When we get inside, Fiona surprises me and squats down beside me. “Harry, I think you’ve helped me see the light about dogs,” she says, looking at the space just over my head. “Thanks for being so sweet to Amelia Mae.”
No, thankyou,Fiona Foster,I think, as I lean against her legs.Thank you and your daughter for reminding me and my Miguel of what regular happiness feels like.
Thirty
Miguel and Miriam head over to Lakeside after brunch. They leave me behind, but that’s okay; I have a feeling Amelia Mae won’t be at the store, and since I’m still worn out from the pup, I’d rather save my energy for when she’s around.
Miguel returns alone a few hours later. He doesn’t say where Miriam is, but he’s distracted—so much so that he trips on the runner rug in the hall. Then he serves kibble in my water bowl and doesn’t even realize it until I repeatedly clang it against the wall to let him know I’m not interested in having soup for supper. At least he isn’t grumbling at his computer, though. He even picks up the paperback Fiona gave him and flips through it. It’s not real reading—he does that with his glasses on, prostrate on the sofa—but it’s a welcome sign of life all the same.
It’s cooler out than it’s been in weeks, so after he puts Walter on a pee pad and somehow convinces him to do his business, he takes me for a long post-dinner walk. We loop past the school and the park where kids play their games, beyondthe library and police station, both of which we share with the next town over, and finally to the top of the hill that looks out over Lake Michigan’s horizon.
He doesn’t speak as we walk—not to himself or to me—which makes me worry that something’s amiss. But he’s humming again, just beneath his breath, and the new if vaguely familiar tune tells me that he’s thinking about Fiona. I wonder if not thinking about Amelia being gone all the time gives him the same kind of melancholy it brings me. Hopefully his heart knows that this is exactly what our Amelia wanted for him—to have someone else occupy his mind. After all, he won’t forget Amelia or love her any less; that’s not possible. But maybe Fiona can help him go on without her once I’m not here anymore.
We sit on the bench on top of the hill for a good while, staring out at the water as he absentmindedly strokes my head. When the sun starts to collapse in on itself, he stands and nods east, and having been given the signal, I point my nose and guide us home.
Only after we let ourselves inside the house does Miguel finally break the silence. “Miriam,” he announces. “¡Llegué!”
There’s no response, but there are a couple of wineglasses and a set of keys on the coffee table in the living room. Above us, I hear something—a drumming sound, maybe, or hammering. I can’t really tell, but someone’s here and making a whole lot of noise.
“Raccoons?” Miguel wonders aloud. “That’s strange. They’ve never gotten inside before.” He looks at me with raised eyebrows. “Maybe the squirrels have come for their revenge, Harold.”
Har, har,I think, but then I realize this is the first time in ages he’s cracked a joke about my misbehavior.Okay, Miguel. You earned that one.
Except he must be half-serious, because he grabs the broom from the door leading to the basement. I’m beyond pooped already, but curiosity gets the best of me, and I follow him upstairs.
“Miriam?” he calls as he ascends with the broom in hand. “Are you here?”
Now I hear scrambling sounds that are a lot like the kind I make when I’m caught dozing on the bed. Moments later, Miriam comes flying out of the guest room into the hall. She’s smiling widely, and her curls are in every which direction. “¡Estoy aquí!” she announces. Spotting the broom, she adds, “Do we have more cleaning to do?”
“No—” Miguel begins, but before he can finish his sentence, Dane, shirtless, emerges behind Miriam and salutes him.
“Ho-la,chief!”
“What on earth?” says Miguel, glancing back and forth between them.
“Dane and I were just catching up,” says Miriam.
“You can say that again,” adds Dane, and they look at each other and giggle.
Well.Well.This is a development I did not see coming, but I can’t help but like the idea of two people I love together.
Apparently, I’m alone in that sentiment, because Miguel is glaring at Dane like he’s trying to set him ablaze. “I am going to need to speak with you privately,” he growls.
“What are you, her chaperone?” says Dane, grinning even wider.
“Did I mention that I plan to murder you while we’re speaking? Slowly? With my bare hands if need be?”
“Better your mitts than the broom. Besides, I already died the little death tonight, so I’m good.”
Miguel groans. “What about Riley? Everyone from here to Lansing knows about your crush.”
Miriam turns to Dane. “You were into Riley?”
“I used to be. Now I’ve seen the error of my ways. Big-time,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
She laughs again.
“Besides, chief, Riley needs to fix her beef with Brenna. And I’ve known for a while that she and I are better off as friends.”
