“No, not in so many words, butI’msaying it.” I press my fist to my heart. “And this isn’t the first time. Don’t I deserve the same level of caring as they do?”
He rises from the stool and circles around the island toward me. “Of course you do, honey ...” He takes me into his arms. “You know I love you. And you’re right—I’ve been working too hard.” He steps back and lays his hand on my cheek. “But please believe that I don’t take youfor granted, not ever. I know how much you do for this family. You take care of everything, and I could never have made it this far without you. You’re my rock.”
As I stare at the man who, years ago, pulled me out of my shell when no one else could, I believe him. Truly, I do. But I’ve also heard these words before, and nothing ever changes. He can’t seem to leave the restaurant to anyone else to manage, not even for one night, and on the rare occasion when he’s at home spending time with us, he can’t purge the menu from his mind. He’s on his phone, texting Graham about plate ideas or creeping the social media pages of his competitors.
If I were to tell Becky about this conversation, I know what she’d say. She’d tell me to give him an ultimatum:Spend more time at home, or you’ll lose me.
But I don’t want to say that because I still love my husband, and I don’t want to leave him. I wouldn’t have walked down the aisle and spoken vows before God if I’d considered this commitment to be optional.
“You’re tired,” he says, taking hold of my hand and kissing it. “Let’s go to bed. We can talk more about the bully situation, and I swear, I’ll do better and listen to your voicemails from now on. But if it’s something really urgent, call the restaurant and tell Martina to deliver a message to me.”
“Sure,” I reply cynically. “Because Martina always has direct access to you. I wish I could say the same for me and the kids.”
It’s the first time I’ve ever expressed contention about Martina, and I don’t regret it.
Nate absorbs my anger, but he brushes off my comment about Martina. “I promise I’ll do better.”
It amazes me that he can be so totally oblivious to the fact that Martina is beautiful and that his wife might find that threatening. But I’m tired of arguing, so I let it go. For now.
Later, after he showers and gets into bed and we switch off the lights, he faces me. “I’ll get up early tomorrow and give Amanda a hug before she leaves for school. I want her to know that I’m here for her.”
“That would mean a lot.”
He holds me close, and though I’m not entirely confident anything will change, I forgive him. Because I love him, still.
Strangely, that night, I dream of Scooter again. While I’m sleeping, he pushes the bedroom door open, walks to my side of the bed, rises up on his hind legs, and rests his forelimbs on the edge of the mattress. I wake and blink a few times because I can barely comprehend that he’s here.My darling Scooter.We stare at each other intensely, but then he begins to bark. It’s a distress bark, a yelp that hurls me back to that moment on the cliff, when he was scrambling to save himself, just before the ground collapsed under my feet. My belly burns with terror, and I sit up in a panic—not because I’m afraid of falling down the mountainside. I know where I am. I’m in my bedroom with Nate.
But I’m also in a lucid dream. I’m somewhere between nightmare and reality. I don’t want Scooter to wake Nate. Something is terribly wrong. It’s those demons again. Scooter leaps onto the bed and lies down beside me. I hug him close, and he licks my face. I feel a tremendous sense of relief that we’re both okay. The fear passes, and I fall back to sleep.
The next morning, I wake to a ray of sunshine piercing the crack between the drapes. It’s blinding, so I squint and raise my hand to shade my eyes. When I roll to my side, away from it, Nate is gone. The bed is empty, and I wish my dream had been real, that Scooter was still lying here beside me. He was such a big part of my life, a lightness during my darkest days. Dolly was a great comfort after the loss of him, but sadly she passed away a year after Scooter. Both of them peacefully, at least.
All at once, I know what I need to do. Why didn’t I think of it before?
I toss the covers aside and leap out of bed.
Thank you, Scooter, for the visit.
Chapter Twelve
Somewhere Between Dreams and Reality
“Are you sure Dad’s going to be okay with this?” Amanda asks after school when she pulls out a kitchen stool to sit beside me. “Remember when I begged for a puppy and he said no?”
“You were seven years old,” I remind her as I open my laptop, “and Connor was a tyrant, in the throes of the terrible fours. It just wasn’t the right time, but believe me, your father’s a dog person. That’s what we did on our first date. We took our dogs for a walk. I’ve told you that story.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, but I try not to think about you guys being romantic. That’s just gross.”
I laugh and call up the SPCA website, which I’ve been staring at since breakfast. “Either way, he thinks it’s a good idea, as long as you do your fair share and take him for walks.”
“Dad or the dog?” she asks, and I laugh again.
“The dog, of course.” I direct the mouse pointer to the adoptions page and bring up all dogs in the province.
“And how do you know it’ll be ahim?” Amanda asks. “Maybe we’ll find a girl dog.”
“I’m open to whatever you want,” I reply. “We’ll look at every dog that needs a home, regardless of gender. I was creeping the site earlier,and there’s one in particular that spoke to me, but I don’t want to influence you too much. This is supposed to be your dog, not mine, so it’s your choice.”
“Okay,” she replies. “Let’s have a look, and don’t tell me which one you like. Let’s see if we gravitate toward the same one.”
