“Perry!” Olivia exclaimed.
Perry sneezed twice, then shrugged uncertainly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I think Buster missed you.” He let go of the rope and Buster trotted up to the edge of Luci’s bed, hopping up on his hind legs. Luci threw her arm around his neck and buried her face in his fur.
When she finally looked up, Luci motioned to her mother.
The room had gone quiet. Olivia hurried over. “What is it, baby?”
Luci pulled her close. “It was him,” she whispered.
Stunned, Olivia pulled back to take in Luci’s expression. Fearful of breaking the spell, she encouraged Luci to go on. “Whatwas him?” she whispered back.
Luci pressed her lips to her mother’s ear. “Buster. Buster was what I wanted Ben to draw on my cast.”
As the words flowed into her ear, Olivia’s eyes traveled to the doorway. Perry hadn’t moved an inch. His nice navy trousers were coated in dog hair. He dabbed his runny nose absently with a balled-up tissue. He looked more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen a person look. And yet there he was.
Yes, she thought.It was him.
Perry
Perry had not planned on the dog. That would have been a terrible plan. Getting the dog meant finding out where Olivia lived and driving all the way over there. It meant locating the dog, once he arrived. Worst of all, it meant securing the beast, without getting a limb torn off, and somehow convincing it to get into his car. His car. With the buttery leather interior and pristine surfaces. Free of food, beverage, and most certainly pet hair. Getting that dog was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do.
He could not say for sure how it happened. First, Emma had been discharged. She was home, tucked safely in her bed. Not that Emma showed any sign of being happy about it. Beyond the obvious trauma of the accident, and the painful bruises and scratches his daughter had suffered, there was a deeper sadness Perry saw and felt, but could not reach. Nor could Amelia. To their combined consternation, Emma had swiftly closed her door and climbed into her bed. Refusing tea or lunch. Declining Perry’s offer to make her a bed on the living room couch where she could watch a movie, something that had always worked when she wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t good that she’d shut herself away like that. Emma needed to get up and move about a little bit, as the doctor had suggested. Moreover, they needed to talk, all three of them, about the accident.
With all of that going on, Perry’s head and heart were still floating somewhere outside his body, a sense that so unnerved him he felt compelled to get up anddosomething, as if that might somehow spark the three to reconnect.
What he couldn’t stop thinking about was the toxicology report. Emma had been drunk. To his knowledge, their child had never touched alcohol. And even if she’d tried it, there was no way he could imagine she would drink in front of her family or while out on the boat in the middle of a summer day. She was too smart for that.
Her uncle was another story. It was well known that Jake liked his beer, and any social occasion was an excuse to crack a few open. It was true, he had seemed to slow down now that he was with Olivia. But Perry had seen him with a beer in hand at the party, and come to think of it he could not recall a time he’d seen Jake without one. But was it the same one—or two? Or had there been more?
Then there was his relationship with Emma. Emma had adored her uncle ever since she was a little girl. The two had a bond that, if he were being honest, Perry would admit he envied. Deeply. And Perry was sure Emma would protect her uncle, if she had to. That he could forgive. She was a teenager, and she was loyal. What he couldn’t forgive was Jake putting his daughter in that position.
He found his wife in the kitchen. “Amelia, we have to ask her about the alcohol. And what happened out there with Jake.”
Amelia looked exhausted. “I know. But we have to tread gently.”
“I don’t disagree, but the longer we wait the harder it will be. Can we please ask her together?”
“Let me make her lunch first. She’s barely eaten a thing.”
When Perry knocked on Emma’s door and opened it, to his dismay, she was staring at her phone. Something else she wasn’tsupposed to be doing. “Would you like to come sit outside on the patio with me?” he asked. “The doctor said it would be good for you to get up and get some fresh air. Maybe do some of those stretching exercises to loosen things up?”
Emma kept her eyes trained on her phone. “No, thanks.”
He paused. “Want anything special for lunch?”
“Mom’s taking care of it. She’s making a kale smoothie.”
Perry did not like kale, and he did not understand the affinity his wife and daughter held for the viscous green smoothies they sometimes whipped up together. Usually for breakfast, of all things. But at least Emma was eating, if a kale shake constituted such a thing. “Well, that’s wonderful.”
She looked up from her phone, frowning.
“That you’re eating something,” he added quickly. Could he say nothing right? “Emma, I was hoping we could talk a little. If you’re up for it.”
At that moment, Amelia joined them, with the questionable concoction in hand. “Here you go, love.” She set the glass down on Emma’s bedside table.
Emma glanced at it, then at her father. “Thanks, but I’ve lost my appetite.”
Perry saw the restraint his wife exercised. Her lips parted, then closed. “Well, maybe later,” she said, finally. He rested a reassuring hand on her lower back.
