A smile struggled to appear on her face as she read my reply.
Sybil:Don’t mention coffee right now, I’m dying for one ??????
Me:Why didn’t you say so?
“Frederick, can we make a stop at Starbucks?” I leaned forward, speaking to my driver.
Frederick gave me a nod and a wink in the rear-view mirror to confirm.
Looking back at Sybil, there was now a genuine smile on her lips, her gaze cast down into her lap with her hands and arms burrowed between her knees. A glow reached her cheeks.
A few blocks further, Frederick stopped at the curb and I got out. I let Sybil know I’d be right back, gesturing with a pointer finger that it’d only be a minute.
I placed my order, waited, collected it, and then returned to the car. Tucking back inside, I passed Sybil the vanilla latte over Bill’s back before presenting Bill with a Pup Cup.
Sybil stifled a laugh when he dove into it, whipped cream covering his nose and face. Her hand covered the curve of her shy smile. And there it was—I’d already achieved an impossible giggle.
“What is that?”Her voice was rough and quiet, but cheerful; I almost didn’t hear it.
“It’s a Pup Cup. You’ve never heard of it?” I was holding up the demolished cup. I placed it in the trash bag in the back seat before wiping my hands with some napkins, and wiping Bill’s face, too. He needed a bath anyway.
She shook her head, sipping her latte. I heard a small, satisfiedmoan escape her mouth. I couldn’t help but squirm a little at the sound, memorizing it. Her actions amplified everything, and every new sound rippled with pleasure down my spine.
The rest of the ride was quiet after that.
Pulling onto our street, I saw her eyes wander out my side of the car to her house. While still mostly there, it also wasn’t. The gaping void of the upper floors offered a silent testament to the fire’s fury.
Desolation and loss struck me, a palpable weight of destruction. My heart hurt on Sybil’s behalf. Yellow tape closed off the sidewalk, crews already working to free the rest of the debris.
She said nothing, her eyes taking it in. The driver did a U-turn at the end of our block, pulling onto my side of the street. Sybil’s stare was now focused out her window, still on her house.
“I’m sure you’ll be able to recover anything that wasn’t broken at some point,” I offered.
She sighed but didn’t respond.
I took up Bill’s leash and led him out my side of the town car, wrapping the hoop around my wrist to free my hands. Turning back, Sybil was already there, climbing out herself with a death grip on her latte.
She rose to her full height, barely halfway up my chest. I offered her a hand. For a long moment she scrutinized it before conceding and placing her latte-free hand in mine. She wobbled. My other hand grasped her hip.
Her body tensed, and I let go of her waist, but held tight to her hand. I wanted to show her I wouldn’t giveup so easily. Leading her to the front door with Bill in tow, we walked up the stoop, taking slow steps.
The door swung open, and Bee was there, beaming like a dog welcoming us home. I’d warned her of our arrival, hoping she’d dial it back. She didn’t. Bill quickly matched her energy.
Bee welcomed us with her hands, taking Bill’s leash as he jumped at her, trying to kiss her face. “Yay! You’rehere!”she sang. “I set up the room on this floor, Nash. I didn’t figure she’d be too excited about any upper floors just yet. Plus the shower in there is the best.”
“Thanks, Bee.” I gave her a grateful smile.
Leading Sybil down the hall, I didn’t give her the option of letting go of my hand. I could tell she was unsure of that, but my firm grasp conveyed my fortitude and support.
Entering the room, I analyzed her perusal of it, hoping she’d approve. I was eager for her to like it.
It was a large room, designed as a main floor master with its own private bathroom and walk-in closet. There was a large window facing the back, looking out onto our deck and garden below. Just outside her bedroom was access to this space—perfect for Bill.
She’d have plenty of room here to hide, but not so much room she’d never surface.
Bee walked in behind us and toward the bathroom with Bill. “I’m going to see if I can get Bill cleaned up.”
A long, tortuous yowl snaked out from under the bed. I looked at Sybil, seeing her eyes light with the familiarity of it. This time, when she pulled on my hand, I let it slide from mine. She knelt on the floor. Murmuring quietly, the catunder the bed seemed to respond with a series of chatters and softer mews.
