I told her. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Water is fine,” she said and followed me into the kitchen. “Oh my.”
I winced, facing her. “I got a little carried away.”
“This is beautiful.” She crossed to the table. “Soup. Sandwiches. Pasta salad. Blueberry pie. If it tastes as good as it looks, I’ll be a thousand pounds before I leave.”
I laughed, my nerves starting to relax. “No guarantees,” I told her as I grabbed a glass and filled it with a pitcher of my infused—strawberry, orange, and mint—water. “Please have a seat.”
“There never are.” But Tammy smiled and sat. “That’s the problem with really good food.”
I handed her the glass before taking the opposite chair. “I’m nervous,” I blurted.
She grinned. “Me too. It’s not often that I pick up my clients via my husband. But that chicken!”
“Good?” I asked, biting my lip.
“Delicious.”
I blew out a breath. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. That recipe is one of my favorites and way too easy for as pretty as it looks.”
“I did like the appearance the fresh herbs gave it,” Tammy said. “Parsley and sage?”
I nodded. “Plus a little rosemary. Too much gives the chicken almost a soapy taste. A little hint brings out those savory notes without overpowering the flavor of everything else.”
She nodded, and I wondered if I’d gone on one of my tangents. Sometimes I waxed poetic about food, to the eternal boredom of Rob and Kelly. But Tammy didn’t seem bored. In fact, her eyes were warm when she said, “Tell me about your blog.”
“How about we eat while I tell you?” I asked. “That way the soup doesn’t get cold.”
Tammy winked. “I like the way you think.”
I grabbed a bowl and scooped up some chicken soup for her then filled a plate with a little bit of everything—a finger sandwich, pasta salad, petite fours, pie. It was way too much food, but at least she could take a bite of all that I had to offer.
As she ate and I served up a plate for myself, I told her how I’d started the blog because I’d been slowly going insane when Max was an infant and wouldn’t sleep during the night.
He’d only sleep upright and strapped to my chest. Which wasn’t exactly conducive for my sleep.
So instead of wallowing, I’d taken to cooking.
At least when I was a zombie the following evening from lack of sleep, dinner had already been made. By the time both of my kids were sleeping through the night, I’d had a stack of recipes but my body was used to being up half the night.
I’d played around with plating and taking pictures and had finally taken the social media plunge.
The rest was history.
“I remember those days,” Tammy said. “Being so tired that you could hardly think straight.”
“Being a mom is hard,” I agreed. “Easier on the sleep part now, but harder in different ways.”
Tammy tilted her head in question.
“They fight. All the time.”
She smiled. “I only have the one, so I didn’t get to experience that particular joy of motherhood.”
“You’re not missing out,” I said. “Trust me.”
We laughed, and then a quiet descended. I tried to give off some semblance of a calm, put together TV personality, but inside my nerves began to roil again. I’d given the background, she’d tasted my food. Next would come judgment.
“Your kitchen is beautiful.”
I blinked then smiled. “My husband and I redid it ourselves.”
“Really?”
I glanced at the cabinets that Rob had refinished a bright white, the tile backsplash and floor we’d installed.
“Really. With the exception of the countertops, we did it all.” I shrugged. “Luckily it was all cosmetic—electricity and plumbing I draw the line at.”
“I would too.” Her laughter was bright and contagious, and I finally finally chilled.
This is going to be what it is, Miss, I thought, my pulse steadying. You can’t control everything.
“Okay,” Tammy said. “Ready to hear how these things normally work?”
I nodded. “Yes, please.”
Tammy smiled as she pulled out her phone, snapping a few pictures of the spread. “I discuss you with my bosses, show them your blog, go on and on about how good your food is, and then we fly you to New York for a screen test.”
My eyes were wide. “New York?”
Broadway. High rises. The subway. And food. So. Much. Food.
“Yup.” She touched my hand and stood. “I’ll be in touch once I talk to my bosses, and then we’ll figure out a few days that work with your schedule to get you to New York. Sound good?”
I bobbed my head, pushing to my own feet. “That sounds fabulous.”
We walked to the front door, and Tammy gave me a hug before she left. “It was such a pleasure to meet you.”
“You as well. Safe travels.”
Once she’d gotten into her car, I retreated to the kitchen and leaned back against the counter.
A screen test? New York? How was this real life?
I stayed there for a few minutes, frozen in shocked delight. And then I called my sister and we squealed.
After that very appropriate display of glee—occasionally we were allowed to act like teenagers, right?—I began packing up the leftover food. I’d take it to Kelly and Justin’s house before I grabbed the kids from school.
Payment for services rendered. Or for being an awesome sister.
Twenty minutes later, I was loading up her fridge when my phone rang.
It was a local number, but one I didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
I could barely hear anything—it was all static and wind and voices.
“Hello?” I said again.
“I can’t tell my wife . . .”
My heart twisted at the sound of Rob’s voice.
“I’ve got two kids. This is about them . . .”
Knees trembling, I leaned back against the counter when the call suddenly went crystal clear, wind and static gone. Rob’s voice came through with perfect clarity.
“No. She’s nothing.”
Click.
The call ended, and I glanced down at my phone.
Nothing.
Nothing.
My eyes slid closed, my legs trembled.
Nothing.
I jumped when my phone rang again, and I swiped to answer, putting it up to my ear without looking at the ID.
“Ms. Mitchell?”
My voice wavered as I spoke. “Yes, this is her.”
“Hi, this is Sandy from Bow Wow Patrol, and I, um, don’t know how to tell you this . . .”
My eyes flashed o
pen, and my stomach dropped. Oh God, what had Rocco done?
“Rocco escaped the outside enclosure, and we can’t find him anywhere.”
My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor, head dropping back to lean against the cabinets of Kel’s kitchen.
“How long has he been missing?” I asked, shoving Rob to the back of my mind.
“Just about an hour.”
I nodded though Sandy couldn’t hear me, glancing at the clock and mentally making a plan. “I’m just outside of town. I’ll stop by my house to double check he didn’t somehow make his way home and then be there.”
That would give me about forty-five minutes of search time before I had to pick up Allie from school.
Hopefully, it would be enough.
13
It wasn’t enough time.
Kelly was at a doctor’s appointment—her first visit, and I didn’t want to ruin what should be a happy moment—so I rushed across town and grabbed Allie from school. We drove to Bow Wow Patrol. Sandy met us outside, breathless and covered in leaves.
“We found him!” she said. “But he’s—” Her eyes trailed over my shoulder to where Allie stood and the words cut off. “H-U-R-T.”
My stomach clenched. Hard.
“Bad?”
A nod.
“What’s bad, Mommy?” Allie asked.
I crouched in front of her and rested my hands on her shoulders. “Rocco got a little boo-boo, but he’ll be okay,” I said, hoping it would be true.
Standing, I turned to Sandy. “Where is he?”
“In the back.”
I nodded before handing my phone to Allie. “Why don’t you have a seat in the lobby and watch some videos?”
“Okay!” She snagged it and scampered for the automatic sliding door leading into the doggy daycare, Sandy and I trailing after her, talking quietly.
“How bad?” I asked.
“I think his leg is broken, and he has some cuts that need cleaning.” She paused, glancing over at Allie, who was now perched in a chair and thoroughly engrossed in the phone. “I found him at the bottom of a ravine.”
“Wait here, honey, okay?” I said when Sandy pulled open the door to the back.
The receptionist gave me a sympathetic smile and nodded at Allie. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Thanks,” I murmured before following Sandy back.
And my heart broke.
“Oh, poor baby,” I crooned, dropping to my knees inside the room where Rocco was. He was wrapped in a blanket, and the parts of him that I could see were covered in scratches and abrasions.
He shifted, trying to stand, and cried out in pain.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry,” I said softly, continuing to talk to him as I pulled the blanket back and examined his leg.
My throat went tight at the angle—the wrong angle—of the bones. I needed to get him to the vet right away. I reached for my phone before realizing it was currently occupied by Allie. “Can I borrow your phone?” I asked Sandy.
“I called Dr. Johnson a few minutes ago. They’ll be ready for you as soon as you get there.” She sighed. “I don’t know how he got out. We’ve pulled all the dogs inside and are inspecting the fence. I’m so sorry.”
I pushed to my feet. “Thank you for finding him. It would have been—” My voice cracked and I blinked rapidly. “Thank you.”
Sandy nodded before helping me carry Rocco out to my car. We got him settled then I returned to the lobby for Allie. “Thank you for being so patient, sweetheart,” I said as we walked outside. “Rocco needs to see the vet, so we’re going there next.”
Allie’s light brown eyes went wide. “Will he be okay?”
“Of course.” I stroke her baby soft cheek. “He’s got a couple of big boo-boos, but the vet will fix him right up.” I got her buckled into her car seat, sent a silent prayer that my words would be true, and drove to the vet’s office.
The moment my car pulled into the lot, Dr. Johnson came through the doors, scooping Rocco up and carrying him inside.
Allie and I spoke to Jane, the receptionist, before picking Max up from school. Luckily, Kelly was home from her appointment by the time we were heading back to our house, and she zipped over to hang with the kids.
It was only when I was back over to the vet’s office that I realized I hadn’t called Rob.
Nothing.
The word, said with a dismissive tone I’d never heard in my husband’s voice before, blared through my mind.
And he loved Rocco. How would he react to his dog being hurt on my watch? Because of something that I’d wanted to do. I’d shoved Rocco into daycare and hadn’t bothered to keep him safe.
I slid my phone back into my pocket.
Jane smiled when I came through the doors. “I was just going to call you.”
A smile was good, right? It meant Rocco would be okay?
The dog destroyed my shoes and wreaked havoc with the best of them, but I still loved him.
“How is he?”
“Pretty banged up, but Dr. Johnson has the specifics for you. He’s waiting in exam room three.”
At her nod, I slipped past the desk and walked down the hall, knocking before pushing into the room with a three posted outside the door. Rocco was curled on a pile of blankets, looking very drowsy but a lot more comfortable than when I’d dropped him off.
He sported a cast on his back right leg and a myriad of bald spots where they must have shaved him to clean out his cuts. A blue compression bandage was wrapped around one front leg, white gauze peeking out from beneath it.
“Oh, poor Rocco,” I said, and crouched down next to him.
“It looks worse than it is,” Dr. Johnson said, appearing like a ninja in the doorway that led to the restricted back area for staff and patients only.
He was holding a file but set it aside to crouch next to us, giving Rocco a little scratch under his chin.
“Rocco’s a lucky boy. He had a few spots that needed stitches, mainly on his legs and head, as his fur protected him elsewhere.” Rocco’s eyebrows perked up at his name before he settled his head more firmly on his paws with a sigh. “There was a small fracture in the tibia of his right hind leg, but that should heal without issue.”
“Okay,” I said, the twisting in my gut settling slightly. “So he’s okay?”
He nodded, a small smile curving his mouth up. “My only concern at this time is internal bleeding. From what Sandy told me, it seems like he had a pretty big fall.”
“What?”
She’d told me they’d found him at the bottom of a ravine, but I hadn’t put two and two together. My heart twisted further as I imagined him falling, scrambling to stay upright, crashing into rocks and sticks, hurting, scared—
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes for a long moment.
“He’s okay,” Dr. Johnson said.
I nodded, blinked to clear the tears.
“I’d like to keep him overnight for observation. His X-rays and ultrasound are clear, but just in case.”
I nodded again. “Okay.”
He stood up and grabbed the folder. “Stay with Rocco as long as you want. Just check in with Jane when you leave.”
Rocco shifted, resting his head on my thigh, and Dr. Johnson slipped into the back, closing the door behind him.
I scratched Rocco’s ears gently, allowing my eyes to commit every visible inch of his body—and his many injuries—to memory. I tucked those into my brain, to the section that was extremely good at holding on to guilt.
Those I’d rehash later, punishing myself until I felt I’d suffered enough to make up for his injuries.
Selfish. I’d acted like my mother, pawning my responsibility off onto someone else just so I could have my fun.
I’d had my fun.
And Rocco had gotten hurt.
And . . . it was my fault.
A tear trickled down my cheek, but I brushed it away. I didn’t deserve to purge the emotions, didn’t ge
t to excise the guilt. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t be like my mother. Not ever.
But look what had happened. I’d turned into exactly the kind of selfish bitch she was, and so I had to experience this guilt over and over and over again.
Until I learned. Until I was better. Until I had made up for it.
14
I heated up a meal from the freezer but I don’t remember what it was that I actually ate. The kids didn’t complain though so it must have been taco casserole, mac and cheese, or something with chicken tenders.
“He’s going to be okay.” Kelly squeezed my arm. She’d stayed for dinner but Justin was waiting for her, so she and Abby were heading out. She hugged me. Tight. “Just remember that.”
Words wouldn’t come to form a response, not when my imagination was reliving what poor Rocco had gone through, so I just nodded. He was only a dog. It shouldn’t be bothering me so much. But Rocco was innocent, and he’d been at doggie daycare so I could have my meeting.
And Rob loved him.
I sighed. I loved the furball too.
Dammit.
I blinked hard.
“You know—” Kel winced and broke off when Abby yanked at a lock of her hair. She untangled little fingers and said, “I know you’re really good at it, but sooner or later you have to shed that martyr cape and let the rest of the world help.”
All the air left my lungs in a rush. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My sister—my younger sister’s face was full of pity “Oh sweetie. I love you, but you’re wrong.”
“I’m—”
“No one is perfect,” she said. “Or expects you to be.” Abby let out a screech and Kelly smiled down at her daughter. “Time for bed, huh?”
She called out a goodbye and headed for her car.
“I know I’m not perfect,” I muttered, closing the door and slumping forward to rest my forehead against the plank of wood.
“How about perfect for me?”
Rob’s voice made me straighten and my eyes immediately fill with tears. I turned, regret pouring through me when the smile he’d been wearing slipped from his face.