He closes his eyes. He’s swaying a little, and for a second, I wonder if he’s feeling faint, like I am. “I’m truly sorry todisappoint you, but I’m out of steam and almost positive that Lakeside will close this year. I don’t want that to negatively impact you more than it has to.”
Riley’s always been as ferocious as a golden retriever. But now—well, if I were Miguel, I’d be a bit worried, because her glare says she might just bite. “Then stop and let someone else try,” she says sharply. “Respectfully, this isn’t just about you, or even your and Amelia’s dream. You have four employees, and I speak for all of us when I say we don’t want to work somewhere else. Plus, this place means something to our town—to our community. How many groups meet here? How many kids learn to read right on our rug, beneath our rainbow? Remember what Amelia always said? Stories save lives. How many lives have been saved because someone bought a book from this bookstore? So yeah, Miguel. I’ve been holding back because you’re hurting, and I don’t want to add to that. But you’re going to have to stop acting like a lone wolf and let other people in.”
Miguel takes an unsteady breath. “I tried that, Riley. And all I got was false hope and the discovery that there’s no limit on the number of times a heart can be broken.”
Thirty-Four
My Amelia always got blue after she finished writing a novel. She hid it well, so most times I was the only one who could tell. She still saw her friends and went to Lakeside and helped Miguel cook for whomever she’d invited over to brunch or dinner. Yet between one story and the next, she smelled less like ink and more like rain. She didn’t talk as much, either, even to me. Instead, we’d go on long, quiet walks. We’d plop down in the sand at the lakeshore and watch the sailboats glide by in the distance. Sometimes she’d hold me close and take these deep, shuddering breaths. “I’m okay, Harold,” she’d assure me because—well, because she was Amelia, and she felt my worry in her own heart. “I gave it everything I had, and now the world looks a little different.”
But her stories lived on—and in those days, she still had new beginnings up ahead. So, her sadness never lasted too long.
I hover near Miguel when we get home, but I do not try to comfort him. Nor do I devise some harebrained strategy that may appear to work at first, only to backfire spectacularly. I,too, have given it everything I have—and Miguel has rejected love anyway. My beloved bookstore is still going to close, and I will probably never see Amelia Mae again.
The world looks a lot different now.
I sleep at the foot of Amelia and Miguel’s bed that night, rather than in my own. The ground is cold and hard, and somehow that feels right, too—or at least it does until I awake in the middle of the night in pain.
In spite of the little lightning bolts coursing through me, I need to move my legs, or I fear they won’t work come morning. The sliver of moon is behind a cloud, so the second floor is enveloped in darkness. But I know every inch of this house, and surely, I don’t need light to make it into the hallway and down the stairs.
Wait, is that my Amelia?
It couldn’tbe.
But I swear I hear her voice in the kitchen, or maybe it’s the attic, calling me. Where is she, though? It’s so dark, and everywhere I turn there’s more nothingness. And pain—so much pain.
“Harold!”
It’s not Amelia this time; it’s Miguel, and I must have done something wrong. Is he shaking me? That’s not like him. Or are we bouncing? I’m all turned around.
“Oh no,” I hear him say. Who is he talking to? It smells like we’re in the car, but I can’t get my eyes to open. “Harold, buddy, come on. You’re all I have, Harold. We’re almost at the hospital. Stay with me.”
What? No. The animal hospital is expensive and scary. I just took a tiny tumble—can’t he see that?
Miguel’s hand is on me, so I must be in the passenger seat.He’s touching my head, and my belly, and—ow.Ow.“Tell me you’ll be okay, dog.Please.”
I can’t tell him anything, obviously. But he’s just stopped the car, and he’s getting out, and now he’s lifting me out of the seat.
“You took a bad fall,” he says to me. It’s not comfortable, having his thick forearms around my tender torso. I imagine it’s uncomfortable for him, too, and I feel bad about that. “Oh, Harold. I’m sorry. I’ve been pushing you past your limits. I should have known you needed to rest, not be in the middle of all this excitement. And then letting that puppy stay with us—it was too much.”
He hasn’t pushed me at all. I’ve wanted this excitement, with new and old people to love. Even Walter wasn’t as bothersome as I thought he’d be. Up until Fiona walked off and took Amelia Mae with her, I have been…happy.
But of course, that’s exactly the problem. I’ve been so busy thinking about myself that I have forgotten all about what’s truly important.
Don’t worry, Miguel,I think, gazing up at him as he rushes me into the animal hospital.It won’t happen again.
Thirty-Five
“There you are. Oh, thank goodness, Harold. Is he okay?” Miguel asks, talking to someone else now.
“He’s stable. It’s a start.”
Who is that? With much effort, I manage to pry my lids open. The buzzing fluorescent lights overhead make it blindingly bright, and the room reeks of bleach and fear. After a moment, I make out a man in pale blue pajamas standing beside me. I’ve never seen him before. Oh, wait—we’re at the hospital, and they gave me some sort of shot, and…that’s all I remember about that.
“But he’s all right now?” Miguel sounds frantic.
“I’d like to get his blood panel back, but based on the ultrasound, it appears that Harold’s heart is failing. I’m very sorry that I don’t have better news.”
I’m still woozy, but I can see that Miguel’s on the verge of either cursing or crying. Maybe both.
