“I suppose the world could use more of that,” Mama Jean said in a more evident Southern drawl. The woman’s posture and tense face told me she was sizing me up, and I wasn’t sure what she was going to see. I sure as hell didn’t have a good idea on how to cultivate a certain appearance for her. All I could hope was she didn’t come to the conclusion I was an immortal with no social graces and severe mental health issues.
“What’s in the box?” Jamal asked, pushing up onto his tiptoes to see inside. The flaps were mostly closed, but not all the way.
“Uh, a gift for your mom.” Again, I got that extreme discomfort of knowing I wasn’t supposed to be here. Somehow, interacting with Miranda’s family felt entirely too intimate and private, and I knew she wouldn’t like it.
“Well, come in and set it down.” Mama Jean pulled Jamal back from the door, clearing the way for me. I stepped through, breathing in the homey bouquet of sunshine, gardenias wafting off Mama Jean, and the pervasive scent of Miranda’s skin. The scent moved to my stomach and spread in a comforting warmth.
“My daughter-in-law should be back soon,” Mama Jean supplied. “Take a seat and I’ll make you something to eat.”
“Oh you don’t have to?—”
“Sit, young man.” She pointed to the worn wooden chair at their table.
She was definitely used to being obeyed, and I didn’t want to be disrespectful.
“What’s the gift?” Jamal asked again even as I followed the older woman’s orders.
Putting the medium sized box on the floor by my feet, I met Jamal’s eager look. “Well, if I stay, I better open it so he can stretch his legs.”
Jamal’s eyes turned as round as two eggs. “He?”
The box shuffled even as I fully opened the box flaps.
The squeal of delight from Jamal was ear piercing. “A dog! Oh my gosh, G-Ma, it’s a dog.”
Indeed, inside the box was a mixed mutt of every varying shade of color and breed, making for a medium small animal, who looked up at Jamal with mismatched blue and brown eyes, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. His one ear stood erect while the other flopped endearingly to the side. One look at his bright, mischievous eyes, and you knew he wasn't an ordinary dog.
The mutt didn’t appear to be a puppy, or particularly old either. Though I suppose age wouldn’t really apply to this creature anymore, considering where I stole him— err—got him from.
“You think it’s appropriate to show up at someone’s house with a pet as a present?” Mama Jean said from where she stood by the sink even as the dog leapt out of the box and earnestly licked at Jamal’s face.
“I wouldn’t know what’s appropriate,” I said honestly.
She crossed her arms and shook her head, even as her eyes softened when they landed on the dog who now had Jamal on his back to get a better angle to lick the boy’s giggling face.
“I don’t think my daughter-in-law will appreciate being given another chore.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Jamal rushed to say even as he got back to his knees to pet and hug the dog.
“I haven’t given her a chore,” I said, defensively, setting my hand on the table. “The dog is well trained." She had no idea. The supernatural pup wouldn’t cause Miranda any problems.
Mama Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Are you giving me attitude, young man?”
“Miranda needs to have more fun, and I thought a dog would... help with that.” I wasn’t about to reveal Miranda’s past pain. That was her secret. “You’re worried the dog isn’t trained? Give it a shot yourself.”
Still pinning me with that wary expression a moment longer, Mama Jean shot a command at the dog. “Come.”
Immediately, the dog disengaged from Jamal and trotted over to the older woman.
“Sit,” she said next. The dog complied instantly, a serene yet intent expression on his face as if recognizing it was auditioning for his role.
Mama Jean rattled off as many commands as she could think of, including play dead and jump, and the dog followed every instruction.
Jamal’s eyes settled on me after a while with a knowing look. The kid knew too much, and I could tell he was picking up that the dog might be extra special compared to the canines on the street around here. I ignored his intent gaze.
“Satisfied?” I asked when Mama Jean ran out of things to try with the dog.
“What’s his name?” Jamal asked.
