Where We Belong

by Hyde, Catherine Ryan

  I’d gotten it in my head to go see that house one more time. To say goodbye before we left town. Except, underneath that, maybe to get a feel for whether I’d ever belonged there or not. Like maybe the answer could have changed.

  Unfortunately, I hadn’t thought of any of this before my mom left for work. And then, after she did, I just couldn’t hold the idea back.

  I was hobbling uphill toward town when a car pulled up beside me. I purposely didn’t look. Because if a weird guy is following you in his car, you shouldn’t encourage him.

  “Angie,” I heard. In a voice that was very definitely Paul’s.

  He had his passenger window open, so I hobbled over and leaned on his car. I wanted to talk, but my heart was too thumpy, and I couldn’t quite catch my breath. Because I didn’t know if he was there to hurt me or to be nice to me, and I couldn’t stand the waiting to find out.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” he said.

  “Why do people do that? All these people driving around trying to find me. Like I’m somebody important to find.” I was talking over my fear. Making very little sense. “Last time, it was to tell me bad news. Are you going to tell me bad news?”

  “No,” he said.

  So I opened the passenger door and got in.

  We sat in absolute silence for a weird length of time.

  Then I heard something move in the backseat. I whipped around to look. He had a dog back there. If you could call him that. He was more of a puppy, but at least half grown, and absolutely huge. Lying down, he filled the seat completely, from one door to the other. He was definitely a Great Dane. But not black, like Rigby. An even silvery-gray color, like a Weimaraner. He was incredibly skinny. Painfully skinny. You could see every knob of his backbone. Every one of his ribs. When I looked at him, he turned his eyes away. His ears were long and uncropped.

  “Oh, my God. You got a new dog.”

  “I did.”

  “Where did you get him? Him? Her?”

  “Him. I went all the way to Sacramento, to get him from a breed-rescue group.”

  “He’s so skinny.”

  “I know. They tried to fatten him up. Now I’m trying to fatten him up. But he has issues around food. It’s like he’s scared of it. He’s scared of everything. Apparently, he’s been abused and neglected. But he’ll come around.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Scout. That was his name when I got him, but I’m thinking I’ll keep it. Because it’s so different from Rigby. I think it’s important to be clear that the new dog is completely different from the one you lost.”

  “Scout.” I reached my hand out to him. He sat up fast to get out of the way.

  “Give him time.”

  “Does he let you touch him?”

  “Barely. But he’s getting better with me. Like his ears?”

  “I do. Very much. Very handsome ears on the dog. Why were you looking for me? What did you want to tell me? Or was it just to show me the dog?”

  I heard him pull in a long, deep breath and let it out again. I watched his hands tighten on the steering wheel, then relax. The whole thing seemed to take a long time. But I just waited.

  “This morning…” he said.

  And paused. I could already tell this speech had been rehearsed.

  “…I woke up very early. It was still dark. The wee small hours of the morning. And the love of my life… the woman I’ve loved since high school… was in my bed with me.”

  He stopped, almost like he couldn’t go on. I wanted to shout something about how wonderful that was. I didn’t. I shut my mouth. For a change.

  “I watched her sleeping for a long time. I don’t even know how long. Could have been hours. And the same thought kept coming back. Over and over and over.”

  Another long pause. Painful for me. But I waited.

  “I thought, What kind of fool… what kind of idiot… would feel anything for the person who helped this happen… except gratitude?”

  Tears sprang up, sudden. Just out of nowhere. I told them to go away. I clamped on them. But a few got loose. I didn’t wipe them away again.

  “I’m so sorry I hurt you with what I did,” I said.

  “See, you’re doing that thing again. Don’t. You’re doing that Angie thing where someone is trying to let you off the hook, and you keep jumping back on it.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  We sat in silence for a time. I don’t how long of one. Scout shifted in the backseat and sighed a deep, sad sigh.

  “That’s so wonderful about you and Rachel,” I said. More silence. Then I said, “Oh, my God. You just told me another really sensitive personal secret.”

  “Yes,” he said. “The irony of that is not lost on me.”

  “Was there something better I should’ve done? What would you have done?”

  “I think I would have gone a different route. If I knew somebody who wasn’t doing the right thing, I don’t think I’d do it for them. I think I’d use more of a bayonet-at-the-back approach. Get behind them, see if I couldn’t drive some action.”

  “I have no idea what that would even look like.”

  “I’ll show you exactly what it looks like.”

  He shifted into Drive and headed for town.

  I didn’t ask any questions.

  I had a few. But I didn’t ask them.

  He pulled up in front of the pharmacy and cut the engine.

  “Before I do this,” he said, “if she had a house, could she be trusted to keep up the payments?”

  “If she didn’t, I would. I’d get a job and help.”

  “That’s what I needed to hear.”

  He jumped out of the car and disappeared inside the pharmacy.

  I looked back at Scout. “What the hell?” I asked him.

  A minute later, Paul was there again with my mom in tow. He opened the passenger door.

  “You sit in the back with the dog,” he told me. “Don’t try to pet him. He won’t bite you, but it’s best not to scare him.”

  I got out, leaning most of my weight on my good ankle, and opened the back door. Scout jumped up into a sit. I eased into the backseat beside him, and he drew back against the door on the opposite side, pulling his paws in so they didn’t touch any part of me. Treating me like I was a flow of molten lava coming almost all the way up to where he sat. I looked at him, and he looked away.

  Then we were moving, and Paul was talking, more or less nonstop. But not to me. To my mom.

  “You’re not ashamed of the fact that you’ve never had a loan before. You take pride in being a first-time buyer. You’re ready to move up to the middle class. You didn’t try to buy in the past because you knew your own limitations. You didn’t feel ready. Now you feel ready. It’s not your fault that your income is low. You could work full-time, but your responsibility to your special-needs daughter comes first. That’s why you work two-thirds time instead of full-time. She’s enrolled in Special Education in public school, so there are no extra expenses incurred by her situation. Your older daughter is unusually mature and responsible and is seventeen now. She’s a good help to you. If you can wait until she’s eighteen for her to work part-time and contribute, that would be preferable, but she’s ready to step in at any time if more money is needed.”

  “Okay…” my mom said.

  I had no idea how she’d gotten a break from work. I had no idea how hard he’d pushed her to get her to come. I had no idea if she was excited or intimidated. There was so much I didn’t know.

  “Let me do most of the talking. If I’m looking at the loan administrator, I’m carrying the dialogue. If he asks you a direct question, I’ll turn to you. That’s your signal to talk. Be direct. Be polite. Don’t be subservient. Banks need to make loans. It’s a big part of their income. His job is to get people into mortgages.”

  “Okay…” my mom said.

  We pulled into the parking lot behind one of the two local banks. We all piled out. Except Scout. Paul cracked all fo
ur windows for the dog and then locked up.

  “Heads up,” he said.

  “What?” my mom asked, looking around.

  “No. Literally. Hold your heads up.”

  So we lifted our chins. And we followed Paul inside.

  He led us straight to the desk of a guy I figured must be a loan administrator. He was young. Maybe thirties. Younger than my mom. I was hoping that would help. He had a beard, and, even though he was wearing a nice suit, he didn’t look all that clean-cut. He wasn’t too intimidating.

  Paul shook hands with him and introduced us. I listened to them talking, and my head was spinning, and I could have gotten anything wrong, but I got the impression that they had already talked earlier that morning.

  “Have a seat,” the man said. Joseph Greely. I got that from Paul’s introduction and from the nameplate on his desk. “Let’s see what we can get done. I have to tell you both, you’re fortunate to have Mr. Inverness advocating for you. We’re here to make loans, and we love nothing more than to get people into houses. And we try to help as much as we can, in the interests of the first-time buyer. But, really, there’s nothing as helpful to your situation as having an older, well-established person with great credit who’s willing to co-sign for you. That’s going to make all the difference.”

  Silence. Absolute and utter silence. I was waiting for Paul to tell Mr. Greely that he’d misunderstood. He never did.

  “I’m sorry,” Mr. Greely said. “You look confused. Did you not know that?”

  My mom opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “We do know that,” I said. “We definitely know how lucky we are to have Paul’s support.”

  My mom walked to Paul’s car as if she was wandering in a dream. I purposely hung back, hoping Paul would stop and talk to me.

  He did.

  “Where’s Rachel?” I asked. “I can’t believe you left her home alone. On your very first day… as… I mean… together.”

  “I told her I had some important business to attend to. You got a problem with that?”

  “Guess not.”

  I was just about to throw my arms around him when he said, “Do not get all mushy with me. Like that day at the lake.”

  “Me? You were the one who started that. Kissing me on the forehead so hard you almost broke my neck.”

  “That’s entirely beside the point. Keep your head in the game. We’ve got a lot more work to do. Next we go by the real estate office and put in a lowball offer.”

  “Think they’ll take less?”

  “We don’t know. We just know it’s the next step. Just follow my lead, kid. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  5. Where We Belong

  I led her down the driveway by the arm, looking over now and then to make sure she wasn’t peeking. Every time I looked, her eyes were closed.

  That’s a lot of trust for my mom.

  “Thank you for waiting,” I said. “I know it must be very weird to buy a house you’ve never seen. And you must’ve thought I was plenty weird for asking you to. But it was really important to me to get it cleaned up first.”

  I stopped in front of the house and tugged her arm to cue her to stop.

  “You can open your eyes now,” I said.

  I watched her face, but I didn’t know what to make of anything I saw there.

  “Oh, honey,” she said, putting an arm around my shoulder. “That is… so ugly.”

  I burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. It was the way she said it. Like she was looking at a smelly old dog who she really loved in spite of himself.

  “You should’ve seen it before I cleaned it up.”

  “I hate to think. All those hours of work… all those weeks… that was all cleaning?”

  “No. Not all. Mostly. There were a bunch of broken windows. Paul gave us windowpanes cut to fit. As a housewarming present. And new locks for the doors. Locking knobs and deadbolts, both. He installed those. He showed me how to replace window glass on the first one, and then I did all the rest myself. And he gave us a ladder. Turns out you’re supposed to get fruit and nuts out of trees with a long, telescoping ladder. And somebody is supposed to hold it, or you’re supposed to lash it to the tree. Turns out there isn’t supposed to be any running or jumping involved at all. Who knew?”

  “We’re learning all kinds of new things, aren’t we?”

  “We are. Now that you’ve seen the bad news with your own eyes, how about some good news?”

  “Shoot.”

  “It has three bedrooms.”

  “You are… kidding me!”

  “I wouldn’t kid. They’re small. But there are three of them. Come on. I’ll show you the inside. But first… the best news of all. Listen.”

  We stood for a minute, side by side. Her arm still draped on my shoulder. Birds chirped, leaves rustled in the wind. Far away, there was some kind of motor, but I couldn’t tell if it was a loud car or a small plane. It never came close.

  “I don’t hear anything,” she said.

  “That’s the good news.”

  “When we move in with Sophie, it won’t be this quiet.”

  “But no one will care. Because no one but us will hear her.”

  I waited a moment for her to take that in. Not that I hadn’t tried to tell her. But it was different to hear it for yourself.

  She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “House, I forgive you for being ugly,” she said. “In fact, you’re looking better all the time.”

  “It’s not bad inside,” she said. “It’s really not. Once we get some furniture in it… Wait. We’ll have to get some furniture. Where will we get furniture?”

  “We’ll figure it out. All the floorboards are nailed down now. And it’s really not drafty. Not like you’d think. And now that the electricity is on, the heater works. Which we thought was really surprising.”

  “Gas?”

  “We don’t get gas out here. There’s a propane tank.”

  “Oh. Propane.”

  She wandered off to look around. First in the kitchen. Then I heard her footsteps heading for the back bedrooms, the back porch. I sat cross-legged on the wooden floorboards in a beam of sun through the orchard-side windows.

  After a few minutes, she came out and sat next to me, her arms hugging her knees.

  “What day does Sophie get picked up here instead of there?” I asked her.

  “Monday.”

  “Good. Gives us all weekend to get our stuff in.”

  “Seriously, kiddo? Our stuff? That won’t take a weekend. Three trips, maybe.”

  Then we sat without talking for a long time. I was getting the feel of the place. Letting it feel natural to be there. I think she was, too.

  She put an arm over my shoulder again.

  “You know,” she said. “With Sophie still in the same school district… and the longer bus ride… and living in a place where she can scream till she’s blue in the face with no problems… I could really take care of her by myself. Mostly. You know. If you wanted to go to college.”

  “Or Tibet.”

  “Or both.”

  “Right. College is important. I agree. Or both.”

  “Wait. Tibet?”

  I wondered where she’d been the first time around.

  “Kind of a long story.”

  She stroked my hair for a second or two.

  “I’ll make time,” she said.

  “A fantastic read which will have people talking about it for many weeks and months to come.” -Sarah of Sarah’s Book Reviews

  “My favourite novel yet by this author!” -Lindsay of The Little Reader Library.

  Russell Ammiano works on the 104th floor of the World Trade Center. On the morning of September 11, 2001, the phone rings while Rusty is rushing to work. The news is devastating: Rusty’s mother has died of a stroke, leaving his brain-damaged older brother Ben alone. This news also saves Rusty’s life. He’s still at home when two planes hit the World Trade Center—and only one of
his friends and colleagues survives. In a single day, the life Rusty built in New York crumbles to the ground.

  Rusty returns to his tiny hometown and the brother he was more than happy to leave behind. Ben hasn’t changed a bit, but the town has. Tensions are running high in the wake of the terrorist attack, while Rusty struggles to put the the past behind him and care for the exasperating brother he loves. He finds refuge drinking coffee in the early morning with beautiful Egyptian-American Anat in her father’s bakery.

  Rusty is beginning to get his life back…until one awful night threatens to take it all away again.

  By the bestselling author of DON’T LET ME GO and PAY IT FORWARD, WHEN YOU WERE OLDER is the heartrending, thought-provoking, and life-affirming story of two very different brothers who try to build a new life together, against the backdrop of an uncertain and uneasy time in our shared history.

  “…and the award for the amount of humanity woven into a book goes to Catherine Ryan Hyde.” -Ivana of Willing to See Less

  About Catherine Ryan Hyde

  Catherine Ryan Hyde is the author of 20 published and forthcoming books. Her newer novels include When I Found You, Second Hand Heart, Don’t Let Me Go, and When You Were Older. New Kindle editions of her earlier titles Funerals for Horses, Earthquake Weather and Other Stories, Electric God, and Walter’s Purple Heart are now available. Her newest ebook title is The Long Steep Path: Everyday Inspiration from the Author of PAY IT FORWARD, her first book-length creative nonfiction. Forthcoming frontlist titles are Walk Me Home and Where We Belong.

  She is co-author, with publishing industry blogger Anne R. Allen, of How to Be a Writer in the E-Age…and Keep Your E-Sanity!

  Her best-known novel, Pay It Forward, was adapted into a major motion picture, chosen by the American Library Association for its Best Books for Young Adults list, and translated into more than 23 languages for distribution in over 30 countries. The paperback was released in October 2000 by Pocket Books and quickly became a national bestseller. Love in the Present Tense enjoyed bestseller status in the UK, where it broke the top ten, spent five weeks on the national bestseller list, was reviewed on a major TV book club, and shortlisted for a Best Read of the Year award at the British Book Awards. Both Becoming Chloe and Jumpstart the World were included on the ALA’s Rainbow List, and Jumpstart the World was a finalist for two Lambda Literary Awards.