Part 2
“For good?” Gail asked. Jonah nodded. He told her he had made Ruth a list of the words Patch knew and explained which cupboard held his winter coat, as though she were a stranger taking delivery of him.
“She said we’d talk about it,” he added.
“Of course she did. She knows he’s your dog.”
“He can be hers.”
Patch put his nose into a drainage channel and sneezed. Jonah smiled at him, a small involuntary movement, then pressed his lips together. Gail wanted to point at that smile and use it to end the conversation.
“You’re upset because he was nervous,” she said. “We’ve only just got here.”
“I asked her before today.”
“Then why?”
He rubbed his palm slowly over his thigh. Gail waited, but not quietly enough; she kept drawing breath to help him answer. At last he looked toward the gate.
“He keeps waiting for stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“The woods. The ball. Going up to my room. Everything.”
They used to take the path behind the house after supper. Jonah carried a stick until Patch wanted it, then accused him of having no original ideas. Gail had sometimes hurried them along because she had a fitting at seven. She could remember standing at the back door with pins between her lips, waving them in.
“Ruth can do the walks for now. I can do them. You don’t have to do everything.”
“You don’t have time.”
“I’ll make time.”
He turned away from her, and she heard the promise as he must have heard it: another thing she would be exhausted doing, another thing for him to watch her do. She was angry with him for noticing. For weeks she had taken such care to put the bills and the customer messages out of sight.
Beth came closer and asked Jonah whether he wanted to return inside. He said yes. Gail almost asked for another few minutes, although the dog had settled and the visit could reasonably end on that.
“Say goodbye, then,” she told him.
Jonah lowered his hand. Patch came over, accepted a last scratch, and moved aside when Beth prepared the chair. He followed Gail readily toward the gate, which somehow made her want to apologize to her son.
She retrieved her phone from the flowerpot. On the screen the recording was still running, full of leaves and the side of the bench. When she looked up, Jonah was watching her put it away.
At Ruth’s house, Patch went straight to the kitchen and stood beside the water bowl. Ruth had put it on a folded towel because he dripped across the floor. Her work shoes were lined up by the door, toes filled with newspaper to dry them.
“You might have mentioned he wanted you to keep him,” Gail said.
Ruth rinsed her hands before answering. She had come off her shift in a school kitchen and still had flour on one cuff. Gail knew the look on her face; they had shared a bedroom for fourteen years.
“I told him he had to talk to you.”
“He thinks he’s giving me less work.”
“Probably.”
“You could tell him that’s ridiculous.”
Ruth pulled out a chair. “Sit down a minute. You’re still wearing your purse.”
Gail sat but kept the purse across her lap. Her sister set a sandwich in front of her, cut diagonally because that was how Ruth cut every sandwich, even when she was angry. Patch lowered himself beneath Ruth’s chair and stretched out on the cool tile.
“I’m not keeping him forever because a boy had a bad month,” Ruth said. “I can keep him another week while you get the house sorted. After that we’ll work something out. But don’t tell Jonah I’ve settled it for him.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
Ruth looked at her. Gail picked a piece of crust off the sandwich and set it beside the plate.
“And I can’t come over every evening,” Ruth added. “I can do Friday. Saturday I’ve got work at the church supper.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I’m telling you so you can plan.”
Gail took out her notebook and added Ruth’s Saturday shift beside the home-leave arrangements. She had counted on her sister being available without checking. She finished the sandwich while Ruth found Patch’s brush, keeping one foot still so she wouldn’t disturb him.
Back at Briar Ridge that afternoon, Gail found Jonah bent over the tray on his bed, trying to open a packet of crackers. She held out her hand. He moved the packet away and worked a thumbnail beneath the seal until it split, spilling three crackers onto the blanket.
“Nice,” he said to himself.
Gail picked up the fallen crackers and put them on a napkin. She didn’t touch the packet again. On the tray lay the list of things he would need for the overnight leave, with phone charger underlined twice.
“Ruth says Friday’s fine,” Gail told him. “She can bring Patch over after we get home. We’ll see how it goes.”
He looked at her for the qualification he had learned to expect. When she didn’t add anything, he drew the napkin closer and ate a cracker. Gail took that small permission and began folding the clothes in his drawer.
“Did you send today’s video?” he asked.
“No. I haven’t even watched it.”
“Don’t.”
She put a shirt down. “Okay.”
“I mean don’t send it.”
“I won’t.”
His eyes stayed on the crackers. The room was warm, but he had pulled the blanket over his knees again; he did that when visitors stayed too long. Gail reached for her purse, thinking she could leave him alone for a while.
“Did you send the other one?” he said. “The one where I asked you to turn it off?”
To read the rest of the story – CLICK the NEXT button 👇👇👇