Meghan hears Carol come into the room. “Out here.” She’s sitting on the patio outside of their hotel room. The view of Good Harbor beach is stretched out in front of her, down the hill from their delightfully old-fashioned and dog-friendly hotel. Not that she has to worry about dog-friendly, not with a legitimate service dog by her side, albeit a snoring one right now.
Carol drops into the plastic chair beside Meghan. Hands her a glass of wine.
“So? How was it?”
“It sure doesn’t look like Gramma’s house anymore.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I like her. I like her dog. He reminds me of the dog Gramma had, the one she had after Grampa died. Boy.”
For a brief moment, Meghan is hopeful that Carol is not going to bring up the subject, but then she says, “Meghan, I’d really like to drive you over there.”
Meghan sets her glass down on the little plastic table between them, zips up her jacket. The setting sun has left them in the shadow of the building. In the distance, the water has turned dark, and lights are coming on in the homes at the foot of the hill. In another half hour, the sea and the shore will blend into a blank space, punctuated only by the occasional bright spot of some vessel’s running lights. “Did you tell her?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
“But I did invite her to dinner tomorrow night. She suggested a place called the Azorean.”
Meghan faces Carol. “Well, have a good time.”
“Don’t be a child, Meghan. This has gone on long enough. She has another battle to fight. She should have all the information she needs, even if that means your having to give up this false modesty of yours.”
“False modesty? You think that’s what this is? Humblebrag?”
“Maybe. Self-indulgent anyway. She helped you gain your independence; you’ve helped her gain hers. Let her know. What’s the worst that can happen? She feels grateful? It’s not like that Chinese proverb that if you save a man’s life, he owns you.”
“I think it’s that you own him.”
“Whatever. The point is, isn’t it time you let Rosie decide for herself whether or not being done a kindness is a relationship killer? If feeling gratitude is a bad thing.”
Meghan is silent for a time, long enough that Shark gets to his feet and shoves his nose under her hand.
Meghan had arrived on that last training day with Rosie, the sense of hope and joy so enormous that she could barely speak; her gratitude over what Rosie had done for her had effectively rendered Meghan speechless. She had applied herself to the work so hard, as she had always undertaken training. Meghan had never entered into anything without applying her entire being into accomplishing the task, whether it was on the obstacle course or the rifle range. And so it was with learning how to work with Shark. And that ethic had given their official work together a seriousness, a life-and-death aura. But at the end of their sessions, in those few minutes when the work was done, Shark was resting from his labors, and they had time to just be two young women waiting for Meghan’s escort to arrive, they’d entered into a friendship that had seemed so likely, so normal. On that last training day, even as Rosie got a little weepy, Meghan found herself too burdened by respect and an overwhelming sense of indebtedness for what Rosie had done for her to utter a word of thanks. Rosie was an inmate, and they were not allowed to hug good-bye. Sitting here on the cement patio of the hotel, looking out over a darkening sea, Meghan knew that if they had been allowed to touch, she would have wept along with Rosie, and said thank you.
“I put her name in to the Advocacy because I knew that she was deserving of a second chance. I didn’t do it to be thanked.”
“Again: Why don’t you let her decide that?”
At the Azorean, Meghan and Carol are already seated, Carol in the booth, Meghan’s chair positioned at the end, when Rosie arrives. They see her before she sees them. They watch as Rosie speaks to the hostess and then falls in behind her, being led to where they wait. Where Meghan waits, feeling as if this is a surprise party and they are the only guests. Which, looking at the expression on Rosie’s face, it is.
“Oh my God! Meghan!”
That hug that they weren’t allowed to have when Rosie was an inmate finally happens.