shampoo—the only kind in the house—before the dog was clean enough to come inside. And since Nina vigorously protested, howling and attempting to run every time Andie lost her grip on the dog’s collar, the bath took twice as long.
At the end of an hour, Andie was soaked, her shirt spotted with muddy paw prints. An indignant Nina bolted intothe house the second Andie opened the door, taking cover under the kitchen table and refusing to come out even for the sticks of jerky Andie waved under her nose.
By nightfall they’d reached an uneasy truce. Nina curled on the foot of the bed, her brown eyes watching Andie’s every move. This morning when Andie awoke, the dog was gone. And seeing how the door was locked, Cort McCallister has some explaining to do.
But Cort breaking into the house to free a dog Andie’s not supposed to have in the first place isn’t something she wants to discuss. Especially this morning, when her aunt is already more cantankerous than normal. Despite the heat, Gert insisted on starting with the shed today, even though they both knew it would be a good ten degrees cooler inside the house.
“No sense putting it off,” she’d said, stepping off the front porch and disappearing around the back of the house, leaving Andie no choice but to follow.
It’s like being fifteen again, Andie thinks, except now she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut. She takes a deep breath, moves the box of canning jars to the spot Gert has indicated, and starts sorting through the piles of old magazines.
They work in silence for a while, each careful not to bump the other in the small space. The floor of the shed is about a third clear when Andie glances at her aunt. Gert’s face is pale despite the heat, and beads of sweat are rolling down her forehead.
“Let’s take a break,” Andie suggests, and for once Gertdoesn’t argue. They make their way past the neatly stacked piles of junk and exit the shed, blinking in the bright sun.
At the house, Andie is halfway to the kitchen before she realizes that her aunt isn’t behind her. She retraces her steps and is relieved to find Gert gently rocking on the porch swing.
“Aunt Gert?”
Gert looks up. Her cheeks look pinker, although her brow is still dotted with sweat.
“Just thought I’d ask if you wanted water or lemonade.”
“Water, please,” Gert says. A breeze brushes past Andie, lifting the stray tendrils of Gert’s hair and smoothing them off her forehead. Gert leans back and closes her eyes.
In the kitchen, Andie washes her hands, then fills a glass from the tap, gulps it down, and refills it with lemonade from a carton in the fridge. She fills another glass with water, then dampens a paper towel and drapes it over her arm.
Outside, she hands Gert the glass of water and the paper towel. “I thought you might want to clean up. It was pretty dusty in there.”
Gert wipes her hands before bringing the towel to her forehead and neck. The water seems to revive her, and she sits more erectly on the swing. She takes a deep breath before speaking.
“I had a phone call last night.”
“Who from?” Andie asks, but really she’s wondering if she should hire someone to help clean out the house. Maybe Cort knows someone, she thinks. Or she could place an ad on the church’s bulletin board, although if Gert saw it she’dkill her. Andie’s so busy scheming ways to help her aunt rest that she almost doesn’t hear her next words.
“Richard. Your father,” Gert adds, as if there could be any doubt in Andie’s mind.
There’s a silence. Gert sips her water and looks off into the distance. The breeze has picked up, and Andie watches it swirl bits of grass and leaves near her feet. When she finally speaks, she keeps her voice carefully neutral. At thirty-three, she’s old enough to know she no longer needs a parent, but that can’t undo the years she spent wishing for one.
“What did he want?”
“He’d like to come for a visit. He’ll
At the end of an hour, Andie was soaked, her shirt spotted with muddy paw prints. An indignant Nina bolted intothe house the second Andie opened the door, taking cover under the kitchen table and refusing to come out even for the sticks of jerky Andie waved under her nose.
By nightfall they’d reached an uneasy truce. Nina curled on the foot of the bed, her brown eyes watching Andie’s every move. This morning when Andie awoke, the dog was gone. And seeing how the door was locked, Cort McCallister has some explaining to do.
But Cort breaking into the house to free a dog Andie’s not supposed to have in the first place isn’t something she wants to discuss. Especially this morning, when her aunt is already more cantankerous than normal. Despite the heat, Gert insisted on starting with the shed today, even though they both knew it would be a good ten degrees cooler inside the house.
“No sense putting it off,” she’d said, stepping off the front porch and disappearing around the back of the house, leaving Andie no choice but to follow.
It’s like being fifteen again, Andie thinks, except now she’s smart enough to keep her mouth shut. She takes a deep breath, moves the box of canning jars to the spot Gert has indicated, and starts sorting through the piles of old magazines.
They work in silence for a while, each careful not to bump the other in the small space. The floor of the shed is about a third clear when Andie glances at her aunt. Gert’s face is pale despite the heat, and beads of sweat are rolling down her forehead.
“Let’s take a break,” Andie suggests, and for once Gertdoesn’t argue. They make their way past the neatly stacked piles of junk and exit the shed, blinking in the bright sun.
At the house, Andie is halfway to the kitchen before she realizes that her aunt isn’t behind her. She retraces her steps and is relieved to find Gert gently rocking on the porch swing.
“Aunt Gert?”
Gert looks up. Her cheeks look pinker, although her brow is still dotted with sweat.
“Just thought I’d ask if you wanted water or lemonade.”
“Water, please,” Gert says. A breeze brushes past Andie, lifting the stray tendrils of Gert’s hair and smoothing them off her forehead. Gert leans back and closes her eyes.
In the kitchen, Andie washes her hands, then fills a glass from the tap, gulps it down, and refills it with lemonade from a carton in the fridge. She fills another glass with water, then dampens a paper towel and drapes it over her arm.
Outside, she hands Gert the glass of water and the paper towel. “I thought you might want to clean up. It was pretty dusty in there.”
Gert wipes her hands before bringing the towel to her forehead and neck. The water seems to revive her, and she sits more erectly on the swing. She takes a deep breath before speaking.
“I had a phone call last night.”
“Who from?” Andie asks, but really she’s wondering if she should hire someone to help clean out the house. Maybe Cort knows someone, she thinks. Or she could place an ad on the church’s bulletin board, although if Gert saw it she’dkill her. Andie’s so busy scheming ways to help her aunt rest that she almost doesn’t hear her next words.
“Richard. Your father,” Gert adds, as if there could be any doubt in Andie’s mind.
There’s a silence. Gert sips her water and looks off into the distance. The breeze has picked up, and Andie watches it swirl bits of grass and leaves near her feet. When she finally speaks, she keeps her voice carefully neutral. At thirty-three, she’s old enough to know she no longer needs a parent, but that can’t undo the years she spent wishing for one.
“What did he want?”
“He’d like to come for a visit. He’ll
Similar Books
