I clear my throat. “I should let you know that I’m going to be moving on soon.” I study my Converses. Then, when he doesn’t reply, I lift my gaze to his.
He tips his head to the side. “When?”
“Not sure yet. Probably soon. Before Christmas.” I look down at Ghost, then realize Max is listening. He doesn’t say anything though. He just looks at his dinosaur and picks at a piece of plastic on its back.
“I see,” Noah says. “We’ll be sorry to lose you, of course.”
“It’s nothing to do with you,” I add, then think, well why would he think it was? “I mean with the Ark. It’s a great place to work.”
“So… where are you moving on to?”
“I don’t know.” I sound morose and miserable, because I am. The thought of leaving the Ark depresses me. “I can’t stay,” I tell him abruptly. “I don’t deserve to stay.” The words are out before I can vet them.
His eyebrows rise. “You don’tdeserveto stay?”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant…” I can’t think what I meant.
“Rescue, recover, rehome,” Noah says. “The Ark isn’t just for animals. It’s always easier to leave. It’s hard to stay. And you have to be open to healing.”
I don’t know what he means by that. Is he saying I’m not? That I refuse to recover?
“What about Ghost?” he asks. “Does he not deserve to stay, either?”
“It wasn’t his fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault either, Cullen. It was the fault of the man who hid a detonation device in his jacket.”
“You can spin it any way you like,” I say irritably. “The fact is that if I’d done my job properly, Jack would still be here.” I click my fingers at Ghost. “I’ve got work to do.”
I walk off toward the Forever Home, Max and Ghost following, and leave Noah standing in the Quad, hands in his pockets, watching me go. I feel bad about arguing with him. He’s the nicest guy I know, and all he wants to do is help people andanimals. But he has to understand that not everybody can be helped.
I use my key card to open the door to the Fox’s Den and usher Max inside. Today, Alicia, an Early Childhood Teacher, is curled up in a chair, feeding a baby with a bottle, while two toddlers play with soft toys inside the playpen. Ruby, who teaches at the primary school in Sunrise Bay, is playing Connect 4 with a boy who’s a year or two older than Max, while a girl who’s maybe nine or ten sits beside them, coloring.
“Morning,” I say, and both women smile at us.
“Hello,” Ruby says. “Who do we have here?”
Max backs into me, so I place both hands on his shoulders. “This is Max. His mum is a vet nurse, and she’s working with Hal today.”
“Oh, yes, a couple of the nurses have gone down with a bug,” Ruby says. “Morning, Max! Ooh, a dino lover, I see. Does he have a name?”
“Terry,” Max says. “He’s a Therizinosaurus.”
“Those claws look super scary.” She smiles. “This is Rachel, and this is Ollie. Are you joining us today?”
“He’s going to help me with the dogs first,” I say, “but I might bring him through later for morning tea.”
“Sure. Bev’s making her fantastic cheese scones today. They’ll be hot with butter melting all over them.”
Max’s eyes light up. “Ooh.”
“Yeah,” she says, flaring her eyes, “they’re amazing. We’re getting the LEGO out then, too.”
“I’m going to make a T-rex,” Ollie says. “You can help if you like.”
“Out of LEGO?” Max’s eyes bulge.
Ollie nods. “We’ve got a book with some pictures. I’m going to make it this tall.” He lifts a hand above his head.
