At first, when McKenna told Miss Gustie that she’d discovered Pup—as well as a bunch of cats and dozens of small, wild animals—inside the Pitiful Place, Miss Gustie didn’t believe her.
“Why, that’s impossible.”
Augusta had an even harder time believing that Old Ada’s sad gray house had split apart and washed out to sea.
It would not be until the next morning, when the strange occurrences of the storm-filled night were the talk of the village, that Augusta would truly believe McKenna’s story. By that time, rumors were spreading, including one started by Big Bart Cody. He swore that when he’d searched the bay with the wharf’s emergency, long-range lantern, he’d seen four, maybe five cats clinging to the roof of Old Ada’s house as the receding tide carried the roof out to sea.
The second story was one that McKenna had held inside herself for so long that her words should have spilled out rapidly, mixed with tears and emotion.
Instead, McKenna told her story in a voice as steady as a boat rowed on a windless day. And Miss Gustie listened, as much with her eyes as her ears.
“My real mother abandoned me.”
“Your birth mother, you mean.”
“No note. No nothing. Left me, in the middle of the night, cold and naked, on Pamela Skye’s front lawn.”
“I see.”
“Wrapped in a fishnet.”
Miss Gustie’s eyes registered shock, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I was only a couple of days old.”
“Oh, my.”
“After Mrs. Gaspé caught me reading the report last winter, she decided that a half-truth was worse than the whole truth, so she told me everything she knew.”
“And, you say, this was later proven? That Mr. Skye was not your father?”
“I guess that’s why he was so eager to get rid of me.”
Augusta fell silent. She rubbed her chin, momentarily deep in thought. “And where does Bart Cody fit into all of this?”
“The report said that Pamela Skye was a Cody. She had two brothers, once in the Coast Guard, who lived in Victoria-by-the-Sea.”
“You mean Big Bart and Little Art?”
McKenna nodded. She squeezed her stomach. She didn’t feel like talking about it anymore. “What difference does it make?” She glanced at the clock. “It’s late. I’d better be getting back.”
Miss Gustie’s voice was firm. “No. Go on. It’s important. You were saying that the Codys …”
McKenna sighed, allowing a deep breath of air to escape. “Big Bart and Little Art were at sea when the car accident happened. I went from one foster home to another. After Mr. Z. knocked me around, I headed in this direction. But one night, I took a wrong turn. When I saw that big blue sign for Victoria-by-the-Sea out there on the highway, it was getting late, and I was cold and really hungry. So I walked into the village. I asked this kid who was skateboarding on the wharf if he knew any Codys, and he pointed to their house.”
“So Bart Cody isn’t your real—I mean, blood—uncle.”
“No, but I guess he thinks he is.”
“It was good of him to take you in.”
“How sad,” Augusta said. “How terribly, terribly sad.”
The little dog was cradled in Miss Gustie’s arms, fast asleep.
Better to quit now, McKenna thought, before she had the chance to say anything else. She would put the silver heart on the chain and take Tango’s identity with her to Toronto. She’d leave tomorrow night; it was her last chance.
But wrapped in Miss Gustie’s robe, in the warmth of a candlelit room, McKenna’s heart was heavy, her feet felt anchored to the floor. She was so, so tired. She guessed she’d just sit there for a little while longer.
McKenna closed her eyes, but soon the picture of herself as a baby, netted like some unwanted creature pulled from the sea, returned.
McKenna opened her eyes, shaking her head to scare off the image.
Miss Gustie was watching her. “You must forgive your mother, McKenna. She was probably very young.”
“Yeah, so...”
“Very young, very afraid, and very alone—an act of desperation, I’m sure.”
McKenna rested her head on her hand. “Miss Gustie, do you think my mother’s ever been sorry?”
“I’m quite certain your birth mother has felt more sorrow than either of us could ever imagine. I’m also certain that you gave Pamela Skye more joy than you know.”
“Really?”
“Truly, that’s what I believe.”
McKenna shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Really,” Miss Gustie said. “But now, we must go to sleep. Mother always said that, no matter what happens, things will seem better in the morning. ‘Sleep on it,’ that’s what she always said.”
McKenna didn’t know whether she could sleep on Tango’s story any longer. If McKenna didn’t tell Miss Gustie now, she never would. Wasn’t everyone always telling McKenna to tell the truth? Wouldn’t Miss Gustie expect her to tell the truth?
“Well, now you know, Miss Gustie, why I have to show you what I’m going to show you.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Augusta looked tired and confused. “Show me what?”
McKenna uncurled her legs and put her bare feet on the floor. She bent down and removed the silver link chain from her ankle. The little dog opened one eye, watching her every move.
“Miss Gustie, look.” McKenna laid the silver links on the end table, right next to the enchanted candle.
Miss Gustie gave the chain a blank stare.
“Now look.” McKenna took the small, silver heart out of the bathrobe pocket and laid it next to the chain.
Augusta squinted at what McKenna was trying to show her. McKenna demonstrated how perfectly the silver heart could be connected to the silver chain, and how easily the silver heart could slip out of the ring that once held it secure.
Then McKenna handed the heart to Augusta, who brought the charm close to her face. “Tango,” Augusta read.
At the sound of his name, Tango squirmed, his eyes widening.
“Pup had this silver heart in his mouth—when I found him.”
Augusta turned the charm over. “It’s some kind of identification tag.”
“I know,” McKenna said, wondering how long it would take Miss Gustie to put two and two together.
Pup crawled over Augusta’s body. The little dog seemed intent upon sniffing the pieces of silver.
“But... but ...”
McKenna wrapped the chain around the little dog’s neck. “See, it’s a perfect fit.”
“No, I don’t see,” Miss Gustie responded.
How could she not? McKenna wondered. It was so obvious!
McKenna dangled the chain in such a way that Miss Gustie had to see the truth. “The clasp must have broken when Pup washed ashore. That day, on the beach, you know—in the lobster trap.”
Suddenly, the little dog lost interest in the silver charm and chain. He focused his eyes on the enchanted candle’s burning flame, seemingly entranced by the candle’s light.
“Don’t you understand? It’s a dog collar and tag.”
“No,” Augusta snapped, looking off to the side. “I don’t understand.”
Miss Gustie didn’t want to know the truth. McKenna sighed, shook her head, and moved to the end of Augusta’s bed.
McKenna broke the dog’s concentration. “Tango?”
The little dog cocked his head. “Tango!” McKenna called.
The dog’s ears perked. And then, without the slightest hesitation, the dog now known as Tango scrambled away from Augusta, straight to McKenna, his docked tail wagging as much as a docked tail can wag.