Page 98 of Pretend You're Mine


Font Size:

Charlie clapped his hand on Mrs. Moretta’s shoulder. “He’s a good boy. He’ll be home safe and sound before you know it.”

“Thanks, Charlie. Harper, maybe you want to let Gloria know?” Mrs. Moretta suggested with a pronounced wink.

“I’ll tell her tomorrow after we know more about how the surgery went,” Harper promised.

That night Harper crawled into bed with both dogs and one of Luke’s sweatshirts. She buried her face in it and let all the pent up tears come.

***

The next morning, a slightly hung-over Harper woke to news from Luke.

––––––––

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Re: Alive!

Harp, Just got word on Aldo. He came through surgery. They had to take his leg below the knee. He’s still unconscious and doctors are worried about infection, but think he’ll pull through. He just needs to wake up. The medical team was in contact with Mrs. Moretta so she’s up to speed. Are you okay?

L

––––––––

Harper breathed a quick sigh of relief. Aldo was alive. And he would wake the fuck up. She couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he didn’t.

––––––––

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Re: Alive!

There’s no way he’s not going to wake up. So don’t even think about that as a possibility. Aldo’s going to wake up, wink at the nurse, and demand a cold beer.

Mrs. Moretta is a rock. A rock with an incredible tolerance for alcohol. She and your mother drank me under the table reminiscing about the good old days until your dad had to come pick us up.

When — and I do mean when — Aldo comes home, the Guard is going to take Mrs. Moretta to meet him in Dover and then on to Walter Reed.

Was anyone else hurt? Are you okay? I’m freaking out a little bit, but hearing your voice helped and so did your email. I’m worried about you. So you’d better be taking care of yourself or else I’ll do something drastic. Like paint all of the original wood trim in the house black. Seriously though, I need to see your face.

I don’t suppose you could come home on leave just to wear some clothes so I have something to sleep in that smells like you? No? I’ll settle for a video chat. I love you so much it hurts.

H

P.S. Here’s a picture of Max and Lola enjoying the doggy pool in the yard, and one of the garden. Those green things are PLANTS not WEEDS. Success!

––––––––

Harper clicked send and took a breath. She needed to tell Gloria about Aldo. And, after yesterday, the dogs needed a good long walk. Plus, she wanted to pick up her car and check on Mrs. Moretta.

She whistled for the dogs. Ears perked, Lola barreled down the hallway into the kitchen with Max hot on her heels.

They danced around Harper’s barstool, anticipating a bacon snack, attention, or — dare to dream — the “w” word.

Harper slid off the stool and patted their heads. “Okay, guys, let’s go for a w-a-l-k.” She had learned to spell the word after realizing that Max had the tendency to get so excited he peed when he heard “walk.”