Epilogue

I bury my nose in Mack’s fur, inhaling his familiar doggy scent, relishing the feel of his body in my arms. I can’t imagine how the Parmalees must feel. Oh yes, I can. It’s how I felt when Artie drove away with him. I felt that way when Anthony called to tell me Tony wanted to stay with him permanently, effectively ending my life as a single mom. I felt that way when my father married Adele. I felt that way every time some man made promises that he couldn’t keep. Bereft. Grief-stricken. Alone.

Mitch is beside me, his fingers dancing on the steering wheel as a violin concerto blasts out of the speakers. He isn’t drumming; he’s fingering an imaginary violin. Then his right hand leaves the wheel and strokes Mack, coming to rest against my cheek. I lean into it. He smells of soap, his fingertips hardened by years of violin playing.

I’m going to be making changes again. Once more, I’ll uproot myself and begin again. My voyage isn’t over, but at least I know what I’ve been pursuing all these years; my particular white whale is forgiveness. I have forgiven my father, or maybe it’s more accurate to say that knowing he did love me has allowed me to let go of the past. I have been forgiven, and that’s a sweeter thing.

We are almost to Route 84 on our way to Brooklyn, where Anthony, Mary, and Tony are waiting for us with a Marcone’s Grill dinner and a place to sleep. After that, I may say good-bye to Mitch, or I may not. We haven’t talked about next steps. My duffel is in his trunk. My dog is in my arms, and wherever I end my voyage, with Mitch or not, my Mack, my dancing dog, will be always be with me.

*   *   *

Ed spots the dog first. It’s a little forlorn, its shaggy coat a little unkempt. This one has eyes that match, a deep brown, and he’s black, with rusty brown on his muzzle and a full white ruff. Sitting alone in the chain-link run, he greets them with a soft whine and a full body shake. He pokes one paw at the wire and then sits quietly.

It feels like the dog’s eyes are on him, waiting for him.

“Go ahead.” Alice is beside him, encouraging him.

“You’re sure?” Ed doesn’t mean about this particular shelter dog, but about doing this at all, taking him on.

“Never more so.” Alice takes Ed’s hand. “Let’s take him home.”

Ed nods; he cannot speak for the feeling that he has been graced by an angel, blessing him with a second chance.