A whimper rose in my throat. The cold had settled deep in my bones. I stretched my paws to reach upward, but I was too short to see through the kitchen door window to inside. Scout was probably warm and asleep in his dog house in the kennels, which was inside the garage. I hadn’t seen him or the other dogs since Lise shoved me out into the backyard an hour ago. I wished I was curled up with Scout, muzzle to muzzle. I’d even put up with him chewing on my ear just to be out of this cold.
Another frigid wind blasted around me. Shivering, I let out a few woofs, but still Lise didn’t come to let me in. It was the first really cold day I could remember. The wind was brisk and biting, the clouds gray and low. Gently, I scratched at the door, my nails scraping away the paint to leave tiny parallel marks.
In the distance, a car rolled down the gravel lane, tires crunching over rock. I ran to the gate to see who it was, barking to alert everyone of a visitor. Even the dogs in the kennels joined in with me. I heard Scout’s high yip and Chase’s deep, long bellow, mixed with Cricket’s and Bit’s rapid woofs. Still, no Lise.
A dark blue Buick stopped just outside the yard. Estelle got out of the driver’s side, blew her nose on a tissue, and wiped at her eyes with gloved fingers. As she walked toward the gate, my barks became a greeting. I kept my eyes on the car, waiting for Ray to step out and walk with her, but he didn’t. He just sat there in the passenger seat, gazing blankly at her through the car window. His face was an odd shade of pale, almost transparent. He raised a hand, waved at her, then leaned closer to the window, his breath fogging it until I could no longer see him.
Why didn’t he get out and come in with her? Was he sick? Hurt, maybe?
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
As Estelle swung the gate open, I backed up, resisting the urge to jump up on her. Unlike Cam or Lise, Estelle and Ray never let their dogs in the house. They never so much as patted me on the head, either. Even though Cam took me to their place many times, I was never allowed inside. If I wasn’t with him while he worked in the barns or the fields, Cam would lock me inside Slick’s pen so I wouldn’t ‘get into trouble’, as he put it. I couldn’t see how my exploring meant I was getting into trouble, but he wasn’t always pleased with what I did to occupy my time, so that was where I went when he was busy. Slick was seldom inside the pen himself. Whenever he was not at work with Ray bossing the cows, he would lie on the front porch, his chin and paws draped over the top step as he surveyed his domain. I was not given such freedom. Yet. Cam had told me I’d have to earn it.
Today, Estelle was dressed differently. Her stretchy jeans and loose sweatshirt had been replaced by a fitted black skirt and jacket, tan stockings covering her lower legs. Instead of her white sneakers, she was wearing a pair of black leather shoes, dull and stiff from years of infrequent use. Now that she was closer, I could see that her nose and cheeks were chapped from crying, her eyes rubbed red. She nearly tripped over me as she fumbled to put the key in the lock and open the door.
I glanced back at the car, still expecting Ray to step out and follow her, only ... he wasn’t there anymore. Gone. Like he’d never been there at all. The window was free of fog, drops of water sliding down the pane like rivers of tears.
“Did someone forget you?” Estelle said as she nudged the door open with her hip, her hands held above her rounded stomach so as not to contaminate them with dog germs should she accidentally brush against me.
It wasn’t like her to willingly let me in the house, but I rushed through anyway, glad to be inside. After lapping up some water, I plunked down on top of the register to let the waft of heated air warm my tummy. Her eyes unfocused, Estelle peeled off her gloves and hung up her coat. She lifted the teapot from the stove and ran water into it from the sink faucet.
“I don’t know why she lets you smelly creatures inside,” she mumbled, her back to me. “It’s hard enough to keep a house clean ... clean with just ...”
Her words broke apart. She snuffled back tears. “No, none of that, Estelle Ruth Skidmore McHugh. You’re going to be strong today. It’s just that ... Damn you, Ray. You can’t just up and die on me like that. I can’t run that farm by myself. You left two hundred acres of wheat in the field. What am I supposed to do with it? And the corn! I don’t even know how to drive that stupid combine. And Ned Hanson can only take care of those cows and hogs for so long. Damn you for not thinking of me and —”
A rustle sounded from behind. Lise hovered in the entryway to the kitchen, one hand resting against the doorjamb.
“Estelle?” Lise said softly.
The teapot nearly dropped from Estelle’s grasp. She clutched a hand against her mouth, as if ashamed of what she’d said.
“It’s okay, Estelle.” Lise’s voice was husky, like she’d been out in the cold for hours, even though I knew she hadn’t. She took the teapot from Estelle and set it on the burner. She twisted a knob and a tiny blue flame leapt up beneath it. A tight black dress clung to her gentle curves. Glimmering pearls hung from her slender neck to brush the low neckline. I’d seen this dress before. It was the one she wore a couple months ago when Cam took her out for their anniversary. He told her she looked ‘hot’ in it. Which made me wonder why she didn’t take it off and put on something cooler. Humans are such slaves to fashion. They took Hunter to his grandparents then and went to dinner. Within minutes of them coming home, the dress was on the floor and they were on the couch, touching and kissing each other, making happy sounds. It seemed so long ago now.
“I get mad, too.” Lise fished two teabags out of the ceramic snowman and dropped them into a couple of mugs. “Mad that it happened. Mad they weren’t more careful. Mad that Cam won’t be here when I need him most.”
“It’s my fault, Lise, dear.” Estelle touched her shoulder, but quickly drew her hand back before the gesture became something more. “I should’ve insisted Ray put that roll bar back on the tractor. Even if I had, though, he probably would’ve ignored me. He could be so stubborn sometimes.”
“That’s absurd. It’s not your fault.” But she didn’t say the rest — that Ray had removed the roll bar that at least would have saved Cam’s life. The whistle on the teapot shrieked. Lise poured the hot water into the cups and set them on the table. She sank into her chair and bobbed her tea bag up and down, before scooping a teaspoon of sugar into the cup.
“I saw it happen from my sewing room window.”
Lise dropped the teabag into the cup. Her head snapped up. “What?”
Eyes lowered, Estelle joined her at the table. “I saw Cam drive the tractor over the silage pile. They were trying to tamp it down so they could pull a tarp over it. Keep the rain from ruining it.” She took her handkerchief from her pocket and twisted it between her hands. “Ray ran up beside the pile to tell Cam to back up. And when, when he did, it ... the tractor, I guess it hit a pocket of air. One of the tires spun. The tractor slipped sideways and, and I screamed at them from inside the house. Screamed. But it rolled. Cam was thrown. Ray couldn’t get out of the way in time.”
Her mouth twisted into an ugly shape. She clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened. “I rushed outside, but all I could see at first was the mangled underside of the tractor. When I moved around to the other side and saw, saw ... I knew. There was nothing I could do.” Estelle’s gray eyes took on a distant look, as if she were reliving the day. “They found them right next to each other.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Lise lifted her cup, her mouth tight. They were words spoken out of civility, not compassion. “They couldn’t have heard you that far away. Not with the tractor running.”
“I screamed at them because Hunter had run after his grandpa.” Her voice diminished to a scratchy whisper. Like autumn leaves skittering over concrete on a windy day. “I was afraid for Hunter.”
Lise’s hand froze in mid air. “He saw it happen?”
Estelle nodded dully, her jaw trembling as she dissolved into muted sobs.
Half-standing, Lise reached across the table suddenly, her cup tumbling onto the floor. Hot tea splashed everywhere. The cup shattered into a dozen pieces. A shard skittered across the linoleum, nicking my back paw. I jumped, as much because of the anger I saw in Lise’s face as from the sound of a mug breaking.
“How close was he?” When Estelle didn’t answer right away, Lise smacked the table with her palm. She repeated herself, more loudly, more accusingly. “I said how close was he?!”
Estelle’s shoulders hunched forward. Tear stains dotted her blouse. She unwadded the tissue, blew her nose. It took a few seconds for her to find her voice. “I don’t know. Ten feet, maybe?”
“You mean, he could’ve —?” Lise collapsed onto her chair like she’d been struck. “Oh my God.”
Whatever trust there was between them broke at that moment. Just like the cup hitting the floor. Even if you glued it back together, it would never be as strong again, never be whole.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly. Each pulse of the second hand sounded like the drum beat of a death march. I had never noticed that sound before. Never realized how time actually could change pace. But it did. It plodded.
Finally, Lise pushed her chair back and got up. She turned away, one hand covering her mouth, as if to dam back words better left unsaid. The other hand drifted downward to touch her stomach. It was something she’d been doing a lot this past week. I didn’t understand why until she spoke again.
“Thank God this baby will still have a big brother to look up to.” There was a steeliness to her voice. She was trying to be strong, even though inside she was dissolving like a chalk drawing in a downpour. By the way Estelle’s mouth drooped heavily, I could tell there was also an edge of blame in Lise’s words.
“You mean you’re —?”
“I am. Just two months.” Lise lifted her chin, shoring up her resolve. “So you know, my mom invited me to come live with her. I told her ‘no’ at first, but I think maybe I should. Hunter doesn’t need to be reminded of what happened. He needs to stay safe, where someone can keep an eye on him.” Lise glanced at Estelle, who was still staring at the snotty tissue balled up in her fist. “You don’t know how hard a decision this is for me. My mom needs me. Hunter ... and the baby, they’ll be looked after there.”
Estelle raised her face. “I can look after them.”
“Obviously you can’t. You knew Hunter wasn’t supposed to be around running machinery after what happened to the Hiddleson’s little girl last year. We discussed it. You both promised Cam that you —”
“So you’re going to take Hunter away from his home? From me? Because of something that didn’t happen.”
Lise didn’t answer right away. She let that silence stretch between them, making it all the more potent. “Because of something that very nearly did.”
Estelle turned her face away. Fury brewed beneath her shroud of grief. “And the dogs? The sheep? What about them?”
“You know I can’t ...” Lise expelled a weighty sigh, then twitched her shoulders in a shrug. “I’ll figure it out.”
That was when I noticed Hunter standing in the doorway to the kitchen, the fingers of one hand covering his heart, his favorite stuffed animal clutched in the other arm. Bernard the Bear is what he named it after Cam brought it home from a trip to San Diego once. Hunter had slept with it every night since. Today Hunter had on a dark gray suit, complete with a little black tie. He looked like a tiny adult — except for the bare feet.
In the four days since his daddy had died in the accident, Hunter hadn’t said a single word. Not even so much as a grunt. In fact, he didn’t respond at all when people spoke to him. As if he didn’t hear them. I’d often noticed him rubbing a hand over his chest, like he was soothing an ache in his heart.
Hunter drifted across the kitchen, which seemed a vast distance, it took him so long. He sank down next to me, wrapped his spindly arms around my neck, and hugged me hard, crushing Bernard between us. I licked his face once, then tucked my muzzle against his shoulder.
It turned out it was the day of Cam and Ray’s funeral. I was not allowed to go, which made me sad, because Lise had said something about saying goodbye to Cam, right before she dissolved in tears. I had wanted to see him one more time, too. Now, all I had left of him was his scent. I stole an old T-shirt of his from behind the laundry hamper, ran out the door with it later that week, and buried it behind the bushes in the dog yard. Just so I’d always have something to remember him by.
I used to think Cam would always be with us. Never assumed my world would be anything different than what it was those first few months.
How quickly everything can change.